#unless they fly to mars or some shit

[sweetwolfcupcake]

The Taste of Deceit(Hyungline Part Two-Finale)

Masterlist

The Taste of Deceit Masterlist

Hyungline- Part 1, Part 2: Hoseok, Namjoon

Warnings: Violence, Dark Characters with Darker Intentions. Disturbing imagery, allusions, blood, and slight gore. And the most important- DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT(Dub-con, Non-con).

This took me so long...It has been a long year.

Word Count: 13k-ish

Happy New Year Everyone.

Kindly excuse typos and errors. No advanced editing done.

(GIF credits to the owner)

"Where are the rest of them?"

The man leading the team asked as he inspected the bloodied bodies of his colleagues, keeping an eye on the cold corpses, while the rest of the team spread out in the house, in search of Officer (L/N)(Y/N).

They were not very hopeful regarding her survival.

The backup force in the adjacent house, who were allotted to keep a watchful eye, were all found on the floor--cold and mangled. It was a direct dent in the department. A declaration of war.

His eyes scanned through the bed, trying to figure out any oddity in the darkness. Switching on the lights would alert the lurking enemies. And he could not afford to lose more of his team members. Tentatively, his gloved hands ran through the bloodied sheet, the room stunk of it.

Finally!

He found something, a square–no, rectangular device. Fishing it out from below the covers, he inspected the device. It seemed akin to a voice recorder. Marred with blood, the man had every reason to consider if (Y/N) deliberately left it there for them to find her, or maybe a clue...they were too late.

Wiping away the blood, he switched it on.

There were a few muffled sounds and some glitches initially before he could clearly hear–

There was a continuous huffing before he heard a gasp and a moan.

"Who do you belong to? Huh–?"

"You-Oh my–ah!"

"Why–I thought y-you fucking worked for the authorities."

"I—Jin-hah! That's notyou, Please!"

It was somewhere between a beg, a cry and a moan. The captain stood still, blood beginning to boil. But he continued to listen.

Officer (L/N)'s gasps and the sound of skin slapping were clear to him as much as what was transpiring in the recording.

"Please Jin—just surr–surrender, this was—"

Smack!

"Tch! Shut it already—You– and I both know that they are never seeing us again!"

"Oh–my—"

"Right Baby, just let g–go–shit! Too much of this fuc-fuking game–yeah? It'sokay..."

The sounds that followed felt like a slap on his face. No, it was a slap on the whole fucking department's face.

"I forgive you, love."

That was the final straw, the officer rose his hands to smash the bloody thing on the ground. Kim Seokjin messed with the wrong person, he fucking spit on the Department. He was going to hunt—

He paused midway.

Kim Seokjin left the tape deliberately. It was an open challenge to the department, he even did not bother to clean up after the murdering two of the officers himself, not the rest too. The recording, the murder scene, the whole house— all these were powerful pieces of evidence.

So why would he just...Leave them behind?

That sly rat obviously did not want to get caught.

But the evidence...

Unless...

"Officers! Officers wherever you are get out of the building I said evacuate the buildings. Over."

He held the tape close as he rushed out of the room and into the hallway."

"Sir, what is wrong?" One of the officers asked through the device.

"It's a trap! I REPEAT IT'S A TRAP! EVACUATE THE—-"

BOOM!

The deafening boom was swift, followed by another within a millisecond, but the amber and the sparks were quicker.

And within a moment, the two buildings burst into flames. Fire and fireproof helmets flying out, some parts of burning cloths, burnt uniforms and perhaps some skin attached to them.

—---

Jin smiled at her sleeping form through the mirror before he felt his burner phone vibrating.

"Sir, it's done." A voice from the other side spoke as soon as he picked up the call.

"Good, now get out of there." Jin instructed before hanging up the call.

He could finally lean back. His eyes remained on the road ahead, along with a smile that he did not wish to wipe anytime soon.

—--------

Waking up was a slow process. But (Y/N) had not felt more blissful before. She felt like she was surrounded by soft clouds. She felt pampered, and it was not a feeling foreign to her but she was relaxed and—-

She woke up with a start, shaking the remaining sleep off her, though her mind was still a bit muddled. Flashes of the night before occupied her mind as she blinked to clear up her vision. He...What had she done?

Did she give in?

She just...She just laid there, under him, taking whatever he gave her

She put her whole department to shame and yet—

The gentle fingers brushing through her hair, detangling the tresses were all too familiar to even guess– she knew it was Jin. Laying behind her.

"How did you sleep?" It was the morning voice that she was used to, but this time, she was alert for a whole new reason.

Did he wish to play with her a bit before slaughtering her?

There was one thing that Kim Seokjin would never forgive, she had learnt in her two years with him– betrayal.

Expecting forgiveness from him after stabbing him in the back was like trying to dig up a well in a desert.

"You need to relax, Love. As I said yesterday, I forgive you."

She frowned but did not dare to turn.

"I forgive you..."

"I forgive you..."

"I forgive you..."

Was that what she heard before she fell into a tired, hopeless, dreamless slumber?

Even if she were to die, she knew that she was no coward. And she would not die like one. So (Y/N) turned around, facing the man who shaped her nightmares and dreams.

Turning around, she realised she was naked, while he was in his usual night pyjamas. And while she had been naked with him several times before, this made her feel vulnerable, exposed even.

"You did not give away the other pen drive, Jagi. Of course, I forgive you. How can I not?"

He looked soft, hair ruffled, eyes slightly swollen, and overall deceptively harmless.

"You killed them."

As long as she could remember, there were two bodies. Two of her seniors lay bloodied and dead on the bed.

"Yes, Jagi, I killed them all." Jin's smile was sweet, the one she had grown used to.

And so was it unhinged.

"You can't hide forever, you know?"

"We, Love. It's us against them. You proved your loyalty to me last night. The remaining doubts shall be dealt with effectively." He rose slightly with the support of his elbow and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. "I will be back, yeah?"

He left after that. Left her with her thoughts as she spiralled further and further down. All the things that had gone wrong and that she had done wrong. Two of the senior-most officers were dead. The department would hunt her down, hunt them down.

She had no clue how long it had been until Jin returned with a tray that she assumed contained breakfast.

"I had the maids prepare a light breakfast, did not want you to get your stomach upset again."

She frowned. Why did she not remember any of that?

"I–I threw up last night?"

"Yes, you did, even had a fever. Perhaps things were too much for you. Had me worried there for a while. Now, rise up, you must eat something."

"Why are you doing this?" She refused to believe that she was 'forgiven', she was not even apologising in the first place. "If this is your way of prolonging—"

"I could have killed you the day I found out who you were."

She stilled at his words. They were obvious but that did not stop the chill that descended into her spine. It was a strange cocktail of sadness and affirmation.

"But I didn't..."

I couldn't

The words lingered with uncertainty in the air.

"I wanted to see how far this little game goes. And then I saw it..." He tilted his head as his lips curved into a condescending smirk "...How naïve you were. It's pathetic actually. Thinking what you do is the 'right thing'."

"You run an underworld business of drugs and weapons Jin. No matter what you do, how you are, you cannot separate that from yourself...You have blood on your hands Jin and the only way to wash it—"

He interrupted her with a loud scoff that broke into a cackle.

"Honey, you don't wash it all off, it took my blood sweat and money to build this empire. And then I watch some puppet idealists coming to topple it...It's amusing."

He gently laid the breakfast tray on the foldable table placed over her lap.

"It's a game (Y/N). A big game where people like you are only disposable pawns...Why do you think the department is bothered about me now? Why not years back? I was easier to crush then."

When she only frowned, he continued.

"Because they are not hunting for sweeping the city, or the nation clean. They are hunting for those who cannot be loyal to them. Once you are ready to spend billions on election campaigns, domestic and international deals, give money to their pretty puppets and invest in their projects– be their loyal dogs, do the dirty work for them...You are free to do whatever the fuck you want."

He gently cupped her cheeks, leaning in to level with her gaze. "One Government topples, so does their favours upon their underworld allies, the next one would only want to uproot them all. It's not about just tice, or charity, or protecting the city. It never was. It has and always been about power...Once they find out that you have not handed over the other pen drive, you are going to end up with a 'criminal' bullet lodged into your head."

"What about the bullets in those officers' bodies?"

Jin only smiled "If my soul were made of what has shaped yours, Jagi...I would not have been where I am."

He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Get something into your system. I will prepare a bath for you."

Standing up, he towered over her.

"For now, you are not allowed to step out of the room without my explicit permission. Not until my trust in you is restored completely. You still went to meet them, and I cannot risk another slip-up."

"So I am your prisoner."

"Of course not, Jagi. I have a special place for my 'prisoners'. You are the woman I love and refuse to lose. You are the one for me. But fortunately, love cannot blind me to the realities of your position. It is just a bump in the road, we will pass through this."

She could not even begin to decipher what odd amalgamation of emotions she was feeling at the moment. It was all too much. But she knew one thing...She was trapped. A trap she had willingly walked into.

"I will let you have the bath to yourself. Finish up, okay?"

With that, Jin walked into the bathroom. The little muffled sounds here and there let her know that he was doing what he said he would do. Exactly that.

—--

The water felt perfect against her skin, washing away the aches and clammy sensation. But nothing could wash away him. He was imprinted on her mind, and even if he had thoughtfully left her alone in the bathroom, (Y/N) felt him everywhere, in everything. It was like the whole place, not just the bathroom or the room, but each brick was breathing Kim Seokjin.

It was an odd situation. After everything she had seen and experienced, she knew that there was something going on in Jin's mind– he was concocting a plan and if he was not, then he had already emerged as victorious.

She would not be surprised though. He had himself revealed that he had known her true occupation for a while now. It was all a bait. Her two seniors were dead, and perhaps even her colleagues who were in the other house and—

The realisation hit her like a truck. Before she knew it, she was scrambling out of the tub, splashing water everywhere, slipping here and there. But she did make it back to the room, albeit with only a bath robe on, she rushed out of the bathroom, only to begin searching for a TV remote.

She finally found it on the nightstand.

"There are only speculations we can make as no confirmation has been provided by the Police Department or the intelligence. The intensity of the blast was moderate but enough to kill each and every officer present in the two buildings...."

The words of the reporter sank later than the pictures being displayed on the screen. There were all twenty of them.

Five of whom she had personally worked with on her previous missions. Out of the five, two were the ones she recognised as friends, close friends.

The rest of the six were acquaintances and the others, she could barely remember their names.

But all of them were her colleagues.

Her colleagues with families to look after, one of them was expecting his first child in the world, and another was the only hope for her aged and ailing parents.

And now, they all were reduced to nothing but burnt flesh and ashes.

"Jagi, I thought you were in for a nice, relaxing bath, why are you crying?"

She had not taken notice of his presence first, it was only after he gently wiped her tears did she realise her predicament.

It was like she had blood in her hands.

"Why?"

When she looked at him with the question, his unreadable eyes expressed the unexpressed. There was no other thought in her mind.

"They were innocent—"

Jin cackled– one that sounded everything that she had heard before when it concerned an expression of glee. But felt like nothing she had felt before. One that could inspire unadulterated fear. It was sinister– mockingly sinister at its best.

She had fallen in love with a cruel, cold and evil man.

"You have known me for years now, have you not...(Y/N). Have I ever been forgiving to obstacles? They were the wall between us, our love."

And yet he claimed to love her.

"It was a small warning, Jagi. You know that I could do worse."

He was right. She knew him, after all.

"Now, we would not have to worry about some petty people in uniform trying to come after us. Don't think too much about this and tire yourself out."

He took the remote from her grasp with ease and switch the television off before gently leading her back to the bathroom.

(Y/N) was in a daze, letting him take her out of the bathrobe with ease before he put her back in the bathtub after moderating the temperature again. But when he joined her, the feeling of his warm skin rubbing against hers broke her daze, but the faces of her colleagues never vanished from her mind.

She heard him sigh as he pulled her over his lap, relaxing in the perfectly warm water, basking in the soothing fragrance of lavender and pines. It felt like once she closed her eyes, she would be somewhere else, somewhere beautiful.

But she did not dare to close them.

(Y/N) knew that the moment she closed her eyes, the faces of her friends and colleagues would flash in front of her.

She felt his body against hers, roaming hands, fingers drawing circles over her shoulder to comfort her. But none of them worked.

"I know that there is a lot of questions in your mind, so may dilemmas. But you will see Jagi. You will see how much far we have come. You chose me. You made the right choice."

His voice was that of a siren– hypnotic, melodious, but one that would lead its follower to their ultimate demise.

That was Kim Seokjin.

He told her once that she was the one for him, and they would grow old together.

She knew that he would have it no other way.

He was not afraid to spark a bloody battle for that. But there was no line to it. He did not care who or what the price was-- he would have what he wanted, where he wanted.

She realised when he turned her head to land a soft but promising kiss on her lips.

He wanted a battle?

His lips were soft but firm, his hand on the side of her neck left no room for backing away.

She would give him war.

She kissed him back, cautious, but not empty of thoughts.

***

The days were humid, and the nights invited light to moderate rainfall. Life in the relatively remote town was peaceful, in a nutshell. 

To live in innocuous obscurity, to work for nothing but to run her and her family was what (Y/N) needed after everything she and her sister had been through—her sister Chae, her only surviving family. The same family she had smashed someone’s heart for and perhaps ruined his life forever.

She might as well be a monster in his eyes. But with her experience through all this, she had learned that not all monsters were evil. And that just made everything much more complicated. 

She never knew Min Yoongi. 

Of course, she had heard of him, maybe even seen his pictures a handful of times, but never paid much attention. 

Not until Chae, her sweet little sister, and her only family, was diagnosed with an illness that was slowly swallowing her up. And (Y/N)’s regular office job could not pay the bills for too long. Their savings were running out, and the treatment and medicines were weighing heavy.

She was desperate.

Truly desperate

And truly desperate people never weigh morals, risks, or possibilities.

They take any chance given to them.

So did she, when a decorated officer offered her a chance to save her sister and find a better life for both of them.

She took the chance; it only took her a day to think through everything. They were paying for her sister’s treatment and the medical bills; they were to overlook Chae and her security, and the net money to be transferred into her bank account after the work was done was good enough.

That one offer had everything she desperately needed. Not desired. Needed.

She was never worried about herself– walking under the shadow of a man like Min Yoongi, she had to have courage. And she was courageous because she was desperate. Whatever she had heard of the man was foul deeds and evil temperament; she had never let that diminish her courage.

To the officers, Min Yoongi was a monster. A clever monster who needed to be pulled out of the sea.

It was for the betterment of society– she was not doing anything morally wrong if perceived through those lenses.

But that was the catch. 

People, morality and justice were not read through a single lens, they needed prisms to look at, to analyse.

She had learned that with her time spent with Min Yoongi. Her experience defied every other fact she had learned from her temporary employers. He was no monster. But as she dug deeper into his life and his personality, she discovered that the officers were no liars either. 

Min Yoongi was a monster after all. But he was not evil. Not every monster was evil, not every evil looked like a monster.

Min Yoongi was an intimidating man. True to the officers’ words, he was a dangerous man too. Before she knew it, she was already praying that the assumptions about him would be proven false and that she would never have to hear his deeds from his lips. 

The same lips that had kissed her so softly, the eyes that looked at her with such a distinct tenderness, closed when her fingers traced his scar. Her touch was soft, but his hold on her would be delicate. It always had been.

Until the doomed night. 

She was frozen with shock when she looked into his eyes– the same eyes that once held tenderness seemed to belong to a true predator. For the first time, she truly felt the danger that she was in.

She was in a lion’s den. Unarmed. Unprepared. But desperate.

She saw the shadow fall over his face, she truly saw why even a decorated officer would not like to mess with Min Yoongi without an intricate strategy and heavy backup.

And yet, she had mouthed ‘Run’ to him.

 As if she wanted him to get away. To be saved. 

Perhaps he did need a second chance— to be saved from the chilling darkness she had seen merging with him.

But she was no saint, and definitely not his saviour.

She was his doom. 

It was an opportunity too good, too bright a chance. And she took it. 

Yes, she had grown to care for him, even sympathise with him, more than she would like to admit. But she loved her sister. And she did whatever she needed to do to save her only family.

She had religiously avoided watching the news for months. Three months since she had settled into town with her little sister. She did not want to burden herself anymore.

I did what I needed to. We needed to survive.

She told herself again as she prepared warm milk for Chae along with her medicine. It had become kind of a ritual ever since that night.

“Chae, get off the tablet now. Time for bed.” She called out from the kitchen before making her way to their room from the kitchen with the tray with her.

“Just a few more minutes!”

(Y/N) could not help but feel uplifted by the sound of her sister’s chirpy voice, it had withered so pitifully once. But now, as she was recovering, their trips to the hospital had reduced from every three days to twice a month. 

“No. Screentime’s over. Give that to me.”

Despite her sister’s whining, she took the gadget from her tiny hands and replaced it with the cup of milk.

“Say ‘Aaa’”

Chae opened her mouth wide as (Y/N) put a circular tablet into it before helping her gulp it down.

She let out a soft sigh after she finished the cup– soft pink in shade with the partially protruding face of a smiling panda.

“Let’s get you to bed. Why don’t you show me how you make your bed before going to sleep?”

“Yes!” Chase jumped up, ready to show (Y/N) her newfound field of expertise.

“Look, you first, take off the pillows, clear off your bed…” She spoke as if there were cameras around, like the lifestyle shows and YouTube videos on ‘How to Do Household Chores Right’.

She had been watching such stuff lately. And while (Y/N) felt that her Chae might be a little too young to learn how to make pancakes, if her sister enjoyed the sense of independence and thrived in it, (Y/N) did not mind.

She watched her little sister work with a fond smile until she was done and was beaming with a smile that (Y/N) held the most precious to herself.

“And look, it's all done!”

(Y/N) clapped in appreciation and played along, before tucking her into bed and switching off the lights, keeping the nightlights that made the ‘Glow-in-the-dark’ wall stickers illuminate better before placing a goodnight kiss on the top of her and leaving the room.

—---

Laying on the bed after a long day felt good. She doubted that anything could even compare to the comfort and sense of safety a familiar, comfortable bed would provide after a long day of toil and trials.

Sighing, she let herself sink into a relaxed state of mind, welcoming the sleep that was rapidly filling her eyes– rapid but soft and—

Buzz! Buzz!

The vibration from her phone jerked her out of the sweet lull with a low gasp. Her senses stood alert as she blinked away the rest of the sleep. In the dark room, her phone’s screen illuminated in a way that there was no other way but to look at it. As if, it had a sense of urgency to it. as if it demanded for her to look into the text.

She knew, of course, that it was all but her imagination– the phone would not buzz a different way for different situations, and neither would it illuminate any brighter to alert her.

With a tired sigh and heavy eyes, she unlocked her phone and opened the message from an unknown number.

Indeed, it was a very important message.

—------

It was a nice place– at least nice in the sense that it served good food and had a warm and cosy atmosphere– something one would expect from a cafe in a fairly isolated town.

 Not many people visited the town, neither tourists knew about it. A perfect hiding corner in the country indeed. They had considered sending her out of the country, and they had assured her that once things settled down, they would.

But here was the thing– she depended on one of the officers to inform her if the ‘things had settled down’. (Y/N) had consciously avoided any news or updates regarding Min Yoongi. 

She was indeed afraid of coming across something upsetting. She already was miserable with guilt.

Sure, she never loved Min Yoongi, but she had grown to care for him, to understand him and truly see him for what he was– a love-starved, broken soul.

“So…” 

She began, eyeing the door and the road outside for any sign of a vehicle with red and blue sirens.

“Is there something to be worried about?”

In her time with Min Yoongi, she had mastered the art of poise, to some extent. However, she never had the chance to master her fear– she never felt the need to. It was an odd sense of safety in his company, she knew that nothing could touch her when she was with him.

But he was an exception.

The man in front of him was an officer in disguise. She remembered him for he had been closely associated with Mission Raven.

“I have not been keeping track of any news regarding—”

“There’s nothing on the news Ms (L/N). Nothing at all. That night, the police station blew off.”

She stilled, slowly processing his words.

“There was no record of his arrest because he was to be shifted to a bigger, more secure station overnight but…”

“So…So everyone there…”

The officer sighed and nodded.

“Min Yoongi was never found. What a coincidence.” He shook his head with a bitter chuckle “When I joined the police force, I thought that I was going to be a hero– help the people in need, bring justice…That night, when my eyes met Min Yoongi’s, I felt my resolve faltering for the second time in my life.” 

He shook his head with a sardonic tilt of his lips.

“The first time was while I shot a criminal dead.” He added before taking a sip of the coffee that no longer had steam rising from its surface. “Overall, I am glad that I and two of my teammates had gone out for a cigarette break…So we survived.” 

He gulped and eyed his surroundings with a subtle nervousness that made her heart thrum with warnings.

“Though I have been transferred to some other city, I thought that I must warn you. I waited, did not want him to track you down. Miss (L/N), I suggest that you leave with your sister tonight, and leave the country as soon as you can. Min Yoongi’s men killed every person in the building. We hid, but we saw him walk out, saw them walk out…Oh–look, please don’t panic.”

It was when his flow broke did she realised that her cheeks were damp with tears.

“(Y/N), are you alright?” The young officer frowned in concern.

“I…I need to lea-ve.”She cracked up, as her voice crumbled. 

With quivering legs and hands, she rose from her chair, uncaring of the loud scraping.

“I can drop you.” He offered.

“No…No, you…you should leave. We are no longer safe. Are we?” 

The officer pursed his lips before shaking his head.

Picking up his card from the desk, along with her handbag, she rushed out of the place, gasping for breaths. She thought she might feel better with some fresh air in her lungs. But she had no time to think. She simply rushed to her car and drove away.

(Y/N) felt like she was in a daze.

It felt like a bad dream. An ominous one.

But it was no omen, it was no dream.

It was real.

During her two years with Min Yoongi, she came to understand him to some extent. Nothing slipped past his mind, ever. 

A favour or a betrayal, he paid his debts. With interest.

And she had gifted him, on that night, one of the worst betrayals a man could endure. She had seen love in his eyes before that doomed night.

But that night, he had the misfortune to witness the flicker of madness– simmering, still tame, in control. There was an odd gleam in his eyes– one that reminded her why Min Yoongi was so feared after all.

Hastily parking her car, she rushed out of the vehicle and into her house. The setting sun cast an amber glow into the sky that was gradually descending into deep blue and lavender. It might rain heavily– not ideal for travelling, but she had no other option. 

They had no other—

As soon as she entered the apartment, her thoughts turned silent.

 Everything felt tense.

For once, her heart skipped a beat. But she was reassured by reminding herself that Chae would be usually taking a nap by this time. 

For once, she thought that she finally had the peace she had always craved. But now as she moved towards Chae’s room to wake her up, she realised how wrong she had been.

With a plan still under construction in her spiralling mind, she opened the door to Chae’s room. The blinds were pulled down, plunging the room into an unusual darkness.

“Chae?” She called out tentatively before switching on the night light.

She noticed her sister’s face first, eyes closed and limbs hanging– and then the body–no, the man who had her in his arms.

Her mind, her thoughts, and her senses plunged into a heavy silence. A silence so profound that (Y/N) could hear a low but unending beep in her ears.

