#we're very lucky to have the money for this and it's extremely understandable why most trans people can't take a private pathway

[tesco-finest-aromantics]

why is transitioning in this country so fucking expensive? 😩

£120 for a blood test and £300 for an appoinment with an endocrinologist every six months to monitor hormone levels, £70 to £150 a month for testosterone and £60 for injection supplies

[mariana-oconnor]

The Beryl Coronet pt 1

Another one where I remember the title and then literally nothing else. There are a lot like that. I swear I have read most of these before, and watched the entire Granada series, but apparently my memory is just appalling.

One assumes that there will be a beryl coronet involved. i think beryls might be emeralds? (The Internet says both aquamarine and emerald are examples of beryl, my fleeting interest two decades ago in precious and semiprecious stones finally pays off!)

“Holmes,” said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking down the street, “here is a madman coming along. It seems rather sad that his relatives should allow him to come out alone.”

So we're starting out strong here. In one paragraph we have established that Watson is living with Holmes ('our bow-window') (where is his wife?) and with some period-typical judgement of mental health. I'm guessing the man in question is probably agitated from whatever incident has sent him to request Holmes' assistance, and not suffering from a mental illness, but the two are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Or it could be the onset of brain fever...

For a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his body and plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the extreme limits of his reason. Then, suddenly springing to his feet, he beat his head against the wall with such force that we both rushed upon him and tore him away to the centre of the room.

Well that definitely sounds like he does have some condition. And if he didn't before, beating your head against a wall that hard is liable to give you some brain damage if you're not lucky. Glad that Watson and Holmes stopped him.

"Public disgrace I might have faced, although I am a man whose character has never yet borne a stain. Private affliction also is the lot of every man; but the two coming together, and in so frightful a form, have been enough to shake my very soul. Besides, it is not I alone. The very noblest in the land may suffer unless some way be found out of this horrible affair.”

Oh, no, I was right the first time. He's just agitated by his misfortune. Wow... this guy lacks coping mechanisms. He's really hyping this up, though, Public disgrace, private affliction, shaking his soul, the very noblest in the land (not that I particularly care about them, but the stakes they are high). I assume from the title that it's a beryl coronet that has been misplaced in some publicly noticeable way. If it turns out that he just misplaced the meat for his dinner, I will be judging him hard for all this melodrama.

“I feel that time is of value,” said he; “that is why I hastened here when the police inspector suggested that I should secure your co-operation. I came to Baker Street by the Underground and hurried from there on foot, for the cabs go slowly through this snow. That is why I was so out of breath, for I am a man who takes very little exercise."

Mr Holder: Time is of the essence.

Also Mr Holder:

We don't need to know how you got to Baker Street, we already know you arrived. Maybe if things are so urgent you should... start with the urgent thing and then talk about how unfit you are and how you need to do more exercise.

“‘It is absolutely essential to me,’ said he, ‘that I should have £50,000 at once. I could, of course, borrow so trifling a sum ten times over from my friends, but I much prefer to make it a matter of business and to carry out that business myself. In my position you can readily understand that it is unwise to place one's self under obligations.’"

First off, hello BofE inflation calculator: 50k in modern money is approximately £5.2 million today.

Second, 'I could just ask my friends. I totally could ask them and they could all give me this money easily. I'm only here because I want this to be business. I don't want to be obliged to them.' Why does this very famous person (Prince of Wales?) feel so defensive about this? He doesn't need to explain why he's asking a bank not his friends. That's literally what the bank is there for. This feels like what someone would say if they didn't have any friends. Or if they'd already borrowed millions from their friends and never paid them back.

“‘Next Monday I have a large sum due to me, and I shall then most certainly repay what you advance, with whatever interest you think it right to charge. But it is very essential to me that the money should be paid at once.’"

I know this guy is famous and (probably) royal and therefore by the rules of these stories therefore probably above reproach, but I would not want to give him a 5 million pound loan. The 'I could totally ask my friends' and this 'I'm totally going to pay you back on Monday. I've got loads of money coming on Monday' are warning signs for me.

"‘You have doubtless heard of the Beryl Coronet?’ “‘One of the most precious public possessions of the empire,’ said I."

Yep, my money is on this being Albert, Prince of Wales, him what would become Edward VII. Iirc he had a bit of a reputation for being a party boy prince, so if he really can't get any money from his friends (even if asking for 5 million were a reasonably thing to do) I wouldn't be surprised if it was because he wasn't good at paying people back.

This mfer just casually totes around some of the crown jewels, though. Just got 10 million in a case that he's carrying around. No one will miss it for a little while. I guess at this time they weren't on display at the Tower of London. I really want this coronet to be stolen so bad, and I have a feeling it's going to be.

"...imbedded in soft, flesh-coloured velvet..."

