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traveller-of-the-knight · 7 months ago

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Blind Reflections Chapter 1 "Willing to die"

So this is basically a Moon Knight x Daredevil fanfic that is also a Moon Knight x Jessica Jones fanfic. You don't need to know shit about Daredevil or Jessica Jones, just know that this fic is very Jake Lockley centered and I will do a deep dive into his character and his past.

(Punisher, Spiderman, Layla along with Marc and Steven will be on the next chapters)

Words: 8.5K

Warnings: Canon typical violence, yeap I don't speak Spanish please correct me, very very temporary character death.

You can find it on AO3 here

ENJOY!

Matt Murdoc was… Confused to say the least, weirded out you may say. He’s been in many fights before: gangs, crime lords, ancient ninjas, blood thirsty vigilantes, dead girlfriends, you name it! But this… This was something the wasn’t prepared for. The strangest encounter he had yet to face. And that was only the first step into the maze that is Moon Knight’s reality.

The night started as normal as it could get for someone like him. A few punches here there, a couple of knife cuts and some missed gunshots -you know, the uzhe. Which lead him stalking a complex of ship containers next to the Hadson River, waiting to ambush an arms trade from Egypt. If what “punched-out-criminal-number-four” told him is true, these weapons can’t fall into the wrong hands.

So, he waited for what seemed like hours on a building not too far away from the target. He didn’t need to be that close anyway. Besides he got a clearer image of his surroundings that way, without having to deal too much with the unpleasant odors of the river.

Still, he found himself wondering around with all for his senses. The warm wind made the otherwise cold and humid night more tolerable. He could feel it breaking through his shirt, making him shiver in the sudden change of temperature as the soft fabric hugged his skin.

He took his blindfold off, to let his face breath in the New York night. As he did, the smells he wanted to avoid hit him all too fast. Rotten fish, garbage leaking out into the muddy waters and the industrial revolution making itself present, even to this day. But it wasn’t all that bad after all. He isolated the traces of the afternoon’s rain on the soil mixed with churchy leaves, as they were stepped on by a young couple.

He heard them laughing and do happy little dances around each other. It is beautiful, having someone like that in your life. Someone who stays longer than a month, someone who understands what you must do and won’t try to keep you away from it, or even worse, judge you and leave due to that.

A new presence pulled him out of his thoughts. Someone was running from building-to-building heading towards the river. This can’t be good. He put the blindfold back on and focused on the potential threat.

It was only a man, out of breath, trying to keep up a conversation regardless the circumstances. Matt couldn’t hear the other side of it, or even feel the other person, but it was probably just an earpiece…

Well… he was very wrong. On his defense who could have guested what was actually happening!

Instead of another man he was accompanied by the wind. It was growing stronger and more violent around him, when it reached Matt the comfort of his warm clothes was utterly gone and he could only feel an unearthly chill, making him freeze to the bone.

Suddenly the wind became aggressive, lifting all the trash left on the poor rooftops and dropping them into the ground with force, like a child throwing a tantrum.

“We are not too late!”, said the man. He had an accent that Matt couldn’t really place, he sounded like he lived in New York for a while but there was also something… South American he quested in his pronunciation but also soft and rhythmic like Italian. Besides that, his tone wasn’t soft, he sounded exhausted and slightly pissed but he did his best to refrain himself.

“We don’t know that my son. They have tricked us before.”, answered the wind. But its words were undetectable, even for Matt’s delicate ears.

Fortunately, the only man capable of hearing them, is always surrounded by that wind, to hear all of its demands and pain. That man of course, was no other than Jake Lockley.

Jake Lockley is a strange man. He likes to drink his coffee black, but occasionally he’ll order “a gingerbread-almond-milk-late, with some caramel syrup and whipped cream on top of it” just because “it reminds me of an old friend”, even though he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who’d let himself get that sentimental. He also always likes to wear his hat. And I mean always. He’ll take of his jacket, if he ever comes to your place, heck, he’ll even take his shoes off, if you want him to. But no, never his hat.

People who know him have their theories. Some say that he’s probably bolding at a young age, emphasizing the later, because even though he looked young, his demeanors made him look at least a decade older. Others say that his grandfather, moments before he died, gifted him the hat, which belonged in the family for many generations, and made him promise to never take it off. That theory sounds dumb, but you can never be too sure about anything when it comes to him. He’s a man surrounded by an aura of mystery and the skill to trick others into thinking that he’s an open book. That’s how dangerous he is.

Only one man is capable of breaking through his many layers of armor. Well… Not actually a “man”, but a bird. A six-thousand-year-old bird, or maybe just what remained of him in his flowing-head skeleton or whatever the fuck is that. But he sounds like a man, or just a stupid pigeon -your choice, his avatars will probably agree with you regardless. He on the other hand… He’ll prefer the name Khonshu. Khonshu, the protector of all who travel by night. Khonshu, the God of the stary sky. Khonshu, the one who seeks vengeance on anyone hurting the travelers under his domain. Khonshu, the owner of the voice that made the air run cold with fear. Khonshu who spoke to his priest in with caution.

“There is another traveler.”

Jake stopped his marathon to spot him.

“¿Cómo?”, he looked around, “¿Dónde mierda está?! Oh…” (What now? Where the fuck is he?) Jake noticed a man dressed head to toe in black, he looked dumb. Dumb, and intimidating -just like him.

“Fucking. Great.” he exhaled with frustration, “…El Diablo.” He lifted his hands in the air and yes, he tended to do that a lot when he spoke “Of course! Hell’s Kitchen!” he rested his palm on his forehead, “why am I even surprised…” he waved his arms again “Ah, I should have seen this coming from miles away!”, he whispered the last part to himself, so the God wouldn’t join in the mockery.

“I think he can hear you…”

He whistled to get his attention, in response Matt flinched, covering his ears.

“Hey Diablo”, Jake greeted without bothering to raise his voice, despite the distance, calm and charming as always. “Would you mind leaving this one on me?” he continued but his calmness carefully unveiled a threat as he spoke more seriously, lowering his eyebrows.

No response.

Maybe some response but he couldn’t hear it, obviously.

“Can you hear me?”

Matt stood up.

“Great, I-”

And then jumped right into action.

“Ah... Shit.”

“This is going to be a pain in the ass” said Khonshu as Jake ran to catch up.

It took a moment to approach the containers, but when he did, he saw about ten men, all armed. Most of whom were looking alarmed, aiming their guns at random spots in the sky with the sliest of sounds, looking around like idiots. Four more were already knocked out by a threat they didn’t see coming.

“There!” One of them yelled, pointing on top of a cargo at pour Jake, who hadn’t even touch them (yet).

“Joder.” (fuck)

The men started to empty their guns at him. He quickly leaned back to escape their range. He wasn’t fast enough though his tie revealed, as it billowed in front of his face framing the enemy around a hole that wasn’t there before.

One bullet too close to him. Then another one as he ducked scratched the flesh underneath his ear. At that moment Marc or Steven would have summoned the suit. Jake on the other hand, wasn’t a big fan of it.

He sticked on summoning it just enough to cover his wound, leaving the bandages loose to fly around in the air as the rest of him remained in his usual clothing.

Khonshu looked down at his avatar “You’re pathetic Lockley.”

“El Diablo… The Devil… ¿Dónde está?” (where is he) Jake asked, taking deep and controlled breaths to cancel out the pain and ignore the insult.

“Taking care of another business. Don’t tell me you thought it would be only them.”

“How- how many more?”

“Can’t tell.”

One of the men sneaked in from a different angle to shout at him as he was distracted. This one managed to hit his shoulder. He did his best not to scream as he was pushed back by the force of the bullet and gritted his teeth making a hissing sound as he crawled back, away from their range, pulling his gun out.

“Don’t waste all your strength at them. Finish them quickly and move on.”

“They are not who we are looking for, solo están- (they are just)”

“Don’t you trust me? …Jake mijo (my son)… Look at you! You’re already holding a gun.”

Jake looked at his ghoulish skeleton. He was right. Turns out he knew him all too well.

“Stand up. Raise and fight them, just how I taught you.”

And just like that Khonshu summoned the suit. White bandages were crafted out of the wind’s swirls, embroider themselves deep around Jake’s wound. And from there, just if they had dived inside his veins, they started to shallow his body, tightly holding him together as they settled in their proper positions. If you were to pay closer attention, you’d see that for a moment those bandages resembled puppet strings, illumined by the moon light, being handled by the sky lifting his body up without his will. It looked painful, but then again, all healing is painful in its own way.

The suit was different than Marc and Steven’s. It wasn’t all that put together, bandages were dirty and loose, like they were flying in the wind but still bright like the moon. The shapes they made weren’t all that unique, if he was a mummy, archeologists would say that it belonged to a worker, or even a slave. His cape also matched the rest of his outfit, looking as old as Khonshu, torn apart like the faith on a forgotten god, trying to fight his way through the human mind. He was an old script, a papyrus of dusty prayers and a place of worship and sacrifice for just before war. So holly his skin burned, a saint who owned his place though sin.

It took him a moment to get used to the cold grip of the armor on his burning body. It felt exactly how it looked like. A prison, a cell big enough as his body, with only a small window around his eyes, connecting him to the world, bringing the New York breeze on the bridge of his nose.

Gunshots brought him back to reality. He sighed and turned around, so his cape was facing the shooters -it was either that or approaching them like Dracula. He- He wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t sure if any of this round’s bullets had reached him, if they did, they must have healed faster than adrenaline runs out. Those who definitely didn’t reach him, ricocheted from his cape. From the sound of it, one of the enemies was down. From the following sound, one dropped his gun and run away. And from the next, another one followed him.

Jake carefully turned to face them. One man on the ground and the two deserters making their escape as the other’s brain stopped working trying to figure out how to kill a bulletproof man.

“What are you waiting for?”, said the god, “You don’t have all night.”

But Jake did nothing, he just stood there locking eyes with a shouter who had lowered his gun. He was speechless, probably no one had warned him that he would go up against a superhuman. Was their boss really that ignorant?

“Lockley.” The unearthly voice spoke again, angrier this time. He had barely managed to focus on it when another bullet hit him, right under his stomach. That wasn’t right, he wouldn’t be able to feel it for more than a second, he should have healed, he should have-

A scream escaped his lungs he couldn’t stop it as he kneeled on the ground his left hand trying to keep as much blood inside as possible.

“When will you learn.”

“He can be shot! Avoid the cape!” his shouter yelled.

Even through his gloves and bandages he was too familiar with the weight on his palm, to recognize it immediately: his pistol, still in his hand, ready to be used any second now.

I have to, don’t I?

And there, as he laid one with the cold surface of the cargo trying to keep himself from making another sound, he stretched his right arm towards the men trying to get away, he pulled the trigger and watched in horror as a bullet came out of his gun, hitting the closest one in the head and yet another one piercing through the other’s back.

The god took a long and arrogant breath and Jake felt a shiver running through his body. Not sure whether that was a good sign or not, but soon enough, he began to heal.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“No, padre.” (No, father) he promised, his name poison on his tongue, or maybe just an icky medicine that children hate, even if it’s for their own good.

He jumped from the container, the wound being still fresh, tearing him with every move as he landed on one of the men, kicking him to the ground. He tried to get up, but Jake’s fists got to him first, he then took his gun, disarmed it, and hit him in the face with it.

The other’s circled him, still insisting to use guns. “Ah, not this again”, Jake thought as bullets started flow. One of them was shot by his own fire… Again. “What are they stupid?!”, he continued his inner monologue as he turned around, flipping his cape so hard, that he managed to drop everybody’s guns, hitting their hands in the prosses.

Two people rushed to grab his arms and pushed him backwards. Jake tried to flex his legs and run vertically on the container to escape them, but his attempt was cut short. A fisher’s rope was forced on his neck pulling him even harder as he choked. He could feel his sight getting darker as he gasped for air. He balanced his feet and despite all of his instincts pushed forward just enough to grab a dart from his chest and desperately stab the man behind him. He wasn’t even sure if any of his hits were delivered or even where, he just held on to the dart tightly, moving his arm repeatedly as fast as he could, like a fish in the shore flipping its tail for a change to come back into the waters.

The man let go of his arm, but he wasn’t the one holding the rope. With one move he put all of his weight on his right side and turned slightly to see the man holding his left arm. He threw the dart at him, forcing him to let go.

His arms were free, and he wasted no time. He found the hands holding the rope, grabbed them and flipped the man over his head. He fell with a loud noise on a container. He was the last one.

Jake walked slowly towards him taking deep breaths and kicked him like a rug when he tried to get up.

“Stay down puta!” He yelled, voice rusty and painful from the choking.

He didn’t listen.

“I said: Stay. Down.”

He put his boot on his head and shoved it on the ground, twisting his foot like stepping on a cigarette bud.

“There… there…”

And kneeled over him.

“So… Now is the time where you tell me who your boss is.”

The man didn’t answer so Jake decided to offer him a deal.

“I was in a good mood today, you know that? Real good mood until one of you fuckers ruined my night. But I guess it can still be saved for both of us, no need for any more violence just a simple conversation -you know.”

The man stared at his eyes and asked.

“Who do you work for?”

“I serve no man.”

“Mogart? Hydra? I know a mercenary when I see one.”

He took a deep annoyed breath “The only think there is to know about me, is that I’m holding the gun.”

“He has no name. The man you’re looking for, has no name!”

“That was helpful”, he said ironically stepping harder on his head.

And just as he did that a flying stick hit him on the neck.

“Don’t touch him.” a new voice said.

S-steven? Jake asked himself.

No!

Steven no, listen-

I- I’m-

I’m sorry, I had no choice, trust me that’s not who I am!

that’s not who any of us is, especially you!

Don’t you ever forget that, not like Marc did

No.

Not like Marc

Not this time

You didn’t need to see this- I won’t hurt him I’m bluffing.

Just bluffing I swear!

This is all just an act

an act

An act,

Just an act…

…

Steven?

No, that-

No, that’s not possible-

“WHO?!” Jake asked out loud.

He didn’t realize but the guy under his shoe had escaped. Was he knocked out or just dissociating? He couldn’t tell but he was present now, conscious, mostly. He turned around and saw a man with a black cloth covering his eyes.

“…Diablo …What did I tell you?” he threatened as he slowly stood up.

“You killed those men. Why?”

“Why don’t you tell me? You got to them first.”

“I didn’t kill them.”

“But I did, what’s the point?”

“You can’t make decisions like that! You’re not-”

Jake laughed and answered after a moment like it was a hilarious fact that felt more personal to him.

“Only “God” can make these decisions, am I right?” His voice cracked at the end just for a moment, a moment that made Matt feel like the man in front of him could break down saying these words, or maybe he has already. But that was just Matt’s senses, no one other than him could see Jake’s true emotions, himself included.

“Don’t tell me you see yourself as a god.” Were the only words that could escape Matt’s mouth that wouldn’t change the subject.

Jake laughed again, softer this time. “God of getting myself in annoying situations...”

“Is that what death is to you? An annoyance?” He continued, trying to read him even though he already understood that all of his questions were heading in the wrong direction.

Jake tried to think fast and his experience of dying made up his answer quickly “Well it is annoying if you think about it enough.”

Matt got confused by his words, he wasn’t talking about killing. No, he knew what dying feels like- but how? He took a step forward, stepping under the moon light to ask Jake the first right question. “Who are you?”

A blue light. It’s illuminating on gold feathers.

So bright that it almost blinded Jake.

A hand toughed his chest like it was gabbing itself from his heartbeat.

Voices.

But- we have each other, right?

I’ll always be here for you.

Don’t leave me!

I won’t leave you!

You lied.

You can never be whole.

You’re too broken Spector.

But- we are a team ain’t we? We are one!

…Don’t make me laugh!

You lied Lockley…

To all of them you lied…

To yourself you lied…

You are the weak link…

And you were supposed to bring them together,

Instead you teared them apart,

Just because you were afraid.

The hand let go of Jake and in the faded lights he saw three silhouettes. They were young boys, but they suddenly grew older and more violent, running towards Jake. He covered the eyes of two little boys standing next to him. He didn’t realize when they appeared. Maybe they were there all along. Together.