She could see the outline of a back, along with the hair just teasing his shoulders. She would recognise the profile anywhere, at any time. But when the man finally turned, she could not help but take a step back, gluing herself to the wall, under the shadows as her breathing hitched.

There was nothing significantly different, at least whatever view the limited light provided her with showed that. But somehow, his form seemed to swallow every corner of the room. The scar that ran through his eyes till his upper cheek was almost faded out by the shades of blue the nightlight provided.

But she could see his smirk– a crooked, twisted smirk that made her whimper. A sudden gleam had her eyes dropping to his hand that held her sister with a silver gun flat on her back, his forefinger already on the trigger.

“You never told me about your sister…(Y/N).” He drawled, and she thought his truest, rawest nature stood before her.

A predator that loved to chase but also took its time.

“No…No!” Her voice came out as strangled as her brittle knees gave out

“Shhh, you’ll wake her up. I read out a story to her before tucking her in.”

His voice was calm, hushed and steady– a sinister melody attached to it, following his movements as he looked above her. She had not even noticed the two men standing behind her. It was only after they walked past her and took her sleeping sister in their arms that the wheels began to turn in her head.

“W-where are you taking her? No!” With skidding legs and blurred vision, she rushed to them, trying to pry her sister away from them, only to be pulled back by the man whose presence overpowered everyone and everything in the house.

“Yoongi, please! She’s innocent, punish me but—”

Her words were caught in her throat when his gaze held hers. She was looking into the eyes of a creature of the night. The blue light only enhanced the sinister shade his face carried. He was perhaps paler, broader yet his face seemed sharper. No trace of softness.

“You know how many times I dreamt of that night over and over again?” He pushed her closer, so close that she could feel his quivering breath– as if he was barely restraining himself.

“My sister needed—”

“They were simply fishing for the right victim and you just took the bait. What do you think, they would come to ‘save’ you? They don’t fucking care!” He spat.

Under the nightlight, he looked rogue, savage, unfearing.

“You are a criminal Yoongi.” She had no idea where she had found the strength to speak those words, but she did.

He smiled coldly “Of course I am, Love. The one they fear and now won’t dare challenge. You see, there is nothing between us now.”

 Her wall of protection had disappeared. (Y/N) knew that she could never depend on them for long, but everything toppling overnight? She had not seen this coming.

“You betrayed me, but also saved me.” He concluded and she felt his hold tightening on her arms like a python.

“No, Yoongi…I didn’t save you. I am not your saviour Yoongi.”

“Oh, Love…I cannot be saved anyway, I don’t want to be…All that is left for you is to accept me as I am. No ifs and buts.”

But how? She never wanted this…She never loved him!

“Y-Yoongi…I don’t–I don’t love you…”, 

The silence made her stomach flip. But her proximity to him made her fear for her life. 

“They really had filled your mind with filth…” He drawled before she felt the iron grip of his fingers on her jaws. It was not instantly painful, but with each passing moment, the ache rose.

“Look at me, look into my eyes and tell me.”

 The simmering ambre flared into an all-engulfing fire in his eyes. Some strands of his hair fell forward, exposing the deranged lover that hid behind the poised man.

She peered into the rage and chaos simmering in his feline eyes- dark but raging with emotions, yet hollowed with loneliness.

“I cared Yoongi, I always did. That is why I wanted you to survive. I wanted you to run, despite knowing who you were, I wanted you to run. But I could never love you.”

It was an odd amalgamation– she feared him, yet pitied him. He, to her, resembled a lost predator. Surviving, hunting, doing what he was born to do…but lost, alone.

“Please Yoongi…Let Chae go…She’s a child. Let us go.” She begged again, her hopes flaring when his hold on her loosened, hands falling to his side as he took a step back.

He only chuckled and looked away. 

“I guess our past actions do have consequences…” 

In the silence, his lowly voice sounded ominous 

“And I must reap them…” He paused before turning back to her “But so would you.”.

She watched the simmering ambre erupting into an all-consuming volcano before he tapped on the earpiece attached to his left ear.

“Is the child with you? Okay, take out your gun and shoot her when I command.”

“NO! NO! Yoongi, please! No”

She was already on her knees, she did not care as long as her only family was safe. His cold eyes peered down at her with a chilling poise before he bent down a bit and cupped her cheek, breaking the neverending stream of tears.

“Wipe off the tears and come with me. If anyone suspects something, you sweet little sister will pay.”

(Y/N) sat frozen, not even registering the thrumming on her knees.

Maybe she was wrong–

Min Yoongi was a monster after all.

And monsters were unforgiving creatures.

—------

Min Yoongi knew that he was not a saint.

He was not a kind man.

But he was also not evil. Not to the people he loved, truly loved and cared for. And definitely not to the love of his life.

He had no shame in admitting– he was a monster- the worst of them all. A walking, talking, repulsive nightmare.

 But he loved her. He had forgiven her the very night he was ���arrested’. 

How could he not, when she looked at him with more kindness than he had ever known in this world?

But when she outrightly refused to have ever loved him, the illusion began to crack. 

“They were right about you…I never believed them until now but now I do. You truly are an evil monster.”

She had whispered those words to him as soon as they were in his estate. Even with tears in them, her eyes were cold and raging.

“I could never love a monster like you!” She finally spat out when he refused to let her see her sister.

And he snapped. Something deep, dark, territorial and unhinged gnawed its way out. 

But he only smirked. Even though he could feel the dull ache behind his eyes, a strange pit in his stomach, he smirked and let it grow into a chuckle.

He must have had his true face out as she took a step back with fear blooming in her teary eyes– he was a deranged, diabolic bastard. With each step he took to close the distance between them, she took several away, until the back of her knees bumped with the bed.

Pulling her flush against himself, he leaned near her ear.

“The officers who aided you are already six feet under the ground– half burnt, half crushed, but dead anyway. All you can do is believe in every word they told you about me…I am indeed a monster, honey. He worst one you will ever know. And you will have to live with this monster. No government, no decorated officer would dare to save you.”

He felt her stiffen and shiver like frightened prey. Indeed, she had fallen prey to his love. He made peace with their reality. She would too.

 Humans were adaptive creatures after all.

—--------

The hanging lights on the ceiling were pretty– the crystals shining under the moonlight, but they seemed to swing slightly.

It was only an illusion, of course. It was she, who moved, and the bed while the man above her remained still, revelling at the sight of her rocking hips, spread legs and parted mouth with the dazed bliss in her eyes.

She could only watch the chandelier instead of looking into his eyes with the victorious gleam in them and the sadistic twinkle on watching her fall apart.

“Look into my eyes, Jagi.” 

And she did before hot white pleasure surged through her.

“There there, aren’t you the most beautiful of all brides out there?”

“Why can’t I meet my own sister?” (Y/N) was only a thread away from screaming her lungs out all the awful things she could think of at the moment.

Yoongi simply sat, nursing his scotch on rocks, idly watching the part of the vast garden visible from his home office. The place that only a few had access to, the place she had barged in, his guards chasing after her, pleading for her to stop lest they would bear Mr Min’s wrath.

But she could not have it in herself to care. She had not seen or even heard of her Chae for two days in the gigantic estate.

When Yoongi finally looked at her, his stoic stare made something unpleasant steer within her. His eyes assessed her with a flick before it turned steely.

“Why are you in your bed clothes?” It was akin to a sneer. Or maybe it was.

The fact was, she did not give a fuck.

“What have you done to my sis–”

“Have you walked all the way here in this?”

She was wearing a thin camisole under a nightgown reaching beyond her knee. It was of satin material that was tightly knotted but had a plunging neckline she had never cared about. 

She did not understand why this bothered him so much. She knew that he was twisted but this was madness.

“I want to see Chae! I have not even heard of her since I–you brought us here.”

Only she knew the anxiety clawing her from within

“She needs to take her medicines regularly Yoongi. She’s just eight, she is a child, an innocent child who needs me.” 

Even when she would ask the guards, servants, or maids, they would not respond to her question– that was the only question they refrained from speaking about her sister, or even taking her name. 

If Yoongi had the intention to break her down in a slow, painful way, he was on the right track.

He rose from the chair and walked to her “I assure you that she is safe and sound– she will take all her medicines on time, they will take good care of her.” 

“Th-they?” 

She did not even notice his other hand reaching for her until he wiped the single tear that had slipped from her eyes.

“The school staff. I have sent Chae to Rosenberg.”

“Indeed, you are.”

She felt his fingers slipping away before hearing the embarrassing squelching. Her eyes had closed without her notice, ready to fall into a blissful slumber. It was the second time he had pushed her over the edge of white pleasure. 

But she was wrong to think that he was anywhere near done.

Feeling the tight knot snap, she withered under him, eyes still closed, mind still hazy. 

Before the swing of the pleasurable high could slow down, she vaguely felt him putting her boneless legs over his shoulder before the ticking sensation between her thighs alerted her.

(Y/N)’s eyes snapped open, just in time when she felt something wet glide over her opening. The protest bubbling up to her tongue fizzled out like a burning matchstick against a storm and the only thing left for her was to moan instead– no matter how much she wished to resist it, she could not help the signs of pleasure tearing out of her mouth.

At first, she felt the odd but pleasurable sensation, almost flinching and jumping away. But under him, with his hands tight on her thighs, almost spilling the flesh between his fingers, it was difficult to even move. All she could do was to let her hands grip his hair. He did not seem to mind much.

His tongue focused on flicking her clit for a while, making her jolt each time with quivering gasps and moistening womanhood. This man surely knew how to overwhelm her own emotions.

“Ro-Rosember?”

“Rosenberg– Institut auf dem Rosenberg. It tops the list for a refined and elite schools, your sister will flourish there.” 

He held an air of nonchalance around him as he refilled his glass. Yet Yoongi’s eyes never left her form.

(Y/N) licked her lips. Was it possible to get randomly admitted to any prestigious school so soon in the country?

“So, she will be going to a new school? I can meet her then, right?”

“I think you don’t understand Jagi. It is an elite boarding school, the best of the best. It’s in Switzerland. I sent her there yesterday.”

“You…You sent my Chae to…Switzerland?”

 She had to repeat the words herself in order to fully grasp the situation. Yoongi sent her baby sister, who needed constant supervision and regular check-ups to another country-- to a boarding school she had never heard of.

“I have sent them the details and the list of precautions and medications. Besides that, I have connections, Jagi, she will be safe there.”

By the time he finished speaking, her legs turned lifeless and she found the floor. The warmth of the carpet could not subdue the sudden waves of chills and goosebumps enveloping her form.

“You sent her away from me…”

“I gave her a good life. Imagine if it were someone else in my place, Jagi…He would have gifted you your sister’s head first before taking yours.” 

He bent down in smooth, silent motion before whispering to her with his arms holding her in faux reassurance.

Her eyes rolled back before the rawness of her throat was registered only after the rocking of her hips had slowed down. Her ears still echoed the short but sharp scream that had forced its way out of her throat like he had been forcing the pleasure out of her.

Her vision was blurry with the mix of tears and haze, but she could see him smirking– smug but somewhat unhinged.

Maybe he was indeed unhinged and cruel. He had punished her– not for her apparent betrayal. But for not loving him the way he had believed she would.

Min Yoongi had closed all doors for her, leaving her with no option but to hold on to the diamond wedding ring that now had its fangs buried on her ring finger– just as Min Yoongi had his claws buried in her life.

“Look at you~” 

She heard him coo as her head fell back on the pillow, her movement growing slow and her eyes heavy.

“What has the child done to you? She needs me!” (Y/N) cried out in anguish.

Yet it did nothing to deter his cold gaze or falter the ghost of a smirk he sported with pride.

“Nothing Love, the child has done nothing. I am not her foe. I am giving her the life millions would die for– the best of the best. I would see to it all. But when would you see her again is in your hands Jagi.”

She frowned and blinked through her tears. Up close, his scar did manage to make him appear more sinister than anyone she had ever met before.

“What are you saying?”

“I love you Jagi, there is no limit, no boundary that I would not cross for you. You can meet her after we are married and you give birth to our first child. So it depends on you how soon you can do that.”

He sealed her fate with the offer. But she wondered, how could a confession of love make one’s heart quiver with fear?

“I love you, Jagi, you have no idea how much I do.”

She could smell the sweat and musk as he leaned down to kiss her forehead before guiding his manhood to enter her. Slow, but sure, a contrast of stiffness and tenderness that both frightened and baffled her.

“Oh—” (Y/N)’s voice quivered as she held onto Yoongi’s shoulders in order to keep herself grounded. It was devastating; it was delicious, it was almost divine.

But she knew that this was no more than a nefarious act of him sinking his sharp teeth into her– held down under his thumb forever. He had the advantage, the power and the last word. He was the lion, she was a helpless, powerless prey his claws dug into.

Min Yoongi was a man of his word. 

He had told her once that he would marry her and live in his newly bought estate; they were indeed married, fucking on the bed that was flown all the way from a different country.

—---

The headlines flashed on the screen while wheels turned in her head. She sat stiffly without any movements as she watched the news.

“What are you watching?”

As if he were conjured, he walked into their room, some sandwiches on a plate, wearing the most innocuous-looking clothes. He had taken two months off from ‘work’, wishing to spend some quality time with his wife.

One week into the marriage, she was already wearing down. Both emotionally and physically. She doubted if there was any room in the mansion left where he had not taken her, or was there any corner of her mind where he had not wiggled his way into. 

“Your company is taking responsibility for constructing new police quaters and renovating the old ones?”

“Yes, why are you so surprised?”

“There are others, older candidates. Why would they give the project to you?”

Yoongi smiled and sat down beside her.

 “You are so smart, Jagi. It would be a sin to hide anything from my wife, would that not? Let's just say me and the Internal Affairs Ministry are friends now.” 

He leaned in and kissed her cheek before handing her the sandwich he had put his time making.

“So, no one disrupts me now. For a long time.”

“You did this to make sure that no one comes searching for me, right?”

He grinned. 

“I love you (Y/N). There is no limit that I would not cross for you. Eat up, I have a really good movie for us. You will love it. After that, we can have lunch, all your favourites.

He went on, while she spiralled further. Any hope of getting out of there was crushed then and there. 

He had not taken his time to track her down. He had taken his time to plan. And execute the plan thoroughly. Tracking her down was child’s play for him.

Min Yoongi was indeed a monster—a clever, stubborn and dangerous monster.

And she was in his realm, and she was there to stay. He would make sure of that.

***

The rest of the parts will be published shortly. I am facing problems in saving the draft.

A very Happy New Year to all of you!

Banner by @cafekitsune

[ifyourefree]

I'm Not Drunk

Like the title says, I’m not drunk. Just had 2 yakult soju shots and working through a beer right now, which really isn’t much. I’ve been playing Versace on the Floor by Bruno Mars on repeat (7x as of now!).

Today marks the beginning of a new month, and I’ve come to realize that carpe diem is really something I should commit to. When am I ever gonna experience a March 1st, 2022 again? The answer: never….UNLESS someone develops a time machine or some shit. 

Someone once asked me if I had the chance, would I change my past? There was a time in my life when I would’ve said “yes” without even thinking much about it. I was hurt and honestly, I used to spend a lot of time praying / manifesting for some kind of way to go back in time and re-do it all. But I've come to understand that I'm here due to all the events of the past. It's all come to this version of myself, and I wouldn't trade anything for it.

Back to the idea of carpe diem (Latin) meaning to make the most of your time / life / etc. Think Dead Poets Society and "seize the day"! It brought me back to the English 10 course I took last quarter and the TA had randomly brought up “To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time” by Robert Herrick (1648)…I remember sitting there like what the hell is this guy talking about and wrote it down in my notes because I was just so confused by the title, but damn I really needed that reminder! These days seem to have all melted into one bucket of sludge…it feels hard to place some kind of individuality in each day when it all just seems like a hardcore routine. 

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,  Old Time is still a-flying;  And this same flower that smiles today  Tomorrow will be dying. 

…

That age is best which is the first,  When youth and blood are warmer;  But being spent, the worse, and worst  Times still succeed the former. 

Basically, the poem urges women to make the most out of their days…instead of cowering and letting their beauty fade, they should run out and do the shit they wanna do…fuck a bunch of people, marry young, do wack shit while they still have time. It can also be generalized to humanity as a whole—get off your lazy ass and run around! Do the shit you always wanted to do but pushed off in the waves of routine. Enjoy your life while its still there!

With finals just around the corner (Week 11…it’s currently Week 9), I’ve been swept up in the currents like *insert swirly emoji*. It’s really hard to feel afloat when you’re constantly being body-slammed by assignments and responsibilities. But I’m holding on!!! Remembering stuff like this poem gets me going, gets me back on track, gets me pumped for the next day…

[rangersav]

"No, I'm saying that because you get this odd little twinkle in your eye whenever you're up to something," he tosses back, a soft smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as she laughs—it's not an entirely unpleasant sound, and at the very least it means she's not about to fly into a murderous rage. "If it starts makin' you feel like you might wanna tear one of our limbs off and eat it for dessert, then yeah." Maverick knows he's asking her of a lot on theory, but really his demands could have been far worse. Furthermore, he could have opted to cut her down altogether, noting that it'd be the simplest, quickest option to their issue, to her issue— but that simply isn't Maverick.

Corruption festers deep within the spawn, threatening to be the harbinger of her downfall, their downfall, unless they intervene. Maverick has never fancied himself a killer, and he's not inclined to become one now—not unless it becomes absolutely necessary. As she boldly begins to undo her bodice, the ranger awkwardly clears his throat. "You don't have to completely—" Yet, Stori has always been shamelessly unabashed in other regards; why would nudity be any different? Still, as she holds it against her, a wave of relief washes over him—not because of the lack of clothing itself, but rather the projection of his own embarrassment if he were in her shoes.

"Not the tadpole," he answers simply, lips pressing together in an apologetic manner. "When we're in each other's heads, we're in each other's bodies. Unless you somehow connected with someone who was there, watchin' you do all that," he gives a loose wave of his hand over in the direction of the mutilated corpse, "I don't see how that would work." To be fair, they don't know how any of this shit worked, but it's safe to assume that if she's the only companion having these issues, this is all entirely on her.

Deep blue hues trail over the first scar along her torso, head tilting slightly as he listens. "Definitely practiced. I wonder — you must have been sedated, given a paralytic, maybe..." Maverick trails off, shaking his head in disbelief as he pondered the possibilities, all of which were mere speculation, of course — and then dear gods, the bodice is completely off, and his eyes widen slightly even as she's turning away from him. Maverick is no prude, he's seen his fair share of women, but only behind closed doors and in very specific, private, situations.

Hells, he can already hear Astarion's mocking words in his ears now. The ranger's gaze darts around camp, and he reaches forward to lightly grasp Stori's arm. "Come on," Maverick mumbles, ducking inside of his tent and quickly pulling her along with him, "you might not care about having an audience, but..." The thought goes unfinished as he draws the tarp down to give them some privacy, sitting on the ground opposite of her.

"Okay, show me." Maverick clears his throat, her back now towards him. He mumbles a low incantation, and swirls of magic light dance onto his fingertips, which he holds up to the jagged scar in question as he inspects it. "What the..." His head shakes in disbelief, jaw clenching as a sense of anger courses through him — not at Stori, not at what she's done, but at the fact that someone had done this to her. Multiple people, most likely. For a man who so strongly believes in justice, whose always determined to see it through, he knows inherently that this isn't it, regardless of who Stori really is or what she's done.

Maverick can barely hear her over the sound of his own racing thoughts, gaze still boring intently into that damned wound -- healed, yes, but the brutality of which isn't lessened by the smoothness of the knife or the angle they were going for. He lets out a shaky breath, using the hand that isn't enchanted by the light to smooth his thumb over her marred skin. "They were aimin' for your kidneys." Is all he's able to muster, before he allows his eyes to drop. "Stori, I — gods, whatever has happened to you...I'm sorry."

"You're just saying because I won that hand." It's the first real laugh she's managed all night; the sound is bright, warm, and entirely at odds with the rest of her. "That's an extensive list. Should I alert you when I need to relieve myself as well?" But despite the sarcasm in her tone, Stori is nodding; she's really in no position to turn down help, not now. Her hand settles over her throat again, fingers covering the scar there, and she tries to banish the sudden self-consciousness at the idea of showing him the further marks on her body. There are myriad, some more concerning than others, and it's not a problem with nakedness―she has little modesty to speak of now, wonders if she's ever had any―but the unease of letting anyone know where she was weak once, even if she's no longer weak now.

After a beat she lowers her hand from her throat, and she works at the laces of the bodice she wears. "With more experiences, I'll be able to determine a pattern, but no, nothing for certain. It's hard to tell when something is standard hunger and when it's a desire to kill for killing's sake, but I've been trying to note anything that I can that might be useful." She pauses, then clears her throat. "I don't know that I'd have been able to identify what happened to me that night if Alfira hadn't been dead at my feet as proof. I question every dreamless sleep I've had, now.

"And there are times that it―this sounds mad, but―it feels almost as if I am outside my body, watching it. I do all of the things I would choose to do, but I feel as though I am not in control of my limbs, or my tongue." Her lips quirk into a suddenly self-conscious smile, and she clears her throat again. "That's not simply the tadpole, by any chance, is it?" And then, as if to distract from the sudden flush of nervousness that sweeps through her at the thought of just how much worse things are than she knew, she finishes loosening her laces. With a tug, she pulls the lacing free; she winds it around one hand so as to not lose it before she moves the bodice to hang open against her.

"There's this one." The scar is visible when she's in her camp clothes, though not the extent: it begins just below her clavicle and trails down the center of her chest, around her navel, to end above her pubic bone. "My guess would be a practiced hand made this one very intentionally―straight, careful line, no wavering, no insecurity. Like a surgeon's hand." And she pulls the bodice off entirely and sweeps her hair over her shoulder, turning around to show him her back, utterly unbothered by her new nakedness. "That one feels like a stab wound. I can't tell how big the blade would be just from feeling it, but my guess is a smooth blade, and that it healed quickly after. See?" She casts him a small smile over her bare shoulder. "Knowledge without experience. It's a fucking nightmare."

And her voice quiets. "I can feel the scar on my face, but I don't know what it looks like. There's another on my thigh―looks like it came from a chain, somehow. And then my ankles and wrists, like I was shackled." She shifts her eyes away from him now, falling silent for a moment before she speaks again; this time, her voice is near normal, but forced. "Some of the scars look different. The ones on my thigh and my ankles, they're fainter. Almost silvery. But the one on my chest, that looks like a normal scar. Well." She pauses. "Like a human's scar. I have to wonder if that tells me anything about the timeline of when I got them―if some happened before I was sired. If you have any insight, please, share it―and if you want me stripped down entirely so you can get a look at everything, you should probably buy me a drink first, at the very least. Or stop accusing me of cheating at cards, even when you're right."

[eedisgirlfriend]

the mood of the century is just stoic fear/self-indulgence

[system-of-a-feather]

Moon Knight Reviews Episode 2

Okay my official verdict is it is not perfect but I really like watching it and it falls within the realm of normal suspension of disbelief for media. I’m very very very much fond of the fact that it seems heavily implied that Marc / Steven had DID *before* becoming a mercenary / superhero cause it does very well depict that people with DID are much more prone to becoming the victims of things without also like... highlighting the fact that darker alters exist and that trauma fucks shit up pretty bad in terms of thinking about people, the world, etc.