Whytf did you call it 'flesh-coloured'? Is the colour that important that you needed to specify it, and even if you needed to specify it, why choose those words? Why? Couldn't it have been red, or blue, or green? Why 'flesh-coloured'? ACD, I just want to talk.

"'Is the security sufficient?’ “‘Ample.’"

Well, if this guy says there's ample security, I guess there must be. Clearly that's enough reassurance for me to leave my ten million pound shiny hat here with no problems at all. Details? Who needs details? Pah. It's just a priceless object that technically belongs to the state rather than me.

I don't want this coronet to be recovered. I want it to be lost forever. Whoever stole it should get a gold star.

But it's okay because he makes it very clear that it shouldn't be lost or damaged.

"When I was alone once more, however, with the precious case lying upon the table in front of me..."

And then walks out leaving it just on the desk of this random guy he's never met before.

"I already regretted having ever consented to take charge of it."

Should have thought about that earlier, my dude. Also, if you know it's a national possession, is it even legal for the Prince of Wales to use it as collateral for a loan? Surely it would have to actually be one of his possessions to be valid. Or at least having the signature of the actual owner (Queen Victoria in this case, although possibly parliament?) to be used as such. Nothing about this loan is a good idea.

If he doesn't repay it are you just going to... keep national property?

"However, it was too late to alter the matter now, so I locked it up in my private safe and turned once more to my work."

You just... put it in your own private safe?

WTF even is this buffoonery? How is this... What is this... I can't even. Does the bank not have a secure vault? With guards etc.? But no, any safe will do.

"I determined, therefore, that for the next few days I would always carry the case backward and forward with me, so that it might never be really out of my reach."

I guess the bank does not have a vault. Or a night watchman, or literally ANY KIND OF WAY OF DEALING WITH ITEMS LIKE THIS. When it seems that this is something that they are in the habit of doing, although maybe not on this level. And they clearly have £1000 notes hanging around. Do they just all have them in their individual safes as well?

"I did not breathe freely until I had taken it upstairs and locked it in the bureau of my dressing-room."

Super secure. A+ job.

I've seen those old bureaus, the locks are so simple I could pick one with one of my hair pins!

I am fully on the side of any and all thieves in this escapade (unless it turns out the Prince of Wales has hired them himself for nefarious purposes) but at this point in time I have lost most of the sympathy I have for these people.

The only reason I don't think it should be stolen right now is that, honestly, it presents so little challenge to any potential thieves it's actually insulting.

"She came with an excellent character, however, and has always given me satisfaction."

Language evolves, meaning changes, this does not mean what it looks like it means. But still, it gives me the ick. Nope. No thank you. Especially when followed by the description of how pretty she is.

"My family itself is so small that it will not take me long to describe it. I am a widower and have an only son, Arthur. He has been a disappointment to me, Mr. Holmes—a grievous disappointment."

Oh boy. So you took a ten million pound coronet and locked it in a desk in the same house as a son who is perpetually in debt and cannot be trusted with money. Even if he didn't take it, which seems likely as he's clearly being marked as the most obvious suspect. I stg you should not be this foolish.

“And, indeed, I could not wonder that such a man as Sir George Burnwell should gain an influence over him, for [...] I have found myself that I could hardly resist the fascination of his manner. He is older than Arthur, a man of the world to his finger-tips, one who had been everywhere, seen everything, a brilliant talker, and a man of great personal beauty. Yet when I think of him in cold blood, far away from the glamour of his presence, I am convinced from his cynical speech and the look which I have caught in his eyes that he is one who should be deeply distrusted. So I think, and so, too, thinks my little Mary, who has a woman's quick insight into character."

Add a fae to the tally of Sherlock Holmes supernatural encounters. Also, I'm going to call it now, Arthur is blameless and Mary is in love with Sir George Burnwell and they're going to run away together, or that's what he told her when he convinced her to steal the coronet. That's my theory. We shall see...

"She is a sunbeam in my house—sweet, loving, beautiful, a wonderful manager and housekeeper, yet as tender and quiet and gentle as a woman could be."

A thief? Honestly I want her to be even more after this description. The Victorian ideals of femininity were so trite. I hope she stole that coronet.

"I think that if anyone could have drawn him into the right path it would have been she, and that his marriage might have changed his whole life; but now, alas! it is too late—forever too late!"

... it is not a woman's job to fix a man, Mr Holder. If this story ends with her marrying Arthur I will be very sad. Although from the 'too late' is one of them dead?

“When we were taking coffee in the drawing-room that night after dinner, I told Arthur and Mary my experience, and of the precious treasure which we had under our roof, suppressing only the name of my client."

You just... told them about it. Just... He says be discreet. It's 10 million pounds (£100k at the time). Your son has money problems. And you're just out here chatting about how you have essentially part of the crown jewels of the British Empire in a drawer upstairs.

