#always nice when a rundown of why that one news thing I recall seeing years ago is fucked up passes my dash

[s0ulm8s]

boys like you (1.0)

✿ summary : alone and left in a mansion with nothing but your canvases and the dust slowly collecting on the window sills - a commission and a call from a childhood friend completely changes your life.

✿ genre : ot7 x f!reader, poly au, hybrid au, soulmate au, deer!seokjin, black panther!yoongi, great dane!hoseok, wolf!namjoon, calico cat!jimin, tiger!taehyung, bunny!jungkook

✿ warnings : mentions of death, maybe some mentions of assault, some fluff, reader is described as small (i.e smaller than jimin), slight age gap (reader is younger than jungkook)

✿ word count : 2.2K

✿ author’s note : i am inexperienced in hybrid aus, smut, and series so pls bare with me (not proofread yet)

✿ series masterlist! | 2.0

making yourself buckle down and work on the piece in front of you had proven to be more of a task than you had originally anticipated. the wide expanse of blank canvas you had stretched yourself 3 weeks ago, mocked you from the the sun room. it was only four days before you had to deliver your piece that you had really forced yourself to pick up a paint brush and do something useful.

the endless days spent alone in the vast building you now called home was doing a number on your psyche. the sheer loneliness seemed to eat away at not only your sanity but aided to your artist’s block - it was truly a gruesome cycle. locked away in an beautiful estate that you never asked for.

not only that, but working from home and having an all but nonexistent social life in a country you only permanently moved to a year prior was a fate worse than you had imagined.

you huffed, finally setting your small brush down on the easel, stepping back to assess your final draft. despite being so unmotivated and plum out of ideas, you were still proud of what you created - you had promised yourself long ago that you’d never sell a piece you abhorred, and you’d remained true to that promise thus far.

a blaring ring ripped you out of your critical trance trained on the landscape in front of you, startling you as your heartbeat quickened in pace.

“hello?” you answered, soft voice flowing through the other end as you anticipated the response from the unknown caller.

“yah! y/n! is that you?” the voice that responded was loud and excited, the baritone of it something you could never forget. a staple soundtrack from the summers you spent with your father in south korea.

“mingi? how’d you get my number?” you asked, a genuine smile flooding your face at the sound of his familiar laugh on the other end. 

of course, the two of you had stayed in brief contact since meeting as children. but as you grew, you saw less of each other. three years ago he and his boyfriend, yunho, had successfully started their own rehabilitation and adoption center for hybrids. the first year was hard, but the business quickly gained popularity and as the creator - he’d been exceptionally busy since her permanent move to south korea. they had two permanent doctors on staff, kim hongjoong and park seonghwa, along with a 24 hour staff. the workers were really exceptional, but you had only ever met their core group when the business first started. which included: choi san, jung wooyoung, choi jongho, kang yeosang, the two doctors, and of course the two owners.

“you were commissioned by a friend of mine! which is actually why i wanted to reach out.” he answered happily as your breathing evened and heartbeat finally settled.

“it’s good to hear from you, really. what can i do for you?” you asked sweetly, and mingi only briefly thought about teasing you for your soft tone and giving nature.

“would you be able to come to the adoption wing today? i’m working here all day as we’ve some new hybrids ready to find a new home. maybe in about an hour? you could join me on my rounds and we could talk. i’d like to see you, anyways. i’ve missed you.” mingi spoke professionally, but his admission made tears prick at your eyes. he almost sounded like the sixteen year old boy who had stolen your first kiss when visiting your father that summer and the memory of when things were simpler stung in your chest. your cheeks flushed. mingi smiled at your silence, knowing he had flustered his best childhood friend. you narrowed your eyes briefly, as he had tried to convince you many times in the past to adopt a hybrid of your own - but you had declined, not entirely convinced that you could provide an exceptional life for another being. because even though your knowledge on hybrids wasn't nearly as advanced as mingi’s, you still knew the basics. they weren't just animals, they were human. and there was no guarantee there. there never was with humans. you hesitate.

“y-yes. i can come by, i’ve just got to swing by and deliver my painting beforehand.” you answered as you both agreed on the meeting the time. “oh, and mingi? i’ve missed you, too.” you said genuinely as he broke into a toothy smile. it had been ages since he’d seen you, and though he knew he could blame it on his work - he didn’t know how to face you after the death of your father. he couldn’t bring himself to be there for you, to see you so broken, and he had blamed himself for that everyday. it was a relief to hear you say it. you had always been so forgiving, sometimes to a fault.

after bidding your goodbyes to the tall boy on the other side of the phone, you quickly changed clothes into something not completely ruined by the muted pigments of your paint, loaded up in your small suv, and you were off.

the delivery of your piece went smoothly, no heckling or disapproving gazes from the wealthy couple, which made your trip to TWILIGHT that much faster. you pushed open the double doors connected to the building in the right wing, clearly labeled ADOPTION. 

the smell of roses and lavender was strong in the reception area, the scent was welcoming and calming as you walked up to the front desk. 

“y/n!” the dark haired boy behind the computer called, finally rolling away from behind the screen. kang yeosang. “it’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed, eyes scanning your face as he made his way around the counter and pulled you into a soft embrace.

“likewise, yeo! it’s been a while hasn't it?” you ask rhetorically as you stare up at his daunting height.

“mmm” he hummed with a nod, releasing you. “i'll let mingi know you’re here.” he called, returning to his place behind the sleek desk, paging mingi, and then proceeding to catch up with you.

the small conversation didn’t last long before a pair of heavy footsteps drug your gaze to the wide staircase, mingi barreling down them.

you braced yourself as the giant scooped you up into a bone crushing embrace, spinning your small frame around in a circle as he let out a happy laugh. your arms snaked around the man’s neck to secure your place and return the hug.

you giggled happily as mingi finally set you down in your original place, looking down at you excitedly. had he gotten taller? impossible. maybe you had shrunk?

after an exchange of excited greetings, mingi gestured to his clipboard before finally asking, “you ready?”

you nodded softly and followed close behind as he guided you down the halls of the adoption center. he gave you the rundown of their center, showing you the wide expanse of spotless rooms sealed in by plexiglass to show the hybrids ready to be rescued. he explained that most hybrids were separated by predator, prey, species, breed, etc. but many were grouped together with their respective packs. the rooms were quite lavish, but not very homey. but what could you expect from an adoption clinic? the point was to find homes.

you passed many show exhibits, watching intently at the small dogs or tall humans sitting in the rooms patiently, playing with one another or napping quietly. you cooed at a few.

“so i asked to see you because i’d love to have your art displayed in our business.” he propositioned, leading you into an empty room as the automatic doors opened and shut behind you. you nodded, heart lurching a bit as you recalled your artist’s block. you shook the thought away as you observed the room. it was large, littered with scattered pieces of nice furniture and random toys. “ideally, i’d love to have your pieces throughout the whole establishment but this is my main concern.” he finished, gesturing to the empty space on the large wall, the one you’re faced with when first entering.

“are you wanting a mural?” you ask, voice now stable and a bit louder. 