Also very very much did like the line (paraphrased) of “I tried to keep a wall between us, but now thats going away and now things have changed. The body has more control and it takes most of your effort just be a fly on the wall” cause like... actually surprisingly good description of what it feels like to be co-con with someone else in the body.

A lot of it - at least in our experience - is that if you, when not fronting but near the front, stop thinking / wain your attention from what is going around for the slightest, its easy just to disappear and come back whenever you are back out.

I do think the amount of which they can communicate internally and fight off switches is a bit unrealistic for like... not being in therapy and treatment and actively working on it, but the way they communicate and work around switches is pretty much how XIV and I handle shit a lot of the time - including a lot of the “dude give me the body” shit. Like we’ve been in therapy for like 6 years, 4 years of it being focused on DID to get here, but thats fair enough to chalk up to a combination of 1) story telling and pacing and 2) just assuming that Khonshu probably has something to do with it.

Anyways, unless something comes up, I actually am giving this show A System of a Feather approval for “Decent DID representation” and a passing grade on “okay I don’t mind this depiction” which is actually a pretty high grade since I don’t really like depictions of DID. Like I’m not gonna give it an A+ but B- maybe? It’s passing. 

Also, full admission of bias, I’m really into cinema and movie music and I am in love with the music’s score so far - particularly the main Moon Knight theme which seems to have the main motif emulate Mars which is like.... one of my favorite classical pieces.

Also another full admission of bias, Lucille and I entirely plan to integrate at some point and Steven is pretty much probably the vibes there. I will fully agree with my fiance though, that even though I do also relate with Steven, that Steven is just *basically* Lucille. Marc is also major Ray and XIV vibes so I’m like *eating popcorn*

This shit is relatable and the music is good.

Oh and XIV was up here with me for parts of it and would probably want me to report his main take away was basically howl laughing at the fight scene cause yeah, me and Lucille would be like “I think I have this” and like get one punch, freak the fuck out in pride, and then die while him and Ray would be there sighing so we were like.... yeah lol us lol

-Riku (Host)

[legends-live-in-memories]

Focus On Me

i want yall to pretend i dont have outstanding wips i need to finish lmao. Have this instead:

Dickinette One-shot 1.9K words

Summary: 

“Dick is pissed as hell after arguing with Bruce.

His solution? Go to an underground fight club to get the shit beaten out of him.”

without further ado

Richard Grayson was many things. He was a professional acrobat. He was a dedicated vigilante. Son of freaking Batman himself. And now? Now he was pissed as hell. The fallout between him and Bruce wasn’t supposed to get this bad. Wasn’t supposed to go on this long. The radio silence was deafening and the cold shoulder burned hotter than any flaming hoop he jumped through as a kid. He knew Bruce had issues about Dick’s decision but that had nothing to do with his capabilities as a vigilante and everything to do with Bruce’s own fears and insecurities. Thinking about it just gets him riled up and he keeps replaying the harsh words they threw at each other before fists started flying too.

He needs to get out of his head for a few hours before he plans what his next move is. No. He needed to get out of his head, yes, but he needs to breathe and maybe punch someone who he doesn’t fear disappointing or someone who hasn’t dumped a ferry’s load of emotional bullshit on him. Planning what comes next can have the decency to at least wait a week. 

Trying to distract himself, he went to an underground boxing club he discovered when he was sixteen. The club was deep in the East End, hidden between the Black Bass Bar and 83rd Street. He’s been sneaking there every now and again when he wanted the time to recenter himself and get grounded before facing the world. It was therapeutic, the bruising knuckles, the blistered lips, the burning sweat in his eyes. It was rough, jaded and unpolished. Everything he wasn’t allowed to be. 

He snuck in through the regular back entrance that was reserved for fighters. The air reeked of tequila and piss and cigarettes. He could already hear the cacophony of roars and jeers from the club’s patrons as a match went on in the center ring. Making his way to the side of the ring to put his name into the bracket, he sees the current fight come to a close with a knockout. The poor guy was lying limply with a twisted ankle and a suspiciously dark bruise forming on his left side. The mat is soiled with blood, spit and what was possibly bile in one corner. Dick swung his gaze over to the fighter left standing. 

His breath feels punched out as he takes in the absolute powerhouse before him. A lean figure clad in simple matching black spandex and sports bra that left nothing to the imagination. Her bare feet were bruised and taped in seemingly random places but Dick recognised an arch to them that was only achieved through professional dancing or gymnastics. She was light on her feet, strong on her toes. Chiseled abs that put Superman to shame were marred by scars on pale skin and a fresh bandage over what could possibly be a recent stab wound resting near her hip. He eyed her wrapped fists that were caked in blood and dirt as she flexed and curled her fingers repeatedly. 

If he was left breathless by her physique then her face left him dead and buried. Bold blue eyes narrowed in concentration with her busted lips curled up in a sneer. Her cheeks were flushed and her entire face was covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her hair is pulled back into a regular ponytail with loose strands framing her face. Her hair, pure black, except for bleached blonde ends, looks greasy and unkept, highlighting her lack of care regarding her appearance. Her shoulders are hiked up to her ears and her muscles twitch and flex with pent up energy. She carries herself like someone who’s addicted to pain and the worst parts of themselves, desperate for a quick fix; the perfect reflection for how he feels right now.  Dick can’t wait to get in the ring.

“I’ll pay you $50 to get me in the ring with her right now.” He turned his neck to the fight coordinator who was counting a wad of cash. The balding man barely looked at him and just held out his hand for the payment. Dick couldn’t get his money out fast enough and before he even confirmed that he was the next fight, he was already taking his shirt off and going between the rope barriers to the floor.

The loser of the last fight was being dragged off with no concern for his well-being, while the victor stood off to the side guzzling some water. She barely side-eyes him, a quick sweep of her eyes without turning to face him, and he already feels himself flushing hot from the attention. He preens and starts stretching out his shoulders, rolling his ankles and warming up his legs at the same time. 

He barely registers the presence of the announcer, ears filled with cotton and eyes narrowing at his opponent. He looks for weaknesses, anything that would get him an edge, as he crouches into a starting position. Her wound is an obvious target and she’s short enough for easy face and neck shots. Hair pulling is also an option if he feels particularly brutish. She mirrors his stance, crouch closer to her feet and legs wider to increase lunging distance, and the full force of her gaze almost bowls him over. His eyes harden into ice shards, not willing to be swayed by twin pools of blue fire. The bell dings. He charges.

He swings an uppercut that just grazes her chin and she recoils, spins back and jabs an elbow in his ribs. He grabs her by the same elbow and twists his wrist. She twinges in pain but the hold doesn’t last long. She follows the rotation of her arm and faces him. He smells faint traces of beer on her lips and his mind swims. Pain erupts in his nose as she smashes her forehead into him. She kicks into his knee and sweeps his other leg out from underneath him. She clasps her fists together and drives them into the protruding knobs of his spine, ramming him into her awaiting knee. She moves to pin him and he uses this to his advantage. He grabs the arm that was about to press into his throat and spins her around on top of him, his chest to her back. He locks one leg around hers and cants his weight to the side, pinning her face first into the disgusting mat; he completely blankets her with his much larger body. This position doesn’t hold for long either. She still has an arm free and she uses it to punch into the side of his head. It’s not a particularly strong hit, but with the pain in his nose, and his brain feeling like it’s underwater, it is enough to disorient him and she pushes him off by her hips. 

Her narrow escape lights a fire under his skin and he reaches to grapple for her again. She slips away, again, and stands. He scurries to stand as well and immediately ducks from a leg swinging for his ribs. 

“What brings you here?” Dick almost gets whiplash from how fast he has to move. He was not expecting her to engage in conversation, much less initiate it. But she doesn’t sound malicious, just curious, and she pauses in her assault in attacks to display how genuine she was.

“Same as everyone else,” he says. He swings right for her head and follows left when she ducks, knocking her in her shoulder. “I want to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist and get slapped around for a while. You?”

She snickers at his honesty and drops into a leg sweep. He jumps over the leg but clearly she was expecting it. She rides her momentum into a roundhouse that knocks him flat as he descends. She doesn’t hesitate and charges to pin him again. 

He lets her.

“Why does someone as pretty as you want to risk ruining that nice face of yours?” Her face is close, much closer than this pin requires but he doesn’t want to push her away. But the show must go on so he kicks her in the stomach, digging his toe into her bandaged side to get her off. She recoils like a snake about to spring and regards him with cold resentment. She clearly doesn’t like the reminder of her injuries. 

“I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart. What’s a lovely lady like you doing here getting down and dirty with the local dogs?” She is many things he regards, but lovely is not one of them. ‘Stray cat’ would better describe the scrappy woman before him. The address sets her on edge and he almost regrets describing her as such. Almost. Her next series of punches have him on the defensive and he’s pushed back all the way until he feels the ropes rubbing into the bare skin of his back. The flurry of sensations is exhilarating. Suddenly it’s too much and not enough. He ducks the next punch and grabs both wrists. He made the mistake the first time and knows better now. She won’t escape him unless he lets her. Not one to be outdone, she pulls one more trick out. She doesn’t resist his grip and instead leans up closer to his ear. Her chest is pressed flush against him and he knows she’s tipping just to reach him. Her lips, damp with sweat and cooling blood, brush against his ear and a weight settles at the base of his spine.

“Got a firm grip there?” her voice is soft, almost delicate, and he almost doesn’t register the question. His tongue feels like lead and his mouth has run dry; his brain can’t make the right connections to form words. He tightens his hold on her as an answer instead. She gets it though because she chuckles a swift ‘Good’ before she’s leaping and bracing her feet against his stomach. She leans back and uses her weight to pull them both to the ground, then she lifts her feet and flips him over. His fingers loosen and she slips out of his hold again. She follows the momentum of her roll and sits firmly on his hips, one leg pinning each of his down. She grabs both of his wrists in her small hand and uses the other to tip his chin back, his skull crashing into the mat harshly, blunt nails digging into his skin.

Her face looms over his, again closer than is strictly necessary, and she smirks at him. Her tongue peaks out and swipes at the sweat above her upper lip. He holds his breath, waiting to hear what she has to say next. His patience doesn’t reward him that satisfaction, however. A ding echoes into the room, cutting through the shouts and growls of their captive audience. She won. 

Her victorious smile is a thing of beauty, he can’t really lament his loss. Before he could overthink and get lost in his head he takes a dive headfirst and gives into his impulses.

“I’m Richard Grayson. Call me Dick.” He sounds breathless and rung out. 

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” her name is perfect like her. She releases his arms and moves to get off him. She offers a hand to help him up and he takes it. Before he could say something stupid she continues her introduction.

“You can call me Nette. I hope to see you next week.”

She will.

[theoriginalladya]

Dinosaur Brain

I have the most amazing friends, I swear!

The following ficlet evolved out of conversations about Rhys Shepard and Grunt and dinosaurs ... and then it had to have some commissioned ART, too!  Fabulous art by @thepixelagora​ who somehow managed to take my incoherent ramblings about this and turn it into the absolutely most perfect picture of events!!!!  Thank you so much for lending me your talents!!  

There is more to this story, but it wasn’t quite working how I wanted, so the rest will come later.  In the meantime, have the madness that started it all!!!