My dude...

My actual dude...

You should have just taken the coronet out and used it as a centrepiece. it would have been less obvious.

Also, it's part of the crown jewels, how much use do you think 'suppressing the name of your client' is going to bloody be. There aren't a lot of people who can just help themselves to national bloody treasures.

“‘Where have you put it?’ asked Arthur. “‘In my own bureau.’ “‘Well, I hope to goodness the house won't be burgled during the night.’ said he. “‘It is locked up,’ I answered. “‘Oh, any old key will fit that bureau. When I was a youngster I have opened it myself with the key of the box-room cupboard.’"

That's what I said! Also... this is evidence in Arthur's favour because only the stupidest person in the world would say 'I could steal that' and then steal it. Although... given the levels of intelligence his father is showing, we can't hold out much hope for him. Perhaps his mother was the brains of this operation. I hope for Arthur's sake he takes more after her than his father.

"I started to go round the house to see that all was secure—a duty which I usually leave to Mary but which I thought it well to perform myself that night. As I came down the stairs I saw Mary herself at the side window of the hall, which she closed and fastened as I approached. “‘Tell me, dad,’ said she, looking, I thought, a little disturbed, ‘did you give Lucy, the maid, leave to go out to-night?’"

I'm going to try not to make this a Naval Treaty situation again. Data, data, data, etc. So instead of making an accusation here, I'm merely going to ask what Mary was doing at the window before she closed it, and point out that she is drawing attention to another possible suspect and also has good knowledge of all ways to access the house and ample opportunity to leave something open or unlocked.

These may all be coincidences. There are potential valid explanations for all of these things.

Or she might have just sent a message to Sir George Burnwell and planning to steal a coronet this evening.

“‘She came in just now by the back door. I have no doubt that she has only been to the side gate to see someone, but I think that it is hardly safe and should be stopped.’"

Though the narrative now wants us to think that Lucy is meeting with Sir George Burnwell... but my money is still on Mary. We already know Lucy has lots of suitors who hang around the grounds, she might well have been meeting with one of them.

"Are you sure that everything is fastened?’ “‘Quite sure, dad.’"

Only her word for that.

Not that I'm accusing her of anything. I'm merely... pointing things out. Factual things.

“‘Arthur!’ I screamed [...] "He appeared to be wrenching at it, or bending it with all his strength. At my cry he dropped it from his grasp and turned as pale as death. I snatched it up and examined it. One of the gold corners, with three of the beryls in it, was missing. “‘You blackguard!’ I shouted, beside myself with rage. ‘You have destroyed it! You have dishonoured me forever! Where are the jewels which you have stolen?’"

Some other facts that have been established. Arthur loves Mary and has asked her to marry him on multiple occasions. Just throwing that one out there. If he is trying to cover up a crime/take the blame for someone... perhaps...

Also, Mr Holder 'You have dishonoured me forever!'? Sure, but you dishonoured yourself first by being so very, very bad at your job. You had one job.

“‘You have called me names enough,’ said he, ‘I will not stand it any longer. I shall not say another word about this business, since you have chosen to insult me. I will leave your house in the morning and make my own way in the world.’"

Arthur making some interesting choices here. Like 'I know I was just found with my hands on a broken national treasure, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to walk out of this one a free man.'

When you said he was spoiled, Mr Holder, I didn't think you meant that he really didn't understand the meaning of the word 'consequences' at all.

Although maybe you should have listened to him before biting his head off. I know things look pretty damning, but maybe talking would have been a better approach. "Hey, son. What you got there?" But I get that it's a little difficult to remain calm when you're looking at the twisted remains of both a ten million dollar mistake and your entire career/life.

"Mary was the first to rush into my room, and, at the sight of the coronet and of Arthur's face, she read the whole story and, with a scream, fell down senseless on the ground."

Convenient. First, that she was so close to the room that she would be the first to rush in, and second, that she's now unavailable for questioning.

But seriously, Mary, I am behind you all the way on this. Keep at it! I am cheering you on. I hope your performance was Oscar worthy.

I don't know what Arthur expects his father to do here. Lie, maybe, and say 'I don't know what happened to it, Your Royal Highness. Must have been a random thief and absolutely not the son who I told the location to and who I found red-handed with it.' I firmly believe he's innocent and his father walked in on him trying to fix the thing, but even so he's coming across as kind of naive here. I get maybe hoping that Daddy wouldn't turn him in, but he must have thought it was a possibility.

“‘At least,’ said he, ‘you will not have me arrested at once. It would be to your advantage as well as mine if I might leave the house for five minutes.’"

Before Sir George can get away with the missing gems.