Together Jake,

together.

Together

“What were you doing with Fisk’s men?”

The light was gone, so were the voices. Now Jake was standing again alone in front of Matt, probably looking like an idiot, trying to figure out… Everything. This had never happened before. No this-

“Why did you do that?”

“I- I didn’t… My boss…” Jake answered trying hard to put together a sentence as his mind drifted away.

Fisk.

“Fisk!” He said, finally holding on one thought, “Is he the no-name guy?”

Matt answered something but Khonshu’s voice covered it.

“Did you sense it?”

“What?” Jake asked hopping that either of them would elaborate further.

“I said you must be new in Manhattan.” Diablo answered.

“Hardly”

“He has it.” Khonshu declared, covering Matt’s voice for once more.

“Has what?”

“What?”

“THE AMULET YOU FOOL!”

For the first time Jake took closer attention to Matt. His clothes were dirty, and his fists covered in blood, a feeling way to familiar for him. Seeing him like this… he wanted to tell him that he knew how hard it was, bringing justice, vengeance while being only a human. To tell him that it’s ok to lose some battles, to take a break, to forgive himself for all the lives he couldn’t save. He wanted to-

He's carrying a bag. Did he had it before? Is the amulet-

“Yes, it’s in the bag! Get it!” Khonshu ordered.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you…”, Jake threatened, “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, kiddo… You better return it so I can give it to its rightful owner.”

“Kiddo? How old do you think I am?”

“Well, you’re still playing ninjas in your pajamas...” Jake lifted his eyebrow underneath the mask.

“Lockley, what are you doing?! Get it now!” Khonshu interrupted again with his annoying voice.

“Ugh, look I don’t wanna fight, if you could just hand it over to me, it will all be over.”

Matt stepped back to protect his bag from Jake.

“What is it?”

“Nothing you should be worried about.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You should. You don’t want the danger associated with it.”

“They said there would be weapons.”

“You think you want the danger, don’t you?”

“Is this a key?”

“Dios mío, es estúpido!” (My God he’s stupid) He said frustrated, looking at the sky.

“No soy tan estúpido como para dártelo” (Not stupid enough to hand it to you)

Jake was surprised with the white boy’s accent but felt mostly irritated, he wanted the privacy of expressing himself in a language only he could understand, and his Yiddish wasn’t that good.

“Wow… hablas español… estoy tan impresionado…” (Wow… You speak Spanish… I’m very impressed) Jake pointed out unimpressed.

“Nop, creo que eres.” (Nah, I think you are)

“…Sabelotodo.” (Smartass)

“Stay down!” Sabelotodo yelled at Jake as he ducked a bullet coming from across the river.

“How the fuck did you do that?!”

“I’ll tell you another time.” He answered as he started to run away from the containers.

“Espera!” (Wait!) Jake called as he tried to catch up, but Matt just ignored him, heading for the nearby buildings.

“Diablo!” he yelled again when he saw a van with broken windows following him. It was speeding up, ready to hit him when he jumped and started climbing up a building. Two men fired at him from the windows, but he always knew where the bullets were aimed at and avoided them with ease.

Jake jumped from a container to the top of the van, startling the men. A voice inside of him pleaded to kill them, an easy kill it wouldn’t take more than-

But Jake didn’t listen, he didn’t like that voice. He didn’t know to who it belonged to, it was all too blended, without any sign of getting clearer. Who knew, maybe it was only him showing his true nature …Nah… That’s more of a “Marc guilt trip situation”, he knows better than that.

The men kept trying to shoot Matt and he did well by himself, but for how long? He couldn’t be trusted to get out of this alone! He‘d never heard about the infamous Daredevil being bulletproof or having any powers of that sort. He had to save him.

So he broke the windshield with his elbow and got into the van. He fought for the control of the wheel and after a series of slaps and punches he managed to take hold of it and veered it all the way to the left. Like a train going of the tracks, the vehicle crashed into a dumpster as he made an exit, jumping out of the window and roll all the way on a wall across the street.

“That was… Wow…” Matt thought as he heard the wheels squeaking and two crashes one after another. He stopped for a moment and focused on the man at the bottom of the building. He did all that to save him… Why?

But he couldn’t stay longer, more men were following them, some up ahead, he needed to escape. As soon as he heard the man breathing.

He’s breathing.

Ok, time to go.

“Diablo!” Jake groaned again. Matt wanted to stop, he wanted to return the favor even if the man was dangerous to him. But he had to leave him on his own. “He’ll make it... I think”.

Jake stood up, with the power of the suit and begun to climb the fire escape, but Matt had already reached the top. There he sensed more men, running on the roofs of the nearby buildings. He took a moment to stabilize his breathing and slow his heartbeat; there was more to this fight.

“Stop running away!” Jake yelled at him from two floors below.

“Shhh! I We’re surrounded.” Matt whispered.

“What?!” Jake yelled from a floor below and in response Matt shushed him, louder this time.

“Ok, ok, calms!” he finally whispered as he reached Matt.

“They’re after us. Three of them almost here.” Matt informed him in the same volume.

“You know you don’t have to do this.”

“Protect my city?”

“Getting involved in my business.”

“Who even are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

“You don’t need to run away from these men, they’re after the artifact not you. If you just-” Jake suggested as he slowly moved his arm near the bag. But Matt had enough of it

He yelled “No!” despite insisting on whispering and twisted Jake’s arm. But Jake didn’t act hurt, instead he scolded him with a shush. “We don’t have time for that, lets run away from here with the amulet! Together, ok? Whatever! Just- we need to leave now!” but Matt had already made his mind.

“Get away from here!” he ordered him, and then pushed him down the stairs to get the lead.

He then ran to the rooftop and realized that the men had really circled him from the surrounding buildings. He chose to head away from the river parkouring his way out towards one of them. The man was getting closer to him, and he started to fire, but he avoided the bullets, hiding behind metal doors and walls and just dogging them as well as he could.

It didn’t last long though. He was too focused on the man ahead and got distracted by the rest of them, two rooftops to the left yelling.

“Kill the Devil and don’t let Moon Knight get the thing!”

The other man shot right next to Matt’s ear making all of his senses blank for a moment leading him to fall to the roof below him, damaging his leg in the process.

“I GOT HIM!”

“Run, get the stuff!”

He took a moment to breathe, from what he could tell, his leg wasn’t fractured but it still hurt like hell. Thankfully, he was used to fighting with even more painful injuries, but this time he couldn’t get up fast enough. The men were approaching, and he was still trying to balance himself. They would take the key (or whatever that thing his carrying is)!

When he had first touched it, it echoed a metallic melody, but it didn’t feel cold like most metals do. As soon as he took it in his hands, it adapted to the warmth of his gloves, almost as if it was alive. Still it felt light, like a feather but as soon as he put it in his bag it sunk heavily at the bottom.

For a moment the melody grew stronger, Matt was barely up, and a men were about to jump on the roof from above, throwing him down again. With a loud sound, synced with the artifact’s they instead hit the concrete floor. It took a moment for Matt to comprehend what had just happened as he let himself continue the effort of getting up.

“Diablo.” …Of course it was him. He said unmasking his face.

The men tried to fight back but Jake jumped to the roof, putting them down again and continued; “You’re stepping into my battlefield, playing hide and seek with my enemies, taking my loops and you expect me to treat you nicely?” He threatened, out of character because yes, for the most part he was treating him kinda nice.

“That’s it my son…” Khonshu encouraged him as he slowly walked towards Matt, “Do my will.” And in response Jake strengthened his glare.

“Stop following me!” Matt yelled, unaware of the conversation.

“Can’t do.” He said being only a few feet away from him.

Jake just looked at him softly for a moment, a stare full of regret and pain that unbeknownst to him, wasn’t delivered. The thought that even the sliest of efforts to communicate his true will, didn’t reach anyone would make him more than afraid, it would make him gone, his essence, his true self, all he believes he can hold on to.

Where does Jake Lockley end and Khonshu begin if only one’s thoughts are being acted upon? His brain forever changed by unknown, ancient forces, being turned into a literal fucking-freaking bird house demanding to be feed fucking over and over again with freaking blood!

Where is Jake Lockley? Does he even exist if mindlessly he follows orders to survive?

Not again, not like when he-

Does he even have anything of his own? Something that is just truly his, not Steven’s or Marc’s or even Khonshu’s but something only for him, a love, a passion, anything that’s pure Lockley and nobody else can alter.

A stare, a stare to say, “It’s me, I am me, I… I don’t want to do this”, being forever lost as Jake took a long breath and punched Matt on the ribs. He was surprised, for a moment he though that his new acutance wouldn’t actually get that far. He knew he was way out of character even if he couldn’t see him, even if he just met him.

Jake continued, he was now running like a machine, he put all of his thoughts away and focused on Khonshu’s fight. He tried to punch Diablo on the head, but he deflected it, he wouldn’t be allowed to give up so soon, so he tried again. This time not only Matt deflected it but as he ducked, he punched his kidney, the only part of the body that wasn’t hurting until now… Great.

In response Jake slapped his arm away and then his face. It wasn’t that good of a hit as a punch would have been, but this wasn’t his goal, was it? He then grabbed him by the head to keep him still as he kicked him right under his lungs with his knee until he collapsed again. Now it was his time to take the bag but Matt, managed to kick him of his feet and rushed to get on top of him, punching him in the face with an anxious rhythm.

“You won’t let him get away.” Khonshu ordered. He was standing on the roof above, but his voice still felt like a whisper, boring his ears. At times like this his words gave Jake a headache, like drilling into his skull and pushing his thoughts in him with all of his power. Jake groaned but the deeper the drill went the more it started to sound like a scream. A scream that gave him the strength to punch Diablo on the throat and throw him of him.

…For a moment that was. Until he saw a gun. During their fight one of Fisk’s men sneaked into the roof and was now aiming at Matt. Jake rushed to tackle him to the side, getting him out of his aim ending up on top of him. The bullet landed right next to Matt’s ear and scared them leading Jake to roll them away from the spot, hiding them behind a wall.

He stood up and offered his hand at Matt, who without a second thought took it. If he did have a second thought that would be “What are you doing Mathew, get away from him!”. And he would be correct because as soon as Jake helped him stand up the punched him in the face, throwing him on the wall. This led them to a boxing match that was only interrupted by Jake pulling Matt closer to him when he got near the man’s aim.

Jake turned his back at the shooter, hiding Diablo from his view and pushing him away with his punches as well as he could. He managed to throw him face down on the ground, still hiding both of them behind the cape that kept the bullets from piercing through their skin.

He had to deal with the man, but not before he would get his hands on the amulet. He unzipped the bag, Matt resisted, he kicked him, but he only managed to get him hurt, not stop him. He finally turned around and with both of his feet kicked him in the face, dropping him down and offering a clear shot for the man aiming. Matt could worry about that, but a rolling metallic sound got his full attention.

“No!” he yelled, as the melody of the artifact became more distant.

“Lockley, now!” Khonshu ordered.

It was his chance; run and catch the amulet while Matt was down, leaving him to the mercy of Fisk’s man. Khonshu wanted him dead anyways, at least in that way he wouldn’t have to carry the guilt, right? No. He couldn’t let a good man die, even if it was inevitable, he had done that many, many times in the past he couldn’t bare it anymore …That’s what he says to himself every time. “This time will be deferent.”, “I’ll convince him!”, “I’ll find a way, for once I’ll do what I want.” But he never reaches his goal. Having his own will is well… pointless.

He knew, as always that no matter what he wanted, he was Khonshu’s tool, the will was his, so is the guilt, if he can even have that emotion. The death that he had brought in his name had never made Jake happy, he tried to create lies to tell himself, to reason his actions and for a time he believed them. That time is over. Killing a man who’s saving Manhattan over and over again, whose goal is actually the same as Khonshu’s, this is madness. The madness of a god who’d gone greedy.

“Lockley!”

He made his choice, without even realizing it at first, he stood up, faster than Diablo and kicked him again on the ground.

He left him to catch the artifact, so did the man. It was a rase, he was getting closer but then without even realizing it, Matt grabbed him and pushed him backwards, leaving Fisk’s man to get it.

“What are you doing?!” Jake yelled at Matt but before he could answer the man started shooting again.

“Lockley!” Khonshu yelled again.

And again.

In his brain everything happened so slowly but at the same time his body moved so much faster than he could control. The man hid the artifact in his pocket, as his other hand holding the gun moved higher. Jake pulled his gun out once again, failing to keep it out of the fight aimed and hit the man on the head.

“We’re on the same team!” he yelled at Matt.

Matt sensing the lack of a heartbeat didn’t hold back to answer.

“I’m nothing like you!” and rushed to get to the corpse but Jake stood in his way to stop him.

“Doesn’t matter! Bad guys have lost, the amulet is safe!”

“You’re mad!” He said trying to get away, but this time Jake was using way more force than before, unusual of a normal human. He took a deep breath and carefully said to Matt,

“Listen close -I know you can. Help me give my boss what he wants.”

Then suddenly he added something more in the sentence with a whisper as silent as a breath.

“To your right!” and punched him on the right side of the head, looking a bit disappointed and surprised like he was expecting something of Matt.

Why would he announce his moves before acting on them, did he learn to be a superhuman from a children’s show?

“Kick!”

“What are you- Ouch!” he was kicked and lost his balance.

“Ssssssh! Silence sinner! You endangered the travelers of the night, for that you should pay!”

Yes, definitely a children’s show.

“Listen. To. Me.” He almost spelled him out before whispering again “Down!”

Matt obeyed this time, with a small delay and almost ducked his punch. That put a smile on Jake’s face.

For the next couple of minutes they danced together to the choreography of Jake’s whispers, putting on a pleasing show for Khonshu.

“Right leg! throat!”

“Stomach!”

“Down! … Down! … Down!”

Of course he didn’t always tell him where he was going to hit. What?! He needed to show Khonshu that he actually did mean to hurt Diablo. He on the other hand would try to complain, not getting whether or not the man in front of him wanted his wellbeing.

He then spoke in his normal voice “Stop just avoiding punches and fight like a man!”

At that point Matt realized that he had stopped trying to hurt the fucked-up-confusing-murderer-vigilante guy who won’t give him a break.

“Fine!” Jake continued “I guess the amulet is mine now!”

And just as he said that Matt fought back throwing him to the ground near the amulet. You could say he was doing the bare minimum of fighting off Matt, he took most of the punches acting out the pain more that feeling it and only defended himself when he was getting closer to the artifact, until he zoned out looking at the sky.

“My Avatar… Is that really what you want? Humiliating yourself, not using my gifts to your advantage? Are you really that ungrateful to me, after everything I’ve done for you?”

“I-” Jake tried to defend himself but failed as Murdock kept punching him.

“Could you give me a break!” he finally yelled at Matt who was unsure if he should stop or not, but at least he slowed down.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Khonshu continued “Playing war with third class vagilities?” He posed and slowly walked towards him, examining the situation. “You are my son, I know you’re having fun”, he leaned down and looked at him in the eyes, covering the sky with the arch that was his body, only letting the moonlight to flow around him, “I know you enjoy your play but at some point, you have to finish it. It has to end Jake Lockley.”

Jake immediately gathered his strength and pushed Matt off him.

“This ends now.” He declared with the calmness of a wild dog wearing a muzzle as he caught Matt’s hand midair and used it to throw him down, without any warning this time, leaving him helpless in his mercy.

Matt’s world spined around, he remembered the sensation of rolling down a hill as a child, his vision turning everything into a blurry circle, only now everything felt like rolling. “What are you-” he almost asked but he was met by a hit in the guts, enhanced by the power of the suit.

“Finaly.” Khonshu encouraged Jake as he straightened his spine with a rocky sound.

His son wanted nothing but to please him, that’s what he counted on; on his devotion. Marc was easy to control, he didn’t care about himself, nor Khonshu, he mostly acted like a blank vessel, it was easier for him. Besides, it’s harder to make a man who believes in himself to turn to God, than a man who doesn’t see his own value. Because deep inside Marc needed guidance, needed something, someone from above to turn his pain holy, only in that he failed, he failed to who he offered his suffering.

