#what if someone else had found him first? what if someone called public security and shinra came to 'investigate?'

[rocketbirdie]

fateful encounter

[goldsbitch]

the last time I pick you up

Moving blues hits hard. Y/N and Lando are finally letting go of her old apartment, which brings out strong emotions, that you need to burn out somehow.

warning: smut, no protection

It's been long time coming - finally moving together after countless times of flipping a coin to determine which apartment you and Lando would spend your free hours and sometimes even days.

His place was spacious and the location was obviously the biggest asset. But god, was it close to an empty wasteland. True "lad's" apartment, up to a point you were surprised he had a bed (without a bed frame, of course...). Your place was a true home - decorations, pillows, candles and full stacked skincare. Even though it lacked in size and the plumbing was more than questionable, it had a soul and you'd poured loved into your rented apartment over the time you'd spend there.

However, it was becoming clear that your relationship stable and secure enough to get rid of one side of the logistics equation that was dating a racing driver.

So, moving it was. They say moving is one of the most stressful mundane experience in one's life and you couldn't agree more. You were stripped of the usual duties, because Lando insisted about him paying for premium movers and you didn't object for more than 30 seconds.

But the sentimental "last visit" is something you can't pay someone to do for you. The walk through the memory lane was all up to you.

After few hours you were almost done sorting things out into two piles, one would join you in Lando's apartment, the other one was being left behind for someone else to get over to a charity shop.

When Lando finally came to pick you up, he found you sitting on the floor, knee deep in the cocktail of conflicting emotions.

"Baby? You here?" he called before entering the living room. You looked up at him, weak tears rolling in you eyes, unable to speak at first.

Lando stopped when he saw you, surprised at finding you sitting on the floor like that and then immediately went to sit sit next to you and hug you.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, half concerned, half confused.

You tried to surpress the wet drops in your eyes. This was stupid anyway, right? After few moments of Lando's confused look and his hand on your cheek, you finally looked back at him.

"This is the last time you pick me up here," you said in a low tone and it was like you took the lid of your memories.

The first night he spent here, the first one you talked through, unable to stop the conversation, the many nights he fucked you senselessly and hours spent cuddling under the bedsheets.

The way how this apartment provided you a safe space in the first weeks when you dated, hidden safely from the harsh judgy look the public imposed on you so cruelly at the beginning.

You got to know him here. Waited impatiently many times for his key to finally click in the front door, his tired post-race face, often still holding marks from his helmet, because he would jump on the plane the first thing, just get back to you for few hours. You remember how you laughed, when he insisted on installing his weird neck exercise device, because it meant he could spend more time with you. He tried to teach you how to assist him, and then laughed at you, because you were just so naturally bad at this stuff.

You recall the one afternoon when you came back from a meeting and found him sitting in your bathtub, which was filled up with slowly melting ice-cubes. His argument was, that he needed a post work out ice bath and there was nothing like that around where you lived. This time it was you who laughed, when you saw how much ice he had to buy. Lando was a cheeky guy, so once he got out of the ice bath, he chased you around your apartment, naked, with the intention to snuggle you into his cold, icy embrace.

Lando was taken back by the glassy look in your stoic face. "I know. But, if you look at it from a different perspective, this is the last time I pick you up. From now on, we'll be meeting at our home." He spoke slowly, perhaps to make his words more impactful.

You smiled, knowing well enough that was the best part of it. Still, the melancholy lingered in stronger way then you'd have ever expected.

"No more of that weird lady upstairs who always gave me angry looks after I fucked you hard," he tried to lighten up the mood, which worked and you let out a snort laugh while wiping small tears from your cheeks.

"Yeah, I am definitely not going to miss that," you said, yet still there was a sense of leaving a part of your life behind, a part that you would adorn for the rest of your life. The only hope you had that you and Lando would be able to continue on making priceless memories anywhere the two of you were.

"Y/N, I think it's time to finish sorting the stuff out and grab something to eat. We can go that favorite café of yours," he suggested after few moments of silence.

You took a deep breath. "Yes, I'd love that," you turned to him and gave a light peck on his lips. Lando immediately turned that into a deep french kiss, which took you by surprise a little. He was never a words person and you could finally feel from the way how he kissed you so eagerly, that he was also emotional about this move.

"You're the love of my life," you said the signature sentence you two developed naturally, instead of saying a simple I love you.

"And you're mine," he responded with the signature assurance that followed that sentence.

//

The two of you slowly arrived to the point where most of the stuff was sorted, decisions were made and it was time to say goodbye.

A shock of sudden anxiety ran through you. "Lando. I still don't have the necklace." He knew well enough which one you were talking about. It was the first one he ever gave you and one that you held so dearly that it made him proud. But still, in his eyes it was just an object. One that you misplaced and could not find for weeks now.

"It's probably at my apartment anyway," he said, trying to let you go of it. He already had a replacement ordered anyway.

"Let me just check under the bed. Haven't looked there yet," you said and strolled over to the now stripped bed. He watched you, as you bent over in your cute summer dress that casually showed the curve of your ass as you searched under the bed. There was something so primal for him about seeing you like that.

"Y/N, you know this is a very dangerous move from your part, right?" he said, leaning over the door frame and enjoying the view.

"Come on, Lando," you laughed, as you desperately kept looking for the necklace, with no luck whatsoever. "This is serious."

"Oh, I never said anything different," he smirked, letting his thoughts run into one place and one place only.

"Omg, Lando!" you screamed, in a very different tone, alerting him immediately.

"What?" he asked, tuning into your worry. You got up with a horrified face, as if you'd just seen a ghost. Unable to speak, you just stared at him.

"What?" he repeated, less seriously this time. Knowing you, it must have been nothing.

"Oh my god, I am going to get in so much trouble with the landlord!"

He looked at you sheepily. "Do I have to look there myself or are you going to tell me?"

You closed your eyes. "The floor is like severely damaged. We're talking like, deep marks. Under all of the corners of the bed."

It took him a second to get the dots connected before his eyes went wide and the smarted smug appeared on his face. "Really?" he said proudly. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. He sneaked around you and took a quick look under the nearest bed corned.

"Ohoo, nice!," he laughed, even more proud than before. "This is from us, right?"

His smugness was a little contagious, you had to admit it. "Of course, who else Lando. In fact, that's your damage, so you're paying for it!"

He choked, taking few steps towards you. "Oh am I?"

You bit your lip, as he closed of your exit with his right arm, putting on the door frame and pushing you towards it. "Yes, you are...It's from you moving the bed."

The mood changed really quickly. You knew the look in his face well enough. He was shooting arrows, making your heartbeat faster, breath shorter and mind suddenly focused on one thing and one thing only. Having him, all the way in, wrapped around and inside of you. He pulled your chin up with his thumb and subconsciously mirror your lip biting. At this point, you were completely pushed to the door frame, his torso pulling into your. "Well, if I'm already paying for damages, I think I deserve to make it count, one last time," he said and moved his hand over to your chest, causing you to let out a breath out. He knew well enough what kind of an effect he had on you. Few moments of painfully arousing eye contact and you finally put your hands behind his neck and kissed him again. With the energy only young adults have, he twisted his tongue with yours, bit your lip gently and in the meantime picked you up and moved you the short distance over to the bed. Your thoughts were all wrapped up around how great his body felt, how his intoxicated smell completely clouded your mind and how you'll get to have him on this old bed of yours for one last time.

He didn't even bother taking your dress off, he just pushed it up and started working you up with his fingers. This high he gave you was a familiar ground at this point. And most possibly your absolutely most favorite place on this planet. While sharing messy kisses and loosing yourself in the growing pleasure, you went to unbuckle his belt and stroke him slowly. He didn't wait long before he pulled back to take his shorts off and you finally had full access. You stroked him few times, before he pinned your arms above your head. "My bills, my playground," he said and his hands began to roam your body all the way down to the hem of your dress. He didn't even bother taking your underwear off, just pushed it to the side and slid into you, like he had hundreds times before. Flashes of the countless encounters you've had on this bed flashed like a film in your mind. You loved this man. He was the ultimate drug for you. Intoxicating above levels you could have ever imagined. If there ever was a home, if was right there - with him inside you. He pushed slowly few times before finally slamming into you full speed, full force, knowing well enough it was what you craved anyway. Hot breath was only cut with the symphony your soft moans and sounds the squeaky bed made. Lando held your legs pressed up to your stomach, while you hugged your chest, making your tits pushed up for him to kiss occasionally. You reached your high twice before he released himself onto your dress and collapsed next to you. Short of breath, the two of you still kissed. "Sorry for the dress," he said apologetically and you had to laugh a little. For this feeling you'd stain anything you ever owned.

"I know you have a thing for leaving traces behind, baby," you replied, being guilty of using this little kink of his to your advantage many times in the past.

He bit his lip and brushed his nose agains yours. "Guilty as charged."

Your breath was slowly coming back to a regular tempo. "I should get changed before we go," you said, intent on leaving soon.

His hand locked you in as he traced lined on your hips. "Let's stay just a little. I'm going to miss the way how we made this bed squeaky over time," he said, making you smile and blush.

[nebbyy]

Please write a fanfic about King Baldwin IV from KoH, where he fell in love with female reader. The plot is up to you. Please make it a serious love story with slight fluff 🤗🤭

Baldwin IV x reader - Life always comes down to a game of chess

A/N: You have no idea how much I love you anon, this was one of the prompts I already wanted to write omgggg!! For this fic I kinda got inspired by this painting (which, for everyone interested, it’s “La belle dame sans merci” by Frank Dicksee), and you’ll see how and why reading it;)

Summary: King Baldwin IV receives an offer from an Italian nobleman to marry his daughter; unsure of whether to accept or not this compelling offer, Baldwin decides to do what he does best…

Warning: there are some mentions of christianity and religious references along with some hints at the misogynistic ideologies of the time (about the woman being “owned” by the dominant male figure in her life) ((I don’t condone this ideology at all but I thought it’d be fitting to add it anyway to give some accuracy to it)).

