#when your buddy is living it up looking all flashy for the cameras

[archerygun]

I think this is actually the best frame of the movie.

[whocalledhimannux]

@peregrer the What. 👀👀👀 *insert John Mulaney gif of "say more right now"*

ok so when I say "the extent to which I've fleshed out the QT GBBO AU in my head is getting to be embarrassing," I truly and deeply mean it, please enjoy 1,900 words of utter ridiculousness.

first, our competitors:

Legarus - performs so poorly that viewers are a bit confused how he got on the show in the first place, a la Jamie (series 10) or that one guy who made a lime and chocolate cake in the first week.

Chloe - nice flavors and good ideas for decorations, but pretty sloppy. was up for elimination in the first week but came back with a great showstopper.

Melheret - good but not as good as he thinks he is (hence his bread week elimination because of sloppy technique), heavy-handed with the alcohol flavoring

Agape - solid competitor, not flashy but tasty + pretty results. I haven't worked out exact week-by-week themes (that would indeed be Too Much) but I imagine this is something like "Dairy" or "Caramel" or "Vegan," some particular element she just happens to not be strong on. viewers are disappointed by her early elimination

Teleus - Dad contestant. brings in a bunch of weird pans and gadgets he made up himself, does pretty well until it comes to Fiddly Foreign Foods he doesn't know (probably eliminated in French or Patisserie week)

Laela - typically has good flavors and pretty designs but technical knowledge is a bit lacking, so there are usually some flaws in the execution and she's often in the bottom half of technicals

Phresine - Grandma contestant. nails the classics but ultimately isn't creative enough to make it further.

Magus - the "Ian (series 6)" flavor of Dad contestant, often brings in foraged ingredients or eggs from his own chickens or whatnot and revives old recipes/flavor combinations no one else knows about. one week, some of those turn out to just be too weird, leading to his elimination.

Sophos - pretty elaborate decorations and good flavors (on the border of classic and new), but he tends to try a million different embellishments on everything and struggles with timing, occasionally to the detriment of technique.

Kamet - always has really interesting and different flavors and tends to do well in technicals especially, assuming he doesn't get overwhelmed. which is... an assumption (Finalist)

Costis - leans towards classic and indulgent flavors, although sometimes a bit sloppy--the kind of contestant where the judges look at his dishes and say "it's a bit of a mess" and then Paul Hollywood starts laughing because it still tastes delicious (Finalist)

Irene - absolutely stunning visually, queen of the technicals, occasionally gets the "style over substance" warning (Winner)

more details below the cut

I've gone back and forth on whether Eugenides should be in it but ultimately I decided no because I wanted to maintain a pre-show relationship between Laela + Kamet (I thought otherwise at first but then I realized I hadn't left Kamet any longterm friends or family for his finalist video and that's depressing af) and Irene and Sophos which to my knowledge hasn't happened once on the show so far? so having a married couple on top of that seems like it would be a stretch, and also then I think I'd need to make Eugenides the winner on principle and you know what? he can stand to be second fiddle to his wife for a little bit. My alternate backstory for him is that he was actually the winner of MasterChef one year (good with knives), so in the first episode Irene's first little chat to camera is something like "my husband's been bugging me for years to try out and I keep telling him he's got a skewed perspective on cooking competitions, finally I applied just to shut him up... and here we are." Her little video introduction is about how baking is a stress relief from her bigshot job. Her decorations tend to be abstract and gorgeous rather than cutesy.

Kamet, likewise, was nagged into applying by Laela, but she very cleverly framed it as she wanted to apply and wanted him to do it to for moral support. both were confident the other would get in and surprised that they did themselves. This is one of those series where everyone's friendships are immediate and obvious and super adorable (cast of series 10 my beloved...), and in particular these two are holding hands in episode 1. Laela's deep blue robe from TaT sticks in my head for whatever reason so I imagine her making an elaborate blue peacock cake or something one week that wins her star baker. somebody always does a peacock something and it's always impressiev.

Phresine is cool as a cucumber under pressure, always has lovely things to say about everyone else's bakes, and is the go-to last-minute helper because she usually comes in under the time. Irene starts out similar but as the weeks go by she starts to feel the pressure a bit more and cuts it a bit close. Sophos is the worst on timings, and mentions his wife at least once an episode. (I also played with him being single on the show and meeting Helen later through Irene and Eugenides, but this idea is too cute to pass up tbh.) Teleus lives with Relius, a fact that isn't mentioned until a few weeks in when he comments that Relius likes a recipe or gave him an idea for a flavor or something (Relius does not bake himself but will happily sample practice bakes), to the surprised delight of every viewer whose favorite contestant is the oldest gay in any given series (me, me, that person is me).

Costis tends to use a lot of chocolate and, as I said, pretty "classic" flavors--one of those people who makes a full English savory bake at some point. He's usually in the top half of the competition but doesn't get the top until one of the later weeks in the competition, which is a Honey themed week, and he absolutely nails it. The delicate decorations of his honey nut cakes and his use of honeycomb are particularly praised and that's the week he gets star baker. One of those bakers who flirts with elimination the first few weeks but noticeably improves over the course of the show.

My most, like, plot-y ideas are about Kamet (SHOCKER). I imagine he was born in Setra (I usually make Setra a non-autonomous region in my AUs) but arrived in Britain as a child due to [Unspecified Crisis] and ended up with foster dad Jeffa, who was roughly from the same region but not Setra itself; whenever Kamet wanted Setran food as a kid, Jeffa would take him to the library to find recipes and that was what sparked his love of baking. He's well-read on the subject and knows about foods from a lot of different cultures, so he's usually heard of the technical challenges even if he hasn't made or eaten them. He does a lot of fusion flavors, and is ALL ABOUT bread week.

I don't usually make the his-relationship-with-Nahuseresh-is-romantic leap in modern AUs but I think it works for this one because of the nature of the format--Nahuseresh doesn't actually appear on camera but is alluded to once or twice, ends up being Very Displeased that Kamet is doing something for himself, and during the week following Laela's elimination they have the fight that makes Kamet realizes this is actually a terrible relationship and he needs to leave now. He calls Laela to let her know what's up and mentions that, since he'll need to stay in a motel and has presumbly lost his job as a secretary (yeah working for your boyfriend is Bad, he's realized that now), he's going to have to drop out of the show. Laela, despite living in a studio flat without room to host him, immediately thinks "um fuck that" and calls Costis, and within an hour Costis and Aris and a few rugby buddies have moved all of Kamet's things into Costis and Aris's flat, where Costis insists that he'll squeeze into Aris's room (they've shared before, it's fine) and that Kamet gets first dibs on the kitchen for all bake off practices.

None of them actually reveal any of this to the show's producers. Kamet gets a little overwhelmed the following week and nearly walks away from the tent, but Costis jumps in to keep his bake from being ruined, and some soothing words from Irene + the hosts calm him down and he returns to finish. The only mention of the Drama comes in the finale, during the longer video clips they do on each of the contestants. Kamet is deliberately vague about the details of the situation, but Aris shows up in both Costis's and Kamet's videos and references the fact that having TWO flatmates in the bake off is a bit difficult because they only have a standard size kitchen, so he hasn't cooked for himself in a month and has been living off cake and savory breads. one of the hosts talks to Kamet in the tent after that clip is shown and he still won't talk about it in more detail, but says that he wanted to tell people so they could appreciate why Costis hasn't practiced as much the last few weeks (the judges scolded him for winging it a couple of times), and admits that he totally copied some of Costis's techniques for honey week based on watching him at home.

I imagine the finale task is something like an illusion cake--probably with a bunch of additional required elements because the show has been going bonkers with the finale showstoppers in the newer seasons--and Irene wins with a jewelry box containing, among other things, ruby earrings made out of candy. Kamet does a stepwell, and Costis does something architectural (I was thinking castle but something visibly Greek-ish so maybe a temple or a megaron? idk). Irene wins but they're all BFFs and that's obvious, so everyone's delighted for her. The little montage at the end reveals that Irene + Gen are expecting twins, that everybody hangs out all the time, and that Costis + co recently helped Kamet move into his own flat where he's now working on a novel (Immakuk and Ennikar inspired, obvi, leaning heavily on the honey-shared-on-the-road thing and including some recipes that actually work in the narration, albeit still written in an ancient-novel-like-way).

[Obviously not part of the show, but when Kamet mentions that it's time for him to look for his own place, Costis tries to v awkwardly invite him to stay forever and Kamet is like "nope I've got to try this on my own but yes we will go on a date once I've moved out and see how it goes from there."]

[This is so far beyond the scope of the show but also several of them go on to have more baking-related careers and have active social media presences and at one point they're all hanging out and Eugenides pulls out a camera and demands they all produce baking pick-up lines. Teleus refuses and also doesn't believe anyone knows baking pick-up lines off the top of their head or could make them up on the spot. Sophos sort of proves him right by coming up with "you're the apple of my pie," which Eugenides instantly mocks because Sophos's three greatest loves are baking, Helen, and poetry, and that's the best he can do? Helen comes up with "I like my cake the way I like my men--rich, sweet, and bright red," to which Sophos blushes on cue. Irene's is "when I'm with you, I feel like chocolate heated to 50 degrees--I struggle to maintain my temper." Eugenides protests this is more like an anti-pickup line. Irene insists this is the most accurate marriage-related baking pun anyone could ever come up with.

[Laela's is "You and I are like custard--I hope we never split." Kamet's is "You remind me of bread, because I knead you." Costis freezes for a minute and finally comes up with "Fancy a cream horn?" which produces a lot of giggling and makes Kamet slap his arm in such a way that, hen Eugenides posts this video to instagram, fans of the show all go WAIT ARE THEY DATING NOW] [by this point, yes they are] [I didn't even have to google baking pickup lines for this, guys, I legit came up with them on my own, please clap.]

am I obsessed? I might be obsessed

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 17 - prt1

17

Keeping up with the tradition, they all wound up back at Lance’s house. Keith and Pidge were bonding with Blue, his cat a ho when it came to pats... on her terms of course. Keith seemed mystified over what to do when a cat sat in your lap. Blue was a traitor, bunting up into Keith’s chin because she was a traitorous whore with no taste. In the kitchen with Hunk, Lance nursed a mug of warm wine mixed with blood, as Hunk baked. He couldn’t stop himself. He needed to unwind and Lance was happy to provide his kitchen for that

“Did you really break your phone, man?”

Lance looked over the rim of his mug

“Yep. Dropped it on my bedroom floor. It shattered on the spot”

“You said we’d talk... I’m feeling kind of left out man”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel left out”

“Ever since Keith came along, you’ve been acting weird. I know sometimes Pidge can be full on, but I thought we were tight”

“We are tight”

“Then what haven’t you been telling me? I’ve told you things I wouldn’t think of telling Pidge”

Lance felt as if Keith had gotten his wish and staked him through the heart

“It’s not like that...”

“Then what is it like?”

The vampire didn’t have a whole lot of options. He could confess he was a vampire and give Hunk a heart attack. He could keep lying, which was clearly hurting Hunk. He could claim Keith was threatening him, but then Pidge and Hunk would want to take things into their own hands... Fuck... He didn’t want to hurt Hunk. Lying really did hurt. His friends were so special to him that he hated having to distance himself... semi lies were as bad as the real thing

“Okay... okay... the truth is I’m not really over being sick. I’m still feeling sick most of the time and I’m not used to having company all the time. I didn’t want to tell you because you worry about me so damn much. I’ll recover, good as new, but I’m supposed to have spent this last week resting up as much as possible. I can’t help myself, I love hanging out with you and Pidge, so when you invite me I can’t say no. I pushed myself a little too hard to fast, but I promise I’m working on getting better”

Hunk’s eyes immediately welled with tears

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because all I need is to catch on some sleep. You and Pidge are my best friends. I want to make as many memories with you as I can. I also had a call that wasn’t great, so that’s been on my mind too”

“A call?”

“A work call. The woman was strung out of her mind, I had to call in a welfare check on her. It’s been exhausting, but nothing a few good nights sleep won’t cure”

“Man... I wish you’d told me. We could have gone back home...”

“It’s okay”

“It’s not okay. If you’re sick, you need to be resting. I’ll tell Pidge while you get ready for bed”

“Dude, I’m okay”

“Please, stop being stubborn! Pidge and I both know you’ve never been really well. You’re always so pale. But you never tell us anything. We’re your friends, we want you to rely on us”

He’d been told that by Hunk before, playing it off as a low immune had bought him about a years worth of silence on the matter

“I do. I love you guys like family. That’s why... that’s why it’s so hard. We’ll watch what Pidge filmed, then head to bed”

“Absolutely not. I’ll have dad come pick us up. Keith can crash at mine for the night”

“You don’t need to do that”

“I don’t need to, but I want to. Let me help”

Passing Keith off was a terrible idea. Keith didn’t mix well with others. If he snapped anything was likely to come out... but what Lance wouldn’t give for a night without having to worry about waking Keith

“His brother Shiro should be swinging around tomorrow to pick him up. It’ll be fine, it’s only one more night. Plus, if we don’t watch the film now we won’t be able to watch it all together as a group”

Sure, most of Keith’s face was hidden behind the mask but Lance could tell all his expressions from the way his muscles moved. His brain told him that at any rate. His imagination must have been filling in the blanks automatically based on what he knew of Keith’s personality

“You need rest”

“I’ll be resting on my chair. Nothing strenuous happening, other than being in trouble with Pidge for talking. We’ll watch the video, pick out what to keep and what to edit, then I’ll go straight up to bed”

Hunk sighed, picking up the closest tea towel off the kitchen bench as he did

“You better. I’ll still have dad pick us up. And you need to answer your phone”

“I only have my work phone and the home phone”

“Exactly. Two other ways of calling”

“I can’t promise I’ll hear them, but if I see you’ve called, I’ll call back. Deal?”

Holding his hand out, Hunk took it, his handshake firm

“Deal. Don’t go around worrying me like that, man. I’m still recovering from tonight. Did you see that grey stuff?”

“It was the light off the camera. From having the viewfinder open and in night mode. That’s my bet. That combined with dust. Anyway, anything haunting that place would have made themselves scarce thanks to Pidge. I wouldn’t want to be a ghost and on the wrong side of her”

“I thought she was literally going to blow steam from her ears. She was so cranky”

“Especially when Keith tripped. I thought she was going to go turn him into a ghost on the spot”

Lance snorted as he smiled. Keith would be the dopiest ghost. He’d probably actually turn into one, but go around thinking he was human

“So did I. Our little gremlin is viscous. How long do the cookies need?”

“10 minutes. Go on ahead, I’ll be in soon”

“Alright, buddy. Don’t forget to use the dishwasher instead of doing the dishes by hand. Tonight was hard on you too. You deserve to kick back and relax”

“Yep, will do”

Pidge had Lance’s laptop on her lap when Lance headed into the living room

“Pidge! You’re not supposed to be on there!”

Pidge jumped at being sprung in the act

“I was ordering you a new phone. What kind of idiot doesn’t use a lifeproof case?”

“Me when they’re not very lifeproof. You know there’s sensitive files on there”

“Relax. All I did was open the browser. I don’t want to know about your cases”

“That’s beside the point. How you feel if you were one of them. And, it’s not like I can’t buy a new phone from the post office”

“You can, but I’m picking out a good one”

“Nope. No. I just need a cheap one where I can message you guys, take photos of Blue, and watch cat videos”

“Pffft. No. Trust me, you need to embrace the future, no more living in the past. Now, what colour do you want?”

“I don’t care about colour”

“You’re hopeless! Here’s one for $1500”

“Absolutely no way. I can’t justify spending that much on a phone. No. I’m fine with a $120 cheapie”

“You’re not fine and those things are an insult to technology. Help me out Keith”

Keith’s expression said he was in for trouble. Keith would do anything to mess with his life further, including taking revenge by making Lance pay out an unreasonable amount of money. Give it enough time and everything flashy would become standard for much cheaper

“I don’t know if he’s allowed something, or if he’d just wind up breaking it”

“Damn! Nice one. Okay, I’m ordering your phone now...”

“Pidge!”

“... and it’s done. You can thank me later with a shitload of photos of Blue. She’s such a diva. You should make her her own socials”

Lance didn’t love socials. He didn’t love the fakeness. He wished people could see and love the things in them that they might hate because society had made them feel like shit. He only had socials because of Pidge and his Mami. Most of what he posted was of Blue and her perfect little toe beans... with the occasional, less than lady like, tongue blep as she glared at him. He wasn’t putting pressure on Blue to be perfect for an audience

“Seriously?”

“Yep. A new case is coming too. This one should be Lance proof. Do we need to think about putting child safety devices in place?”

“I don’t know, Pidgeon. Do I need to think about digging a shallow grave when I see the price?”

“Maybe... is it for me, or for you?”

“I don’t know yet”

“Then I don’t know either. Hurry up and sit down already, you can have your precious laptop back. I don’t see why you need the desktop set up and a laptop. Both are practically antiques”

“You did both builds last year”

Pidge moaned

“Exactly, antiques. A painful reminder of my youth”

“Keith, do me a favour and punch Pidge in the arm for me. She’s being an idiot”

Keith ignored him, scratching the base of Blue’s back where it met her tail, Blue purring. Everybody in the room sucked. If it worked and did what it was meant to, Lance was fine with it not being the latest and greatest

“Ha! He knows better than to hit me”

“Yeah, because he’s as scared of you as the rest of us”

Pitch ditched a cushion in his direction, that missed him completely

“Rude”

“Merp”

Keith simply snorted at the both of them, Blue was taking up too much of the hunter’s attention. Still, he was going to be the bigger man, no wet food for Blue until she came back and loved him again.

*

The next week of Lance’s life passed slowly. Very fucking slowly in parts. His thirst wasn’t getting better, Keith wanted to fight every day, he didn’t have the energy to keep up with his work, feeling like he was letting all his clients down. Something in his gut was trying to tell him something, and Lance wasn’t sure what it was. He hadn’t heard from Shiro. Keith’s answer to that problem was that Shiro would come back when it was safe. But “safe for who?” was a totally different question. Lance had found that gradually he was getting used to Keith’s presence. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like this kind of uneasy peace. Keith grudgingly ate Lance’s cooking. The idiot had burned toast... in the toaster. It didn’t take a degree to be able to put two pieces in and pull down the lever, but somehow he’d done it. He’d set off the fire alarms, waking Lance, who immediately went into panic mode. Smacking his arm on the wall, he’d burst the blood blister building beneath his skin, smearing blood on the wall, as he swore. Rushing into the kitchen, the toaster was on fire, Lance ripping the cord out the all and dumping the lot in the sink.

Swapping the washing from the machine to the dryer, Lance closed his eyes and counted to 10 before opening them again. He could hear Keith shuffling around in the kitchen. He could hear his phone vibrating on the bench. The way his coffee machine slowly came to life told him he had all of 5 minutes before Keith would be all up in his face demanding that they fight. He could be in the middle of vacuuming and Keith would still pop up and demand to fight. He seemed to be working out a style for himself and organising his thoughts as he did. He still hadn’t decided on Keith, but he had to give him some credit. He kept trying and he kept getting back up... He was still to get an actual blow in that Lance hadn’t allowed. Maybe he was sick from Keith continually beating him up? And maybe he was kind of enjoying things more than he let himself believe. Or maybe his defences were lower than normal thanks to still being sick.

“Lance! Message!”

So Keith was his answering service now? Where was that in the terms and agreements of having his house hijacked?

“I know! I heard! Some dick didn’t bring all his washing out!”

“That’d be you!”

Like fuck it was. His lapses didn’t count when it was his house and he was going through stuff. Watching Keith try to wash and live in two sets of clothes was painful, so now he had three sets, plus underwear and socks of his own. He had a whole damn drawer in the spare bedroom, the Hunter basically moved in

“Fuck off!”

So much for his calming breath.

Heading into the kitchen, Keith had coffee made for the both of them. Yeah, Lance would have preferred tea but Keith seemed adamant on conquering the coffee machine

“Who was the call from?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t check it”

Lance raised an eyebrow

“I thought that was your thing, snooping on people’s calls?”

“Very funny old man. You look worse than you did yesterday”

“Isn’t that good for you?”

“No. I can’t learn anything if you’re half dead”

“If only I’d known that all along. I would have been off the hook long ago”

“Ha ha fucking ha”

“Shut up drink and your coffee”

Snatching his phone up, Lance’s chest went tight, his stomach dropped and his knees nearly went with it

“What’s wrong?”

Opening the message recorded, Lance held it to his ear as his hands shook

“Hi, Lance, it’s Sally here. Your grandmother’s taken a bit of a fall. She was awake when we found her, but we’ve transferred her to Platt General hospital. I’m sorry to drop this on you. If you want to give them a call, they might have more information for you...”

Lance’s phone slipped from his hand, Keith catching it before he could break another one

“Lance?”

“I’ve got to go”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t concern you... fuck...”

He was getting teary. His Mami wasn’t as strong as she’d once been

“Hey...”

Brushing Keith off, Lance started scrambling to get ready, his head already dreaming up worst case scenarios. Had his Mami fallen or had it been something more? Had something happened? Was she not telling him something?

Racing out the front door, he made straight for his car. The key didn’t seem to want to go into the ignition, Lance screaming at it in frustration

“Move over, I’ll drive”

Lance nearly told Keith to fuck himself. He didn’t know why he’d followed him out. Sliding across the bench seat, Keith climbed into the drivers seat

“What’s happened?”

“It’s... I need to get to Platt general”

“You’ll have to give me directions. What’s going on? Who’s in hospital?”

“My Mami...”

Whatever smart reply Keith had for that died on the man’s tongue. Giving a nod, Keith got the key into the ignition, the old bronco starting with a rumble.

The drive to Platt was horrible. It passed in a blur as Lance prayed to whoever was out there that it wouldn’t be something major. Barking directions at Keith, Keith copped all his bad mood and worry, the hunter barely parked before Lance was rushing to get out the car. He hadn’t even bothered to clip in his damn seatbelt for the drive

“Lance, take a breath”

“Fuck you”

“Your teeth are fucking showing”

Oh... he was making a vampire face... fuck... he felt like he was about to throw up across his feet. He needed to see his Mami, and Keith’s presence was the only thing keeping him from completely losing himself. The hunter deserved a break

“Do you know what ward she’s on?”

“No. They didn’t say...”

“Okay, we’ll find out together”

Lance should have known Keith knew all about his family. Keeping his hand on Lance’s good arm, to keep him from running off, Keith talked to the woman at the front information desk, finding his Mami’s room with more patience than Lance had. He’d been here before with his Mami, so he should have remembered the way up to the floor, Keith nearly getting them lost because Lance couldn’t stop the flood of tears rolling down his face over the fact his Mami wasn’t dead. Finding the right ward, the nurse at the desk looked up at them like she was perplexed by their presence, telling them that only family was allowed to see his Mami. With choked words Lance explained that he was her grandson and emergency contact, which was apparently Luis on the hospital side of things. It wasn’t supposed to be him. Lance lived the closest, and he was the one who always made time for his Mami. When the woman looked to Keith, Lance explained that he was Mami’s other grandson, Keith not at all comfortable with the sudden promotion to family. Signing in, the nurse led them to his Mami’s room. She’d fractured her hip in the fall, and done a bang up job on her face, Lance nearly face planting as his emotions grew further out of control.

Propped up on pillows, Lance let out a fresh sob at his Mami’s face. Keith telling the nurse he’d call if they needed anything. His Mami looked so frail, far too frail, her complexion washed out, but when she saw him, she was raising her arms towards him

“Oh, Mijo...”

Walking over to his Mami, Lance wrapped his arms around her the best he could

“I’m okay. It’s just the silly head of mine. I got a little muffled”

“I was so scared”

“I know, you’ve always had a sweet heart. But you know it takes more than a fall to stop me”

Lance snorted a laugh, well aware he was snotting on his Mami’s shoulder

“I was still scared. Sally called to let me know”

“She’s got a big mouth, that one. They say I’m off to surgery soon, time for the good drugs”

“Mami!”

His mother chuckled, her strength wasn’t what it was, so Lance reluctantly drew out of her embrace to sit beside her

“Now, enough of that face. It’s a fractured hip, I’ve still got plenty of life in this old bird”

“You’re not old”

“Says you”

“Touché... fuck... I felt like...”

He felt as scared as when his Papi passed

“You didn’t lose me just yet. My face is sorer than the leg. I’m a tough old duck”

“That doesn’t make me feel better”

“That’s because you worry too much. Now, who is your handsome friend here?”

Right. Fuck... He didn’t know if his teeth were still showing... but this was his Mami and he’d never been that great at keeping secrets from her

“This is Keith... he knows...”

“Nice to meet you “Keith He Knows”... I’m hoping you did the driving and not Lance”

“Uh, yes, Ma’am”

His Mami laughed, her slight wince in the corner of her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Lance. She had to be in a lot of pain, despite what she was saying and how she was acting

“Gracious. Where did he find you. Miriam is fine, dear. Now, I know my son is a worrywart, so could be a dear and find him a cup of tea for his nerves?”

“I think I can...”

“Thank you. It’s nice to see Lance is making friends. He’s so insistent that he’s fine alone. I hope you’re a good friend to him”

Keith took the the opening to flee, Lance didn’t blame him. They weren’t friends... he didn’t know what they were

“Mijo, I’m okay. Where did you meet Keith “who knows”?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does when my baby boy is making friends... or is there something you’re not telling you Mami”

Lance groaned

“You sound like Pidge”

“Ah, she’s a smart girl. Sooo... you and Keith?”

“Aren’t like that... He’s a human for one thing”

“And?”

“And a single drop of my blood could change all that, plus, I’m pretty sure he actually hates me”

“Ooooh, my little Mijo is growing up!”

His Mami must have been high

“Mami, he’s a hunter”

“I can see how that could make things difficult... Is he here to kill you?”

How could his Mami sound so blasé about his death?

“He wanted to. But things happened. Now he’s annoying houseguest”

“I hope you’ve been treating him right”

“Mami!”

“Good chinaware and fresh sheets...”

Lance groaned

“Mami, it’s not like that. How can you be so calm?”

“Because I can tell he’s not going to kill you”

“How?”

“Just call it a Mami feeling”

“I think Mami’s feeling high”

“A bit. A bit annoyed this happened before bingo. That Andy Jefferies always wins the good stuff. His walker might have to go for a walk”

“Mami!”