Jake on the other hand always believed in themselves, he was the one who had to, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have faith in something beyond him. That was probably the only thing he ever had in common with the body’s father. All these times he quietly sat in his desk listening to his stories about God, love, and suffering pretending to be his son, they paid off. A one-sided relationship, Jake hidden behind Marc’s mask and a man he had to call father.

He knew what he had to do to survive, he cared about himself, so much so he took the pain from the other’s hands so the system could function as normal as they could. Jake needed a father who could save them, Jake needed someone who saw him, heard him, protected him, someone to held on to. So he behaved in Khonshu’s words, did everything he had to do to be safe, but in reality, he is held tight in the hands of a vulture, nails piercing through his skin, imprisoning him, not knowing if he will be brought to the nest safely, or be dropped as one final sacrifice.

“You make me sick!” he finally yelled, kicking Diablo’s kidney rhythmically. “Why. Won’t. You. Listen. To. Me. Once!” he continued not sure to whom he was referring and stopped. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, then dragged him near the edge of the roof. He pulled him up and made him sit up straight, like hanging a punching bag “Stay. Up! Por el amor de Dios, stay up…” he added as he tried to catch his breath.

“You…” Matt tried to interrupt him, but he was cut short by almost blacking out. Jake sensed that and gently pulled him up again, giving him a slap to wake him up then grabbed his chicks and yelled his face “Is this what you wanted?!” he let go of him and he caught himself just a second before falling face first on the floor “Me beating the shit out of you until you drop unconscious?”. He still hesitated to say the word dead, that was his plan, that was their plan, isn’t it? But he still wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t let himself believe that he is a murderer, not like Marc thinks.

“Stop it! I know what I am doing!” he answered to Khonshu who didn’t even speak yet, but he knew what he was thinking, he wanted death, just as every other night. And death is what he always delivers.

He locked eyes with Matt’s mask and sighed “I can’t keep doing this…”

“Don’t give up Lockley…” Khonshu was by his side.

“I know what I have to do.” He said as he slowly let his eyelids close, like his was about to pray “…No sé si tengo fuerzas para hacerlo (I don’t know if I have the strength to do it)…” he added under his breath.

That caught Matt’s attention, it was like the signals he was sending him, he held into that, into the whispers and waited for more instructions.

“Hazme un favor… por favor, déjame- Ugh (Do me a favor… Please let me- ugh)” he went to say something more but he stumbled into his own words and then exhaled from his nose, like a wild animal, sick of a fight. He picked him up again, bringing him a bit closer to the center.

“Fight me.”

Matt could barely stand up, but he still made his palms into fists and gathered himself. Jake didn’t hold up, he punched him over and over again, just enough so he wouldn’t get down yet.

This wasn’t the rage of a mad man, or the savage brutality deep buried in the human emotion. No- this was still an act, at least part of it was. Matt didn’t always know how he knew, but he knew, he had a sense of seeing someone’s true nature, seeing what’s real and what not and this- this was a play, a play for someone Matt couldn’t really place.

“I think that is enough Lockley.”

Jake didn’t stop.

“Lockley.”

Nothing

“Jake!”

He looked frustrated Matt thought it was him, making him actually mad this time.

“You need to obey me!”

And just as he said these words Jake’s suit disappeared and the wind blew his jacket to the side, making his cold gun visible as he took it and aimed at Matt.

“That’s enough Lockley. Time to put an end to this.”

“Time to put an end to this.” Jake repeated but then added, under his breath “Drop me off!” he then threw the gun and lashed out to Matt.

Matt wasn’t sure if he had heard him right, even though he never heard anyone wrong. His reflexes though stopped Jake from throwing him on the floor long enough from him to ask, whispering “What do you mean?”.

“Let me go, throw me off!” he let himself being pushed.

“What?” Matt answered his voice dizzy

“Off the roof” he pushed him back.

“No, you-” he stopped him

“I have a plan.”

“I won’t- won’t kill you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Wh-”

“I have a plan do you trust me?” he begun to push him again

Matt zooned out of the conversation and ignored Jake, focusing more on the fight but he wouldn’t let him go that easy

“Do you trust me?!”

Matt didn’t answer but he didn’t turn him down either, he gave him a stare that was enough for Jake.

They had reached the finale of the show. Jake had pushed them near the edge again, his strength was starting to run out and Matt had found the power to fight again.

“Lockley, you are making me bord.” The bird complained, staring the fight from above, in his bigger form.

“It won’t last long.”

“I better hope it does not.”

“Who are you talking to?” Matt finally asked but Jake didn’t bother to answer, why did it matter?

Lockley had brought them to the perfect spot. “Now!”

But to his surprise Matt was still unsure. He pushed him a bit and punched him but not enough to be thrown off. Shit, if he doesn’t play his part perfectly Khonshu will realize it is all fake! He must obey, why doesn’t he, it’s just one favor, just one favor.

“Diablo now!” he slapped him.

In response Matt leaned on him pushing him towards the edge.

“I… I can’t.”

“I trust you.”

Matt continued pushing, that was it, just one more- he stopped

“What are you doing!” Jake yelled “You’ll kill us all!” he whispered.

“I can’t do it I’m-”

Jake had have enough of it he pulled Matt from the collar of his shirt and punched him in the face “Do it!”.

“No!”

Then he punched his jaw “Do it!”

“No!” he punched back.

“Now” Jake helped Matt’s hand to punch him harder.

“Now” he repeated being punched in the throat.

“No!” Matt yelled with a punch and again and again and again as his strength worn out.

Jake grabbed the last punch and kicked Matt behind his knee, making him kneel in an uncomfortable way, his spine leaning backwards, feeling the breeze of the edge.

“Is either you, or me.” Jake finally explained.

Matt had figured it out from the beginning, but he didn’t want to believe it, no. In every single one of his fights he always finds a way to keep everyone alive, it never has to end that way and he knows, he knows that if it ever comes to it, he will be the one sacrificed, no matter how awful of a human being is the opponent.

“End it then.” Matt begged.

Jake’s expression softened. He gave him the green light, he chose it, not him, with just one move, a simple one that is, he can go on with his life, the burden of Diablo’s life is not in his hands anymore he could finally breath in and relax the night will be over with just one kill.

“Ok.” Where the only words escaping his mouth. He took a breath and looked away getting ready for one final kick.

As he was looking away a twitching light caught his eye. It was the moon reflecting on Khonshu’s skull, nodding, agreeing with his choice, still guiding him.

Who is Jake Lockley?

Who is Jake Lockley if only Khonshu’s will is being acted upon?

Does he even exist?

Is he his own person?

He missed his kick.

He looked down at Diablo who was holding his breath.

“This is not how it ends.” He said and took a step closer to the edge.

Jake’s heartbeat was steady, he was telling the truth Matt realized, his on the other hand was beating like crazy desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Keep it safe.” Jake balanced at the edge.

“What are you doing?” Jake turned his back outwards.

“Goodbye. For now, Diablo” he took a deep breath lifted his hands wide in the air and fell backwards.

“Wait!” were the only words that could escape Matt’s lungs only to be interrupted by a loud crash and car sirens echoing from the alleyway bellow.

That night Matt Murdock let a man die.

Nights like this have been rare for a while, dealing with such a lost is always hard, especially now that he had pushed in the back of his head all the memories of the pain it costed.

It wasn’t time to morn, the enemy heard the fall, they were coming to get him. He took the artifact and put it back in his bag and run away as fast as his injured self could. As he was getting to safety two men stood in the now empty alley that Jake had fallen, next to a crashed car.

“Tell Bushman he escaped.”

Tags: @moonymelly @nicobico23 @rattymess @pikapuff-316

Comment if you want to be tagged on the next chapters

#moon knight #daredevil #jessica jones #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fanfic #jessica jones fanfiction #jessica jones fanfic #moon knight x daredevil #daredevil x moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x matt murdock #moon knight system #moonknight #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel crossover

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fandom-trash-xl · 1 month ago

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EPISODE 2: GLORIO

Episode 2 time! Let's get this show on the road!

Firstly, an interesting thing they added about Shenron- apparently his multi-wish capabilities are a bonus for the regulars and any new users only get one. I'm seeming to notice with Daima that they seem to come up with a lot of new rules for the lore at the drop of a hat- many of which contradict what we've seen in Super, so it's very interesting how the show's really trying to make itself its own new branch.

I mean, we still have the Universe numbers, but the Supreme Kais travelled over from the Demon Realm. And aren't they born from the special fruit? Does siblingship mean they came from the same branch? Was it travel by choice or were they sent over? Are the Gods of Destruction retconned- now that I think about it how do they get linked up? I'll need time to think on this.

Digressing...

Turns out Mr. Popo has horns and Dende was still considered a child enough to be turned into a baby. When is Namekian maturity? Apparently, he's too young now to power the Dragon Balls. You'd think Shenron would have a self-preservation maneuver to prevent self-destructing himself with this wish.

Bulma's taking the whole shrinking (also they're acknowledging it as "shrinking" since, while they have younger bodies, they have adult mental maturity) situation surprisingly well- plus we got confirmation that's she's coming along for the Demon Realm adventure! I guess it'd kinda be like with Namek where they need a pilot, but hopefully, since she seems rather active in the OP and ending animations, it won't be a "watch the Dragon Ball for us, bye!" while she has a filler-exclusive killing crabs in the ocean moment (oh who am I kidding, I'd like to see the giant crab fight).

Kibito is officially Bulma's errand boy.

Goku can't sit still for a few days and is still trying to get the hang of his distance judgement and flying, all while everyone's having their lore meeting. Then, he comes up with the idea to grab good old reliable, the Power Pole (I honestly forgot it was called the Nyoibo)!

Turns out with everyone flying nowadays, they no longer need it to get to the Lookout, so Korin gave it to Master Roshi, who, in tribute to the gag manga roots, was using it to hang his laundry.

And speaking of these guys:

Korin's apparently not enough of a "friend" to be affected by the wish, unless he's never grown in his life and he's always been like that, so he didn't notice.

Master Roshi is still kinda weird and flirty, but I'm at least glad that in the areas with the potential to be absolutely creepy, they kept him toned down. I think he did a little heart chu at one of the waitresses, but I think that's it. Though who knows what he'll do on his planned "night on the town".

According to the lore, pointy ears are usually a good but not universal indicator of someone being from the Demon Realm. Five minutes later, Shin then proceeds to assume Glorio's from the Demon Realm based on the pointy ears (I mean, Popo did mention the ship-plane looking similar to Gomah's, but still, they did the emphasis zoom-in).

Anyway GLORIO! For an episode named after him, he sure wasn't there for most of it.

Apparently within the Demon Realm, there are individual Demon Worlds and Glorio's from the third one. He also has some motivation to defeat Gomah. That's pretty much all we know since that's enough for him to pass the stranger-danger check.

Glorio's ship plane is too small for the whole gang- though Vegeta is very insistent on squeezing in there- so they'll have to go in two waves, Vegeta, Piccolo, and Bulma coming along once Shin's old spaceship is fixed. ...I'm foreseeing maybe one or two episodes of Goku and Shin adventures until the full team reassembles.

RIP "Hey, it's me, Goku!"

ALSO Where's Gohan? Where's Videl? Where are they during all this, frightened, scared, and confused?

I'll start the tally:

EPISODES WITHOUT KNOWING HANVI'S WHEREABOUTS: 2

#dragon ball #dragon ball daima #dragon ball daima spoilers #daima episode 2

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estella-havisham-pip-pirrup · 1 year ago

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South Park AU (Beyond the Hotel)

Bare with us because the title for this AU is VERY bad. I literally had no idea what to name it.

anyways this au IS inspired by Doors (the roblox game.) and somewhat inspired by Hell Park

There are 5 or so main groups that are important.

The guiding lights (I need a better name for them cause Wendy is like the only person that guides them) - Gregory, Wendy, Rebecca.

Stan's Gang (Hunters) - Stan, Kenny, Carman, Kyle, Marjorine.

Craig's gang (Vloggers) - Craig, Clyde, Tolkien.

The Girls (Fighters) - Red, Heidi, Nichole.

The Foreign Kids (The Misfortionates) - Estella, Pip, Damien, Christophe.

Everyone here (minus the guiding lights) is ALIVE. (minus Pip he dies in the first chapter because of Damien.)

The monsters are - Bebe, Tweek, Pip (after Chapter 1), Jimmy, Pocket.

SHIPS - Gregstella, KyBecca, Creek, Stendy (maybe some others.)

NOTES - Stan and his friends are professional ghost hunters in a way.

Stan and Craig are cousins so whenever Stan has to travel for his jobs he brings Craig with him and Craig sometimes brings his friends, like now.

Stan and Craig grew up in South Park together. Stan moved away while Craig stayed for his friends and Tweek.

PLOT - A few random things have been happening in South Park. Crime has been on the rise, and people have been going missing left and right. It's all unexplainable. Some blame it on the Mayors poor choice in running the town, others blame it on religious reasons.

Craig didn't really care. It wasn't affecting him other than the mandatory curfew the mayor put in place.

Until it started happening to him. His boyfriend, Tweek Tweak, and his friend Jimmy Valmer went missing.

He calls in his cousin, a well-known "ghost hunter" of sorts. To come investing. See what's wrong.

Stan and his friends come back to South Park. They decide to check out some old hotel nearby the spot where Jimmy went missing. Everything about this hotel is old. Nothing works minus this elevator.

Against their better judgment, they go on the elevator and push up to the 2nd floor. Maybe Jimmy was just playing some big ass prank. He does that a lot.

They get to the 2nd floor but it doesn't top. It reaches the 10th floor before crashing down. They hold on tight to the walls as the elevator drops. They think they're about to die. Yet the elevator stops on a new floor.

Floor Zero.

They open the door and step into a new floor. This looks different than the old hotel they were just in. It looks old time but yet brand new. As if someone was keeping it in shape.

They stumble out of the elevator. Some are sick, some fall to the floor.

Craig falls to the floor as he fights the nausea building up. He hears footsteps approaching him. He looks up and sees around 4 people looking over him. They all shine flashlights at him, some use lighters while one holds a cross. They all speak over each other.

"Oh, Jesus! Are they hurt?"

"What if they're dangerous-"

They all speak over each other. One of the people bends down and looks at him. She glares at him, and she shines the flashlight in his eyes.

"He's safe. Go check the rest."

The others run off, presuming to do the same thing to the others.

"Tell Pip and Nichole to get the bandages... And get some buckets for their vomit."

She looks at him and his eyes. She doesn't give anything but a harsh glare at him.

"You must be really stupid to end up here, huh?"

"Welcome to the hotel."

(if anyone by chance sees this and wants more pls let me know i will GLADLY write more )

#south park #south park au #estella havisham #gregory of yardale #sp beyond the hotel #small fanfic #au #i might write this #stan marsh #craig tucker #stendy #creek #craig and stan are cousins #let me know if you want more of us #how do i even tag this

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wordsandrobots · 1 year ago

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Iron Blooded Orphans G - Urdr Hunt - Episode 18: Horn and Flower's Shadow [Part 2]

So, @trafalgarlog has put up the next set of fansubs for the Urdr Hunt and, well, honestly, I could just let the thumbnail on the video speak for itself this week. However, that would rather defeat the point of making these notes for myself so:

This week, 598 meets the family, Shino and Yamagi drop by for a swift lesson in what it means to be like Tekkadan, and a bunch of no-name pirates learn the hard way why you do not, under any circumstances, mess with the Turbines.

Hajiroboshi (Part 1, Part 2)

Departure (Part 1, Part 2)

598 (Part 1, Part 2)

Corridor of Betrayal (Part 1, Part 2)

Holder of the Ring (Part 1, Part 2)

Unexpected Encounter (Part 1, Part 2)

Venus’ Worth (Part 1, Part 2)

Brothers’ Ship (Part 1, Part 2)

Horn and Flower’s Shadow (Part 1, Part 2)

But first, there is a certain amount of fallout from the last set of revelations. On the Erda II's bridge, the gang reel from Katya telling them that she is the last heir to the Issue Family. She goes on to explain that her mother was one of the Issues' servants and when 'the man who claims to be [Katya's] father' discovered she had become pregnant, he tossed her out on the street. Katya is understandably pissed at this treatment and even more so by the Issues now pursuing her in the name of continuing their line.