“i'd like the piece to cover the majority of the wall, but i’d rather have it on canvas if that’s doable. in case it needs to be moved.” he explained as you nodded, taking in rough measurements of the space as mingi explained his vision for the space - effectively helping you circulate a few ideas on what you could create. you accepted his offer as he discussed payment and supplies with you, adding in an extra cost at the large measurement of the canvas you’d need custom made.

the air in the room grew a bit thick at the sound of a small beep, alerting the two of you to another door opening. your skin was now a bit hot and you suddenly became very aware of your surroundings. your fingers tingled a bit. usually a foreign feeling such as the one you were experiencing would send you into a panic, but it didn’t. if anything you felt quite calm as you looked on inquisitively at the distant thump coming toward the two of you.

“ah, it’s look like some of our hybrids are finished with their check ups.” mingi announced as you nodded lazily. he turned to you. “we usually send them into the lounge area for about an hour after routine check ups. helps them calm down.”

suddenly, you could pay no mind to mingi’s words as a black bunny rounded the corner, back foot slapping the tile exceptionally hard every so often as you smiled down at the creature happily. it stopped in it’s tracks as it’s gaze landed upon you, rearing up on it’s back legs, and tilting it’s head innocently as it examined you. 

you knelt down to greet him, the bunny immediately approaching you and sniffing your hand before accepting you and nuzzling into you closer. mingi was taken aback as he observed the usually reserved and nervous rabbit.

“hello.” you cooed, stroking the bunny effortlessly, careful to avoid his ears and tail, briefly recalling how sensitive they could be. “what’s your name?” you asked as mingi coughed.

“this is jeongguk, he’s one of our younger hyrbrids. the youngest in his pack.” he told you as you picked the bunny up and set him into your small lap. mingi almost gasped at the interaction between you and the rabbit as you pet him happily.

your trance was interrupted at the light purr and brush of a small calico next to you. you instinctively reach out to pet him, as he rubbed into your hand. “and who might you be?”

“this is jimin, the two are in a pack.” mingi attempted to explain, trying to understand the absence of jimin’s usually protective behavior and unable to tell you the full story before you asked him something he was not expecting.

“and they’re ready to be adopted?” you asked softly, not even looking up at mingi as he stuttered. the idea of adopting a hybrid didn’t seem so far-fetched now at how taken you were with the two animals in your lap. you could handle the bunny and cat, without a doubt.

“y-yes but we only adopt out entire packs together and -”

“of course, i wouldn’t dream of separating them. is there anyway i could meet them properly, as soon as i possible i think -” you interrupt. starting to gush a bit, voice hushed and excitable.

mingi cut you off, “no, y/n. you aren’t listening. they aren’t just a pack of two.” he sighed, as your gaze finally met his. “in fact they aren’t just bunny and calico, they’re pack also includes that of a wolf, black panther, deer, great dane, and tiger... their pack has been hard to adopt out as it’s so rare for such a large mix of predators and prey... but they found each other and experienced a lot together... it was only inevitable. and we can’t separate them, we refuse to. and they won’t leave one another.” he finally finished explaining as your expression fell. you let out a breath. seven hybrids. all male. and three apex predators, at that. the thought of suddenly thrusting seven knew faces - seven new men - into your home was intimidating to say the least.

you looked down at the two animals in your lap, the bunny almost looked cresfallen. gauging your reaction as his big brown eyes stared at you expectantly. as if he knew you’d reject him. mingi continued rambling on about how many adopters had expressed interest in at least one of the pack but were never willing to bring in all seven. it hurt your heart as you watched on the bunny and calico.

the estate your father had left you was empty, though. begging to be occupied. you had more than enough room and were blessed with an untouched inheritance. maybe this is what you should use it for. you had always felt too guilty to spend it. but nothing seemed more right, which was a shocking realization to someone who never thought they’d adobt a hybrid.

“could i meet them? the seven of them? i’d at least want to give them a chance... truthfully, i dont think i can leave them behind.” you admitted softly, the bunny and cat both perked up, ears raised and twitching.

“of course. i can arrange a meeting and speak with them tonight... i’ll gather their files for you to take home tonight. can you make it back in again tomorrow?” mingi asked after a deafening pause of hesitation, mouth hanging agape before coming back into reality.

“i’ll be here.”

[youngbeezer]

Do you Believe in Happily Ever After? | Joel Farabee

A/N: Hello again! I got such a great response to my first fic I posted which literally made me so happy, so thank you so much to anyone who gave me the time of their day to read my fic. Here is a new fic for mr. joel farabee!! This one is a little longer and I tried my best, feedback always appreciated, but I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Few curse words, overall just fluff

Word Count: 2160

Tagging a few people again so this doesn’t flop,,,

@ollywahlygator @joshsandersons @joelsfarabees @fratboyzegras @sorokns @butgilinsky @ricohenrique

I haven’t been to too many weddings in my life. I attended one for my uncle when I was around 10 years old but I don’t remember much from it. My mother also got remarried around 3 years ago, but up until this year, weddings weren’t a natural occurrence in my life. 

This past year though.. I’ve attended two weddings, got an invitation in the mail today for another one, a close friend of mine just recently got engaged (so that invitation will be coming sometime in the near future), and one of my best friends’ wedding is tomorrow. Now I feel like everywhere I look, I am surrounded by love. 

Now I’m not saying that is a bad thing, but when every one of your friends are either having kids, getting married, or in serious relationships, it starts to feel a little discouraging. Is there something wrong with me? Am I the reason why I’m still single?-- No, I refuse to think like that! I could get a boyfriend if I wanted to. Maybe my friends are right though… Maybe I’m not putting myself out there enough. 

Anyway, one of my best friends, Karly, is getting married to her long-time boyfriend Travis tomorrow. I’ve met Travis, or as everyone seems to call him ‘TK’, a handful of times and I know he plays for the Philadelphia Flyers hockey team-- which is cool I guess, but other than that I don’t know much about his personal life or who he hangs out with. 

Karly and I met running into each other at a cafe once. Yeah, yeah I know it sounds like one of those cliche romantic meetings, where two people bump into each other and immediately fall in love. I mean we did hit it off almost immediately and from there we became like two peas in a pod-- just not in the way you think. I’ve always wondered though, if maybe I ran into a handsome man at a coffee shop or walking down the street, would I be having my happily ever after right now?

I snap out of my thoughts when an incoming call from- speak of the devil, the bribe to be. Before I can even say my greetings, Karly jumps right into business;

“Ok! So since you weren’t able to come to the dress rehearsal or rehearsal dinner. I’ll give you the rundown on what you need to do.”

Oh yeah, did I mention that I am one of the bridesmaids? Sadly, I was not able to attend the functions before the wedding due to not being able to get time off from work. But, Karly was super cool with it, which brings us to the reason for this call.

“Ok so basically, your dress and everything is already in the bridal suite, so everything will be ready for you when you get here tomorrow. You’ll be walking down the aisle third with one of Travis’ buddies Joel-- he plays on the team with Trav and he’s such a sweet guy he’ll definitely help you out if you need anything.. You know now that I think about it you guys would be such a cute couple-”

“Uh Karly? I don’t think now's the time to play matchmaker, when we should be preparing for your big day tomorrow.” I cut her off. 

“Alright, alright. But I will be coming back to that thought. Ok so anyway--”

After that I kind of zone out from trying to keep up with whatever Karly is spitting at me right now. While still on the phone, I pull out my laptop and search for the name ‘Joel’ with ‘Philadelphia Flyers’ next to it in search of this man who is said to be walking me down the aisle. Right away the name ‘Joel Farabee’ pops up with a wikipedia and multiple photos. Hm this guy is kinda cute. Just as I go to click view more images, Karly’s words register back in my brain;

“Ok y/n, did you get that?”