Mary, keep playing dead, if you faint for long enough you'll miss all of it. Although your... maybe potential boyfriend... might ditch you. Probably will ditch you. If that's what's happening. I really hope he's not just playing you and the two of you are going to take those gems, get them recut and sold, and sail off into the sunset (hopefully not interrupted by a random shipwrecking incident), but something tells me Sir George Burnwell is playing you.

"...I implored him to remember that not only my honour but that of one who was far greater than I was at stake; and that he threatened to raise a scandal which would convulse the nation."

This is not a convincing argument. Honestly, if I was told that what I was doing might cause a scandal for the royal family, I would absolutely have the impulse to do it harder. I get that I am not the Victorian son of a gentleman, but still. 'You have to save the royal family from scandal' would just make me laugh. They wouldn't be in a scandal if they hadn't done something scandalous.

"A search was made at once not only of his person but of his room and of every portion of the house where he could possibly have concealed the gems; but no trace of them could be found, nor would the wretched boy open his mouth for all our persuasions and our threats."

When would he have had time to hide them that well, considering he was still holding the coronet when you found him? Also, if he is, as I suspect, covering for Mary, then he's probably sure he's doing the noble and honourable thing by protecting her reputation or whatever.

"My God, what shall I do! I have lost my honour, my gems, and my son in one night. Oh, what shall I do!”

Well, maybe you start by inventing time travel to go back and tell your past self to do better.

Tbf, regarding his mental state, if I had, through my own fault, lost/damaged an object someone had entrusted to me that was worth ten million pounds, particularly someone with as much power as the Prince of Wales, I would be in a catatonic state. So yeah. But also, any sympathy I have had for Mr Holder has been lost at every single step of this process. Why does the bank not have a vault for this purpose? Why did he take it home when he didn't have anywhere safe to put it? Why did he tell anyone he had it? Why did he not move it after being told by his son how insecure the bureau was?

And, to back up my theory with text. Reasons I suspect Mary:

She was present during the conversation when Mr Holding told them about the coronet and where he put it.

She also heard Arthur saying how easy that bureau was to break into.

She was at the window that night for an unknown reason.

We only have her word as to the house being locked up that night.

Arthur is unwilling to say anything in his own defence, which makes me think he is covering for someone. The only person we have been given reason to believe he would protect in the text (other than maybe his father) is Mary. He could be secretly in love with Lucy, but given we already have evidence of his affection for Mary, that would be an abrupt turn.

So that's my theory: Sir George Burnwell and Mary are secret lovers and Mary, hearing about the golden opportunity her foolish uncle has presented her with, tells her lover, then either Mary or both of them, go to steal it. Arthur, who honestly might have been in there trying to get £200 for his own debts, witnesses this, attempts to stop it. The coronet is broken. Either Burnwell gets away with the jewels, or Mary does and gives them to him (through the window we saw her at earlier perhaps?) and then hears the yelling and runs upstairs just in time to give the theatrical performance of her life.

[thanksfortheflaglove]

—

[robinofinashiro]

"Feitan is going to kill me,"

characters/fandom: feitan portor / hunter x hunter

request status/note: closed / the absolute love of my life !! i haven't written for him in a while, i kinda missed him lmao

pronouns: she/her/afab!

"aw! i wanted to watch Feitan get stabby with the guy he kidnapped!" you complained as you groaned and dramatically falling onto the ground. Chrollo rolled his eyes, not understanding why in the world you enjoyed watching his second in command get torturous with people, "we need you for this next mission. it isn't too far from where we're currently stationed; however, you're going to need a partner for this," he informed you.

you looked around, hoping Feitan would be available but Chrollo cut you off before you could ask, "it's in the heart of city. we need our two most talkative members and that's you and Shalnark," he explained. you stared at the blond who in turned smiled back, "the two of you are to act as a couple. there's an artifact we need you both retrieve that's hidden behind a club. both of you are to pretend you're married and retrieve the artifact before the club closes," Chrollo continued.

you slammed your hands on the table in annoyance.

"why can't it be Machi or Shizuku to be his date. I hate parties," you complained. Chrollo stared at you before rolling his eyes and not bothering to entertain the tantrum you were throwing, "we made more than enough money in our last mission for the two of you to purchase proper attire for the event. I'd suggest you get to a store before they close and as last minute advice, I'd wear something more revealing."

your face contorted to absolute disgust as you figured you'd be wearing clothes you would not purchase otherwise for yourself. you looked to Shalnark who still hadn't said a word and stood in front of him.