Word count: 2637

King Baldwin couldn’t quite wrap his head around you. The day that he was informed of your engagement, he felt himself quite skeptical of the idea of marrying someone. After all, ever since his leprosy had been diagnosed he had to get used to the idea of living a life of solitude, forced into a lifelong chastity, for no sane man would ever marry off their daughter to a leper. With time, he had found solace in nurturing his own knowledge and virtue, elevating himself to a level of wisdom that very few could boast at his young age.

During the following days, the young king's mind was plagued with thoughts, considerations he was making to weigh the choice. The benefits of marrying Lady Y/N were many, first and foremost securing a connection to the land of Italian speakers, allowing for easier trafficking of crusaders arriving in the Holy Land, not to mention the abundance that would be the young lady's dowry. And not only did marrying her mean strengthening the economical side of his reign, but it also meant giving the impression to the public that the king's health condition was improving to such an extent that he considered that to be an ideal time to marry. His most trusted men and all of his advisors kept repeating to him, marrying Lady Y/N would’ve been  comparable to a blessing.

But despite all the benefits this union seemed like it would bring, Baldwin continued to hesitate to make a decision. What left him so undecided was the possibility that this was some kind of deception, a conspiracy orchestrated against him, hidden in the form of the most convenient of marriages. It was up to him to decide whether it was worth taking these risks in favor of the benefits that would come if his concerns turned out to be unfounded. 

Like everything else in his life, this choice came down to a game of chess…

It was this idea that prompted him to make a decision. Baldwin had a messenger called, to be sent to Pisa to give the news to Lord Y/F/N that the king wished to report his decision to him live, at his court. For the lord to arrive it would have to wait, but Baldwin has always been a man of exceptional patience.

Four months passed, when at the dawn of Lent it was announced by a Pisan messenger that Lord Y/F/N and his daughter had come to Acre, and would soon be coming to Jerusalem. Another week passed before father and daughter, riding two white horses and accompanied by an escort of knights arrived at the royal palace.

When he first saw you, Baldwin could have sworn he saw Mary himself. You walked with such grace that you almost seemed to float. Your face looked serene, despite the anxiety that had been devouring you from within ever since the day the invitation from the king of Jerusalem reached you; a blue veil covered your hair, framing your face and falling over your shoulders. You bowed to Baldwin as was proper to do before a king, yet he felt so tempted to interrupt you, prevent you from bowing to him, perhaps even bowing to you himself.

At that moment he felt like Lancelot before Guinevere, completely mesmerized by your beauty, one who seemed more fit to an angel than a woman. But, he gave no sign of his true emotional state; after all, a gorgeous woman does not mean she can be fit to serve as queen. Her answer will be decided when she has had a chance to hear you speak, away from the judgmental stares of the court, free from any influence that might change what you really think.

As the sun shone bright in the sky, the banquet took place inside of the palace. The king excused himself before going to eat by himself in his chambers as usual, leaving his guests in the company of his sisters and his court. Loud chatter filled the room, goblets were raised to get more wine poured, courses flowed onto the set table, a tribute to thank Lord Y/F/N for making such a journey to fulfill the king's request. All this noise, yet in your ears all became quiet when a servant approached your chair, whispering a few simple words, "The king has requested your presence at dinner."

Your blood froze in your veins in surprise, and you could almost feel your father's thrill as you rose from your seat, having the servant guide you toward the king's study. Walking through the halls of the palace, you could do nothing but feel so small in comparison, you almost seemed to disappear, enveloped by the magnificence of everything around you that, if all went well, you would have called your own.

You were brought back to reality when the heavy doors of the king's room were opened by the two guards who stood at his sides. An enveloping fragrance, a mixture of myrrh and frankincense filled your senses with a feeling of serenity, an almost familiar feeling. In the center of the room, a hooded figure, dressed in silk as white as snow. "Come forward, my lady. I apologize for my absence at the table but," she interjected for a moment, rising from her seat and revealing her face-or at least, what was not covered by the veil-"many might find my appearance somewhat...disturbing during a meal." He chuckled a little at that last part. You wondered if irony had become a kind of means for him to soften his own hellish condition. 

As soon as he turned around you could not help but study the appearance of what will hopefully be your future husband. Rumors about his condition had been swirling since the day he was crowned, so you had been prepared to be confronted with a horrifically disfigured man. Instead, although part of his face was covered by the thin veil, it was like an instinct for you to try to study his features. You could vaguely make out the golden hair that adorned his face, although it was covered by the veil. His voice had intrigued you; it sounded so jovial and yet so deep. A melody that sang of the young monarch's endeavors. It intrigued you, you wondered what his lips looked like, whether they matched the sound of his voice.

But what really caught your interest were his eyes. They were blue, but of a color so deep, so intense, it reminded you of tales you had heard about the northern seas, of the waters that dark and deep seemed to beckon sailors, to lead them to drown within them. Likewise you felt mesmerized by such intensity. And you wondered, how much of this would remain the same as his illness progressed.

You recovered from that momentary trance, wasting no time to bow, but this time Baldwin stopped you before you were able to bow more than your head: "Don't bow, please. Such reverences are not necessary here." You looked at him a little dumbfounded, but despite the king's unusual attitude you did not object. He stepped to the side, revealing a finely decorated chessboard, with all the pawns already set in place. "Do you play?" he asked softly, and you finally mustered up the courage to speak "It's been some time since I last did," as you approached the table, taking your seat opposite Baldwin. He took his seat again, and for the first time in your life you found yourself face to face with a king. 

You quickly realised that he had assigned you the white pawns, the small courtesy of moving you first. You took a moment to think of an initial strategy, and moved your first pawn. A horse. Baldwin raised his eyebrows, surprised by your decision. "Aren't you going to move the pawns first?" You kept your gaze on the chessboard, partly out of respect and partly out of fear, still unsure why the king would call you to his chambers, if indeed it was all just to have a playmate. "I always prefer to start with the horse. I like to think that the pawns would be frightened to charge against the enemy without a knight to guide them." You looked up, meeting his eyes that studied you intrigued. Chuckling at what you had just said, you continued, shaking your head slightly, "Forgive me, it was just a silly thought."

"Not at all, my lady," he replied, studying your every detail, "I find it fascinating." It was his turn to move, and as per rule, he moved one of the pawns, the one in front of the queen. "So you think good leadership is better than letting the individual decide for himself?" There was a spark that had lit up in his eyes, something playful. It was clear that you were intriguing him, surprisingly in your eyes, since you had been instructed to stay behind your father's shadow, not to express your thoughts or externalize your ideologies.

Everything had to be perfect, one could not risk the futile mind of a young woman ruining the marriage that would have been so beneficial to her dukedom, but above all to her family. Yet at that moment she felt that expressing what resided in her own mind was exactly what Baldwin wanted from her. Something lit up in her too, and he in turn caught the same spark in her eyes. Could it be that she had figured out the trick...? 

Another pawn moved, it was Baldwin's turn to move again. Your eyes seldom parted from each other, just for that moment necessary to make your own move. "Independence is not always what benefits a man. Certainly, it is tempting, but in moments of indecision it risks leading to oblivion. An infantryman needs a leader, a young man who is lost in the woods needs a hunter to guide him out..." Another move, the white bishop points directly at the black king "...an indecisive man needs an outside opinion to make his decision."

You smiled, and like the sweetest of plagues you infected him too. You had deciphered his little deception. An innocent deception, with the purpose of seeing with your own eyes how you, in a condition so similar to what is the duty of a sovereign, would have acted. 

After all, his life always came down to a game of chess....

"So you understood..." Baldwin whispered, again sitting in his place. For the first time in his memory, someone had managed to leave him speechless. His witty mind seemed to have died out all of a sudden, the knight in him unarmed by the woman sitting in front of him. Maybe the deception wasn’t as occult as he had planned, or maybe this young lady was really able to stand up to him.

You smiled at him proudly, be proud of your intuition but also relieved that your thought had not turned out to be foolish. Your pride had removed from your mind every rule, every admonition that had been given to you from the moment you set foot in the Holy Land; your mind was now like a river in flood, finally free to flow out according to its natural course. "I do not blame you, my lord. I realize that this is a difficult choice for you, and that the factors at stake go far beyond your individual will."

"And what do you think about that?" Your smile acquired a bittersweet scent, and you answered without almost hesitation: "I am only a woman, my will is that of my father and it will be of my husband. My family prays that this role will be filled by you, and for this to happen I have been instructed to be fit to reign at your side."

“That I can clearly see, but what truly urges me is to know what your own will says. If we were to marry, you would be the bride to a wretched man, one whose fate has already been announced by God. My demise won't be far off, you’ll be left a widow in a foreign land. And before this… curse gets the better of me, there is no saying that it won’t get to you too. If it did, you would suffer the same fate I had been given.”

It took you a moment to let his words sink into your mind. He spoke the truth, a future with him would be filled with sickness and uncertainty; you would have to live in a court far from your home, where everyone was waiting for the king’s death like a flock of crows flying above a dying man. You took a deep breath, feeling as everything came down to this very moment. “I won’t lie to you, my lord, the future that awaits me while standing by your side is not an easy one by any means, and I’m very much aware of that. I do not expect my future to be easy, for it would be an excess of greed. So if I can have a saying in my own future, I’d like to say that I would much rather all the time that is given to me by the Lord standing by the side of a man filled with virtue, than by the side of a man too full of himself to see anything just an inch away from his reflection. There would be no greater honor for me than to stand by your side, for as long as you still have to live, my lord. And if I ever was to catch this disease as well, then I would have no other words to say other than God wills it.“

At your words, the young king had to shake himself up, now more than ever necessary for him to say something, anything really. “For you, my lady, I shall always be just Baldwin.” His tone was softer than ever, a soft breeze that reached to you and whispered I am but yours now. It was unsaid, but decided. Once this meeting would be over, the king would come to your father, and confirm his decision to accept the proposal. Only problem was, this meeting seemed to have become endless. What was supposed to be a quick meal, accompanied by a game of chess, turned into a lively exchange of political views, then silly childhood anecdotes, then again into a walk in the inner courtyard of the palace. Baldwin tried hard to keep you in his presence for as long as was deemed decent for an unmarried man and woman. He kept you with him as long as he could, and when that was no longer possible, he led you back into the great hall, gently holding your hand over his. Soon after the announcement of your engagement, the wedding was set to happen during the following Easter, and the banquet made in honor of his guests was prolonged until the sun had been long set, this time in honor of his betrothed.