“Hm.. oh yeah! Got it. What time should I be there tomorrow?” I ask, praying that she didn’t already mention that and realize I wasn’t paying attention. 

“8 AM sharp,” she responds all giddy. 

I suddenly remember that my best friend is actually getting married tomorrow. Feeling giddy as well I reply, “Sounds good. I am so happy for you Karly and I can’t wait to see how beautiful you look tomorrow!” 

Karly does a little shriek in response and reiterates her excitement as well. We then say our goodbyes and I wish her a great last night as an unmarried woman before hanging up. I got back to what I was working on before the call and all my jumbled thoughts entered my brain, totally forgetting about a certain someone named ‘Joel’ as I exited the browser. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning I arrive at 8:17 AM at the wedding venue and as soon as I exit the Uber, I start booking it to the bridal suite. When Karly says to be somewhere at 8 AM sharp, you be there at 8 AM sharp, and I’m not particularly fond of facing her wrath today, especially on her wedding day when stress levels are through the roof. 

There’s just one problem though… Since I wasn’t able to attend the rehearsal, I have no idea where I am going. 

Trying to recall the directions Karly told me on the phone last night (when I wasn’t paying attention), I take a sharp turn around a corner looking the opposite direction and suddenly collide with a dead end. Wait- no that’s not a dead end, it’s a person. 

Immediately going to spit out an apology, I stop dead in my tracks when I make eye contact with the handsome man I bumped into. 

“Oh shit! I am so sorry. Are you alright?” I see his lips moving, which are very nice to look at by the way, but my mind doesn’t register his words as I stare dumbfoundedly at this handsome stranger. Who, now that I think about it, looks a little familiar. 

When I still don’t answer, the familiar stranger clears his throat before giving me a once over of my whole body, which does little to bring me out of my trance. If anything I now start to feel my whole face flush from noticing him obviously checking me out. 

His face then seems to light up in recognition before asking, “Wait, are you y/n?”

When he notices my look of confusion on how he knows my name he continues, “I’m Joel, Joel Farabee.” Scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, I notice a slight blush coating his cheeks before he adds, “We’re paired to walk down the aisle together… Um, also I think Karly is looking for you. She was kind of freaking out a little.”

With that last sentence my whole body comes back to life realizing that I am late and Karly is going to kill me. Hurriedly I exclaim “Oh my gosh! I am so late and I have no idea where the hell I’m going.” I frantically search around for any directions to point me to the bridal suite.

Joel kindly puts his hand on my shoulder, which immediately ignites a fire on the skin he is touching, before he reassures “Hey, you’re good. Just take your first right down this hall and then it will be at the end of the corridor, you can’t miss it. Seriously. She hung up streamers and balloons everywhere with a poster on the door that says ‘Bridal Suite. NO BOYS ALLOWED’.” 

Letting out a soft snort I gently thank Joel before rushing in the direction he pointed me to. Before turning right, I sneak a quick glance over my shoulder to find Joel already glancing my way. My heart does a little flutter when we make eye contact and he gives me a little lopsided grin before going on his way. 

What just happened… 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As soon as I walk through the doors of the suite, I am immediately ambushed by the bride to be on why I was late, until she notices the deep blush covering my cheeks, which then prompts another ambush on what made me blush. 

I change the topic as quickly as I can and direct our attention on getting ready for the ceremony. Karly looks absolutely beautiful in her white gown and her hair all dolled up. She doesn’t even seem remotely nervous for today as well. Most weddings I have been to, the bride is always going batshit crazy making sure everything is perfect or worrying that her soon to be husband might back out. That just shows how happy and comfortable Karly and Travis are in their relationship. God, I wonder what it must feel like to have that kind of love that is so solid and healthy. Suddenly my mind starts drifting to what it would be like to have that type of relationship with Joel. 

Oh who am I kidding? I just met the guy. Sure, when his hand touched my shoulder my whole body felt like it was on fire. And yeah, maybe when he gave me that little lopsided grin it gave my entire stomach butterflies. Oh jeez. Today is gonna be a long day… 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ok now I feel like my whole body is going to explode. He is looking at me like I’m now the bride and he is the groom. And suddenly, I’m wishing that were the case. We are getting closer and closer to walking down the aisle together, and every step we take towards one another my stomach does a little flip. 

When we finally reach each other, he offers his arm for me to take as he speaks, “Wow… Uh yeah wow, you look gorgeous.”

Blushing, I respond with a quiet “Thank you.” 

“Guess I was the lucky one eh? In case I end up tripping and making a fool of myself, no one will even be paying attention because all eyes will be on you.” There’s that little lopsided grin of his again. 

“Well aren’t you a sweet talker.” I responded. 

He just gives me a subtle wink before we ascend through the doors and down the aisle where Travis is waiting for the big moment. He gives us both a little smirk before we part ways like he knows something we both don’t. 

…

Eventually Karly walks down the aisle looking like an absolute princess. The officiator says his whole ordeal, Karly and TK both say their vows to one another, there are lots of tears, and Joel and I can’t seem to keep our eyes off of each other. 

After the ceremony, we all head in the direction of the reception hall where the real fun begins. Don’t get me wrong, the wedding was spectacular, the way everyone expected it to be. Now as music filled the air with a giddy sort of elation, the newlyweds looking beautiful and so happy while dancing, friends and relatives chatting between one another about this and that; I can’t help but feel a little bittersweet about it. I want this. I want that giddy elation to be surrounded around me, I want to wear that beautiful white gown, I want the guy to be looking at me like I just hung the moon while we had our first dance. Where’s my happily ever after--

“You know you never properly introduced yourself?” 

Startled, I spun around to find the source. Joel. 

I give him a sweet smile before returning my gaze back to the happy couple and responding, “Y/n y/l/n.” 

He follows my gaze and lets out a little sigh before expressing “They’re perfect for each other, aren’t they?” 

“Yeah, they really are.” Before I can get another word in Joel blurts;

“Do you wanna dance? Like,” He stumbles a little with his words, “like with me?”

Letting out a soft giggle, I happily reply, “I would love to.” 

Seemingly relieved, Joel takes my hand and leads me out onto the dance floor as soon as a slow song comes on. He puts his hands respectively on my waist while I put mine around his neck inching him closer to my body. We dance with each other for a while, even after the song is over and a fast high tempo song blasts through the speakers. It’s like we are lost in each other, just savoring this ‘moment’ together. 

Eventually after the fourth song comes on and we are still dancing, Joel pulls away just a little to look me in the eye before softly whispering “Do you believe in happily ever afters?” 

Seeing that look in his eyes again, the one where it seems like he is looking at me like I just hung the moon? I answer in that same soft whisper, “Yeah… yeah I think I do.”

[lassluna]

Off the Deep End (2/?)

Emma Swan has had to fight for everything in her life. She’s had to fight to keep a roof over their heads, she’s had to fight to keep her marriage from crumbling--that was a fight doomed from the start--and to fight to make something of herself.

Then of course that rich snob on a boat cost her her job. He’s an absolute prick who has probably never fought for anything in his entitled life. So when an opportunity for a little revenge pops up, who was she to deny it?

Now she has to fight to keep from having actual feelings for the amnesiac who might just care about her and her kids.