The story can also be found on AO3 here.

~~~

Rhys drops into an empty seat and starts eating immediately, his focus less on the food and more on the datapad in his hand. Across from him, a chair squeaks and shadows flicker in his peripheral vision.  Still, he pays little heed to the disruption until…

“You going all dinosaur brain?”

He would prefer to flat out ignore the question, but there are times that’s worse than responding to it.  Rhys doesn’t bother to look up from the pad.  “Not this again.”

Kaidan’s chuckle of amusement drifts across the table. “What?”

“You know what.”

Kaidan leans over and stabs a piece of Rhys’ meal, retreating quickly.  He chews with a thoughtful look in his eye, then swallows.  “Tell me honestly, when have you never been thinking about them?”

“What’s a dinosaur?”

The table wobbles as Grunt slams his tray down and sits next to Rhys.  This time, it’s Kaidan who is taken aback and Rhys whose interest perks up.  “You want to know what dinosaurs are?”

“Here we go,” Kaidan mutters, rolling his eyes and reaching for his coffee.

Rhys ignores him and turns to face Grunt. “O’Keer never imprinted them on you?”

Grunt shakes his massive head back and forth. “What are they?”

Rhys peeks over at Kaidan, his blue eyes sparkling with delight.  “Translated from the Latin, the word means ‘terrible lizard,’” he explains.  “They are creatures that lived millions of years ago on Earth.”  He grabs his datapad, pointedly ignoring the sputter of choked laughter from Kaidan, and scrolls to the end of the device before passing it over to Grunt.  “This is a Triceratops.  About eight meters long and three meters tall.  They are known for having three horns on their head; one long one above each eye and a smaller one over its nose, as well as a large frill made out of bone.”

Grunt examines the picture on the datapad then glances back over at Rhys.  “Looks like a mighty warrior,” he concludes with a sage nod.

Rhys grins.  “Actually, they weren’t the fighters.  Not unless they were attacked, of course.” He takes back the datapad and sets it aside.  “The real fighters were the Velociraptors and Tyrannosaurus Rex.”

“You know,” Kaidan muses as he sits back in his seat, “I’m going to tell Wrex you’re calling him a tyrant again.”

“Oh, shut up!” Rhys hisses over at him.  He spends the next several minutes explaining about the two different dinosaurs to Grunt before he reaches into his pocket and nabs the Deinonychus claw he always carries with him.  “This is from a much smaller dinosaur, similar to the Velociraptor, called Deinonychus.  I found this on our family’s ranch when I was a kid.”  

Grunt takes the claw and squints at it, holding it up to the light and tilting his head.  “Doesn’t look very dangerous.”

Rhys chuckles.  Pushing his chair back, he stands and lifts a hand to about chest level, just above his elbow.  “They were only this tall when adults,” he explains.  “A smaller version of the Velociraptor, if you will, but older.  They were also very bird-like.”

“You know, Shepard,” Garrus comments from down the table, “if you keep making references like that, I’m going to start taking it personally.”

Kaidan almost spits out his coffee.  Rhys just grins as he retakes his seat.  

Grunt, however, stares at the datapad.  “So, what did you do with them?”

Kaidan starts to laugh uncontrollably.  Rhys kicks his leg beneath the table.  “We didn’t do anything to them.  They died out over time, long before humans were around.  We’ve spent centuries searching for their bones, fossilized in the earth.”  

The krogan sets the datapad down.  “Too bad.  I would have liked to go up against one of them.”

 ~

 A week later, while on duty in the CIC with his attention focused on planets, minerals, and potential prothean ruins, Grunt comes thundering his way through. “Shepard!”

Caught in the middle of running a scan, Rhys cannot give the krogan his full attention, and calls back over his shoulder, “Yes?”

Grunt makes some sort of disgruntled sound. “Shepard, what’s a ‘shark?’”

With his fingers flying over the haptic keyboard, Rhys’ reply comes automatically.  “Water dinosaur.”  A heartbeat passes, and he thinks about what he said before turning around to find the krogan standing there, a piece of paper in his hand.  It is an image of a Great White shark.

Kaidan is just exiting the cockpit and happens by during the conversation.  Giving Rhys a bemused look, he replies, “Really?”

Rhys shrugs back at him, but Grunt grins, a spark of delight in his eyes, and turns back toward the lift, chuckling in his usual, deep, rumbly manner.  It’s quite adorable, even if it does leave both men scratching their heads.

 ~

 Late in the Collector mission

Stops at the Citadel are opportunities Rhys never ignores.  This time around, however, he isn’t tracking down prothean specialists at the university or the archives, but shopping.  He returns to the Normandy a few hours before required, not surprised to find the CIC nearly empty as he walks through, bags in hand.  What does surprise him, however, is when the lift doors open and Kaidan steps out.  The other man sizes up the current situation and his hand shoots back out to hold the doors open for Rhys.  “What are those?” he asks, nodding at the bags Rhys carries.

Hopping inside, Rhys shrugs.  “Books.”  

Kaidan chuckles.  “Obviously.”  He reaches into a bag and tugs one free.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Rhys clarifies.  “On dinosaurs.”

The switch from amusement to… well, whatever the look in his eyes is now – half bemusement, half irritation? – is instantaneous.  Kaidan drops the book back into the bag without looking at it and slams his hand on the buttons.  “You need a fucking lab, I swear.”

Rhys chuckles.  “I tried, but Mordin won’t share.”  He’s the first one through the doors when the lift stops outside of Kaidan’s cabin.  The new arrangement works out better than expected, at least until this topic comes up in discussion.  “Besides, these aren’t for me.”

“No?”  Kaidan swipes his hand over the door’s interface.  “Who?”

“Grunt.”

Almost as if he’s listening in to their conversation, a soft, “Hehehehehe,” whispers through the walls of the ship as they enter the room.  

 ~

 2186, Citadel, during the Reaper War

While Kaidan heads off to do Spectre things, Rhys makes his way to Huerta Memorial Hospital.  After the incident on Mars and his time spent there, the desire to visit isn’t exactly thrumming inside of him, but Grunt is now a patient there, and it’s more important to check on how the krogan is doing.  Wrex’s assurances that Grunt is fine aside, Rhys decides to check in on him anyway, just to be sure.  Kaidan promises to meet up with him as soon as his responsibilities are taken care of, hopefully in time to visit the krogan as well.  

Entering the critical care ward, Rhys notices not much has changed in the weeks since his departure.  In many ways, it reminds him of the rest of the Presidium at the moment; hiding the true nature of what is happening in the Galaxy outside of the Serpent Nebula behind common, everyday things like Blasto movies, home redecoration conventions, and the latest varren races.  Nothing like sticking their collective heads in the sand.

Rhys enters to find Grunt sitting up in bed.  There are makings of a few scars – two across his face, another on his upper left arm, and one more across the broad expanse of his chest – but he appears greatly improved since receiving his injuries on Utukku.  As Rhys enters, Grunt slowly turns his bandaged head in his direction.  His voice is on the weak side, but there is an urgency to it that confuses Rhys at first.  “Shepard.”

Rhys takes that as permission to enter, removing his cowboy hat in the process.  “Hey, Grunt. How’re you doing?”

Grunt ignores the question.  “Shepard, what’s a kakliosaur?”

Startled, it takes Rhys a minute to digest the full question.  In the space between, he pulls over a chair and takes a seat.  “It’s… a krogan dinosaur, I guess,” he replies after a time. “Remember the Triceratops? Akin to that, I guess you could say.”

An added spark of life brightens the krogan’s blue eyes.  “Krogan had dinosaurs?”

Rhys chuckles but nods.  “I would point out that krogan are dinosaurs, but yeah. They had creatures very similar to Earth’s dinosaurs.”

Lying back, Grunt’s eyes close, but he manages a small laugh as he drifts back off to sleep.  “Hehehehehe.”  Rhys takes his leave a few minutes later.

After catching up with one another, Rhys and Kaidan reboard the Normandy.  Halfway through the CIC, Rhys announces, “We have a mission.”

They’re just passing Traynor’s station and she hands Kaidan several datapads.  Absently, he replies, “I know.”

Rhys sighs.  “A new one, I mean.”

That, apparently, is enough to catch the man’s attention, and he glances up.  “What?”

Using his chin to point to the galaxy map, Rhys continues, “We need to go to the Phoenix System.  It’s… important.”

Kaidan frowns.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

A grin slips across Rhys’ face.  He can’t help it.  “We are going dinosaur hunting.  Krogan dinosaur hunting, to be specific.”

The blank look in Kaidan’s eyes as he blinks owlishly at him makes it clear he has no idea what Rhys is talking about.  Either that or he thinks Rhys has lost his mind. Maybe both.  “Check your messages.”

There is a hint of apprehension in his steps as Kaidan walks over to his terminal and retrieves them.  “Shit!”

Rhys tips his hat just a bit and turns toward the elevator.  “See? Told you.  Anyway, let me know when we get there.  I know the director of the museum.”

He’s just stepped onto the lift and pressed the button for the cabin when Kaidan calls over, “Have I mentioned you’re a menace?”

Rhys’ grin widens and he winks at him.  “Not this week…”

[saharzahids]

Starkid Rewatch: A Very Potter Senior Year 🧙‍♀️✨

Schlongbottom and luna are precious souls

Joey and the blue headband - a thrilling saga

Once again: hermione's hair is more accurate than anything the movies ever did

Fuh-reeze motherfucker we're the wizard cops!

You would have made one good god damn wizard god damn wizard hell of a wizard cop

It has an inscription at the side saying "i open at the close" whatever the fuck that means

Avp Harry and hermione really deliver the sibling dynamic

Have you ever read a book? Have you ever not read a book? No!

Someone had pointed out that all the weasley kids are redheads but Arthur and molly are both brunettes, and now I can't stop thinking about it

Tyler as mcgonagall is the greatest thing ever

It was DORA

MISS EXPLORER!!

Seamus looks like a fucking angel

Look at himmm

I'm gonna say it

Harry's a douchebag

Does baby want some wine with that cheese? Fuck you.

Tom

Ma

Mar

Mervl

Mer

Mar

Meervl

Rydle

You know who accidentally killed his sister while he was in a fight with his boyfriend? This guy, right here 🤙

That part in always dance where voldemort dances with ginny is genuinely so creepy

This makes fifty shades of grey look like a fucking book for kids

The basilisk is the funniest character in the whole show

Ginny's such a dumbass I love her

A squad™

I have no idea who jim is supposed to be but xir hair is on point

His wig fell off i-

(don't make me laugh I'm pissing)

Britney i love u

The boyfriends are at it again

Meanwhile ron and lavender are in a relationship speedrun in the bg

The lyrics may be weird as shit but get in my mouth is a fucking bop

This is like that b99 meme

Hagrid - the only scottish guy in a story set in scotland

You all remember fAWKES? The phOENIX? dumbledore left him to me when he deid

Brian just shaking darren more violently every time he laughs

So does this mean he was speaking dragon language in avpm or was the dragon speaking english

The school just blamed it on some Latina chic, cause they're racist!

Sssshhhhame on you, sssshhhheamus

Oh my god we're at that scene

You know the one

Scold me professor

That's the most i can type out

Gilderoy the mouse prince

Greatest scene ever

She can't see me unless she touches the notebook. Just the same rules as death note

There's very little we can do about it. You and I are the two stupidest people i know

I got it from professor slughorn before he got busted for "collecting young boys"

You can find harry at your neighbourhood bookstore this fall motherfucker

THIS SCENE

THIS GODDAMN SCENE

That'll be like taking our whole world and- and- fucking it in the face?

They're just resin! And boy howdy do they break like fucking twigs

How about a real butterbeer? Its just cream soda you fucking idiots!

God bless starkid and their spiderman references

I'm just your everyday, working class, blue collar...gay guy with a beard

Joey really made me cry here someone please give ron a hug

Okay alright fuck harry

I'd say we FOUND each other

Fuck the tie

Whoa is that a flying diary? Oh shit

Bloody hell! that snake is almost as big as THIS SNAAAKE

Scarfy is a damn hero

Joe walker dies

I just realized hagrid is not wearing any pants

He wouldn't have wanted you kids to be sad for one moment. He would have wanted you...to be gay 🏳️‍🌈

The hugs are gonna make me cry

Neville is crying i can't-

You are named after two of the bravest men i ever knew

ALBUS SCARFY POTTER

QUIRRELMORT ENDGAME WE REALLY WON FOLKS

He taught me how to love i'm crying

I love them so much

[bestillmyslashyheart]

not broken, beautiful

Alex’s mark had been covered his entire life.

That wasn’t an exaggeration. To date, the only people who had seen it were his mother, the doctor who birthed him, and the nurse who handed him to his mother. The second his mother saw the mark she covered it up and lied to whoever asked about why.

It had remained covered ever since. His father and brothers were under the impression it was a male name and it was this shame that made his mother hide it and caused his father to never ask to see it. His brothers had tried to get him to reveal it when he was younger, a new form of torment he recognized even as a young child, but neither he nor his mother ever even revealed its location so they had no luck. 

In the military, he used makeup to cover it up for his physicals and proudly named himself one of the unmarked. The unmarked made up less than 5% of the world’s population and usually comprised those who would die young, before they could meet their mates. It was said that forgoing a mark on these unfortunate souls was the universe’s kiss of death; bare skin was a warning not to make any plans for a long life.

Alex was fine with the world assuming he was one of those. When his unit was ambushed in Afghanistan he started to believe that he’d told the lie so many times it had come true. He woke up in the hospital a week later convinced the universe had made a mistake. Three of his squad mates had marks but hadn’t met the women they belonged to yet. They hadn’t made it out and yet somehow Alex had. 

Alex with his broken mark. He got to live and they didn’t. It wasn’t fair. 

---

He was four when he started to really understand. His mother had always dabbed her makeup on his skin when no one was looking and called it their little secret. It was a game to him at first. Could he be a good boy and not tell anyone that he wore mommy’s makeup? 

Yes. Alex was very good at being a good boy.

Because not being good meant yelling. Sometimes directed at him, most times not. He didn’t want to get his mother in trouble so Alex didn’t tell anyone about the makeup. Or the mark it hid. 

His brothers’ marks were displayed proudly. On their hands, their legs, their necks.

Ella

Claire

Kara

Alex’s was different. He didn’t understand why or what it meant but he understood enough to know that different was bad. His father made sure of that. 

They thought it was a boy’s name. He heard them say it. They sounded mean when they said it but they never sounded unsure. Alex had stared at his mark in the middle of the night when he was supposed to be sleeping, a flashlight lighting up the little tent he made of his bed sheet, and it wasn’t a boy’s name. It wasn’t a name at all.

His mother left when he was ten. She made him promise never to reveal his mark, not to even mention where on his body it was in fear that someone would try to find it, and she left him a large supply of makeup to cover it up. 

She didn’t try to take him with her. 

Two years later his father seemed to finally accept the lie that his mother had told, that Alex was destined for another boy, and made his disapproval known. Alex knew then, if he’d had any doubts before, that he could never show his mark to his father. He wasn’t sure the mark would survive the meeting. 

---

Alex was seventeen the first time he wished his mark was a name instead of what it was. He’d fallen in love with a beautiful boy and he wanted to keep him forever. More importantly, he wanted to belong to him.

But Michael didn’t have a mark. Not unless he was better at hiding it than even Alex was. His skin wasn’t perfect, too many scars marred it, but it was free of any names. Alex had checked. Thoroughly.

Michael thought it was great. The two of them, free from destiny’s interference, he called it. He said they were free to make their own choices, to fall in love with whoever, not who their skin told them too.

Alex liked the idea of it. He liked the idea that he could choose Michael and be chosen in return, simply for who they were. But the lie burned him from the inside out. Every time he touched Michael, every time he kissed him, he felt the mark on his skin as a tangible thing. Because, for better or worse, Alex did have a destiny. There was someone waiting for him, even if he had no way of figuring out who. 

Or what. The mark really wasn’t clear.

What was clear was that though people regularly dated and even married people who didn’t match their mark, no one with a mark had ever been with someone without a mark. Not for more than a night. It was just asking for heartbreak.

And Alex had had enough heartbreak already.

When his father brought home the enlistment papers, Alex signed them. It was better to leave than be left, right? Better to get out now, get away from Michael now, then suffer his loss when the world tore him away.

The unmarked never got happy endings.

---

At 27, he wakes up in a hospital and his first thought is of his mark. He had no idea how long it had been since the accident, no idea who had touched him or bathed him or seen his bare skin. The thought of strange eyes on him, on it, made his skin crawl. 

He waited until he was alone before checking. A breath of relief fled him when he found his synthetic skin intact, the edges of it visible against his skin but it clearly hadn’t been removed so Alex didn’t care. He ran a finger over it when the nurse came in to check on him. 

“Your records show that you’re unmarked,” the woman said, blunt as only a military nurse could be.

“Yes they do,” Alex agreed.

She smirked. “We didn’t remove it.”

“I know.” Alex paused. “Why not?”

She busied herself recording his vitals. “It’s none of our business, Captain.” She looked at him. “Your mark is yours. If you want to lie to the US military about it, far be it from me to expose you.” She winked.

“Thank you,” Alex told her sincerely. 

“You’re welcome.”

She left and came back half an hour later with a new chart and her makeup bag. When she left the room, the makeup bag stayed on the table next to him in easy reaching distance. By the time she came back, even the edges of the skin patch were unnoticeable. 

Even so, in the quiet hours of the night Alex found himself running a finger over it, tracing the mark he couldn’t see, hadn’t really seen in years, the shape of it ingrained in him. Some said that soulmates could feel each other’s pain, even before meeting. With a sad look at the empty space at the end of his right leg, Alex hoped they were wrong. Whoever his soulmate was, he hoped they never felt his pain.

---

It wasn’t even a year after his accident that Alex started to understand. The mark had blemished his skin every second of his life and he’d never understood until he knocked his father out and broke into his command center to rifle through his secure files.

Aliens. Aliens were real.

It was the stuff of science fiction and Alex desperately wanted to scoff in disbelief. He might’ve too if Michael’s photo hadn’t popped up on his screen, a warning labelling him a dangerous threat underneath. Hell, he still might’ve if the next thing that popped up wasn’t a long scroll of text that wasn’t in English. 

It wasn’t in any Earthly language, actually. And yet, Alex knew it. 

Strange symbols with no meaning to him whatsoever filled the screen and Alex’s heart stopped beating. 

A pressing need for air forced him to breath after a few seconds but he was frozen in place. He knew that language. Knew it like the back of his hand. Or-

“Aliens are real,” his father’s voice jolted him out of his head and back to the present. “And they are more dangerous than you could possibly imagine.”

It all made sense now. Why his mother had hidden his mark from his father, of all people. Why letting his father know he was gay from the time he was born was the better solution, even though she had to have known how homophobic he was. Better he was gay than fated to an extraterrestrial. 

---

Michael was an alien. Alex’s mark was in an alien language. It seemed too good to be true.

Except the part where Michael still didn’t have a mark. And Alex had no idea what his mark actually said. It was entirely possible that his mark didn’t say Michael.

It didn’t stop him from getting his hopes up. It didn’t stop him from going to Michael and trying again after having avoided him for so long. 

It did, however, make him frantic to decode the language. The sooner he had a clear answer, the better. Once he knew for sure, one way or the other, he could go back to Michael with a clear head and a plan. 

It was weeks before he figured it out and even then it was only thanks to Kyle. 

“Why is this so important?” Kyle asked for the third time as Alex ignored him to try and install a translation service based on the information Jim had left them.

“You never know what secrets my dad could be hiding.” The official, and unofficial, story was still that Alex didn’t have a mark. If that changed, if Alex admitted the truth, it wasn’t going to be to Kyle.

“In the alien language?” Kyle asked skeptically.

Alex shrugged, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “You never know,” was all he said.

Two days after that, Alex had his answer.

After 28 years, he finally knew the name of his soulmate. It wasn’t Michael.

---

Alex wallowed for a day and then decided he didn’t care. He loved Michael. He’d accepted that long ago no matter how much he’d tried to bury it. Their soulmarks, or lack thereof, didn’t matter. Michael’s species was gone, and with it, more than likely his soulmate. And Michael may not have a mark but none of his people did. For the first time in a decade, Alex wasn’t paralyzed by the fear that Michael was going to die young, before they had any time to be together.

It was just his luck that Michael decided to move on just as Alex got his shit together. 

It was really just his luck that Maria decided after 20 years that Michael Guerin was the Michael on her ribcage. 

Alex understood, he did. Michael needed to be needed and nothing said need like your name etched onto someone’s body. And Maria looked happier than ever, a sense of lightness to her that Alex had seen in others who had recently met their matches. Alex was happy for them, truly. How could he resent someone for the very bond he told himself he didn’t crave? 

He ignored the pain in his chest when Maria started wearing tops that revealed her mark. It was common to display the mark once you’d found your match and she and Michael both seemed sure that he was so really, Alex had no reason to be hurt by it. Besides, he’d seen Maria’s mark plenty of times when they were younger. They’d spent hours considering every Michael they’d ever met, wondering which one was fated to be Maria’s. 

Alex remembered when Maria discounted Michael Guerin the second Liz suggested him when they were 14. He remembered when she did it again when they were 16. And 21. And 26. 

He wasn’t sure what had changed for her to be so sure of it now, but he couldn’t doubt her. Not when she smiled like that. Not when Michael looked at her like that.

---

Tripp Manes’ journal was a veritable treasure trove of information. Alex silently thanked the man for writing down everything that he had and for ensuring it was protected all these years. He, Michael, and Isobel sat in the Crashdown pouring over it for hours, analyzing every page, adding each new reveal to the facts they’d already known.

It wasn’t until they got to the last few pages that Alex realized exactly how valuable a find it was.

Patricia,

I don’t know how to ask this of you. I’m sure your mother has already told you all of this but in case she wasn’t able for any reason, I want you to finish my mission. Nora asked me to keep the children safe. There are three of them, sleeping in the desert. She says they won’t wake up until June 14, 1997. By that time, I’ll be long gone. Someone needs to look out for them. One of them is Nora’s son. Another is Louise’s daughter, your sister. There is a third child, too, who must be raised well. 

Please find them, if you can. Make sure they are safe and cared for.

Nora was unsure how much they would remember of their lives before, something about their stasis affecting their memories. If they do remember, call them by their names and they should trust you. Louise’s daughter, your sister, is named Vilandra. Nora’s son is called Rath. And the third child is Zan. 

Nora wrote their names for me once and I’ve transcribed them here as best I can. Hopefully they will recognize the writing if not their names.

Keep them safe. Protect them, please.

Tripp Manes

Below each of their birth names was a string of symbols denoting it in their own language. Michael and Isobel leaned over it eagerly, their fingers tracing the curves of their own names. 

Alex sat opposite them staring at the page unblinking. 

“Alex?” Michael asked. Alex looked up slowly, his eyes forced to blink. “Are you okay?”

Alex nodded. “I’m fine.” His voice sounded wrong to his own ears. It clearly didn’t sound any better to the other two if the raised eyebrows were any indication. “I have to go.”

“Wait, Alex!” Michael reached for him but Alex slipped out of the booth before he could grab hold.

He tossed an, “I’ll see you later,” over his shoulder as he escaped out the door. The second he thought he might be out of sight he put a hand over his mark, inexplicably feeling it burn at the touch.

Somehow he ended up at the hospital outside of Maria’s room. He hovered awkwardly in the shadow of the doorway, unsure what to say or even really what he was doing there.

“Alex?” He heard her call. And well, who was he to ignore a woman bed ridden in the hospital? Especially when that woman was Maria.

“Hey,” he greeted softly as he stepped into the room. She was sitting up in bed and looked better than the last time he had seen her. “How are you feeling?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been better. I’ve also been a lot worse so-” she laughed and Alex found himself chuckling along with her.

“You look better,” he told her. She smiled in thanks. “You also look like you’re about to make a break for it.”

“Well,” she shrugged, a grin twisting at her lips. “You gonna cover me?”

“I’ll drive the getaway car,” he promised.

They settled into a comfortable silence as he pulled a chair up next to her bedside. “Thank you for the box.”

Her eyes lit up. “You read the journal? Was it helpful?”

“It was,” he confirmed. “Isobel and Guerin couldn’t get enough of it.” Maria’s face fell at Michael’s name. “Everything okay?”

Maria picked at her hospital bracelet. “We broke up.”

Alex leaned forward in shock. “What? Why? He’s your-” he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

But Maria was already shaking her head. “No, he’s not.” She sniffed. “I wanted him to be but it never felt quite right. It never felt like everyone said it’s supposed to feel. He’s, he’s amazing. And I love him,” she said, slightly apologetic, “but he’s not meant for me. And maybe we could have made it work regardless but we want different things and I need to put myself first, you know? I need to do what’s right for me. So I ended it.”

Alex stood up only to sit back down on her bed. He took her hand in his, not wanting to push. “I’m sorry. I know how much you too care about each other.” His mark burned.

“Yeah. But when it’s not meant to be, it’s not meant to be. And I’d rather it end now then continue until we’re both miserable. This way we’re friends, right? No hard feelings, no heartbreak…” She leaned towards Alex and he took it as his cue to wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

“What could you possibly be sorry for?”

“That you don’t have a mark,” she confessed quietly. “Even when everything is awful and I’m at my lowest point, I have my mark. My Michael is out there somewhere and we are destined for each other. Knowing that has got me through some hard times. I can’t imagine not having it.”

There was a lump in his throat. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Only if you want to share.”