You think back to that day fondly, as you lay on your bed, in the comfort of silky sheets and soft pillows. One of your hands holds your head while the others traces the patterns of the scars in your husband’s face that have considerably worsened during the years. Aside from the bed, sitting on a table, forgotten as long as the night reigned over Jerusalem, were two crowns, along with two chess pawns. A white queen and a black king. Both came from the set that had been used the day the two of you met, a reminder for Baldwin of the day God had merged your destinies in one.

A/N: wowww that came out longer than I though oopss. ANYWAY, this was my interpretation of your request, anon, hope you like it!! Also, for everyone who’s gonna read this, feel free to leave any constructive criticism since this is my first fic and I would like to improve a looot more in my writing skills. That’s it now have a nice day y’all <3<3

[bowandcurtsey]

Hello could I ask for headcanons of kuroo, sakusa and suna with an absolutely drop dead gorgeous s/o ?

Absolutely love Haikyuu requests (≧◡≦) The boys are all so cute and dorky ♡

Characters: Kuroo | Sakusa | Suna x f! reader TW: unchecked works

Kuroo Tetsuro

He calls you all the pretty names in the dictionary and beyond.

"Hello stunning flower of the galaxy”

Stares at you so much and smiles to himself wondering how is he so lucky.

When someone else stares at you, he’ll pull an arm around you and smirk at whoever’s staring, expression telling them I know, but she’s mine.

When you dress up and look extra pretty for him on date nights, he gets excited and tells you, “can’t wait to come home already~”

Also tells you he cant wait to have pretty babies with you. “Ahh I hope our kids take all your genes, cause you’re perfect”

He upkeeps himself well for you to, making sure he stays in shape and takes care of his skin.

Sometimes you laugh a little at him doing his brows. Once in awhile you’ll whine for him to accompany you awhile more and skip the gym.

“Baby, not everyone is effortlessly perfect like you” he pecks you on the lips.

Feels slightly in secure at random times. Especially when he’s stressed with other things.

But you remind him that “beauty is just something that is on the outside, it’s what inside that matters, Tetsu”

Stroke his hair, he’ll be ok in no time.

Sometimes YOU get insecure too, cause “what happens when I get old and I’m not longer pretty?”

Kuroo always has a brow lifted at you whenever you ask that question, “thank god, then I won’t have that much competitors anymore”

Sakusa Kiyoomi

He didnt like you because you were pretty in the first place. I feel like Sakusa would be the type of person that’s immune to looks.

He thinks you’re gorgeous because he’s madly in love with you.

It was only until he realise men staring at you or men asking for your number whenever you’re out, that he started to feel annoyed.

He’ll walk up to you and pull you flush to his body, giving the death stare to them.

“Don’t want any germs and viruses on you babe.”

If you’re there watching his games, and he catches people staring, he’ll be more annoyed. His spikes are harder and deadlier.

But he feels better when he hears you shout and cheer for him. He feels proud knowing that the most beautiful girl in the room only has eyes for him.

Likes it when you wear his jersey or anything shirt that shows his name to his game and he’ll try to get you vip seats so that you don’t have to squeeze with the crowd.

Well, this man doesn’t really care about what anyone else thinks so comments like “beauty and the beast” or “she is better off with” don’t really affect him. He wouldn’t have dated you if you were the type that only cared about looks.

Whether you were all dolled up or in your pjs he always found you drop dead gorgeous anyway.

Once in awhile he’ll say things like “not sure why do you bother to doll up when you’re already beautiful.”

He’s just a sweetheart.

Suna Rintaro

Can’t deny that the first time he saw you he was shocked. You really caught his attention with your beauty.

But as time went by he realised that you were not only pretty on the outside but even more beautiful on the inside.

He never really believed that you would fall for him since he felt he wasn’t really that good looking compared to others on his team but it seems that he had you falling head over heels for him.

He wasn’t bothered by people staring at you because he takes pride in watching those people’s faces when they realise this pretty girl belongs to him.

He loooooves it when you show him physical affection in public like holding onto his arms, hugging him, running towards him. He doesn’t show it on his face but the thrill he gets when he looks at other people’s face gets him on.

Of course when he sees that you’re being harrassed by other guys for like a picture or your number, he’ll just stroll up to you and pull you away.

He’s lazy to start an argument with dumb people but if really necessary you can expect the most sarcastic remarks from him.

Likes it when you wear a hoodie so he can pull the hood over your head so that “you don’t attract so much attention from those flies.” Gives you eskimo kisses when you’re in your hood hehe.

When you dress up for an occasion he blushes a little at how fucking beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you.

Takes random photos of you and posts them with no caption.

You can never feel insecure about “what if I grow old and wrinkly and am no longer pretty” when you’re with Suna.

“Good lord I dont have to protect you from those pesky dudes anymore.”

[iustitians]

ooc; assorted small Neuvillette headcanons

Various little stuff that's fun to talk about but wouldn't really fit anywhere else.

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Neuvillette has the entire legal codex of Fontaine memorized. If you call him to recite a specific point from a specific article in a specific law on the spot, he will.

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

The game never gives us a word for the thingies on his head, which drives me nuts, but oh well. Most often I will refer to them as his horns, but people are welcome to call them feelers, sensors, tentacles or whatever. In any case, they are not decorations, but rather parts of his body. He is very much not fond of people touching them, and since it’s a known fact in Fontaine, it’s generally seen as a show of blatant disrespect, even though he never bothered to make it against the law in spite of people’s expectations. To be honest, Neuvillette is not used to most forms of physical contact in general.

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

Neuvillette does not need his cane for walking, it’s first and foremost his catalyst. If he does walk with it - which he does often, out of habit - he usually defaults to supporting his right side, but he’s not consistent.

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The game never tells us where Neuvillette lives, which I choose to interpret as being because the general Fontaine populace doesn’t know either; given they don’t even know his name, it fits. Because of that I believe personally that he does not live in Palais Mermonia. My own headcanon for it is that his “home” would be deep at the bottom of the ocean, somewhere far beyond human reach, and possibly locked away in a personal domain, because I imagine he can create those.

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

In his first century as Iudex, Neuvillette did in fact survive several assassination attempts. Fontaine was very unstable and volatile after the Cataclysm and the death of Egeria, and had to undergo a process of major reform and change. As such, many did not take kindly to this stranger from nowhere coming in to immediately take one of the highest positions in the land without even having to try for it. A few times, someone was able to sneak firearms into the courtroom and shoot at him during a trial; he either was missed or shielded himself on time, but at least once he was hit – only to immediately heal himself on the spot. On one occasion a letter containing a small explosive also came to his office; the public never found out about that one. Between all those unsuccessful attempts, the resulting strengthening of security measures, and finally the attitude of Fontainians towards him changing, the assassination attempts eventually came to an end. If someone still tries to plot something nowadays, it’s usually uncovered at the planning stage and never gets far.

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

The game jokes about this once, but I believe that Neuvillette does, in fact, hoard a few types of “treasure” in a proper stereotypical dragon fashion - though his definition of the word would be different from what most would expect.

He has three main types of “hoard”:

Firstly, as a matter of a little personal whimsy, he likes collecting Lumitoile. He's a bit particular with it though - he will only pick up ones he finds dead, refusing to take their lives for the sake of his collection, or throw living creatures into a hobby stash. Using his powers, he preserves them and collects them in his domain.

The second type of hoard was initiated by his daughters – they introduced him into their “currency” system, and he wound up with a small pile of mechanical tokens as a result. He would be happy to simply give those to the Melusines, but they insist on being fair with him, something he naturally appreciates being who he is, and so he engages in trade with them, if only for their enjoyment.

And finally, he has ended up with a collection of various small memorabilia and mementos left behind or given to him by the many, many people he has worked with over the years. He continues to add on to it to this day, and in this way, even as all those people pass on and leave him behind, he has something left of them. Every item has a person and a story attached to it, and he recalls every single one without fail.

[officialleehadan]

Travel Light

Confidence Scheme

+++

“I’d like to make a small detour.”

Will was surprised by the request from Leonardo on the way back from the DoJ’s art department. The thief was settled in the passenger seat of his car, but wasn’t’ making eye contact, which suggested he was nervous about the request.

“Where to?” Will said, amiable to the request, but curious. “Grocery store?”

The joke made Leonardo chuckle as Will intended, and also made him relax. “My current safe house. As welcome as you’ve made me, I do need clothing that fits me, and I’d like my own toiletries.”

Will was pleased that Leonardo wasn’t protesting his ongoing stay with him and Vanessa, although he suspected it was as much for Will’s very potent security system as for their company. It was one thing to jump a thief in a public building. It was another to assault the home of a DoJ detective. Will even arranged surveillance on his own house, just in case someone started sniffing around.

“Give me directions or put the address into the GPS,” Wills said with a wave to the gar’s navigation. He carefully hid his excitement at getting to see where the thief lived and, presumably, worked at least some of the time. Then again, he also suspected Leonardo had at least one studio he kept secret, or leased a studio from others, to hide his tracks. He was a professional, and took covering his tracks very seriously. “Where are we going?”

“I have a flat in Little Italy.” Leonardo said, which wasn’t really a surprise considering where he was working the job that made him call Will in he first place, or his knowledge of Little Italy’s better criminal restaurants. “Don’t get too excited, Cowboy. There isn’t much there but some clothes and my bath products, and some art supplies.”

“And your tea, presumably,” Will teased, although he did accept the warning for what it was. Leonardo was too careful to let him see anywhere that meant anything to him. He might trust Will to keep him safe, but they were still on opposite sides of the law. Leonardo hadn’t stayed free and practicing his preferred flavors of crime for so long by being careless. “Speaking of, I know you do legal commissions now and then. How much will it cost me to get a portrait of Vanessa?”

“Pen or paints?”

“Whatever you prefer.”

The change of topic eased Leonardo’s tension more, and the drive, which was shorter than Will expected, delivered them to the garage of a very nice, well-secured apartment building. Leonardo keyed in a long code into the secured parking so Will could part, and then guided him to the elevators. Will wasn’t surprised to see he lived on a high floor, but preferred not to live in the penthouse. Too much attention, most likely, and harder to rent short-term, assuming the apartment was rented. It was possible Leonardo owned the condo and kept it as a safehouse.