"you say any smart shit about what I wear and I'll kill you," you heard Phinks start to laugh as you stared at the other blond, ready to throw a knife that was strapped your leg, "that goes for all of you!" you exclaimed making sure you stared at the entire group before grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

you knew Chrollo was very clear on instructions and since you were still relatively new to troupe, you weren't willing to sacrifice your spot just because of a stupid choice of clothing.

since your start with the Phantom Troupe, you had grown closer to Feitan which managed to catch a lot of the members off guard. if Feitan was rude, cold, and a sadist, you were the complete opposite in terms of personality. you were a happy-go-lucky gal, ready to conversate with anyone who listened which is maybe why you figured Shalnark was the one who got paired with you because the two of you could blend easily into a crowd.

you saw an outlet not too far out of the hideout and entered the first store you saw. you weren't really someone who put their mind into a "cute" outfit. since the troupe was always on the move, you didn't exactly have the time to get dolled up. it would be worthless to do such a thing considering your clothes could get ruined at any time.

the clothes were way out of your comfort zone as everything was either too revealing or extremely expensive. you had to give props to the girls who wore this kind of stuff because had it not been for this mission, there was no way you'd be confident in wearing it.

you picked what you assumed was a cute outfit. it was a cropped shirt with v lined collar, reaching down to your mid stomach and revealing your tits like it was their job. you paired the shirt with a skirt that went up to your mid thigh and random high heels. as soon as you left the store, you went to the nearest cafe and purchased an insane amount of food that you knew you'd need after the mission.

"hey! you're back quicker than I thought," Shalnark said as you walked back inside of the hideout. you raised your eyebrow as you noticed Shalnark's own black bag, "you'd you get?" you asked, reaching over to grab the bag. he lifted it up, not letting you be in arms reach of it, "it's a suit! but you better get dressed. Chrollo wants us out of here in two hours," he informed.

you kicked Shalnark in the shin, making him double over in pain.

"don't tell me what do to," you muttered making Phinks and Machi giggle to themselves. you went towards the room that you were currently staying in with Shizuku. you knew she was going to be on her mid evening nap so she wasn't going to bother you too much.

you grabbed the clothes out of the bag and stared at them, groaning to yourself dramatically. you quickly tried to do your hair in a better style than the ponytail you had going on but it just managed to fall flat and you realized you were better off just leaving it down.

after you finished with your hair, you slipped on the clothes you had bought and stared at yourself with the broken glass that was near you. the outfit wasn't terrible looking on you but you knew one of two things was bound to happen. you knew you'd be getting comments, whether they be good or bad, from the troupe and the unsolicited stares that were bound to happen when they finally saw you.

"looks good!" Shizuku murmured sleepily. you smiled at her nervously, "Feitan isn't going to be happy about it but it looks good." you knew Shizuku had a point with that. since you and Feitan were closer than the rest of the members, he had this not so subtle possessiveness over you and you knew he was not going to be a happy camper when he saw you.

you gave yourself one final look as you heard Shalnark screaming for you. you grabbed your bag before walking out of the room. you inhaled deeply as you approached the kitchen area of the hideout where everyone was congregated at.

the entire troupe were stunned at the clothes as Phinks made it no secret that he was practically drooling over you. you snapped your fingers in front of everyones face as Chrollo, Phinks, Feitan, and Shalnark shook their head to get out of their apparent trance.

"what did I say, any smart comment and even Chrollo gets it," you stated. they nodded as Chrollo approached you. "you look beautiful and that's not a compliment I give out easily; however, that's not the point at the moment. we have microphones that are attached to these ear pieces. we'll be inside of this club as well but we won't be making ourselves known until you get the artifact. you'll be listening to our instructions on when it's safe to head towards the backroom to retrieve the item. you'll need to blend in with the crowd and make sure not to be seen much. understand?"

you and Shalnark nodded as he playfully put his arm around your shoulder and squeezing your upper arm enthusiastically. you stared at him annoyedly before Feitan returned the shin kink you had given Shalnark earlier.

"hands to self," he stated, giving the blond a deathly stare. you laughed, not wanting to make the situation worse and opened the door, "lets get a move on. the faster we get the artifact, the quicker I'll be out of these clothes," you said before leaving.

the troupe was planning on leaving a little later in the night so by the time you reached the club, they were barely on the way there. you stared at Shalnark before grabbing his hand and intertwining yours with his, "Feitan is so going to kill me," he muttered to himself nervously.

you walked inside of the club with Shalnark as the music blared through the speakers loudly. you would have been more inclined to dance had the music not been as sensual as it was but you remembered Chrollo's warning about not wanting to stick out, "do not make it weird," you threatened, sticking your finger on Shalnark's chest before turning around and dancing against him.

Shalnark's eyes widened as you tried not to be stiff about the dancing, "I can't do this sober. come on, we're getting tequila," you said practically dragging Shalnark over to the bar. you ordered four shots of tequila, pressuring Shalnark to down them like it was water so he wouldn't gag over the bar counter.

you then ordered two regular drinks to make sure that you weren't 100% sober when you went out back to dance. as you took Shalnark back onto the dance floor, you had realized most of the troupe members were already inside, watching you and Shalnark from different corners of the building. you could practically feel Feitan's eyes burning into your back.