CS Overboard AU

Ao3 FFN

AN: Long over due second chapter of my @captainswanmoviemarathon​, submission thank you so much for you support of this. I really appreciate it. Also thank you @carpedzem​ for the wonderful art It’s wonderful as always.  

Chapter 2

Killian Jones had never wanted for anything. Not with his mother’s multimillion dollar shipping company that she had built herself. Their fortune provided him the opportunity to live in the lapse of luxury, anything he so desired was his with a simple phone call or a credit card. Everything except his mother herself.

He remembered Alice Jones fondly, remembers the trips to the beach they went on, being 5 years old and watching her teach his elder brother to sail. They both adored their time with her, their time cooking in the kitchen, going to a movie anything to keep the boys from realizing just how privileged they were.

He remembers what she used to tell them before they went to sleep. “A man who doesn’t fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.” She would say. He tried to live by that, even after her death when he was still a child. Even after his father, drowning in grief,  spent most of his childhood in board meetings or bars rather than with him.

Boarding schools raise the children of the rich. This was a fact Killian knew quite well from all his time spent in them. But Killian was nothing if not resourceful. A man who doesn’t fight for what they want deserves what they get, and so whatever Killian wanted, he would get. He had enough power and influence to do so. 

Sometimes it took money, other times it took throwing around his father’s reputation. Anyone who said no to him never held firm for long, all it took was a message to his father (His secretary really if Killian was being honest)  and whatever stood in his way crumbled under their weight. 

(Killian never really asked how exactly they did it, just that it was easier than parenting)

Liam never really liked Killian’s mentality when it came to these things, he always tried to teach Killian how to deal with things like this with honor or good form. Those concepts made him roll his eyes.

It’s not like Liam ever stuck around either to actually clean up the mess his bouts of ‘honor’ led him into. The moment Liam joined the military Killian was alone again, back to handling things his way. It was easier that way.    

Killian would never want for anything. Except maybe for this splitting headache to subside. And it wasn’t from a bloody hangover.

“Here you go babe.” A voice says besides him as one of the crewen handed her an icepack to put on his aching head. “I can’t believe that crazy person threw you off your own ship!” She exclaims, the coldness seems to help his aching head.

He smiled at her, his brunette beautiful girlfriend of half a decade. He doesn’t know what he’d do without her, or at the very least he’d have a lot less fun doing it.

“Perhaps Mr. Jones needs to go see a doctor.” The crewman notes. Milah rolls her eyes.

“Killian is fine, aren’t you babe?” She asks. “We have a party tonight that I-we simply can not miss.” He smirks. Typical Milah, much like himself she knows that the celebration shouldn’t stop, he was Killian Jones after all.  

What he wanted, he got, what he couldn’t have he’d buy. Simple as that.

“Mr. Jones, you have a call sir.” Another crewman said, the young lady who typically served the food. He waved her away.

“Tell whoever that is I’m busy.” He says. He does not have time for his father or brother getting involved in his personal life. Always wanting to change him to fit their needs. He had no interest in whatever they had to say.

“Your brother says it can’t wait.” She adds nervously. “He said something about flying over if you don’t take his call.

Killian groans in annoyance. The only thing worse than talking to Liam is him showing up here unannounced and killing his buzz. He recalls a time last year when he and his mates stormed into his party and effectively confiscated all the rum, a killing blow to even the most lively of events.

“Fine.” He says offering his hand for the phone. “What is it brother?”

“Nice way to greet me, little brother.” Liam says mildly amused. 

“Younger brother.” He responds impatiently. Killian’s always hated his nickname which of course just made Liam use it at every turn. “Now tell me what’s so important that you had to threaten to show up if I don’t answer?” He snaps. He glances at Milah’s face, she seems mildly annoyed but listening all the same. 

“Why are you in Maine?” He asks. “You’re supposed to be in New York for father’s birthday.” Killian rolls his eyes.

“Well that’s exactly why I am here, brother. Today it’s Maine and then tomorrow we head out to cross the Atlantic, we’re thinking of hitting London next.I have no intention of visiting my father and his gang of supporters and gathering around and talking about what a wonderful father he is.” Killian snaps. “You and I both know he wasn’t.”

“Be that as it may, he still only wants the best for us.” Liam adds. “Just come down, smile and then you can be off again.”

“You know the second I step foot there he’s going to be down my throat about taking up the reigns of the company alongside you.” Killian reminds him. He does so every time he sees him. 

“And is that so bad?” Liam asks. “Is it so terrible to try to protect what mother built? So terrible to make something of our lives?” Killian can tell he was getting impatient with him “It’s about time you stop obsessing over the past and grow up brother.”

“Easy for you to say, you joined the bloody military to get away from him.” Killian reminds him. While Liam was off being the honorable brother, he was expected to take part of their mother’s company. He never wanted any of that. But what he wanted never seemed to matter. 

“And you used alcohol and your bloody boat.” Liam snaps. “What would our mother think if she saw you now? Prancing around without a care in the world with that gold digger at your side”

Now Killian was getting angry. “Mother always said we need to fight for what we want, brother. And right now I want to be done with this conversation.”

Killian didn’t wait for a response before hanging up.

He gives a long sigh, running his hand through his hair in frustration. Talking to his family always left him frustrated. Couldn’t they see he was not interested in any of that? That he was perfectly content with life as it was?

“I’m sorry sweetie.” Milah says, as she always does when he has a difficult phone call with his family. “But maybe it’s best for us to go.” She offers. “Rub a few elbows, and maybe get absolutely wasted at your dear ol’ dad’s expense.” She says with a smirk.

He can’t help smile at Milah’s attempt to make him feel better.  

“But for now, let’s get ready for the best party this little rundown port has ever seen!” She says happily. She stands up and points to the crew who had given her the cold press. “What are you standing around for? We have work to do.” She announces. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll take care of everything.” She promises.

True to her word, she does. Killian can’t help but laugh at the way Milah barked her orders and demanded at his employees, making sure that this party Milah insisted on throwing was to her liking.

Hell hath no fury like a disappointed Milah.

 //

The party was excellent, just as Milah intended. Lord knows he would have heard about it had things gone any other way. It was something Killian liked about her, always striving for perfection. 

They headed off to sea onwards the end of the party, just in time for the locals to get the bloody hell off his ship. Killian quite enjoyed it like that. He much preferred to head off to England with just his normal crew and Milah.

“Did you have a good time?” Milah asks, smiling down at him from her position on the railing. He was nursing one last beer, watching the lights from the town fade away.

“Of course love.” He says, standing up to give her a swift peck on the cheek. She didn’t hesitate to draw him in deeper, a hand on his cheek. “I always do.”

It made her smile brighter.

“Always.” She repeats. “That’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. We’ve been together for years Killian.” 

He nods. It had been a whirlwind romance, full of sex and alcohol and quite a bit of fun along the way. She understood him in ways that most did not. Far more than his brother or father ever did.

“Always.” Milah repeats. “Do you think...” She trails off. He smiles, cupping her cheek.

“What is it? You know you can talk to me.”

“Killian.” She says slowly. “Have you ever thought... do you think...”She looks away then glances up. “Marry me Killian Jones.”

He doesn’t think he’s heard her correctly. Marriage? Him?

He can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. Him marry her? It was more ridiculous the more he thought about it. He felt Milah push him away, her hopeful smile gone in an instant. 