She apologises for the trouble she'll cause but begs to be allowed to stay anyway. Range is having none of it. The Issues aren't going to give up. They'll keep coming after Afam Equipment as long as Katya is there. It's too big a risk.

Luckily for Katya, nobody ever listens to Range. Wistario admits that he was incredibly relieved to hear she didn't want to go with Londo Bron. All his friends from growing up left Venus and he was scared she would as well. Korunaru too says she would be lonely if Katya left. Of course she can stay.

Range grumbles -- what are they supposed to do about the most powerful Gjallarhorn family gunning for them? Wistario agrees they can't fight the Issues head-on. They'll have to start gathering information about them and come up with a plan to keep Katya safe . . .

Anyway, enough of that. It's time to check in with the real star of this game: 598 and the kids over at Foundling, who we find on approach to the Saisei (Teiwaz's roving headquarters) in the company of the Rakou Pirates. It seems Tamami intends to introduce her new business partners to her boss . . .

We quickly get a very strong sense of how Tamami relates to Naze and 'big sis' Amida: our stern pirate captain is clearly wound tight at the prospect and wants 598 on his best behaviour. Parstai tries to assure Tamami they'll try not to be disrespectful -- a promise slightly undercut by 598 having to ask what 'disrespectful' means. Tamami tells him to just act like she taught him to. Which turns out to mean announcing her presence outside Naze's door extremely loudly. (I would also like to note that 598 spends this scene following Tamami's lead on neatening up his clothes, which draws attention to the fact they wear their overalls in exactly the same way, e.g. with the zipper open to their mid-drift. That's a really neat design touch I hadn't appreciated before.)

Naze, of course, is thoroughly laid-back, casually welcoming 598 and Tamami in a manner totally at odds with the two of them immediately standing to attention. He's interested to meet the boy Tamami told him about -- though this opens with him saying that he heard 598 led an attack on one of his ships.

A visibly terrified 598 apologises profusely (or at least, loudly - Tamami is a very good teacher on this score, apparently), to which Naze responds that this isn't the kind of thing you can settle just by bowing your head. 598 admits he knows that, right before Amida tells Naze to stop bullying the kid. The matter is sorted, Tamami having already covered the costs.

Naze says sorry for his joke and tells the pair to make themselves comfortable. 598 exhales in relief and the four get down to business. By which I mean, Amida leaps straight in to making fun of Tamami for coming back to them with a 'son'. They thought she'd finally found a man, but instead it's her kid!

598 (still very, very not relaxed) insists he is not a kid, and won't stop being loudly formal on account of not wanting to bring shame on Tamami. Naze carries out introductions and then zeroes in on 598 calling himself Foundling's boss. What does he need a title like that for? Well, because Foundling want to be like Tekkadan, of course.

Amida observes another knock-on effect of their sworn brothers' success while Naze makes a note to tease Orga rotten about this later. Then he muses for a moment and suggests 598 help him out with a job. The Turbines have received a message from one of their ships, which is being trailed by some suspicious characters. 598 will go as backup for the guy they're sending ahead as an escort for the freighter.

Since there are no men in the Turbines (Naze excepted), Tamami wonders who they're talking about. Well, 598 will just have to go and find that out. Amida whisks him away while Tamami stays to talk to Naze.

Having joined Amida and 598, Parstai wonders about the unusual mobile suits they pass on their way through the Saisei's hangars. Are outsiders really allowed in here? Amida says that was the point of frisking them on the way in, then explains they come with Tamami's recommendation and the Turbines trust her judgement. Parstai can understand that: Tamami is extremely honest. Amida thinks 598 is as well, which he takes a compliment and thanks her (I cannot stress enough that he is *still shouting*). But Parstai murmurs that she doesn't want him getting under any more strange influences. Does that mean she wants to take his reins instead, then? Parstai answers Amida's question in the affirmative, but before 598 can work out what that means, they reach their destination.

Inside a rather fetching rose-coloured Kutan III transporter that is currently holding a very familiar pink mobile suit, a certain blonde mechanic oversees the final systems checks ahead of launch. Yep, turns out the 'flower' in the title for this episode is Tekkadan itself. Amida asks Yamagi to come out when they're done with the checks - she has something to talk to them about.

The other half of the 'they' in question immediately reveals himself to be - of course - Norba Shino, stripped to the waist and plugged into a comically long Alaya-Vijnana connector cable. Well, I say that, but it probably makes sense for those things to stretch at least as long as a mobile suit is tall, for the sake of maintenance activities. The shirtlessness is clearly just for the beefcake, since Shino really ought to be in one of the skin-tight suits Tekkadan usually wear while in space (indeed Yamagi is himself wearing one of them in the same scene). And, like, who's complaining?

Certainly not Yamagi, who shows off one of his patented 'smiles for when I'm interacting with my crush and he can't see me' as Shino knocks on the Kutan's window to say his part of the checks are done. At that point, Amida calls Shino over to the gantry.

He's a bit put out since he thought they needed to hurry. Amida apologises and introduces 598 as a kid one of her sisters is taking care of.

Shino remarks that 598 has an interesting name and introduces himself in turn as captain of Tekkadan's first unit. And this is --

OK. Yes. Pause for the inevitable AHHHHHH that is Shino catching Yamagi's hand while floating in the middle of the hangar and proceeding to stabilise him at what I can only describe as kissing distance (to Yamagi's slight protest) then holding him there for the entire rest of the scene while, I remind you, being completely naked from the waist up, with the camera framing both their faces incredibly close together.

Because yes, this is a very thorough reminder that everyone involved in this, Shino's voice actor notably included, is onboard with the ship. But also -- it's just visually neat. Shino pulls himself to a relative stop using the A-V tether, as we've seen Mikazuki do, showing that's common practice for pilots moving around while connected. He then catches Yamagi's hand while barely even looking -- Yamagi is approaching from behind and Shino sticks his hand out *before* turning to see him coming. Which, one, demonstrates these are people in sync with one another and, two, seems like a nod to the fact that the Alaya-Vijnana ups spatial awareness.

But also yes mainly the slash.

Anyway, 598 is stunned to realise he's talking to people from the actual Tekkadan and confirms he's been asked to help them out. Shino asks Amida if that means she wants them to show 598 how they do things?

Yamagi quietly reminds everyone this isn't a game, drawing a sideways look from Shino, but Amida merely remarks that she's heard 'you guys treat your mobile suits pretty well', winning her the award for straightest face in the enter IBO canon (even Shino doesn't buy that one).

But whatever - they need to get back to work. Yamagi pushes off Shino's shoulder and returns to the Kutan while Shino drags himself back down to the mobile suit cockpit. As he drifts away, Yamagi looks back to see 598 bowing loudly to them and notes that the kid's overalls are obviously fitted over an A-V whisker . . .

Upstairs, Naze and Tamami continue their conversation. She is shocked to hear 598 will be helping Tekkadan out, ratcheting her volume straight back up again. Naze explains that Teiwaz is busy launching the new Shiden model of mobile suit and some of Tekkadan are here for technical guidance on it. Lafter, Azee and Eco will be heading to Mars to help them as well.

Tamami comments that Naze must really trust Tekkadan to let them have the new 'suit. She'd heard he exchanged sakazuki cups with their leader? She'd definitely like to meet him too. However, Orga isn't there. Just like Tamami wasn't there when Naze exchanged cups with him . . .

Naze jokingly asks if she's jealous, which she quickly denies. She just wants to get into the position where she can also have the sakazuki ceremony with him some day.

He would prefer it if she was free. It's helped him to have the Rakou Pirates running around on their own. Tamami reluctantly accepts this but wonders if it's safe to trust Tekkadan to protect the ship that's in danger. There's a lot of buzz around them and it can't sit well with the other Teiwaz executives. To which Naze says, well, they've never liked him anyway. [Insert loud doom-flag gong here]

Don't do anything that would make Big Sis sad, Tamami requests. He could say the same to her -- what's this crazy stuff she's been involved with lately? He knows about what's been happening with the Omden Colony Company and the Zan Clan, and he's worried by not having been able to find much background on it. Tamami needs to be careful -- Amida would be sad if anything happened to her.

She says she'd never be a bother to her Big Sis and Naze decides that's enough boring talk. When Amida gets back, they're all going to have a drink together!

On route to the freighter, 598, Shino and Yamagi chat in the Kutan's cabin, discussing Tekkadan's past successes. By which I mean, 598 geeks out over stories of their achievements and Shino reminisces about fighting mobile suits in mobile workers and losing so many friends. He grouses that it's not as if Tekkadan enjoys picking fights, but quickly cheers up as they talk about battling the Turbines and boarding the Hammerhead. 598 is extremely impressed with the guts it took to negotiate with Naze. And what about escorting the Maiden of Revolution to Earth?! Ah, yes, that was their first job - and thanks to it, they now get much bigger jobs and paychecks!

598 can't wait to get Foundling to the same position. Yamagi, however, pours cold water on the extreme himbo energy he is sitting next to by pointing out the danger of the work and how you never know when you might lose someone. They don't even know how things are going to go with this mission.

The kid is concerned by Yamagi's pessimism (and possibly the fucking knife the writers just drove through the audience's heart), but there's no time to dwell on it. They're approaching the rendezvous point and with so much debris and gases around, they're going to lose contact with the Hammerhead. It's a trickier situation than Shino thought it'd be.

Becoming suddenly serious, he orders 598 to be quiet and keep his eyes peeled. An explosion swiftly follows, dead ahead, and Yamagi reports mobile suits attacking the freighter. Shino leaps into action - he'll go stop the enemy in their tracks. There are only nine, no biggie.

Switching to another animated segment, we get a lovely shot of the Shino launching in a repaired Ryusei-Go, which is now an ungodly mash-up of the original Graze Custom and some Hyakuren and Rouei parts. Don't worry though: it still has giant cartoon eyes sprayed on the side of the head.

Shino tells Yamagi to get somewhere he can signal the Hammerhead for help; he'll deal with the pirates. 598, heading out too, protests that this is crazy -- they're outnumbered by a stupid amount and reinforcements are nowhere close. Shino reminds him protecting the freighter is their job. With Tekkadan's name riding on their shoulders, they can't run away without trying. And he proceeds to bullseye a blue and grey Man Rodi with his gun.

The pirates are surprised that the freighter's back-up consists of one extremely pink mobile suit, but Shino dives into the fray with aplomb. However, since 598 is the boss of his crew, Shino tells him to leave with Yamagi. This is Tekkadan's job.

Wavering, 598 asks if he's sure and Yamagi chips in to say he and Shino are just doing what they can. People in Tekkadan do more than just shout.

The Man Rodis begin to overwhelm Shino, one of them managing to grapple him so another can shoot him. Of course, 598 jumps in with the save, shooting him free using the cannons built into a newly-upgraded Monkey Crab Rodi. Shino asks why he came back but 598 isn't sure. All he can say is that he's doing what he can too. Shino grins.

Together, the boys put up a good fight, buying time for the Hammerhead to arrive. But it's a tough battle and they're gradually worn down. As the Man Rodis surround them, the pirate leader tells them they're finished. Shino isn't sure about that though -- nor is he bluffing, as one of the Rodis finds out what it charges in for the kill and flies face-first into the knee of Amida's custom Hyakuren.

The Turbine's lead pilot and all-round badass proceeds to demolish the pirates single-handed, She pauses briefly to ask 598 if he's learning a lot, then lands on the shoulders of the remaining Rodi and blows its cockpit apart by sticking her gun down its collar.

598 yells about how cool she is while Shino laughingly complains Amida took all the good parts of the fight. Which, I mean, yes of course she did, because as I have said before, she is the best mobile suit pilot in the series. This is a someone who goes out taking on a whole fleet by herself and nearly winning, and I'm really happy to get some extra glimpses at what she's capable of.

Afterwards, she expresses mild disbelief that it's over so soon. How sloppy. Yamagi is glad they made it in time and Shino calls out to him, thanking him for his help. But, err, the Ryusei-Go got a little wrecked (again). Yamagi tells him he can apologise by helping fix it back on the Saisei, prompting Shino to complain about having to deal with the Chief, who never stops talking about things over his head (and your humble note-taker to once more marvel at how anyone comes to the conclusion Yamagi isn't the one in charge in this relationship). Anyway, shouldn't Shino have a word with 598?

Shino obediently checks in on the blue-haired gremlin, who is not hurt, thanks to him. Shino protests that he couldn't have done it without 598, either, and offers him a place in Tekkadan.

598 is taken aback. Shino explains Tekkadan is recruiting new members and he should give it a shot. But 598 passes. He's Foundling's boss and has a responsibility to them, so instead he'll aim to stand side-by-side with Tekkadan one day! Shino agrees that could be a bit more interesting and wishes him good luck.

(They're just . . . coming at us this week, aren't they? Twisting those knives and creating Concerns about 598 and co's future. Thanks, Urdr Hunt writers. Thanks sooo much.)

Later, outside famed drinking establishment 'Pub Someday', Tamami catches up with her protege. She's finished her business and heard 598 did as well. How was Tekkadan? 598 says they're a big deal and hopes anew that he'll catch up to them.

But just as he's agreeing that it was a good meeting, the pair's Urdr Hunt rings go off - !

Smash-cut to the Erda II where Katya and Wistario experience the same thing. The next objective is here.

Aboard Mendou's research ship, Slice notes receipt of the fifth waypoint. I see, Mendou says . . .

And, in the corridors of Omden Company HQ, Cyclase gets the same message. Finally.

So yes. Asadgjwaxbefid?AEDchiuaaaaaa!!!!!?!?!?!!!!!

What I particularly loved here is the way in which 598 was contrasted with Tekkadan. Because sure, he's brave and a decent pilot, and he cares a lot about his crew while being quite naive about the wider world. But he hasn't (yet) hit the point of feeling the need to constantly go bigger and bigger. He's chasing the idea of becoming like Tekkadan, sure. However, it's clearly a 'one day' thing. A future goal. This is very distinct from Tekkadan's 'everything, right now' attitude and the fatal flaw of constantly trying to exceed their own legend. For Shino and Yamagi, diving into battle with a vastly larger force of pirates isn't a choice: it's their responsibility as members of Tekkadan (and may I just say thank you to the writer for flat-out having Yamagi concur with Shino about that in an official piece of media; my interpretation of him having the exact same flavour of loyalty and beliefs but in a different register is feeling highly vindicated right now).

For us, the audience, this is a portent of where we know the story ends. For 598, it's an interesting lesson in how far he has yet to go and highlights that for all his posturing, he can recognise how suicidal Tekkadan's approach is, even as he is in awe of what they can accomplish. It'll be interesting to see where that goes, especially with Parstai telling Amida that she wants to take 598's reins. We've seen that she shares a lot of common cause with Foundling, being human debris herself, and that she wants to stay with them. This heavily implies she wishes to start actively leading them and curtailing 598's habit of shooting off in random directions. Since Tamami herself counts as one of those directions, there is some potential for conflict there, though of course our resident pirate captain certainly has the kid's interests at heart too.

Seeing Tamami interact with Naze and Amida was a delight, showing off how different that dynamic is from the core Turbines. Tamami comes across as more of an outsider, left in a slightly weird position by being in charge of Naze's grey-ops team. She obviously wants something she already has (their respect), and is looking for official markers of the relationship that she can't be given. This also really sold the idea she used to be exactly like 598 (and in some ways still is) when it comes to trying to act the way she thinks she ought to.

More Amida, as I have said, is excellent, as is more Turbines stuff in general. It surprised me this took place aboard the Saisei, since I didn't expect the ostensibly Venus-based adventure to stray that far. But it worked as a method of bringing in another fan-pleasing cameo (surely the biggest we're going to get, he said, tempting fate) and I'd say this is the tightest of the crossovers with the series canon so far.