“I’m just saying... oh, never mind. Luis should be here soon”

Fucking Luis...

“Don’t make a face like that, Mijo. He is your brother”

“I know and someone changed me from their emergency contact here”

“Well Luis and Lisa are thinking of making the move here...”

“I’m already here”

“I know you are, dear. But you can’t chase after your Mami forever”

“I’m pretty sure I can. I mean, vampire and that”

Lance injected scoff into his tone. He didn’t want to seem as jealous as he was. He’d always thought he’d had a special bond with his Mami, and the rest of his family all had families of their own... except for Rachel. She’d had a troubled life, thanks to him

“You know what I mean”

“I do, but you don’t get to think that you’re rid of me anytime soon”

“I wouldn’t dream of such freedom”

His Mami was viscous

“Now, give me hug. This old body doesn’t always like cooperating”

[kairi-chan]

Know Your Name - BoruSara

Genre: Romance / Humor

Rating: T

Sound Track: I Don’t Even Know Your Name by Shawn Mendes

A/N: Pop Star / Reporter AU for BoruSara, written for BoruSaraWeek19 D4 - Music 

---

The crowd outside of The Leaf Hotel was getting thicker by the second, the low murmuring started to turn into an uproar when a fan found that the much-anticipated star was approaching.

“They pulled up for take-out!” She screamed, holding up her phone. “He’s having an Extra Spicy Thunder Burger!”

“Oh my god!” Another fan screamed. “That’s just right around the corner!”

High pitched screaming filled the street, photographers prepared their cameras, and the security took their positions by the pathway.

Sarada took a deep breath and sighed. The frown on her face was starting to look permanent. Her disdain for this crowd, Star and the whole situation just grew more and more by the second. The screaming was starting to give her a headache. Sarada massaged her temples.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” Inojin grinned. “You get to see this pop star up close, get a pass,” he lifted his ID, and then wiggled his eyebrows at her, “And The Leaf Hotel serves the best food. I’m seriously just here for the food.”

She took a deep breath and gave him a look. “I’m not a feature writer!” She whined. “I’m supposed to be covering topics that will get me closer to that front page spread!” She threw her hands up in the air, and for a moment, Inojin felt concerned for the recorder in her hand. “Covering things like the crashing economy, dirty politics and—“

“—all the boring stuff,” Inojin snickered. “I know you’re smart and all, Sarada. But this could be front spread worthy, too.” He lifted his camera and nudged his head towards the crowd behind them. “Boruto Uzumaki is half French, half Japanese, and where did he make it big? America. Of all places.”

She rolled her eyes. The singer had blond hair and blue eyes. His style was so mainstream he could fit anywhere they sold overpriced coffee, avocado toasts, and morning cocktails. He sang about love, living young, wild and free. It was so typical pop. Sarada loathed the idea of having to listen to his songs, read articles about him, and follow his account a month before to prepare for this interview.

She loathed the idea until she actually started listening to his songs and liked them. Not like she would ever admit that out loud. Her editor would never live it down. His Instagram was also… fun to follow. He always posted silly stories, and his feed photos were always on point. He knew when to look goofy, natural, and hot.

“Oh come on, don’t pretend you’re not in the slightest bit interested.”

“I am not.” Sarada pushed her glasses back up her face and straightened her blazer and pencil skirt. “Let’s just take his photo while he enters and we do this interview, eat and we’re out of here.”

Inojin shrugged. “As long as we eat, I’m good. I’m gonna send Chubs photos to make her jealous.”

Sarada rolled her eyes and then laughed. “Okay, okay.”

The crowd started to scream and some of them pushed against the reporters at the back. The two of them were thankful that working for The Konoha Times gave them media passes and special treatment.

A shiny black limo pulled up, and the crowd went wild. Security had to push them back, and all the photographers started clicking away, filling the path with bright flashing lights. Inojin pushed a little forward to take a better photo, but Sarada hung back. She didn’t even bother to record any of the audio of things he might say as he greeted his fans.

Two bodyguards and a man with brown hair and a blue scarf came out first—his manager, Konohamaru—and then, the star of the night, Boruto Uzumaki, climbed out of the car. The crowd was hysterical. Sarada couldn’t help but roll her eyes for the nth time that night. She liked his music, and yeah, he was attractive, but she would be caught dead losing her cool like that.

Boruto looked a little different up close. He looked taller and leaner. His vibe was easy, and his grin looked even brighter if that was possible. He waved at the crowd and said a few words. Sarada couldn’t help but snicker when he switched from French to Japanese and then ended in English. His manager whispered something to him, and then he continued in English, with a tiny accent she couldn’t put her finger on.

It reminded her why her editor chose her for this assignment, because she could speak all of the languages he could, and was notorious for switching languages mid-sentence. It was a quirk that people initially thought was a PR stunt to make him look cute, but the more interviews he entertained, the more believable it seemed. He blew a kiss to the crowd and Sarada could have sworn someone behind her fainted.

She looked at the floor and sighed as she adjusted her glasses. When she looked back up, she and Boruto made eye contact for a split second but she could have sworn he was looking at her far longer than that. He wasn’t smiling anymore, instead, his lips were slightly parted, big blue eyes wide. Her face remained passive and then she tore her attention away from him to Inojin, who was telling her that they had to move to get into the Hotel.

Boruto was being pulled by his manager into the hotel as well. A bunch of other reporters scurried after Boruto and his team. Although Sarada and Inojin tried to make haste, the golden doors were slammed shut in their faces.

.

.

.

“I’m telling you,” Sarada held up her PRESS ID and gritted her teeth, “the two of us are part of the reporters cleared for an interview with Boruto and his team!”

The big security guard crossed his arms across his chest tightly, flexing his muscles. “And I’m telling you, you’re not on the list.”

“That’s impossible!” Inojin retorted. “We’re from The Konoha Times. We’re always on the list of press.”

“Tough luck, buddy. Not this time.”

Inojin continued to argue with the guard, and Sarada was on the phone, desperately trying to reach her editor, but to no avail. It was already past nine in the evening, and the group interview was over half an hour ago. They were all just probably having dinner already. This was horrible. They wouldn’t be granted passes if they weren’t cleared for an interview. The other rival publishers were there, and this article was needed by tomorrow morning.

Sarada needed to find a way to get in. She took a few steps away from the door to clear her head. Inojin’s screaming was starting to remind her of her Mama and Auntie Ino’s arguments. A few more steps and she stopped, as the soft scent of cigarette smoke floated to her nostrils. There was only one person she knew who would rather take a smoke than indulge in pleasantries over dinner. She ran to the corner and spotted him.

“Shikadai!” She grinned, so genuinely happy to see him.

He pulled the stick out of his mouth and blew the smoke away from her direction. He smiled lazily and nodded his head. “Ah, Sarada. I was starting to wonder when the Times would appear. But I was expecting Chocho.”

Sarada laughed. “Yeah, But she’s on leave so you’re stuck with me.”

He nodded his head and lowered his cigarette. “Right. And what’re you, miss Journalist, doing at this alleyway and not inside? Too flashy for you?”

“Ha-ha.” Sarada placed her hands on her hips. “It’s a long story but I need a favor.”

“Ooh,” Shikadai smirked. “Those are expensive.”

“I’ll give you a tip for the next dirty politician I expose,” she bargained.

“That’s pretty solid.” He laughed. “I was just gonna ask for a leak, but okay, sure. Let’s hear it.” He took a long drag and waited.

“I need you to get me and Inojin in there, as well as an interview.”

Shikadai choked and coughed the smoke out. “Excuse me, what? Why do you expect so much from me?”

“Someone forgot to include us in the list. I need an interview with Boruto before the night ends.” She placed her hands together and pleaded. “Please!”

He took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can get you in, but I don’t think I can get you a private interview. I didn’t even get to ask a question.”

Her dark eyes went wide. She never backed down from a challenge. She had gotten interviews from senators, economists, even criminals. Surely getting one with a pop star wasn’t going to be so difficult.

He raised his hands up in surrender, “listen, I’m telling the truth. I can get you in the hotel, but I don’t even know if you can get close to him, let alone his room number. Security is tight.”

She pressed her lips together. “Try me.”

.

.

.

Boruto was showed to his room, one of the best suites in the house. His manager had the room on the floor below, and so did the rest of the team. He didn’t mind sharing, but Konohamaru always insisted he got his own so he could rest up properly. The last time he shared a room with his team, chaos ensued and they didn’t sleep until the sun came up, causing Boruto to look exhausted as hell the following day. Luckily it was a small event.

He looked around and took it all in. “Just another empty hotel room,” he whispered and walked over to the king-sized bed. He let himself fall on the mattress and sink in. Boruto closed his eyes and recalled the questions.

“What’s your next album going to be about?”

“Is it true you’re dating? Is it a boy?”

“Favorite song to play?”

“Who do you want to work with next?”

They were all the same typical questions. Shallow, about his dating life, or his sexuality. He rolled his eyes. When was he going to have a challenge for once? His manager and PR team trained him well, and how to dodge questions. His natural wit and charm had also gotten him out of a pickle on more than one occasion.

“There wasn’t even anyone hot,” he muttered. Some tabloids liked to send attractive looking reporters to try to distract him, but none of them ever worked. They just… weren’t his type. He could have any girl he wanted and has had a few encounters—under wraps, of course. Although not a secret enough for the world to think he was a virgin. Not that there was anything wrong with it. It just didn’t fit his image. He closed his eyes.

And then, a pair of dark eyes flashed across his memory, making him sit up, eyes flying open. “There was one!” He exclaimed to no one. He bit his lower lip, trying to remember. She was in the crowd, outside the hotel. There was a press ID around her neck, but he didn’t quite catch for which publication. She wore a pair of red glasses and she looked so… bored.

Boruto pouted. No one ever looked bored in his presence. She didn’t even bother to record anything…

He closed his eyes again, trying to recall if she was there during the interview and dinner. He couldn’t remember. After a while, he gave up and simply concluded, “Then I guess she wasn’t there…” he muttered. No way he wouldn’t notice her in that crowd. Plus, there weren’t many of them, anyway.

Why wouldn’t she be there, though? He shook his head and stood up. Why was he getting so worked up over a reporter? She wasn’t even there. Not even that pretty. Nope. She had long, black hair and wore a black pencil skirt and blazer, like those stiffs in his legal team. Or the dudes who do his banking for him.

Boruto took a deep breath and walked towards the shower, hoping that thoughts of the stiff reporter would wash away with the water.

.

.

.

It was easy enough for Shikadai to bring Sarada and Inojin in. All he needed to do was convince a waiter to help distract the guard long enough to sneak the two of them in. Shikadai gifted the waiter a coupon for a free issue of the next Rogue issue.

“Aww shit!” Inojin complained. “There’s no more food!”

Shikadai pitied the photographer, but he was getting worried about Sarada. She graduated in Journalism and was currently taking up law school. She part-timed in a local newspaper for a while and eventually got hired by the Konoha Times Magazine for her journalism work about a mayor’s corrupt business. It was dangerous, and she had taken on a number of threats for her work. Never did she looked bothered, or even showed hints of it. She was also a tough cookie herself… perhaps a little too tough. That look in her eyes… he knew that look and it scared him.

“Hey,” Sarada waved her hand in front of his face. “Since you’re spacing out, you better be thinking of a plan how to get me to his hotel room.”

Shikadai groaned. This woman was impossible. Was a tip really worth it? “Sarada, you’re being too troublesome. I got you in  since we’re uni buddies. But getting that hotel room number is just—“

“I’ll ghostwrite for you.”

His dark eyes went wide and Inojin instantly shut up. Was Shikadai hearing this right? “Come again?”

Sarada’s face seriously meant business. “I’ll ghostwrite for you.”

“Duuuude!” Inojin nearly dropped his camera.

“I can’t do that,” Shikadai shook his head and took a step back. Even if the offer was tempting, that was too good to be true. It would help him when things were too busy for him. “That’s—you care about getting your name out there!”

She shrugged. “I can type up a thousand words in the back of a cab on my way to work…” she paused and looked at him, an easy smile on her face. “Are you really going to pass this up?”

“But…” oh shit. It was too tempting. “Your writing style…”

“Is flexible.” Sarada grinned. “Just let me read three of your articles and I’m good. You can always check it before passing it in, you know?”

“Duuuuude!” Inojin was now shaking his shoulders. “Getting Sarada to offer something like that is—“ he threw his hands up in the air. “What are you waiting for? Aren’t you sleeping with one of the girls on Boruto’s band or something?”

Sarada’s eyebrows shot up and a knowing smile grew on her face. “Oh really? That sounds interesting.”

Shikadai screamed internally and glared daggers at Inojin. “You promised!”

“Whoops. It slipped?” Inojin snickered.

“Okay, so…” Sarada held up one finger. “I give you a tip,” she held up another, “I ghost write,” and held up another, “and we don’t speak about this girl in front of Chocho.”

Shikadai felt like a bucket of ice-cold water was dumped on his head. If Chocho were to find out— “DEAL.”

.

.

.

The sound of running water mixed with soft pop tunes echoed inside the bathroom. Boruto leaned his weight on his arm on the wall and bowed his head, letting the warm water from the shower pour down his head. Little streams made a path down his hair, nape, and back. Others made their way down the sides of his face and dropped down to his chin. This particular playlist usually put him in a good and sober mood, yet he couldn’t get her out of his head, feeling drunk on the thought of what her name might be.

She didn’t look American. Definitely Asian. Yet, she was a little taller. Maybe she was mixed, like him?

Boruto turned the knob off and leaned his forehead on the cool, tiled wall. Why was he getting so caught up in this? She was just a reporter. She looked bored in his presence. Big deal. She might have just been tired. Or judging from her stiff-looking outfit, she just felt out of place.

He took a towel and dried himself with it, starting with his face, hair, torso and then legs. Boruto looked around for the bathrobe, but before he could grab it, his doorbell rang.

Boruto lifted a brow. “Who the hell could that be?”

.

.

.

Inojin was lagging behind. His legs were burning and his lungs were crying for more air. He held on to his camera with one hand, and to the handrail on the other. “Tell me… why… did we have to take the… service stairs?”

“Because—“ Shikadai grimaced and took a deep breath to steady himself. “This is the only way the cameras won’t see us until we approach Boruto’s room.”

“Who happens to be on the top floor!” Inojin cried.

“Stop your whining!” Sarada chided him, she also struggled to steady her breath. “Just a few more.”

“Why are you so bent on making this happen?” Shikadai raised his brow. “This isn’t even your article, is it?”

“It wasn’t,” Sarada responded and adjusted her glasses. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to half-ass it. Neither does it give me the license to slack off. I’m not going to get that front page unless I work hard.”

“Or is just fucking lucky.” Inojin rolled his eyes.

Sarada pursed her lips and held her tongue. She had other reasons for wanting to make this interview work. There was a betting pool going around the office who would be stuck in their current work and never make it big. To her surprise, she was in the pool. It hurt and outraged her. Chocho calmed her and explained it was because she always stuck to the same boring topics, and never ventured to try writing for other articles or covering other events.

“She’ll stagnate,” one colleague remarked. “People need to be flexible. Can’t have someone turning down assignments just because they don’t like the job.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the job, it’s just that she didn’t feel like she was the right person, with the right knowledge, to fulfill the job. What did she know about food blogging or makeup? Traveling and what to pack or look out for? She was studying law with a passion for economics. Her father was a big shot on Wall Street, her mother a successful surgeon. They each had their own passions and expertise, never bothering each other or even pretending to know better than the other in their field. But… Sarada’s colleagues did have a point. She needed to expand and show them that she can get out of her comfort zone and still excel.

“I’m going to make this interview the most talked about, hashtagged, trending shit in the world,” she swore to herself.

.

.

.

Boruto opened the door and what he saw astounded him, eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

The reporter he was just thinking of, now in a wrinkled blazer, sweat on her dark brow, and breathing heavily stood before him. She was holding up her ID for him to see and a smirk slowly grew on his face.

Boruto said her name, letting every syllable roll off his tongue, “Sarada Uchiha.”

She immediately closed her mouth and fought even harder to steady her breathing. Her dark eyes were wide upon hearing his voice. She cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s me.”

Serendipity was wonderful. He didn’t believe in destiny, but he knew this had to be it. Boruto just wanted to laugh but held it in by biting his lower lip.

“Would you please let me interview you?”

“Is that what you’re here for?” He couldn’t believe it. The girl he was thinking about was standing right at his door, and she wanted to interview him?

Sarada nodded. “Yes. May I come in? This won’t take long.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” He stepped aside and she let herself in. He looked at her small figure standing inside his suite, still disbelieving the entire thing.

“Mr. Uzumaki, where would you—“

Boruto cringed. “You can call me Boruto.”

Sarada turned around to face him, eyes trailed down to his waist, before hastily looking away and pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “Umm. Right, then. You can call me Sarada.”

Boruto looked at himself and realized he was still in a towel. He was about to spazz and go on a full apology for being in a towel, but that pink dust on her cheeks… is she… blushing?

All his embarrassment washed away and his smug smile was back. “Alright, Sarada.” God. He loved her name. The way it sounded, the way it rolled off his tongue. “It’s nice to know your name.”

He relished watching her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. This was surely going to be an interview he wouldn’t forget.

“Shall we?”

Sarada nodded.

With one flick of his hand, he closed the door behind him.

.

.

.

To be continued.

--- 

A/N: This was a WIP sitting in my drive for months. I decided it would be perfect to use for the prompt -- Music. I’ll be continuing it another chapter to wrap up! Soon, when I get more free time to write. ^^; 

Thank you for reading my fic, darling. If you like my stories, please check out my profile and check out the link to my masterpost. I also have links to my FFnet, Ao3, Twitter and Ko-Fi.

 Write on, darling.

[thatoneloser-kid]

It seems like you do Runaways Prompts. If you do, here is one: Canon version of most of the Runaways in college except Molly and Molly is going on a first date. Nico and Chase are overprotective, Gert is trying to give her feminst sex advice, and Karolina is the grounded one trying to give her good advice. Of course Deanoru & Gertchase are a thing.

I’m not up to date with the comics. Honestly, I keep meaning to read them but I don’t have time

Karolina had been the first one up, she always was, perching herself at the table with a cup of coffee and toast smothered in ginger jam.

Nico came down next, planting herself on Karolina lap, hiding her face sleepily in Karolina’s neck.

“Hey, baby.” Karolina whispered against Nico's head.

Nico grumbled against the skin on her neck, and Karolina smiled, tickling Nico's lower back as she continued reading the news on her laptop.

Karolina was sure Nico fell asleep against her before Molly and Gert appeared, startling her.

“Gert, please stop.” Molly grumbled.

“You need to understand that it's not like how the media portrays it to be.” Gert said, following Molly as she grabbed a drink.

“It isn't going to go that far,” Molly sighed, pouring herself out a drink, turning to Karolina and wiggling the carton at her questioningly

Karolina shook her head, planting a kiss on Nico's head.

“You don't know how far it's going to go.”

“God, you're acting like your parents, will you stop.” Molly snapped.

“Oh, shit.” Nico whispered against Karolina’s neck.

“Excuse me for wanting to look after my little sister.” Gert snapped.

“It's just a date,” Molly huffed, just as Chase entered the kitchen.

“A what?” Chase and Nico asked simultaneously, both sounding equally as defensive.

“You guys are impossible.” Molly growled, grabbing her juice and leaving.

“It's hard enough for her to get a date, with her being who she us, and us being who we are.” Karolina sighed, patting Nico's thigh for her to get off before standing and sitting the girl on the chair. “She doesn't need you guys giving her a hard time.”

“What?” Chase and Nico snapped defensively, before staring at each other, probably due to them speaking at the same time. Again.

“I wasn't giving her a hard time.” Gert defended. “I just wanted her to know that sex and virginity is nothing like on the TV shows and in movies. Especially with two girls.”

“She isn't stupid,” Karolina sighed. “And she's not the kids who dressed up in that dumb costume and tried to fight crime on her own, either. She's nineteen, she's hasn't been on a date or even kissed anyone, she has been too busy saving the world. Layoff, she knows what she's doing.”

Karolina left then, finding Molly in her room.

“Have you come to have your say, too?”

“Yeah,” Karolina smiled as she sat on the foot of Molly’s bed. “Is she cute?”

That made Molly smile. “She is,” she said, digging into her pocket for her phone, showing Karolina picture of a girl around Molly’s age, her hair black with a streak of white in the front. She was grinning at the camera, her grin charming and eyes a soft, crystal blue.

“Way to go, Molly.” Karolina nudged her playfully. “How'd you meet?”

“We ran into each at Avengers Academy,”

“Oh, so she has powers?”

“Yeah, she can control plants, but she is also in the tech department, she is an intern with Stark.” Molly explained. “And she didn't know who I was, which is probably why she agreed to go out with me.”

“Molly,” Karolina tutted.

“No, it's true, people are afraid of us.”

Karolina nodded, because it was true, people were afraid of them.

“Do you like her?”

“I do,”

“Good. You know your sister is just showing you she cares, right? And Nico and Chase, they are just protective.” Karolina said. “They are morons for thinking you can't handle yourself, with you being the strongest in the group. But you're like a little sister, Molly, to all of us, not just Gert.”

“I know,” Molly sighed. “Gert is just overbearing, and Chase and Nico just added to that.”

“I think they know they were too much.” Karolina said. “Where are you guys going?”

“She wants to go see a movie,”

“Tonight?”

Molly hummed, ducking her head as she smiled nervously.

“How'd you feel about it?”

“Nervous, but in a good way, she gives me butterflies, Karolina, I've never had that before.”

“It is a really good feeling,” Karolina smiled. “When is she picking you up?”

“Seven, and I don't know what to wear.”

“Nothing too flashy, it's just a movie.” Karolina stood. “Let's have a look.”

--

Karolina helped Molly pick out jeans and a nice shirt before heading back downstairs, settling on the sofa beside Nico.

“She's cute, the girl, and seems sweet.” Karolina said.

“I'm sure she's sweet, but she better just watch herself.”

Karolina smiled softly at her girlfriend, dipping down to kiss her, before planting a kiss in her forehead. “You're so big and tough.”

“Fuck you,” Nico grumbled, the smile on her face directly contrasting the words leaving her lips. She traced her fingertips down Karolina’s jaw.

“Ew, homosexual activity.” Chase joked, sitting down across from the girls with Gert.

“At least my girl gets off every time, multiple times.” Karolina smiled sweetly at Chase.

“So does-” Chase glanced down at Gert, who quickly looked away. “What?”

“It was in the beginning of our relationship, you have followed my advice and you are so much better.”

Chase smiled smugly at Karolina, wrapping his arm around Gert.

“Good for you, buddy.”

Molly spent most of that day in her room, and bang on seven the door went.

Nico and Chase rushed to answer it, Chase with his arms crossed to flex.

“You must be Klara.” Nico said, and Chase held his hand out to the frightened young girl, giving it a squeeze.

“Yes, sir, ma'am.” the girl swallowed thickly and Karolina really felt for her. “I'm here for Molly.”

“We know,” Nico said, her jaw set as she glared at the her, and Chase pulled her in with their joined hands.

“How old are you?” Chase asked in a low voice.

“Twenty, sir.”

“Twenty? Molly is only nineteen, are you aware of that?” Nico scowled.

“She is twenty in three months, ma'am. I turned twenty yesterday.”

“Mm,” Chase hummed. “And what do you do?”

“I intern for Mr Stark, I'm at the academy.”

Neither Nico nor Chase had anything bad to say to that, and Karolina had to hide her smile behind her hand at the look on both of their faced.

“What is your intentions with Molly?” Nico asked, and Karolina decided that the girl had had enough interrogation for tonight.

“Uh, I-huh?”

“What. Are-” Nico started, but stopped when Karolina clasped a hand on hers and Chase’s shoulders.

“Go make sure Gert isn't being overbearing.”

“But-” Chase started.

“Now,” Karolina cut him off.

The girl relaxed, but only slightly when the duo disappeared. “Thank you.”

“You don't need to be afraid of them.”

“How can I not be? He's really big.” Klara breathed.

“Oh, he's not the one you should be afraid of.”

“The little one?” she frowned.

“Don't let her hear you call her that.” Karolina laughed. “but yes, she makes Chase look like a puppy dog.”

“Okay,” the girl nodded.

Karolina hummed, putting a hand on Klara's shoulder, smiling sweetly at her. “and Molly can bend steel with her bare hands, so if you do hurt her the witch, alien, tech genius and dinosaur will be the least of your worries.” she said, that sweet smiling never faltering, even when Molly appeared at the top of the stairs. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma'am.” she nodded quickly, and Karolina turned just as Molly reached the bottom of the steps.

“You look great, Molly.” Karolina smiled, hugging her friend before moving aside. “You kids have fun now.”

“What did you say to her?” Nico asked when Karolina closed the door.

“Nothing,” Karolina scoffed.

“She looked terrified,” Nico pointed out, her hands flattening against Karolina’s stomach as she pushed herself into her toes to kiss her.

“I just made sure she knew what he was dealing with.” Karolina whispered against Nico’s lips. “Plus, she called you the little one so I wanted to scare her for you.”

That made Nico grin widely. “That's my girl,” she whispered against Karolina's lips.

--

“Will you stop pacing?” Gert sighed.

“She's a punk, I know a punk when I see one and she's a punk.”

“She's a nice kid. Jemma teaches her, I called her earlier, she said she's good.”

"She has a white streak in her hair," Chase said. “A. Punk.”

Gert rolled her eyes at Chase, getting up from the bed and placing a hand to his chest to stop his pacing.

“She's a big girl, stronger than all of us, she will be okay.”

“It's not her, it's Klara.”

“She could take her, relax.”

“She's just a kid, she shouldn't be-”

“We had sex when we were seventeen.” Gert pointed out.

“That's different,”

“How?”

“Because Molly is little,” Chase argued, his voice breaking slightly.

“Oh, babe.” Gert sighed. “Karolina was right, she isn't that kid anymore.”

“She will always be little Molly.”

“You have to accept she will be doing more adult things.” Gert said.

“I absolutely do not,” Chase said immediately. “I will make sure she knows not to mess with her.”