The condo itself was elegant, but almost entirely lacking in personality. It was as much a very expensive hotel room as anything else.

Here and there were small markings of the man himself, but Leonardo wasted no time in pulling a medium-sized suitcase out of the closet. He emptied the closet first and didn’t bother folding anything on the way, before he collected a pair of books, both romance novels, Will noted with some surprise, and ducked into the bathroom. When he emerged, it was with a heavy plastic bag of his bath products, which went into the suitcase as well.

The final contribution to the suitcase, handled with far more care than the clothing or toiletries, was a neatly-packed travel-easel that boasted several drawers that rattled when Leonardo carried it over to the bed and set it carefully next to the suitcase.

Through it all, Will found himself seeking any sign of Leonardo in the condo, and found absolutely nothing. There weren't even magnets on the fridge, and when he checked inside, there was nothing but condiments and a small container of milk. The milk was bad. There was no food at all.

“Leave that stuff. I’ll have a cleaner handle it,” Leonardo said when he came out of the bedroom, dragging the suitcase with the easel carefully fastened to the top. “There are two containers of tea in he cabinet to the left of you. Grab them, will you? My hand is full.”

“I got it,” Will assured him and cleaned out the cabinet into a handy plastic bag. He noted the way Leonardo was moving, wary of his bad arm, and kept ahold of the bag when it was packed. “Do you cook at all?”

“Not here,” Leonardo said wryly and left the suitcase to do a quick sweep of the apartment. Will already knew there was nothing left to find. Leonardo, it seemed, packed very light. “But I can, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I was more judging your empty fridge.”

“I prefer takeout when I’m in a safehouse. Less opportunity for trouble at a grocery store.”

That made a good deal of sense. With takeout, he could have the deliverer leave his food outside the door, although admittedly, there was a higher chance of drugging. Presumably, that was less a concern for Leonardo, but it was a consideration.

“Fair enough,” he conceded as they made for the door. The whole stop took less than fifteen minutes. Will was impressed. No wonder he had been such a pain to try and catch. He traveled so easily, that it must take him minutes to leave a whole city, and everything in the safehouse was disposable. Even the art supplies, although it was clear Leonardo cared more for those than anything else in the apartment. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

Before Leonardo could try and take it himself, Will took the suitcase in hand and only smiled when Leonardo raised a brow. Until Leonardo was healed up, Will didn’t mind being the muscle.

it was easy. Too easy in a way that raised the hair on the back of Will’s neck.

So he was almost expecting it when a gunshot thundered through the parking garage just as he finished loading the suitcase into his trunk, and shattered the window of the car right next to Leonardo’s head.

+++

Confidence Scheme: (FULL COLLECTION)

Deliberately Careless (Subscriber Only!)

Pure Guess

Phone Trace (Subscriber Only!)

De Vinci Terrace (Subscriber Only!)

Criminal Portraiture (Subscriber Only!)

Evidence Report

Bring a Crowbar

Proposal Lasagna

Hang from a Ledge

Taken Home

Oath Named

Cops and Robbers

Smudge 

Under the Edge

Travel Light (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[henrygarcia]

YOU DIDN'T MEAN TO BE CRUEL. THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU WERE KIND.

Awards After-party, post plot drop

Berkeley Estate

Warnings: Nah 🙂

Thud. Thudthudthud. A pause. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Henry used their knock so she knew it was him.

Adriana had been with Henry when everyone’s phone suddenly received a video of a man’s horrific death. How quickly their joyous celebration of her engagement going public soured at the torture and violence. In that instant, who that man was or who was behind this grand reveal didn’t matter to Henry. It was meant to send a message, and its intended recipient was unlikely to take it kindly.

The rest of the dominos falling was just a matter of time.

Henry made sure his best friend was safe first. Despite how many directions his mind was being pulled to—his daughter, his partner, his friends—he knew he couldn’t rest if he had left Adriana out hanging. Perhaps the gravity of the situation sunk in for her as well when Adriana did little to protest. Only after securing Adriana in a room did Henry venture off to find everyone else.

He had found Lara next, heart sunk at the sight of her already worse for wear. Where Henry had been so good, so used to compartmentalizing when he was working, seeing her like that pulled the rug out from under him. Was she alright? Was she hurt? Who did this to her? What happened? Questions bled into the forefront of his attention that only instinct got Henry to move Lara to a secure room before his concerns got the best of him.

A different message brought him back to his senses.

I have V. We are safe.

As much as Henry wanted to stay, he had to put his trust in Lara when she said she was okay, his trust in his colleagues to do their job, because he, too, still had work to do. Everyone would ultimately be better off if he did.

We are safe. We are safe. That was what Henry kept reminding himself as he went against every urge and call to find his daughter first. Valentina and Jessica had each other, he knew. Adriana was by herself, safe but alone. Having her stay with Lara made more sense; they both would have company to ride the ensuing chaos, and security can be more concentrated. With intense focus, Henry went straight to his best friend, dodging and avoiding the fights that littered the estate.

Thud. Thudthudthud. A pause. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Henry blocked most of the way when Adriana finally opened the door, a wave of relief rushed through his system at the sight of her just as he left her. “Lara’s secured. Valentina is with Jess. I’ll get you to Lara’s room first before I get them,” Henry quickly looped Adriana in before he began looking in the vicinity for a clear path. When the coast was clear enough, Henry kept an arm around Adriana, his body both guide and shield as they made their way back to Lara’s room.

“No! Get away from me! You can’t—help!”

The high pitched scream burned Henry’s ears. His heart made him want to approach where it came from. His head told him to avoid that situation entirely because going near would only invite them to trouble they were not supposed to be a part of. Yet, despite having traded blood on his knuckles for money in his bank account, Henry never grew to become indifferent or comfortable around the violence, because ultimately, they were always someone’s parent, child, brother—

“AVIV!”

Henry’s head immediately turned to the direction of the name. The Israeli had tore through the group of men trying to hold on to a small blond woman whom Henry assumed the screams came from. It was almost an amazing sight to see one man fight against a handful of them until the sobering reality hit: Aviv was one man fighting against a handful of Frenchmen.

“AVIV!” Another cry for the man, this time it rang right beside his ear. Adriana, witnessing the same events unfold, called out to her fiancé as she began to storm towards them. She had only made it an arm’s length away before Henry grabbed on to her, pulling her back towards him. Heart and head, often conflicting, were united over the common goal to keep Adriana safe.

The conflict between the French and the Russians had blown up to the point where boundaries grew fewer and became less and less respected as their rivalry continued, giving little regards to those who got burned along the way. Aviv’s reputation unfortunately preceded him, and he had suddenly found himself surrounded by people who could only wish to return the favor. Adriana getting involved would only give the French opportunity—fodder—to hurt Aviv even more.

He couldn’t help but remember Ceren, who had only been in the way for the French to get Jai.

Though Adriana tried to make a run for it, Henry caught up faster, his arm now around her waist to pull her back. And when her sheer force of will insisted on pushing forward, Henry lifted his best friend off her feet and onto his shoulders as he carried her farther and farther away from the scene. Henry swallowed the grunts as he absorbed Adriana’s hits and jabs to try to escape—he let her because he deserved it. For keeping her away from protecting her partner. For leaving Aviv behind. For leaving the woman behind.

None of them may forgive him, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if anything were to happen to Adriana.

[aslightaddity]

Dappy!verse lore The Penguin

Born the daughter of Gertrude Kableput after an affair with Salvatore Moroni. He was an only child as his birth was incredibly traumatic for his mother, he was born prematurely and with cerebral palsy.

His mother was fiercely protective of him. He barely left his home, when he did it was to the doctors, the store, the library, or the park but always with his mother. He was homeschooled by his mother and his neighbors as a child due to his difficulties speaking and the lack of accessibility in the Gotham public schools.

As a child he knew he was different, past his condition, he knew he was truly a boy, he had no way to communicate this, he had no word for what it was. Until he made a friend, a pen pal really, named Helix, who was like him. She too was trans and sheltered. They bonded over their letters, they shared photos, books, songs they loved, and their crazy stories.

For his seventeenth birthday he was surprised with his own set of arm crutches that his mother and neighbors had pooled together money for and was finally had more mobility that he didn’t need to rely on someone else for.

That was the same day he saw his first dead body. He finally had his own way to visit Helix on his own so he went to visit her but when he arrived at her home the doors were unlocked and in the middle of the room was the bloodied corpse of Helix. The only thing the killer left was a ransom note.

Oswald took the note and went to the worst place he knew to try and find answers, fish mooney’s club. He demanded to know if the person could be identified but Fish refused to tell him anything without assurance that he was loyal. In trade for the information Oswald began working for Fish.

As one of Fish’s employees he was given a spare tuxedo, it wasn’t as fitted as the others had them but he was greatful as he finally looked more like a man in it. He worked as a greater for the club and kept tabs on who came and went, like a look out, lord knows the security was just there for show and the heavy lifting. He also helped Fish hide items, often bringing them home and hiding their food hem under a loose floor board.

His mother wasn’t too happy that he got a job but he assured her it was a good job and that the extra money would be nice.

Over the years he slowly got closer to finding Helix’s murderer and he got closer to Fish herself. She was nice but strict, like a mother, and doted on him, saying how he looked like a little penguin in his suit. A nickname that quickly caught on. With the money he earned he was able to pay for his mother’s dream home in another, safer, city and was even able to pay for gender affirming care and better mobility aids on his own.

Then the day came when Fish called him aside to talk to him. They had found who they believed killed Helix and due to his dedication it was up to him what happened to him. Oswald had long made up his mind, he was going to kill them himself.

When the day finally came he went along with Fish and some of the other men to the man’s apartment. He was given a gun, not a nice one but by no means cheap. It was quick and slow the moment when he shot and killed the man he didn’t even bother to learn the name of.

He finally got revenge but there was more he realized his own potential. He could be just as great as Fish.

Fish realized this too and slowly he improved and became her second in command. She drunkenly told him one night that if she to die that it would all be his.