“Why are you laughing?” She demands. “You ungrateful bastard.” She pushes him again rougher.

“Milah...” He says trailing off. “Why the hell would I want to marry you?” Because that’s the truth. They’d never spoken about this, never talked long term. Sure they've been together for the last few years but he never...he never thought about them being long term, never thought she wanted that life.

He sure as hell doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to run the company like Liam wants him to. He doesn’t want to stop seeing the world and he sure as hell doesn’t want marriage and children.

Perhaps Milah doesn’t quite understand him like he thought.

“Because-Because” She stutters out. “Because you love me!” She declares. 

He shakes his head. “Milah I think you have the wrong idea about what we have. It’s just...fun, nothing so serious. Just mindless fun.”

“You absolute jackass!” She shrieks and gives him another push in the chest. It doesn’t hurt persay, but it does make his grip on the railing loosen, then there’s a sickening crack as the security on the railing breaks under their weight. He stumbles backwards and barely catches himself. He’s holding onto his ship now.

“Bloody hell.” He curses. “That was a close-”

He’s interrupted by something being smashed over his head. The next thing he knows he hits the freezing cold water below.

//

He wakes up cold. The sun is high in the sky and everything bloody hurts. From his head, to his arm to ever bloody inch of his skin.

He groans at sound above him, buzzing and buzzing.

“...who is he...”

“...ambulance...”

He opens his eyes just a crack. There’s a man, no two of them, standing over him, one has a phone in his hand.

“Sir?” he says. “Are you alright?”

He’s not but that should be bloody obvious.

“Can you tell us your name?” He blinks.

He can’t. He can’t remember...anything.

//

“Killian Swan.” He repeats, now knowing his name. 

Something about the name doesn’t sit right with him. But then again, he doesn’t know what does sit right with him. 

He narrows his eyes at the blonde. “And you’re my wife?” He repeats, looking over the blonde once more. She’s attractive enough, he thinks. But she seems guarded, not at all the warm welcome he expected from a loving wife. Not to mention the obvious waitress outfit she had on. No, no wife of his would have to resort to serving food to make a living. He can’t explain it, but he knows that his life was more than that, it was...he wasn’t sure...

“What the bloody hell happened? Why am I here and why can’t I remember anything?” He snaps impatiently. He has a hundred questions, starting with why he woke up on the beach and why it took him so long to be found. He’s been in this insufferable hospital for hours and-

“Cool it buddy.” The blonde snaps, shutting him down immediately. “Doctors say you got hit in the head, gave you some long term amnesia, probably from falling off the harbor drinking.”

“Drinking.” He repeats. Now that sounds like a fantastic idea...

“How are you feeling?” She asks, her expression softening slightly. But he can still feel walls from his lovely wife.

“Irritated.” He replies. “And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

The blonde crosses her arms. “You have a compass tattoo on your rib cage.” She replies. “A little detail I would only know if I was your wife.” She replies smugly. 

“I do not have a-” He stops short as he lifts his shirt to reveal the exact compass tattoo the woman described. He traces it lightly with his fingers. Ink on his own body that he didn’t recognize. “Bloody hell.” He says in realization. 

“You really are my wife”

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Misery Loves Company Part 2:

Meet Esmé Squalor:

The city's sixth most important financial advisor, powerhouse fashionista, and fixated on revenge coke addict. Esmé takes no time showing the orphans that she is just as scary and dangerous as Olaf and sometimes they think she is the worst of the two. Esmé has one thing on her mind and that is her precious sugar bowl which she vows she will steal back or she will burn the entirety of VFD down trying.

Esmé has no problem with any of the vicious acts that Olaf suggests. She is down for just about anything he has in mind. Murder? Yes. Very in. Kidnapping? Yes. Completely In. Arson? Yes. The innest thing since aqueous martinis. And making sure a young child is never able to sleep peacefully again? In her words that 'deliciously in'. The children have a new villain to watch out for and believe it or not...shes more unstable than Olaf.

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

[Trigger warning: subtle and not so subtle hints at Esme and Olafs hideous and devious intentions with teenaged orphans. Please read with caution]

Olaf was driving like an absolute psychopath as he raced from the burning hospital to the rundown carnival in the hinterland. He was angry. He felt defeated. Not only did those three blasted orphans escape his clutches AGAIN, now apparently someone had survived one of the fires...which one? He did not know. But that bastard, Jacques Snicket, seemed so sure of it when Olaf was watching that video. *stupid fucking VFD and their stupid fucking members escaping their well deserved deaths!* he thought as he growled as loud as he could. And to make matters worse while he was driving this way all he could think about was the woman who broke his heart so many years ago and so many times since then because he was driving just like her.

"YOU IDIOTS LET MY PRETTY LITTLE PET RUN AWAY!" He yelled hitting his fists as hard as he could on the steering wheel.

"Well technically boss..." the bald man spoke up. "She didn't *run away* the bookworm rolled her away on a gurney,"

Olaf growled again. "Oh. How I *cannot* wait to obliterate *that* brat! Oh, he thinks I've been brutal before, he hasnt the faintest fucking idea! And if you dont shut your mouth YOU WILL FEEL MY WRATH AS WELL!" Olaf yelled.

Now everyone in the car shifted a little, even Esmé who was unamused at the whole situation but kind of fearing for her life as he drove like a unpredictable madman. But...when I say that everyone in the car shifted a little...I mean *everyone* and even the three secret passengers in the trunk shifted a little especially Klaus Baudelaire who started to shake.

"Klaus...Klaus...you're fine," Violet whispered desperately reaching around for his hand. Once she found it she squeezed his hand tightly trying to keep him in reality with her and Sunny.

"We shouldnt have gotten in this trunk," Klaus whispered back. "He is going to kill Sunny and I...and..." he stopped talking when he looked towards Violet, who frowned. Both older orphans knew what Olaf would do to Violet if given the chance. Hell, both older orphans knew what Esme wanted to do with Klaus if given the chance. They both feared that even Sunny, by now,  Had a faint idea of what Olaf was talking about. "Why did....you *make me*... get in his trunk," klaus cried as he began to sob. Sunny turned her head towards her brother.

"Shhhh," Sunny pleaded. "Quiet," she reminded Klaus.

"We're going to die..." he whispered fearfully.

Violet frowned as she held klaus' hand tighter and grabbed Sunnys hand with her free hand. "I got you guys," she whispered. "I'll always protect you,"

"We know," sunny whispered back.

"Can you believe there is a SURVIVOR!?" Olaf shouted and then he screamed in pure anger. "Just when Ithought I was winning! I framed them for my MURDER for fucks sake! I HAD that pretty little brat!" He screamed angrily.

Violet shuddered and Sunny put a comforting hand in hers.

Esme scoffed and rolled her eyes when he mentioned Violet being 'pretty' again. He turned to her. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT!"

"HOW THE FUCK IS THIS *MY* FAULT!?" She asked angrily. "It was YOUR idea to use the girl as bait!"

"But you let the Baudelaires take the Snicket bitch right out the operating theater!"

"YOU SET THE HOSPITAL ON FIRE! I GOT THE FUCK OUT OF THERE!" she yelled. "He was standing right next to YOU. Why didnt ypu do anything!"

"HE WAS HOLDING THE LARGE KNIFE YOU GAVE TO HIM!" Olaf yelled back. "The plan was to use the girl as BAIT! NOT have him actually kill her! She is our key to BOTH fortunes!"