Furthermore, I think this is probably the final nail in the coffin for the idea of Naze himself being the mysterious 'N'. I didn't think it likely but unless he is outright lying to Tamami (which would seem very out of character), he's got to be out of the running now.

Yeah, this was a really fun episode.

I'd be remiss if I didn't take this opportunity to make a note about the chronology of the Urdr Hunt. I believe it is established somewhere that the events of IBO season 1 take place towards the end of the PD 323 (which fits with the wintry travels across North America). Urdr Hunt begins six months after the Battle of Edmonton, meaning we are well into PD 324 when we meet Wistario. Based on timings given in previous episodes, we are now at least two or three months on from that, so likely closer to the end of the year than the start.

Meanwhile, the first few episodes of IBO Season 2 strongly suggest that Tekkadan is very new to using Shidens. So new, in fact, that they've only just started operational tests with them -- the exception being Shino's Ryusei-Go III, which has undergone extensive customisation and that he is clearly quite familiar with (though the fact it has an Alaya-Vijnana, unlike the regular models, might explain why he's so comfortable with it).

This episode is positioned as the bridge between these two points, with the references to Shidens being sent to Mars along with the three Turbines who'll handle the training for them. But it does feel a bit early for that to link directly into what we see happening at the start of Season 2. Perhaps this is the point, therefore, where Shino gets his new Shiden (to replace the Franken-suit he just got bashed-up) and the rest of the new models get delivered later? It's unclear. But it's cool to see that progression, even if only from afar.

[For the purposes of my own fan-fic wrangling, conveniently, I had written a scene of Eugene, Shino, Yamagi and Dante going to the Saisei to get started on working with the Shiden prototypes so I can just say that happens a few days before these events. But it has made me realise I've misread Isurugi's timeline, though not in a way that works against me. Crumbs, writing around stuff still coming out is such a novel experience for me!]

#gundam #gundam: iron blooded orphans #gundam ibo #tekketsu no orphans #g tekketsu #Iron-Blooded Orphans: Urdr Hunt #Urdr Hunt #game #app #fansub #reference #notes #yamagi x shino

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unhingedbutpretty · 6 months ago

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Nyssala's Dear Diary — 2

Somewhere down the Chiontar, 29 Eleasis 1492 DR

Daaaamn diary, no one back home will EVER believe in anything that happened to me in the last ten day. No way.

Shit, even I am having a hard time processing all this weird stuff. This is the first blank notebook we found on the road, and I don't even know how to begin.

So I'll begin from the start: I finally got my day off, and was just crossing the Wyrm's Path when I saw people running. At first I thought that there were some gang causing trouble or something, but when I looked up TA-DAH! A mindflayer ship!

Next thing I know, I was in a pod with a worm squirming behind my eye. The good side (if we can call any of this "good") is that I was not alone. There is a strange sense of relief when you're fucked up, but there's some more people who are just as fucked up as you, you know? Fucked up camaraderie, that is.

So now I have a whole bunch of new fucked up comrades! The first I've met was Jaleem. He's tall, handsome, and has this angry scar in his face that gives him a mysterious look... Almost made me forget he was a seldarine. Of course I haven't told him... [the next lines were carefully scrapped over] ...he's a paladin and all! Really cute.

There's also Ilya, they're half-drow-half-eladrin, a very funny fellow. They said that Jarlaxle Baenre is their father, my blood froze a little bit, I confess. But well, ... [the next few lines are full of erasures] ...as long as I keep my mouth shut I'll be ok, I guess? I wonder how they are so sure that Jarlaxle is their father... Tip off: stay away from them while they're casting spells.

A githyianki threatened us, but we soon became friends. She's strong, weird-looking and a bit bossy, totally my type, but it seems like she's also Ilya's type so I won't meddle, you know?

There's a cleric who openly wears a sharran armor, I haven't said anything about it and no one else brought the subject so I'll just let it sink I guess? Anyway she's a bit annoying and she seems to not like the gith, but I feel some unresolved sexual tension underlying the... [there are a few lines of scrapped, erasured text]

That wizard won't shut up, for Lolth's webbed armpits, it's taking all my concentration to write among his monologue. But well he's a good cook. Side note: WTNH THE WIZARD JUST ATE A PAIR OF BOOTS!!!

The elf pointed a knife to my throat, how innovative for surface standards — he later revealed himself a vampire — who later sucked Ilya dry — who we had to protect from Jaleem because he was so PISSED — even more pissed than Ilya themselves, by the way — I know the type, I met a lot of people like him at the city: all sweet talking trying to blow his charms on us... Any of us. Except Jaleem, of course. Tip off: don't fall for it. He wants something. I hope Ilya is aware of that, too.

The "Blade of Frontiers", how someone so gorgeous comes up with a name so silly? He's that kind of person who is drop dead beautiful but seems to be totally oblivious to it... And his voice, holy shit. He could be heroic in my tent, I'd totally play damsel in distress for him. But I guess Jaleem is already on the run for this one. Oh well.

I wonder if the tiefling's flames would still burn me underwater. I mean, the river is right there. Just an idea. What can I say, what doesn't kill me makes me stronger? I have a thing for people who can snap me in two. Guilty, guilty.

Entry 1

#[deardiary]#ic #oc rp #baldurs gate 3 #tav

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bixbythemartian · 4 months ago

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so I was fighting sleep to get this post out last night for some dumb reason- it wasn't urgent and could have waited- but I'm awake now and want to expand on this.

I'm sorry in advance for the length.

As a point, someone in the comments said that they thought that Trump probably doesn't quite understand what the phrase 'late, great' actually means in reference to a person, which I think is possible, although there's a non-zero chance that he actually believes Anthony Hopkins to be dead.

As a further point, when he's talking about Hannibal Lecter as if he's real, I'm fairly certain he just means Anthony Hopkins. He sucks at names and remembering names anyway, so he's not going to switch back and forth when talking about actor versus character. I don't think he genuinely thinks Hannibal Lecter is/was a real guy, although I'm always willing to be proven wrong.

I went to go look and see if I could find a transcript of the speech, but I can't, and I didn't have the stomach for scrubbing through it. I even brought up the youtube video, but it's so long and I couldn't find it in there pseudo youtube transcript thing. Probably I wasn't thorough enough. (I'm fairly certain it was the Minnesota speech on July 27, if someone else wants to go hunting for it.)

However I did find a transcript of Trump himself explaining it in a different speech (Source):

Under the Biden border disaster other countries are emptying out their prison, their jails, filling out their mental institutions. And I go a step further. You know what an insane asylum is, right?? Did anyone ever see the movie Silence of the Lambs? Did you ever hear of Hannibal Lecter, who’s a lovely man? He would love to have you for dinner. He will take you. Many people forget it. Well, yeah, we have a lot of people coming in. They always say, “Oh, that’s terrible for Trump to say! He is rambling about Hannibal Lecter!” No I’m not rambling! That’s what–. We are allowing people from safe asylums and mental institutions into our country by the tens of thousands, and they’re closing down the country. And, you know, the cost savings, of all of the savings? And sending bloodthirsty terrorists, savage gang members and child predators into the United States to prey on our people, to prey on you, to prey on everybody.

Why did he opt for Hannibal Lecter to make this (bad and incorrect) point?

Given that he's sort of half-assed quoting the movie, my theory is that he knows the pop culture osmosis on that one is broad enough that people who've never actually watched the movie (I don't think he knows about the show, I'm not convinced he knows about the book, and I'm honestly not entirely convinced he actually watched the movie) will still get it, and have probably heard the original line quoted or misquoted at some point in their lives. (Actual line: "I do wish we could chat longer, but I'm having an old friend for dinner.") I know the movie is over 30 years old, but we know Trump plays to older crowds.

Why he keeps doing it is, I suspect, because it always draws a laugh from his crowd- I think if it sank immediately without a laugh, he'd drop it post-haste. And now he's added this new bit about 'they think I'm crazy when I talk about this' with the subtext being 'but you all know that I'm not', so it's also now giving him a chance to verbally potshot the mainstream media, which is one of his favorite hobbies.

Also yes, I think he's deliberately conflating political asylum with psychiatric hospitals by referring to them as 'insane asylums' while talking about immigrants.

I don't think he's confused by it, I think he's trying to get his followers to think that people seeking asylum are these crazy Hannibal Lecter-type monsters who are being shipped here deliberately, direct from the 'insane asylums'.

“You know they go crazy when I say ‘the late great Hannibal Lecter.’ They say, ‘Why would he mention Hannibal Lecter, he must be cognitively in trouble.’ No. These are real stories. Hannibal Lecter from Silence of the Lamb.”

Wh… why is he so stuck on this. The best theory I’ve heard is that he’s conflating “mental asylum” and “political asylum”? What? Help? Hannibal Lecter is not dead? He is not real? There was more than one lamb? That was 1991? You’re ten years late even to the tv show fandom, what is happening.

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nohousedog · 1 year ago

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𝗕𝗲𝗻𝗻𝗲𝘁𝘁 '𝗕𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿' 𝗥𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗺𝗮𝗻 ;; bₐd dₒg

Heterosexual ⋆ He/Him ⋆ Forty-One

Occupation ;; Owner of the Junkyard

♫ Currently Playing ♫ ;; Hard to Handle by The Black Crowes

☀ Leo ☾ Leo ↑ Scorpio

His youth wasn’t a pleasant one, from his conception he wasn’t wanted in his family but it was his grandmother that forced his mother to go full term with the pregnancy. That’s why when he was born it wasn’t a surprise that he was put up for adoption and of course every other kid got picked before him. He grew up in the orphanage, learning how to live life between the streets and the unpleasant circumstances of his youth. The kids were all unruly but many of them listened to him since he was the longest resident. From childhood he was bigger than the other kids, as if puberty hit him too early and didn’t stop until he surpassed everyone. He was tall, he was strong, and he was feared. Bennett liked the attention he got though, finding a sense of pride in the friends who were part of his gang. Most of the other kids who weren’t likely to get chosen became a part of what he called the Junkyard Dogs as an ode to those that were left to fend for themselves on the streets. It was when he was fifteen that he decided that life had to be better than the one in there. The people that ran the orphanage did so with an iron fist and he’d been on the top of their shit list since he was never afraid to punch back. Bennett knew it was time and offered a spot for anyone else who wanted to get out of there, a few taking him up on it. One night they’d had it all prepared and made their great escape once everyone was asleep, never looking back.

To keep themselves from getting caught everyone took on another name, a new identity to live out on the streets of the Isle. Bennett was from then on known only as Buster. It was the start of this new life where he met Tristian Tramp who quickly turned into the right person for him to begin again with at his side. That’s how he learned to make money at first, showing him the ropes of stealing then reselling items of interest. It was together that they built up something for themselves after dropping their old lives. Some of the gang from the orphanage stuck around while others dispersed once things started getting hairy. Buster was able to buy the old Junkyard for pennies since it was a complete dump he could fix it but he didn’t want it for that reason alone anyway. Instead, he used it as a place to start selling things the gang stole with Tramp’s guidance. Anything from tvs to nice jewelry, Tramp and Buster were your guys. Once the business started to take off was when he fixed up the main office and got the auto repair shop cleaned up to act as the perfect cover for this operation. Together he and Tramp had created an empire in the back of the Junkyard and were turning a profit for the first time until his partner backed out. Buster was furious that this guy was choosing to settle down with a wife and kids, the whole thing. That had been the very thing he was so against, having grown up without a family of his own to which he thought Tramp felt the same. To him, this was the ultimate betrayal and he never forgave the man for this after all they had built together.

That didn’t stop Buster though, still running the business and finding more people who were in need of a place to call home. The Junkyard Dogs were his runners and for their service, he gave them a bed in their shared apartment, a job at the shop, and all they had to do was live under his rules. He ran a tight ship, making sure things stayed in order, the only fly in the ointment was his little Angel. When she first came into town he knew he wanted her but she was quick to rebuff him. Instead, he offer her a spot in the gang, and without anything else, she took him up on it. Regardless of what she said he became protective of her and regularly referred to her as ‘his girl’, giving her special treatment which in turn meant a more watchful eye. She was his favorite and everyone knew. The gang does the stealing, he does the selling, and as far as he’s concerned that’s a pretty sweet deal for everyone.

#ʙᴜꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ɪꜱ ʙᴜꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ( bio. )

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talesofstyles · 4 years ago

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Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

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aerinsfables · 3 years ago

Text

Never Have I Ever

The Fablehaven gang plays Never Have I Ever. Not really shippy, but will tag for relevant ships.

---

“Never have I ever become an albino courtesy of a revenant,” Seth announced. His face expressed glee as Warren and Tanu each lowered one finger in response. He was down to three fingers left, himself, and Kendra thought he seemed determined to remain in the game.

“Well, never have I ever held Vasilis,” Tanu retorted. The smile dropped off of Seth’s face as he lowered one of his remaining fingers with a quiet ‘nooo’, and Kendra laughed a little as she also lowered one of hers.

“Never have I ever broken my leg by jumping off a roof,” Dale said, which prompted Warren to roll his eyes and lower another finger.

“It’s hard to play this game with people you actually know,” Warren protested. “I was nine at the time, yes it was a stupid choice, thank you for reminding me, now let me think for a minute.” He tapped his chin with the side of his hand and seemed to think for a moment. “Never have I ever… had a body double,” he said as he winked at Kendra, who stuck her tongue out at him and lowered one of her fingers. She had the most points left in the group thus far, so she’d been expecting some targeted statements, but still.

“That’s a cheap shot,” she said as she clicked her tongue in disapproval.

He shrugged. “Hey. There’ve been three of you. It’s not my fault that you’re the only one here who’s experienced that.”

“It’s not as fun as you’d think it is,” she replied.

“My turn,” Vanessa said. “Never have I ever spoken with the Fairy Queen.”

Seth let out a loud, “HA!” and gave Vanessa a high five. Warren applauded. Kendra sighed as she placed another finger down. Bracken followed suit as well. “Clever,” he said, sarcasm laced in his tone.

“Always,” Vanessa responded. “It’s your turn, Kendra.”

Well. Two can play at this game, Kendra thought. And, really, she’d meant for her next statement to be a jibe at Warren and Vanessa anyway.

“Never have I ever been engaged to marry anyone,” she said with confidence.

She’d expected the narrowed eyes from Warren and Vanessa as they each lowered a finger. She’d expected Seth’s guffaws and Tanu and Dale’s smiling eyes.

She had not expected for Bracken to lower one of his fingers, too.

Kendra turned her attention to the young man to her immediate left, who cleared his throat in an obvious - and vain - attempt to move the conversation forward, his face a lovely shade of pink. “Excuse me?” she asked, probably sounding about as shocked as she actually was. She wasn’t the only surprised one, though. Seth shouted, “What?!” at the same time that Warren announced it was story time while positively everyone’s eyes turned to Bracken, whose face flushed a darker shade of pink.

Bracken opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsuccessful at producing any words. “I… it was a long time ago, and an accident,” he said. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“How do you accidentally get engaged to someone?” Dale asked. One eyebrow was pointed upward, and he appeared to be rethinking his entire opinion of the young man in question.

Kendra, for her part, was speechless. She didn’t know what to think. It was most definitely story time indeed.

“I… there was… it was…” Bracken cleared his throat again and scratched the back of his head, his gaze firmly fixed upon the table in front of him. “I was younger then. Still getting used to human socialization, still wandering between the wilderness and civilization. I’d decided to spend some time closer to towns, was low on human currency, and desired to reside inside an inn for a time. There were people in the street who advertised a sword-fighting competition, which offered a cash reward, so I decided I’d participate.”

Still unsure of what to think, Kendra furrowed her eyebrows. Where was this going?

“I’ve… I’m good with swords. The competition wasn’t particularly difficult to win, although the last human I faced that specific day was quite skilled. I digress. I won the contest, was given a large sum of money in a very nice bag, and was also told at that moment that I’d won the hand of the local princess.”

His face burned red. Kendra didn’t know whether to laugh or smack him upside the head. Maybe both? She refrained from reacting for the moment.