It was an uncharacteristically sunny day in Gotham when that statement would become true. While in a meeting with Falcone the all to familiar sound of a gunshot rang out. Oswald rushed in the room to find Fish bleeding out. Despite his insistence to help and try to save her, she already resigned herself to the death and reminded him that he was going to be a great man.

Usually when he returned home with blood on his hands from work he would wash it off as soon as he could but when he returned home he found himself unable to wash off her blood.

He took up Fish’s position, cozied up to Falcone despite how much he hated the man. But Falcone didn’t care about him, instead of treating him with the same respect he gave Fish, he made Oswald look after his daughter Sophia. Sophia insisted they were friends but it was very clear that they weren’t. They talked but it was mainly Sophia talking and Oswald responding in short answers.

Becoming more and more irritated with Falcone he began scouring to find others that disliked him and Moroni. Which, naturally, was a lot of people. He promised them better, to his ability he gave them better. It wasn’t long before people started denouncing Falcone or Moroni in favor of Oswald. Far too many people to just kill, far too important too.

It wasn’t long before he was confronted by both Falcone and Moroni. Who had nothing by colorful things to say to and about him, the threatened to kill him if he didn’t put an end to his growing claim on their crime empires.

Oswald wasn’t a fool. He had learned from them and so many other men like them how business worked, after-all he was doing a fine job running his own ‘business’. He knew that all men have a weak point you have to gouge, blackmail was a man’s best friend. So he told them what he had over each of them. For Moroni, it was the knowledge of his slew of affairs and illegitimate children he never cared to be responsible for and reminded Falcone that he knew every detail Sophia did. The blackmail alongside the dwindling support forced them to accept the change.

And for years it went like that, he ran the club, now the iceberg lounge, and managed his empire, both with the threats and attempts on his life that came with them. Never once being tied back to it all. He even took in an orphan that reminded him all too much of his long lost friend Helix, the boy was named Martin and he took him in as his own. But he grew paranoid as the years went by smooth.

Paranoid that someone was out to kill all that he loved, paranoid that every new face could be a threat. It quickly became a habit to blackmail and manipulate people. Afterall it was the only way he kept control. But then he met a man that defied his control, Ed Nygma. A man who when faced with blackmail pulled a knife and aimed for an artery. A man he would become so close to and soft with as the tell him his entire story. A story no one else knew in full.

In some ways he had gained the family he had long thought he lost.

[marywitchingbel]

Notes: Er, hi. This is my first time trying something in this way. This will be my first, in english, fanfic. At the moment I'm writing, is almost 4 am and well, I wanted to share a story and any mistake in my writing is because is dark and english isn't my mother language. So please just be kind with me... I promised to have some cool ideas. The story is a Jotaro x Kakyoin x Reader.

"He always was the most sweet boy I ever talk to. And one day.. Well, I just wished I could have had more time to know him better.. Never expect to be able to see him again."

Talking With Death

It all started way before I could understand what it was. Weird dreams about him. Weird memories that, maybe, never existed before. And in the middle of everything... she.

At the beginning, it was a dark and cold place. But, after some nights I could hear the songs coming from somewhere close. I could see the lights. And I just follow it. I guess I wasn't suppose to find, or discover, that place. Because when I did, I found myself trying to have more time with him.

I discover that daydreaming also takes me to that place. Well, the songs was in my mind, even after I woke up. I guess, It was suppose to mean something... right? Because in the end, it's calling me. Or at least, looks like it's calling me.

I know people treat the death of someone dear, in their own kinda way. To be clear express emotions, specially in public, was always something that I don't kinda like it. I mourning his death, for sure. Like everyone. And even more, cuz we're not supposed to talk to anyone. Everything that happen, all the trip.. It's supposed to be a secret.

You see, sharing this... all of this.. in here, Well I guess it's the best way to keep it out of my mind and help with what is and isn't happening. It's a way to keep in touch with reality, while I try to discover what it's all of this.

I'll try to be clear, but in a way only I can understand. This isn't suppose to anyone to read, anyway.

What I know for sure, until now, is that:

It HAS to be someone's who have a Stand;

I guess, it has to be someone powerful, otherwise someone close?

It can talk with the dead, or connect in some trick way people with the recent dead.

The place is an old kinda of castle with European architecture. I guess it's some abandoned ruin without many towers, at least now. Some of the interior reminds me of Bran Castle, the "Dracula's Castle" from Bram Stoker. Fair, I guess.

There's a event every night, and it's always some kind of ball, decorated with white Jasmine flowers all around. At first, I had that weird feeling when I found. The path created with the flowers keep bring me some calm energy sensation. Like someone telling me that now everything is fine.

I can see we're not alone. But I can't see their faces. Everyone else's face have a blur or some kind of mask covering. And I can't remember their faces after waking up. Have try to use Star Platinum to make a drawing, but it fails. Every single time it fails. I don't have any other faces then his..

7. It allow me to connect with Kakyoin.

And it's like he never left.

⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏⊐⋈⊏

Jasmine

This flower perfume is an antidepressant, can relaxes the nerves and relieves headaches, while help fights insomnia and is an aphrodisiac.

The dreams started maybe in the end of November 1988. Maybe even earlier that the mind allows. Weird dreams with some know random guy from school. He's not in school anymore, he changed for some reason.

But he's still in my dreams. I talk with him during those dreams. He's sweet, the sweetest guy I ever talk to. That wasn't many, anyway. But he's one of them. With stories... stories that could only came from a another reality. Another world. One far away of me.

His way of being during those moments, took down any walls that I have built in after the years. His voice could make me fell secure and relieve. Relieve from pain... The physical and mental pain. I could talk with him about anything. And after some time, even the sorrow... the depression.. went away. I became, in a weird way, closer to him.

He said some time about some flower that would help. I guess, of course, it might have been the flower that did all of it. I mean, with the pain. It must have been the flower.

Jasmine, he told me.

And I started to dream with jasmine. Even during the day, I would catch myself feeling the perfume in the middle of my daydreams. Weird, but I didn't question it. Walking any less sad... it's good enough for me.

Then, he left.

Without a warning. Without a sound. Nothing.

Just left.

And I was alone again in my dreams. Or nightmares..

This time, holding jasmines close to a tomb. A cold and dark place, different from before. Far from our comfy little room, it all turned into a dark and cold tomb with his name on it. And I just knew, I had to do it right this time. It couldn't be like before, it had to be perfect. Flawless.

Just to be able to meet with him again. To keep talking with him... keep him somewhere safe..? I'm not sure. But I was sure enough about saving him. I don't know what kind of change I made. I guess I made some, because he's there in the next time I search for him. He had some pretty bad scars in his eyes, but he's there.

Our place also changed after that. The room, I mean, the tomb transform itself into a big old castle, like the ones in a fairy tale. But so much more cold. And dark, without life. The clothes that we had, I only took attention at them when the tomb appear, begin to change into something more... how could I describe? Fantastic. Or better, like we're using costumes.

You look like Death, he told me. You know, death... the grin reaper. But I don't fell in danger or threatened. It's like you're suppose to be here.

Everything was back to the normal. As I guess it could supposed to be. Normal.. Well, let's try again. The talk and way we treat each other was back to normal. Like he didn't had have disappear for nights, and I didn't have made a deal with the devil kinda deal to have him back.

It's calm. But I could notice that he's not like before. We talked and walk around, but he seemed more thoughtful. Sometimes lost in his own mind. During this moments, I found myself also thinking or just observing the dream. Watching the big ball occur while we sit next to it. Only been some kind of decor in the background.

It's weird to be able to see again during this dreams. It's like I never lost this ability. Well, actually it's weird to be here, he murmured one time.

I didn't try to explain. How could I? What it have to me to explain? I didn't try.

And then he appear.

Taller, big.. Like some kinda of bear. Some well come present that was invited from the woods. I never took much attention, but looks like the dream was expanding. From far away. And now, it's slowly being guide to the castle. To the ball.. To us? Well, I don't know.

I just allow it. I guess, I allow it.

He wasn't a treat.

He was just another... guest.

[dystini]

2020 Indy 500 Prank

Some pranks are done and forgotten almost instantly. Some become sagas, stretching out over days and weeks, past the actual race. Here is one of those.

The Indy 500 in 2020 was delayed until August due to the pandemic. But this did not deter the pranks from happening. The Off Track with Hinch and Rossi episode where this was discussed is not easily available anymore but it was a good listen.

August 19, 2020 Alex Rossi, despite having a bus, does not sleep at the track except for the night before the Indy 500 and perhaps the night before qualifying. He’s said he prefers to sleep in his bed at home. This fateful morning, he was sent a pic of his bus.

He went PitFit, the gym many drivers use, and immediately accused James Hinchcliffe of being involved, going so far as to demand Hinch’s phone so search his texts for evidence. He found nothing.

As per Hinch:

“I’m standing in the gym, minding my own business, and Alex walks up in right behind me, gets really close into my ear and just goes “You’re fucking dead,” said Hinchcliffe, who needed “the better part of an hour” to clear his name. His innocence sufficiently was proved after allowing Rossi to look at various text conversations with Andretti Autosport employees.

“He was like an angry girlfriend,” Hinchcliffe said with a laugh. “‘Show me your phone!'”

With Alex’s tweet, news of the prank had spread wide and far, and it was a huge topic of conversation, both online and in interviews at the track. With Hinch cleared, Conor Daly was the next prime suspect, along with Colton Herta. Alex told all of the crew members (and likely anyone else who would listen) that he suspected them. This caused Conor to panic and he called Colton, not knowing that Alex was with Colton and listening on speakerphone. The conversation went as follows.

"Aw dude, how'd he find out," Daly asked Herta. "He knows it was us."

"Yeah, man," Herta replied. "He came into the engineering room and he looked right at me and said he knew it was us. And I didn't know what to say."

"Well, did you tell him?" Daly asked Herta.

"Nah man," Herta said. "But I'm not a very good actor."

Alex, now knowing that Conor was his target, attempted to procure Conor’s keys.

Rossi learned Daly would be on a date that night but didn’t know the woman or have her number. They talked after he reached her via an Instagram direct message, but she was unable to find Daly’s keys.

So Rossi went to the restaurant where Daly and his date had dinner and received permission from the parking valet (who was a friend) to search Daly’s Tahoe — fruitlessly — for the keys.