"it's alright, she'll be sucking fingers all night. wearing those shoes, oh any excuse to go to the gang fight and oh she's alright, everybody says she's uptight, sick in the head, first in the bed, so easy to be Friday's nightmare."

you were singing along to the song as you were getting closer to Shalnark's face, much to Feitan's dismay, "now's your chance you move closer back. go!" you heard Chrollo's voice. you grabbed Shalnark's hand, bringing him closer to the room that Chrollo said the artifact would be at.

"you look great tonight!" Shalnark said as he smiled down at you. you knew with your boobs being so exposed, Shalnark was having a hard time not staring down at them which made you chuckle, "thanks Shal! I appreciate it," you replied as you heard curse words spewing from Feitan's native language as he yelled at Shalnark to shut up.

you laughed, seeing the guard that was protecting the door moving towards the bathroom. you nudged Shalnark, motioning to him that now was your only chance to run in and grab it. he walked behind you, making sure that the guard wouldn't return in the middle of you looking for the artifact.

you ripped through the massive amounts of cabinets until you reached a locked cabinet. you took the pin that was in your hair, easily breaking into the cabinet and seeing the gold ring that Chrollo needed. before you could put it away, you heard Shalnark attack the guard as you realized that cover was about to be blown.

putting the ring inside of one of your stockings, you grabbed your knife and ran out to help Shalnark. you jumped on the guards back as you stabbed him in the chest, making sure to turn the knife a few times so it would remain stuck inside of his body.

"give the ring to Machi," you heard Chrollo scream as he fought off the other guards that were approaching the two of you. you nodded, giving the pink haired girl the ring before jumping back to dodge the knife attack. before you could comprehend what was going on, you felt Feitan pull you against him as you grabbed your the gun that was on your other leg and quickly shot it at an oncoming guard.

all of you fled the building through different areas, getting out as safely as possible. you had no idea which direction the others went in but you were too confused on Feitan who was popping off with anger like a hedgehog.

"this is stupid," he muttered as he pulled you against him now, "first you leave like this, next Shalnark is saying stupid things, and now you're clothes is ripped," he stated. you hadn't realized that you clothes had gotten ripped in the process, leaving you almost with nothing.

"are you jealous Fei?" you asked jokingly. he stared at you, annoyance written all over his face as he remained silent. you stared at the black haired man as you took off your heels which made you marginally shorter, practically nearing his height (shoutout to all my fellow short queens bc i'm actually feitans height lmao).

Feitan before you realized it had pulled you in for a steaming kiss. you let him do what he wanted as his hands were shaking and you had no idea if it was from rage or the adrenaline rush that was still in his body but regardless, you were melting quicker and quicker into the kiss.

you had no idea when he had moved down to your neck but before you could pull away, you felt the bump on your neck as tiny bite marks appeared alongside it. you could feel that you were bleeding a bit but all Feitan did was smirk at the forming hickey.

"remember that next time Shalnark tries something against you."

[gxdsetmxnsters]

Reaper

Batman x RWBY Crossover Pardoy Fic

A/N: this basically is a rewrite of the beginning of the first episode of RWBY, though obviously slightly different. I hope that you enjoy reading this story! This was originally posted on fanfiction.net under one of our accounts.

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Two weeks of planning and Riddler was almost positive that he and Scarecrow would be able to pull off the robbery and get what they needed. They actually weren't going to be robbing the store, at least that wasn't their actual plan. They had heard rumors about the vigilante Reaper, someone that was so mysterious and so elusive that no one knew who they were. Naturally this raised Riddlers interest, he couldn't resist a good riddle.

Now, standing in an alleyway several yards away from the shop they had set their sights on, Riddler double checked that everything was in place. Scarecrow was saying something to the thugs that they had hired and then turned to Riddler.

"Why do I have to be the one that stays in the shadows?" he asked.

"Because," Riddler said, "we need someone who's extremely intelligent on the front. I am after all, the most intelligent person in the world."

"You keep telling yourself that," Scarecrow said, patting Riddler on the shoulder. He pulled on his mask and made sure that the Fear Toxin was ready.

"I don't understand why Joker wants this Reaper person anyways," he said, his voice slightly muffled.

"Reaper, whoever they are, is exceptionally good at avoiding the cops," Riddler replied. "They're also very close to crossing the line into villainy. Do you know why they call this person Reaper? It's because they're rumored to be carrying around a scythe."

"A scythe?" Scarecrow scoffed. "So? That's just a small thing."

"Don't ever estimate it," Riddler snapped, getting annoyed. "Let's just get this over with."

He motioned for the Henchmen to follow him and walked out of the alley, cane in hand. Truthfully, Riddler had no idea if this so called Reaper would even show. Joker said that it was highly possible since they'd been spotted a few times in this area of Gotham. But anything that Joker said Riddler usually took it like a grain of salt. He had to agree (grudgingly) that any lead was better than no lead.