--

Karolina was working out when her phone chimed that signature tone, telling her that someone had opened the gate to the house.

She grabbed her phone and headed up stairs, rolling her eyes when she spotted Nico, Gert and Chase all crowded around the door listening.

“Guys,” Karolina sighed.

“Sh,” Chase shushed.

Karolina rolled her eyes, listening for a few feet away.

“Give me a sec,” She heard Molly say, before the door opened and knocked each of their heads with a satisfying ‘clunk’, before it closed again.

Karolina couldn't help but crack up at her friends, all rubbing their foreheads. “All of you deserved that.” she said, heading for the living room.

Nico came in a few seconds later, eyeing Karolina.

“What?” Karolina asked, a little smirk, on her lips.

“You look good.” Nico commented, sitting down beside Karolina, throwing her legs over her thighs.

“I've just finished working out,”

“Exactly,” Nico smiled, placing a hand on Karolina’s cheek, pulling her face round to look at her. “We should go shower.”

“After we hear about Molly’s date.”

“Okay,” Nico whispered, leaning in to kiss Karolina but just before their lips could touch Molly came striding into the room, Gert and Chase following after.

“She didn't make you do anything you didn't want to?” Chase asked, but Molly ignored him.

“How was it?” Karolina asked.

“Really good,” Moly smiled. “We had sex at the back of the cinema.”

“What?” Nico and Chase snapped.

“I’m kidding. God, she was nervous enough to hold my hand never mind that.” Molly laughed. “And she knows who we are and still wants to go out with me again, even after what you two pulled.”

She glared at Nico and Chase, who didn't look the least bit sorry.

“When are you guys going out again?” Gert asked.

“Tuesday,” Molly answered, heading for the kitchen. “We're going to do drugs at the skatepark.”

“You are not,” Chase said, following after her.

“She's kidding, right?” Nico said.

“Of course she is,” karolina rolled her eyes. “Shower?”

“Definitely,” Nico let Karolina grab her hand and drag her upstairs.

“You're both gross,“ Gert called behind them.

[renegadewangs]

Ace Mindhunter - 2nd Interview

Characters: Simon Blackquill, Athena Cykes, Shi-Long Lang, and a rogues gallery of AA villains. Fandom: Ace Attorney Pairings: N/A. Warnings/rating: 16+, I would say. Talk of heavy themes such as death and abuse, plus cursing. Spoilers for every AA game up to Spirit of Justice, AAI2 included. Gratuitous amounts of headcanon for antagonists. Summary: Simon Blackquill is roped into a Behavioral Analysis project along with Athena Cykes. They must sit down with convicted murderers for interviews, in hopes of finding out just what drove them to their convoluted crimes.

2nd Interview Roger

Date: June 9th 2028 Time: 2:21 PM Location: Interview Room. Another day, another interview. Much as Simon had protested, Athena had stood her ground. She wished to be a part of this project and now that she'd drawn the answers out of Vasquez where Simon had failed, there was no way to argue. If there were ever an early interview which would have her lose her nerve, today's subject would be the one to do it. They'd gone from one TV producer to another, this one a familiar face to Athena. He'd been tossed into prison quite recently, on the 28th of April, four months after Simon had left it. This inmate had not killed out of self-defense. It had been premeditated, vindictive and as convoluted as things tended to get around L.A. these days. The perfect subject for a closer examination. They had been kept waiting for over twenty minutes already when at last a guard entered the room from the inmate's side. “The Ratings Rajah will see you now,” the guard said, acting as if he were announcing the entry of royalty. “This should be good,” Simon heard Athena mutter under her breath. Despite never having been one to regard the muck produced by Take-2 TV, the man who walked into the room was exactly the sort Simon would picture to be behind it all. Greasy hair, a smug grin, a raised eyebrow, sunglasses even within a dark room... He was as different from Vasquez as could be. While his beady eyes flicked to Athena for an instant, he seemed unbothered to be faced with one of the defense attorneys who'd caused his downfall. After sitting down, he leaned his chair back and put his feet up on the table. “Hang loose, babies! Let's make this quick, yeah? I'm a busy man,” Retinz said. “Are you really?” Athena asked in turn, glaring at him. “Is that your first question? Eesh. This is why I don't leave interviews to amateurs. Need me to take charge instead?” Retinz reached for the list of prepared questions, but Simon slid it out of his reach and instead gestured to the tape recorder. “Before any of that, do you mind if we record this?” “Mind if I do?” Retinz pulled a camcorder out of his sleeve and directed it at Simon's face, grinning. “Sorry,” said the guard, who'd remained by the door. “He's not allowed to have things like that, but he keeps hiding them somehow. We just can't figure out where he's keeping it all.” “Magician's secret, I suppose,” Athena grumbled. “Ever heard of enunciation?” Retinz asked her. “Better speak up, unless you want your audience to deal with subtitles.” “You'd best put that camera away before I remove your hand with it. There will be no more coin tricks for you when you're without fingers,” Simon said. Retinz promptly made his camcorder disappear again. “So what's this interview all about? Are you writing an article about how right I was? Have you come to apologize for slandering my good name?” “Ugh...” Athena looked almost nauseous. She pulled herself together again with impressive speed, though. “We're here on behalf of Interpol's Behavioral Analysis Unit. We'll be asking you about your family history, antecedent behavior and thought patterns surrounding the crime you have committed. Our goal is to compile several psychological profiles and, ultimately, use them to create a statistical analysis which will not include your name. What you discuss with us is subject to Interpol's confidentiality clause and cannot be used against you in your applications for parole.” “So this is... What, a science project for school?” Retinz asked. “Interpol,” Athena snapped at him. “Potato, tomato.” Athena puffed up her cheeks with indignation. Simon decided that he would allow her to take the lead again for now, as this experience would either toughen her hide or break her determination to go through with the project. “We'd like to talk about where you were born and raised.” Athena opened her folder to glimpse down at Retinz's profile. “It says here you lived in Wichita until you were sixteen years old?” Retinz made a very loud noise, similar to a game show's buzzer. “Kansas? No, no, what kinda mook do you take me for? Haven't you watched any of my shows? Born and raised in Brooklyn!” “There's no government record of you ever living in Brooklyn.” “Who cares about records? Didn't I just tell you? It's all explained in my shows.” “... So you're lying to your audience,” Athena concluded, pursing her lips together. Retinz waved a dismissive hand at her. “Talk about greenhorns... Don't you know nobody cares about the truth? They get enough of that from their own lives. People watch TV so the flashy, mindblowing fiction can distract them from all that.” “That sounds rather like a magician's misdirection,” Simon pointed out. “It's a producer's bread and butter. Besides, anyone can do a bit of trickery on TV. All it takes is clever editing, a green screen here and there, some hapless acting... It's all easy gimmicks.” Retinz glanced towards the far wall, his gaze hardening. “... A magician's deception takes hard work and passion. Only a filthy criminal could have that sort of talent.” “A criminal such as yourself?” Athena asked him. “What are you saaaying? You'd better wash your mouth out with soap right now, Missy!” Retinz proclaimed, raising both hands in a defensive manner. “Are you kidding me right now?! I was there when it all went down in the courtroom, remember? We exposed you as a killer!” “You sure that was me? Maybe I had a twin, like those cute magician girls.” Athena looked ready to boil over. As for Simon, he saw an opportunity and took it. “Hold on. Only a moment ago, you stated that only a filthy criminal could have the talent necessary to be a magician. Yet now you refer to cute magicians?” “Those wannabes weren't real magicians. No talent. Zilch,” Retinz stated. “That's why they were piggybacking off Little Miss Wright, see.” “Right, speaking of your grudge against Trucy Wright-” Athena began, only to be interrupted. “Grudge? What gruuudge?” “The one that landed you in here!” “Don't know what you're talking about. I've got better things to do than project resentment onto little girls. Makes for a great TV show, though! Exactly the sort of fiction people are searching for in their mundane lives! Maybe you're not a lost cause after all.” “Oh, uh...” Retinz pulled a phone out of his pocket and promptly began typing, muttering to himself. “Defense attorneys make for great script writers. They sure can spin some interesting delusions, LOL! Smiley face... Hashtag Wright Anything Losers... Aaand post!” Simon glanced at the guard, who took a single step towards Retinz. There was no point, though, as the phone had already vanished by the time the second step was taken. Simon wondered just how many followers Retinz still had on social media and made a note to find out. A live feed directly from prison and the support it might gain could add to their research. “That's slander...” Athena huffed. “Talk to me about slander when you're stuck in death row for a murder you didn't do, yeah?” Athena leaned back in her chair, lost as could be. Simon didn't blame her. This sort of denial would usually only be found on the witness stand. To have it continue even after conviction... Well, it made for an interesting sub-category within their study, to say the least. “So tell me, Mr. Greasy Producer,” Simon began, “why are you in here?” “I was framed by the competition, obviously. Take-3 TV hates my guts. Might've even teamed up with Trucy Wright- you know. The real killer.” Athena made a move as if she were about to tear Retinz's head off, so Simon held her back with one hand. Even as he did so, he watched their subject's reactions very closely. “So all those testimonies of what people have seen and heard in the courtroom during the Wright trial... Those were all fabricated?” “Oh, you bet. I'd tell you to ask the girl sitting right next to you, but she's good buddies with Trucy. She won't take my side, believe you me.” “I see that you've requested an appeal of your case several times.” “And I will keep asking until I get it.” “This is pointless,” Athena said quite abruptly, slamming the folder shut and rising to her feet. “We're not going to get anything out of him. Let's just go.” For all of four seconds, Simon assumed her claims to be a bluff. Some trick to get Retinz talking. That was thrown into question when she left the room and didn't return. Indeed, this interview had broken her determination, just as he'd wished. Why, then, did it leave him feeling defeated? “Excuse me. We will continue this interview tomorrow.” Simon got up from his chair as well, stopping the recording process. Retreat was indeed the best strategy for now. Retinz grinned up at him, looking every bit the victor. “Hey, bring some good coffee next time, will you? None of that machine sludge they try to poison me with in here. I need a hit of a brand name, like Bunny's Caffé or Starbills.” “... Duly noted.” ------- Date: June 9th 2028 Time: 2:31 PM Location: Detention Center. Athena was storming through the detention center and towards the prison's exit so fast, Simon would have trouble keeping up if he were a lesser man. He caught up to her just before she reached the door and while he used very little force, he grabbed her arm all the same. “Hold it.” “I'm not going back in there,” Athena insisted, whirling round to face him. “Let's just tell Lang it's a waste of time. Because it is. How are we supposed to ask him about his childhood if he's just going to lie about it? And how will we find out anything about his thoughts during the murder if he keeps insisting he didn't do it?” “The denial is, in itself, something worth investigating. Where does it stem from? How does it sustain itself within his mind? Are you not curious?” “I... Maybe. Or maybe he's just acting like that to piss us off. A skeevy guy like him would know all about acting, right?” Athena glanced down towards the ground, then back up at Simon, as if hoping for his confirmation. “The only way to be certain is to continue the interview. I've told him that we will return tomorrow and we had best plot out a strategy before then.” Athena grinned and pumped a fist. “Oooh, so you're on board with me helping you out after all?” “... I believe that the daughter of Metis Cykes would not be defeated by a mere hustler of a magician. You must stand tall and if that means you would walk into a room with a killer willingly, I will stand by your side.” “Aww, that's sweet. Thanks, Simon.” Athena nudged his upper arm. “The two of us together, we'll crack this guy. Or just his ribs. Either one.” They retreated into a corner of the detention center's waiting area, where several couches and coffee tables were gathered. Simon made sure to look so very gloomy and ill-tempered, no one would come within twenty feet of them while they discussed more sensitive matters. “So how do we get him to say something that isn't nonsense?” Athena asked. “Perhaps we can begin by asking him about the victim. He knew that unfortunate wannabe magician long before the murder. Perhaps something worthwhile will spill out.” “Oh, I'm sure he'll offer his sincere condolences and make sure we've recorded it. And then he'll try to use it as evidence if he ever gets an appeal,” Athena huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “We all know he did it! Who does he think he's fooling?” Simon mulled it over for a moment. Seven years in prison had left his views on psychology rusty, and he believed it best that Lang never find out about that, or else he'd risk losing his chance to meet with the Phantom. For now, he had to focus and get those old gears grinding again. “I don't believe his words to be hot air. Not entirely, anyway. Indeed, everyone knows he committed the crime, so there is only one person left to fool.” “Who would that be?” “Himself, of course. He shows signs of emotional detachment, not only towards the crime but towards his past. Furthermore, while his mind associates accomplished magicians with criminals, recall his reactions when accused of being either one.” “... He deflected.” “Precisely. Perhaps we should not be speaking to Roger Retinz, the Ratings Rajah. Instead, we ought to find a way to converse with Mr. Reus.” ------- Date: June 10th 2028 Time: 2:18 PM Location: Interview Room. Once again, they'd been kept waiting for almost twenty minutes when at last Retinz walked in with a casual stride. Once again, he tilted his chair back and allowed his feet to rest on the table. His eyes moved towards a cup on the table. “... Bunny's Caffé?” “Indeed. You failed to specify what sort of coffee you wanted. I've decided that you are a double espresso man and if you don't like it, you will not be a coffee man at all,” Simon said, smirking. “Double espresso is exactly on the nose. Thanks, man. At least someone here has good manners.” Retinz made sure to shoot a filthy look towards Athena, then he took the espresso and drained it without so much as a second thought. Simon wondered vaguely whether he had built up an immunity to caffeine over the years or whether he'd just given himself a sleepless night. “We'd like to try, once again, to go over this list of questions with you. It is imperative that we gain better insight into your history and motives.” “Why? Your little pet project is about killers, right? You've got the wrong person. I'd suggest you pay Trucy Wright a visit instead.” While Athena's fingers tensed, she said nothing. Simon drew a steadying breath of his own before continuing. “First of all, it's imperative that we establish something else. That is, are you the magician known as Mr. Reus?” “Whaaat?” Retinz went from faux surprise to a dismissive attitude so fast, it could've given him vertigo. “Don't you know anything? Manov Mistree was Mr. Reus. He's dead now.” “Then, I will rephrase the question. Were you, at any given point in time, Mr. Reus?” Retinz clammed up immediately. There was no acting, no snide comebacks, nothing. What did happen was that the man reached for his right arm, where a scar was meant to be. Ready to deal the final blow, Simon pulled a handful of change from his pocket and placed it in front of Retinz. “What is...?” the man asked. He moved into some sort of stiff disdain. “You think I'm so down on my luck that I need your charity? Don't be ridiculous.” “A few coin tricks, if you please. As I was unable to play the part of audience during the Wright trial, I've heard no more than tales.” “If you want to see your coins disappear, just give them to a hobo. Or Little Miss Trucy.” “Quite right, anyone can make coins disappear. Only the Great Mr. Reus possesses the skill to perform the finest coin tricks in the world. Tricks of legend.” For a few seconds, Retinz seemed almost hesitant. Then something changed at the drop of a hat- or a facade. His gaze hardened and just like that, he was a whole other person. He took several coins in hand, clenched his fist, then they were gone. He stretched out all his fingers to show off his empty palm. Next, he held up his other hand, where the coins were spread out quite neatly between his fingers. “... Now, check behind your right ear.” Simon frowned, did as he was told and found another coin there, kept in place by his untidy hair. “How's that for a magic trick? I could have a coin appear anywhere on your body if I wanted to, but there's certain lines I don't dare cross. You don't seem the type who would laugh about it.” “Mr. Reus, I presume?” “The one and only. We accept no more imitations or substitutes.” Athena's jaw must've dropped at some point, for Simon looked her way just in time to see that she was closing her mouth again. “Oh... Well. All right, then.” “I would like to ask, once more, for your truthful participation. Are you prepared to answer our questions?” Reus clenched his hand together and tilted it, so that he could flick a coin into the air with his thumb. He caught it quite deftly. “Ask away.” “You were born and raised in Wichita, where you lived until you were sixteen years old, is that correct or isn't it?” “Bingo.” “Tell us about your parents.” “They were poor. Dirt poor. We lived in a run-down little shack. Pops was unemployed and drunk, mom was packing groceries at the deli.” “Did you have any siblings?” “Nope, it was just me. Probably for the best, because three was already a crowd in that hovel of a house.” “You didn't get along with your parents?” “Nope.” While Athena was attempting to stay out of the conversation, her pen was scritching against the paper. Simon didn't want to ask his next question in front of her, but knew that he had no choice. Regardless, he would be a hypocrite for assuming that she wouldn't be strong enough to handle this sort of thing. He'd already made his decision when he stopped Athena from leaving the detention center only a day ago. A deep breath, then he posed the query. “Did they abuse you?” “Sounds like this interview's turning into a dumpsterfire. Don't get too close, or you might get burned,” Reus proclaimed. He stopped flipping his coin and held it in the palm of his fist. When next he opened his hand, there were several inches of flames. The glow of the miniature fire was so bright that the lenses of Reus's sunglasses became obscured. The guard, who had once again been standing ready by the door, appeared both unnerved and unwilling to act. So much for the strong arm of the law. “Whoah, whoah! Take it easy, Jafar!” Athena called at him. It seemed as if Reus needed just a bit more incentive to speak. One more gimmick to open up to them. Simon reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a deck of cards. It was placed before the magician, drawing his attention without further ado. “Go on. Take them,” Simon urged. “I assure you, it's a complete deck.” A pause, then the flame in Reus's palm disappeared. He began to shuffle the cards in the most expert manner Simon had ever seen, even going so far as to shoot the deck from one hand into the other and back again. The whole ordeal turned into something of a blur. Finally, Reus held the deck face-down looked him square in the eye. “Name a card off the top of your head.” “... The Ace of Spades,” Simon said. Reus lifted the top card off the deck and placed it face-up on the table. It was the Ace of Spades. “Now you, Missy,” he told Athena. “Uuuhh... The Five of Hearts?” Reus lifted the next card off the deck and that one, too, was exactly as foretold. Athena smacked a hand down on the table. “Wait, no! I changed my mind! I want the Four of Diamonds!” Reus took the Five of Hearts with his free hand, spun it around on his fingertip, then placed it back down. It was now no longer the Five of Hearts, it was the Four of Diamonds. “It is done.” “Maaaaan... That's impossible.” Athena said, and Simon didn't need her special ability to hear the envy in her voice. Reus slid the two cards back into the deck, then began to shuffle again. He looked quite content as he did so, perhaps even comfortable. He was in his element, which was exactly as Simon had planned it. “My Pops,” Reus began, placing down the King of Clubs for them as if it were a tarot card, “was King of the castle. He was the one who would lay down the law and he would punish accordingly. That law depended on his mood. On a bad day, he'd knock the stuffing outta me just for breathing too loudly.” Simon was forced to consider the possibility that this was yet another 'fiction' tailored to a certain audience. Without a doubt, this sort of story held fitting notes to those attempting to compose the melody of a psychological profile. Still, the look on Reus's face gave the whole thing credibility. It was grim and real. “What did your mother say about that?” “Mom... was his devoted Queen.” Reus laid the Queen of Hearts out next to the King, then placed a Joker neatly below the two of them. “She had no problems with the hierarchy because the law didn't apply to her. She kept saying Pops had it rough because he was having such a hard time finding a job, and if he took it out on me it was my own fault. Somehow, everything was always my fault. Somehow, I was the failure.” “That sounds like a tense atmosphere for a child.” “No kidding. Pops said he didn't want me around, so I didn't stick around. I was outside the house more often than inside, hiding and practicing magic tricks.” Reus slipped the Joker back into the deck of cards first, shuffled, then snatched up remaining two to complete the collection again. With that, he went right back to absentminded shuffling. “What exactly about magic was it that drew your attention?” Athena asked, now a bit more sympathetic and willing to tend to business than before. “A magician could do anything and overcome anything. No limits. Being sawed in half was no problem, being tied up with chains and stuck in a dunk tank was no problem, being trapped in a cage and then run through with swords was no problem... They could make a yacht disappear, they could teleport across the stage, they could read your mind... When I was a kid, I thought magicians were the most powerful beings in the world.” Simon tapped his pen against the paper, thinking it over. “And they could never be hurt, correct?” The cards Reus had been holding sprang into the air and scattered all over. He recoiled, once again reaching for his scarred arm as if he'd just been burned in that very specific spot. “W-Well... Only the very best, obviously.” “So when you were sixteen, you left your home and attempted to make a name for yourself as Mr. Reus.” “Right. Naive youngster that I was, I had my sights set on the Gramarye Troupe.” Reus returned to flipping a coin as he spoke, each time catching it with such a nimble motion of the fingers that it didn't land so much as transition straight into its next jump. “By the time I was twenty, they'd already welcomed me into their midst. Bunch of miserable traitors that they were...! I gave several years of my life to them- gave them everything I had to give and they dropped me like I was nothing! My burning passion was nothing but a sad little smoulder in their eyes!” “... I've heard tales that Magnifi cast you out after a single mishap and none of the other Gramaryes stuck up for you.” “That's saying it lightly. Magnifi humiliated me and soured the name of the Great Mr. Reus for years to come. Anyone who believes Troupe Gramarye was a family is dead wrong. Every single one of the old man's students was fighting for their own reputation and I didn't see it until that incident opened my eyes. That's when I learned you can't trust anyone in this world- least of all magicians.” “And yet... You did not exact any sort of revenge until many years later. Not until Trucy Wright announced her plans of a Gramarye revival. What prompted you to act at that time, when you had been living a perfectly content life away from magic for almost thirteen years already?” “Magnifi and his accomplices got their due without my interference. A year after I was dismissed, Thalassa pulled a vanishing act of her own- some say she got hurt while practicing a magic act, just as I did, so Magnifi made his failure of a daughter disappear. A few years later, the old man croaked, Zak took the fall for his murder and Valant was effectively castrated. I thought the Gramarye name was dead and buried, so I made peace with it. That is, until she appeared.” “Trucy Wright?” Simon frowned and sat back in his chair. “Even if she wanted to revive the Gramarye name, she had nothing to do with your disgrace. She was only a young lass at the time.” Reus slammed his hand down on the table quite suddenly and while the fire in his hand had long gone out, it was still in his eyes. “She has the Gramarye blood and she flaunted the name! Trucy in Gramarye Land, indeed! What a joke! She even wanted to drag Mr. Reus into that disaster of a publicity stunt! Over my dead body!” “At that point, you were no longer Mr. Reus,” Athena said with a bit of a scoff. “It was Manov Mistree's decision to make, and so... It was over his dead body. You made sure of that.” “Don't you sit there and judge me, missy! A pipsqueak like you could never understand this all-consuming fire; this need for revenge. Trucy Wright is doomed to be every bit the criminal her parents and grandpappy were. If she isn't already, she will be some day, you mark my words!” While Athena might've huffed at Reus's attitude even further, something held her back. It was the emotion, perhaps, to the man's words. Widget was alternating between blue and red around her neck. “Do you believe,” Simon began, “that the sins of the parents carry into their children? That blood ties limit a person's potential by tying them down?” “Absolutely.” “Then, what of your own parents? Do you believe they set you on a path you could no longer stray from?” “... Ayep. I reckon they did.” “Have they come to see you after you gained a name for yourself? The Ratings Rajah was a big deal, after all.” “Oh, they hunted me down, all right.” A mean smirk appeared on Reus's face, implying he was delighted by the memory rather than horrified. “They came right up to my penthouse, packed bags by their side, asking for money and a place to stay.” “What did you say to them?” Reus took the empty espresso cup and held it between both hands, then pressed his palms together. While Simon had definitely seen the cup crumple under all that pressure, the remains had vanished when Reus pulled his hands apart again. So long as there was magic in this world, who would have need for a trash can? “Nothing. I laughed and slammed the door shut in their faces. What goes around, comes around, right?” he stated with no end to his amusement. With that, Simon considered the interview an official success; they'd learned quite a bit about what had driven Roger Retinz to premeditated murder. All it had cost him was a handful of change and a deck of cards. Applying that knowledge in practice was a whole other matter, but at the very least, they could present results to Lang. Athena must not have been quite satisfied yet, for she looked through the papers and chose another angle of attack. “If you don't mind, I'd like to go back to the topic of Manov Mistree for a bit,” she stated. “As I understand it, he was a big fan of the original Mr. Reus and you happened to learn of that by chance. Instead of ignoring that bit of your past, you revealed yourself to him and made him your apprentice. Why was that?” “Why indeed?” Reus asked, and while it might've been taken as sarcastic, the furrowing of his brow suggested that he was wondering in earnest. He went back to flipping his coin again. “... Maybe I was feeling vindictive. Maybe I wanted Mr. Reus to have one last bit of glory and I didn't care who I had to corrupt in order to get it.” “You believe that you corrupted Mr. Mistree?” “Of course. Such a bright-eyed, optimistic, gullible guy... Not the brightest bulb in the shop, but he was determined to learn. He could've been anything else, really, but he wanted to be a magician so badly. If he hadn't dreamed those foolish dreams, he wouldn't have met such a sticky end.” “And only a criminal could have a knack for deceiving people the way a magician does, hm?” Athena mused aloud. “So what was your relationship with Mr. Mistree like? Did you encourage him to follow his dreams or did you warn him about what it took to be the real deal?” “Oh, I did everything Magnifi refused to do for me. I gave him pats on the back and complimented his progress; the whole good mentor shebang. He ate it up. Never seen anyone more thirsty for approval and boy did he get it.” Simon's gaze flickered towards Athena, then back to Reus. “Did you take advantage of Mistree's adoration?” “You're gonna have to be more specific, pal.” “Did you engage in acts of a sexual nature with him?” “A guy like me, who's constantly surrounded by bikini babes in the studio? You've got some guts, asking me a question like that.” “Yet, you fail to answer.” Reus flicked several coins through the fingers of his left hand. Athena squeaked out of nowhere and hopped up from her chair. The Five of Hearts was pulled out of her boot and impressive as the trick had been, neither herself nor Simon was amused. They both made that clear through their furious expressions, which were all but ignored. “... I did at first,” Reus ultimately admitted, now flipping a coin along the back of his hand from finger to finger. When he caught sight of the look on Athena's face, he tutted. “Don't you worry, I didn't do anything he wasn't into. He was the one taking charge, not me. Took him out to dinner and everything, too. Burger Barn.” “Seriously? All that money, and you take the guy you're sleeping with to Burger Barn?” Athena's disgust reached a whole new low. As for Simon, he was of the opinion that Retinz's cheap nature was the least of his crimes. “Yeah, that really should've tipped him off, shouldn't it? Good old Manny, he was so blinded by the person he thought I was, he couldn't see the trash inside. Lots of expectation for me to live up to. How could I crush his hopes? But after a while, he became more Reus than Manov. That's when I stopped getting my kicks.” Simon's eyes narrowed into a glare. “That turn of events was your own doing. By actively encouraging Mistree's dreams and teaching him your ways, you shaped him into Mr. Reus. Then, when he was close to becoming just like you; a supposed criminal... You could justify butchering him with a clear conscience. He ceased to be a person and instead became a means to an end.” “Seems like it. I created a monster, by which I mean myself, and then I fed that monster to the flames of my revenge in hopes the fire would consume the last shreds of Magnifi's legacy. Fucking tragic.” “If you agree that the mindset is tragic, do you regret what you've done?” Reus stood quite suddenly and threw a card across the room as if it were a ninja star. The corner of it pierced the wall and so, the card remained there. Athena looked impressed. Simon thought the showmanship was quite unnecessary, but then, perhaps it was one of the few outlets Reus still had left. The disgraced magician placed both hands on the table and leaned forward, speaking his next words in a vicious whisper. “I'd kill Manov a hundred times over if it meant I had a chance to be rid of my thirst for revenge. I would need to kill him a hundred times over, because that's what it means to be a fuck-up. … How's that for a psychological profile, Dr. Freud?” To Be Continued

[magicdrabbles]

Isekai Lucio AU

This was done for @junkpilestuff and their awesome idea of Lucio waking up in our modern era world and I HAD. TO. JUMP. ON. THAT. Here’s the finished product. Warning: This is pretty long and it’s dialogue heavy but whatchya gonna do? Read under the cut~

A flash of red, burning pain throughout my body...my vision go black...then...