Rossi later learned the keys were in Daly’s right front pocket.

“The moral of the story was I couldn’t get the bus keys,” Rossi said. “I did everything I possibly could and couldn’t make it work.”

Conor also hid his golf cart somewhere on the grounds of IMS, no doubt aided by his stepfather, track President, Doug Boles.

August 22, 2020

Alex attempted his revenge, aided by Colton. This also failed.

August 27, 2020.

Conor attempted to defend himself with this tweet.

Colton denied involvement...

and went on to threaten to release Conor’s phone number.

Someone else, in a tweet now deleted, DID release Conor’s phone number.

The next day, Tim Durham, producer of Off Track with Hinch and Rossi decided to join in, aided by others, releasing the first few numbers of Colton’s social security number. This was not as dire as it sounds as those numbers are based on location and year of birth and apply to millions of people and can be deduced by knowing those two pieces of information, which for Colton, is public knowledge. It’s the last few digits that are the true identifiers so Colton was never in any real danger of identity theft as Tim and the others likely did not even know the rest of the digits.

The prank faded into the mist at this point, nearly forgotten until 2022, when Alex finally got his revenge. But that is another story.

[walkingstackofbooks]

DS9 4x20 The Muse thoughts (I’m re-watching, so beware spoilers for future episodes!) [12 July ‘23]

I had no idea Jake's mind-nomming happened in the same episode as the Lwxana/Odo marriage - okay let's gooo!

"I won't let him do it, Odo." "Who? What?" I guess being telepathic, she might forget she actually has to start from the beginning of a story and explain it rather than have people pick up from what she's thinking?

This alien talks in the weirdest way. I'm glad Jake starts out uneasy, at least.

I hate when Jake picks something over spending time with his dad. Like, it checks out, he *is* a teenager, but Sisko's always so disappointed 😭

"What do you want me to do about it?" "Either cheer her up or get her to leave." Love how Quark thinks Odo could cheer her up rather than just be security getting her to leave.

Oh!! At Quark's request Odo does go and give up his routine and free time to make her happier :3 I do love these two.

Odo's war with himself over being unpleasant to ward her off from his quarters but also not wanting to. :3

"Major Kira and First Minister Shakaar are involved now." "How sad." "Not at all. I'm happy for her." For most of the time Odo is actually such a good bro. I don't like the framing later on that he somehow 'deserves' Kira just because he likes her, but he really is so respectful.

"Well, just don't go do what I did. Look for someone to fix your broken heart then end up pregnant and on the run." "I don't think there's too much danger of that happening." His little laugh. I am sad he and Lwxana couldn't be together.

"[I feel] Like a changeling who's had to hold his shape too long." It's sweet that she puts it in understandable terms, I think?

"Lwxana? Your replicator isn't really broken, is it?" Aww it took you that long? Call yourself a detective XD

"I'm sorry if I made you feel unwelcome." You literally did less to make her feel unwelcome than you do to any other person who comes your way though!

Oh damn I had paused this halfway through and once again forgot Jake's storyline was the other half of this episode!

Why do I feel like that pen should write in Jake's blood?

This alien is so creepy and I hate this so so soooo much

Haha! Odo laughing! I love how much they enjoy each other's time

Why not lie to Lwxana's husband, and tell him that she's not here??

IT'S ODO'S IDEA TO GET MARRIED??? I HAD THOUGHT IT WOULD BE LWAXANA! HE IS THE SWEETEST

Odo's so tender as he helps her up to the stage thing!

Miles' uncertain look at "add her to what is mine"

Quark's wistful sigh at Odo's "I didn't need anyone else."

"The truth is, I was ashamed of what I was, afraid that if people saw how truly different I was they would recoil from me." *camera pans to Julian* OH THESE TWO GIVE ME FEELINGS. They would just have the ability to relate so hard to each other! Tell me that that quote couldn't belong to Julian in DBIP.

"The day I met her is the day I stopped being alone." *Kira looks down* Oh, I wonder what she's feeling about that. Because she definitely thought they were good friends.

I am still surprised the husband doesn't fight harder. All he needs to do is doubt it. I guess some part of him really did love Lwxana?

"What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic!" Really, Quark? Sure.

"You know, for a minute there, I really believed you wanted to marry me." Oh, he DID.

"Orange juice." Sometimes Jake does things that make me remember how young he is. (Even though I'd be ordering apple juice all the time though... But everyone else usually guess got tea or coffee or alcohol.)

At least Jake's in a public place when he collapses. Glad he didn't go back to his quarters.

"He was the youngest I ever found. So eager, ready to give everything he had in one great burst." Apart from he hadn't agreed to give everything, he didn't know that was what you were doing and he wouldn't have consented if he had!

"You really should stay." "I'll miss you, too." Ohhh. Lwxana's ability to cut to what Odo is feeling.

"I could stay, try to make you fall in love with me, but we both know that won't happen. Then I'd end up resenting you, and our friendship is far too important for me to let that happen." I love these two so much though ❤️❤️

"The dialogue is sharp, the story's involving, the characters are real. The spelling is terrible. I especially liked the father." SISKO :3 I love his dad-ing

"All you need to do is learn to find them by yourself." Sisko is such a wonderful dad. And so good at advice and saying the right thing!

Anslem - he wrote that in the alternate timeline where Sisko dies? But on his own? I guess in that timeline, at this point was he too sad for the alien to find him an alluring target? I like how we know it's his - and I'm guessing Sisko does too from his memories of that timeline. :3

[anonymousdandelion]

B’Chol Dor VaDor

So, today’s writing prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial was “you’re not alone.”

I could only only think of one thing, and almost opted not to share the result. But here it is. Be aware that this is heavier and... rawer than my usual subject matter (although, I hope, also ultimately hopeful), and it is written in the context of rising antisemitism in the US and globally. It is particularly written in the context of the “Day of Hate” which Neo-Nazi groups are threatening for tomorrow.

It is also written in the context of a long, long history of suffering, and the past and present of a rich community that has survived and continues to survive through and despite all those who try to stop us.

Esther went to sleep that Friday night expecting to have nightmares. The subject that had hung over her all day — that she’d seen in the news first thing in the morning after washing her hands, and that had dominated discussion at the dinner table that evening, looming dark and ugly behind the flickering glow of the candles, underpinning her indecision about what to do the following day — seemed all but tailored to that effect.

Her anticipation proved well-founded.

They stormed through the synagogue, in her dream, armed with spraypaint and swastikas and guns. Stormed at her, her friends, her family…

She lost sight of them in the chaos and somehow ended up at the public library. There, Esther fled to the familiar children’s area, sure she’d blend in there or all places, with people all around and the safety and security she’d always felt amongst the books.

But even there, they came at her from behind the bookshelves, monsters that, even in dreaming, were terrifyingly human and real. The other library patrons turned away, said nothing, did nothing, until they eventually faded away entirely. The library backdrop faded, too. And then it was just her and them, caught in a dark, amorphous room with no escape.

Dirty Jew, they said to her, and hurled other slurs she’d never even heard spoken aloud. They hurled worse things, too, and there was no one who cared, absolutely no one…

She woke, heart pounding.

Or thought she did, until she looked around her and saw, lining the walls of her own bedroom… people. Several people. Some faces she knew, though she had seen them only long ago, or only in peeling pictures in old albums. Others Esther had never seen, yet felt she knew anyway.

Family, her heart sang, as much as it had cried Danger not long before.

I’m scared, she told the gathered people, though she knew it was not they that frightened her. I’m scared.

I know, Estele, said a rough, caring voice that Esther had last heard in a hospice room five years before. And one of the women came forward; pinched her cheek in the way that had always made Esther squirm. I was scared, too, zisele, when they came for us in the old country. Bubbie gestured at the group, and in the logicless way of dream-knowledge, Esther knew they were generations upon generations of her ancestors. We were all scared.

B’chol dor vador, said another voice from someone in the ring, in rhythm reminiscent of a familiar tune. Omdim aleinu v’chaloteinu…

Moishe! someone scolded him, when he stopped. You have to finish the verse! The last line is the most important part!

It’s not the part that’s relevant right now, argued another person.

Nu, I was going to get to it in a minute! Moishe complained, but someone else called out at the same time, What are you talking about? Of course it’s relevant! It’s always relevant! It’s the whole point!

It—

And the assembly in Esther’s dream-bedroom burst into energetic bickering; a sort of chaos and conflict completely different from the sort that had tormented the nightmare.

This chaos felt like home.

Incredibly, and with immense relief at the feeling, she found herself laughing.

Well, said her Bubbie wryly, we were supposed to give you a pep talk. To remind you you’re not alone. That our people have been through this in the past, that we got through it every time and that we will again. But—

Esther hugged her, and dream or no dream, it felt like a hug.

I mean it, Bubbie said sternly, squeezing back. You aren’t alone. And that’s true in the living world, too. Our community. They may come for us, may catch some of us… but always we outlive them in the end. They won’t win…

…There was sunlight on their faces, bright and insistent, and Esther awoke.

She lay in bed a minute, reflecting on her night and the vague images of dreams already flowing quietly away from her waking memory.

Then she said modah ani, rose, got dressed, and went to shul with head held high, to join her community in facing whatever the day might hold.

Then she said modah ani, rose, got dressed, and went to shul with head held high, to join her community in facing whatever the day might hold.

Then she said modah ani, rose, got dressed, and went to shul with head held high, to join her community in facing whatever the day might hold.