Esme gave a wicked smirk. "Oh...that was the plan? I must've forgot,"

"You pathetic jealous bitch!" He yelled.

"Oh *Im* pathetic? You've lost to these children for MONTHS now!"

"YOUVE LOST TO THEM TOO!"

"If I was in charge of this entire thing, those two girls would be dead and the boy would be our little prisoner," Esme replied wickedly smiling.

This made Klaus shiver and Sunny put her free hand in his the same way she had for Violet.

"You wouldnt have the SNICKET fortune if you killed the Snicket bitch you dumb bitch!"

Esme smiled wickedly at Olaf again. "I dont need Lemony's fortune...hell, unlike *you* I dont need Beatrice's fortune either," she laughed. "No what *I* want is to make *Beatrice's little mommy's boy suffer* " Esme tapped her long nails against her window. "Of course I also want back what's *mine*!"

Olaf rolled his eyes. "*So do I*!" He screamed. "But NOW one or two of them might not be inheritors of ANYTHING! SINCE THERES A FUCKING SURVIVOR!"

"Darling...youre honestly looking at *that* all wrong. I think this is good news," Esme replied

 Olaf responded by pushing his foot harder on the pedal.

"How is that a GOOD THING!?" hr asked.

"Well...think about it. Whoever it is. We will get to kill," esme pointed out. "I personally hope its Beatrice. I'd love to kill that sugar bowl snatching bitch...ooooh and we could make her children watch!"

"Or we can torture her children in front of her," Olaf pointed out smiling.

"Who do you think the survivor is boss?" The hook handed man asked.

"I dont know. If its Bertrand...well that's the least exciting option. But Esme's right...if its Beatrice, torturing her or her precious son and daughter would be fun."

"What about Snicket?" The henchperson of indeterminate gender asked.

Olaf pushed hard on the brakes causing everyone to ram forward a bit. His car came to a screeching halt. Violet, who had the misfortune of getting into the trunk first was squished harshly against the end of the trunk as Klaus tried to shift himself away from violet to give her room. Violet had let go of Klaus' hand in attempt to shield Sunny from hitting anything. Olaf turned around to face his henchperson. "I doubt that its Snicket...but...if it is...let's just say when I find his pretty pipsqueak daughter...I will make him watch as I *destroy* her entirely and then I will make her watch as I murder her father agonizingly slow and then I'll murder that stupid fucking bookworm and biting brat in front of her too," he hissed causing Violet to start shaking.

He took a deep breath and began driving again. Esme huffed in annoyance as the hook handed man did his best to hide a disgusted face.

Klaus looked to Vi. "Speaking of that...did he...?"

Violet wiped a few tears from her eyes. "I dont know...while I was conscious, no. Esme kept barging in before he could do more than touch my face or leg. But... when I was unconscious...I dont know. Wouldnt I know? Like...wouldnt I feel different?" She whispered as she began to sob quietly.

Klaus sighed. He didnt know the answer to that. He just gave Violet a small smile. "Yes, I think you would feel different. So if you feel the same then he didnt," he lied as he shifted his arm under her head to give her head some support. He had no way of knowing...and he feared that Violet would never get a true answer.

Violet nestled closer to Klaus and Sunny as she shivered form the cold mountain air that seeked in through the bullet holes of Olafs trunk. Klaus and Sunny could hear her whimpers and shivers. Klaus tried his best to take off his suit jacket from where he laid but he couldnt. Sunny shifted to lay more on Violet to act as a blanket for her. "Violet..." klaus whispered.

"Yeah," she replied back in a hushed tone as she wiped a few tears from her eyes.

"I just wanna say this... if I ever find out that he *did* hurt you or if he ever *does* hurt you like *that*...or if he continues to try to hurt you like *that* **I'll castrate him myself...**" klaus whispered. Violet looked towards her brother and even in the cold, dark trunk of their worst nightmare's car, she could see the dark look in his eyes.

"Klaus...you dont..."

"Oh you're right," he replied. "I'll hold him down and let you do it if youd rather.."

Violet gave a small chuckle to that.

"Darling! I've been thinking about what you said back in crow town,"

"What did I say back in crow town?" Olaf asked confused as he continued to drive like a psycho.

"Well... you said that the boy was much more fun to torture than either one of the girls...and *you're right!*" Esme recalled. "So why dont we just keep him,"

Olaf growled. "Wr are keeping the Snicket bitch! That little tease has another thing coming..."

"We are keeping the boy..." esme demanded in a tone that made Klaus shudder.

"Why dont we just keep who we catch first?" The hook handed man replied. "Besides when we left the hospital the brats were stuck in a utility closet...I doubt they all made it out,"

Olaf snickered at this. "It would be nice if one or two of them burned to a crisp...just like their parents," he began smiling and laughing.

"Well, except the survivor," the henchperson of indeterminate gender replied.

This sent Olaf into another screaming and raging fit.

Esme rubbed her temples. "I just want my sugar bowl...that's it...that's all. I'm down with murder, kidnapping, and making it to where little children cant have another peaceful night of sleep but I AM NOT DOWN WITH THE YELLING AND THE INSANE DRIVING!!!!"

"Fuck off...we are almost to Caligari Carnival. Then we can ask Madame Lulu where to find that little Snicket tease and the two other ugly brats," Olaf replied.

Esme rolled her eyes. *I will kill that fucking brat. Hes not touching any girl related to that bitch Katherine* she thought as she continued to rub her temples. 

Esme was not someone who was used to someone telling her that she cant have her way. She was too rich, beautiful, and powerful for *that* bullshit but as she sat in the passenger seat of Olaf's car she was beginning to think that shed have to take matters into her own hands if she was going to get what she wanted. Olaf seemed determined to have the Snicket brat as a captive...and Esme would rather have the infant than the Snicket girl.

"Do we have any wine? I'm parched and I heard wine is very in this time of year,"

"We have some in the trunk. I would be happy to get it if we stopped," the hook handed man replied.

The three children froze. Violet put her arm around Sunny tightly as Klaus put his arm around Violet to hold her and Sunny, who laid on top of Violet hoping to keep her warm, put a loving hand on Violet and her other on Klaus. Their hearts stopped as Olaf stopped the car.

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 6)

Rating: T Warnings: Violent imagery, trauma, objectification Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 “They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

Time passed in days that moved as slowly as treacle and months that dashed by like they were but fleeting minutes. They did not count the days, but they spent years together in that small wooden house with its tumbling garden and its persimmon tress, by the brook and amidst the forest, and they found that they did not change.

The nature of ageing was a mystery then, and still is, and it was not clear why some people aged naturally and others stayed the same. But something of it was bound up in the deepest, most heartfelt wishes of a person. Those who wished for change found themselves to change; those who did not stayed the same- static and unmoved by the relentless waters of time.

They clung with the desperate grasp of childhood to the safety of the eternal present, to the haven they had carved out for themselves amidst the world’s cruelty.

The days they shared together- thousands and thousands of days of warm domesticity, childish adventure and the soothing, simple rhythm of a life lived together- ran like gold. 

--

(But they did not come to realise that until it was much too late and those days had long since passed.

There would be days, days to come, when they would come to wish that they had never left behind that house, with its garden and its stream.)

---

There came a day when he had been putting on his shoes to make the long journey into town, only for her to pipe up suddenly: 

"Take me with you."