Darkness...swirling around in darkness...but I feel so...light. I’m...fading…my senses are mixed and...and...

…..

And what’s that horrible smell?!

Lucio’s eyes flash open and he jerks up with a heavy gasp, sweating. He squints away from the blinding light, settling himself down from whatever just happened.

It was probably just a weird dream...but why do I smell...whatever that is? Ugh! Dirt!

He opens his eyes, adjusting to the bright light and recoils his hand from the ground shaking away any residue that was on it. He scowls at the filth around him before finally getting up and wiping the dirt off his now grimy white suit. He looks up and his mouth drops. He’s standing in an alleyway next to a large trash can covered in graffiti, skyscrapers towering above, taller than his beloved palace. The unfamiliar sound of sirens and cars fills his ears and he quickly runs out the street. Everywhere, people everywhere.

Absolutely...FILTHY people! And why are they dressed so...bad?

The New Yorkers stare at him and his attire. It’s not completely unusual for the Big Apple to see weirdos like this. But his look is so...outlandish that many thought he might just actually dress like that. Lucio was twirling, back and forth, trying to take in his surroundings. The last thing he remembers before waking up here...Nadia. She killed me...that absolute BITCH! Lucio stomps down his heeled foot like a child. He growls, anger pulsing out of him like heat before he is almost bumped into the street by a burly man in a faded suit.

“Hey! Watch where you’re goin’ bub!” the man yells back at Lucio.

“YOU sir, were the one who hit me! How dare you! Do you know who I am?!”

“Not a clue,” the man laughs, “what a weirdo…” he chuckles to himself, disappearing into the crowd. Lucio huffs, and twirls to face whatever is before him. He scans the area, eyes falling on...what are those?

Large windows displaying colors and people lined up and down the buildings showing beautiful people just...staring and smiling, sometimes holding perfume or fine jewelry. Lucio stopped when he saw him. On the...I think I heard someone say...jumbotron, Lucio saw one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen, almost as beautiful as him. Hmph, I could beat that. If Nadia doesn’t want me in Vesuvia then I can be the best here. Everyone can love me, he thought immediately.

With his large golden claw, he grabs a passerby on the shoulder and turns them toward him.

“You! Who is that up there?” He points his fleshed hand up at the screens. A stunned young man, scrawny and red-eyed looks at the advertisement for Calvin Klein underwear.

“Uhhh I don’t know man...just some model dude?” He takes a sip of his soda he had been holding, not breaking his somewhat impressive eye contact with Lucio.

“A model? How do I do that?”

“Uhhhhh lots of dudes just get famous on Instagram really or like...make a youtube channel”

“A wha-youtube? Instagram? Quit being so obscure! And just tell me damn it!” Lucio grabs the guys shirt with both hands and shakes him a bit. “Okay okay! Jeez, my dude, I have a buddy who does photos for a living I can introduce you...but I don’t know if he’ll wanna take your picture since you’re such a...douche”

Lucio’s eyes widen, “A WHAT?”.

“Nevermind, just follow me” and the young pothead leads Lucio to his friend’s apartment.

“By the way, that’s a siiiiick arm, my man. You cosplayin’ someone or…”

“This is my arm and yes it is quite...sick? I’m assuming that’s good in this world” Lucio said matter of factly.

“Hehe...yeahhh...super sick”

“What is your name? It’s not that I care but I have no idea what to call you.”

“Ah it’s Jesse my liege,” he tips an imaginary hat at Lucio and do a little bow “and yours?”

“Count Lucio of Vesuvia. Grand ruler, military leader, excellent lover…” He smirks down at Jesse, running his claw through his blonde locks.

“Heh, schweet love the confidence, my man”

They continue down a few more blocks before they arrive at the apartment of Jesse’s friend. Jesse knocks a little tune on his friend's door before it cracks open just a smidge. His friend’s eye peers through the crack.

“What’s the password compadre?” Jesse’s friend asks ominously from behind the door.

“Lmao, the password is SUCK MY WEENUS! AAAAAYYYYY”

“AYYYYYY” they yell in unison. The door slams closed. Locks on the other side jangle as they fall off the door and unlock. The friend opens the door with large arms wide open.

“My dude, Dan, let me introduce THE Count Lucio”. Dan, the man behind the door, stares at Lucio and his grandeur.

“Yo, you’re mega hot not gonna lie” Dan praises. Lucio blushes for a split second before his signature smirk returns to his face.

“Ha! Of course, I am,” Lucio parades past Dan into his too small apartment. He lands, light as a feather onto the tattered and stained leather couch, “And that’s why I’m here dear Dan. YOU are going to have the privilege of photographing ME!” He extends his body seductively along the couch, leg raised straight up high and an over exaggerated pout on his lips. Dan raises a quizzical eyebrow and looks over at Jesse. Jesse, taking a drag of his vape (Where did he pull that from, Dan thought) just shrugs his shoulders and blows the vapor into his friend’s face.

“Dan, the man...you are the man and you take awesome photos. This dude wants to be a model and I thought ‘Well I’m bored and I bet Dan is up to nothing so why not?’ so now we’re here and I’m high and I’m vaping and you’re staring at me and that flamboyant weirdo is excited to model so, like, why not?”

There’s silence...Dan just slowly looking back and forth at his friend and then at Lucio. Lucio blows him a kiss and winks. With a sigh, Dan resigns to the requests.

“Fine. But only because I’m bored!” Lucio jumps up and claps his hands together.

“Excellent decision Dan! Now, what should I do? I should pose like some of my portraits maybe? Do you have a skull from an enemy I can hold? Maybe some fine jewels I can lavish myself in?”

“Uh no...but like, you can just take off your shirt. Ladies LOVE a shirtless dude.” He extends his fingers into small, pudgy finger guns and waves them at Lucio.

Lucio obeys immediately. It’s not every day people ask him to strip. He enjoys the attention. This is going to be FANTASTIC.

A while later, Dan and Jesse had set up the lights, the camera, and simple white background for Lucio to model in front of. Lucio had stripped down to just his pants, although Dan and Jesse had to stop him from going past that. After explaining he did NOT need a skull to stand on, and that most models just pout and pose fairly naturally, Lucio began to get into the groove of it all, displaying his muscles the best he could and giving the camera winks every now and then. Dan uploaded the photos to his Instagram after doing a bit of filtering and face tuning, and they waited for the responses to start flooding into the comments section. Lucio paced back and forth, his heeled boots click-clacking on the hardwood floor.

“What are we waiting for? Surely I should be on that big screen by now!”

“Ahh, that’s not how that works my dude…” Jesse explained flatly, not taking his eyes off the TV screen. Just as Lucio’s face turns red with impatience at these...fools... a high pitched “Ding!” resonates from Dan’s little device. And then another...and another and another...soon Dan is launching himself across the couch to silence his phone.

“Yooo what the fuck...you’re blowing up Lucio!” His eyes widen at the screen, his greasy finger scrolling through all the comments and likes on his photos. “Oh my god...GIGI HADID SAID SHE THINKS YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!” Lucio waves his hand absently “Yes, yes I know I am. I don’t care who this Gugu is, am I FAMOUS now?”

Dan’s jaw drops. In his direct messages are requests for Lucio to model for big brands. Other models are asking who he is, designers are wondering how Dan discovered him.

“My dude, you’re gonna be famous” Lucio delivers a flashy smile to Jesse and Dan. Jesse goes in for a fist bump but Lucio slaps it away with his claw.

~

Months later, and Lucio is signed with some of the biggest modeling agencies in the world. He’s walking for Valentino, Gucci (his personal favorite), Prada, you name it, he’s modeled it. The extravagance he receives from his work is unmatched to that of Vesuvian riches; it’s BETTER. Fine clothes, drunken nights with the world’s most beautiful people, all the men and women he could dream of being with, everything! He has it all. He was even on the jumbotron. He hid his face from others, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He had made it. Lucio’s face and body were gracing every major advertisement medium- commercials, magazines, runways, even the sides of buses. One day, however, his lust for himself gets the best of him.

While walking down the busy city streets, paparazzi began flanking him.

“Lucio look over here!”

“No Lucio look here, look over here darling!” Lucio complied, striking pose after pose, strutting down the street. With a sexy smile and wink, he began to walk backward, arms up wide in pride. “Yes, New York! This is your COUNT your GOD! I AM THE BEST MODEL IN THE WORL-” 

A bus slams into him. 

A collective gasp from all the photographers is followed by silence, then by the flashing of lights and cameras. The bus, displaying Lucio’s own image, is the last thing the Count remembers seeing before blacking out.

Head pain...swimming in agony and...riches….darkness is creeping up again

Do I smell bath salts?

Lucio startles awake. He’s lying on a soft, luxurious bed, still dressed in his silk Gucci attire. A scream startles him and he looks to his side seeing a palace servant screech and run out of the room. Moments later, Nadia enters, her face at first shocked, then replaced with a scowl.

“You’re supposed to be dead Lucio, we were fixing you for a funeral. That was the least- actually-the most I could do for you” She crosses her arms, not at all pleased in the slightest. “And what are you wearing?” she asks coldly.

“It’s Gucci, bitch”.

[no-birdstofly]

"Wait, my hero’s secret identity is… you? To be honest, I’d always kind of hoped…" for either jonjontommy or ronanjon, author's choice.

When Jon calls (literally calls, like on the phone) Lovett to come across the street and kill a spider for him, the last thing he expects is to get bitten by it. The rest of it, Leo sniffing around inquisitively, Jon standing on a chair as far away as possible and cowering, that he all saw coming, but what the hell, he’s never been bitten by a spider in his life. He’d planned to capture it and take it outside, do the right thing or whatever, but fuck that. He squashes it ruthlessly and accepts Jon’s exaltation of his bravery, even letting Jon clean and bandage his war wound.

“This doesn’t look good,” Jon says, snapping a photo before he plasters no fewer than three band-aids over the bite.

He must forward it to Tommy, because Lovett gets a text later that night that reads, If that starts to swell you need to go to the doctor. Don’t want this to be like when you almost lost a leg all over again.

Ha ha, Lovett sends back, trusting the spacing to convey his sarcasm.

You could’ve lived without the leg, but I don’t see you doing well without your right hand. Tommy sends it fast enough that Lovett knows he’s been planning on making that joke the entire time.

But Tommy, he replies, that’s what YOUR hand is for. He tacks on a winky face, even though he hates emojis on principle. It’s worth it for how red he can imagine Tommy’s face turns while reading the message.

The bite doesn’t get bigger at all. Rather, it heals remarkably fast, and it’s just a pinprick the next day.

“Huh,” Jon says, turning Lovett’s hand this way and that like it holds the world’s most boring magic eye picture instead of a tiny, insignificant mark. “I thought it was way worse yesterday.”

Lovett shrugs. “Who can blame you, you were busy being terrified of a tiny–”

“It was not tiny,” Jon says hotly.

“What wasn’t tiny?” Tommy asks, strolling into the office with Lucca.

“The spider I gallantly killed for Jon.”

“That’s not surprising,” Tommy says. “We used to get these giant centipedes in Chicago. One time one was on top of the shower drain, and Jon didn’t realize and reached down–”

“Okay!” Jon says brightly, despite the fact that Lovett saw his entire body shudder two seconds ago. “I’m getting coffee. Both of you shut the fuck up by the time I’m back.”

He leaves before either of them can place their own orders, because they’re both busy laughing at his expense.

Tommy’s concerned over how fast the bite has healed, and he presses Lovett to tell him if anything “weird” happens.

“Weird?”

“Just–seriously, anything,” Tommy says, squeezing Lovett’s shoulder and looking ridiculously imploring.

That night, when Lovett idly tosses a tennis ball for Pundit and it sails some five houses away followed by the sound of glass shattering, he calls Tommy.

“I was afraid this would happen,” Tommy says.

“What the fuck? What if they know I did it? Should I go over and tell them? How would I explain it, though? ‘Hi, sorry, apparently I can actually throw all of the sudden and broke your window.’ Thank god I never did that breed test kit so Pundit’s not in the system. Do cops test for dog DNA?”

“Why would you do a test for what breed she is? You got her from a breeder.”

“Yeah, but who knows! I don’t want to be depriving her of, like, her innate herding instincts.”

Tommy’s quiet for a long moment, and Lovett knows he’s trying to avoid saying something about how lazy his dog is. He appreciates it, even if it makes him want to defend her anyway. He thinks back over what Tommy said.

“Wait, why were you afraid of this happening? What do you know?” he demands.

Tommy sighs. “Can you do me a favor? Try to pick up something really heavy.”

Lovett grumbles but goes into his bedroom and tries to lift his bed dutifully. It comes right off the floor, so fast it knocks into the wall, leaving a dent and nearly breaking one of the windows. He really needs to not be around glass right now. He gives Tommy the news, and Tommy says he’s on his way.  

Lovett’s in the middle of rearranging his living room when Tommy arrives. “This is great! I’ve been wanting to move the couch forever but I could never do it alone before.”

“Why didn’t you ask me or Jon to help you?”

“Pride,” Lovett says simply, and Tommy accepts that for the answer it is. Lovett flops onto his much better positioned couch and says, “Start talking.”

Tommy tells him all about the enhanced individuals–“Just say ‘superheroes,’ Tommy, come on.”–he dealt with when he still worked for the NSC. Apparently they’re very real, and the government is tracking quite a few of them, and a few villains, too.

“Nothing, like, crazy,” he adds. “No one’s Wonder Woman or really powerful, in my experience, but yeah, they’re out there.”

“If you tell me that there’s a kid in Queens who also got bit by a spider…” Lovett warns.

“As far as I know, there’s no Spider-man, either. You probably only have one power, anyway,” Tommy says, like it’s no big deal. “Just heightened strength.”

Lovett can’t help the smug grin that spreads across his face. “Hey. Hey, Tommy. Wanna arm wrestle real quick?”

“No, Lovett, I do not,” Tommy says with a scowl.

“Seriously, though, you think that’s it?”

“Have you tried anything else?”

They go outside so Lovett can see if he’s suddenly able to leap tall buildings in a single bound or whatever. He can’t. He makes it a few inches off the ground and lands on one of Pundit’s toys, twisting his ankle in the process and nearly face planting in the grass.

“See?” Tommy chokes out through his laughter.

Lovett has to wrap his ankle the next couple days, so advanced healing is out, too. He is a little more agile, though, his reflexes a little quicker. It’s not crazy, comic book style, but it’s something. When Jon knocks over his water while gesturing wildly during recording, Lovett’s able to catch it before any spills. Jon looks surprised, but grateful.

He has more stamina, too, he realizes after his ankle is better. He accidentally doubles his morning run when he doesn’t get tired after the first mile, meaning he has to carry Pundit for three-quarters of it. It also means his legs feel like they’re going to fall off for the next three days.

Tommy talks to his contacts in Washington and gets Lovett all registered, and Lovett tries really hard to not freak himself out thinking about the Civil War run of Marvel.

“Also, just so you know, they tend to be pretty lax about vigilantism, as long as you don’t take it too far,” Tommy tells him. “The guy who turned in your forms says he has a costume hookup if you’re interested.”

“A costume? Why would I–I don’t want to be a superhero. I’m not planning on, like, using this for good.”

“Oh, my mistake,” Tommy says dryly, “I forgot how camera shy you are.”

Lovett perks up despite himself. “There’s never any reports of anything, though, what does that have to do with it?”

“They try to keep it out of the normal media, but social media’s a whole different ballpark. I’ll get you on a mailing list.”

“I’m sorry,” Lovett says. “Have you been checking out awesome superhero snaps this whole time and not sharing with the class?!”

Tommy just smirks and forwards him a link to sign up for the list and shares the costume maker’s info. There are awesome superheroes on Snapchat, it turns out, and on Instagram, and there’s even one of them in LA.

He’s calling himself Shadow, and as much as Lovett hates the name (has this guy seen the movie?), he has to admit that the form-fitting black costume and flare for the dramatic is doing him a lot of favors. He follows him, and wonders what he’d call himself if he had to come up with something.

Not that he’s going to be a superhero. Nope. Not even close. He’d be pretty useless, he’s not even good at throwing a punch. Maybe the new force behind it would help, but he’s not holding his breath.

Nothing really changes in Lovett’s life, except he carries Pundit around even more than he already did. She feels way lighter to him now, and she’s certainly not complaining. He’s able to up his reps at the gym, and the weight itself. As his muscle tone improves, it feels like this new, weird ability (powers, he tries not to think) works hand in hand to make him stronger and more nimble. It’s nice, and he admires what it’s doing for his body overall, but it’s not as profound as he would have expected.

He’s content to watch this Shadow guy on Insta and be a little jealous he doesn’t have his own flashy ability (super speed, though way less impressive than that of Quicksilver or The Flash), and ignore Tommy’s increasing hints as to whether or not he’ll actually try to do anything unselfish with his newfound strength.

Nothing changes, until suddenly it does. He’s out with Pundit late one night, probably later than is wise given the neighborhood he’s wandered into. It’s all empty storefronts and closed shops, and though it shocks him, he’s not entirely surprised to accidentally walk up on a guy getting the shit kicked out of him by a couple other people.

They haven’t noticed him, so he quietly ties Pundit up in a dark corner, praying she won’t bark for once in her life. He flips up his hood and strides forward before he can think better of it, says, “Hey assholes,” and pulls the guy currently kicking away back so hard he flies across the street, nearly getting hit by an oncoming car.

The other assailant freezes, his eyes huge. “What the fuck?”

“Do you wanna join him?” Lovett asks.

The guy looks over to where his buddy is crumpled against a wall, not even trying to get back up. He looks back to Lovett and shakes his head, then he takes off.

Lovett makes sure the kid on the ground is okay–barely twenty if he’s a day–and crosses the street to the first guy. He uses his hoodie string to tie the guy up, only getting away with it because he’s still so out of it, and calls the cops.

Then he collects Pundit, tells the kid to stay put so he can press charges, and flees, adrenaline racing through him. It feels good. Really good. Even if no one’s going to be bragging about it online.

Except then the kid he saved does talk about it. He posts a video of himself to his Instagram story and it blows up, at least by underground “superhero” standards. The kid is totally wowed by him, and he makes a point of saying how hilarious his savior was, even though Lovett doesn’t think he said anything particularly funny in the moment.

He admits to Tommy the next day he might need a costume, and Tommy forwards him the designer’s info again. (What, so he might’ve already lost it, and?) The costume maker is a genius who doesn’t believe in small talk, and she’s more than a little biting toward Lovett until she realizes he’s not a total idiot. He loves her immediately.

Since she’s based in New York, they mostly communicate through Skype and email. It’s her idea to make him a hoodie he can wear everywhere without drawing too much intention, lined with kevlar that’s light and thin. She makes it in a deep charcoal, so he can wear it with his maroon pants, which he greatly appreciates. There’s an extra portion to tightly cover his face down to just below his nose that neatly folds up into the hood and is virtually undetectable. The makeshift mask looks a little like Matt Murdoch’s, without the horns. From the show, not the terrible movie.

She ships it to him after they’ve gone back and forth a million times, and she’s gotten every single measurement on top that Lovett could have imagined existed, and then some. He takes it over to Tommy’s right away, trying it on for him and getting a wolf whistle for his troubles.

He doesn’t go out looking for people to save or anything, but he wears the hoodie often, or keeps it close by. He breaks up another few fights, stops a handful of muggings, and mostly feels awesome about everything. He takes a couple hits, luckily none to the face, and gets angry all over again that he doesn’t have accelerated healing.

A few of his rescues are recorded, and they go semi-viral in this weird world, but none as much as Shadow’s. To Lovett’s eternal dismay, some grateful teenagers he saves start calling him Quip because of his quick commentary while scaring off the bad guys.

Tommy laughs so hard he cries when he finds out, then he starts laughing all over again. It’s a terrible cycle.

Shadow, of course, gets attention from KTLA when the DJs talk about him one morning after he saves a dog from a house fire, and then there’s a daring rescue of school kids that really lifts off. He becomes a trending topic on Twitter for LA, unusual in this little community.

Because it’s Twitter, Jon sees it.

“Holy shit, guys, have you seen this?” he asks breathlessly. He keeps replaying the short clip of Shadow zipping all the kids out of the bus before it topples over onto the highway below.

Lovett makes a noncommittal noise and lets Tommy take the lead in the conversation. Days later, Jon is still talking about it, starry-eyed as Lovett’s ever seen him. He’s totally into the world now, tracking superheros on all the platforms he can manage.

Whenever Jon’s out of the room, Lovett keeps asking Tommy questions like, “But don’t you think his obsession with this Shadow guy is a little over the top?”

Tommy just rolls his eyes and says, “The dude’s literally been trending on Twitter every day this week. He saved a bus full of children. And a dog.”

Lovett huffs. “Okay sure, fine, that’s great I guess.”

When Jon’s back in the office later, Lovett says, “What about Quip? Have you seen him?”

“Who?” Jon asks, dreamily scrolling through photos that people have posted of Shadow’s latest feat on Instagram, something about bachelorettes in Vegas. A few minutes later, he says, “Huh, well.”

“What’s that?” Lovett asks, trying to be coy about how he’s looking over.

“Oh,” one of the new interns says, looking at Jon’s computer. “His shoulders.”

“Yeah,” Jon replies faintly, and Lovett fights not to blush.

Tommy hums and looks straight at Lovett when he replies, “Yeah? I really like his thighs.”

“Mhmm,” Jon says. “For sure.”

Lovett ducks into the kitchen for a La Croix, but he can’t keep the stupid grin off his face.

It all comes to a head when Jon almost gets hit by a car while he’s on a run, thanks to his inability to stop obsessively reading Twitter. Naturally, Shadow saves him, because Lovett is at home eating takeout like a normal person.

For a solid two weeks, Jon’s even more besotted. Sighing while staring at his iPad, when he’s supposed to be doing research. Thank god his encounter isn’t one that got recorded, Lovett doesn’t think he could stand seeing it. Shadow’s arms wrapped around Jon, Jon staring at the guy like he’d hung the moon.

Lovett’s sure the car wasn’t going that fast, Jon probably would’ve been okay. Tommy glares at him when he shares that thought though, and Lovett grumbles and concedes that he’s just glad Jon is safe, he guesses.

The next time he and Jon go out, Jon leaves the bar first to wait for the Lyft while Lovett waits impatiently for the tab. When he walks out the door, he immediately sees Jon on the ground, his palms flat on the concrete. Some asshole is standing over him with, fuck. With a gun.

Lovett doesn’t think twice. He flips his hood up, quickly makes sure the mask is in place, and runs toward the would-be mugger. The guy is caught by surprise, so Lovett manages to break his wrist with little fanfare, though it does mean the gun accidentally goes off.

It’s several feet from where Jon is laid out, but he still flinches violently. Lovett zip ties the asshole (Tommy’s suggestion because they’re effective and easy to carry around), and calls the police.

Jon is shakily getting to his feet at this point, staring at Lovett with watery eyes. “Oh my god, thank you,” he says. “I can’t even begin to–you’re amazing.”

Luckily, the sirens ring out at that moment, distracting Jon enough that Lovett can duck away, pull back the hood, and pretend he’s just coming out of the bar. He lets Jon regale him with the daring tale, tells the cops he didn’t see anything, and gets a still trembling Jon safely into the car home.

The main thing about Quip are the reports of the one-sided banter he supplies, but of course, Lovett didn’t say anything to Jon. He honestly didn’t even think about it, it wasn’t important at the time, only Jon’s safety was. Now, though, Jon is pouting over it.

“Everyone online says he’s so funny,” Jon grouses on Monday at the office, after telling everyone on staff about his heroic encounter. “He didn’t say anything to me at all.”

Lovett looks wildly at Tommy for help, but Tommy just grins at him like he got the fucking canary. “Hey, did you guys see the new upload about Shadow?”

fucking traitor, Lovett slacks him.

Soon after, Lovett comes across Jon on his nightly–he doesn’t want to say patrol, he’s not fucking Batman, but if the shoe fits–walk. Jon is lingering near the bar where he’d almost been mugged before. It’s not an area Jon frequents, Lovett knows that, since the bar had been one of their employees’ suggestions.

Lovett watches him for awhile from afar, glad he’s not wearing his trademark red pants and trying to change his gait a little. He trails Jon for a good twenty minutes, and Jon doesn’t really end up anywhere. It’s suspicious as fuck.