[eroaneki]

so i'm going to explain this as someone who was 10 when the war in Afghanistan started and 12 when the Iraqi war started, and remembers, very vividly, the general feeling of America during that time.

there is a distinct difference between America prior to 9/11 and America post 9/11. prior to 9/11, America was "free." you could go anywhere without having cameras following you, needing to go through a million security checks at the airport. your loved ones were able to meet you at the gate when you got off of a plane, and you could literally take the bus to any major airport in the country and just hang out all day. you didn't have to have a flight scheduled to be allowed in an airport. it was literally a thing to go down to an airport to have dinner at one of the restaurants there or hang at the bar. basically there wasn't such an obvious "big brother is watching you" type feeling.

when 9/11 happened, America was shaken to its core. we realized, for the first time, that we weren't invulnerable to attacks from foreign entities. 9/11 was the first time America had ever suffered a foreign terrorist attack. there was instant panic. i remember people being pulled out of school the day of. businesses shut down. people pulled money out of their bank accounts. the economy came to a grinding halt so badly that the Federal Reserve dropped interest rates to 0% in order to stimulate people to keep spending money. there was widespread fear that the end of America was coming.

that feeling persisted, and still persists today. Bush, wanting to right the "wrongs" of his father, used these feelings of panic and uncertainty in the American public to drum up support for invading the Middle East. most of the American public agreed with it because they just wanted to feel safe again. they wanted things to go back to the way they were prior to 9/11. Canada, France, the UK, and other world players supported him in this endeavor and sent troops.

Bush ended up invading Afghanistan without Congressional support in October 2001. Congress later agreed to grant him authority to declare war on Iraq when he eventually started touting how they had information about "weapons of mass destruction (aka nukes)" being stashed in Iraq and sought to flush them out. I watched on live TV in December 2003 when they pulled Saddam Hussain out of a dusty hole in the ground and toppled the statue of him in the middle of Bagdhad. Again, I was 12 when this happened.

It became evident after some time that Iraq did not house nukes. Or if they did, they'd been moved somewhere else long before America got to these so-called "facilities" where they were being kept. There were literally no nukes or weapons of mass destruction to be found. Slowly, our allies started to pull out of the war effort, realizing there was no other reason to be there. Because France pulled out, Bush went around trying to rename french fries "freedom fries" as a way to show our displeasure with France's decision.

Because we created a power vacuum by pulling Saddam out of power, we were forced into staying in the Middle East and then tried rebuilding Afghanistan as like a sovereign state. Basically we started fighting ideologies from all over the Middle East, which cost us thousands of American lives unnecessarily and it's been a big point of contention for years now as to whether we had any business going into Afghanistan at all. It also cost thousands of innocent lives throughout the Middle East and completely destabilized the area. It only gave birth to further, more extreme terrorist organizations such as ISIS.

The whole conflict in the Middle East was supported by Americans for the first few years of the war. But as the results and rationale waned, most people wanted out. America likely stayed due to resources, wanting to establish influence, and worst of all, pride. Almost every issue we have right now can be traced back to 9/11 and the fallout after.

But what's even more upsetting is to see what happened after we pulled out of Afghanistan in 2021. After 20 years of literal blood, sweat, and tears trying to prop the country up, Afghanistan crumbled completely in less than 24 hours. 20 years and countless lives lost and forever changed, for nothing. Quite literally nothing other than to serve the ego's of those in power.

And now our generation and every generation after us is saddled with trillions upon trillions of dollars worth of debt from a war that quite literally meant nothing. We cannot afford basic living expenses, rent, education, etc., in large part because of the economic response to this war.

Our futures were all sold because of this war.

I missed most of the Iraq war due to being a baby, but every time I read about it I start wondering why we aren’t all talking about it all of the time

[wonnieluv]

Miss Possessive - p.js

Summary: you love showing your smart, tall, handsome boyfriend off until… people touch what isn’t theirs

non-idol!Jay x possessive fem!reader

Warnings: reader is possessive but not toxic, suggestive, hickeys, mentions of violence (no actual violence)

masterlist

You and Jay have been together going on 3 years now. He’s the perfect man that would’ve been plucked out of 6 year old you’s fantasies. He’s caring, kind, devilishly handsome, smart, loving, and did i mention devilishly handsome.

You guys have become the perfect couple. You do argue as it would be unnatural if you didn’t, but you work really well together and you couldn’t ask for a better partner. Unfortunately, some people don’t realize that he’s yours.

And that’s how you find yourself in the classy halls of a charity banquet the two of you are attending. You went to grab yourself a drink and speak to some old friends while Jay went to talk to some people on his own but now… now you’re standing at a table only half listening to ur best friend Aeri as you watch some random girl put her hands on your man

“Unless you found out how to grow daggers from your eyelashes, glaring across the room isn’g going to do anything” you hear Aeri say next to you

“She has about 2 seconds to step back before i yank this horrible extensions out of her scalp” you seethe.

Don’t get me wrong. You’re very secure in your relationship. You aren’t mad at Jay. It’s more of a respect thing for you. And this girl was not only disrespecting Jay’s personal space, she wasn’t respecting the fact that he’s your man

“Aeri i’ll be back” you say walking away

“I know you won’t just wait to suck each others faces off until after the party” she calls after you.

You continue through the crowd, eyes trained on them waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

You sneak up behind Jay and wrap your arms around his waist resting your chin on his shoulder,

“Hi love” you hear Jay greet you as he reaches down and grabs your hands. In one swift motion he removes them from his waist and brings you next to him so he can rest his arms on your waist.

“Jia this is my lovely girlfriend y/n. I’m sure you know her” as Jay speaks your sharp gaze lands on the girl who is now shamelessly smirking at you.

“Well Jay i didn’t realize your girlfriend was so…” she begins to trail off but before she can even complete the insult you cut her off

“Don’t even go there Jia, i could have you kicked out of here within 5 seconds” you begin glaring at her “and whether i do or not doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t want you so now if you’ll excuse us.” You turn to Jay and immediately press your lips onto his

The kiss doesn’t last long as you are at a public event so when you pull away you barely spare Jia a glance before pulling Jay with you.

The two of you step into a more secluded hallway and before you can say anything Jay has you pressed against the wall as your lips connect into a passionate kiss. His hands securely around your waist while yours go up to play at the hairs on the back of his neck.

You pull away breathlessly leaning your forehead on his with a smile on your face.

“Thank you baby, she was annoying the shit out of her” Jay says softly with a slight smirk

“Had to save my damsel in distress” you giggle back. “I should really stop leaving you alone at events you look this good at” you say as you run your hand down his chest

“You could…” he starts “but i like when my little miss possessive comes out” he says as he begins to leave light kisses on your neck and face

“Don’t push me too hard love, i might make a scene” you say with light smirk

“Hmmm you promise?” He asks with a cheeky smile

You roll your eyes in response slapping his chest “what ever. Let’s go home, i don’t want anyone else to look at you tonight i might snap someone’s neck” you say as you lean your head on his chest.

“Okay we can go home, but we have to go in and say our goodbyes first” he says softly stroking your hair

“Do we have to…” you lightly whine

“Yes love we do” he chuckles “it’ll be fast don’t worry”

“Fine but let me do one thing first” you say as you bring your head to his neck. Before he can say anything you’re leaving light kisses down from his jaw until up find your favorite spot. You latch on and begin to suck a nice dark hickey into his skin feeling his grip on your hips tighten at the action

When you’re satisfied you pull away and admire your work before pecking his cheek “there” you say with a smile “now we can go back”

He looks at you with an unimpressed expression “you realize i have to say goodbye to my parents in there right”

All you do is shrug “we’ve done worse under their own roof i think you’ll be find”

All he can do is sigh “i’m gonna marry you someday” he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you to his side as you go to re-enter the party

“Good cause I’m gonna marry you someday” you reply with a soft smile

Let’s just say Jays parents weren’t necessarily impressed but they let you off the hook for now

Haha you guys should stream So Close To What by Tate McRae

🏷️ @chlorophylliaa

[vastayan--vigilante]

Writing A Background Canon Character - Filling The Gaps (pt.2)

Finally got around to jotting down the backstory overview for my portrayal of Scar. I've had it stored in my head for nearly two years and never got around to typing it up because ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯

But I do reference details from his backstory occasionally when it's relevant to a scene, and for any AUs/threads set prior to s1 ep4 events, this does provide useful context as to what young Scar's situation would be/what kind of circumstances other characters could have feasibly encountered him in during that time period.

All of this is completely headcanon-based, obviously.

#1 - Early life

Scar started out as Valkos, a sump-scrapper who grew up in the gutters with nothing. One of many kids orphaned by Vander and Silco's failed uprising, he got by through selling stolen goods and scavenged scraps with his friends Rux and Gret - their specialism was stripping sheet metal and other construction components with high reuse value from condemned/abandoned industrial buildings. The scrap was heavy, difficult to move, and dangerous to access; a high risk for high reward.

He and his friends found sites largely through word of mouth, by offering a small cut of the profits to anyone that came with intel on a place with valuable scrap. They often had to operate at odd hours in the night to avoid being caught by enforcers or opportunistic snipes looking to snatch someone else's haul.

At 16, disaster struck - he lost Rux to a structural collapse during an ambitious abandoned cannery job. Shortly later, Gret got hurt in a fight while transporting the very goods Rux had died for to a seller; one of her wounds became infected, and she succumbed to sepsis. Without the help of his friends, Valkos was unable to continue his scrap-metal scavenging operation - it was simply too dangerous to do alone, and the occupation itself felt cursed after everything that had happened. At that point, he started feeling the need for the protection of a larger crew.

#2 - The fighting pits

Competing in pit fights gave him the opportunity to earn enough coin to tide him over when solo scrapper pickings were slim on the ground, while increasing his street cred in the hopes of improving his prospects.

Security paid a lot better than scrapping, after all, and having some certified wins under his belt could make him be taken more seriously by the local bosses.

Being a tall teen worked in his favour - no one questioned whether he met the minimum age requirement for match entry.

As far as the young vastayan was concerned, he'd been old enough to work and fight over scraps to sell since he was thirteen - what difference did it make if he was earning his coin fighting in a basement of a venue that happened to sell alcohol, instead of in some back alley?

At 17, his fighting skills - namely his ability to take multiple hits and stay on his feet, enduring long enough for his opponent to tire and give him an opening to win - started to gain him some attention. He was recruited by a chemboss called Niska, who ran a local gang called The Rat Kings.

#3 - Chemthug operations

The Rat Kings controlled a modest strip of territory near Factorywood, in the lower Sump level of Zaun. It was the first job Valkos had with regular pay and while the work was still dangerous, it came with more breaks and downtime.

He maintained a level of rapport with some of the younger local snipes who'd once served as his scrap salvage tipsters, occasionally still doing odd jobs for them on the side for a reduced fee (often through bartering and trading favours/intel rather than coin, which both parties were always respectively short on.) He was largely recognised as a neutral figure, who didn’t kick down at the smaller fish in the pond, and was safe enough to approach for help - when he was on his own, anyway.