It had been a long considered thing on her part. Seeing him leave as frequently as she did, some measure of curiosity had begun to burn inside her, and questions had begun to form in her mind. Where did he go when he left? What did he do in town? Whom did he meet? What was it like? She recalled the rundown clusters of hovels which passed for towns in her old itinerant life, and tried to place him there in her mind's eye. But she couldn't; he was too much a piece of this new life, with its beauty and its laughter, to fit there. 

Curiosity was part of it, certainly, but it wasn't the whole tale. It was simple, really.

She had grown sad and tired of spending so many afternoons on her own, ever looking to the horizon for his return so that her life could begin again. And so, emboldened by a new forthrightness which his gentleness towards her had unearthed, she had resolved, trembling though she did at the thought, to come with him if he would let her.

He had frowned, and when he had noticed her watching him, he had quickly schooled his expression.

"It's not nice," he had warned. "It can be dangerous. I might not be able to keep an eye on ya'.”

But she had stood her ground. "I know. I remember. I was there when you came home that one time, remember?" Blood had soaked his clothing, she remembered, and they’d boiled them after to make cleaning rags.

He had squinted at her sceptically. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this," he had said honestly.

"That reminds me- you still need a new yukata," she had pointed out loudly, blithely ignoring him with about as much subtlety as a bull elephant. "You can't keep wearing that one. It's going through at the elbows."

He had sighed. It had been clear at that point that there would be no arguing with her- she would be coming with him, and worst of all, it seemed, she would have a shopping list.

Standing at the edge of the dirt road, she had looked out, out into the distance and across a sky the colour of dishwater, where a few vapid, straggling clouds lingered. Infinity dipped ahead of her, vaster and more silent than all the oceans of the world, and it towered above her like a giant, like it would fall upon her with all its immense weight if she stepped out. She had looked to the distance and hesitated.

But Gin had begun to walk ahead of her, and he had not waited and he had not looked back.

She had shook as she took her first steps, watching him walk on ahead of her.

But she had taken them.

The first steps were always the hardest.

When she had fallen into step beside him, he had said nothing, but she had sensed something of the tenor of his thoughts, and it had spoken of his approval.

They had walked for miles, and she had flinched at nearly every noise- every bird beating its wings to take flight, every inadvertent crack when she stepped on a twig; the road was a quiet place, and every echoing noise set her nerves on edge. She hated walking down this road.

Slowly, after long miles, she had begun to tire, and she had stumbled as she walked, and that had shamed her because they had still been so far from town, and he had still been as sure-footed as ever. Self-loathing had bloomed in her chest then, like an insidious spore, and she had wished despairingly that she had not said anything, that she had not made herself a burden.

He had stopped then, and it had taken her a second to realise and so she had stumbled right into him.

"Right," he had said firmly. "Hop on."

"What?" she had asked, completely thrown.

He had thumped his back, and it had made a dull, solid sound. "Hop on," he had repeated.

"I can't do that!" she had objected wretchedly. "It's my own fault for being so stupid- I should never have come if I couldn't keep up. Just leave me,” she said miserably, “and I'll get home myself."

"Maybe, maybe not," he had shrugged. "But ya' here now, and ya' all tired out, and I'm not goin' to leave ya' on the side of the road by ya'self. Hop on."

“But then you'll get tired, and it'll be all my fault!" she shouted, hating how the tears crept into her voice.

"That’s no big deal," he had said easily, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "I make this walk several times a week. I won't get tired. And ya' forget, I've carried ya' before, Rangiku. Ya' not heavy. It'll be as easy as pie. I promise."

He had patted his back again, insistently, and this time, sniffling slightly and flushing in shame at her weakness, she had grudgingly wound her arms about his neck and let him carry her.

He had kept a good pace, even with her on his back, and she had buried her face sullenly in the crook between his neck and his shoulder, the rough, cheap cotton of his yukata scratching at her face.

They had progressed this way, in silence, for half a mile when she had suddenly spoken.

"This was my life before you," she had said quietly.

He had moved his head to look at her, but had said nothing.

"Wandering from town to shitty town, chased out by the inhabitants," she had said with resignation, and it would have been shocking to hear such violent language coming from someone so small- shocking to anyone but him. "They'd throw rocks and shout, and I'd run and run and run, until it was just me and this road and that damned sky for company. Wake up in the gutter, collapse on the ground. Not much of a life, right?" She had spoken bitterly, muttering into his shoulder, her eyes bright and fierce and she had sighed with a world-weariness eerie for her years. "What about you?"

The question had caught him off-guard. They had always danced a delicate dance, he and she; conversation had always skirted gracefully over their histories, twisting and turning elegantly to avoid any mention of the past. All that had ever mattered was the here and the now, this space and time where the two of them lived together, happy and carefree, and there had been an unspoken agreement that the past was- not off-limits, per se, but unimportant.

In truth, he had never remembered much. 

He had been here longer than she had, he had felt, though whether that was months or years longer, he would have been hard pressed to say.

His memories had always been more like impressions than solid images- dark, starless nights, the sensation of tens of bodies packed tightly into spaces that could not accommodate so many, and the stale, sour smell of human beings packed together, lingering on his skin and on his clothes; a perpetual, gnawing hunger which twisted at his insides, and a very simple calculus- kill to eat, or starve.

He had not been alone, he had dimly recalled. There had been other children, and he had killed them too if they had tried to eat his food, smashed their tiny heads against the masonry until the crying stopped. He felt no guilt for that. His brutal efficiency had won him the notice of the district's lead enforcer, and with that, a steady supply of work and food.

But there was something else, which had always bothered him- another fox-like face, all slender angles and cheekbones, so much like his own, dimly remembered like a dream or the ghost of a memory. It was a secret shame, and a source of mild confusion. He had never known whether he had imagined that face or not, and he could not say which was worse.

The heart did desperate things in the midst of loneliness. He knew that well.

He had pondered his answer a while.

"Not much to say, to be honest. Not much happened,” he had said evasively, and the half-truth had twisted in his gut.

But she had known then and there that it was evasion, and had accepted it for what it was. In this violent, shadowy place, filled to the brim with a thousand sordid acts, a person, she felt, was entitled to their secrets, whatever they might be.

"It's alright," she had said earnestly. "It was wrong of me to ask. No one can live here without something awful happening to them. I don't need to know. It's not really important, unless you want it to be." She had exhaled then, and her hot breath had tickled his ears. "You've got me though," she had said shyly, and her voice had taken on an odd, unsure note, like it was a question. It had been strange, but he had been sure for a moment, through the thin barrier of their clothing, that he could feel the hammer of her heart against his back.

It was a nice thought. “Yeah,” he had agreed warmly. “I do.”

He felt, rather than saw, her smile against his cheek.

Her legs had dangled over his arms, and she had let them swing slightly as they walked.

“Do you remember anything from when you were alive?” she had asked curiously.

“So nosy!” he had remarked. “We’re alive now.”

“No!” She had kicked exasperatedly by his side, “The one before this one, silly.”

He had paused to mull the matter over. In truth, he had never really stopped to consider it.

“Absolutely nothin’,” he had said cheerfully. “Why d’ya ask?” A thought had occurred to him, and he was immediately intrigued. “Do ya’?”

“Now who’s the nosy one?” she had teased, deflecting. “I think I might, but it’s hard to say.”