When Lovett can’t take it anymore, tired of watching Jon looking desirable and pathetic on street corners, seeing him turn down multiple advances, he approaches him with the hood and mask on.

“Are you trying to get into trouble?” he asks, making his voice a little lower, a little more gruff.

Jon startles, spinning around to find Lovett–well, Quip–behind him. He smiles wide, and Lovett can’t get over how trusting he is. It’d be worrisome if it wasn’t Lovett behind the mask.

“Well?”

“Uh…” Jon says, looking down and rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

“Don’t pull this shit, man,” Lovett says. “It’s dangerous.”

Jon sighs. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I just–”

“Just what?” Lovett interrupts, angry and smarting with it. “Hoping Shadow’ll be there to save you the next time you nearly die?”

Jon’s cheeks go red. He answers a little too quickly for it to be believable. “What? No, of course not.”

Lovett stays where he is, fixing Jon with a hard look through the mesh lenses of his costume. He stands to his full height when he’s in disguise, minimizing the size difference between them.

“I was hoping to run into you again,” Jon admits, after a long moment of silence.

“Why?”

“I dunno. I just. I like you?”

Lovett barely stops himself from gasping.

“Can I?” Jon asks, not bothering to finish his sentence.

He steps closer and closer, until he’s in Lovett’s space. Then he leans forward and kisses Lovett’s mouth, light and fleeting.

“Get home,” Lovett says, his voice a croak. Then, when Jon doesn’t move, he adds, “Now.”

Jon nods and turns to walk away, his shoulder slumped.

On a whim, Lovett calls out, “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” and it’s worth it to hear Jon laugh.turns out i am terrible at getting to the good parts. i’ll probably be continuing this eventually! prompts list over here, feel free to shoot me an ask!

[kbaldwin0609]

'The Bachelor' season premiere recap: Arie begins his race to the altar

Arie Luyendyk Jr. is racin’ to find a wife. (Photo: ABC)

Warning: This recap of the season premiere of The Bachelor contains spoilers.

Do elderly former reality stars deserve love, too? It’s a question that I fear will never be answered to our true satisfaction, rose lovers, but darn it if this season of The Bachelor isn’t going to try. Having resurrected former The Bachelorette runner up Arie Luyendyk Jr. from his death of real estate and mid-level racing obscurity, producers hope to break new ground with the first-ever grey-haired Bachelor… just not the one you were expecting.

Now that he’s had five years to heal his wounded heart, Arie is ready for “the most important race of his life”: finding a wife in nine short, heavily-produced weeks.

Man, is this previously-on recap still going on?

Photo: ABC

We get it, guys — Emily crushed Arie’s heart. But we’ve got 29 new “ladies” who want to get in his drivers’ seat, so how about we get this show on the road?

Photo: ABC

Sigh. Fine, let Sean and Catherine Lowe, the First Couple of Bachelor Nation, impart some “wisdom” to their single friend — and give their little boy Samuel something to talk about when he meets up with friends Ty (season 13), Ricki (Bachelorette, season 8), and Camila (season 18) in their weekly Bachelor Spawn-Anon meetings.

Photo: ABC

Hang in there, little buddy.

With the build-up over, Chris Harrison greets us at Casa Bachelor to introduce “some truly extraordinary women” who are ready to get wifed up. Robot roll call:

Chelsea, 29: Props to this single mom from Maine for not trotting out her little one, Sammy, for her intro package. The “real estate exec. assistant” also finds it “comforting” that her Bachelor is Arie, because he proved during Emily’s season that he’s not afraid to fake settle down with a woman and her child.

Caroline, 26: Another real estate professional! Though she’s “really good” at her job, Caroline says being a wife and mother is “at the top of my priority list.” Well, as that Rasta dude says at the end of Pretty Woman, “Some dreams come true, some don’t — but keep on dreamin’.”

Maquel, 23: This professional photographer from Utah is admittedly “jealous” of the happy couples she photographs… but not in a scary, Lifetime movie way, okay?

Nysha, 30: “The more blood, the better for me!” No, that’s not Nysha’s plan for eliminating her competition in the house — she’s a nurse, silly! One who likes patching up seriously-injured patients — and one who already took a Bachelor-approved Leap Of Faith™ by sky-diving for her 30th birthday.

Tia, 26: Living in the tiny town of Weiner, Arkansas means Tia and her friends have to “make our own fun” — like exercising their 2nd Amendment rights.

Tia’s got her gun.

Oh, look who it is!

Photo: ABC

If you thought Tia seemed a little familiar, what with her long-layered dark locks and her Southern twang, that might be because she’s modeled after/a “good friend” of Bachelor Nation favorite (and fellow small-town Arkansas girl) Raven Gates. (And if you’re playing Bachelor bingo, be sure to stamp “Bachelor in Paradise shoe-in” on your scorecard.)

Kendall, 26: What does “weird” look like on The Bachelor? It’s tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and surrounded by stuffed animals.

Photo: ABC

Yep, Kendall collects taxidermy, and her longest relationships tend to be with preserved animal carcasses, not human beings. Team Bachelor pushed things a little too far with the ukulele bit, though — now Kendall’s not only quirky, she’s annoying.

Bekah M.:  Much has been made of Bekah, both for her short haircut — how did she even get in the door??? — and for the fact that she’s so young. Though producers are playing coy with her age, you don’t need a birth certificate to see that this girl is just that — a girl. Honestly, she looks like she could be a stand-in for one of the kids on Stranger Things.

Photo: ABC

Marikh, 27: This stunningly beautiful woman co-owns an Indian restaurant with her mother and, even more impressively, she did not punch the producer who asked her to say this on camera:

Photo: ABC

Krystal, 29: Oh man, why do bad shows happen to good people? Krystal is a fitness coach who volunteers distributing food to the homeless men and women of San Diego, because her younger brother is currently living on the streets. “I try to treat people how I would want someone to treat him,” she says through tears.

Enough humanity! Send in the chattle — bathed, perfumed and bronzed for Arie’s enjoyment!

Photo: ABC

And the first “lady” out is… Caroline the realtor! She makes a cutesy joke about taking Arie “off the market,” and then beats a hasty retreat inside. Up next is Chelsea the single mom, followed by Kendall the token weirdo. Our first new face is Seinne, who works in real estate (Arie clearly has a type) and who’s also the first woman to bring Arie a gift: Elephant cufflinks. “An elephant never forgets, so don’t forget to find me inside,” Seinne says with a smile. Survey says? Just the right amount of cute.

Tia (who shall heretofore be known as Raven 2) hands Arie a small, plastic hot dog. “Please tell me you don’t already have a little wiener,” she drawls, as all the 7th grade boys who apparently produce this show crack up in the control room. Poor Arie, though, doesn’t quite seem to get the joke. “I do not have this,” he replies, holding up the trinket. “You did good.”

Next up is Bibiana, a fertility-minded executive assistant from Florida (“Oh my god, our babies would have blue eyes!”), followed by Bri, a sports reporter who greets Arie by tossing him a literal softball. Jenny the 25-year-old blonde gets the intro brush-off in favor of Brittane J., who decides to mark her territory by slapping a bumper sticker on Arie’s behind.

Photo: ABC

Jacqueline the research coordinator assures Arie all he has to do is “stand there and look pretty,” but Krystal disagrees: She commands Arie to close his eyes, take some deep breaths, and “reflect on feeling so grateful for everything leading to this moment.” (I suspect that somewhere, Peter Kraus is taking some much-needed deep breaths too.)

Nysha bucks convention by opting for a cocktail length dress rather than a gown, while Valerie the brunette waitress opts for a canary-yellow number that contrasts sharply with the purple undertones of her hair. Team Bachelor intercuts all the less showy arrivals with shots of the “ladies” in the house shifting nervously in their seats every time a new woman enters the mansion. Except for Chelsea, that is: “I’m not worried,” she sniffs. “There’s [sic] no threats.”

Bekah makes the first thematically-mandated auto entrance of the evening, driving up in a cherry red Mustang convertible. “I may be young,” she tells Arie, “but I can still appreciate something classic.” Translation:

Photo: ABC

And he LOVES it. “She is so beautiful,” he whispers as Bekah bounces inside.

Jenna, the 28-year-old social media manager, can’t stop waving her arms around during her introduction to Arie; Jessica the TV host emerges from the limo clutching something called a “gratitude rock,” which sounds like a hotel gift shop trinket — but points for effort, I guess?  Marikh the restaurant owner goes back to the spice well, joking about Arie’s “salt and pepper” hair, and then we get a brief glimpse of Olivia, a 23-year-old marketing associate from Chicago.

Becca K. (not to be confused with Bekah with a k) instructs Arie to get down on one knee and ask her if she’s “ready to do the damn thing.”

Photo: ABC

Is it me, or does long-suffering Arie seem a little annoyed? “That was a first for me,” he mutters drily to the camera, fishing Becca’s ring from his coat pocket like he can’t get it away from him fast enough. And still the limos keep coming.

Photo: ABC

A second social media manager? Perhaps that’s the new “VIP Cocktail Waitress.” Next up is Lauren J. from Louisiana, who one-ups Raven 2 and her plastic wiener by giving Arie some giant balls (in the form of Mardi Gras beads). But the Laurens aren’t done with us yet, folks.

Photo: ABC

And remarkably, they’re not all blonde.

Photo: ABC

The “Lauren Limo” tops out at four, and so it’s on to Ashley and her checkered flag; Brittany T., who attempts to say “You’re handsome” in Dutch (a language Arie speaks fluently); and Amber, who makes a memorable first impression by telling the Bachelor about one drawback of owning a spray-tan company:

Photo: ABC

But honestly, rose lovers, Amber’s ice-breaker is Emily Post-level conduct compared to Ali the personal stylist dreams up:

Photo: ABC

It’s a “pit stop”! Get it? Because he’s a racecar driver? Yeah, let’s just move on.

Photo: ABC

Okay, Annaliese, your joke about Arie’s “kissing bandit” nickname is cute, but talk to me when you’ve kept that mask on for days, like Jeff from Ashley���s season of The Bachelorette.

The deafening roar of an engine precedes our next arrival. “No she didn’t!” gasps one of the women watching from inside the mansion, as Maquel climbs out of an IndyCar. Honestly, did they really think Bekah was going to be the only contestant who showed up on wheels?  The other bachelorettes are so annoyed by Maquel’s flashy entrance, they park themselves right in the shot as she introduces herself to Arie.

Photo: ABC

Simmer down, “ladies” — your probably-not future husband is making his way inside right this very minute. Chelsea tries to offer him a drink, but Arie’s too focused on making his welcome speech sound as earnest as possible.

Awkward.

An off-camera producer mouths something like “take the damn drink, you moron” at Arie, and he pauses to accept the glass from Chelsea. “See, I’m already messing up!” moans our Bachelor with a chuckle.

Seeing that Chelsea already had the pimp spot, is it any wonder that she’s the first one to “steal” Arie for a chat? “I’m not a rude person,” she says. “But I want to get to know him quickly so I can proceed with the rest of my life, possibly with him.” As we saw from her introduction, Chelsea’s whole shtick is being “mysterious” — which mainly means talking about herself in the past perfect tense, like “there have been some sacrifices that were made.” And he LOVES it. “Chelsea’s very good at leaving me wanting a little bit more,” he says. “It’s working.”

Unfortunately for Chelsea, she barely has time to drape Arie in her shimmering veil of mystery before Maquel shows up and politely asks to cut in. Though Maquel could not have been nicer about it, Chelsea immediately begins swanning around the house complaining about “the girl that makes all the noise,” who interrupted her time with Arie. This, coupled with all the other snotty things we’ve seen Chelsea say so far tonight, makes it pretty clear that she’s getting the Villain Edit. And by “Villain Edit,” I mean that cameras have captured Chelsea being bitchy several times, and producers have opted to use that footage.

Perhaps producers were focusing so much on Chelsea’s rude behavior because so many of the other women are actually being… nice to each other? Here they are sharing their feelings on interracial relationships:

Photo: ABC

And here they are bonding over the fact that, OMG, they’re on the freakin’ Bachelor!

Photo: ABC

Meanwhile, the get-to-know-you chats are proceeding apace. Brittany T. challenges Arie to a battery-operated car race…

Photo: ABC

…and even though her victory is totally fraudulent, she still claims her prize: The night’s first kiss. Cue the “nervous ladies start steppin’ up their game” montage! Kendall serenades Arie with an original ukulele composition about roses and fish; Caroline brings Arie some pizza (which looks like it was sitting out on the craft services table for a while, but again, points for effort); and Lauren G. shoves some fruit in Arie’s mouth and informs him that “pineapple” is her safe word.

Photo: ABC

Jenna the social media manager gives Arie a socks-off foot massage while blathering on about her “super-in-tune” senses and all the free food and “spa stuff” she gets on a regular basis. For some reason, Arie finds this whole flibbertigibbet act “intriguing” — it might have something to do with Jenna being a tall skinny blonde, but that’s just a guess.

Oh snap, look who’s here.

Photo: ABC

The first impression rose means that the clock (biological and otherwise) is ticking. Form an orderly line, “ladies” — and then watch as Chelsea cuts to the front. “I understand that I’m in a sea of beautiful women and they could possibly get mad at me,” she explains, “but I don’t care.” Arie doesn’t seem to mind, either.

Photo: ABC

“You snuck up on me there, but I liked it,” he murmurs after their face-mash time. Will Chelsea’s surprise smooch top Jenny’s graphite portrait of Arie in a sports car? Or Jessica’s reveal that her late father met Arie and rooted for him on the race track? Or Bekah’s flirtatious, short-haired joie de vivre?

Yes. Yes, it will.

Photo: ABC

Clink clink clink! Here comes Chris Harrison and his Butter Knife of Bad News. “Ladies,” please proceed to the rose ceremony… as soon as you’re done with your coffee.

Photo: ABC

Indeed, the sun is beginning its arc across the sky over Casa Bachelor when Arie finally begins handing out roses. Becca K., Marikh, Kendall, Lauren G., Krystal, Bekah M., Lauren S., Seinne, Caroline, Brittany T., Bibiana, Annaliese, Jenna, Valerie, Jacqueline, Jenny, Lauren B., Ashley, Tia, Maquel, and Chelsea are still in the running to become America’s Next Top Fiancée. Which means this is goodbye for Ali, Amber, Bri, Brittnae J., Jessica, Lauren J., Nysha and Olivia.

Emotionally drained and exhausted from the all-nighter, poor Jessica takes the rejection the hardest — but her tears are more for her father than the Bachelor. “Now my dad will never meet my husband,” she says sadly. (Remember kids: It’s never a bad time to call your parents to say “I love you.”) Amber the spray-tan proprietor is pretty crushed, too. “I’m so disappointed in myself,” she says in a wobbly voice. “I had, like, my family rooting so hard for me. I feel like they’re going to be disappointed, you know?” Focus on the positive, honey: They didn’t disown you for going on The Bachelor, so they’ll probably forgive you, someday, for getting kicked off.

Wow, have we made it to the “this season on The Bachelor” preview already? Man, those two hours just flew by. As usual, the super-tease has a stellar crying montage.

Suitable for framing. (Photos: ABC)

Oh, and how about that disembodied voice barking “I don’t want to be on the show! I want my girl!” at a producer toward the end of the preview? Any guesses on which “lady” that riled-up beau belongs to? (I’m going with Raven 2 or Krystal.)

Congrats on getting through week 1, rose lovers! Now tell me, did Arie meet your (lowered) expectations? Post your thoughts now! And be sure to check out Chris Harrison’s behind-the-scenes blog here.

The Bachelor airs Mondays at 8 p.m. on ABC.

Read more from Yahoo Entertainment:

Winter TV Preview: The scoop on 10 returning favorites

Inside the Bellas’ final riff-off in ‘Pitch Perfect 3’: An aca-oral history

New Year’s resolutions celebrities should be making for 2018

[hoodie-at-the-bar]

farting gene (a.k.a christmas gene)

Remember Christmas Gene? I wrote about him last holiday - one of those chat but never met up. He was from San Diego and was very direct asking me to his sister’s Christmas party and sending me photos of his sweater.

He was very cute, very attractive - and he definitely knew it.

We kept in light touch –he messaged me in October, asking me if I was still single. I responded with “Do you still not live in Seattle?”

He texted me on the Friday after Thanksgiving, then he Face-Timed me. He was one of those attractive guys who exuberated confidence. He was in the car with his best friend. Leon, who just moved to Seattle. When he panned the the camera to his friend, the friend said, “Who are you?”

I replied “Some girl Gene has never met.” They laughed and the three of us had pretty good banter. Gene and Leon were on their way to Barnacle, a cocktail spot in Ballard and asked me to join. I said I had plans- I was waiting to hear confirmation from Andrew about our movie date. Gene said, “So listen, last time you said you didn’t want to go out with me because I don’t live in Seattle. Well I come here often, and I’m willing to make it work. Because I too am looking for a serious relationship.” His confidence, normally unattractive to me, for some reason I was into. I said I needed to wait and see about my other plans. Gene said, “Give this guy another 15 minutes then come join us.” Confidence called me out it was a guy.

So then I called my sister and my friend to get advice. I called my friend and told her about Andrew, a nice guy I went out with once that who I would be watching a movie at my house with, or Gene who I had a good feeling about from our video chat. She said I should go with Gene because she could tell I was more excited about him. My sister said Andrew is the Peeta and Gene was the Gale – it was our Hunger Games reference for the hot guy and the good guy. I told her what my friend said, and that at least with Gene I could escape, but Andrew lives far away and would probably expect to stay over. My sister agreed we don’t even know if Andrew ‘Is’ the good guy. So I cancelled with Andrew (the potentially one night stand anyhow) and got a Lyft to see Christmas Gene of 2016.

I got to Barnacle and a short Spanish guy called out to me, “Gene is in the bathroom.” I sat down and put on my game face to impress the friend. He was awesome – I really liked Leon (platonically). Then a tall man comes to my side and gives me a very good hug – full body and embraced arms. Gene was tall, good hair and a light beard. He looked like DeLuca from Grey’s Anatomy and I was immediately enamored.

He stared into my eyes with a slight smile, saying it’s been too long and we finally met, rubbing my back so casually as if we’ve been dating for years. He was half Puerto Rican as well, and was shocked and happy to find I was.  The guys had put their name down to go to Walrus and Carpenter – a hip place in Ballard known for their Oysters and 3 hour wait time. Also, very pricey.

I learned a lot about Gene: He had slept with over 100 women, was surprised he only got chlamydia (his words not mine), just bought a house – seems he was showcasing his own pony. He said his mother would love me, and asked Leon to confirm. He talked a lot to Leon about me, in front of my face, but not always acknowledging me – that power play. Saying things like “I should have known she was Puerto Rican [turns to me] I was checking out your ass” and later saying “you have nice breasts – you can’t tell but I can when I’m looking down your shirt.”

That’s cool.

I realized, Gene didn’t try to ‘woo’ me, or court me, because his confidence gave him the immunity to say whatever he pleased. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. I was running my diagnostics and It was still loading. The server came and Gene turned to him and said, “Give us your 12 best oysters and your most expensive Mescal.” Okay – it’s going to be one of THOSE nights. Gene and Leon started talking about Gene’s house in San Diego and Leon’s expensive $10,000 watch. Leon didn’t seem to be instigating this conversation but Gene was, doing the macho thing where he calls his buddy an “asshole” for getting a nice watch when his watch only cost $3,000. When the oysters came Gene went straight for them, and Leon had to say, “Hey man, give one to...”

Gen paused, grabbed one, and handed it to me staring longingly into my eyes, continuing to kiss me on the cheek throughout the night. I purposely gave him my cheek as I knew he’d go for the lips.

Gene would either give me so much attention, or ignore me completely as he talked with Leon.  It was all part of that hot confident guy game, and he knew he can get a girl in bed so didn’t even had to try. Unfortunately for him, I don’t think this would fly with me. However, I’ve got a blog to write, so let’s see what happens next.

The check came and Gene said he’d pay for me because I was his guest, so Leon only paid a third. Earlier at Barnacle both guys said my money was no good there when I tried to pay for my drink. So we started walking up the street to another bar. At one point, Gene stepped aside and said he needed to fart – and he did, loudly. He then walked up to me and held my hand. Seriously.

He would either walk ahead of me and Leon on his own, or stay next to me holding my hand or put his arm around me. He also was one of those guys who got off on talking to strangers, as if I were a college kid thinking, “wow what a crazy fun guy not having a care in the world!” But I’m 34, it came off as immature and obnoxious. He stopped a guy in the middle of the sidewalk just to say, “hi, how’s it going” – and not just a question, but actually made the guy stop in his tracks.

He then butted in on three young girls passing a joint, and started flirting with them, and asked to smoke and passed the joint around. The girls were eating it up. Later he stopped by a homeless man and just chatted it up, with a bewildered look of “wow what a cool story that bum had.”

We went into Percy’s and I got us a round of drinks. That’s when Gene stopped me and said, “Can I have a kiss?” and kissed me on the lips. What’s happening? He also shared a story about how he dated a girl and then they broke up and she got cancer, and he never visited her. Leon did, but he never did. She passed away and he regrets never seeing her. That’s a deep conversation to have on a first three-way date about a mistake you made.

We then started walking to another bar and this time Gene was on the give me attention kick. He stopped in front of the Sunset Tavern and looked in. “What do you think is going on there? There’s an attractive girl and an unattractive guy that looks like a date but – oh wait, she just gave him a high-five, what do you think that means?” I said I didn’t know, maybe he said a funny joke or they were on the same page. He said he thinks the guy was friend zoned – then he turned and stopped a woman who was walking. She kept walking, ignoring him, until he said “Excuse me I have a question – “ and kept talking. He asked this stranger on the street what she would make of this high-five and the woman concurred she thought the guy was friend zoned. That’s when Gene said, “I’m going to find out” and walks in the bar. Leon and I walked slowly behind, then turned and sat at a booth far away – I was embarked. Who is this ass-clown think he is? Seriously? That pompous to think you’ve got the right to interrupt the date and be rude? But of course not – he’s a charming mother trucker who can get away with anything.

Throughout the night, Gene asked me to spend the night with him. He was staying with his friend Leon, and I said I wasn’t going to third wheel Leon at his house. I offered him to stay at my place, but we wouldn’t have sex. He asked why? I said I rather not sleep with a guy on a first date. He then told me about several relationships he’s had with women who he slept with on a first date. I then said okay, what if I said we can sleep together, but then that’s it – no more dates. He said it wasn’t fair. I never made that ultimatum to a guy before, but as I said it I kind of liked it… I mean, if you’re really interested in dating me, would you give it up for a quick lay?

Anyway, we had this conversation twice throughout the night, about sleeping arrangements. Finally, Leon drove to my house and Gene says, “oh wow, let’s check out your house!” and Leon says, “No dude, let her sleep – she’s tired”. I said it was fine and invited them both in. Gene starts playing my piano – not well, but not horribly, but a drunken gibberish of keys. This probably went on for about 15 minutes, and I turned to Leon, “How long should I let this go for?”  A random drunk guy playing my piano… gets old. Finally, Gene gets up and says, “Wow, I’ve never played the piano before!” and then tells Leon he was staying with me because Leon snores. Why do guys need to come up with a phony reason?

Later he asked to smoke pot. I gave him some weed, and he proceeded to talk about how it’s the worst weed he’s ever seen: dry, and just terrible. But his tone was as if he was being sincere and just shocked. “Like seriously, I’ve never seen weed this bad I just… I can’t smoke this.” Oh yeah, though he’s a flashy medical salesman, he also grows his own cannibals in California – which he told those three girls, and said they should connect on Facebook to do business together.

So we go upstairs and Gene tells me he has to poop. I told him to use the downstairs bathroom. This is all real life by the way. I texted him “is everything ok down there?” because he was taking a while. He comes to my room and gets down to his boxer briefs. Yep, Gene had a nice body, and needed to look the way he did to get away with half of what … who he is.

“What are these pills for?” he asks as he picks up my birth control pills from the dresser. Anyone over the age of 12 knows what those look like – but he asked to sound stupid, so I can say I’m on the pill? I found myself growing more and more unattached to this guy. I hadn’t fully made a decision what would happen in the bedroom, but as the night progressed it became grossly clear the answer was: nothing. Nothing would happen. He was definitely trying – and I said no, several times. He kept asking, “Why? Why won’t you have sex with me?” I said because I didn’t want to. He said, “But there has to be a reason why?” I said nope. “Is it because you really like me?” I borderline laughed out loud, but instead just said “no…..”

“Don’t you love me?” I gave him the same answer: no

He began to pout. We ended up going to bed. In the middle of the night there was shuffling and somehow we were awake at the same time. Without getting too detailed or graphic, we’ve all been in the situation where we are in bed with someone, and whether you like the guy or not there will be some making out. Nothing will progress of course, but with Gene, it was a constant battle of explanation.

Disclaimer: this story may not sit well with some women. A guy pressuring a woman for sex, not taking ‘no’ for an answer, and coming on very strong. For womankind, I should have thrown his ass out of my house, right?

Why didn’t I? Honestly, I didn’t feel threatened and it seemed like more trouble to kick him out. At most I’d send him to the couch, but I was always able to get him pouting again and to bed.

The best part was, he spoons me and lets out an enormous fart. Yes, a fart ss loud I felt the vibrations. This wasn’t the first or second time I’ve heard him fart – on our first date. “Oh that was a gooood one” he says.

“That is so not attractive you know,” I responded.

“But it was a good one?” he said in a pouty voice.

At this point, he could be Brad Pitt and I wouldn’t touch his penis.

After that, I went to bed. In the morning, I got dressed to get ready for the day and he said he needed another hour of sleep, asking if I did too – a passive aggressive invite to come back to bed to him. Yes, I want to crawl back into bed with you. No, no I do not. I said I’m good and went downstairs. He probably slept in my bed for a good solid hour before coming down. He said he was going to call a Lyft, not Uber. That made me realize he knew where I worked, but never asked me a single question the night before – anything, about me.

He was complaining about the app - why it looked like his driver wasn’t moving. He suddenly shot up and said “My Lyft’s here” ran out the door and shouted “bye!’ without even as much as turning back – no hug, not kiss goodnight. It was almost socially awkward and strange how he darted out. Later that day he responded to my text the night before: 

We hadn’t texted after, until some time in January where he said he was in town and wanted to see me again. A week after he sent me a Snap of him drinking whiskey. I wonder how long this will go for? No, I can’t even ghost Farting Gene - I’ll let him know... eventually.