Alex pressed his forehead to the top of Maria’s head, grateful that she couldn’t see him right now. He’d never told anyone, not in his entire life. “I do have a mark.” Maria stiffened in his arms but she didn’t try to look at him and Alex could’ve wept in gratitude. “My mom covered it up the day I was born and made me promise never to reveal it,” he confessed. “So I didn’t.”

“You’ve had a mark this whole time?” Maria sounded awed. “God, Alex, that’s incredible.” She didn’t ask why he’d lied. It was a good thing too, since Alex knew he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Not yet.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “Incredible.”

---

Michael wasn’t here. Not that Alex was expecting him, that wasn’t the point of this whole endeavor, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Michael to hear the song Alex had written for him.

Forrest called his name and Alex took his place at the keyboard. He paused a moment to take in a steadying breath, his brother nodding at him in encouragement from the audience, and then he began to play.

Michael appeared not long after he started. Their eyes met across the room and Alex had to smile. There was a look of gentle disbelief on Michael’s face, his eyes alight as he watched Alex, that made Alex feel like he could fly. Any hesitation, any nerves he had left in him, was gone, just like that.

He lost himself in the music for a while and when he looked back, Michael was gone. Isobel was right behind him but she glanced at Alex one last time and he made sure to make eye contact. She shrugged apologetically even as Alex tried to ask her to get Michael back here with his eyes alone. 

She left. And Michael didn’t come back.

Alex finished the song and accepted his applause graciously. He hugged Forrest tightly, thankful for his encouragement to get up on that stage in the first place, and then he followed Michael.

“You’re an idiot!” He heard Isobel before he saw her. 

“Give me my keys, Iz!” Michael’s voice was quieter than Isobel’s.

Alex rounded the corner of the bar to see the siblings standing off in front of Michael’s truck, his keys clutched firmly in Isobel’s hand. “Don’t run away, Michael. It doesn’t suit you.” Alex thought Isobel might actually say tsk tsk, the reprimand was so clear in her voice.

Michael glared at her. “Sure it does.” 

“Guerin.” Alex stepped into the light. Michael turned to him and froze. Isobel, on the other hand, looked positively gleeful as she turned and tossed the keys to him. 

“I leave him in your capable hands.” She flounced back inside, stopping briefly to lay a hand on his shoulder. “By the way, I liked the song.”

Alex and Michael listened to her footsteps fade away, the noise of the bar spilling into the night as she went back inside. 

“Your song was amazing,” Michael exhaled. 

“Thank you,” Alex told him sincerely. He started closing the gap between them in slow, easy steps. Michael didn’t move away. “I wrote it for you. About us.”

Michael closed his eyes. “You can’t say things like that Alex.” It almost sounded like a whine.

“Why not?” Alex shrugged. He stopped moving, nearly close enough to touch Michael if he reached. “It’s the truth.”

“We’re supposed to be moving on.”

“Says who?”

Michael didn’t answer that. “Forrest looked pleased.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Yeah well he’s been pushing me to get up there for weeks so I imagine he was happy to succeed.”

“You should get back in there then. He’s probably waiting for you.” 

Alex shook his head. “Maybe he is, but I doubt it. I did just publicly sing a love song I wrote about another guy. I can’t imagine he thinks I’m available to start anything with him.”

Michael scrunched up his nose. “Alex, you deserve to be happy.”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back inside?” Alex cocked his head. “Do you really want me to go? Do you really want me to be with someone else?”

“No!” Michael took a small step towards him, his hand floundering in the space between them as he reached for Alex but stopped himself. “I just want you to be happy.”

Alex nodded slowly. “Do you think I’d be happy with my soulmate?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a mark.”

“I do, actually.” Alex stifled a smile at the shocked look on Michael’s face. “My mom covered it up when I was born and told me never to tell anyone. Said it was my secret and the world didn’t need to know.”

“So you lied.”

“Yes.” In one careful movement, Alex unclasped the thick band of his watch from his left wrist and bared his skin to Michael’s eyes. “Mom seemed to think that flaunting a mark written in an alien language would be a bad idea. I agreed.”

Michael grabbed his hand and turned his wrist to see it better. Alex let him look. It was the first time anyone had seen it in over 20 years and it was a heady feeling. 

“Alex,” Michael breathed. He looked up at him with wonder in his eyes. “This is-”

Alex smiled. “Imagine my surprise when I saw my mark written in my great-uncle’s journal. In all the Project Shepherd files, I never saw anything that looked like it.” He shrugged. “I did my best to translate it but the translation didn’t mean anything to me. Not until yesterday.”

“This is my name,” Michael said wondrously. “You have my name, Alex.”

“I do,” Alex agreed. “I get to keep you, forever.” He tapped his wrist. “Right here.” He tapped his heart. “And here.”

“Alex,” Michael laughed. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“I’m talking to my soulmate, I get to say ridiculously cheesy lines.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “I’m your soulmate.” He dropped Alex’s hand. “I don’t have a mark, Alex.”

“I know,” Alex reached for him. “None of your people do. It’s a human thing. But I don’t need you to have my name, Michael. Hell, I didn’t need to have your name, it’s just a really great feeling that I do.” He reached up and cupped the back of Michael’s head. “I meant what I wrote in the song. You are the best of me, Michael.”

Michael inhaled shakily. “I think I missed that part.”

“That’s what you get for leaving early.”

“Never again,” Michael promised immediately. He shook his head. “Never again.”

Alex smiled.

“So now what?” Michael asked after a beat of silence. “Where do we go from here?”

“Pizza?” Alex asked. “Grab a movie?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You want to go on a date?”

“Why not? We’ve never done it. Might as well give it a shot.”

Michael was quiet. “I just broke up with Maria.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I can jump right into a new relationship, not even with you. I’m sorry.” 

“So it’s not a date,” Alex shrugged. “We can invite other people, make it a group thing. I just want to spend time with you. We can take it slow. Wait a bit. However you want this to go.”

“I can’t ask you to wait until I’m ready, Alex. That’s not fair.”

“Maybe not. But I’ve found my soulmate, Michael. Nobody else can compare to you, there’s no point in trying.”

Michael groaned and dropped his forehead against Alex’s, his hand gripping Alex’s shirt. “I don’t know if I can handle any more of these lines.”

Alex smirked. “I’m sure you’ll get used to them.”

“I guess I’m going to have to.” Alex hummed in agreement. “I’m okay with that.”

“Good.”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Suicide Queen (part two)

[Ice Skater AU]

Part 1

The Sixtended characters that cameo in this chapter belong to: Mary Boleyn- @marygrey, Meg Tudor- @me-tizi, Jane Parker- @altairtalisman, Christina of Denmark- @the-queen-of-the-castle, Anya Askew- @thenicestnonbinary, Anne Parr- @inquisitive-mess

TW: Referenced self harm

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

Bessie’s eyes were stinging when she woke up that morning. She groaned, draping an arm over her face, and knew it was going to be one of those days.

She hauled herself out of bed and gazed around her small dorm room. She always thought it was rather dull compared to some of the others she had seen, simply having a bunk bed with a black couch underneath it, a desk, a single shelf for her belongings, and a venus fly trap that she took care of better than she took care of herself. Thick grey blackout curtains were drawn tightly over the single window; she preferred to use light from the lamp sitting nearby or the fairy lights strung across her ceiling. She never turned on the overhead fluorescents if she didn’t have to.

On her way down from her bunk bed, Bessie stumbled on the last rung of the ladder and nearly hit her head against the wall directly behind her. She wished she had. She longed for her skull to shatter and for her brains to ooze out, signaling that she was no more in this horrible world.

Her bare feet sunk into the fluffy white carpet in front of her couch. The softness brought on an odd sense of comfort and she sighed softly.

  “Another day,” She said to the taxidermy crow sitting on her desk.

She wondered if the reason why nobody liked coming into her room was because of all the vulture culture stuff she had. Her shelf was full of various animal skulls and bones, she had a bottle full of fangs, a jar with peacock feathers sticking out of it, and even a real kangaroo fur she bought from an antique store hanging up on the wall. A lot of people found it creepy and ‘cruel’, but she found it all fascinating.

After watering her venus fly trap, which she had named Jackie, she grabbed some fresh clothes and her shower supplies and stepped out into the hallway.

Her dorm building was notorious for its decorations during the holidays. It was always set up, regardless of what season it was. Right now, black and orange fairy lights were suspended across the ceiling, with little rubber bats and spiders hanging freely, signaling Halloween. There were even a few skeletons and zombies standing around in the corners, which never failed to scare the absolute shit out of Bessie when she got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Several girls were already awake and mulling around, getting ready for the day. Mary Boleyn and Meg Tudor were chatting loudly outside Mary’s dorm room, talking about something some idiot said in their political science class. Margaret Dymoke was waiting impatiently outside of Christina of Denmark’s room, yelling at her to ‘hurry her ass up.’ Jane Popincourt was whisking out of the bathroom, shamelessly swathed in a pure white robe. Bessie shuffled past her with her head down and entered the bathroom.

Along with Jane Parker and Anne Parr, The Beast was there to greet her inside.

  “Good morning, darling,” It said from the reflection of the mirror.

Bessie used to have a mirror in her room. She had to get rid of it after she punched it while having a mental breakdown and shattered the entire thing. She remembered all the heads peeking out of the other rooms as she walked the broken thing to the dumpster outside.

Bessie felt Jane and Anne’s eyes on her as she trudged into one of the open showers. Their conversation resumed after she turned on the faucet, thinking the sputtering of the showerhead would drown out their words, but Bessie could still faintly hear them.

  “…She’s so weird.”

  “…Yeah. I’m surprised the counselor hasn’t called her in yet.” 

  “…They haven’t already? Damn. I thought literally everyone telling them about how she cries herself to sleep at night would be enough.”

  “…Clearly it’s not. I kinda feel bad for her.”  

  “…Yeah, me too.” 

Their gossiping whispers disappeared as they seemed to exit the bathroom, and Bessie was left in silence once again.

But only for a moment.

  “You wanted attention, didn’t you?” Said The Beast. Even with the spraying water, Bessie could still hear it so clearly. Probably because its voice came from inside her head, and it wouldn’t quiet down no matter how hard she covered her ears.

  “Not like this,” Bessie muttered. She stared down at her naked body, at the slimness of her sides, at the sunkenness of her stomach, at the cuts marring her stomach and thighs. She splayed her hands open in front of her and looked at the scoring on her wrists, the point system of her constant losing battles. She clenched her fists.

  “Be grateful,” Said The Beast. “They could ignore you. And don’t say you would want that because I know how you react to being shunned.” Even though she couldn’t see it behind the curtain, Bessie knew it was smirking. “You would be alone with me.”

Bessie grit her teeth. “Shut up.”

She roughly grabbed a bottle of vanilla milk and papaya shampoo and squirted way too much into her hand. She began scrubbing it violently into her hair, making sure to rake her nails down her scalp so she could feel the pain. 

Hey, at least she was bathing. Her hair had been a greasy mess for about two weeks now.

  “They can ignore you, but you can’t ignore me,” The Beast said. “I’ll always be here, darling. I’m your best friend. I’m your only friend.”

  “Shut up!” Bessie yelled, yanking back the shower curtain and flinging the shampoo bottle at the mirror The Beast was reflected in. At the same time, Anya Askew entered the bathroom with her showering supplies and gave Bessie an extremely confused and concerned look. 

Bessie jerked the curtain back so only her head and shoulders could be seen. “Umm-- S-sorry, I was--” She glanced at the mirror, and Anya’s eyes followed, but she knew she couldn’t see The Beast smirking in the glass. “Thought I saw a spider! G-guess I was wrong! S-sorry!” She wrenched the curtain shut completely and backed up against the wall, covering her face with her hands.

  “I don’t even need to ruin your life,” The Beast said, sounding like it was right behind her. “You do it for me. You make my job so easy.”

Bessie squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a few tears stream free. She sniffled and swiped them away quickly. She couldn’t cry this early in the day. She needed to retain some shred of dignity.

Turning her attention back to the shower, Bessie began scrubbing her body with apple-scented soap, wincing when any open cuts on her skin stung in reaction to the chemicals. The scars, those that hadn’t scabbed over yet, were still gooey and red, the flesh around their edges white and puckered from the water. The faint paint they caused brought a dull sense of clarity within Bessie.

God. How much more of a freak could she be? Was she some kind of masochist or something?

No… No, she only liked pain when it was self-inflicted. She didn’t like when it was put upon her by someone else. He proved that.

She shook her head, sending a scatter of water droplets flying throughout the small space. She twisted underneath the hot water, washing off all the soaps and suds still clinging to her frame. 

She was clean once again.

  “Or as clean as a teenage whore could be…”

Bessie just barely managed to bite back a yell, remembering that Anya was still in there with her. So, instead, she just closed her eyes and breathed out heavily.

After drying herself off and wriggling into her clothes for the day- grey sweatpants and a plain black sweater- Bessie stepped out into the rest of the bathroom. Even with the mirror completely fogged up, she could still see The Beast’s red eyes glinting at her hungrily as she walked to one of the sinks.

  “You’re beautiful,” The Beast cooed, materializing in the mirror over the sink she was using.

  “Shut up.” Bessie growled, thinking that Anya couldn’t hear her because of the running water.

  “I’m just complimenting you,” The Beast said innocently. “You should thank me.”

Bessie glared down at the sink as she began brushing her teeth with so much force her gums began to bleed. She spit bloody toothpaste foam into the drain before washing it out, gathering her things, and storming out of the bathroom. She faintly heard The Beast chuckling deeply before the door shut.

Once back in her door room, Bessie put her showering supplies back in their place and set her pajamas on the couch for later. She brushed out her long black hair, not caring if it was dripping wet, and then gathered her school supplies, put on her glasses, and left the dorm building.

Upon stepping outside, Bessie’s glasses instantly fogged up. She took them off while walking forward, wiping away the cloudiness until they were clear again. She put them back on and saw a black truck sitting by the curb.

Bessie froze.

All the dorm buildings on Princeton University were further away from the main campus, fenced in by brick walls and a gothic-looking gate. That meant that, unless Bessie wanted to try and scale the walls, she only had one way out. And she would have to pass the truck to do that.

Gathering up all her courage, Bessie began striding towards the gate. There were kids already outside in the courtyard, surely He wouldn’t try anything… 

Her confidence disappeared completely when she crossed the threshold, and Bessie fought the urge to turn and run back to the safety of her dorm. She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry as she walked by the truck. The windows were so tinted that she couldn’t see inside, but she knew He was looking back at her.

The truck rumbled to life upon her crossing the street. Bessie didn’t run, knowing that running would only make Him chase her. Maybe He would just go away if she moved slowly and acted like she didn’t care…

A tear ran down her cheek as the truck began rolling along behind her. She turned sharply and walked up a short flight of stairs that led up the curve of a small hill. Princeton University’s sprawling, plant-filled campus was then stretched out to her, but not even its thriving beauty could calm her nerves.

Bessie walked faster, keeping her head down. She knew she should be monitoring the truck, but she didn’t want to look at it. She didn’t want to risk seeing Him.

She tried to distract herself by looking around. The lush, healthy emerald green grass was sprinkled with early morning snow, glinting softly in the pale light slipping down from the blanket of grey clouds in the sky. It was too dull for shadows to be cast, and yet a dark shade grew from her feet and smiled at her wickedly.

  “Come to me, darling,” The Beast said.

Bessie jerked sideways and ran right into someone without even realizing it. She heard a grunt and instantly tottered backwards, apologies spilling from her lips.

  “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I-I wasn’t watching where I was going!” Please don’t hurt me…

The person she had rudely bummed into stepped back, blinking brown eyes that were so dark they looked like pieces of ebony infused in their skull. Bessie realized it was a woman a year or two older than her, and she was the most beautiful person she had ever laid eyes on.

Internalized homophobia had always been one of the many problems Bessie had, but not even THAT could disagree that this was the most gorgeous human being to ever grace the earth.

She was a dark-skinned woman, tall and muscular, looking like she was capable of crushing Bessie’s skull between her thighs like it was a watermelon, and Bessie found herself longing for that to happen, and not just because she was suicidal. Her short dark brown hair was cut into a style that screamed ‘I AM NOT STRAIGHT!!’, tucked gently into a vermillion beanie, which only fueled Bessie’s hope that her gaydar wasn’t messing up. She was dressed in black jeans and a red-and-black flannel, which had its ends tied together over her stomach. When she spoke up, her voice was husky and warm, tinged with a German accent.

  “You’re good,” The woman said. “No worries!” She smiled down at Bessie, but it disappeared in almost an instant. “Hey, are you alright?”

Bessie sniffled, and she realized there were a lot more tears than she had thought. She opened her mouth, lips quivering, and pointed to the truck nearby without even thinking her decision through.

  “Th-that truck,” She whimpered out. “I-it’s following me.”

Bessie expected the woman to dismiss her panic, saying something like, ‘there’s trucks everywhere!’ or ‘how do you know for sure that it’s following you?’, but instead she glared at the truck and flipped the driver off as it sped away.

  “Fucking creep,” The woman muttered. She turned back to Bessie, looking concerned, and set a hand on her shoulder. When Bessie flinched at the contact, she respectfully pulled her arm away, and Bessie cursed her instinct to recoil at any touch because she really wanted this woman to touch her (just not like that, not like that--). “Are you okay?”

  “Y-yeah,” Bessie said, quickly wiping away the tears that were still on her cheeks. “Th-thank you.”

The woman smiled that beautiful smile again. “No problem!” She seemed to sense that Bessie was still on edge because she then said, “Would you like me to walk you to class?”

Bessie looked surprised, but nodded fervently. “Y-yes. Please.”

The woman nodded and began walking with Bessie, scanning around the area as if she were a guard dog. “I’m Anna, by the way.”

  “Bessie,” Bessie said.

  “Bessie?” Anna echoed.

Bessie blushed faintly. “It’s silly, isn’t it? It’s the 21st-century, who names a kid ‘Bessie’ if they aren’t a cow?” She gave a small laugh, shifting her belongings in her arms. “Umm-- My real name is Elizabeth.”

  “I think Bessie is cute.” Anna commented.

The blush turned from a light pink to a deep, dark red in an instant. Bessie’s pale skin definitely didn’t help make it any less noticeable. 

  “R-really?” Bessie stammered, wide-eyed.

  “Yeah!” Anna nodded, grinning. “It’s impossible to create a nickname for my name unless it’s the dumb ‘Anna Banana’ one.”

Bessie giggled. “What about ‘Annie’?”

Anna thought it over, then tipped her head at Bessie with a smile. “I like Annie, actually. Good thinking, Bessie.”

Bessie’s ears felt like they were on fire, but, for once, it was in a good way. She couldn’t help but smile back shyly.

  “Okay, so I actually have no idea where we’re going,” Anna admitted. “I’ve just been following you. I’m new here.”

  “Oh,” Bessie said, nodding. “That explains why I’ve never seen you before. Where’d you come from?”

  “Düsseldorf, Germany,” Anna said, which explained the really attractive accent. Bessie’s face burned even hotter. “I’m living in an apartment down the road. I prefer to have my own personal bathroom.”

Bessie giggled. “I get that. Living in a dorm has its perks, though.”

  “Really? Like what?”

Bessie was silent. “Hang on, I’ll think of something…”

Anna laughed loudly, and Bessie couldn’t help but join in.

  “You’re funny, Bessie,” Anna said as they got near the math building. “I like you.”

Bessie faltered. “R-really?”

  “Really!” Anna said, then tilted her head. “You seem surprised.”

  “Oh, no, I-I just--” Bessie trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to spill stupid stuff and ruin her friendship with this woman. She shook her head. “Nothing. Nevermind.” She looked at the large building looming over her. “Well. This is my stop. Thank you again for helping me. I had a really good time talking to you.”

  “I did too,” Anna smiled. “See you around, Bessie.” She gave a saluting goodbye before turning and walking down the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets.

Bessie watched her go, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Not even the frigid wind could cool down the heat on her face.

  “Bye,” She whispered long after Anna had walked away.

[brucesterling]

Winter is coming (for creatorfolk)

*He’s a science fiction writer from India, and yet I’ve seen lists a lot worse than this.

https://samit.substack.com/p/winter-is-coming-for-creatorfolk

So here is an advisory checklist

Samit Basu

Oct 5

Some basic guidelines for creators for the upcoming local economic collapse/global churn but also in general because why not

Money flows to you, not from you.

But pay every collaborator you’re supposed to, full amounts, on time or before.

Get an agent.

Diverse sources of market information.

One experienced ally > 10 internet how-to articles

Community, not competition.

Do not price-undercut, it damages everyone.

Every time you work for free you harm yourself and others.

Exposure = selfie

Give good advice, take good advice.

Learn the rules before breaking them, then break them at will.

Read (/see) more all the time.

There is no Best Way to do anything. There is the best way for you, which you figure out over time.

Do not compare yourself with other creators, you don’t know all their privileges/struggles

Any ‘X is popular, create X’ trend-chasing advice is two years too late.

Always revise, rework, rewrite.

Not repeating huge mistakes is best.

If an artist’s lifestyle is what you want, focus on that. You can skip the creating entirely.

Anyone who says X aspect of storytelling is unimportant is probably bad at X aspect of storytelling. They’re all important

No form of creating is better than any other, though one might be best for you.

Cliques/crab-in-bucket-collectives are a great route to midlists (though communities/collaborative groups can revolutionise fields)

Social media is not helping you.

Give creation the time it needs. And the space. And breaks when you need them, and you need them.

Popularity/influence contests are not a measure of value

Most ‘Show Don’t Tell’-esque better-writing Wisdoms are stupid.

You have to keep at it until you get it right.

A rubbish draft is infinitely better than a perfect unwritten thing.

Backup. To the cloud, to a hard drive, to your face.

Try not to break a book/film down into its constituent atoms for Structural Learning the very first time you read/see it

Most success is privilege, luck, and bloody-minded stubbornness enabled by privilege and luck.

It’s supposed to be fun if you have no fun for years please stop

Learn to tell useful feedback (this specific thing is not working, this other thing/aspect/character is wonderful) from useless (what if this were set on Mars, all good literature is set underwater, it’s not Kafkaesque enough)

Don’t take masterclasses from people who have never done the thing they are teaching successfully.

Don’t chase agents/producers/publishers who are the biggest names in the field unless they are also the right a/p/p for you.

Bathe in a sea of rejections. They mean nothing. Learn to translate them into what they actually mean. You only need one yes.

The perfect sentence doesn’t exist.

No one creates a perfect fully-formed masterpiece on their first try.

Your voice will develop over time and hopefully not get stuck

Very very few people get to do what they love for a living so please feel grateful if you can.

Try not to be an asshole? There are several people who get away with it, but still try?

Expect major delays in contracts and payments (even with an agent)

Try and build a circle of trust, whisper networks, information exchanges - all imperfect, but tend to correct over time.

Make financial plans that do not depend on lottery wins from creative-project sales. Learn how to manage your money.

Try and avoid shady collaborators/work unless absolutely desperate. Not being anxious all the time is worth a lot of money.

Have friends outside your field who have no interest in your work (though are still nice enough to like your promos)

You are neither as terrible nor as incredible as you think you are.

The more empathy you have, the better your creative work will be.

Don’t punch down. Don’t dumb down. (Yes, both can be rewarding, but please dont.)

Especially in the 2020s, all art is political, and you can’t please everyone.

Finish shit

Explore new platforms, especially indie ones, whenever you can. Your terms of engagement with monopolies/oligopolies will get worse over time.

Find the line at which you can promote your work without being an utter nuisance to yourself and others, hopefully, and don’t stop until you reach that line. No one else is going to do it for you.

Fiction requires logic and structural integrity even when reality doesnt.

Figure out the end as soon as you can because you Have to stick the landing.

Diversify income streams, opportunities, media. Whole fields and industries change abruptly.

Be nice to people who read/see your work. Unless they’re not nice to you.

Don’t review reviews. Don’t fight reviews.

No one owes you anything and everyone has their own hellscape to deal with at any point of time.

Nothing is more important than the wellbeing of the people you love.

Animals are nice. If you have no access to real animals, animal GIFs are great too. Except pigeons, wasps and flying cockroaches, to hell with those.

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Blood, Baths, and Bakugou

thank you for kicking things off annon! and before anyone asks this is the draft I posted accidentally 🤡

Bakugou x reader

word count: 1,200 (about)

warnings: Nudity, swearing, mentions of injuries and violence,

summary: you are convinced you can handle this by yourself, your hot-headed boyfriend? not so much...

You eased yourself back into the bath, the scalding water was maybe not the best idea for your marred back but you didn’t care.  You cursed and fought back tears. The once clean water was already starting to darken with the filth that covered your body, and the blood that oozed from your cuts.

You huffed and did your best to ignore the sting, you grabbed a washcloth and began the grueling task of scrapping away the grime that covered you. Your hands shook with the effort, you could barely apply enough pressure to make even a dent. Suddenly the bathroom door swung open and hit the wall with a bang. you jumped, sending some of the water flyings. You yelped in surprise, but it was just Katuski. 

“I am a lady you know? you could at least pretend to care about my modesty,” you grumbled but didn’t even bother trying to cover your naked body. you were so caked in rubbled and blood he probably couldn’t see much anyway. 