Seth, however, was not so well-controlled. He laughed heartily.

“‘The local princess’? When was this?” Warren asked.

“Shhh, he’s still telling the story,” Tanu said. “I want to hear this. Wish we had some popcorn.”

Bracken looked like he was marching toward his death. “A long, long time ago,” he said, “Somewhere in Ireland. Her name was Aoife MacMurrough.”

“So… did you marry her?” Dale asked.

His eyes grew large. “No!” he nearly shouted. He made eye contact with Kendra, who found it awkward to look at him right at that moment, so she diverted her attention to her hands, which still displayed the five points she’d managed to maintain.

“I tried to tell them that I thought this was a competition solely for money, and that I wasn’t interested in marriage, but the king and his vassals wouldn’t take no for an answer. The rules were apparently clear, although they’d somehow flown over my head. I snuck out of town that night and stayed far away from humans for quite a long time after that. I never found out what happened. Of course, I’d also fled to Greece and other countries and did not return to Ireland for a couple hundred years, but that’s a different story.” He reached toward Kendra and lightly touched her shoulder. “I don’t even know what Princess Aoife looked like.”

“How did you not know that you would wind up promised in marriage to a princess?” Vanessa asked, disbelief and disapproval very much evident in her statement. “Did you not listen to the rules? Did the people announcing the competition not make that clear? How is it possible to enter into a contest like that and not know what you’re fighting for?”

Kendra didn’t entirely appreciate the tone of voice Vanessa used, but she was incredibly grateful that her friend had been able to voice even just some of the questions she had on her own mind.

Bracken narrowed his eyes. “I was new to Gaelic, and it was mostly still a spoken language at that point in time,” he replied. “I still don’t know how I missed that bit of information. I blame my empty stomach and longing for a soft bed to sleep in for the night.”

“He was - he was hangry,” Seth said, then rolled off into laughter again. Warren and Tanu joined in a bit as well, the earlier looking up something on his phone.

“It was a poor decision. I know. Go ahead and laugh,” Bracken stated. He once again reached for Kendra. “I’m sorry,” he said in a quiet voice.

Sorry for what? Why should he be sorry? Should she be upset? Did she have a right to be upset? Was she upset? All of those questions and more buzzed about in Kendra’s brain, but she refrained from voicing any of them.

“Wait. Aoife MacMurrough?” Warren asked, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.

“Yes…?” Bracken responded.

Warren chuckled as he read from his phone. “Red Aoife. Married off by Saint Patrick himself. Warrior princess. That Aoife?”

“I don’t know!” Bracken insisted at the same time that Tanu said, “Saint Patrick, huh?”

“Bracken almost married a leprechaun?!” Seth cried out before yet more raucous laughter escaped from his body.

Dale spoke next, after a brief pause to allow for excess joviality from the company who sat around the table.

“Well. That is an odd circumstance,” he said. “I’ve bailed Warren out of quite a few odd circumstances over the years, but never anything like that. Right, Warren?”

Warren laughed. “Nope.”

“Alright then. I think my next move is to say, never have I ever been accidentally engaged to marry someone,” Dale continued. He innocently blinked at Bracken a few times, who looked dumbfounded and then lowered another finger.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” he asked.

Everyone shook their heads while Kendra finally reacted in laughter. The rest of the table followed after her example.

“Are you upset with me?” he asked her.

Kendra let laughter take over her body for a minute, then wiped a tear from one of her eyes. “Upset?” she asked as more giggles escaped from her lips. “Bracken. You are the only person I know who could have done that.” Giggles. Somehow, this didn’t seem out of character for him. The poor, oblivious unicorn.

“What other secrets are you hiding?!” Seth demanded.

Bracken folded his arms across his chest and refused to entertain that particular train of thought. “Nope. One story is enough for tonight,” he said. “Come on. Surely all of you have made poor decisions in your young lives as well.”

“Sure, but I never wound up promising myself to someone else by accident,” Vanessa shot back.

Bracken only rolled his eyes at that comment. “I believe it was my turn, next, before Dale stole it from me,” he said as he leveled Vanessa with a cool glare. “Never have I ever controlled someone in their sleep.”

Vanessa ran out of fingers at that one. “Very funny.”

“Always,” he retorted, copying her tone of voice from earlier on in the evening.

Kendra opened her mouth to interrupt them before they could launch into one of their infamous arguments, but Tanu beat her to the punch.

“Never have I ever been near Zzyzx,” he said.

Everyone else at the table groaned and lowered a finger, except Dale, who simply smiled. Warren ran out of points, Seth only had one left, Bracken had two, Tanu and Dale were each down to three, and Kendra still held onto four.

“Your turn again, Seth,” Tanu said once the damage had been assessed.

“Never have I ever… um…” he looked at his sister. “Never have I ever written letters to a dragon prince.”

Kendra could feel her face grow warm as she lowered a finger. “Warren and Vanessa are out, so it’s my turn,” she announced.

“A dragon prince?” Bracken asked. This time, his eyebrows were raised in surprise.

“I knew him as Gavin in his human form,” she said with a sigh. “He was actually Navarog.”

If Bracken’s eyes could have grown larger, Kendra was sure that they would have at that statement. “Excuse me?” he asked, in much the same tone as she’d asked him earlier. “I feel that another story time is in order.”

“Nah, we all know that story already,” Warren announced. “You two talk about that one between yourselves later. It’s Kendra’s turn now.”

“But-“

“Never have I ever drank an enlargement potion,” Kendra interrupted.

Bracken narrowed his gaze at her, but dropped the subject. For the moment.

Tanu lowered one finger. “Ouch, Kendra. I feel like I’ve been singled out.”

“Sorry, Tanu,” she replied with a smile.

Bracken huffed. “Never have I ever been duped by a demon dragon,” he stated.

He was astonished to find that everyone except Dale put their fingers down. Seth ran out of points, Tanu had one left, Kendra was down to three, and Dale and Bracken were still at two.

“All of you?!” he asked.

Dale shrugged his shoulders. “I never met the guy,” he said. “They all went adventuring with him.”

“Except me,” Vanessa elaborated. “I probably would’ve caught on if I had been there, though.”

“Let’s not start this up,” Warren said at the same time that Dale announced, “Never have I ever been in prison.”

Just like that, Tanu was out of points, Kendra had two, and Bracken had only one left.

“Never have I ever been trapped in a barn,” Kendra said. Dale laughed and lowered a finger. One left.

“Never have I ever had coffee,” Bracken said.

“Really?” Dale asked as he ran out of points. “Never?”

“Not once,” Bracken replied.

“How-?”

“You were in prison when coffee as a drink was invented, weren’t you?” Kendra laughed.

Bracken’s ears turned pink. “Maybe,” he admitted.

“You’re getting a cup in the morning,” Dale vowed. “I’ll make it for you.”

“Thanks…?” Bracken asked, sounding unsure whether or not he even cared. He turned toward Kendra, who still had two points left. “No coffee for you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t like the smell.”

“Who doesn’t like the smell of coffee?” Dale asked, sounding utterly flabbergasted.

“Kendra,” Seth, Warren, Tanu and Vanessa all replied in unison.

Dale stared straight at Kendra, who laughed when he whispered with so much melodrama that he could only be Warren’s brother, “But. You were my favorite.”

“Hey!” Warren protested. “I’m your favorite!”

“Well, you might be now,” Dale said. His gaze turned back toward Kendra. “How can you not like coffee? Coffee is life.”

“I… I didn’t realize you liked it so much,” Kendra replied.

“The way into Dale’s heart is a healthy serving of coffee every morning,” Vanessa said.

“She makes the best coffee ever,” Dale confirmed. “No other woman will ever take her place.”

Kendra wasn’t sure what was happening. This game was getting ridiculous. Whose turn was it, anyway? She recounted the latest movies and realized that this game was down to just her and Bracken, he only had one point, and it was her turn.

She smirked. “Bracken,” she began.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Never have I ever won a sword-fighting competition,” she announced.

Bracken lowered his pinky, while Kendra waved her two remaining fingers in his face. “I win!” she taunted.

“That’s not fair,” he playfully complained.

“Totally fair,” Warren insisted.

“I lost three points from one story!” he exclaimed.

Seth shrugged. “It be like that sometimes.”

“Kendra survives the night,” Tanu stated. “Now we all know who to target in the next round.”

Vanessa raised her eyebrows in a somewhat threatening manner which made Kendra wonder what other embarrassing material was going to be paraded about that evening. She looked around to find similar expressions on most everyone else’s faces, too, and laughed when she realized that she would be running out of points very quickly. “No repeats from this round,” she said.

“That’s fine with me,” Tanu said. Everyone else nodded and voiced their agreement.

“Great! I’ll go first!” Seth announced. “Never have I ever run away from a fiancée!”

Bracken planted his face into the palm of his hand while everyone at the table enjoyed a solid laugh.

#fablehaven #aerinm writes #warrenessa #brackendra #again this isn't really shippy so don't come at me with protests about how it's not fluffy enough lol #have some nonsense #it's been a while hahahaha

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clearlydiamondz · 4 years ago

Text

Who Are You?

Erik!Stevens x Black!Reader

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

(Y/N) and Erik have known each other since they were kids, they have been fooling around with each for the past few years. After leaving her for months with no contact, he pops up with a not so settling surprise.

Warnings: Blood, Cursing

(Y/M/F/N) : Your moms full name

(Y/D/F/N): Your dad’s full name

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

Erik!Stevens x Black!Reader

“It was a nice time seeing you again.” Sean said licking his lips at her as she smiled at him. This was the 4th date they been on, things starting to get a little more serious with him and honestly she was enjoying herself. It’s been five months since she broke up with Erik, and honestly she was enjoying herself. Sure, she missed him. Wondered where he went. She warned him the next time he up and left her, she would move on. She stood by her word.

“Thanks Sean, I really enjoyed myself.” she said biting her bottom lip. “Maybe next time we can have a little more fun.” she said stepping a little further towards him. She most definitely hit the jack pot with him. He owned two dealer ships out in L.A and two in Oakland. He was a gentlemen, kind, freaky. Didn’t leave her on read, it was like he was sent down from heaven.

“What kind of fun you tryna have lil mama?” he said gripping her waist and pulling him towards her as she giggled. “Lemme come in now, show you something real?” he said as she rolled her eyes pushing him away as he smacked his teeth.

“Boy I have work in the morning. I have to be at the office at like 8 in the morning.” she said as he shook his head.

“Yeah, I’ll let you get away with it this time but next time that ass is mine, you understand me?” he said biting her exposed shoulder as she moaned a bit.

“Yes sir.” she said. After they said their goodbyes, she walked inside the house with a huge grin on her face as she took off her heels.

“Who the fuck is that nigga?” she heard. Her head shot up, as she slowly turned around and saw Erik walking towards her with a glass of, assuming Crown Royal. His favorite drink. Next to Hennessey.

“The fuck are you doing in my house?” she asked walking past him, His head turned towards her direction as she placed her purse on the kitchen counter. His eye twitched when he saw that she wasn’t excited to see him.

“(Y/N), answer my fucking question. Who the fuck is-”

“He’s my boyfriend.” she snapped turning around looking at him. Erik busted out laughing, putting his hand out on the counter closing his eyes.

“Yeah okay. I’m going to ask you again. Who the fuck is that bitch ass nigga, (Y/N)?” he snapped as (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“That’s my boyfriend, Erik.” she said taking off her heels. “You know, significant other. Lover. Someone I fuck on the regular.” she said looking at him dead in the eye. Erik soon saw that she was serious.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“As a heart attack. I don’t know what you expected. I warned you that this was going to happen. So you can kindly get the hell out.” she said pointing towards the front door. “And leave the key.”

“You must have lost your mind.” he whispered. “(Y/N), I’m sorry that I left. Really. You know I can’t tell you where I go and-”

“And you know what? That’s fine. You don’t ever have to worry about telling me shit because I don’t want anything to do with you, or whatever the fuck you’re doing.” she snapped at him. “Just-Just leave. Now.” she said.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” she said walking over to him pointing her finger into her chest. “You do it all the fucking time. Months on end. Well I’m putting my foot down. Maybe some other bitch can deal with it but I can’t.” she said to him, her nostrils flaring in anger.

“I understand. I really do but-”

“If you understood like you say you do, you would understand why I cut you loose and moved on. I played along with this for way too long and I need to look out for myself.” she said. Something that she said triggered something in him.

“(Y/N), no offense but I have a lot of shit in my life personally. I have shit to do and you can’t know that. Yes, I be gone. For a long time. But what I do I can’t just, just say out and about because I-” he stopped himself before saying something.

“Because you what?” she backed away crossing her arms over her chest. “Well I know damn well you’re not going to say because you don’t trust me because I’ve known you since we were kids.” she said shaking her head. She was hoping that he would contradict but he just sat there looking at her.

“You really don’t trust me.” she said quietly, looking at him with so much defeat it almost broke him in half. “Get out, Erik. Or I’m calling the police.”

“(Y/N) wait.”

“Erik! Just shut up! You don’t understand how hard and stressful it is not to hear or speak to you, thinking that you moved on with someone else, or hurt or even worse! That shit took so much of my mental state that I couldn’t eat or sleep. You don’t understand! You think that you can come up in here, dick me down, buy me some shit and tell me what I want to hear and all will be well but no. I can’t do it anymore. And if you don’t trust me enough to tell me what the fuck you have going on then I don’t want nothing to do with you or whatever the fuck you have going on!” she yelled at him.

“(Y/N), listen to me.” he said grabbing her hands. “Look, I know what I do to you ain’t right. You don’t have to tell me because I already know it’s true. There are so many things that I want to tell you but I can’t.” he said as she looked down sighing.

“I can’t, do this.” she let his hands go. “Just go, please.” she said, tears rushing down her face.

“(Y/N) please. I-”

“No Erik. Just go.”

He gave her one last look before walking out.

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

“Good morning everyone!” she exclaimed to her staff. “So as you all know, I will be opening a store in Miami. That means that I’m going to need a manager there to run the store. So I am sending out an email, you can apply and we’ll go from there.” she announced to everyone. Chatter spread through out the room, as she made her way to her office.

“Hey, so I sent out the invoice about inventory check list. They should be emailing it to you by the end of the week.” her assistant Tonya said.

“Thanks.” She walked into her office going to her desk and opening up her Desktop.

“Also, Erik came by this morning.” she said as her hands clenched into a fist. “He said to call him when you get the chance.” she said as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah right.” she laughed to herself before opening her email.

“Everything alright? It’s been a while since he stopped by the office.” she said as (Y/N) looked up at her.

“That’s because I haven’t seen him since June.” (Y/N) told her. “No text, no call, no nothing.” she snapped.

“Jesus, that’s five months...” she trailed off as she nodded.

“He came to my house last night when Sean dropped me off. Questioning me about Sean and shit. Like nigga you have no room to be questioning me, questioning me in my house at that.” she scoffed, hearing her phone ding to see it was Sean texting her.

“Forreal? The audacity.” she chuckled sitting on the seats that sat in front of the desk.

Sean: Hey, you free for lunch this afternoon? I know you said you wanted to try out that new BBQ place on 21st street...

She smiled at the text before texting him back.

(Y/N): Yeah, I’ll meet you there around 1:00?

Sean: Sure thing beautiful.

“Anyways.” she closed her phone placing it on the desk. “Erik came by the house last night, telling me he couldn’t tell me because he didn’t trust me. A-And that he wanted to tell me but he couldn’t tell me. Like what am I suppose to think about that? It makes him looks sneaky.” she admitted as Erik nodded.

“Have you ever thought about him being like a... you know. Drug Lord? Or like, a gang member or something?” he said as (Y/N) paused, than laughed.

“A drug dealer? That’s a good one. I’ve known Erik my entire life and trust me, I would’ve noticed if he was hiding something like that from me.” she said shaking her head.

“I mean- think about it? Do you know what he does? Like, career wise. Nigga be driving the newest cars, dripped down in designers, spoiling you with money and shit and you haven’t even thought about it just once.” she said as (Y/N) sat back in her chair.