-November 25, 2017

Date #1 with BMBL Gene Suitors in 2017 YTD: 36 Dates in 2017 YTD: 44

[stophookingatmeswan]

Guitars and Scarred Hearts 5/?

A CS Rockstar!Killian AU

Also on AO3 - check the new tag, loves

Super huge shoutout to @lenfaz​ for carrying my ass to the finish line. Tagging @teamhook​ and @galadriel26​, too. 

****

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit!”  

Emma scrambled to get herself back to rights in order to help Henry. The sundress she’d stripped off was tossed five feet away and even in the dim light, she could see it was inside out. Killian was holding up one half of her bikini sideways, clearly trying to determine whether it was the top or bottom. As another heave and telltale splatter came from the rear of the boat, he all but threw them at her, quickly doing up the three bottom buttons on his shirt and stuffing the tails down into his boxers, jostling his hand a little to try and clean himself off. 

“Swan, I’ll go see to Henry.” He was already on his feet, moving away from her. “You take a moment.” 

“Killian you don’t have to-“ Cursing under her breath, Emma found the two halves of her bikini and made quick work of tying the bottoms back on, stretching to reach the last piece of discarded clothing as she heard him speak to Henry.

“Come on. We’ll hit the head and see if there’s anything left in that stomach.” 

Emma tied on her top and worked her dress right side in, watching Killian pick Henry up, sidestep what looked to be a pretty spectacular puddle of barf if his wide berth was any indication, and descend down the steps to the cabin. She couldn’t remember the last time she wasn’t front, center and on her own dealing with a sick kid, and there was no small twinge of multi-flavored guilt as Emma stood and finished getting dressed.

She felt bad she hadn’t taken Henry home, not that she could have predicted everything he’d eaten would make a splashy reappearance. And felt even worse that her motivation for not doing so had been completely selfish. Add in the fact that she’d taken for granted that Henry slept like the dead and had indulged in some highly illicit sexcapades with one of her oldest friends out in the open on a fucking boat, and Emma was certain she’d hit the jackpot on some sort of Shitty Parenting trifecta. 

Mumbling as much under her breath, she took stock of Henry’s christening on the deck and ducked down into the cabin, following the faint sound of Killian singing. The tiny bathroom was crowded even with just two people in it and Emma leaned against the jamb, her heart tugging at the sight before her. 

Killian sat cross-legged in front of the toilet, Henry in his lap. A soothing hand, bare of its usual array of flashy rings, rubbed over the sweaty shirt sticking to Henry’s back. 

“I think we’re just about empty, Swan. Nothing’s come up since we came in here.” 

Killian’s shirt had a darkened mark up and over the shoulder; Emma realized that her kid had probably chucked on him while being carried and she fumbled out an apology to which Killian held up a hand. 

“No need, love. I have ten years in bars and backstage under my belt with countless people who can’t hold their liquor. Pizza and ice cream is a nice change from Jell-O shots and Jagerbombs.” He murmured something in Henry’s ear and they both started to shift. 

Killian untangled his limbs and stood, stepping out into the cabin and gesturing to Emma as he stepped into the main part of the cabin. 

“So here’s the deal. I can call Anton – or not,” he finished as Emma couldn’t help the flash of contrition on her face. 

“Since your bleeding heart won’t allow me to do that, you can either stay here and hope the wind doesn’t pick up and toss Henry’s already touchy stomach, or I can ready the sails, pull anchor and have us back at the docks in twenty minutes. You can get that one,” his chin jutted in the direction of the bathroom, “home and in a proper bed. And one that won’t move under him.” 

Trying not to stare at Killian’s abs as he did an oddly intriguing body roll shrugging his soiled shirt off, Emma teased him to distract herself. 

“You can do all of that in twenty minutes?” She blurted it without thinking just as her eyes slammed shut and she desperately tried to not allow a sudden highlight reel of everything he’d proven he could do to her body in just half that time race through her head. 

Congratulations, Emma. You played yourself.

When her eyes opened, Killian was looking at her with an amused and altogether knowing smile on his face. 

“I’m a hell of a captain.” He dragged a clean tee shirt over his head, purple-tipped hair managing to dishevel even more, as his voice dropped into a deeper register and he leaned in toward her ear. “And you’ve experienced first hand how nimble my hands are, haven’t you, love? A few sailor’s knots are nothing.” To put an exclamation point on it, he ghosted his fingertips across her upper chest, and looked entirely too pleased when her breath hitched. 

Smug bastard. 

“So what will it be?” He stepped away and leaned his ass against a built-in stack of drawers, bending a knee to rest a bare foot against the wood, looking every inch the suave motherfucker he was until the boat lurched, sprawling them both onto the bench seat behind her knees. A heaving noise and a groaned, “Moooom” had Emma bouncing up to see to Henry, the thought of spending the rest of the night huddled with him in the tiny bathroom as he yacked making her decision for her. 

“Let’s get him home.” 

Killian’s sincere “as you wish” was background noise – and Emma knew he didn’t mind – as she rushed to help her kid. Settling behind Henry, she smoothed his hair back when his head dropped back onto her shoulder and, taking a cue from their Captain, started telling him the story of Wesley and Buttercup to keep his mind off the rolling waves. 

 ****

“I told you land legs are a thing, Swan.” Killian tried not to laugh as he watched Emma walking ahead; her arms comically out to the side for balance on the wide pier. Her shuffling reminded him of a pregnant woman and, for a split second, he had a strong mental image of her with child – his child – and it caused a rush of emotion that started with an ache in his heart and ended with an eye roll. They’d just traded orgasms on a boat deck after spending the last decade of their lives at a distance that, if he was being honest, was emotionally safe for both of them and his stupid brain was already knocking her up. 

Talk about putting the fucking cart before the horse. 

He hefted Henry into a more comfortable position on his shoulder and followed Emma up the ramp to the access gate and through it, eyes sweeping the darkened recesses of the area as they made their way past the permit-only parking reserved for house boat residents and slip owners to the visitor’s lot. 

Only two cars remained; the rental Emma had driven and a white van that screamed “free candy”. Killian caught a whiff of cigarette smoke almost hidden in a gust of wind that came from the direction of the van. 

The driver’s side window of the van was open, an arc of orange light falling to the ground as the occupant flicked the cigarette out onto the pavement. It joined a pile of other discarded butts on the ground and Killian’s stomach reeled just as the vehicle’s door started to open. 

“Emma, go. Run!” He nudged her just as the first flash went off, putting himself between her and the photographer and shifting Henry into a bridal-style carry with his face tucked into Killian’s neck so he wasn’t visible. 

“What?” Turning instinctively to look, another flash illuminated her face, horror and panic flooding her features when she realized what was happening. “Oh, fuck!” 

The lurk-for-hours-smoking habit didn’t keep the photographer from keeping up with them and Killian tried to block out the wheedling pleas begging him for a pic. 

“C’mon, man, I’m a big fan. I just need one clear one and then I’ll leave you alone.” The rapid click of the camera’s shutter as the man tried to get a shot of Henry over the top of Killian’s shoulder almost managed to drown out the bullshit but did nothing to mute the indignant, “HEY!” shouted in Killian’s ear when his elbow connected with the asshole’s ribs just as they reached the Mercedes. 

Killian knew the nudge would only buy them a little time, so he shoved Henry into Emma’s arms. 

“Get him out of here. I’ll handle this.” 

He barely had time to see Emma bundle Henry in the backseat and shoot him a fearful look, hesitating just a moment. 

“Go!” 

She sat down into the car, legs swinging in at the same time the engine roared to life. The tires squealed as Emma hit the unfamiliar gas pedal and peeled out of the parking space, nearly colliding with a second van as it raced into the harbor parking lot. Before he could register what was happening the shove he was expecting for throwing an elbow came. The words, on the other hand, were something for which he was not prepared and they had him seeing red. 

“You assaulted me first and my buddy here has it all on camera. I’m gonna sue your ass for everything you have. I hope that whore and her dumb kid is worth it, pretty boy. “ 

He wasn’t sure which split first: his knuckles or the skin under the photographer’s eye when Killian’s fist made contact. 

**** 

 Moving around the kitchen bleary-eyed and thanking the Vomit Gods that Henry had been sleeping uninterrupted for a while, Emma brewed a strong cup of coffee designed to counteract the four hours of sleep she’d had. 

The drive home consisted of two stops – one for ginger ale and crackers at a gas station convenience store and one two miles down the road when the few bites and tentative sips he took hasn’t stayed down. A car slowed to a crawl as it passed their spot on the side of the road, the driver’s neck craning. On edge and paranoid she was being followed, Emma drove exactly the speed limit the rest of the way, eyes darting to the rearview and side mirrors every time another vehicle’s headlights came into view.

Instead of picking up her own car, she drove straight home, huffing as she carried Henry inside. Getting him changed out of his sweaty, barf-flecked clothes had been like trying to wrestle a wet tee shirt off a tranquilized monkey and by the time Emma got him in bed, she was sweaty herself. 

What was going to be a quick shower turned into a long one, her back turned to the water as she let the sharpest setting on the showerhead help beat back the headache she had from the tense drive home. By the time she checked on Henry one last time and collapsed into bed, the dawn of light was already seeping around edges of the blinds hung in the bedroom windows. 

She blinked against the full light of day now, scowling at the brightness coming in over the kitchen window, taking her cup to the kitchen table and opening her laptop. Just because she’d taken the day off yesterday her business hadn’t, and Emma gulped coffee as she accessed her four usual tabs: Gmail, the Swan Bonds, L.L.C. banking books, a shared Excel spreadsheet of their current outstanding bonds, and MSN’s homepage. 

Catch up with a few emails, check to make sure payroll had deducted properly, look to see if the band of hooligans one of her bondsmen had dubbed the Seven Dwarfs were going to – once again – collectively pay her bills next month via their latest bout of fuckery and felony, and catch up on the news. 

Waiting for the other programs and pages to load, Emma clicked over to the MSN tab and took a few more sips of coffee, holding the warm cup in both hands as she let the slideshow of headlines scroll, perusing them with varying degrees of interest. The sponsored ad for building a Halo army on Xbox one got the least amount of attention. A story about a couple that converted an airport cargo van into an 80 square foot home earned a single-too-long scoff at the claustrophobia of living in such cramped quarters with someone. 

With her eyes rolling, she missed all but a glance at the next slide. A shock of purple hair caught her eye right as it was replaced with an article about must-dos for this month’s budget. Emma’s coffee sloshed out over her wrist as she tried to put it down and banged against the edge of the table instead. Wiping her hand on her leggings, she quickly clicked the back button and stared. 

Killian Jones Arrested.  

A quick Google search showed the media was going apeshit over what one site dubbed his “latest bout of bad boy antics.” 

The photographs were much clearer than the ones of them by the tour bus; Killian swinging wildly at the paparazzo that tried to get photos of Henry, getting tackled by a second, larger man and being bent over a police car as a cop read him his rights and put him in handcuffs.

Clicking through the more salacious gossip sites, Emma learned a source inside the police department revealed he’d been booked on assault charges thanks to the paparazzo’s broken eye socket.

TMZ had footage of him coming out of the of the county lockup in plain-ish view of a huge crowd of media and onlookers, and Emma couldn’t figure out why the hell he hadn’t called her to bail him out. She didn’t know what bond office he had used, but it was clearly one without the connections hers had. She would have been able to get him into a car in one of the underground garages to save him the perp walk. 

Rewinding the video, she scrutinized his face as one of the cameras zoomed in. He had a black eye and a split lip and Killian gave a half-assed wave to the screaming crowd as he hopped into a Suburban that inched forward when it cleared the gates until the crowd parted and then sped away. 

Emma picked up her phone, ready to unleash hell and thumbs of fury texting him when a gravelly voice came from the doorway of the kitchen. 

Henry was leaning against the wall, looking a tragic mix of better and forlorn. Put to bed in just underwear, he was dressed in a kick-around-the-house tee shirt and a pair of sweatpants; her first sign he was on the mend. Emma had a firm “no nips at the table” policy and when Henry had those growing boy days when he woke up ravenous, food and the necessary clothes to partake came before anything else. 

“I’m starving.” He brushed past her and opened the pantry, perusing his cereal options. Sighing heavily when Emma tossed out a “nope” as he reached for the box of Lucky Charms he’d begged her to buy with his allowance money, Henry settled for plain Cheerios and brought the box to the table. 

Thrust into mom mode, Emma put her phone down, figuring she’d text him later to find out why the hell he hadn’t called her to bail his ass out of jail. Or, better yet, she’d wait for him to call with an explanation. Closing out all the tabs on her computer that mentioned his name, she turned her attention to Henry and tried to push Killian out of her head for the moment. 

 ****

That moment turned into a week. A week of going through the five stages of I’m Not Obsessing: worry, backspaced text messages, feigned indifference, anger and the drowning of the sorrows. The very pissed off sorrows.     

Okay, maybe she was halfway between the fourth and fifth steps. 

Being was at home alone on a Saturday night with nothing but her own thoughts and a generous second pour of Pinot Grigio wasn’t helping. Henry was away for the night at Violet’s house and Emma’s curiosity had gotten the better of her. 

Wine glass in one hand and laptop in the other, she settled onto the couch and started reading articles. They ranged from a think piece put out by Rolling Stone musing on the career longevity musicians had after a scandal to pure gossip about what had transpired in the last week that made the photographer drop the assault charges. The leading theory was a big-ass payoff, and Emma had her suspicions it was probably correct considering her name and face hadn’t been linked to the story. Not even once. Killian may have gotten his punches in but his checkbook had been the one to get his point across. 

She still couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t called her and with each passing day, and regret from not reaching out right away built up. Common sense said he was probably embarrassed over ending up in the clink. Overthinking and a bottle of Pinot told a different story. One of regret over the near hook-up on the boat or dipping a toe in the dating waters when there was a kid involved. Maybe she’d read Killian’s vibe with Henry all wrong. Hell, maybe she’d read Killian’s vibe with her all wrong and things were better this way. 

Head fuzzed with wine, Emma shoved the laptop aside and leaned forward to pick her phone up from the coffee table, the wide neck of her off-the-shoulder sweater gaping. Her hand automatically came up to preserve her modesty even though nobody else was home and, as she brushed against the skin of her upper chest and pulled the material up, a faint pull of arousal hit low in her belly at the memory of Killian’s fingers tracing the same spot. 

His fingers were nimble, the asshole.

The thought of texting him for a booty call flew out of her head as quickly as it had flown in. Even tipsy, she knew that shit was a bad idea. Plus, she didn’t think she could handle rejection of the direct variety. No, this passive-aggressive avoidance was about all she could hang with.

But…

**** 

 Fucking hell. 

He was pretty sure he’d said it out loud. He was pretty sure at the girl on his left with one hand so far up his thigh her pinkie was brushing his cock had heard him. He was certain, however, that he didn’t give a damn. 

The photo was stunning; all blonde curls, red lips, dipping collarbones and the soft swell of a breast just barely covered by what looked like a sweater. It was unlike anything she’d ever posted on Instagram and it took him by surprise just before it started to arouse him. He shifted abruptly as he felt himself start to thicken against his thigh, knocking the girl’s hand loose so she wouldn’t think she had anything to do with him becoming half hard. 

Killian hadn’t stopped thinking about Emma all week. In the most honest of moments, he was angry. Angry with himself for putting her and Henry in the position to be ambushed by paparazzi and thrown into his public fucked up life against their will. Angry with himself for not texting her. Angry with himself for being weak and wanting, for remembering how she looked coming on his fingers and jerking off in the shower until he spilled over his fist, steam swirling around with his final exhalation of breath, her name on his lips. 

And here she was. Taunting him. 

His thumb hovered over the little heart. Apparently, the bottle of British Royal Navy Imperial rum he’d downed since his publicist and a crisis management team called upon by his record label had arrived that morning and the current moment didn’t him quite enough liquid courage to press it. Instead, he started to trace the curve of her breast in the photo and stopped, erupting with a drunken, chortling laugh he cut short when those within earshot looked over at him. 

Feeling up a photograph. That was bordering on a level of desperation that made him cringe even in his rum-soaked state. 

“Ah, fuck it.” 

Press. 

The minute the heart turned red and his named joined Mary Margaret’s under the photo’s likes, he regretted it. What if it wasn’t for him? What if she was seeing someone else? Killian gripped his phone close to his face, glaring at the app, mentally daring anyone else with a dick to acknowledge the exquisite creature on his screen. The vibration from an incoming text message startled him and he stared in disbelief at the name on the screen. 

It was a single line that was all Swan. 

What the hell, Jones?  

So she had been taunting him. Waiting for him to react. Toying with him. 

Well, two could play at that game. 

Standing, Killian dialed her number and held the phone to his ear, thumb hooked in his belt loop as he leaned against the wall, his alcohol-heavy head lolling a bit. It barely rang before she answered and launched into a tirade.

“You didn’t even call to let me know there was trouble. Or to bail your ass out even though it’s my damn job. I haven’t heard from you in a week and I didn’t know if I should call or if I did something-“ her voice hitched like she was choking back a sob, “something wrong. Just…tell me what you want.”

This was exactly the shit he was trying to avoid. Things were so much easier when they were miles away from each other, both figuratively and literally. It was easier to send flowers and an occasional text, to be linked somehow but still keep her at arm’s length. To not invite her into his complicated life, a life he’d stopped trying to keep private because the fight to keep anything for himself was exhausting and a never-ending battle. But he’d slipped and hoped and ended up coaxing her out with him for a day. To do something she hadn’t wanted to do because she felt like she needed to protect her son and he’d pushed her anyway. And it had backfired. And if she didn’t hate him now, she would soon, so why not just help it along? 

“You’re the one who posted that photograph with one of your tits practically out. What do you think I want?” 

The gasp on her end of the line was a mix of shock and pure indignation. 

“Fuck you, Killian,” 

“Oh, no, darling. If we were in the same place right now, I assure you that I’d be fucking you.” Rum spurred on his tongue and he continued. “If you think I was satisfied with just a taste before I’m done with you, you’re mistaken. Why don’t you stop by? I think I can fit you into my schedule.” 

Emma laughed humorlessly, the precipice of hurt she was perched on just a moment before gone at his crude words. 

“And what? Line up with the rest of the Blowjob Brigade to entertain you before you get liquor dick and can’t keep it up anymore? I’ll pass.” 

“Oh, don’t be like that, love. I’d be happy to send most of them home and just keep one as a backup if it meant feeling you come on my cock.” 

“You’re a pig,” she seethed, and Killian cut the last thread holding them – and himself – together. 

“Yeah, well, you were more than willing to lay down and get dirty with me, sweetheart.” 

Click.  

Clenching his fist around his phone, Killian scrubbed his face with the other hand feeling his jaw flexing under his fingers. 

You stupid bastard.  

The sound of the phone shattering against the floor when he smashed it in a rage barely registered in the crowded room. Heart pounding, he stepped back to the couch, reaching for two of the three things he knew would quiet the chant inside his head. 

The woman he’d been sitting next to hadn’t moved and he plucked the rum bottle she was holding out of her hand and took a healthy swig, making eye contact with her when she looked up in surprise. 

“You look familiar.” It was a bald-faced lie but the suggestion he remembered them from somewhere worked every time, especially when he shifted on his feet and thrust his pelvis forward. The erection he’d been working toward a few minutes ago was gone but there was still plenty to entice without it. 

When her eyes dropped, he chuckled. They were all so easy. 

“I was here before. With my friend.” She looked around and pointed to a blonde coming out of the Glitter Room with white powder around her nose and a glassy look on her face, the sizeable bag of blow she’d swiped disappearing into her clutch. At first glance and through an intoxicated haze, the curls and red lipstick looked close enough and as she spotted them and came over, he saw her eyes were green. 

Reaching a gentlemanly hand out to the woman on the couch, he asked, “How would you and your friend like to go someplace more private?” It took half a second for her to slide her hand over his and Killian pulled her to her feet, gently pushing her in front of him. He walked her out of the room, his front pressed to her back, mouth fused to her neck and a hand snaking down the front of her dress while she snatched the bottle back with one hand and grabbed her friend with the other. 

She breathed her name along with her friend’s into his ear as he maneuvered them through the throngs of people, reaching back to snake a hand up around the back of his neck. Her pointy nails scratched through his hair hard enough to hurt and it took every ounce of self-restraint he had to tell her he didn’t give a fuck what their names were. 

He needed this. Just for a moment. Just long enough to push the ghost from his past back where she belonged.  

They broke apart at the bottom of the stairs he led the way up and down a hallway to the double doors Anton guarded. 

“No one comes in,” Killian ordered and ushered the girls into his bedroom. 

They pounced the moment the door closed, pushing him against the doors and falling to their knees. The dark-haired one – the one with the giant fake tits that felt like water balloons – went to work on his belt while the other one fumbled with his zipper, their drunken, high-pitched giggles grating over his nerves. From his vantage point, he could see the blonde was a cheap imitation of the woman he was using her to replace; the hair color from a bottle and the green eyes a product of contact lenses. His head swam with rum and regrets, and he decided he needed a moment to get his shit together. 

Batting their hands out of the way, he pushed past them and walked over to the small table in front of the window and gestured to the blonde still on her knees by the door. 

“Get the baggie out of your purse.”

The girls exchanged looks and Killian grew impatient. Maybe these two were a mistake. He snapped his fingers. 

“Look, I don’t give a damn that you took it. Just bring it over here or get the fuck out.” 

Apparently the threat of losing bragging rights after a night with Killian Jones was enough to kick her ass into gear. The baggie was produced along with a razor blade and a short straw. He dropped into one of the chairs and tore the rum bottle from the other girl’s hand and tipped it to his lips. The glug became a chug, his head tipped back and throat working as he drank. 

When he put the bottle down, it was an inch away from empty and the room was spinning. Running his fingers over his lips, he looked at the rows being expertly lined up and stood, swaying so much he had to brace himself on the window. 

Killian pressed himself against the one girl just as he’d done downstairs. It helped stabilize him and, since her heels were still on, had the added benefit of putting her ass at the perfect height to cradle his cock. He thrust into her lightly, savoring the floaty feeling the rum provided, and took her hand and brought it up to his mouth, slipping her index fingertip into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. 

Her breath hitched and he rewarded her responsiveness with a quick, filthy kiss as he guided her hand back down to the table top and dipped it into one of the lines before bringing it back up to his lips. 

The cocaine was bitter and familiar as it numbed his tongue. The blonde held out the straw and Killian took it without hesitation. 

He did two lines in quick succession and fell back into the chair. As he waited for the high to hit, his companions took turns with the straw, wiping the backs of their hands across their noses to wipe away any excess powder as they stood before him. 

Killian allowed them to pull him to his feet, four hands making quick work of his clothes as well as their own. One pushed him onto the bed and as a pair of lips closed around his cock, the coke high hit and he was flying, unsure if he was closer to heaven or hell. 

****

She was cried out after an hour. Exhausted. Depressingly sober. Alone. 

And mad as hell. 

Emma recognized a defensive move when she saw one: the lashing out. Granted, it was usually her move, but the perpetually walled off tend to recognize their own. 

Pacing in her living room, she weighed her options. Calling Killian back would be a waste of time if all he was going to do would be to drunkenly invite her to hop on his dick again. So she could either let it go or grab her keys, make the drive to his house and force him to look her in the eye while being an asshole that would probably still drunkenly invite her to hop on his dick. 

“Fuck!” 

The empty room echoed the epithet back to her and nothing else.

Cursing again, she headed to the bathroom and made quick work of wiping off the red lipstick and pulling her curls back into a stark ponytail. A quick change of clothes – the guys at Swan Bonds referred to the red leather jacket as Emma’s armor – and she was ready for a fight.

**** 

 Pinching the bridge of her nose, Emma tried to be polite to the veritable mountain of a man standing outside the door of Killian’s bedroom. 

“Please let me in, Anton.” 

A look of something akin to pity, or maybe understanding, flashed on his face before Anton moved to the center of the double doors and crossed his arms. 

“I’m sorry, Miss Swan. No one goes in. Captain’s orders.” His voice dropped. “Besides, you might not like what you see in there.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s the fucking point.” 

Emma sighed, her face scrunching with frustration. What Killian did behind closed and heavily guarded doors was his own damn business and she suddenly felt foolish driving all this way with the hope that he would be waiting for her so they could work out whatever shit had hit the fan between them. Instead, she walked into a rager, picking her way through the drunk, glassy-eyed throngs on both floors until she spotted Anton. 

Clenching her fists, Emma squeezed her eyes closed and when she opened them, she put a hand on Anton’s arm and offered him a tight-lipped smile. 

“I understand you have a job to do. I shouldn’t…it’s not my place to –“ 

Cut off by a muffled scream coming from the bedroom, Emma’s eyes met Anton’s and they both stood silent, listening intently. Another scream came, followed by shouts and Anton moved his ass into gear, punching a code into the keypad and nodding to Emma when the lock disengaged. 

She burst inside the room to find two women standing by the bed freaking the fuck out. They were both naked, babbling and letting out shrieks as they looked at a prone, nude figure sprawled out on the bed. 

Killian was on his back convulsing, a white foam pouring out of his mouth. Emma catapulted onto the bed and turned his head to the side so he wouldn’t choke and grabbed the arm of the closest girl. 

“What did he take? HEY! Quit screaming and tell me what the fuck he took!” The girl ignored her as she and her friend gathered their things and high tailed it out of the room. Emma’s eyes swept around the room, taking in the residue on the table by the window and a small mound of white powder on the nightstand that looked like it had been much larger at some point.

Cocaine. 

She cradled Killian’s head as Anton called 911 to report an overdose. Bending down, she whispered in his ear as his body shook uncontrollably. 

“Stay with me, Killian. Stay with me.”

[rum-and-shattered-dreams]

Heroism is Subjective - Chapter 2: The Deal

AO3 link See part one for full summary and notes Summary:   An infuriated Bill interrogates Ford about why there's a barrier trapping him in Gravity Falls. Ford's hopes sink as he discovers Bill has gained physical form and desperation pushes him toward making a deal with the demon. Warnings:   Restraints. Torture? Kind of? I guess? Maybe more like threats? Notes:  This is going to open up some questions. They'll all be answered in later chapters ;). Also, again, this angst-fest was conceived before the finale aired so I had no idea what really caused the barrier around town or if Ford would actually know what it was.Special thanks to @themadcapmathematician for letting me ramble about this and for helping me with the prelude.