When out working with his fellow Rat Kings, he was known to curtly warn off the kids, or ignore them entirely - discouraging public approaches, as he'd learned the hard way that discreet dealings where no one could overhear were safer.

The only notable exception to this behaviour was if one of his crewmates, enforcers or other gang members ever targeted kids in his presence - in which case he would simply attack the offending adults and drive them away, before resuming whatever he was doing.

For almost a year, this was the way of things. Life was still hard and unforgiving, but he had a roof over his head, food in his stomach, coin in his pockets, and a crew at his back.

Then Silco took over The Lanes, and things began to change.

#4 - Shimmer addiction

The shift in power brought about a new power structure to the Undercity, and new opportunities for ambitious chembosses.

Keen to claw her way up the ladder to secure a seat at the table as a Chembaron, Niska sought ways to increase her profits and expand her territory. She set aggressive route tolls to squeeze tourists and unwary locals for extra income; Valkos and his crewmates were assigned to enforce these tolls.

(Notably the tolls didn't prove very effective; Rat King members regularly cut private deals and gave free passes to locals they liked, while tourists simply learned to avoid those parts of town and spend their money at other gang-run businesses instead, atrophying the gang's profits instead of bolstering it.)

The Rat Kings began to repeatedly clash with the neighbouring Hatters in an effort to take over their coveted ironworks factory - a strong financial asset that would have provided the income Niska needed to secure her hold on the district, while weakening her rivals significantly.

Increased competition with the Hatters and the Dregs (another neighbouring gang), paired with the launch of Shimmer as a potent new form of combat augmentation, brought about a marked increase in gang operation expenses and casualties.

Niska took to paying her people more in the cheap, readily available "Vigour" variant of Shimmer than coin (a growing trend amongst low tier chembosses to cut costs, cultivate dependency in their workers, and give them the power boost to hold their own on a playing field being dominated by chem-augmented fighters.)

This decision marked the beginning of The Rat Kings' swift decline.

#5 - The price of progress

As the primary target audience for Shimmer sales and its most regular users, the chemthugs were the first group to experience the array of serious side effects from all the street drug variants flooding the market.

Viewed as expendable assets by their bosses, Valkos and his peers were the unknowing test subjects for the industry.

When word spread about the "Vigour" variant of Shimmer having a high fatality rate, dealers shrugged it off. It was still selling, after all, and a lot of their chemthug customers had short shelf lives anyway.

Only when sales dropped off, due to less deadly, more honed Shimmer variants like "Blitz" hitting the market, did dealers finally start to phase out Vigour from their stock.

Some dealers who were reluctant to pour money down the drain by disposing of their unwanted Vigour stock, however, simply elected to blend it with some of the newer Shimmer variant and sell the bootleg mixture as another "new" cost-effective variant, "Beast" - which was cheaper and more easily available to the desperate sump-level addicts than Blitz, but turned out to present with eerily similar side effects to Vigour.

Overworked and underfed chemthugs began dropping like flies, as the highly addictive combat-enhancing Shimmer variants their chembosses chose to pay them in proved lethal for sustained use.

#6 - Breaking the cycle

Realising that the drugs they were being paid in was making them sick and steadily killing them off, and that their gang was a sinking ship, some chemthugs (including Valkos) attempted to stop taking Shimmer and quit their gang, seeking a different employer who could pay coin instead of poison.

Most gang defectors did not survive. Either because of ordered hits by their former chembosses for "turning traitor", inability to secure work due to the stain of their previous gang affiliation, death from the debilitating withdrawal symptoms, or death from relapse-induced overdose.

Valkos himself was badly beaten and garrotted for his attempt to quit The Rat Kings; he was forced to down an entire vial of the "Beast" variant of Shimmer in order to fight off Niska and his own former crewmates, and escape into the abandoned sewer tunnels.

While the Shimmer accelerated the healing of his injuries, and enabled him to survive long enough to find somewhere he could hole up away from immediate danger, it came with a steep cost. Scar was severely unwell from the side effects - and with no Shimmer left to try and wean himself off gradually, as he'd originally planned, the subsequent withdrawal crash was brutal.

His survival was largely due to the connections he'd made outside of The Rat Kings.

#7 - Starting over

His history of occasionally helping out younger, smaller sumpsnipes ultimately ended up saving his life - it was the lost children of Zaun who took pity on the chemthug, shaking and rattling in a condemned building deep in the slums. Ekko and his friends snuck Valkos water and food, ensured he didn't choke on his own vomit, and sat with him while he was weak and recovering.

Between the distinctive garrotting injury to his throat, and his reluctance to be identified (out of paranoia that word of his whereabouts could get back to his old gang), the kids simply took to referring to him as "Scar". The coined nickname stood as a stark reminder of the damage that he had survived, but been forever changed by.

The nickname stuck.

Shortly after his strength started to return, the disconcerting news reached him - Niska was dead, and what remained of The Rat Kings had been destroyed, wiped out in one final furious street war with the Hatters. His decision to leave had been a close call in more ways than one. Had he stayed a day later, he would have been forced to take part in that very fight, and died right alongside everyone else in his crew.

As far as he was concerned, everyone could assume that was exactly what had happened to the chemthug named Valkos.

Scar dropped his name, along with his old life. He decided to stick with Ekko's little band of misfits, to support their cause and help others like himself who needed somewhere safe to start again.

[fanficsfreeideas]

day 23 single parent

Chapter 3

Alastor found herself navigating a life that felt like it belonged to someone else. When she’d agreed to Vox’s proposal, she thought she was simply buying herself and Niffty a reprieve—a cold, calculated arrangement that would offer security without entanglements. But the reality was far more intricate, weaving her and Niffty into a world of power, privilege, and carefully curated appearances.

Vox approached their "marriage" with the same precision he applied to his business dealings. He orchestrated every detail of their public lives with ruthless efficiency. Alastor hosted dinners, attended galas, and learned to play the role of the perfect wife. To her surprise, Vox proved adept at playing his part as well. At events, he would drape an arm over her shoulder, his gaze lingering on her just long enough to sell the illusion of devotion.

But the most convincing part of the charade was the way Vox treated Niffty. In public, he played the doting father to perfection, proudly showing her off to colleagues and acquaintances. His sharp tongue softened around her, and he lavished her with attention in ways Alastor hadn’t expected.

What shocked her most, however, was how thoroughly Vox erased Husk from their lives.

When Vox introduced them to his family, it was as though Niffty had always been his. He spun a flawless narrative: a whirlwind romance that left him blindsided, a mistake that kept him from being present in his daughter’s early years, and now his heartfelt attempt to make amends. He painted Alastor as the resilient mother who raised their child alone, never asking for his help, a story that made Vox seem both flawed and admirable in his vulnerability.

Husk? Vox ensured there was no trace of him. Alastor knew Vox was thorough, but even she was taken aback by how completely Husk’s existence had been scrubbed away. Records were altered, photos erased, and whispers silenced. Husk’s fate in prison—his tongue cut out, his hands mangled—was too coincidental to be anything but deliberate.

When she confronted Vox about it, he raised his hands in mock innocence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said smoothly, though his smirk told her he knew exactly what she was referring to.

“Of course you don’t,” Alastor replied, crossing her arms. She stared at him for a moment longer before shrugging. “Vox I don’t care, Husk got what he deserved.”

Vox’s smirk softened into something more genuine, but he said nothing.

The meeting with Vox’s family was another test, one Alastor approached with a mix of nerves and indifference. She didn’t care about their approval, but she knew appearances mattered to Vox.

His father, a tall, imposing man with a commanding presence, was skeptical at first. “So, you left this woman to raise your daughter alone for four years?” he said, his voice like gravel as he leveled Vox with a withering glare.

“I made a mistake,” Vox admitted, his tone humble enough to be believable. “But I’m fixing it now.”

Alastor expected judgment to fall on her, but instead, his father turned to her and Niffty with surprising warmth. He crouched down to Niffty’s level, his gruff exterior softening. “Well, you’re a strong little one, aren’t you? Takes after her mother.”

Niffty grinned, and Alastor couldn’t help but smile.

“If my son ever acts up, you call me,” Vox’s father said to Alastor, his tone only half-joking. “I’ll remind him how to behave.”

Vox rolled his eyes but said nothing, letting the moment pass.

Vox’s mother, on the other hand, was an entirely different force of nature. She burst into tears the moment she met Niffty, scooping her up into a suffocating hug.

“My grandbaby! Four years—I missed four years because of him,” she wailed, jabbing an accusatory finger at Vox. “You cruel, thoughtless boy.”

“Mother,” Vox started, his voice strained, but she waved him off.

“No excuses! None! Alastor, dear, you must let me make it up to her. Four years!”

From that moment on, Vox’s mother became Niffty’s fiercest champion. She paraded her new role as a grandmother with pride, showing off Niffty to her friends and boasting about her charm and intelligence. Vox often found himself the target of cold shoulders and sharp remarks from his mother’s friends.

“How could you deprive her of this joy for four years?” one of them said at a luncheon, glaring at him over her teacup.

Vox, simply sighed and offered a resigned, “I’m sorry, Mother,” which seemed to placate her for the moment.

Each time Vox tried to retrieve Niffty from his mother’s clutches, she swatted his hand away.

“Leave her with me,” she snapped. “I have four years to catch up on. Go do… whatever it is you do.”

Despite the chaos, Alastor found herself laughing more often than she expected. Vox’s family, for all their theatrics, embraced her and Niffty wholeheartedly. For the first time in years, Alastor felt like she was part of something larger—a strange, messy, and unexpectedly comforting network of people who cared for her and her daughter.

Vox, of course, continued to manage their arrangement with his usual precision. But as Alastor watched him fumble through family dinners, endure his mother’s scoldings, and panic over Niffty’s scraped knees, she began to see cracks in his polished facade. Beneath the control and cunning was a man who, against all odds, was trying his best.

It wasn’t the life she’d planned, but as she tucked Niffty into bed one night and glanced at Vox reading awkwardly from a bedtime storybook, she realized it might just be a life worth keeping.