Riddler walked out of the shadows of the alleyway and down the street, four of the hired henchmen trailing behind him. People gasped and edged away when they saw him, their eyes filling with fear. Lucky for them, they weren't the targets. In any other day they might've, but not this time. No, he had much more interesting prey to catch.

Reaching the store that was their target, Riddler threw open the door of the weapons store. It was good for them, that one it was still open, and two, they could easily replenish their weapon stock. Get two things done in the same trip.

The henchmen gawked and looked around in mild amazement and Riddler had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Of course those henchmen have only ever done a job by breaking into a place, not walking in. Such Simpletons they were! Not much better than cattle. But, they were useful, easy to be thrown under the bus, or to keep with the metaphor, led to slaughter.

The only person that he could visibly see was the old store keeper who eyed him with weariness. The man's receding grey hair stuck out at weird angles and his face was a map of lines and crevices.

Riddler walked up to the counter and braced his hands on his cane in front of him.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a weapons shop open this late?" he asked.

One of the henchmen pulled out a gun and aimed it at the old man who raised his hands in surrender. At least the man was smart enough to do that.

"Please, just take the money and leave," the man said. Obviously he didn't know what was really valuable.

"Calm down," Riddler said, raising a gloved hand. The man flinched. "We're not here for the money."

He let the man have a split second of relief before jerking his chin at the henchmen. "Grab the weapons."

As the henchmen scattered off, Riddler turned back to the shop keeper. "Riddle me this," he began, "The man who invented it, doesn't want it for himself. The man who bought it, doesn't need it for himself. The man who needs it, doesn't know it when he needs it."

The old man stared blankly at him, the only sounds be that of the henchmen making a bit too much noise while gathering the weapons.

"A coffin," Riddler said softly watching the man's face grow pale. "And that's what you'll end up in if you don't do as I say, if you're lucky enough to even make it into a coffin. Understand?"

The man gave a quick nod.

Near the back of the shop, one of the henchmen was hunting around for a particular weapon that he wanted to keep from himself when he heard music coming from his left. Turning, he saw a red cloaked figure standing near a magazine stand. The figure was short and slight, what was a child doing here? Eh, it wasn't his problem.

"Alright kid," he said, pulling out his gun. "Put your hands where I can see them."

The henchman got no response from the figure. He scowled and stepped closer. "Hey! I said hands in the air!"

Still no response. Letting out a frustrated sigh, the henchman stalked towards the figure. "Hey, do you have a death wish or something?" He pulled the figure's hood back and they turned.

"Huh?"

The henchman was met with the clear gaze of a young black haired, silver eyed girl. She had headphones on, which explained why she hadn't heard him. A girl though, a mere child was standing there. This was almost too easy. The henchman pointed to his ears and the girl took of her headphones.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I said, put your hands in the air! Now!"

"Are you," the girl squinted, "robbing me?"

"Yes!" The henchman yelled half exasperated half mad.

"Ahhh."

Riddler was leaning against the counter making sure that the store keeper didn't do anything that would lower his IQ. He didn't particularly care what the henchmen did, the weapons weren't the reason they had come.

He turned when he heard one of the henchmen yell before he saw that thug get thrown across the room. The henchman crashed into a display stand, knocking it over. What an idiot. Another henchman that was staining nearby looked at Riddler for permission, at least one thing that this simpleton did right, and Riddler gave him the go ahead.

The henchman rushed off and Riddler had a moment of peace to contemplate his next move. It was possible that who'd ever thrown the first henchman was Reaper, but it could've been anyone.

He heard the thug yell "freeze" a truly useless thing is to do, didn't they know that 90% of the time when you yelled "freeze" the person tended to not do that?

Riddler looked up again when he saw a flash of red fly past him out of the corner of his eye. Whipping his head to follow the moment, he only saw a red clad figure crash though the store's front display window. He smirked, looks like they hit the jackpot, because he was 98% sure, no, he was 100% positive that red clad person was the one they were looking for.

The henchmen looked out the now broken window to see a a young girl, land in a crouch in the middle of the street. She pulled something from her belt and a scythe, taller than her by quite a bit unfurled. It's red and black coloring matching the girls clothing.

Riddler couldn't believe it. This girl, was the feared Reaper? The very one they'd been searching for? This had to be a joke. But it wasn't, Riddler realized. It wasn't a joke. The few sightings and descriptions of Reaper nearly matched that of the girl standing out in the street.

The girl, no, Reaper, stood up her red cloak moving gently with the wind. She looked at Riddler and his henchmen, the huge scythe balanced on her shoulder. She gave it a twirl. With a crash, the scythe hit the pavement, leaving an indent.