August 2012 - Weirdmageddon

Slam!  The door to the fearamid's penthouse suite rattled against its frame in the aftermath of Bill's tantrum.  The demon's body burned fiery red, his fingers leaving a darkened, smoking blotch on the door's chestnut finish.  He massaged his closed eye with one hand, his gilded Stanford trophy clutched in the other as he floated toward a black marble fireplace, his form fading back to yellow in the flame's flickering glow.  Above the fireplace hung a portrait of himself housed in an ornate, gilded frame.  He floated before it, opened his eye, and stared at the regal representation of himself.  "This is just a minor setback," he assured himself, "No problem.  I got this.  I just need some time to think this through."

He set his trophy on a plush carpet depicting himself as a single eye at the center of a golden triangle and effortlessly shrank fifty feet in size.  As his stature decreased, so did the room surrounding him, the walls, furniture, doors, and even his portrait shrinking to accommodate his dimensions.  The only item unaffected was the statue of his former pawn, now standing about two feet taller than him.  Too bad, Bill thought.  I'd really rather make you into actual chess piece.  But I suppose it's for the best that I don't alter you too much... yet.  Seems I still need you in the life-sized game.

He poured a thick purple liquid suspending specks of glimmering light into a martini glass and swirled it about as he muttered to the golden statue standing beside him, "We're trapped in this backwoods hick town.  My human minions betrayed me and helped your dumb family escape...  Ha!  It's cute that they're still trying to stop me.  But You know what?  I have things under control.  It won't be long before I have that ungrateful widdle piglet, Gideon, captured.  As for your family, I'm sure they and their idiot friends will eventually come to me.  Probably to try to save you!"  He tipped the golden figure back and forth with one hand, "But right now, I think we need to talk."

With a wave of his hand, the gold lifted like steam from Ford's form, swirling and dissipating and fading out of existence altogether.

"I'll die before I join you!" Ford shouted, his hand rushing to his side to draw his blaster, fumbling for a moment before drawing a gun-shaped contraption with what looked like a light bulb stuffed into the end of the barrel.  The memory gun.  In his blind panic, he aimed it at the demon anyway and fired.  It wasn't like it mattered.  He already knew his blaster was of no use.  Worst case scenario, it would do nothing, just like every other weapon he and countless others before him had used in an attempt to erase the demon from existence.  Though his movements were swift, he wasn't surprised when he had to dive to the floor as the blue beam bounced off its target and streaked back toward him.

Bill laughed, a gut rattling, high-pitched and chilled chortle, and retorted, "Yeah yeah, so you said."  With a twitch of a single finger, the memory gun cracked and crumbled leaving little more than a pile of dust beneath his hands.  

Ford berated himself, cursing under his breath, for even entertaining the notion that any weapon aside from his quantum destabilizer might magically be the key to destroying the demon and living to tell the tale, for hesitating yet again to do what he knew he had to.  He lifted himself to his feet and took a step back, his eyes focused on the demon with a gaze of pure contempt and his hand reaching toward his side for-

Bill moved a single finger and Ford felt himself jerked backwards by a sudden searing pain encircling his neck, the sound of chain links rattling entirely too close to his ears.  He barely noticed Bill's hand move as again he tried to lift his own to claw at the burning ring around his neck.  Before his fingers could so much as brush against the glowing blue collar, his arms were forced down and back, wrists bound in matching rings of pain, chains clattering as he struggled against their pull, his heart feeling as if it had jumped to his throat, its triple-time beat strangled in the collar's grasp.  

"Human reactions are infinitely amusing!" Bill laughed, wrapping an arm across the brickwork of his middle, rolling in mid-air, the liquid in his glass defying gravity as much as he did.  "I know your mind, Stanford.  You hate that your instinct still makes you try even though you know nothing you're carrying can make a dent in me, don't you?"

Ford opened his mouth to comment, fully intending a flashy retort of how can you be so sure?  but as Bill rolled over, his eyes widened.  He hadn't noticed.  How could he have missed it?!  Bill's formerly flat, triangular silhouette had evolved an extra dimension.  The white hot rush surging through his muscles evaporated, leaving them weak and shaken, as the demon's pyramid shape settled into an upright position.

"I see you've noticed my new look.  I'm a little insulted that it took you this long.  But I should have expected it.  You've always been a little dense when it comes to noticing the obvious," he said, digging a finger into the tip of Ford's nose and flicking it.  

"You-"

"Yes, very good, Stanford.  I got a swanky new physical form!  Do you like it?"  Bill turned like a model on a runway, tipping his glass and posing as if cameras flashed around him.  Yet, every bit of the demon's flaunting and teasing was lost on his audience.  In a seemingly stubborn gesture, Ford's head hung low, not a single reaction parting his lips nor twitching so much as a finger.  Bill's fists clenched, nearly breaking the glass's stem, his demeanor fuming.  How dare he ignore me! Ford honestly didn't notice Bill's taunts.  How could he have?  His mind was too busy splitting apart in far too many fragments of panic and pain, fear and frustration.  Damn.  DAMN IT!  It will never work now unless...  The kids...  Oh no...  THE KIDS...!  Stanley...!  Pure terror numbed his limbs as he wondered where they were or if they were hurt.  He stared blankly at the carpet beneath his boots, the muddied toes blurring as reality wavered and waned around him, his turmoil hidden to his captor under the unintentional mask of defiance.  He can't kill them.  Not yet...  He still needs them alive.  They have to still be alive...  Wait...  Why am I still alive?  Why hasn't he...?

Bill's eye narrowed in annoyance at his pawn's unwillingness to cooperate.  A hint of red flickered across his body as he lifted a hand to retaliate, blue flames sparking around his fingers.

"What do you want from me, Bill?"  Ford muttered, halting the demon's tantrum.  

His color softened back to its usual yellow glow while his mind sorted his priorities back into place. His hand lowered as he stared at the glittering purple ripples in his glass.  "Look," he said, tipping the glass toward his prisoner, "we made a great team before.  I could set you free from all this," he continued, pointing at the chains, "and we can do it again.  Just imagine!  You and me, buddies again with the bonus of total domination over this dimension!"  A flourish of black fingers produced an image of Ford among the stars, looming over the galaxy.

Ford stared at the image, his mouth agape and his eyes widened in horror.  "Is that really what you think I want?"  He spat.  His eyes clenched shut, his head nestled between stiff shoulders, and turned away from the far too lifelike hologram of his own face twisted by a sadistic smile.  As thoughts settled into coherency in his mind, his shoulders relaxed and a light grin lifted the corners of his lips.  His eyes opened and he faced the demon with a look of exasperated disappointment and sighed, "Of course that's what you think.  It's all you understand.  You say you want a world free of rules but what you really want is one which adheres solely to yours!  What you really want are obedient minions who do your bidding without question, who will create a place where no one can defy you or your whims!  You could never understand what it is I want...  What I've always wanted.  I couldn't even understand it until mere days ago."

The disconcerting hologram faded and Ford could clearly see his captor tapping a finger below his eye, mocking the human motion of tapping one's chin in thought.  "Maybe I don't," he said in a drawl dripping with the upward inflection of a yet unspoken threat, "but I think I have enough of an idea of it to make you tell me what I need to know."

"So you do want something from me, then," he said with a huff, "I should have guessed that's the only reason I'm still alive."  His heart pounded as he struggled against the burning of his wrists and neck.  Still alive.  Yes I'm still alive.  I haven't failed yet.  I hope.  I hope these cuffs aren't damaging the- no.  They can't be.  If nothing else has caused damage, there's no reason to believe this will.  I just...  need to play along for a bit.  See what it is he needs...  "Get on with it then," he huffed, "What is it you need?  You already know my answer.  You already know I'll die before-"

"Yeah, yeah," he interrupted, rolling his eye and waving his hand, "I know you will.  But what about them?" With a swirl of his hand, he conjured an image of the kids and Stanley, wrestling on the floor of the Mystery Shack.  He lifted his drink to his eye, a part in its center opening with a grotesque slurp before he poured the contents of his glass between lips formed from his eyelids.  In a blink, his eye reappeared and he slammed the glass to the floor with his demand, "Now tell me!  Why can't I leave this intelligence forsaken town?!" "I don't know.  Why can't you?" Ford answered, feeling a little like Bill had started in the middle of a conversation, expecting him to understand what he was talking about.

"You know very well!"

"No!  Actually, I don't!  What are you talking about?" panic clawed at the edges of his voice as he watched the scene within Bill's hologram.  

"There's a barrier!"

"A barrier?"  The tenseness of his shoulders sagged as he replied with questions of his own, "Around Gravity Falls?  Fascinating..." his voice inflected upwards, his thoughts searching for the implications and possible causes of such a phenomenon.

"Don't play dumb with me, Fordsy!  You know all about this!"

"No.  I don't.  For once I honestly don't." his words surged forth while his mind raced. Did the kids find more unicorn hair?  Did Stanley figure out what to do?   He thought about the condition of his basement facility upon his return.  Books stacked upon books explaining physics, codes, and oddities in layman's terms.  Stanley had clearly spent years studying them alongside his journals. Between him and the kids, they must have done this to contain the threat!  Remarkable!

"You...  You know something.  I know that look.  You've got it figured out.  Tell me or I'll destroy them!"  Bill demanded, pointing to the image of Ford's family.

"You'll do nothing of the sorts," Ford said with a shrug, quelling his internal panic with rational thought.

"What?!" his yellow glow surged to firey red.

"I know you need them alive."

"Aren't you supposed to be a genius?  You already know why I don't need you anymore.  Turns out you have more in common with your new best friend than you thought," he manipulated the image with a wiggle of his fingers, bringing up a scene from the Mystery Shack's basement;  Dipper, rolling the dice during their week long game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons.  Ford's heart sank.

"I thought pine tree told you that I possessed him earlier this summer."

Ford swallowed the lump in his throat.

"In fact, my minions were supposed to have rid me of his pesky existence already but I suppose it's a good thing they failed.  I see it in your eyes.  You're scared for him."

"Leave him out of this...  Please.  I don't know anything."

"Remember I know you better than anyone.  I lived in your mind.  I know you know something!"  Dipper's joyful image flickered.  Ford's eyes slammed shut at the horror which replaced it.

"Human emotions are such ridiculous things, aren't they?  Illogical and demanding, it seems.  But hey, it's apparently a pretty useful little quirk for me.  Ha, that makes me think...  For you humans, there are far worse things than death, aren't there?" He pondered for a moment and swished his hand through the horror story he'd created, replacing it with yet another image;  Stan watching TV from his chair.  Mabel sat on the arm, so engrossed in the flickering glow that she didn't notice her chip bag spilling across Stan's lap, and Dipper perched on the dinosaur skull beside, leaning forward in anticipation.

Before the image could shift to whatever terrors Bill had in mind, Ford surrendered through gritted teeth, "Alright!  Stop!  I'll make a deal. I'll tell you what I think caused the barrier but you leave my family alone!"

"Fine," Bill agreed.  With a dismissive waggle of one finger, the cuffs binding Ford's hands dissipated like vapor.  He held out one hand,  his nasally high pitch suggesting, "Shake on it?"

With his head down and heart pounding, Ford clarified his terms, "You leave my family alone.  You assure me they will be safe and protected.  And you release me."  He extended his hand.  Buy time.  Just buy some time and there might still be a chance...

"Agreed to your family but It would be pretty dumb of me to let you go before finding out if what you're about to tell me is actually useful.  So no.  I won't be releasing you.  But I will promise that my henchmaniacs and I will leave your family alone.  Agreed?"

"Fine," Ford spat, cursing internally at the limitations of the deal.  I'll just have to find a way to escape, in that case...  He lifted his head, squared his shoulders and held out his hand.  

Blue flames engulfed their handshake, sealing the deal.  With some residual reluctance, he explained his theory; that someone must have used unicorn hair, mercury, and moon stones to create the barrier around the town.  He'd barely finished speaking when Bill floated out of the room, calling to his henchmaniacs for their aid in finding a way to lower the barrier.  

Ford collapsed to his knees, exhausted but brimming with dread as he reached for his left sweater cuff.  He closed his eyes for a moment as if sending a silent prayer out to any god who might listen, opened his eyes and tugged his sleeve halfway up his arm.  He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, relief washing over him at the sight of rings of tattoos unmarred by the burning cuffs surrounding his wrists moments ago.  Not a single burn, cut, or flaw appeared in the iridescent sepia symbols.  "Thank every god from every dimension in existence," he breathed.  Now I just need to find a way to get out of here and get back to the kids and the others. He may have gained physical form but I'm not giving up yet.  Not when there might still be a way.  

He leaned back, the chain attached to his collar stretching to its limit, barely allowing him to sit cross-legged on the floor.  He raked his fingers through his hair, shame burning his cheeks in the aftermath of surrender,  yet, he allowed himself a shred of pride in his good fortune that Bill had only asked the cause of the barrier, not how to break it.  It will buy some time.  But how much?

[randomrichards]

MOVIES (THAT MIGHT BE) WORTH CHECKING OUT IN JANUARY 2020:

January 3:

THE GRUDGE

We begin with an attempted reboot of the hit horror flick based on another hit horror film.

Based on the Japanese import Ju-On, the film centres around a curse born from a fit of anger that attacks anyone who dares to enter a house. The pale boy ghost and the contorted woman became instantly iconic, especially when they made that crackling sound. Of course, people in North America are more likely to recognize its remake The Grudge. While not on the same level as its predecessor, the American was still a hit. It has become so iconic that there was a crossover movie where it faces off against the ghost from Ringu.

This time, the target is Peter Spencer (John Cho), a real estate agent who intended to sell a house not realizing it contained the title curse. Believing a homicide occurred, Spencer calls on Detective Muldoon (Andrea Risborough) to investigate. But they fail to realize the curse inside dooms all who enter it with a violent and it’s coming for them.

Here’s another of a long list of Horror remakes Hollywood has been peddling in the last decade. For every good one (It, Child’s Play), there are three times as many failures (the recent ones being Pet Semetary and Black Christmas). I’m not having much hope for this one. It can still be good, but it needs a director with as creative a vision as Takashi Shimizu’s.

THREE CHRISTS

Based on The Three Christs of Ypsilanti by Milton Rokeach, Three Christs tells the real-life experiment involving three men who claim to be a certain savior.

In Michigan’s Ypsilanti State Hospital in 1959, Dr. Alan Stone (Richard Gere) conducts a revolutionary experiment where he brings together three men (Peter Dinklage, Walton Goggins and Bradley Whitford) who each claim to be Jesus Christ. He hopes to use this experiment to force them to confront their delusions. It would certainly be preferable to electroshock therapy.

A real-life story like this comes with a lot of potential. But with the director of Fried Green Tomatoes helming this project, it looks like this will be a typical biopic. This is a shame with 4 great actors working together.

January 10:

1917

Sam Mendes, the director of American Beauty and Skyfall, takes us back to World War One and hopes to enter the Oscar Race with his latest war movie 1917.

Generla Erinmore (Colin Firth) tasks young British soldiers Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman) and Schofield (George MacKay) with a difficult mission. 1,600 of their fellow soldiers are heading into a fatal trap and the two soldiers must deliver a message calling off the raid before tomorrow morning. And one of them is Blake’s brother. Racing against time, Blake and Schofield are forced to rush through enemy territory to deliver the message on time. Benedict Cumberbatch also

The film is already garnering high praise for its gripping suspense and graceful camera. It’s already garnering nominations at the Golden Globe Awards for Best Dramatic Motion Picture, Best Director and Best Original Score. It’s especially getting praise is how it makes the film look like one long camera shot following the two leads through their mission.

CHHAPAAK

All the way from India is a film inspired by real life acid attack survivor Laxmi Agarwal.

This film looks at Malti (Deepika Padukone), a woman horribly scared after an acid attack. The film follows her through her physical treatment and eventual trial. It looks like the core of the film will be her journey of emotional healing, regaining her self-worth with the help of loved ones.

Unless you know films that show Bollywood movies, I suspect this film will be hard to find for many people. Kind of a shame

JUST MERCY

Writer/Director Destin Daniel Cretton (Short Term 12) brings ups the real-life story of a lawyer who battled systemic racism to free an innocent man.

Harvard graduate Bryan Stevenson (Michael B. Jordan) heads to 1980s Alabama to assist advocate Eva Ansley (Brie Larson) to defend those wrongfully convicted. His first and most important case is Walter McMillian (Jamie Foxx), who was sentenced to death for the notorious murder of an 18-year-old girl despite evidence proving his innocence including a group of people who could vouch for him.

As Stevenson works prove McMillian’s innocence and those of other death row inmates, he faces up against an uncaring political maneuvers and systemic racism.  But neither he nor Ansley will let this stop them.

Audiences love and underdog story and this one is sure to satisfy, especially with Jordan, Larson and Foxx starring in the film. It’s also sure to offer some catharsis for those frustrated with current systemic racism. But this could by a typical biopic forgotten by the end of the year.

January 17:

BAD BOYS FOR LIFE

I’m going to be brief because I don’t think we’re going to get anything special from this movie. This film is pretty much a checkmark of every plot element you see in every Buddy Cop movie. Cop considering retiring. Check. One last job? Check. Training arrogant young upstarts? Check. A forever disapproving superior throwing a tantrum of our heroes. Check. It doesn’t matter how flashy the trailer is, a cliché is a cliché.

But then again, the original two film were also piling of buddy cop clichés. The only thing they had going for them was Will Smith’s charisma and Martin Lawrence’s over the top delivery. Only the second movie was memorable thanks to some well shot, over the top action scenes. But I highly doubt this one will be memorable when Michael Bay has backed out of the film.

We don’t really need another Bad Boys movie, especially when we have the Fast and Furious series and the John Wick movies.

DOLITTLE

The famous physician who can talk to animals returns in a new reboot. This time the Doc is played by Robert Downey Jr, fresh from retiring his iconic role of Tony Stark after 10 years. It also looks like it will be going back to its roots as a fantasy story set in the Victorian era. There’s not much plot summary to go on, but judging by the trailer, it will have him setting sail on an adventure alongside his animal friends. At the core of the film seems to be his friendship with two kills. Also, among the cast are Jessie Buckley as Queen Victoria and Antonio Banderas as a pirate.

There is an all-star cast voicing the animals, including Tom Holland, Emma Thompson, Ralph Fiennes and Rami Malek just to name a few.

This film seems to rest its shoulders on Robert Downey Jr, hoping his charm will do for Dr. Doolittle what he did for the Marvel Cinematic Universe. But the film lives and dies on writer/director Stephen Gaghan, who is an unusual choice for a family fantasy considering that his resume consists of gritty war movies like Syriana, Traffic and Rules Engagement and crime drama tv shows like The Practice and NYPD Blue. He’s even written for the video game Call of Duty: Ghosts. It’s strange that someone with this resume would be chosen to reboot this franchise. It’s especially risky considering the original attempts to adapt Hugh Lofting books for the big screen. But if Martin Scorsese can make Hugo, there’s a chance Gaghan can make Dolittle work

The first one was a musical that tried to bank on the Sound of Music’s success but was an epic flop. It didn’t help that lead actor Rex Harrison was a notoriously difficult drunk who couldn’t sing. In fact, his behind the scenes shenanigans were way more interesting than the actual movie as proved by Mark Harris’ non-fiction book Pictures at a Revolution. Decades later, 20th Century Fox reboots the franchise was a hit thanks to Eddie Murphy as the title character and a variety of comedic voice actors (especially Albert Brooks, Chris Rock and Norm McDonald) voices the animals. No matter the quality, there’s a weight of nostalgia for both movies with many people growing up with these movies. This film will face the challenge of pushing past the nostalgia.

WEATHERING WITH YOU

From beloved anime writer/director Makoto Shinkai comes another romantic fantasy about two teens.

Teenage boy Hodoka (voiced by Kotaro Daigo) runs away from his isolated island home for Tokyo. Homeless and desperate, Hodoka takes a job as an assistant for journalist Keisuke Suga (Sun Oguri). His job involves finding “The Sunshine Girl”, a local teen girl who can control the weather. He soon finds her in Hina Amano (Nana Mori), a cheerful teen girl living with her brother. He is in awe with her power when she freezes the rain and love soon sparks. But messing with nature comes with a price and soon Hodoka and Hina are fighting to stay together.

Of all the movies on this list, this is the one I’m most excited to see. Once I saw his recent his Your Name, I was in pure awe. Never has a sunset looked more beautiful than in Shinkai’s anime. Every environment in Shinkai’s films enchant you with their vibrant colours and stunning details. Just as beautiful are his fantastical stories of young people growing up. At the core of each story is teens in love kept apart by unusual circumstances, whether it’s distance or time or even being in each other ‘s bodies.

This film’s already a major hit in Japan, which is very encouraging for anime fans.

January 24:

COLOR OUT OF SPACE

And now for something a little weird.

Nathan Gardner (Nicholas Cage) has moved his family to a remote farm to escape city life and live a life of peace and quiet. Then God was like “LOL No!” and sends an asteroid down their way. Then weird shit starts happening, most with colours mutating everything.

With a crew like this, you know you’re getting into some crazy shit. First, the film is based on a short story by H.P. Lovecraft, the inventor of cosmic horror and the man who gave us Cthulhu. Then there’s co-writer/director Richard Stanley, known for his odd genre flicks including Hardware and Dust Devil.[i] And then there’s Nicholas Cage, whose as well known for his scenery chewing Kabuki acting as his acclaimed Oscar-nominated roles. Last year, writer/director Panos Cosmatos found perfect use of Cage’s Kabuki acting in the ultra-stylized revenge masterpiece Mandy. Let’s be honest, the only types of films Cage’s Kabuki acting can work are either stylized, unintentionally hilarious or tongue-in-cheek. With the producers of Mandy working on this film, there’s high hopes it will be deliver on the stylized goods.

THE GENTLEMEN

After remaking Aladdin (and making lots of money in the process), director/writer Guy Ritchie returns to his roots with his latest English crime comedy The Gentlemen.

From what I can gather, the films about an American Pot Dealer (Matthew McConaughey) who plans to sell off his Empire in London when a young gang led by Dry Eye (Henry Golding) starts a drug war. There’s not much plot to go on, but with a Guy Ritchie movie, the plot will be way too complicated to explain. What is guaranteed is that there will be lots of oddball gangsters with weird names, hilarious and gruesome deaths and shit blowing up.

The film features an all-star cast including Charlie Hunnam, Colin Farrell and Hugh Grant continuing his streak of getting his groove back by playing against type.

So far, Ritchie hasn’t made a film that’s reached the same level as Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels or Snatch. For the most part, he has been unsuccessful stepping out of his comfort zone. Here’s hoping The Gentleman will bring his back on his A Game.

THE TURNING

This day concludes with a modern take of Henry James’ classic novella The Turn of the Screw.

Kate (Mackenzie Davis) is hired as a governess for care for her boss’s orphaned niece Flora (Brooklyn Prince) and nephew Miles (Finn Wolfhard). But as she cares for them in a secluded mansion, she comes to realize they are being haunted by hostile spirits. Can she protect them for what lies in the mansion?

The film has been remade multiple times, with the most acclaimed one being the 1961 classic The Innocents. This once changes it up by setting it in current times, with a notable scene of Miles creeping Kate out with drums. The film also gives some Conjuring vibes, especially with its cinematography. But it should be noted that similarity doesn’t equal copying and there could be some unique elements in this film.

There certainly is a good chance with director Floria Sigismondi will offer a unique vision. She has already directed episodes of stylized shows like The Handmaid’s Tale, Daredevil and American Gods, but she’s already well known for her stylized directing from her work in music videos. Since Marilyn Manson’s “The Beautiful People”, dilating, jittery camera work has become her trademark, working alongside artists including David Bowie, Bjork, Christina Aguilera, Katy Perry and Justin Timberlake (just to name a few).

January 27:

BEANPOLE

Here’s the film Russia hopes will be nominated for Best Foreign Language film.

Set in Leningrad in 1945, Beanpole centres on Masha (Vasilisa Perelygina) and Iya (Viktoria Miroshnichenko) struggling to trying to rebuild their lives in the ruins of a city demolished by war. At the core of film is the infertile Masha hiring Iya as a surrogate mother.

There’s not much go on, but with the film winning Best Director at the Cannes Film Festival, there’s good prospects for this film. It seems to be a character drama like Roma. Here’s hoping this film’s as quietly engaging as Alfonso Cuaron’s masterpiece.

January 31

THE TRAITOR

We conclude this with an Italian biopic about Tommaso Buscetta, the first Mafia Informant in 1980’s Sicily.

Tommaso (Pierfrancesco Favino) was a member of the Cosa Nostra. Then in 1983, half of his family is killed in a gang war. Now he intends to make them pay using the arm of the law. He knows the mob will do whatever it takes to stop him, but he’s more determined than ever. But as the trials continue, Tommaso will show the rabbit hole goes deeper than the law expected with political figures in the mafia’s pockets.

This is another film that may fall by the wayside, which is a shame because this film seems like a great biopic. It could certainly give overdue attention for director/co-writer Marco Bellocchio, who has remained a criminally overlooked director despite making acclaimed movies since the 1960s.

[i] And being fired from the Brando version of Island of Dr. Monroe.

[operationrainfall]

CONTRA: ROGUE CORPS is one of those games that people love to hate. And I’m not saying everybody is wrong that’s reviewed it so far, nor am I saying I necessarily know better. What I am saying is that whenever I see something which the aggregate tells me is irrevocably horrible, I tend to want to disprove the consensus. Or at least offer an alternate viewpoint. After all, I’ve actually been excited for CONTRA: ROGUE CORPS since I saw the surprising trailer unveiled way back at E3 2019. I may have been the only journalist woohooing and raising my fist in appreciation, and for a simple reason – I’m a fan of the CONTRA series. Yes, it’s generally hard as nails and beyond brutal, but it’s one of those series I grew up playing. Sure it’s not very intellectually stimulating or terribly deep, but sometimes you just need an excuse to blow away alien scum. So seeing as how I finally started playing my preorder copy of the game, let’s see if it scratched that violent itch.