“you’re a fucking moron,” Kastuki growled ignoring you and looking pissed off as ever in the doorway of your bathroom.  He marched towards you sneering.  He was still in his hero costume, he must have come straight from work after he saw your battle on the news. 

“Look at you you’re a fucking mess!” he barked stopping next to the tub “(y/n) why the fuck didn’t they let them take you to the hospital?” he demanded you dropped your eyes unable to meet his blazing red eyes.

“come on It’s not that bad,” you mumbled, it was a lie and both of you knew it.

“(y/n) you are bleeding out in our fucking bathtub,” he shouted kicking the tub for emphasis. you just scoffed and rolled your eyes. It had been a nasty fight and Bakugou was right, as much as you hated to admit it, you probably should have let the paramedics take you away.

“I’m fine I just need to get this shit off of me,” you insisted and went back to scrubbing blood off your arm. he kneeled by the tub

“you could have died (y/n),” he whispered, making you pause he was never quite like this, not unless he was really mad.

“there were reporters there Kasuki,” you whispered hoping that would be enough to make him understand. it wasn’t.

“What did one of those fuckers shove a mic in your face or something?” he growled angrily. 

“No- it’s just. you wouldn’t understand,” you sighed. He was a good Hero, Stronger than anyone else no one questioned his rank or skill, so how could he possibly understand your position?

“Just get out of here so I can get cleaned up,” you snapped which made him wince.

“eat shit, I’m not leaving you alone,” he responded then snatched the washcloth from your hands “you’re doing a shitty job cleaning yourself up anyways.” he bit down on his glove and yanked it off with his teeth the pushed up his sleeve before dunking his hand in the hot water.

Despite his aggressive personality, he was gentle when he touched you and he did a better job of cleaning you up then you would have done your self. your eyes fluttered shut. you relaxed in the tub moving whenever Katsuki prompted you to do so, then he got to your back, where the worst injury was. he sucked air through his teeth sharply. 

“Fuck, look what they did to you,” he muttered to himself mostly. he didn’t even try to touch you, every other bruise and cut was small he could deal with those but this was a whole other level. he sat back looking at you

“explain to me what went through your dumbass head when you said you didn’t need help,” he demanded in that same quiet tone of voice that scared you.

“dose it matter Katsuki?” you snapped “I didn’t think I needed help so fuck off alright?” you told him. 

You knew how what people thought about you, you were weak, too weak to be a real hero, every time you were in a fight there were whispers about how it would have been over quicker if it was another hero, every injury you got was proof that you weren’t good enough. the Reporters were there, recording your every move what would they have said if you had accepted help? if you had shown the world just how breakable you were?

If it had been Katsuki, he wouldn’t have even gotten hurt and if he had, no one would have dared called him weak, it would just mean the villain was unbeatable.

“Hey look at me,” Bakugou said softly cupping your cheeks. “Come on I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me Hotstuff.” he purred. you laughed lightly at the stupid nickname. your lower lip wobbled as you fought back tears.

“I don’t want people knowing how weak I am,” you whispered finally. he looked surprised. 

“They all look at me Like I’m pathetic and I just couldn’t let them think they were right,” you said, the first tears started rolling down your face. Katsuki brushed the tears from your face and shushed you lightly.

“come on (y/n) you aren’t weak, you’re the strongest bitch I know,” he muttered “and anyone who thinks different clearly has never fought you,” he added soothingly. you smiled at that. If it was anyone else you might have thought they were just saying it to make you feel better. But If he had thought you were actually weak he would have told you so.

“thank you Katsuki,” you sniffled, he gave you a small smirk

“you want to know something?” he asked you nodded eagerly. he let go of your face to rub the back of his neck

“during our first year, during the sports festival.” he started “when you were up against Kaminari, and you kicked that dipshit’s ass, That’s the moment I knew I was in love with you,” he said in a moment of rare vulnerability. you couldn’t help but laugh, even though it hurt.

“katsu that’s- really?” it was sweet, if not a little weird. 

“you were just really hot when you flipped him like it was nothing.” he reminisced making you laugh even more.

“who would have thought you were so romantic,” you laughed. his smile widened

“only for you Hotstuff, Now come one we’re going to get you dressed then straight to the hospital, I think you need stitches.”

“and If anyone calls your dumb ass weak for needing medical attention I’ll blast them to hell,” he promised. wrapping his arms around your midsection and hoisting you out of the filthy water. you hissed in pain as he hooked his arm under your waist. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered.

“it’s okay,” you muttered blinking out the stars that clouded your vision.

“Katsuki, thank you for this, and for everything,” you whispered. 

“Shut up loser don’t get sentimental on me now,” he scoffed holding you closer to his chest despite how soaked you were. you were glad to hear him back to his normal self, some of the worry gone from his voice. you really did love him. 

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Stalemate.”

An update on the Burg war :) Hope you like. 

“Commander be advised, more Burg ships have appeared from warp.”

“Shit, how many.”

“I uh….they don’t know sir, but they say it has to be an entire fleet.”

“Damn it.” The darkfire banked a hard right and began angling upwards. McCaster did his best to get information on the battle proceeding above their heads, though most of the information was garbled and confused.

The dogfight above the Gromm city hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes, and while there were still burg drones about, the commander clearly trusted the other pilots to take care of this mess.

They had lost three jets over the course of the battle, which was a surprisingly expensive ad large percentage of their flight budget in the UNSC, of course he ws sure the commander was less worried about the monetary cost as much as he was worried about the cost of lives. 

Six pilots dead, and more sure to follow.

McCaster’s stomach dropped back against his spin as the commander cut the jet engines and switched to fusion. The switch was so quick that he only  had a momentary feeling of free fall before they were rocketed back skyward cutting through the atmosphere and breaking into the dark reaches of space, the eggshell blue of the sky fading about them until darkness and the vast universe beyond unfolded before them.

A universe that was now besieged by silent explosions and eruptions of short lived fire immediately snuffed by the vacuum of space. Debris flew in all directions, and even the commander was having a hell of a time keeping from exploding cutting this way and that, pulling maneuvers that shouldn’t have been possible  slicing between two parallel pieces of floating metal so close that McCaster could see the individual rivets running down its silver length.

Cutting past that, the commander pulled down bringing them in a stomach churning dive before moving back upwards, pressing them back into their seats.

Ahead of them chaos was unloading, the GA on one side and the burg on the other. Ordinance flew back and forth, and, as they watched,  stuck and unable to do anything to help, one of the burg ships cut around from the side and tagged one of the UNSC vessels, with a round straight to the port side.

There was a silent explosion, fire ripped through the inside of the hull as oxygen was quickly consumed. The ship listed heavily to one side.

“Fuck! Who was that! Get me a casualty report NOW!” The commander ordered.

McCaster rushed to do as told, but was having trouble with all the comms interference. As they watched, little pods began breaking away from the ailing ship, most of them coming from the breached decks as panicked crew-members fled to the escape pods.

One escape pod was completely annihilated by a passing piece of debris, popping like a popcorn kernel does in a microwave, ripping open and sending bodies flipping like rag-dolls out into the vastness.

McCaster grew sick just thinking about what dying like that would have felt like. Freezing to death as all the glasses slowly boiled from your blood. He hoped that they were all to dead to think about what had happened to them.

“That was the UNSC Esperanca, commander. Captain Silva is not responding, and all coms to the bridge crew have been cut. GA rescue teams are being dispatched casualties are estimated in the hundreds.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” The man continued to cure wildly, “Radio in to the harbinger.”

“Yes sir.”

He connected the coms link so the commander could speak freely, though he was rather concerned about the man’s ability to fly and talk at the same time.

They rotated to the side, executing a tight barrel roll and dive taking them out of the line of a fast moving group of space debris which threatened to pop their ship like a can opener and expose the two of them like a couple of sardines.

“Commander.”

“Tell me what’s happening.”

“The burg brought in a second surprise fleet to back up their first. The Burg command ship has landed planetside just outside the central city, and ground troops are making a march for the capital city. Captain Silva is in contact, and unharmed, but the ship is heavily damaged. Casualty report is up to 220 from all ships 150 of those being from Silva’s crew, and the death toll is rising as we speak. Sunny has dispatched marine drop troops to deal with the burg invasion of the capital city.”

The commander had to stop talking for a moment, as a burg vessel dropped in behind them. The commander cursed again rather violently before bringing them straight towards the debris field. McCaster hopped on the under-wing guns shooting away any piece of debris that he could manage flying as fast as they were.

Again, the commander proved his metal, cutting through the field with only inches to spare leaving the burg drone in pieces behind them.

A couple more GA ships popped into view.

“Get silva to fall back, have some of the GA vessels form a protective perimeter around their ship, I don’t want anyone else getting killed, have them fall back and wait for assistance. Do we know of any GA ship that is capable of multiple microwarps without overheating?’”

There was a long pause.

“Sunny says that the Rundi ships should be able to do at least ten before it becomes dangerous.”

“Alright, new plan, have the rundi ships alternate micro warp behind the enemy fleet, have them take a shot and then warp out, then have the next ship do the same but in a different location. Aim for one ship at a time if you can, or be random if it looks like they are catching on. Pair each of our fleet with one of the Rundi vessels and have them communicate with each other about the micro warps. Let's see if we can’t flank them. Try to hit them at the same time then use the rundi shields to block our unshielded vessels between bouts.”

“Yes sir.”

“And lieutenant?”

“Yes sir?”

“Can you hold the ship or do you need me to return.”

“I have it commander, you do what you need to do.”

“I have a better eye from up here.”

“Good, sir.”

The commander kept the line open listening to the general chatter of the battle. While they watched, the Rundi ships fell back into formation with the four remaining human vessels, while the tesraki ships pulled back to protect the limping remains of the Esperanca.

A body rolled past their window, face pale and cold in death.

The commander kept his cool though.

The burg Ships were still firing, but now the Rundi ships were taking the brunt of the attacks, their superior shields lighting up in shades of blue.

One of the ships vanished leaving it’s human counterpart open to fire, however as the Burg were gearing up to take a shot, the rundi ship appeared behind them. There was a pause as the ships seemed to be deciding what to do, during which time both the human and the rundi ships took that moment to take their shots.

It was a dangerous maneuver, for if either one of them missed the could potentially send their ordinance into friendly territory, but it worked for the time being, and an explosion rocked the leftmost side of the burg hull ripping three decks open to bare space.

Bodies were sucked out into the void and tossed like ragdolls into floating objects.

The rundi ship vanished and appeared back before the human ship just as the burg began to fire.

The rundi shields were not looking great, but another pairing was ready to dot the same taking the focus off the first ship for the time being.

“Commander, Commander.” The garbled voice rushed over the radio marred by the sound of explosions in the background, and shouting.

“Go.” The man ordered taking the ship into a steep incline locking onto one of the burg drones and erupting it into a ball of flame.

“Sir, This is Ramirez with the ground forces. The burg have deployed ground transport and artillery units and are advancing towards the city. We have made a protective perimeter, but our weapons arent going to do shit against those ground units.”

“Sending in air support. Hold tight Ramirez.”

He turned back to the coms and requested bombers to be deployed to the surface.

“What do they want with the capital city?”

McCaster wasn’t exactly aware of alien politics and so couldn't help but asking.

“The Gromm homeworld is the center hub for trade in the galaxy. Each of the home worlds has a warp disruptor that doesn't allow direct warp into a solar system unless authorized. The Gromm capital city holds the coding software that allows this to work, considering it needs access to almost all planets in Andromeda and, by extension, earth as well. We cannot let them get access to that information or else they can easily move in for an attack on any one of us. The rundi homeworld, the Tesraki, humans.” 

They cut around the side of the burg ship.

And the commander kept an eye out in the field for something he knew he wasn’t likely to spot.

“Conn, Conn, are you there, can you hear me.”

There was silence, and for a moment the commander thought the worst.

“Right here captain, though I would appreciate if you told everyone to stop blowing each other up for a few minutes. That would make my life much easier.”

He ignored the snark for the moment, “Have you managed to get close enough to hear them?”

“Mmm only close enough to get general impression. If I get any closer, I run the risk of getting exploded, and right now I am already at risk of being chopped in half, which I am not highly appreciative of.”

“What if we came, picked you up, and flew you past. Could you do it then?”

“I could probably manage that. Sending you my location now.”

McCaster hadn’t heard the conversation for obvious reasons, and so was confused as the commander pealed away from formation and started heading straight towards the burg fleet line. 

Luckily the larger ships didn’t consider one lone jet enough of a worry to actually fire at them, though the burg drones were eager for blood. The commander pulled some risky maneuvers, cutting through fields of metal, and maneuvering two drones to crash into each other.

He ordered McCaster to follow a beacon into the debris field, and with his help they were able to maneuver further in, slowing greatly and hiding their signature as they turned off the engine and coasted for a bit. They were going very slowly now, cutting through an eerie junkyard of mingled bodies and the skeletal remains of ships. A rundi corpse gently bounced off their right wind and went tumbling away into nothing.

McCaster was looking around for the beacon assuming they were after a ship of some sort, when there was a clatter atop the canopy. Of course there was no sound from outside, but the reverberations through the air on the inside of the canopy made him look up.

And immediately almost peed himself.

The black eyed- leering face seemed quite amused with his near panic attack, white ribbons billowing out from behind it, as it settled itself into place at the back of the canopy.

“Sorry McCaster, forgot to mention we were coming to pick up a friend.”

“Friend my ass.” he muttered under his breath, looking back at the still leering face.

They began a slow creep towards the burg ship, keeping low and below their enemy.

It was a strange angle , hard to remember that in space there was movement in almost any direction. Generally speaking all of the burg and GA ships were on the same grid level, so their approaching presence was hardly noticed. Burg drones hung about the outside of the enemy ship so this was about as close as they planned on getting.

“How about here, this is about as close as I can get you.”

“Mmmm, it may take a few minutes, there is only so much I can do between bouts of screaming. 

Their faces were lit a moment later by the fiery glow of another explosion, silent and dead in the vacuum of space.

Everything around them was eerily quiet.

“Well, shit.”

“Don’t give me that conn, tell me what’s going on now!”

“Might want to hurry up commander. This little space battle is simply a diversion for the real plan happening on the surface. Those artillery guns aren't just artillery. Some of the rounds have data nets on them, and may be able to hijack the pertinent information without them even getting into the city, if they land one close enough. I would wager to say you have ten minutes.”

“Shit!” 

What followed was sincerely the most insane and terrifying thing that McCaster had ever experienced. The commander flew like a madman, cutting duck rolling and spinning through the debris field with drones hot on their heels all while on the radio yelling for all air units to target their fire on the burg artillery. He probably would have ordered all the ships to break off and use orbital targeting as well, but they were too close to the burg city for that, and too close to the marines who were valiantly impending the burg efforts.

Luckily for them a single one of those data rounds would have to hit an exact target in order to work, but the closer they got the more likely  it would become.

Jets whizzed around the city shooting ordinance from the sky when they could.

The data rounds had to be slow in order to remain in tact for the flight down, so that was one advantage they had. 

All remaining bombers and jets were ordered down to earth, with the burg drones peeling off behind them.

The freaky alien, Conn let them go just as they were about to fall into orbit ribbons billowing out about him as they vanished into the distance rocketing towards earth at fenominal speeds. The fire licked up at their wings again, but this time McCaster knew what to expect.

He moved himself to the under-wing guns determined to help in any way he could.

They were approaching the ground fast, and an entire formation of aircraft rolled in one mass dogfight over the scene below as burg drones fought aggressively to protect their precious artillery units. The Burg command ship lobbed Anti-Air missiles into the sky causing one darkfire to erupt into a ball of flame.

McCaster though they were going to join another formation of jets heading towards the artillery units, but was surprised when the Commander continued their dive the ground approaching at a stunning speed.

This time he held himself conscious as the commander pulled out of the dive, at the last possible moment. They were going so low, that the power of their engines kicked up a trail of dust behind them knocking burg soldiers to the ground as they marched.

AA guns were useless against them as they careened towards the artillery line.

The wing guns fired repeatedly tearing up the ground, and sending burg bodies erupting in all directions.

The commander narrowed his sights, locking on, and then fired, before peeling off and pulling up. The right wing of their jet was so close to the ground, it clipped the top of a tall shrub sending plant bits in all directions, though it made no difference as the shrub erupted into momentary flames as the explosion reached it.

McCaster tried not to think about how close they had come to dying, and was reminded seconds later when a burg drone, which had been following them from their dive, rammed into the ground exploding just as violently and taking out a second piece of friendly artillery.

Burg bodies were thrown to the ground in the ensuing explosion, remaining cold and still.

One of their bombers was clipped hard in the wing, and went down with an explosion.

A white parachute opened after a moment only to be torn up by an incoming burg drone, with no qualms about shooting a man while he was defenseless.

The commander made sure it was the last move that drone ever took. 

Back towards the city more troop transports were dropping soldiers onto the front line. Marines, rundi and Tesraki soldiers were spilling from open pods setting up a defense line around the city. The Gromm were doing what they could to assist though their military technology was rudimentary at best.

“They almost have the nexus back online!”

As it turned out the Burg were well aware of this fact, at at least twenty incoming burg ships cut into atmosphere and were forced to descend to land, creating a defensible position around the burg command ship just as  as the nexus went back up

A large, translucent amber dome erupted about the ground where the burg ships were stationed locking them into place with their own shields.

The drones fell back to defend the position, leaving the exhausted pilots to circle around the perimeter unable to get close to the well defended position.

On rundi pilot made the mistake and was immediately shot from the sky.

Overhead, friendly forces had made a defensive perimeter of the Nexus and the remaining burg ships had fallen back leading everything to a standstill. They could do nothing about the burg ships already on the planet for fear of hurting the civilian population.

As for now, the battle had come to its conclusion as a draw, though the war was far form over. 

[scorpio-skies]

OC as a Companion Meme!

NAME: Nora Hart

FOUND: Near Sunshine Tidings Co-Op, fighting raiders at the church. 

COMPANION PERK: The Bear Necessities - Acquire Honey the yao guai as an extra companion.  

ROMANCEABLE:  Yes 

(I was tagged for this a very long time ago, but always wanted to do it! Tagging: @eluvisen​ @mrninjapineapple​ @ariejul​ @sociallyacceptablemadness​ @lothrilzul​ @slothssassin​ @mars-colony​ @lookbluesoup​ @tarberrymentats​ @leporidaefluff​ @charomiami​ @beckiboos​ and anybody who’d like to do it! If you’ve done it before feel free to rb your original unless you wanna make another for a diff OC >:3c but no pressure at all!)

 WEAPON OF CHOICE: 

Lucky (.357 magnum revolver from FNV ;p)

Combat rifle

 I THINK WE SHOULD TRAVEL TOGETHER:

“Then let’s hit the road!” 

“Time for another adventure? Count me in!”

“You can count on me, boss!” 

“Let’s get going, then!”

“The road’s a-calling.” 

“Sounds like fun!” 

(Romanced) “Good! I was hoping for some quality time with you.”

(Romanced) “I’d follow you anywhere, love. Lead on.”

 USE MELEE:

“This is too close for comfort!” 

“Let’s hit ‘em hard and fast!” 

“Just go down already!” 

“It’s about to get messy!”

 USE RANGED:

“I’ve got your back!” 

“They won’t get past me.” 

“Nothing like a long-distance relationship!” 

“Got it!”

 OPEN INVENTORY:

“That’ll be twenty-caps. Just kidding!” 

“What do you need?” 

“Here’s what I’ve got!” 

“Sure thing -- just don’t mess up my pack.”

(Romanced) “Oh? Did you get me something nice?”

 IF OVERENCUMBERED:

“See, this is why caravans have carts and brahmin.” 

“Shame Honey isn’t here to carry that for us… / Why don’t you see if Honey’ll carry it for ya?” 

“I mean, I love junk as much as the next gal but... don’t you think you’re overdoing it?” 

“Let me carry some of that for you.” 

“You’re gonna hurt your back like that!” 

“Your pack’s gonna pop…”

 STAY CLOSE:

“I’m with you.” 

“Right beside you.” 

“I’m here.”

 KEEP DISTANCE:

“Gotcha.” 

“You got it.”

"Sure."

STEALTH:

"The sneaky way, huh?" 

"Like shadows." 

"Alright, let's go quietly." 

"They won't know what hit em." 

 BACKUP:

“Oh! Sorry."

"I'll give you some space." 

“Sorry -- don’t mean to be stepping on your toes!”

BE PASSIVE:

“Always worth negotiating!” 

“I definitely prefer talking to violence.” 

“Sounds good to me, boss. I’d prefer not to shoot if I don’t have to.” 

“Turn on the charm!” 

“You’re quite the people person.” 

“You’re a real charmer, ain’t ya?” 

(Romanced) “That’s my hero!”

 BE AGGRESSIVE:

“Just say the word, boss.” 

“I’m ready.” 

“Guess it’s too late to ask them nicely?” 

“Alright. Let’s bring the mayhem.”

“Well, if we can’t talk them down…”

 USE STIMPAK:

“Ow… thanks, boss.” 

“Ugh, needles… remind me not to get shot again.” 

“Phew that’s better.” 

“Thanks -- I’m good.”

“Back to it!”

WAIT HERE:

“Don’t go too far, okay?” 

“Alright. Hurry back before I get too bored though, yeah?” 

“Okay, I’ll be here.”

FOLLOW ME:

“Welcome back, boss!” 

“Alright, let’s get back to it!” 

“Lead on, boss. I’m with you.” 

“Glad to have you back.”

LOVER’S EMBRACE: 

“That was a good roll in the hay…” 

“Jackpot!” 

“Now that’s what I call a rodeo...”

“Morning beautiful/handsome!” 

“Could stay all day in bed with you…” 

“I love you. I want you to know that.” 

 DISMISSED:

“Well, you know where I’ll be.” 

“Alright then. Take care of yourself, boss. You know where to find me.” 

“Okay then. I’ll tell Kammie and Honey you said hi.” 

“Alright -- you be careful, though. You hear me?” 

“Time to head home then -- come and see us soon, yeah?” 

(Romanced) “If that’s what you want, just… come home safe to me, alright? I’ll be waiting for you.”

 ENEMIES (LONG RANGE)

“Today is not your lucky day!”

“You’re gonna regret this!” 

“Shouldn’t pick fights ya can’t finish!”

“Hope you’ve made your peace!”

(Raiders) “You’re not gotta loot us!”

(Raiders) “You’re not hurting anybody else!” 

(Raiders) “Time to answer for your crimes!” 

(Gunners) “Let’s teach these thugs how to shoot!” 

(Gunners) “I ain’t losing to the likes of you!” 

(Gunners) “Hope those caps were worth your life!”

(Insects) “Ugh. These things creep me out!”

(Insects) “Buzz off!” 

(Synths/Robots) “I’m gonna sell you for scrap!”

(Synths/Robots) “Time to shut you down permanently!”

(Super mutants) “Why are they always so big and angry?”

(Super mutants) “We’re not on the menu!” 

(Super mutants) “I’m not going in some meat bag!”

(Behemoth/Mirelurk Queen) “Holy shit!” 

(Behemoth/Mirelurk Queen) “The bigger they are, the harder they’ll fall!”

(Feral ghouls) “These things creep me out.”

(Feral ghouls) “Boss! Ferals!” 

(Deathclaw) “Deathclaw! Run!” 

(Deathclaw) “Deathclaw! Look out!” 

(Yao Guai) “Don’t tell Honey!” 

(Yao Guai) “I’m sorry bear!” 

(Dogs/Radstags/Brahmiluff) “God I hate having to do that.” 

(Dogs/Radstags/Brahmiluff/mole rats) “I’m sorry -- you left me no choice.”

(Critical Kill) “WOO! Nice shot!”

(Critical Kill) “Lucky hit!”

ENEMIES (CLOSE RANGE)

“Bring it!” 

“Let’s dance!” 

“Look out!” 

“They’re on us!”

(Insects) “Ugh -- I hate these things!”

(Insects) “Disgusting!” 

(Insects) “You’re really starting to bug me!”

(Synths/Robots) “Where’s the off switch?”

(Children of Atom) “Hope you said your prayers!”

(Super mutants) “Wow, you’re a big fella.” 

(Super mutants) “What do these guys eat? No -- don’t answer that.”

(Super mutants) “I am not a snack!”

(Feral ghouls) “Get away from me!” 

(Feral ghouls) “Shit!”

(Feral ghouls) “Way too close!”

(Mirelurks) “These guys sure are crabby!”

 WHEN ENTERING:

GOODNEIGHBOR

“Well, this looks like a good place to get mugged.” 

“Ah, Goodneighbor. Crime capital of the Commonwealth -- watch your back here, boss.” 

“Yeah, Goodneighbor has walls but it’s got plenty of cut-throats within them. We’ll need to watch our backs. Also our caps.” 

“Oh, boss. You always take me to the ‘nicest’ places.” 

“Is everyone’s staring at us, or is that just me?”

 DIAMOND CITY

“So, this is the great green jewel of the Commonwealth… I’ll have to get Kammie a souvenir.”

“Hey -- mind if we stop by the market? I wanna see if I can wrangle us some deals.”

“Noodles? Served by a robot? Kammie is not gonna believe this...”

“Do you think these people ever get tired of looking at the walls?” 

“So this is the infamous Dugout… You hear a lot about this place in the caravans. Home of Bobrov’s Best! Fancy getting a bottle?”

 BUNKER HILL

“These guys are miserly, even by trader standards. If you need anything, let me do the haggling, yeah?” 

“Bunker Hill’s a popular stop for caravans. Me and Kammie were planning on stopping here, but I’m not sure they’d let Honey through the gate…”

“I’ve been here before, you know. But it was a long time ago.”

 BOSTON AIRPORT

“Do you really think those wrecks could fly? I can’t even imagine what that’d be like…” 

“If we could still fly like that… think of all of the places we could see.”