“I mean, it’s crossed my mind but like I said, it’s just so far from what I know.” she said as Tonya stood up.

“Well, just a thought to think about. I’m going to go down to customer service and get their weekly review.” she said as she nodded.

There is no way that he could be a drug dealer...

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

(Y/N) walked into the restaurant, looking around and seeing Sean sitting there looking at the menu. She walked over to him as he saw her, smiling at her. “Look at you, you look good.” he smirked standing up as she smiled. She gave him a hug, and pecked his lips as she smiled.

“Thank you, same to you. Sorry I was late, my last meeting with a little longer than I wanted too.” she said sitting down on the other side of the booth.

“No worries, I ordered you a sweet tea with a slice of lemon.” he said to her as she smiled at him.

“Thank you.” he nodded closing the menu.

“There is something that I actually wanted to tell you.” he said as she nodded. “Someone reached out to me, by the name of... Killmonger? Said that he knew you.” he said as she tilted her head to the side.

“Killmonger...” she trailed off before shaking her head. “I’ve never heard of them before.” she said as he nodded sitting in his back.

“Really?’

“Nope.” she said shaking her head. “That’s a cool name though..” she trailed off looking at her own menu.

“That’s interesting.. because he said you were his ex.” he said as she put the menu down on the table looking at him. “He knew a lot of things about you, that you lived on South Viker Elm, what cars you drive, your full name...” he trailed off as she looked up at him, scared to death.

“What the fuck..” she whispered.

“You sure you don’t know who that is? Because I’m having a hard time believing you.” he said to her leaning forward as she thought about it before her eye twitched.

“What did he say?”

“He knew your mom name was (Y/M/F/N) and your dad’s name is (Y/D/F/N), you were born in (H/C).” she was freaked out until she realized it was most likely Erik. “Hell I didn’t even know you’re parents name was-”

“Actually, I might have an idea. We aren’t really exes. Just.. just someone that I used to mess around with. He left me a couple of months ago.” she said to him.

“Oh.. it’s that dude.” he said as she nodded.

“Yeah. I swear I don’t mean to put you through this. He came by the house last night and we got into an argument, but that’s about it. I have no idea how he got your number.” she said as he chuckled.

“He didn’t only know my number. He knew my name too.” he said looking at her.

“Sean, I swear. I don’t know how the hell he got that information. I would never do that to you. Did he threaten you?” she asked him as he chuckled.

“Something along that line.” he said taking his drink to his lips. “But don’t worry about that, I handled myself. I just want you to know that ya little ex-fling is tryna check me and that just don’t sit right with me.” he said as she sighed closing her temples.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“I’m just fucking with you ma.” he said as she threw a napkin at him as he laughed. “But I’m serious about the ex thing.”

“Don’t worry, I got something for him.”

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

She walked into the building, to not only be surprised to see Erik reading one of the magazines that was in the waiting area. ‘(Y/N) can we-”

“You. In my office, Now!” she exclaimed quietly. He looked shocked about her outburst, confused she followed her instructions. She put the stuff on the table before looking at him.

“The fuck is wrong with you!?” she yelled at him as he stared at her.

“There are a lot of things wrong with me. For starters-”

“Erik, I’m serious. Why the fuck are you calling him threatening him?” she asked as he still stared at her confused.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Sean! He told me you called him using this name Killmonger, a-and that you were telling him shit about me?” she snapped. “Now I don’t know what the fuck you have going on but leave me and him alone.” she said pointing a finger at him.

It felt like his entire heart stopped. “(Y/N), I swear on my mother I didn’t call no one. What’s his name?”

“Are you seriously going to sit there and play stupid?” she laughed shaking her head. “Erik he knew my mom and dads name! The only person in my life who knows that is you!” she exclaimed.

“Fuck!”

“(Y/N), listen. You can be mad at me for whatever reason. I don’t care about that right now? Tell me what his name is?” he said walking over to her. If there was something about (Y/N), she knew when Erik was in distress. Or scared. The look on his face showed nothing but pure fear.

“Erik, what is it that you’re not telling me?” she asked him. It looked as if he was in deep thought about something, something in which had his mind racing. Like he was debating. “Erik, please talk to me. Be honest. I need to know because if it’s not you someone out there knows shit about me and I need to get that shit dealt with. ASAP.” she said as Erik looked at the door biting him lip.

“Lock the door.” he said as she nodded. She walked to the door locking it before walking back to him.

“The reason why I go out for months at end isn’t because I’m cheating on you, or I’m hiding from you. I get paid.. to do things. Bad things to people.” he said as she backed up a little.

“Do what?” she asked him as he sighed.

“People pay me to handle their dirty work. They pay me to top people off.” she stared at him in complete shock. “Look, it’s not just random people. It’s people that do bad things.” he said as she looked at him. “So all this time, I’ve been fucking a murderer.” she said as he groaned rubbing his handsome his face.

“It’s not like that I swear, it’s just- you know my background. I was good in the military and now I’m good and it pays good.” he said as she scoffed.

“Yeah it pays good until you mess with the wrong people. Erik, some dude name Killmonger got ahold of my shit and-”

“Killmonger is me. That’s what I’m called.” he said as she scoffed.

“So you did call Sean, right? Wow-”

“No, can you shut up? Let me talk.” he said to her. She was taken back by the outburst but he continued. “Whoever that is knows about me, and knows enough about me to get to you. This dude you been messing with, knows too much information (Y/N).” he said stepping in front of her.

“You need to trust me, I need to know everything. I really don’t give a fuck if you’re mad at me or you never want to see me again. I just need to know you are safe.” he told her. She was scared shitless out of her mind. There was so much on her mind at the moment that she couldn’t quite gasp the fact that someone was out to get her. Never mind Erik being an assassin.

“(Y/N), look at me.” he grabbed her chin to make him look at me. “Please, you need to trust me.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie about that if he knew I was going to confront you about it..” she trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe to throw it in my face...” he said as he looked at her. “But I gotta plan for his ass.”

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

“Come in.” She smiled at Sean grabbing his hand. He looked her up and down licking his lips.

“All this for me..” he whispered looking at her. It was a new set she bought a couple of weeks ago, it was emerald green with rhinestones along the bands, her hair was in a slick back bun, her makeup was perfectly done.

“Yup. I told you I wanted to have a little fun.” she whispered starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Sheesh, you ain’t gotta tell me.” he said as she smirked at him. She grabbed his hand leading him to the spare room as he stared at her ass the entire time. “You got in touch with that nigga yet?”

“Killmonger?” she asked tilting her head.

“Yeah.. him.” he said rolling his eyes as she chuckled.

“No. Not yet. I tried to but he ain’t answering my phone calls.” she said as she pushed him on the chair that she had in the room. “But let’s not worry about him... I want my focus all. On. You.” she said pecking his chest. She got on her knees in front of him.

“Oh you a nasty lil bitch ain’t you...” he smirked at her as she smirked back at him. She grabbed the handcuffs as he looked at it laughing. “Oh shit..” he whispered. (Y/N) handcuffed him to the chair. That’s when she saw Erik come out of the closet, putting the pistol to his head.

“So your Sean.” he said as (Y/N) stood up. She grabbed her black robe slipping it over her body as she looked at Sean, Sean giving her the dirtiest glare.

“You been working with this nigga the entire time?”

“Actually no. She cussed me out thinking I called yo bitch ass.” Erik said. “But don’t worry about my girl. Worry-”

“Um, I’m not your girl.” (Y/N) cut in as Erik looked at her. “What? You think you can just say that shit after everything. No.. hell no.” she said looking back at Sean shaking her hand. “I don’t want a relationship with no one.. at all.” she said.

“We’ll talk about that. You.” he said looking back at Sean. “Talk.”

“Man fuck you, ain’t saying-” Erik punched him in the nose, knocking the chair over as she gasped.

“Erik chill!” she yelled as he turned to look at her. “That chair was hella expensive. You think I want his blood all over my shit.”

“Bruh, I’ll buy you another one.”

She rolled her eyes sitting on the bed. Erik sat the chair back up. “Talk nigga.”

“You remember Kingston?” he said as Erik nodded. “That was my brother.”

“Kingston don’t have no brother named Sean.”

“No shit dumbass. You think I’ma use my real name fucking with y’all. I wanted you dead. And it seems like the only family you got is her.” he said nodding his head towards (Y/N). “By the way, (Y/N), at first it was just a get up to get to him but I really do like-” And another punch sent to his face.

“You really think you can just sit up here and confess your feelings to her in my face nigga!” he yelled at him as he coughed up blood. All over her floor.

“Who is Kingston?” (Y/N) asked Erik as Erik sighed.

“A target. He was trafficking girls in Uganda. One of the girls died and the mother offered to pay me a good 10 Thousand to get his ass. Guess what?” Erik said lifting that nigga off the floor.

“I did that shit for free.” he laughed in front of Sean or whatever his name was.

“You get paid that much?” she asked as Erik laughed.

“Nah, that’s probably one of the lowest bids I’ve gotten. The highest I’ve had was like... 10 Million plus an extra 2 million if I could get the target and his crew.” he said as she looked at him in shock.

“Anyways, just know that I killed that bitch ass nigga with no price.” he said. “Like I’m gonna do you.” he said taking off the safety on his pistol making her flinch.

She was scared out of her mind to see him like this. Was he really about to kill him in her house? All that blood and-

BANG!

She looked to see Sean's body lumped over in the chair as she stared at him in shock. “Well we don’t have to worry about that nigga no more.” he said putting the gun in his waist band. “I know some people who’ll come and clean this up. Make it look like someone was never killed here before.” he chuckled. He noticed she wasn’t saying anything before looking at her as she stared at the dead body in horror.

“Oh fuck. I should’ve done this without you in the room..” he trailed off. “Let’s go.” he said grabbing her as he took her to her room.

Erik saw this look before. He knew what was happening. She was going to be scared of him. “You want me to run you a bath?” he asked her as she looked outside the window.

He went to her bathroom, filling the bathtub with bubbles and water. After setting it up he walked to the room to see in her in the same position. He took her undergarments' off before carrying her to the bathtub and placing her in. He bathed her as she stood at the wall.

“(Y/N), baby. Look at me.” They heard the people coming in making her jump as he grabbed her. “(Y/N), it’s just the people here to clean up the mess.” he comforted her as she relaxed some more. He grabbed her make up towel, putting on some of the makeup removal solution she has and rubber the makeup off her face.

About an hour later, she was in the bed as Erik was out in the hallway talking to the people. “Aye, thanks man. I owe you.” he heard Erik say.

“No worries. We gonna cremate the body and throw the ashes somewhere along the river downtown. So don’t worry about it, okay?” he heard a voice say. After a few more minutes before he came back into the room, as she laid in the bed.

“Hey, I’m gonna go. I’ma give you some space.” she heard him say. She sat up before looking at him.

“Can you, can you stay please?” she asked him as he nodded. He stripped from his clothes getting into the bed with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her closer, tracing her arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked her.

“No.. I don’t.”

“Fair enough.”

#erik kilmonger x reader #eriksteven #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger #erik stevens

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six-sanctuary · 4 years ago

Text

Homecoming (Will Miller x Reader)

Author’s note: I’ve never written a fic before but was HEAVILY inspired by all the amazing content @lucrezia-thoughts and @charnelhouse generate (Super hope that's okay!) and wanted to try my hand at it and contribute to Triple Frontier Fr-saturday. (I know I'm a day late whoops)

Also I suck at proofreading I’m so sorry for any errors and hope someone enjoys this. Lowkey proud of myself for not being obnoxiously shy and just saving this to my desktop somewhere for eternity.

Anyways here we go no more rambling this is the fic. If I still dig it later on I might write some more in this lil universe either with Will/Reader or throw in some Benny/reader. Maybe even Santiago/reader if I can get his voice right.

Below the cut is 18+ only please and thanks!

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

You’d always been there, and you always would. It was the sort of realization that crept up slowly on Will. Looking back he wishes he could count the times he counted on you. He wishes he could put it into something concrete like numbers, something that he could wrap his head around, but you were there even before the numbers.

You were there before he was shipped off to war, before he had to learn to count as he breathed, in… two… three… four… five… hold… two… three… four… five…. out… two… three… four… five…. You were there before he broke and crumbled, falling into a million little pieces he didn’t know how to put back together again.

He wished he knew the number of warm smiles you’d given him. He wished he knew what number it took for him to fall in love, whether it was the hundredth or hundredth thousandth soft smile. All he knows now is that so much time was wasted, and he didn’t want to lose a second more.

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

You’d moved to Colorado a few months ago. It had always been part of the plan but that timeline got moved up when Will’s parents announced they were selling the house in favor of something smaller now that they were empty nesters. For a solid week, Will hummed and hawed about it, flip flopping back and forth. The thought of giving up something that was so integral to his childhood, something that had always meant home for him, was hard.

After weeks of his thinly veiled discontent, you came to a solution. After one of his talks, you sat him down in the dining room table of your apartment together and laid out the documents one by one. Rather than explain right away, you let Will take them all in, grabbing each one and skimming it before moving on to the next piece of paper.

“This is…. To buy the house?” Will’s thumbs smoothed over the paper as if in need of a reminder that they were real, that this was real. “My parent’s place?” His voice was thick with emotion, which never failed to bring it out of you. Rather than answer in words and risk your voice failing you, you nodded.

From there it was a lot of packing, a lot of hard work, but with the Delta Force boys help you two managed to get everything packed up in a hauler, ready to make the trek halfway across the country. The thought of being holed up in the car for hours on end with Benny made you the slightest bit nervous. The younger Miller was a bundle of energy and while you appreciated that most of the time, you were wary about being stuck in cramped quarters with the lightning bolt of a man. In the end the cars were split with you and Santiago taking Will’s Ford and Will and Benny driving the Uhaul.

You had a week of the gang’s help, well the gang minus Frankie. He had to head back a few days early to his wife and daughter. The others stayed, even Tom, though he was quick to point out several “serious”problems with the house that you’d need to look into. Despite that, it already felt like home. Sure it needed your and Will’s touch on the place, and a number of things had gone into disrepair as the Millers got older. At some point it had become too much for them, but it was the perfect project for a newlywed couple.

Not once did you regret it. Not when you were lugging heavy boxes up the stairs nor when you learned the roof needed to be replaced. No, each problem was taken in stride because you knew with Will by your side, you’d get through it. There was nothing the two of you could not conquer.

Soon the novelty of the new house wore off and with Benny back at his apartment down the street and Santiago and Frankie back home, you and Will fell into a quiet domesticity. You lived in pieces, your life wrapped up in boxes while you made repairs to the house.

Will, though he meant well, was not as handy as he claimed to be. After the shower incident that required a late-night call to an emergency plumber, your big Delta Force husband was relegated to the simpler tasks, or the ones that required his muscle. If a dresser had to be moved, he was your man, rolling up his sleeves and making it look easy. The same went for anything that required reaching high places (the uppermost cabinets in the kitchen were a real bitch). In the end, Will ended up spending more time turning the side yard into a garden while you turned this old house into your home.

After a month, Will had to go back to work. He’d been requested to give a speech in D.C., back to the other side of the country. As much as you wanted him to stay, you knew that this was important to him. You knew how much it mattered to him to feel useful, to feel good about what he did and so with a kiss to the cheek, you promised him that you’d have the kitchen cabinets all painted by the time he came back.

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

Classic rock was softly playing out of the radio you had set up on the counter. Painting was boring work, even more so all by yourself. The radio made you feel less alone and so you hummed along as you worked. Stroke after stroke of paint was rolled onto the cabinets, breathing new life into the space. It was really mindless work and so your thoughts wandered as you painted. You thought about the home, what other projects you had in mind. If you finished the cabinets quickly enough you wanted to tackle the downstairs bathroom too before Will got back.

He'd called every night but it wasn’t the same as him being here. If you were lucky, you got him on FaceTime and got to see his face light up when you appeared on his screen. Even with the small image of him on your phone he was so handsome, golden and bright. You’d called him your Apollo once, god of the sun, and he’d found that funny. Ben was picking him up from the airport tomorrow and driving him home and then you’d have your sun again.