"What the hell is that!?" one of the henchmen yelled.

"It's a scythe," Riddler said with an eye roll. Didn't the Simpleton realize that? Though it seemed a bit more complicated than just a simple scythe.

"It's also a customizable high impact sniper rifle," Reaper added, "don't you know anything?"

Riddler gritted his teeth. To say that he, the smartest being alive didn't know anything!?

"A what?" the henchman asked confused.

"It's also a gun."

"...ok..." Riddler said, assessing the new predicament. He looked at the henchmen that were just standing there.

"Get her."

The henchmen rushed off through the door no less, and into the street. Reaper met the first one head on, leaping up with one hand braced on her scythe and kicked him in the face. Using that momentum, she tore the scythe from the ground and landed neatly on her feet.

One of the henchmen rushed her from behind but she quickly acted. Giving a slight twist, Reaper pushed something on the scythe's handle and a gunshot sounded, the noise echoing off of the buildings that lined the street. Using the backlash to her advantage, she smacked the henchman with the flat of the scythe's curved blade. Or was it the edge? Riddler couldn't tell because it happened so fast.

Bringing the blade up above her head, Reaper whirled around and brought it down upon the second henchman, stabbing him through the gut. The man let out a cough of blood before flopping down; dead.

So she didn't acknowledge human lives then, Riddler mused. If they could get her in their side then they'd gain a formable ally. Of course if she didn't... no, they had to make her one of them. There was no alternative.

Riddler watched in mild fascination as Reaper used a combination of backlash from her weapon and the surrounding area to quickly make work of the last remaining henchman. Four of Penguins best henchmen. Taken out in less than ten minutes by a girl. Riddler was sorely impressed.

The last henchman skidded across the pavement and landed a few feet from where Riddler was standing. Riddler's eyes scanned the area for Scarecrow. He didn't see him, but the cry of a crow, was heard from a nearby rooftop. Typical of him to not show until the very end, bird call was proof of that. He'd just stick her with a needle, inject the fear toxin, and then claim all the credit for Reaper's capture. He had to act fast though, the wail of sirens could be heard several blocks away. They were far, but closing in fast.

"You were worth every cent. Truly, you were," Riddler said, kicking the fallen man aside.

"Well, 'Reaper'," Riddler said, pointing his cane at her. He hit a secret button that'd allow him to deal a damaging blow that'd knock Reaper out. "I think we can all say it's been an eventful evening. And as much as I'd love to stick around, I'm afraid this is where we part ways."

Of course that was a lie, Riddler had no intention of "parting ways" with this one, not in the slightest. But he's lead Reaper into a trap and make quick work of her before Scarecrow could do anything.

Pressing the button on his cane again, Riddler sent a bolt of electricity towards Reaper. She blocked it, but since her weapon was made of metal...

No sticking around to see if Reaper had survived his attack or not, if she didn't then he'd say that problems had arisen (there would be no way that he'd admit a mistake to anyone), Riddler quickly made his way across the street to the building that had a ladder attached to its side, he and Scarecrow had planned this building as their escape route for precisely this reason.

Running across the roof Riddler paused when he heard the now all to familiar sound of Reaper's scythe/gun.

"Persistent," he muttered. But that was good. Really good. She's fallen directly into their trap.

"Hey!" Reaper yelled.

Riddler turned with a smirk. He noticed Scarecrow peel himself off of the wall he'd been leaning against in the shadows and quietly stalk across the roof behind her.

"Riddle me this:" Riddler began, "I wear clothes, but I'm not a human. I work in a field, but I'm not a farmer. I was in a movie where one of my best friends was an animal. I stand on a pole, but I'm not an Arctic explorer. I keep birds away, but I'm not a cat. I'm a mannequin, but I'm not found in a clothes store. What am I?"

Reapers eyes widened in realization, a second to late.

"End of the line, Reaper!" Riddler yelled just as Scarecrow lunged forward and sank a needle into the side of her neck. She slumped against him, her weapon falling to the ground with a thump.

"Planning on talking her to death Eddie?" Scarecrow said with a smirk, or at least Riddler assumed it was, it was hard to tell with Scarecrow's mask on.

"The party's not over yet, Johnny," Riddler hissed. "There are the police to contend with."

"True true," Scarecrow said, picking up Reaper. "I didn't expect the famed Reaper to be female, much less a girl."

"You weren't the only one," Riddler said.

"Oh? So the famous, "I know everything" Riddler is saying that he didn't know something?"

"Shut up, Riddler scowled, walking over and picking up the scythe. He nearly dropped it, it was so heavy. Just how the hell did Reaper manage to carry it? Much less wield it with such control and power? Just another thing for him to figure out the answer to.

"Let's get out of here," he said to Scarecrow, before stomping off, scythe in hand.