(After Reveille has triggered) “Wow… Just look at that airship!”

(After Reveille has triggered) “Looks like the Brotherhood mean business. Maybe we should move on?”

(After Reveille has triggered) “I don’t really wanna tangle with the Brotherhood, boss. They’re bad for business.”

 THE PRYDWEN

“Wow -- just look at that view!”

“This ship is amazing -- and look at all the power armour!”

“Hey, do you think they’ll sell me a suit if I ask nicely?”

 THE CASTLE

“The Castle must have been a sight to see when the Minutemen were in charge. Shame about the current tenants...”

(After Castle is restored) “It’s great to see the Castle back in Minutemen hands!”

(After Castle is restored) “The Minutemen have done a great job fixing the Castle up again!.”

(After Castle is restored) “I bet the sunrise is something to see from those walls...” 

(After Castle is restored) “Me and Kammie were talking about whether we should join the Minutemen or not… do you think they accept bears?”

 QUINCY

(Before clearing Quincy) “I heard about what the Gunners did to Quincy… nothing but a bunch of murderers.” 

(Before clearing Quincy) “Look at what they did here… The Gunners are no better than raiders.”

(After clearing Quincy) “I really hope Quincy can rebuild and recover someday.” 

 THE GLOWING SEA

“So… which of us will turn ghoul first?” 

“Is there a way to turn the Geiger counter off? It keeps reminding me we’re dying and I don’t like it.” 

“This place… it’s like we’re in a nightmare.” 

“I keep seeing things moving in the fog…” 

“Do you think they really knew what they were doing when they dropped the bombs?”

“We’ll have to drink a few pints of radaway after this…”

 CONCORD

“That vertibird makes an interesting installation...”

 LEXINGTON

“I heard Lexington is overrun with ferals… are you sure we can’t go around?” 

“I feel like there’s something around every corner...”

“Why can’t the ferals just eat the raiders?”

 SALEM

“This place belongs in a horror comic.”

(Devil’s Due) “I don’t like the sound of that...” 

(Return egg to the deathclaw) “I’m proud of you, boss. Those deathclaws deserved better… now, let’s back away nice and slow and leave them to it, yeah?”

 LYNN WOODS

“Those claw marks on the rock… Deathclaw territory. Stay alert.”

“Try not to make too much noise. If a deathclaw comes after us, I don’t know if we can stop it.”

 NAHANT

“Keep an eye out. There’s a floating raider fortress nearby.”

“Caravans have disappeared around here, and the survivor stories...? They’re not good.” 

“I don’t think we’ll find anything other than crabs and scrap around here.”

“I hope there’s no big mirelurks around…” 

“What kind of maniac wants to live out by the sea, anyway? You don’t know what’s out there!”

 CAMBRIDGE

“That police station’s well fortified -- here’s hoping they’re friendly.” 

“Why is this place so quiet…? I don’t like it.” 

“I thought raiders had taken over the place… not that I’m complaining.” 

“Oh. Ghouls. God I wish it was raiders.”

 SANCTUARY

“So this is your old home, huh?” 

“We should set up a supply line between here and Sunshine! We can help each other out.” 

“This is quite a nice place!” 

 SUNSHINE TIDING’S CO-OP 

“Home sweet home!” 

“You think we can stop by for some of Kamal’s lasagne?” 

“I’ll check in on the animals while we’re here.” 

(when greeted by Honey) “Hey there, Honey bear! How’re you today?” 

“I’m gonna go check on Kammie.”

“Home is where you keep your bear!”

 AGGRESSION: not aggressive/aggressive/very aggressive/frenzied

CONFIDENCE: cowardly/cautious/average/brave/foolhardy

ASSISTANCE: helps nobody/helps allies/helps friends and allies

 LOSE AS COMPANION PERMANENTLY:

Too many dislikes

Siding with the Institute 

Choosing Institute option in personal quest 

Destroying the Railroad

Selling Billy to slavers in Kid in a Fridge

Killing Kent Connolly in The Silver Shroud

Siding with Covenant

Destroying Acadia 

Destroying Far Harbor 

Siding with the Nuka-World raiders

Raiding the Commonwealth for Nuka-World 

Bringing X6-88 near (will turn Nora, Honey and Kamal hostile) 

Attacking Honey or Kamal 

Killing Phyllis Daily 

Killing Paladin Danse in Blind Betrayal

Killing Jules in the random synth encounter

 PERSONAL MISSION: Override 

Nora can be found fighting raiders at the church near Sunshine Tidings Co-op with Kamal and Honey. After the player helps them dispatch the raiders, they introduce themselves as traders seeking a safe place to set up their business. If the player has unlocked Sunshine as a settlement, they can send them there. This unlocks Nora as a companion, and Kamal as a trader. Honey operates as a guard-bear. 

After the player unlocks the Institute for the first time, they return to Sunshine to find the settlement under attack by coursers. 

Once the coursers are dispatched, Nora and Kamal have a panicked discussion where Nora worries that the Institute is on to her. Nora and Kamal lead the player to a quiet area of Sunshine and Nora tells Kamal that she trusts the player. 

She then confesses that she’s an escaped synth, and that the coursers were after her. She doesn’t know much about her past other than her time with the caravans, but over the years has been the victim of attempted reclamation by coursers. She and Kamal returned to the Commonwealth to try and learn how to stop it. 

If the player has not taken Nora to the Railroad or discovered them, Nora and Kamal mention that they’ve heard of the Railroad and were hoping they could help them. The player can then offer to find out more. 

If the player has taken Nora to the Railroad before, she will ask the player if they can convince the Railroad to help her. 

If the player goes to the Railroad, Tinker Tom provides a holotape. If the player uses it in the Synth Retention Bureau, it wipes Nora’s record from the system as well as some other escaped synths. 

After the player wipes Nora from the Institute’s records they can assure her that she’s safe and doesn’t have to run anymore. Nora and Kamal are overjoyed that they don’t have to keep running, and they agree that they want to set up a ranch at Sunshine. 

Nora will mention that Honey’s overjoyed too and has taken a liking to the player. The player has then unlocked Nora’s perk, The Bear Necessities, and Honey shall accompany Nora when the player character recruits her. 

Honey can be ordered much the same as Dogmeat, but she has a greater carry capacity, health and damage. She can be told to stay at Sunshine. 

The player can, however, choose to instead inform Ayo of Nora’s location. 

When the player next returns to Sunshine, they’ll find Kamal waiting for them with Honey. He’s injured and frantic, informing the player that coursers took Nora. If the player admits they handed Nora over, both Kamal and Honey will turn hostile.

 If the player feigns innocence, Kamal will insist he knows something’s not right. 

If the player tries to convince Kamal Nora’s gone forever, he’ll swear to keep looking for her no matter what it takes. 

When the player returns to the Institute, Nora can be found but renamed with her synth designation, C9-42. She reacts to the player character with the same deference as other synths, but knows them only as Father’s parent. Although she has the same bland smile as other synths when talking to the player, outside of conversation she will have a sad expression.

[bitch-i-migth-be]

Crash Course | Chapter 05: Priorities

Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Batman,  

Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton,  Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton & Vlad Masters, Ember Mclain & Kitty, Danny Fenton & Cujo

Characters: Danny Fenton, Jazz Fenton,Cujo, Ember Mclain, Kitty, Lunch Lady, Younblood, Skulker, Johnny 13, Random ghosties mentions *boo*, Vlad Fucking Masters Everyone

Words: 6′582

Tags: BAMF Danny, Ghost zone shenanigans, Sibling bonding, Shenanigans, Swearing, Family dinners, Heteronormativity?? The fuck is that, Danny in Cosplay, Ghost King Danny, 

Summary: He swore his sister was trying to make him go into cardiac arrest - considering his halfa status that was quite the accomplishment-

But there was no other explanation to his sister’s stubbornness, and if he knew her at all there was just no talking her down from interning at goddam Arkham.

A/N: 

Some of you *coming here for the fights, angst and The Drama™ that a DP & DC crossover inevitably involves*: “Hey-”

Me *Trying to write fluffy shit to liberate and soothe my deranged soul from this mortal prison*: “S'up?”

-.-.-.-

This is so long compared to the other chapters. Whhy is this so loooong. UGH- It’s almost double the length of the first four chapters together? I thought it was less?  This would have been bigger if I hadn’t posted chapter 4 first? What is happening

THIS IS ON AO3, IF ANYONE WOULD PREFER TO READ THERE. LOVE COMmENTs  so if u have anything to say IwillBeReallyHappyYesThankU

CHAPTERS: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7

-.-.-.-

Phantom was currently drifting on the Ghost zone trying to hunt down his next unsuspecting victim among the ghosts.

‘Oh, how the turn tables.’ the halfa chuckled.

Jazz had kept her word and after pulling an all-nighter they had come up with some interesting options. 

Now he just needed to pull them off. 

The sound of growling at his back made him freeze on his tracks. He turned around to look at the source of the sound. 

“Oh,” Well, this certainly had not been on the plans. To stumble upon such a mighty beast this early on. He smiled. “Hi, Cujo!”

The happy barking that followed the greeting was rather endearing, normally whenever he crossed paths with the pup he would spare some time to play with him and teach him some tricks. After some months of the pup following him around and of the halfa trying to deny to anyone who would listen, especially Val, that the dog was not really his, Danny finally gave up and got him a new collar. 

The little guy was quite spoiled nowadays.

Sadly, right now he was on a timeline.

“Sorry, bud. No playtime today, I’m on a rather tight schedule.” Phantom cooed softly, reaching down to briefly scratch behind the pup’s ears. 

Cujo sat on his hind legs, paws in the air and tail wagging, effectively cutting off his path.

Not like he couldn’t try to fly around, mind you, but with a dog that could go gigamax on your ass, it was better to just talk your way out. 

Just when Danny was about to open his mouth the pup upgraded to excited wiggling on the non-existent floor of the zone.

The halfa sighed to himself. Fond smile growing without his explicit permission. 

“Cujo-” he tried, just to be interrupted again. “And there goes the whining, Oh. My. God.”

The boy covered his face with his hands, not daring to look until the sounds stopped completely. After a moment, he finally took a peek from between his fingers. 

Sad, puppy dog eyes were looking up at him, small little whine making a comeback.

Fucking shit.

He was going soft. 

-.-.-.-

“Match head.” 

The sound of the nickname momentarily dragged Ember’s full attention from the tuning of her guitar to the new arrival. 

“Baby Pop.” She took notice of the green puppy posing as a hat on the white-haired boy’s head and snorted, eyes going back to the guitar. “Blessed the eyes. You going Cruella on us now or what?” 

“Please,” The boy jested. “Like we need a remasterized skulker around here.”

“At least the woman did it for fashion.” She hummed. “You would make a horrid carpet, you are too fucking skinny.” 

“Excuse you, bitch.” Phantom shot back, irritation clear on his voice. Ember rejoiced on it. 

She faked a gasp,“ Are you saying you want Skulky to make you into a rug, baby pop? Scandalous!”

“T-that’s not-!” the halfa spluttered before Ember cut him off. 

“What do you want, cupcake? It’s not like you to venture so far into the Zone willingly unless you are looking for blood.” She questioned, carefully putting her guitar back in the case. 

The boy huffed.

“Whatever, Ashley,” he grumbled under his breath. “I think it’s time we revisited the terms of our agreement ” The boy sat by her side nonchalantly, not noticing — or outright ignoring — the sudden rise in temperature as the girl’s blue hair flared violently, a deep frown marring her face. 

Cujo did notice. But the little doggo was more distracted with the movement of the pretty light-emitting hair, and the fluffiness of the hair on his current method of transportation to register the imminent danger to his fur. 

Priorities.

“Revisit? You want to fucking revisit?” She growled. “I will tell you what you can fucking revisit-!”

The halfa just laughed at her reaction. Ember’s hair doubled in length. The laughter died off.

Her hand was getting dangerously close to her guitar.

Danny swallowed hard, deciding to just get on with it before Ember tried to use the instrument as a wanna-be war hammer again.

“It’s quite the contrary, my dear flaming hot,” he rushed to appease her “I want to expand on it,” he said, throwing in a sickeningly sweet smile for good measure.

He hoped it was enough to regain her attention in a more positive light. He didn’t want to explain to Jazz why his ghost form’s eyebrows were singed off. Again. He didn’t have time for more lectures. Thank you.

Luckily, If the hair-inferno reducing to a cheerfully blazing bonfire and the growing smirk taking over ember’s face was any indication he had succeeded. Cujo whined for the loss. Danny wanted to squeal for the win.

He did not. But it was a very close thing.

“Oh ho, now we are talking, baby pop.”

-.-.-.-

The window of opportunity to pull this off was very small. He had to take into account the amount of time that had passed since the last fight, the reason for the aforementioned fight, and how much of an emotional investment the objective really held for it to be a proper detonator. 

This operation required surgical precision, which meant a lot of preparation. And research.      

It was a good thing it happened so often. 

“I will be direct with you, sister,” Phantom spilled, sprawling himself on the free seat on Kitty’s right side. “your bitch boyfriend doesn’t know the jackpot he hit with you and that just ain’t gonna fly.”  

knowing where Kitty would end up after a fight with Johnny was not a problem. tracking down which bar she was going to be crashing for the aftermath was the real problem. 

Danny hadn’t even known there were bars in this place.

In the last months of his treaty with one Ember Mclain, he had learned plenty of- interesting facts about the Zone that he would prefer to forget. Not that he really had an option, Jazz had taught him early on that information on the enemy — and sometimes on friends —was a valuable asset to ensure victory. 

So he would play dumb about knowing these things. But he would not forget about them.

Couldn’t afford to forget them.

If the Ghost Writer pulled another surprise quiz on him and the answers were less than perfect the man would riot. 

The halfa stretched out a hand to take a menu and leaned his elbows against the bar-top. Cujo chose that moment to leave his position on the teen’s head to sit next to his forearm so he could peer at the menu too.   

He skipped the drinks section and went straight to the food. There was no way he was getting any alcohol. 

Don’t get him wrong. They would serve him whatever the fuck he wanted if he asked for it on the zone, but the teen had tasted it before and hated it with a passion. Fuck the peer pressure. Never again. Good for when you are sad? Bitch, just get ice cream. Maybe he should have asked Ember for Kitty’s favorite flavor and save himself the hassle. Oh well.

Too late now.

Danny chose his order but decided to risk a look at the drinks for non-alcoholic options while he waited for Cujo to paw at whatever he wanted.

Kitty, who had been spluttering and getting progressively redder since he made his entrance, was about to smack him upside the head because even if it was true the brat shouldn’t just go saying it like it was any of his goddamn business. They were in the middle of a crowded bar, these people didn’t need any more confirmation for her relationship problems. Couldn’t she keep some dignity?  

Before her hand could connect though, a pair of arms surrounded her, bringing her firmly into a backward hug against a warm chest. 

A very familiar warm chest. 

Startled, she looked up to stare into fiery green eyes.

“Cool it kitten,” Ember purred, clad in a leather jacket that was, most likely, scammed off some unfortunate soul. Still. She looked damn good. Kitty got so tongue-tied she couldn’t manage to even begin to stutter a response, let alone a protest. Danny took advantage of Ember’s intervention to finally place his first order. “Babycakes is right.” Ember continued, effectively cutting off all the air from kitty’s sails once and for all, because really, Ember was her best friend and if there was anyone who knew exactly how many times Johnny and Kitty had fought it was the blue-haired girl.

Kitty let out a defeated sigh and wiggled a little on the embrace to settle into it properly. Might as well get the best out of this- 

“Oh, they have frappes!” Phantom trilled in awe. Kitty twitched. 

If only Phantom would go away. Ugh. She couldn’t deal with males right now.

“Can’t you leave that thing alone?” Hissed Ember, who had seen the teen open the conversation with her kitty kat just to completely ignore her right after in favor of the menu. The bitch boy needed to focus, they were supposed to be on a mission here. 

“Hey! You were the one calling me skinny earlier!” Remarked the teen, only to get a raised eyebrow back from the rockstar.

“As if a single frappe is going to fix that. Give me that!” She sneered at him and snatched the laminated paper from his hands. Phantom tried to snatch it back and failed. So he resorted to pouting and tried to give her the sad puppy dog eyes. 

It wasn’t going to work with the matchstick, he knew, but it was good practice.

To pull this shit with Ember you had to be either Kitty, Youngblood, or an honest-to-god puppy. He was not risking ticking off Kitty more than he already had. Youngblood was not here — for obvious reasons—. Cujo was here and didn’t hate him, but sadly the dog wouldn’t be any help right now. 

The pup was already accepting belly rubs from the waiters and completely ignoring the world around him. 

Again: Priorities.      

So really, Danny was just doing this for the sake of being extra. 

While Ember and Danny continued with their dramatic standoff, the other girl blinked rapidly and turned her head towards Phantom.

“Oh” Kitty’s bad mood banished almost magically in favor of curiously peering at the teen’s figure. Danny fidgeted on his seat apprehensively.“I hadn’t noticed. You are really lean.” Ember snickered. Cujo — coming back from the belly rub induced coma — barked. Phantom sighed and just accepted defeat. 

“I suppose that’s somewhat better-” He grumbled under his breath.

Kitty allowed a tiny smile to escape from her lips but shook herself slightly to get back on track. “What are you two even doing here anyway?” She asked, alternating glances between them. 

“Pretty sure you already know,” Ember answered, rubbing her cheek against kitty’s green hair and sending A Look at Phantom. “Because someone is not subtle. at. all.” She ended with a hiss and a flare of her hair. Kitty winced lightly at the confirmation. Phantom rolled his eyes.

“Oh, Cry me a table, matchstick.”

Kitty knew alright. Ember made it her personal business to get involved in whatever petty fight Kitty got into, more so if it was about Johnny.  Phantom getting involved in the aftermath — and not the fight itself — was new though.“It was just another stupid fight. And- You know, his obsession-”

“Nope. That’s no excuse, Kath.” Ember cut her off. “If you can work around yours for him, then so can he.”

“You can do better.” The teenage boy agreed while Ember continued squeezing her. 

“What do you suggest then?”

Phantom and Ember exchanged a look, mirth flashing in their glowing green eyes and matching smirks growing bold, they turned to look back at Kitty. The green-haired girl gulped down her growing unease. In her experience, these two banding together was never a good thing for anyone.  

“We are here to talk to you about the Remember Initiative.”

-.-.-.-

“Such a skinny boy!”

“Hey! I’m just lean-!” Phantom let out a yelp as he ducked under yet another juice box “What’s with you people and your obsession with my weight-! Ugh! If you would just listen-! Wait. Is that apple grape?” He said the last part in a hushed rush, looking in silent awe at one of the little juice boxes she was about to throw his way.

The Lunch Lady preened.

“Boxy got them for me! 100% Juice Fruit guaranteed!” She was radiating smugness about these facts.

“Oh my gosh- Wait! NO. That’s not what I came here for!” Danny managed to shake himself out of his stupor just in time to keep evading the Lady’s attempts to shove a spoon full of food down his throat while he was distracted with the juice.  

The last time she had gotten a hold of him he had ended up feeling like one of his mom’s thanksgiving turkeys. Danny gulped. Best to just go for it and hope for the best. 

“Did you know that there are 37.2 million people living in food-insecure households?!”

The screamed question froze the lunch lady on her tracks. At the look of horror his words achieved, he decided to keep going.   

“1 in 6 American children don’t even know where their next meal is coming from.”

The lunch lady let out a horrified gasp, “Those poor children-!”

And with that, the woman exchanged her attempts at stuffing him for furious-but-mournful whisperings. She looked really constipated about this new information. Danny almost felt sad. Almost. 

“There is a way to help, you know?”

The lunch lady’s head snapped back towards the half-ghost, eyes narrowed in a glare. Not the usual I’m-going-to-choke-your-skinny-ass-in-food glare, but an I’m-paying-attention-to-your-skinny-ass glare. 

Danny refrained from openly cheering after sensing his upcoming victory. Better not chance it.  

“Have you ever heard about old San Nicolas?”

-.-.-.-

“You know,” Danny murmured, slurping noisily from one of his juice boxes as he watched from a safe distance how Johnny and Skulker got wrecked by a pair of cute-murderous-girls, “I wasn’t expecting that to work so well.”

His only response was a pair of little barks from the green puppy that was happily squirming on his lap.

The boy paused on his watch to look down at Cujo. Danny extended one of his hands towards the puppy to carefully try to swat at him. The cub rolled onto his back and trapped Danny’s upcoming fingers between his paws with a playful growl, giving little nibbles to the appendage.   

He couldn’t help the giddy giggles that escaped him. 

Those little paws were precious.

At the sound of high pitched screams Danny’s head snapped back up to continue watching the ongoing smackdown, surrendering complete possession of his hand to Cujo to do as he pleased. 

If the Initiative didn’t work out, both girls would do awesome on the wrestling circuit. Not like Ember lacked in the costume department.

Speaking of costumes, he wondered if the match stick would let him borrow her feathered hat. That thing was awesome. 

Better just ask. 

Once she was done throwing down with skulker, of course.  

He was not about to become cannon fodder. 

Priorities.

-.-.-.-

“Ahoy! me fellow comrades!! Your future Cap'n ’s talking!! I’m here on a recruiting mission to embark on the most perilous dangers of the Realms!! May ye, dear comrades, embark under your own risk! Arrrgh!! ”

Thanks to Youngblood’s presence the main residential area of Phantom’s keep was starting to become complete disarray. The adult ghosts were frantic for the possible kidnapping of the tiniest ghosts that was most likely going to happen. The children amongst them were cheering for the possible playtime in their future.   

The guards were starting to panic. No one had seen the kid enter, much less bring along that enormous ship of his. The little brat was not supposed to be here!

“Who the freaking hell let Young Blood get in?!” One of the guards hollered.

“It’s fine, I invited him.” Came the cheerful reply from behind the guard. “I’m expanding the lair so the kids have more space to mess around. Just don’t tell them.”

The ghost was startled at the voice but didn’t panic anymore. Instead, they started to relax. They knew that voice, but they needed to confirm-

“P-Phantom?”

Phantom, in full cosplay and sporting the biggest feathered pirate hat on this side of the realms, landed lightly beside the startled ghost with a little chuckle, “Just play along, man.”

“Also, pretty sure there should be a ‘Lord’ in there somewhere.”

“I-I thought you preferred to not be called that, my lord?”

Phantom winced.

“Ah- No. It’s- You know what? Never mind, I keep forgetting you guys don’t really get updates of pop culture on this side of the coin” Phantom frowned. “I really should see about getting some wifi for this place”

He continued to murmur about the updates he would need to do to the tech to make that possible. But the guard was not paying attention to his words anymore. 

They were staring speechless at the whole pirate get-up the halfa had managed to assemble. It had been mostly borrowed last minute — not that the guard knew that—. It looked really good. Especially the gold hoop earrings that kept swaying slightly alongside the fluffy white hair with every motion of Phantom’s head. 

The guard let out a dreamy sigh. 

Their Lord was so cute. 

“How is everything going?”

“Wha-?” Getting suddenly pulled out of their daydreaming 

“The preparations?” Danny hummed distractedly, diligently searching for his journal and pen among the numerous layers of clothing he had donned for the occasion. Why the fuck did this thing have so many pockets? 

“Oh,” Came the ghost’s soft exclamation, suddenly remembering the requests the owner of the keep had left the last time he had come around. Finally emerging victorious from his search, Phantom turned to look at them, raising an eyebrow at the lack of proper explanation “Oh, yes! Everything is going smoothly, and we received the last confirmations this morning, sir.”

Danny smiled at the answer, completely unaware of the effect his playful smile had on the guard and the other ghosts that had started to converge there upon seeing their ‘landlord’. “Awesome.”

That was the last one. 

-.-.-.-

Well, almost the last one.

He must admit that the shell shocked expressions on Sam and Tucker were funny the first few minutes. 

But after having to repeat himself over and over again it had gotten increasingly less funny.

“Y-you are leaving?” Tucker stuttered.

Danny sighed, “Yes, we are leaving. As in, Jazz and me.”

After gaping at him for another few seconds, Sam finally gathered herself enough to start talking again.

“what about the ghost?”

“I- um- already took care of that,“ Danny mumbled, nervously avoiding eye contact while playing with his milkshake straw. “I also cashed in some debts and asked some favors from my allies, so most will be taken care of until we come back. Either way, I will leave enough Fenton Tech for the both of you and Val. Just in case.”

“Enough tech?” Sam repeated incredulously. “That’s it? Just leave some tech and jump boat just like that?” Danny frowned but refrained from answering her until he thought it through. Sam wouldn’t accept less. 

Jump boat? That was not really the case. Jazz and he had really put some thought into this, heck even before the Internship on Loony Capital had come up — specifically, since Jazz’s breakthrough — the siblings had already been toying with ways to get some of the most persistent ghosts to back the fuck off, distract them with better and useful targets or entice them into submission. 

At first, it had been a tentative thing, something fragile that they didn’t let themselves hope for. But with Jazz’s change of course of action, it had become something more urgent. 

They had to pull it off. There were no other options.   

Danny pursed his lips, then took a deep breath to strengthen himself for what was coming. “That’s not it-”

“You are just going to dump us.” She announced like it was final in a harsh whisper. 

At least she was keeping her tone quiet.  

“No one is getting dumped, Sam,” Danny tried to reassure her in the same tone of finality, sans the harshness. “I told you. We already thought this through. I already put some plans in motion and rigged some backups and- ok. Meaby they are not good enough to be permanent but-”

“You are going to put everyone at risk just because Jazz somehow got the ridiculous idea that ‘talking it out’ is the answer” She scoffed.  

“Maybe it is. Maybe not. We won’t know until we try.”

“They are ghosts-”

“So am I.” Danny Interjected. Sam seemed to choke on her next words. 

“You are not a ghost Danny.” She had, somehow, gained a tone even more quiet and harsh than her previous one. 

“Aren’t I?” He was looking directly into her amethyst eyes. Daring her to fight him on this.

He already knew she wouldn’t. 

She had opened her mouth to rebut but closed it immediately after. She took a long breath; most likely to prepare for her next rant than to calm herself. Weighing her options. She didn’t seem willing to have that particular conversation. Not yet. Danny had counted on that. “It’s still a goddamn risk.” She finally countered, a slight sliver of defeat coloring her words.