The opening of the front door snapped you out of your thoughts, your head whipping around. “Honey?” His gruff voice was unmistakable to you. Without a second thought your paintbrush was set down, dripping slightly off the drop cloth though that was a problem for later. Your feet carried you to him, flinging yourself into his arms when you saw him standing there in the foyer. “I thought you were coming back tomorrow.” You nuzzled into his neck, breathing in the smell of him as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “We finished early and I wanted to surprise you.” It was definitely a surprise.

His hand moved from the small of your back to your chin, gently lifting it to place a soft kiss on your lips. “I missed you,” you breathed before stealing another. “I know.” He always knew. He knew every time he left you would miss him and he would miss you. You’d play this game and then he’d come home and reclaim you. One kiss turned into two, which then turned into three and four. Your hands moved to his short blonde hair, moving to the back of his neck to pull him closer, ever closer.

Leaving his bags at the door, you two tangled, desperate for contact, desperate for two to become one again. He picked you up, something you’d normally protest as your feet worked just fine, but instead you let him carry you up the stairs, deeper into your home, to your bedroom.

With a playful grin he tossed you onto the bed, nearly chuckling at the way you almost bounced. His amusement only lasted a moment before lust and his need to have you took over. He descended on you on the bed, lips crashing into yours for a heated kiss as his tongue grazed against your lower lip. He was everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses as his name repeated over and over in your head like a mantra.

Will… Will… Will…

His large hands held your wrists above your head, somehow managing the dichotomy of being gentle but firm, while his lips retraced every curve of your skin. Every time he came back the routine was the same. Will wanted, no needed to learn you again, to cover every soft spot that made you sigh to ensure you were the same as when he had left. He needed to know and so he kissed you, his trimmed beard tickling as he slowly made his way down your body earning soft moans along the way.

He only left your wrists when he got to your legs, separating them and placing one over his shoulder as you laid back on the bed. There he paused, looking down at you so bare and exposed and wet beneath him. It was hard not to move under his gaze. “God you’re so beautiful.” You felt heat rise in your cheeks as you whined out his name. He placed a less-than-chaste kiss on your inner thigh before moving closer, breathing in your heady scent. Licking your folds, he let his tongue circle your clit, smirking at the sounds leaving your lips.

He knew your body like the back of his hand and it took no time at all for him to bring you to that peak of pleasure. Closer and closer, more and more you felt your body respond to him, your hips rolling up against his tongue, hands fisting in the sheets or his hair whichever was closer. “C’mon baby,” he coaxed, slipping a finger into your slick heat, curling it to stroke the soft spot that made you cry out and shudder around him.

“That’s one.”

And you knew your husband would follow through with another. He collected your orgasms like some collected baseball cards, counting each and every one. No night ended with just one, leaving you spent exhausted and so satisfied at the end.

Wiping the wetness from his face, he kneeled next to you, watching as your breathing rate came back down, waiting for the sign that he could have you again. As you blinked the haze away, his hands trailed up and down your side, drawing absent patterns against your soft skin. The look in his eyes of restrained hunger made your mouth go momentarily dry, reigniting the flames of passion within you. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you used your other hand to reach for him, pulling him over you.

It was all the encouragement he needed. After tossing his shirt away, his calloused hands move to your thigh, hiking it up over his hip. You had only a moment to take in the sight of him, the well-toned muscle, the scar on the left side of his stomach, before you two crashed together once more. Your hips ground against the hard bulge in his pants, leaving a dark patch in the denim. You needed more, more friction, more him.

He pulled away only long enough to unbutton his pants, kick off his boots and rid himself of the rest of his clothing. Standing at the edge of the bed, he stroked his impressive length a few times as he admired your naked form. Then the wait was too long and crawled over you, lining himself up and so agonizingly slowly pushing himself into you. You tried to be still but it seemed your body had something else in mind as your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him ever closer.

“Someone’s eager,” he breathed, both of you knowing full well that neither of you had the patience to wait much longer. Pressing his lips firmly against yours, he moved, hips snapping into you at a quick pace, his size stretching you in ways no one else ever could. Your body molded to fit around him, your leg wrapping around him once more in an effort to guide him ever deeper. He bottomed out in you before pulling out and pressing into you again and again and again. Each motion put stars behind your eyes, the fireworks building to another crescendo.

You felt him get closer, the rhythm of his hips losing itself as he continued to thrust into you, hips stuttering as the pleasure overwhelmed. “One more honey, I know you have one more.” His low throaty growl in your ear was enough to push you over the brink, your hands clamoring for purchase on his back and shoulders as you cried out once more. Your core clenched down on him and it took only a few more hurried thrusts before you felt his hot seed shooting into you as he let out a low grunt.

His forehead rested against yours as he remained where he was, not wanting to pull out of you just yet. A thin sheen of sweat covered the both of your bodies and despite that you didn’t think either of you were finished quite yet. You had a full week of time apart to make up for. Will pulled his head back from your forehead to give you another soft kiss, this one lacking the passion and lust but more than making up for that with the love and affection he poured into it. “It’s good to be home.”

#kiki writes #triple frontier #will miller #will miller x reader #will miller x you #will ironhead miller #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction

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katyamorrigan · 3 years ago

Text

‘A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat’ - Chp. 1!

Gang banner by @verdiris

A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat

A trunk of contraband items ends up in the hands of the Crows, but the item that piques their curiosity most is the large box labelled “MONOPOLY”. Kaz is out of the Slat for the time being, so of course they decide to play it. Was there ever a mission more likely to fail than six criminals with lethal skills and undeniable emotional ties all trying to build a make-believe empire without killing each other in the process? Answer: yes - all of the above while attempting to pull off a heist at the same time.

Turns out board games weren’t the only interesting items shipped into Fifth Harbour that afternoon, and now the Razorgulls are interested. It will take all of the gang’s effort to break into two buildings full of rival gang members, regain possession of the contraband, and make it back to the Slat in one piece. And that’s without the inherent strains of playing at business negotiations with a group of decidedly underhand friends.

Join the Crows as they cheat, steal, lie, and bribe each other, all before the heist has even begun.

I am so excited to finally get to share the fic that I have been working on for the @grishaversebigbang over the last few months - A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat! Getting to take part in the Grishaverse Big Bang 2021 has been so much fun, and I have had the honour of working with an absolutely incredible gang of artists and the loveliest beta reader. It’s been an absolute blast, and this is one of my favourite things that I’ve written. Thank you so much to everyone that I’ve worked with, and I hope that you enjoy reading and admiring the story and art that we’ve created!

Here is everyone in my gang, with links to the work that they’ve created (some art may relate to chapters of the fic that haven’t been posted yet - the fic will be posted in its entirety within the next 3 weeks and the art will be linked within the fic on the relevant lines, but also there’s nothing that will spoil the story for you, so don’t worry!):

Corporalki: @davonysus (who is the most wonderful beta reader, thank you for everything that you contributed to this story!)

Materialki:

@ciph3rrr with hilarious Crows-minus-Kaz Monopoly shenanigans from Chapter 1

@j-wirth with this brilliant Inej and Wesper moment inspired by Chapters 2 and 7

@bloodysusher with a gorgeous group moment in Chapter 7

@verdiris with some amusing Kaz geniusness from Chapter 7

@maximumbluebirdpatrol (link still to come)

@emmaxtw (link still to come)

There are 7 chapters in total, so I shall be uploading a new one every Tuesday and Saturday until 25th September. Look below the cut for an excerpt from Chapter 1, and if you want to read the full thing (and check out the collection of all the other incredible pieces created for the GVBB) then click either of the links. I hope that you enjoy!

AHOTBIWTOTG Chapter 1 Excerpt:

The front door of the Slat opened with a loud clatter, and slammed shut on itself seconds later. It made Inej jump in her seat as she sat going over ship documentation - which, as it turned out, there was a lot of - in the front room. Nina gave her a look, and Inej wrinkled her nose back at her; the Wraith didn’t startle easily, but equally, there was usually less banging of doors while she tried to organise her finances.

“Honeys, I’m home!” Came Jesper’s voice. “And I brought treats!”

“It had better be more exciting than that time you came back from Cilla’s Fry with meat pies,” Inej called back. “That was underwhelming.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nina chimed in. “I was more than happy to finish up those.”

“We know.” Matthias gave her a knowing look, and Wylan sniggered as she raised a single finger at him in response.

The bickering that came from everyone trying to work on separate projects at the same time was one of the many reasons that Inej hadn’t made it past the first page of her sailing license. That being said, she joined in the chuckling at Nina’s expense.

“Oh, it’s definitely better than Cilla’s pies, but you’ll have to take a look for yourself.”

Jesper rounded the corner, a large trunk tucked under one slim arm. His face was bright from the brisk, cold air of the streets, and a bead of sweat dropped from his chin as he deposited the luggage on the table beside Inej. She sighed heavily as the wad of pages in front of her jumped with the sudden extra weight.

“Sorry,” Jesper grinned. She just rolled her eyes fondly in response.“Come on, who wants to see what I’ve got?”

Nina, Matthias and Wylan all got up from the neighbouring table and crowded around Inej and Jesper. It was uncomfortable having so many significantly taller people stood behind her while she was sitting, so Inej scooped up her papers and deposited them on the floor, taking their place on the table so that she could get a good look at the trunk.

“Where did you get that?” Matthias asked.

“Well, our dearest Kaz decided to put me on shipment duty and I had to wait around at the Exchange for a boat full of contraband to come in. It took hours, so as soon as I saw something that looked interesting, I used my innumerable skills to swipe it so that we could take a look inside.”

““Innumerable” is a long word for you,” Nina quipped.

A bubble of laughter rose up amongst the group, and Jesper stuck his tongue out childishly. “Fine, no contraband for you.”

“No, I want to look!”

“Be nice, then. I get first dibs on anything cool because I found it.”

Matthias snorted. “What happened to the ancient rule of “finder’s keepers”?”

“I found the trunk, therefore I found anything that’s inside it by proxy.”

“Can we just open it up?” Wylan said impatiently. “I feel like we’re building expectations by arguing like this – it’s probably smuggled whiskey or something.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Kaz?” Inej asked. The others gave her a look of incredulity. “Where is he, anyway?”

There was a brief moment of looking at each other for answers, before Jesper answered decisively. “If he was so worried about what came in on the boat, he would’ve gone himself. And if he isn’t here now, then he’ll just have to accept whatever is left over from the spoils.”

“We aren’t actually pirates, you know,” Inej said.

“Not yet,” Jesper stage-whispered in reply, and Inej found herself grinning, pleased. “Gather around, then.” He beckoned everyone closer like a ringmaster at the centre of a performance.

Inej was surprised to find that her heart was actually beating faster with the thought of what might be inside. Wylan was probably right that they were getting themselves worked up over nothing, but all the same, she couldn’t help hoping that they found something rare or exciting. Perhaps it was gold? Guns? Something dangerous? You could never know when it came to the imports of Ketterdam, and for once Inej was glad for the intensity of life in the city. It could very well be something extraordinary.

The catches on the front of the trunk lifted easily, but there was a thick knot of string around the middle as well. Jesper struggled to untie it, so Inej slipped a knife from her sleeve and cut it off with one flick of her wrist. Giving her a mischievous look, Jesper dug his fingernails under the lid and with a crackle of flaking rust, the trunk opened.

On top there was a loose gauzy scarf clearly intended to keep moisture out of the trunk on the long sea voyage, which had definitely served its purpose; the red print had blotted itself onto the inside of the lid, and there were water stains on it where it had protected the rest of the cargo. Matthias and Nina went to grab it at the same time, but it ended up in Nina’s hands regardless as he passed it to her with a shy smile.

“I thought you would want it, so I was making sure no-one else got there first.”

Wylan made an exaggerated gagging noise, and Matthias’ expression quickly reverted to his familiar scowl.

“Aha!”

Jesper reached forward and pulled out two pistols, both only a little rusty and with a single blue gem stamped into the body of each. With impressive speed he turned around and mimed firing two shots at the wall before holstering them beside his favoured revolvers.

As Matthias pulled out a slim soft-covered book, Inej realised that she was far too focused on the discoveries of her friends and was going to miss out on finding her own treasures otherwise. Lifting up two more scarves – this time green and blue – she found another couple of books which she handed to Nina. Her friend’s focus was pulled away from adjusting her hair under her newly matching scarf to flicking through the pages and wrinkling her nose hard.

“I don’t recognise the language, but I can understand it well enough,” Nina mused.

“Where did the boat come in from, Jesper?” Wylan asked as he opened a small wooden keepsake box full of golden rings in varying levels of ornate decoration.

“Kaz didn’t say, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t pay much attention.”

Nina tutted and continued her reading with Matthias peering over her shoulder. With fingers now covered in rings, Wylan pulled out a long fur coat that smelt of mould. Removing its furry cuffs from the case, Inej reached into the trunk for what seemed to be the last item: a big box made of thick card, with a green cover and the word MONOPOLY emblazoned on the top. The lettering was incredibly clear, but it didn’t look as though it had been done by hand or with a printing press. It had an odd shiny feel to the outside as well, like it had been coated in order to keep out the damp.

Inej sat it on the table and lifted the lid. It came off easily, and revealed a large square of that same thick card in bright red that unfolded into a larger board with regular markings on it.

“What in the Saints’ names is that?” Nina remarked, putting down her reading material.

“I have no idea. It was at the bottom of the trunk.”

“Is it a map?” Wylan suggested.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Inej murmured as she put the board down and looked at what was left in the box.

Underneath that map-like object was a tray divided into several compartments, with little silver tokens collected in one, some colourful playing cards of an unknown variety in another, and some appealing little houses done in an unusual material in both green and red. Beside those lay a rack of what looked like currency, in the same shape and thickness as notes of kruge. Jesper immediately started rifling through it all, mixing up the various collections and inspecting them all with irregular attention. Although Wylan slapped his hand away with a tut, it clearly wasn’t out of lack of interest.

“What is it?” Nina asked again. Taking the board in her hands, she began to stumble through the words written on it.

“Collect 200… something, looks like it could be a currency symbol because it says “salary” after that, as you pass GO... Old Kent Road, another amount of money… sixty? Community chest, Whitechapel Road, same amount of money as the other square…”

As she turned it over in her hands, a slim white booklet fell out onto the table. Inej started forward and managed to snatch it up before anyone else did, although the gesture was useless as she immediately handed it to Nina, who skimmed over the first few lines and let out a delighted noise.

“It’s a game! A board game! Seems like you play by going around the board which has place names marked out on it, and you buy up the land so that you can build houses on it. And you compete to earn the most money.”

“Who’s sending weird foreign board games to Ketterdam?” Wylan said incredulously. “Are you sure it’s not got something contraband hidden in there somehow?”

Inej laughed. “Does a game based on financial gain not strike you as the most Kerch thing in the world? I can well believe a mercher bought this to educate their children on the fun of working under Ghezen.”

Wylan cracked a grin at that, and Nina snorted. She pushed the box towards him.

“Take a look if you want.”

He lifted up the tray of items and ran his fingers along the underside, then looked inside each of the little model houses as if there might be gemstones wedged in the base like on Jesper’s guns. Wylan tapped along the top of the board, but there were no hidden compartments or secret openings. It seemed as though they had genuinely come across some kind of entertainment from another country.

“Shall we play it?” Jesper said with a broad grin at everyone. “We’ve got nothing else on, have we?”

“I’m meant to have applied for my sailing license by the end of next week,” Inej said weakly, but she wasn’t much interested in her own excuse. This bizarre-looking game they had stolen by chance had already caught her attention far more than boat permits and crew-hiring documents.

“I’m happy to,” Matthias said, and Nina and Wylan nodded fervently as well.

“Perfect! Let’s not disturb everyone’s things down here, we can take it into another room.”

“Nobody’s bedrooms are big enough,” Nina complained. “Kaz is too cheap to give us enough space to actually enjoy our stay at The House of Brekker.”

“His bedroom is, though.”