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First things first, I will concede that ROGUE CORPS is a messy title. Not just visually, but in terms of the precision of how the game and its systems work. I’m not saying that to be cruel, but sadly it’s just a fact. Having said that, I still found myself enjoying the basic loop of the gameplay. Picking a character, going through missions, beating bosses, getting rewarded with items, then using said items to upgrade my character. Now if you’re an old fan of the series, most of that probably stood out to you. Usually you don’t have progressive upgrades in CONTRA games, you just fight from level to level. And while I respect developer Toylogic for being ambitious and taking chances with the title, I couldn’t help but come to a conclusion as I played – ROGUE CORPS isn’t truly a CONTRA game. Again, not a slight, just a fact. In a way, ROGUE CORPS is a mishmash of various games wearing a CONTRA suit. In many ways, it reminded me of a mix of Gauntlet, Smash TV and DOOM. Which in a way isn’t that surprising after I researched other projects developed by Toylogic. One that particularly stood out was Kid Icarus: Uprising. That’s another great example of using the window dressing of the series, but totally reinventing how it sounds and plays. And much like Kid Icarus: Uprising, ROGUE CORPS fires many shots that miss the mark, as well as some that hit dead center.

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The game starts with a surprisingly epic introduction, illustrated in a comic book style. It tries to encapsulate the entire history of the CONTRA games, showing how the aliens invaded and were beaten back. Or so we thought. Turns out, they left a present deep in the Earth’s core, and it suddenly erupts into a living nightmare called Damned City. This twisted location is so dangerous that most humans go mad just stepping foot there, and that serves as the excuse for our eclectic team of heroes, the titular ROGUE CORPS (or I guess technically Jaegers, according to the intro). Whatever their name, this fearsome foursome is the strangest band of heroes found in any CONTRA game. There’s team leader Kaiser, who looks like the cybernetic caveman ancestor of Bill Rizer. Then there’s Ms. Harakiri, who somehow got fused with an alien parasite that she stabs to gain temporary power boosts. Then there’s Gentleman, a hideous insectoid alien that is apparently on the side of the angels. And then there’s my favorite, Hungry Beast (HB for short), a giant mecha panda with a scientist’s brain in his noggin. Though you’d be hard pressed to call the heroes from other CONTRA games normal, this bunch makes them look boring by comparison. Oh and there’s one more character named Lily, she’s your pilot as well as the narrator of the story.

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Now, as I said earlier, the basic gameplay is fine, with some provisos. It plays like a twin-stick shooter in a quasi 3D environment. I’m used to CONTRA being a 2D platformer, so this was a bit of a learning curve, but thankfully my recent addiction to the twin-stick genre helped my immersion. As you run around blasting hordes of foes, you have a couple things that help. One are the special skills unique to each character, which can be activated at any time, and then have to cool down before using again. Kaiser’s skill adds spreadshot bullets to his attacks, Harakiri gets stronger, Gentleman throws black holes that scoop up small foes and HB lays down several turrets which both shoot foes and deflect bullets. I like that amount of diversity, and it goes a long way to making the game feel fresh. Each character plays a little differently, dictated both by their size and movement speed as well as their primary and secondary weapons. I much preferred Kaiser and HB, since their machine guns pushed back foes, while Gentleman and Harakiri fired a laser that cut through enemies, but didn’t repel them.

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I also appreciate how whenever you use a missile attack to clear the screen, the animation changes depending on your character. Kaiser rides the missile like in Dr. Strangelove, for example. Then there’s also Finishing Moves, which can only be used against nigh unkillable gold enemies. To stop them, you have to shoot and dodge attacks to dizzy them, then get close and press A to watch the blood flow. These are spectacularly violent sequences, and I only have two issues with them. First, enemies don’t stop moving just cause you’re murdering one of their buddies, and crowd up close and personal. This means you have to immediately dodge away once the sequence is over. The other problem is sometimes the animation doesn’t play properly, and instead you just see your character pose slightly before the attack activates.

More Rogue Action on Page 2 ->

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Besides all that flashiness, you’re much more maneuverable in ROGUE CORPS. Not only can you run around and jump, you can also dodge foes, avoiding damage. The dodge can also be used aggressively to knock foes off balance and dizzy them, as I said earlier. My problem with this mechanic is that once you’ve dizzied a foe, you can pick them up, but there’s usually no reason to. If there’s a handy meat grinder around, toss an enemy in, but it’s not satisfying or effective to toss foes into each other or against walls. There are also sequences called Shooting Galleries, where the camera pans to quasi FPS and you aim your sight with the right stick. While these have the benefit of more clearly displaying the action, they also are cumbersome and frustrating. And they don’t just occur when you’re facing stationary turrets and foes, but in boss fights as well. In fact, the first massive boss fight against an angry metal skeleton, which is teased at the end of the demo, is fought in Shooting Gallery mode. I struggled and struggled with him, doing minimal damage, until I realized I could move forward while in that mode, and once up close and personal, I started to do massive damage. Problem is, it’s not intuitive that you’d be able to move forwards and backwards in a mode that normally forces you to a horizontal plane.

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When boss fights don’t involve that mode, I tended to enjoy them more. Sure they are time consuming and more than a bit grindy, often involving waves of lesser foes distracting you as the boss rampages around, but they still were a fun challenge overall. And while it’s true they do overuse the first boss a lot, since he shows up later as a recurring mini boss and even in a upgraded form, there’s some very distinct boss designs here. I loved the giant metal skeleton’s design, as well as the fiery chariot boss. Hell, even the recurring boss is a neat design, looking like some bloated Toxic Revenger. My biggest issue isn’t that the game is ugly, but that the camera angles and magnification often made it hard to make out the visual niceties. Compounding that issue is that the most common grunt in the game, a sort of red fleshy skeleton, is completely generic looking. Which is frustrating, since some of the others are great, like the flying baby heads, the giant mouths that burst from concrete and even the roller skating buzz saw bastards. It’s also frustrating because in general, the CONTRA series is known for fantastic enemy design, be they robotic terrors or organic nightmares.

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I liked the idea of weapon and character customization in theory, but in practice it proved more than a little confusing. This is in part because even the game’s internal guides don’t do a great job of explaining what’s required. An example is that whenever you work on an upgrade, it requires not just items to dictate the properties, but curiously also requires a sufficient number of them. This is compounded by referring to these items as B.A.D. (an acronym I don’t recall the game explaining). It’s very confusing, and I still can’t say I fully understand the system several hours in. However, it’s still fun to experiment, and I strongly recommend you use this system. Not only can it make your guns more powerful, it can add new effects such as an increased critical chance or inflicting status ailments. Best of all is you can make it so your weapons fire longer without overheating, and I strongly suggest you invest in that feature. Other than customizing your weapons, you can also put your character in the surgery room and upgrade their body parts. This is pretty similar to weapon customization, other than offering different doctors. Each one has different potential chances to either improve or tweak your stats, and most of them cost cold hard cash. For that reason alone, I mostly stuck with the one doctor that was free, but feel it’s probably best to bite the bullet and risk using one of the others.

Sadly there are some typos in the game as well.

Now, I’ve been trying to help showcase the positive aspects of ROGUE CORPS, but I need to spend some time with the messy bits. While I can look past muddy visual effects and grindy mechanics, I can’t ignore the following. One particularly offensive problem is the pause menu. Quite simply, pausing the game doesn’t stop the action. I noticed the enemies kept moving afterwards, and I am pretty sure I’ve taken damage as a result. I understand the missions have time limits, and maybe the developers want to encourage you to watch the clock, but in my mind, pausing means everything has stopped. Taking cheap shots when I’m taking a break is problematic in the extreme. Another problem deals with the aforementioned camera angles. Often these will not properly display everything happening, and more than once an enemy was hidden by the camera angle. I only noticed cause their health bar was visible. I also was annoyed that often the various planes of the battlefield would trap foes in odd places. Considering the game usually gates you in areas until you beat all the enemies, this wasn’t helpful. It was also difficult that sometimes the controls were less precise than I would like. Often I would aim with the right stick and the moment I let go, the gun orientation would shift. And while I did enjoy the boss fights in the game, I almost wish the mega boss fights were structured differently. I would have preferred if ROGUE CORPS took a page from Mechstermination Force, which ironically is based loosely on the earlier CONTRA games. Having large foes that I took down in distinct phases, whittling away their armor and causing new threats to surface, would have been much better than the Shooting Gallery approach. Yes, it shows the bosses better than the standard camera angle, but I just wish the combat was consistently the twin-stick format.

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In the end, I still enjoyed CONTRA: ROGUE CORPS. Yes, it’s a hot mess, and many things aren’t properly explained for my tastes, but the core mechanics are fun and work pretty well. Which makes it more of a shame this title was so poorly received. I admire Konami and Toylogic for taking a chance on something different here, even if it didn’t work out perfectly. As a fan of the CONTRA series, I still don’t feel ROGUE CORPS was a traditional experience, but also think it has something to offer fans. Now that playing it has put me in the proper frame of mind, I think I’ll finally start playing my copy of CONTRA Anniversary Collection.

Too funny not to use.

OPINION: ROGUE CORPS is Fun, Despite its Quirks CONTRA: ROGUE CORPS is one of those games that people love to hate. And I'm not saying everybody is wrong that's reviewed it so far, nor am I saying I necessarily know better.

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New Post has been published on https://pagedesignpro.com/travel-and-stay-safe-in-dangerous-countries-or-areas-in-the-world/

Travel and Stay Safe in Dangerous Countries Or Areas in The World

Here are some of my tips from being an experienced world traveler. I’ve been in some of the more relatively ‘dangerous’ parts of the world; Indonesia, Colombia, Brasil.

My tips here are geared more towards men. The main thing is to actually ‘know you belong’. You don’t want to stand out like a ‘tourist’. The energy you project is one of the most important things.

If you have a strong, self-assured, independent, ‘minding your own business vibe’ like I always carry, you are FAR less likely to be seen as a potential victim of mugging or drama. Even a bit of ‘don’t mess with me – stay away’ vibe can work to your advantage as well.

Another thing is to stay away from obviously dangerous areas like really poor areas, favelas or barrios unless you’re with a group (and in daylight). You don’t want to really ‘stand out’ either. Because I look so international, I guess that often works to my advantage to blend in.

I could actually pass as South American in many parts (and have) but if you are pasty white and really stand out, you may really have to be more conscious of things, not to look like a super-tourist gringo. It really helps to know some of the languages to get around anyways and look like you belong. Give people respect and don’t try to attract trouble.

It’s not best to wear flashy jewelry and the like when you’re going out at night in some cities.

Talk with assurance to any cab drivers and know where you’re headed. In some countries where they are more forthcoming and aggressive you almost want to ‘match’ that vibe in communicating with them – you don’t want anyone mistaking you for a ‘weak’ tourist that they can prey upon but that you know how to handle yourself and know the area (or assuredly expect them to do their job).

In Indonesia, I read ahead of time and avoided the freelance cabbies. Stick with the government or city regulated cabs whenever possible. Try and memorize or be conscious of the cab number and have it look like you are taking account of it.

Keep your belongings or any valuables DISCREET and out of sight. I like using more plain and unassuming luggage.

People recommend to travel with a buddy but I don’t always do that. I’ve walked along Avenida Atlantica in Rio de Janeiro several times alone without any issue. A physical presence and awareness can really help you out.

If you appear like a victim or are ‘afraid’ to be in certain areas, that is going to come across and you’re going to stand out more as a potential victim. Take some self-defense classes and work on your physical energy.

I have avoided a lot of trouble by not looking for trouble but also in being more strong and direct in communicating with people I’m not sure about or who seem kind of sketchy.

Some people just ‘attract trouble’. You don’t want to be that guy. There were some guys in the Army who just always attracted trouble or who would have trigger hair tempers. Negative energy can attract other troublesome people.

There are guys that will keep attracting trouble. Instead, you want that, self-confident ‘staying out of other people’s business’ vibe.

This has got me through Indonesia, Brasil and other areas which ARE dangerous at the wrong time and place. My military background has helped with the confidence part. People ask if I’m ever afraid to travel certain places and my answer is ‘no’. Dogs sense fear. I’m going to stay independent and powerful, minding my own business and respecting other’s spaces.

A best friend was fighting the war in Iraq and that was far more dangerous than traveling semi-incognito as a civilian in Indonesia.

So do your best not to attract trouble, being boisterous or arousing suspicion. Be sensible and mindful at all times. If you’ve been able to lead an argument or get your point across, that should come across when dealing with certain types of people, but only use it in a preventative manner (ie. A cabbie who might be trying to rip you off).

Again, it’s recommended to travel with discreet luggage. Use luggage locks and ALWAYS carry a laptop wire lock if you use a laptop…out of sight out of mind. Even in hostels or hotel rooms, I’m locking my laptop up – not out of fear but just as a proactive safety measure.

On a Colombian overnight bus, I just kept the carry-on bag underneath me latched around my legs and made sure no one could access it from behind. It’s just about being mindful and having a ‘presence’ over your stuff will avoid most trouble. Always keep your bag with you.

It’s kind of untested because it’s all preventative but looking other alpha male’s in the eye shortly out of respect yet independent strength (if they’re looking at you) and giving a faint nod while going back to your own space can be ok.

As long as your energy is strong that YOU don’t steal and you have good karmic energy, you should be fine most of the time. I never steal and I even returned a wallet by biking across Madison just to get it back to her..that has helped me out.

There are laptop thieves in some countries who will come by on bikes or grab things real fast so don’t be holding things out in the open. Watch your camera around you if you’re using it. Watch out for open beer bottles. In some places, they can ‘put something’ like a pill into your drink. This happened to me once but I was still fine because my hotel was close and I just fell asleep fast.

Get a local map and have an idea where you are. Generally, it’s not smart at all to be walking around at night in sketchy areas. If so, do it with forwarding confidence and look like you know where you’re going. If you see potential trouble down a certain side street even if it’s on your route, avoid it. Stay in well-lit, public areas whenever possible.

When some over-talkative Indonesian man on a bus wanted my U.S. address to ‘send me things’ I politely yet confidently refused. I was the first American many of those people ever had seen in Pacitan, Indonesia. Know some locals if at all possible. I had a tour guide with Plan International who was a local and informed me of some of the local advice.

You may find lower class people who want to help you out with directions with the expectation of something in exchange. This exists in the U.S. in places as well. Be forward and confident with them so as things don’t go too far. I usually politely yet confidently refuse. If they follow you and give you good advice, then give them something fair but modest in exchange and then wave them off as you confidently move on.

It’s better to ask for directions from more legitimate places like stores or uniformed officers.

When I was searching for apartments in Rodadero, there were some sketchy Peli Grosso guys who wanted to help me out. My main thing was that I didn’t want to keep being pestered by them the whole month I was going to live there, so I looked at some apartments and it was really my assertiveness in knowing what I liked and what I didn’t like and just how I dealt with them.

After I booked something I was also ‘in’ with the owner of the hotel where I rented a room for a month who also had ‘clout’ in that area – and they had a secure ‘buzz in’ gate. I was sure to get something ‘secure’ anyway for peace of mind and it was on the 14th floor.

After I came back down, I knew they wanted something in return (or things could get really pressured) so I had them order some soda’s and bread and I just paid for everything. That was absolutely fair anyways and I’m all about an exchange of value.

They wanted to pressure me into other things later but I said “not interested…I’m fine thanks” and kept walking towards my destination. Eventually, they got the idea. True confidence is the best prevention. Try to blend in and be like a local…know your way around.

In certain countries, don’t carry your wallet in your front OR back pockets..instead use a travel pouch* underneath your clothing to secure the basics. I started relaxing and thought I was fine because generally people don’t mess with me but in Las Ramblas, there were 2 incidents.

One where a group of ugly yahoo’s came up touching me and they had lifted my wallet until I started creating some strong drama as a friend said to ‘check my pockets’ and they had left it on the ledge. I leveraged getting the police over here which is something you can use in their language and be REALLY ASSERTIVE in a situation like that.

I can bring the heat and create some big drama. Doing this with congruency can be really effective in some cases.

Another time, we were out late and I didn’t even know it had been lifted…there are real pro’s at pick-pocketing who work around Las Ramblas in Barcelona and they stole my wallet without me even noticing for 2 hours (AND my back pocket was a tight fit). Because of good karma, I later got the wallet returned via Facebook (another story and it was all there except they took the cash).

If you have a room safe, use it. I usually only carry 1 or 2 good ATM cards on me and SOME local currency – not a whole lot.

REALLY be protective if you’re going to Barcelona..everyone has a story or knows someone who has things stolen. I had to lend cash to a friend who had 500 Euro stolen which he had withdrawn because of a scheme involving a woman and her lifting partner.

So anyways, there’s some practical and experienced advice for ‘staying safe’ in some of the more sketchy areas of the world. Try and room in a higher class part of town if at all possible or near a tourist district. I love Brasil and other places so I have a really positive yet still independent vibe about things when I’m going around alone. Having a real respect for the culture helps as well. It’s just riskier in some places of certain areas or cities so this is a lot of preventative stuff.

Research ahead online to see what kind of crime there is…often it’s just petty theft or muggings. When someone broke into a neighbor’s apartment late at night (I stay up late) I came out with a very loud aggressive voice as they were scuffling and then that helped him to take off.

From that point, I kept a frying pan (and NOT afraid to use it and I enjoyed visualizing how I would use it with physical energy) right near the glass window and door so that they could get an idea of what would be in store for them.

If you’ve got a Marine sticker that can work as well as a deterrent. Oh and if you go to a country with a civil war (or like that outbreak in BKK), stay away from the fighting as best you can. I was there during riots, and you just stay away..it’s not all as bad ‘everywhere’ like the news makes it seem.

[beingmad2017-blog]

Travel and Stay Safe in Dangerous Countries Or Areas in The World

New Post has been published on https://beingmad.org/traveling-and-staying-safe-in-dangerous-countries-or-areas/

Travel and Stay Safe in Dangerous Countries Or Areas in The World

Here are some of my tips from being an experienced world traveler. I’ve been in some of the more relatively ‘dangerous’ parts of the world; Indonesia, Colombia, Brasil.

My tips here are geared more towards men. The main thing is to actually ‘know you belong’. You don’t want to stand out like a ‘tourist’. The energy you project is one of the most important things.

If you have a strong, self-assured, independent, ‘minding your own business vibe’ like I always carry, you are FAR less likely to be seen as a potential victim of mugging or drama. Even a bit of ‘don’t mess with me – stay away’ vibe can work to your advantage as well.

Another thing is to stay away from obviously dangerous areas like really poor areas, favelas or barrios unless you’re with a group (and in daylight). You don’t want to really ‘stand out’ either. Because I look so international, I guess that often works to my advantage to blend in.

I could actually pass as South American in many parts (and have) but if you are pasty white and really stand out, you may really have to be more conscious of things, not to look like a super-tourist gringo. It really helps to know some of the languages to get around anyways and look like you belong. Give people respect and don’t try to attract trouble.

It’s not best to wear flashy jewelry and the like when you’re going out at night in some cities.

Talk with assurance to any cab drivers and know where you’re headed. In some countries where they are more forthcoming and aggressive you almost want to ‘match’ that vibe in communicating with them – you don’t want anyone mistaking you for a ‘weak’ tourist that they can prey upon but that you know how to handle yourself and know the area (or assuredly expect them to do their job).

In Indonesia, I read ahead of time and avoided the freelance cabbies. Stick with the government or city regulated cabs whenever possible. Try and memorize or be conscious of the cab number and have it look like you are taking account of it.

Keep your belongings or any valuables DISCREET and out of sight. I like using more plain and unassuming luggage.

People recommend to travel with a buddy but I don’t always do that. I’ve walked along Avenida Atlantica in Rio de Janeiro several times alone without any issue. A physical presence and awareness can really help you out.

If you appear like a victim or are ‘afraid’ to be in certain areas, that is going to come across and you’re going to stand out more as a potential victim. Take some self-defense classes and work on your physical energy.

I have avoided a lot of trouble by not looking for trouble but also in being more strong and direct in communicating with people I’m not sure about or who seem kind of sketchy.

Some people just ‘attract trouble’. You don’t want to be that guy. There were some guys in the Army who just always attracted trouble or who would have trigger hair tempers. Negative energy can attract other troublesome people.

There are guys that will keep attracting trouble. Instead, you want that, self-confident ‘staying out of other people’s business’ vibe.

This has got me through Indonesia, Brasil and other areas which ARE dangerous at the wrong time and place. My military background has helped with the confidence part. People ask if I’m ever afraid to travel certain places and my answer is ‘no’. Dogs sense fear. I’m going to stay independent and powerful, minding my own business and respecting other’s spaces.

A best friend was fighting the war in Iraq and that was far more dangerous than traveling semi-incognito as a civilian in Indonesia.

So do your best not to attract trouble, being boisterous or arousing suspicion. Be sensible and mindful at all times. If you’ve been able to lead an argument or get your point across, that should come across when dealing with certain types of people, but only use it in a preventative manner (ie. A cabbie who might be trying to rip you off).

Again, it’s recommended to travel with discreet luggage. Use luggage locks and ALWAYS carry a laptop wire lock if you use a laptop…out of sight out of mind. Even in hostels or hotel rooms, I’m locking my laptop up – not out of fear but just as a proactive safety measure.

On a Colombian overnight bus, I just kept the carry-on bag underneath me latched around my legs and made sure no one could access it from behind. It’s just about being mindful and having a ‘presence’ over your stuff will avoid most trouble. Always keep your bag with you.

  It’s kind of untested because it’s all preventative but looking other alpha male’s in the eye shortly out of respect yet independent strength (if they’re looking at you) and giving a faint nod while going back to your own space can be ok.

As long as your energy is strong that YOU don’t steal and you have good karmic energy, you should be fine most of the time. I never steal and I even returned a wallet by biking across Madison just to get it back to her..that has helped me out.

There are laptop thieves in some countries who will come by on bikes or grab things real fast so don’t be holding things out in the open. Watch your camera around you if you’re using it. Watch out for open beer bottles. In some places, they can ‘put something’ like a pill into your drink. This happened to me once but I was still fine because my hotel was close and I just fell asleep fast.

Get a local map and have an idea where you are. Generally, it’s not smart at all to be walking around at night in sketchy areas. If so, do it with forwarding confidence and look like you know where you’re going. If you see potential trouble down a certain side street even if it’s on your route, avoid it. Stay in well-lit, public areas whenever possible.

When some over-talkative Indonesian man on a bus wanted my U.S. address to ‘send me things’ I politely yet confidently refused. I was the first American many of those people ever had seen in Pacitan, Indonesia. Know some locals if at all possible. I had a tour guide with Plan International who was a local and informed me of some of the local advice.

You may find lower class people who want to help you out with directions with the expectation of something in exchange. This exists in the U.S. in places as well. Be forward and confident with them so as things don’t go too far. I usually politely yet confidently refuse. If they follow you and give you good advice, then give them something fair but modest in exchange and then wave them off as you confidently move on.

It’s better to ask for directions from more legitimate places like stores or uniformed officers.

When I was searching for apartments in Rodadero, there were some sketchy Peli Grosso guys who wanted to help me out. My main thing was that I didn’t want to keep being pestered by them the whole month I was going to live there, so I looked at some apartments and it was really my assertiveness in knowing what I liked and what I didn’t like and just how I dealt with them.

After I booked something I was also ‘in’ with the owner of the hotel where I rented a room for a month who also had ‘clout’ in that area – and they had a secure ‘buzz in’ gate. I was sure to get something ‘secure’ anyway for peace of mind and it was on the 14th floor.

After I came back down, I knew they wanted something in return (or things could get really pressured) so I had them order some soda’s and bread and I just paid for everything. That was absolutely fair anyways and I’m all about an exchange of value.

They wanted to pressure me into other things later but I said “not interested…I’m fine thanks” and kept walking towards my destination. Eventually, they got the idea. True confidence is the best prevention. Try to blend in and be like a local…know your way around.

In certain countries, don’t carry your wallet in your front OR back pockets..instead use a travel pouch* underneath your clothing to secure the basics. I started relaxing and thought I was fine because generally people don’t mess with me but in Las Ramblas, there were 2 incidents.

One where a group of ugly yahoo’s came up touching me and they had lifted my wallet until I started creating some strong drama as a friend said to ‘check my pockets’ and they had left it on the ledge. I leveraged getting the police over here which is something you can use in their language and be REALLY ASSERTIVE in a situation like that.

I can bring the heat and create some big drama. Doing this with congruency can be really effective in some cases.

Another time, we were out late and I didn’t even know it had been lifted…there are real pro’s at pick-pocketing who work around Las Ramblas in Barcelona and they stole my wallet without me even noticing for 2 hours (AND my back pocket was a tight fit). Because of good karma, I later got the wallet returned via Facebook (another story and it was all there except they took the cash).

If you have a room safe, use it. I usually only carry 1 or 2 good ATM cards on me and SOME local currency – not a whole lot.

REALLY be protective if you’re going to Barcelona..everyone has a story or knows someone who has things stolen. I had to lend cash to a friend who had 500 Euro stolen which he had withdrawn because of a scheme involving a woman and her lifting partner.

So anyways, there’s some practical and experienced advice for ‘staying safe’ in some of the more sketchy areas of the world. Try and room in a higher class part of town if at all possible or near a tourist district. I love Brasil and other places so I have a really positive yet still independent vibe about things when I’m going around alone. Having a real respect for the culture helps as well. It’s just riskier in some places of certain areas or cities so this is a lot of preventative stuff.

Research ahead online to see what kind of crime there is…often it’s just petty theft or muggings. When someone broke into a neighbor’s apartment late at night (I stay up late) I came out with a very loud aggressive voice as they were scuffling and then that helped him to take off.

From that point, I kept a frying pan (and NOT afraid to use it and I enjoyed visualizing how I would use it with physical energy) right near the glass window and door so that they could get an idea of what would be in store for them.

If you’ve got a Marine sticker that can work as well as a deterrent. Oh and if you go to a country with a civil war (or like that outbreak in BKK), stay away from the fighting as best you can. I was there during riots, and you just stay away..it’s not all as bad ‘everywhere’ like the news makes it seem.