Maybe he had been a little harsh, but he needed her to understand. “There is risk in every choice I could make. This is not different-”

“What about us?”

Ok, so she was just getting her second wind. Fucking amazing. “Sam, please-”

“We are your friends!”

“And she is my sister!” He finally snapped. 

She startled. Gazing at him speechless for a moment before standing up and storming out of her seat without a backward glance, making the people on her way part like the red sea. Leaving in her wake a bunch of curious persons staring after her and throwing shameless glances to their table. 

So much for not causing a scene in the middle of the Nasty Burger.     

The boys ignored the stares. They were already accustomed to being the focus of attention. Almost never positive, mind you. But that was what cleansings were for. 

Tucker, who had been silent for most of the back and forth, finally spoke.  

“She just needs time to cool off.”  

The Fenton boy would be lying if he said he hadn’t seen this coming. Sam had always been very opinionated and believed herself to be right most of the time. In her defense, she usually was right and knew how to go about expressing it to her friends without resorting to this kind of standoff. This just appeared to have struck a nerve.

Living with her parents and having to fight for every single choice she wanted to make had left her on a constant defense mode that the boys had learned to navigate in their years of friendship. It hadn’t been easy for anyone. But neither Danny nor Tucker were perfect. They had their quirky shit to deal with. 

The three of them stuck together and hadn’t bothered to try and expand their friend group that much over the years. Not like they had many options. But that was ok.    

Until now. 

With Danny leaving them the relative feeling of a support system was trembling at its foundation. 

She was probably scared. So was Tucker if the wobbly but sincere smile he was giving him was any indication.

Danny had to admit that when he let himself think about it he got scared too. 

They had been in the same boat for a while and parting ways was not something they had accounted for, not for the near future, at least.  

In a weird way, they still would be in the same boat even after they were apart. Struggling to learn how to function without the other there.  Sam and Tuck would have each other, they were resilient, he was sure they could cope. He would have Jazz like he always had, enough said. And they would keep going like they always did.

Tucker was right. She would come around. But-

Danny slumped on his seat, running a hand through his hair releasing a big sigh.

“Yeah, I know” He murmured looking pensively in the direction their friend had stormed off. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“So, you are not mad?” Danny asked when he finally turned around towards Tucker.

“Nah, man. Just a little squeezy about dealing with this without you. But if your sister is really going to do this she is going to need you there.” Tucker shuddered a little bit. “I have never been there personally but if the social media and forums are not lying Gotham is a goddamn beast dude.”

The halfa hummed in agreement. Not like Amity Park didn’t have its own reputation on their corner of the internet, but still.

Gotham.

Danny took a sip from his milkshake before doing a mental check-list and frowning, “I’m starting to feel like I’m forgetting something” he whispered.  

“Oh god, please don’t say that.”

“It’s okay,” Danny had made his best at planning, so his friends wouldn’t have to deal with the ghost in his absence. But with things like this, you never knew for sure. Not until it slapped you right across the face.“Probably just the paranoia.” ‘I hope’ he finished mentally with a weak laugh.

“Dude,” Tucker started before taking hold of his friend’s hand and squeezing it. “If you need help with anything I’m your man. just say the word.”

Tucker may not understand the full extent of the situation, but he was trying, and that meant a lot to the Fenton. He squeezed back and shot his friend a small but grateful smile. 

“It’s ok. Thanks, Tuck-” He cut himself off, being interrupted by the sudden ding of one of Tucker’s devices. 

The afro American boy ignored the sound though, in favor of putting his full attention on his friend, an action that demonstrated how serious he was with his words, but Danny was already lost in thought, staring intently at the briefly, but brightly, illuminated screen.

“Actually-” The halfa suddenly chirped, turning his full attention back to the boy across the table. Tucker just blinked back, waiting. Danny leaned forward dragging the other boy towards him so he could continue with a whisper. “You could help me with a pair of things.”

The mischievous smile Tucker was witnessing had come out of nowhere and couldn’t presage anything good, but as it was not aimed at him — necessarily — he couldn’t help but join in. 

Several cities over, some of Gotham’s more infamous residents couldn’t find an explanation to the sudden shiver that ran up their spines.

-.-.-.-

When Danny made it back home he didn’t waste time tracking his sister down. She was down in the lab, typing away on the main computer and using one of her shoulders to keep her mobile pressed against her ear.

She was in the middle of a conversation and still managing to rewrite part of the ghost portal code like a pro.

His sister sure loved multitasking. 

At the sound of the door closing behind the younger Fenton, Jazz looked up from the screen to shoot a brief smile to her brother before carrying on with her conversation. 

“Yes. That’s perfect, I will be sending the three files then-”

The boy froze on his step and blinked a pair of times. She was already talking with one of the G. A. proctors? When he left this morning he had just dumped his proposals on Jazz for a second revision. He wasn’t expecting to have them sent already.

Hmm. Well, to be fair, he had rambled at Jazz about his projects relentlessly whenever he had a chance and didn’t feel like death warmed over. 

Which weren’t many times. But once he got into a ramble it was an Olympic endeavor to shut him up. He was a Fenton. It was in their blood. Jazz did it too, even if she tried to chalk it up to healthy-and-completely-natural excitement.

So. Jazz already knew the contents pretty well, it was just a question of pulling off the presentation, which was the thing that Jazz was supposed to check over. 

His sister had given him some tips, and even if his parents were not as invested in the writing process as in the practical, the fruit loop had more than enough experience doing it and didn’t give two flying fucks over whether or not Danny wanted his knowledge.

Danny knew monologing was an essential part of a villainous experience but he had spent way too much time listening to Vlad bitch about most of his employees to last him a lifetime.

Even little Madeline couldn’t stop the loneliness that had brought the madness. Danny had put so many hopes in the fluffy thing.

Letting out a resigned sigh the boy decided to just let it go and be grateful that his sister - who had more than five Universities fighting over her-  deemed it acceptable already. 

He liked writing his ideas down, but using formal language and fudging APA was fucking exhausting.

Good fucking riddance. He thought, shaking his head slightly and sending a light sneer in the computer’s direction. As if the files on it could feel his disdain from his position on the other side of the room. 

Danny spotted some of her sister’s nail polish bottles by her side on the table and made a beeline for them and took most of the little bottles before retreating to a chair on the other side of the desk. 

He had heard some of the cheerleaders saying that the nail polish helped to keep the nails from getting all fucked up quite as easily, and it had caught his attention.

Danny had looked down at his hands and winced. Normally he didn’t pay much attention to his nails, but ever since getting on a constant string of fights he was more aware of how easily the goddamn things could break on you if you didn’t trim them properly, and it hurt like a bitch every time. It always seemed to be the tiniest things that told you to ‘fuck off’ to your face like nothing else.  

Danny guessed that it was worth the try. And if anything, putting some color on them would help hide some of the blood — and ectoplasm — that got under his fingernails. 

So he tried it out.

By this point, he was not sure if it really helped or he was just fooling himself into thinking it did work. The only sure thing was that he didn’t feel comfortable going without it anymore.

Danny liked to borrow the clear nail protector from Jazz, but most of the polish he had in his possession had been previously Sam’s. All pastels and cheery colors that her mom kept insisting on buying her because they kept being used.

“Thank you, Miss Gordon!”

If she had bothered to pay more attention to her daughter’s friends for more than sneering at them she may have noticed Danny’s pastel pink nails. But she hadn’t. And that had just ensured Danny a constant supply of pastels to cover his bloodied nails with-

“So, how did it go?”

“Uh.” The boy startled at the sudden proximity of the voice. He looked up from his nails and to his sister, who was now seated beside him. 

“The execution.” Jazz prodded, smiling at him in anticipation. It looked downright creepy, considering the words she used.

“Seriously Jazz?” He snorted. “You make it sound like I went there to dispatch murder at random.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” His sister scoffed, watching how her brother resumed painting his nails.  “They are already dead. You couldn’t kill them any more than they already are.”

“I could certainly try.”

“Danny-”

“Let’s just say the all-nighter paid off, and leave it at that.”

“So you had fun.” She teased. Stealing back one of the bottles of polish to finish her own nails with a second coat.  

“For the most part, but-” He stopped, struggling to find words to describe the sheer mayhem that went down in the zone-  

Jazz just hummed and gave him a little nod, still focusing on her nails. Danny relaxed. He could tell her later. When he had cooled off some more from the attack-protect mode he got into whenever he visited the zone. Remembering it all right now would just set him off again.  

“So, what do you want for dinner?” The redhead asked suddenly.

Danny blinked a pair of times, perplexed, and stole a look at the clock.“It’s a little late to be asking that, don’t you think?”

“I suppose, but I decided to wait for you and then got sidetracked with the files.” She really needed to work on her awareness of time. “Didn’t even notice the hour.”

“I don’t even remember what we have in the cupboards.”

“Maybe we could-” She didn’t manage to suggest something before she got interrupted by their mother’s voice.

“Dinner is ready!”

“They made dinner?” Danny whispered to Jazz in dread. 

“So it seems,” she responded, sharing his dread.

“Why did they make dinner? They never make dinner!”

“I mean, they do for special occasions, like-” She shuddered. “Like thanksgiving.”

This was ridiculous. Jazz and he were normally the ones cooking. Their parents spent most of their time in the lab or trying to hunt down ghosts. Today was not a holiday. They hadn’t invented anything new worth the ‘celebration’. There wasn’t a reason for them to-

“Oh! and Vlad is here~!”

Danny slammed his face against the desk with a groan.

Jazz winced at the sound. 

“Time to face the music, little bro” She closed the polish bottles and patted him carefully on the back a few times before standing up and going to the kitchen. 

“I still feel like I’m forgetting something…” Danny grumbled under his breath before following his sister upstairs.

-.-.-.-

It was the last Friday of the month and this could perfectly be one of Jazz’s many attempts to make them a functional family unit. 

Except that the Fenton girl had let said efforts slip in favor of pursuing her little brother’s scholarship. 

Oh, And the fruitloop was here. 

Vlad had weaseled into the family’s — unplanned — plans because of course, he did.

“Everything looks absolutely lovely Madeline.”

Jazz would have believed his words. If she hadn’t seen the man poke at the food on the table with the wariness of a man on the death warrant whenever mom was not looking.

The siblings had spent way too many family dinners doing the same thing whenever they couldn’t quite manage to keep the older Fentons off the kitchen. And even when they did, they didn’t lower their guard. The chance of contamination was always a latent threat to the house. 

Jazz turned her head slightly to look at her brother. The boy was, very pointedly, not poking at his food and just watched it with all the scorn he could gather. He refused to do the same things as Vlad, which didn’t mean he was crazy enough to try and eat the food on his plate.

The dinner proceeded with making some catching up, abundant science talk, teasing, scathing remarks, sighing, and finally dissolved in a three-way match between the Fenton children and one Vlad Masters to see who could dispose of the food in the most sneaky way.  

She had always wondered how the man survived with her parents for as long as he did back in their college years. She knew now.  

“Oh! And Jazzrinces finally decided on a college! The G.S.A. is backing up her research on ghosts! Isn’t that incredible?!”

Vlad smiled blandly at Jack. Skillfully suppressing the sneer the man’s cheeriness was trying to invoke to his face. He had lots of practice.

“And Danny decided to tag along to help his sister! Isn’t he such a sweet boy?” Maddie added with a cheer a little more forced than her husband’s. But still, cheer.

Now, that. That got Vlad’s attention. And he decided to take advantage of the children’s distraction to get more information and decide a proper plan of action. 

Dany was making it a point to completely ignore the three adult’s conversation. Jazz stuck to taking small sips from her glass of water. That was, until-

“Surely you’re not planning on sending them without some proper equipment, are you?” Vlad tutted. “Don’t get me started on weapons. I mean you never know for certain what will be indispensable, right?”

“That’s a wonderful idea!”

The heads of both children snapped up. 

“I mean, most of my research isn’t-” Jazz tried hastily to stop this on its tracks. 

Sadly, it was not to be.  

“Nonsense Jazz,” Her mom interrupted her, “It’s better to be prepared!”

Vlad hummed in agreement, “They won’t, after all, have anyone else to protect them from those trashy ghosts.”

Just like that, the Fenton parents started to list out loud all the things the kids would surely need for the research.  

Vlad smirked.

Danny narrowed his eyes at the pompous fucker.

Jazz resigned herself to keep sighing until the end of times.

-.-.-.-

“How are we supposed to take this with us..?” Danny whispered looking horrified at all the equipment his parents had just thrown their way

“Can’t you just put it in the thermos?”

“The ectoplasmic energies of each Item would clash horribly” Danny winced 

“You tried to…?” Jazz side-eyed him

“Yes.” He said curtly, “Wouldn’t really recommend” he continued with the air of someone haunted by the consequences of their life choices. death choices. Both were accurate, she supposed.

Jazz swallowed.

Cue in more silent horrified staring at the equipment.

“Maybe if we start with some boxes-”

“BEWARE!!! THE BOX GHOST!!!”

“Oh my god-!”  

“I Fucking knew it!!”

-.-.-.-

A little while after, once the ghost box was gone, and the siblings had retreated to Jazz’s room for safety and the opportunity of proper evening gossip. The fruitloop came barging into the room. 

“Ok. I raided the kitchen. There is nothing edible in this house. How do you even survive.” He stated, not asked, in a deeply judgemental tone.

“Magic. Pokemon Magic.” Danny deadpanned from his place on the bed. Jazz, who was cuddled beside him, was still chewing on the dry crackers that managed to survive the onslaught of their parents, for the simple reason that the things had been in her room. 

Vlad sighed and started to massage his temples. 

“Fine. Truce. Grab your things, we are going out.” 

Jazz slightly choked on her crackers. Danny just choked on air. “What? Where-?”

“To get some proper food, of course.” The man sneered like it was completely obvious and tagging a smirk on for good riddance.

“Why would-” 

“You have directions. I have the money. Chop chop. Before your parents catch us.” With that, the millionaire turned around and left, leaving the door wide open fully expecting them to follow along. 

The siblings stared at each other for a moment before scrambling after Vlad. 

Food was more important than playing the archnemesis-game. 

For the hundred time that day:

Priorities.

ENDNOTES:

I couldn’t help the fucking references. Danny is a dork and I am ashamed.

-.-.-.-

I headcanon Danny as someone who really likes pet names, be it because he really likes the person or because it pisses them off. Two stones a deader bird.

-.-.-.-

What do you mean The Avengers aren’t a boyband?

-.-.-.-

The siblings are firm believers of the borrowing culture. There is no shame in asking to borrow some things.

Are those Ember’s hat & earrings? Yes. Yes, they are.

Why does Danny have his ears pierced, you ask? BECAUse there is no absolute heteronormative bullshit in this household AND I MUST ADD THAT-!

-Danny & Jazz watched ‘The parent trap’ when they were small little beans and were really interested in whether or not piercing your sibling’s ears was the ultimate bonding moment.    

Jazz insisted on researching a lot more about proper sterilizing, mind you- but like the tiny feral unsupervised cupcakes they were, they decided to try it.

Jazz already had her ears pierced, SO, yeah.

It hurt like a bitch for Danny, and Jazz panicked for a week afterward about infections, but it was indeed a good bonding moment.  

-.-.-.-

If I ship Jason with some fucking therapy does that mean I can ship him with Jazz?

Ship’s name is JJ for you.

… I just gave myself YOI flashbacks.

Fuck.

-.-.-.-

You might want to say: ‘but author-san, those are not all the ghosts Danny deals with?’, and you are damn right they aren’t, but you must trust in Danny thousand-back-ups Fenton, my children.

(Also, where would be the fun if everyone was accounted for since now? You will see what went down later on. :p)

-.-.-.-

Don’t know if you noticed, but Jazz is not the only one that thinks Danny is a cutie patootie :v

Danny has long ago resigned himself to the being called “Lord” thing. Is better than the ‘K’ word.

-.-.-.-

The thing about the nails is something I do. I started because they looked pretty, I kept painting them because I felt they broke up more easily if I didn’t put like three coats of polish on them.

At least I don’t bite them as much anymore. :p

-.-.-.-

If there is someone on this green earth that knows about the struggles of living with Jack and Maddie Fenton, that someone is Vlad Masters.

Change my mind.

You can’t.

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 11 paragraph x

In the car, out on the main road again, all was jubilation: laughter, high fives, while my heart was slamming so hard I could barely breathe. “What’s going on?” I rasped, several times—gulping for breath and looking back and forth between them and then, when they kept ignoring me, babbling in a percussive mix of Russian and Ukrainian, all four of them including Shirley Temple: “Angliyski!” Boris turned to me, wiping his eyes, and slung his arm around my neck. “Change of plans,” he said. “That was all on the fly—improvised. We could have asked for nothing better. Their third man didn’t show.” “Catching them short-handed.” “Flatfooted.” “Pants down! On the crapper!” “You”—I had to gasp to get the words out—“you said no guns.” “Well, no one got hurt, did they? What difference does it make?” “Why didn’t we just pay?” “Because we lucked out!” Throwing up his arms. “Once in a lifetime chance! We had the opportunity! What were they going to do? They were two —we were four. If they had any sense, they should never have let us inside. And—yes, I know, only forty thousand, but why should I pay them one cent if I don’t have to? For stealing my own property?” Boris chortled. “Did you see the look on his face? Grateful Dead? When Cherry whipped him back of the dome?” “You know what he was complaining about, the old goat?” said Victor, turning to me jubilantly. “Wanted it in Euros! ‘What, dollars?’ ” imitating his peevish expression. “ ‘You brought me dollars?’ ” “Bet he wishes he had those dollars now.” “I bet he wishes he kept his mouth shut.” “I’d like to hear that phone call to Sascha.” “I wish I knew the name of the guy. That stood them up. Because I would like to buy him a drink.” “Wonder where he is?” “He is probably at home in the shower.” “Studying his Bible lesson.” “Watching ‘Christmas Carol’ on television.” “Waiting at the wrong place, most like.”

“I—” My throat was so constricted I had to swallow to speak. “What about that kid?” “Eh?” It was raining, light rain pattering on the windshield. Streets black and glistening. “What kid?” “Boy. Girl. Kitchen boy. Whatever.” “What?” Cherry turned—still winded, breathing hard. “I didn’t see anyone.” “I didn’t either.” “Well, I did.” “What’d she look like?” “Young.” I could still see the freeze-frame of the young ghostly face, mouth slightly open. “White coat. Japanese-looking.” “Really?” said Boris curiously. “You can tell apart by looking? Like where they are from? Japan, China, Vietnam?” “I didn’t get a good look. Asian.” “He, or she?” “I think is all girls that work in the kitchen there,” said Gyuri. “Macrobyotik. Brown rice and like that.” “I—” Now I really wasn’t sure. “Well—” Cherry ran his hand over the top of his close-cropped hair —“glad she ran, whoever, because you know what else I found back there? Sawed-off Mossberg 500.” Laughter and whistles at this. “Shit.” “Where was it? Grozdan didn’t—?” “No. In a—” he gestured, to indicate a sling—“what do you call it. Hanging under the table, in some cloth like. Just happened to see it when I was down on the floor. Like—looked up. There it was, right over my head.” “You didn’t leave it there, did you?” “No! I wouldn’t have minded to take it except was too big and had my hands full. Unscrewed it and knocked the pin out and threw it in the alley. Also—” he pulled a silver snub-nosed pistol out of his pocket, which he passed over to Boris—“this!” Boris held it up to the light and looked at it. “Nice little conceal-carry J-frame. Ankle holster in those bell bottom jeans! But to his misfortune he was not quick enough.” “Flexcuffs,” said Gyuri to me, with slightly inclined head. “Vitya thinks ahead.” “Well—” Cherry wiped the sweat from his broad forehead—“they are light and slim to carry, and they have saved me many times shooting people. I do not like to hurt anyone if I don’t have to.” Medieval city: crooked streets, lights draped on bridges and shining off rain-peppered canals, melting in the drizzle. Infinity of anonymous shops, twinkling window displays, lingerie and garter belts, kitchen utensils arrayed like surgical instruments, foreign words everywhere, Snel bestellen, Retro-stijl, Showgirl-Sexboetiek. “Back door was open to the alley,” said Cherry, elbowing off his sports coat and swigging from a bottle of vodka which Shirley T. had produced from under the front seat—hands a bit shaky and his face, the nose particularly, glowing a flagrant, stressed-out, Rudolph red. “They must have left it open for him—their third man—to come in at the back. I closed it and locked it— made Grozdan close and lock it, gun to his head, he was snivel and crying like baby—” “That Mossberg,” Boris said to me, accepting the bottle passed over the front seat. “Evil dirty thing. Sawed off—? sprays pellets here to Hamburg. Aim it way the fuck away from everyone and still you will hit half the people in the room.” “Good trick, no?” said Victor Cherry philosophically. “To say your third man is not there? ‘Wait five minutes, please’? ‘Sorry, mix up’—? ‘He will be here any moment’? While he is all the time in back with the shotgun. Good double cross, if they had thought of it—” “Maybe they did think of it. Why else have the gun back there?” “I think we had a narrow miss, is what I think—” “There was one car pulled up front, scared Shirley and me,” said Gyuri, “while you were all in there, two guys, we thought we were in the shit but was only two gays, French guys, looking for restaurant—” “—but no one in the back, thank God, I got Grozdan on the floor and cuffed him to radiator,” Cherry was saying. “Ah, but—!” he held up the felt-wrapped package—“first. This. For you.”

He handed it over the seat to Gyuri, who—gingerly, with his fingertips, as if it were a tray he might spill—passed it to me. Boris—downing his slug, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand—chucked me gaily in the arm with the bottle while humming we wish you a merry Christmas we wish you a merry Christmas. Package on my knees. Running my hands all around the edge. The felt was so thin that I sensed the rightness of it immediately with my fingertips, the texture and weight were perfect. “Go on,” said Boris, nodding, “better open it, make sure it’s not the Civics book this time! Where was it?” he asked Cherry as I began to fumble with the string. “Dirty little broom closet. Piece-of-shit plastic briefcase. Grozdan took me right to it. I thought he might fuck around a bit but burner at the head was all it took. No sense getting popped when all that good space cake still around for the taking.” “Potter,” said Boris, trying to get my attention; and then again: “Potter.” “Yes?” Lifting the briefcase. “This 40 rocks is going to Gyuri and Shirley T. Keeping them green. For services rendered. Because it is thanks to these two that we did not pay Sascha one cent for the favor of stealing your property. And Vitya—” reaching across to clasp his hand—“we are more than equal now. The debt is mine.” “No, I can never repay what I owe you, Borya.” “Forget it. Is nothing.” “Nothing? Nothing? Not true, Borya, because this very night I carry my life because of you, and every night until the last night…” It was an interesting story he was telling, if I’d had ears to listen to it— someone had fingered Cherry for some unspecified but apparently very serious crime which he had not committed, nothing to do with, perfectly innocent, the guy had rolled for reduced prison time and unless Cherry, in turn, wanted to roll on his higher-ups (“unwise to do, if I wish to keep breathing”), he was looking at ten sticks and Boris, Boris had saved the day because Boris had tracked down the slimebag, in Antwerp and out on bail, and the story of how he had done this was very involved and enthusiastic and Cherry was getting choked up and sniffing a bit and there was more and it seemed to involve arson and bloodshed and something to do with a power saw but by that point I wasn’t hearing a word because I’d gotten the string untied and streetlights and watery rain reflections were rolling over the surface of my painting, my goldfinch, which—I knew incontrovertibly, without a doubt, before even turning to look at the verso—was real. “See?” said Boris, interrupting Vitya right in the heat of his story. “Looks good, no, your zolotaia ptitsa? I told you we took care of it, didn’t I?” Running my fingertip incredulously around the edges of the board, like Doubting Thomas across the palm of Christ. As any furniture dealer knew, or for that matter St. Thomas: it was harder to deceive the sense of touch than sight, and even after so many years my hands remembered the painting so well that my fingers went to the nail marks immediately, at the bottom of the panel, the tiny holes where (once upon a time, or so it was said) the painting was nailed up as a tavern sign, part of a painted cabinet, no one knew. “He still alive back there?” Victor Cherry. “Think so.” Boris dug an elbow in my ribs. “Say something.”

But I couldn’t. It was real; I knew it, even in the dark. Raised yellow streak of paint on the wing and feathers scratched in with the butt of the brush. One chip on the upper left edge that hadn’t been there before, tiny mar less than two millimeters, but otherwise: perfect. I was different, but it wasn’t. And as the light flickered over it in bands, I had the queasy sense of my own life, in comparison, as a patternless and transient burst of energy, a fizz of biological static just as random as the street lamps flashing past. “Ah, beautiful,” said Gyuri amiably, leaning in to look at my right side. “So pure! Like a daisy. You know what I am trying to express?” he said, nudging me, when I did not answer. “Plain flower, alone in a field? It’s just —” he gestured, here it is! amazing! “Do you know what I am saying?” he asked, nudging me again, only I was still too dazed to reply. Boris in the meantime was murmuring half in English and half Russian to Vitya about the ptitsa as well as something else I couldn’t quite catch, something about mother and baby, lovely love. “Still wishing you had phoned the art cops, eh?” he said, slinging his arm around my shoulder with his head close to mine, exactly as when we were boys. “We can still phone them,” said Gyuri, with a shout of laughter, punching me on the other arm. “That’s right, Potter! Shall we? No? Maybe not such a good idea any more, eh?” he said across me, to Gyuri, with a raised eyebrow.