“What is it?” he had demanded, hungry as ever for whatever she could give to him.

“Don’t laugh, don’t you dare laugh, Ichimaru Gin, not even for an instant,” she had warned. She taken in a deep breath. “I remember someone’s hand in mine- it was old, and wrinkled, and it had callouses on the palm, but it was soft, like paper, and so warm. I don’t know whose hand it was, but they loved me. They genuinely did. I could feel it.” She had paused and looked at him askance. “Do you believe me?”

He had been solemn. "Why wouldn't I?" he had asked, perplexed but touched that she would trust him.

"They say no one remembers anything from when they were alive. But I do. I know I do." She had paused again. "Would you go back, if you could? To the land of the living?"

It was another strange question in a conversation which had been comprised of nothing but strange questions, and he could not honestly say that he had considered the matter. In an act that had become quite routine in the time that they lived together, he had pondered the strange and twisting turns her mind took and the questions which arose in her mind, but which never seemed to occur to him without her prompting them.

He had turned the question back on her, unsettled by the turn the conversation had taken. "Would you?" he had asked, concerned.

"Well," she had hesitated, "it has to be better than this… Right?"

Her voice had murmured low in his ears, and she had swept her arm out into the horizon, overbalancing slightly as she did so. Before them, an ominous, dark blot sitting squat on the plains had just started to creep into view.

He had agreed privately, but had been loath to encourage this melancholic turn. And so he had taken a different tack.

"What, ya' don't like ya' piggyback?" he had said, feigning disappointment.

Once she would have blushed and squawked, and leapt to correct herself.

Before that, she wouldn't have been able to bear looking him in the eye, and would have mumbled her apologies, already preparing herself to be thrown out and cast back onto the road.

But that had been before, and she was no longer that fragile, heartbroken ghost of a girl. By then, she had known exactly how to deal with this mischievous streak of his.

She had banged him on the head.

"You knew what I meant!"

"Ow! I'll drop ya'," he had warned.

She had just laughed. "You won't."

He’d had to smile then too, though she could not see it. "I won't," he had promised.

"You knew what I meant anyway. You were just playing pretend," she had said. "This is the happiest I've ever been, and this is the best place in the world. I mean that."

Normally, he would have taken the time to bask in the reflected warmth of her affection, but he had still been taken up in mischief.

 "What, the road?" he had asked facetiously. “Ya’ve got terrible taste.”

She had hit him again, but his mood had been infectious.

"No. Your back, silly. Maybe you should have been a donkey, not a boy." She had giggled at her own joke, and he had let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Maybe I should revise my opinion about droppin' ya," he had mused. "But ya've lucked out- town's only about five minutes away. This is where ya' get off."

She had slid down his back inelegantly, rumpling up her already mussed yukata, and walked the rest of the way on her own two feet.

And that is how they had arrived.

He had only been back to town a handful of times since he had slaughtered the men who had attacked him, and every single one of those times, he had skulked about at odd hours in a bid to avoid further notice. He had always preferred to conduct his business surreptitiously, and the incident (as he termed it in his own mind) had only made an already difficult attempt to keep a low profile more difficult still.

The girl by his side, with her golden hair and her wide eyes as blue as forget-me-nots, did not make matters any easier.

He could feel eyes on them as they walked, and his skin crawled. It was a subtle thing, but their obviously washed bodies and their clothes- old, but clean- marked them out clearly, though not as much as his strange silver hair and her burgeoning, coltish beauty.

She had looked about fearfully on the road, but time and experience had made him keenly aware that town was a more dangerous place by far- especially for someone like her.

His grasp on her hand was like iron, a squeeze so tight that she thought her fingers might go numb, and he barely spoke, his concentration bent on scanning every face in the busy street for signs of ill intent. The ever-present smile stayed on his face, but there was a tight quality to it, though it would have been imperceptible to someone who did not know him. His body was coiled like a spring.

She had caught wind of the tension in him quickly, but wisely, she had said nothing, and stayed so close to his side that she could not help but stumble several times over. His arm was there to steady her in a flash, though he never dropped his vigil for a second.

In some ways, it was even worse than she remembered.

Shiny, red faces leered at her in the alley, gazes rolling from her chest down her torso to her legs.

Every glance lingered. Men turned their heads to look back at her when they passed.

As they walked down a busy thoroughfare, she had felt someone grab at her hair, and she had flinched fearfully, her heart hammering in her chest. Gin's smile had dropped in an instant and he'd turned violently to look at the offender, hand conspicuously on his knife. She'd been too shocked to question why, but something in the air had grown heavy and oppressive, as if the air had thrummed with a thousand razors. For a moment, she had felt that if she were to move even an inch, or to twitch involuntarily, she'd die right there and then on the spot, the air had been so sharp with murderous intent. The man had dropped his hand immediately.

She felt like a stranger in her own body, conscious of her physical form in a way she had never felt before, like there was something that everyone else could see but which she was blind to, and she wrapped her arms around herself in an unconscious bid to shield herself. She felt like an alien creature, a sideshow freak, some weird creature of the deep. She did not know why they would look at her like that and she did not like it, not in the slightest, not one bit. Hot, sickening anxiety rose in her gorge and her heart hammered.

She did not know why, but she felt ashamed.

(But she was not afraid. His hand was in hers, and he gave it a gentle squeeze, eyes still scanning ahead of them. That was all the reassurance she needed.)

The pawn shop was not far, and they covered the distance quickly, eager to lose the crowd.

It was a relief to get out of the street.

None of the shopkeepers here owned the shops they sold their goods out of and which they slept in. Instead they paid extortionate rent to families who owned the properties, but who lived out in better districts closer to Seireitei, getting fat on the proceeds like ticks on a carcass. It was almost worth it- better to rent space and pay protection money to the gangs than to take the risk selling out in the open air, where their goods could be stolen by starving street children or ruined by an entitled mobster on a passing whim.

This was the worst sort of shop, an end of the line shop, a last port of call shop, for the starving and the desperate. It was here that people would sell the clothes on their children's backs, their final possessions in this world, for whatever cash they could- seldom with any hope of ever being able to purchase them back, and very frequently for the money to be spent and used up less than a month later, leaving them with nothing.

The economy of Rukongai was kept going by places like these, parasitical though they were. For an inhabitant of the outer districts, it was only in places like these that clothes could be purchased, and the other myriad small objects which made life easier.

The shop keeper was a hard-faced woman with steely eyes and a curiously becoming snub nose, and her wares were esoteric to say the least. Her amber-eyed daughter sat sulking in the shop’s corner, watching out the grimy windows of the shop enviously at passers-by.

For someone who had scarcely ever seen the inside of a shop, it was fascinating to Rangiku. As she walked through its packed interior, her eyes landed on a broken shamisen, a wooden comb, a one-eyed rag doll, a dozen pairs of shoes, and a collection of ink stones, and a beautiful, if somewhat battered ring made of tin, and she spent almost twenty minutes exploring before finally turning to the yukata, enthralled by all the lost detritus of the desperate that had washed up here.

(They were like her, she could not help but think, these abandoned, broken objects; castaway rubbish left behind, belonging to no one. Her eyes quickly darted towards his back, already advancing ahead of her into the shop, and a gentle look crossed her face for a long moment. It might have been that way once upon a time- but not anymore.)

Everything was a jumble, and a musty, damp smell issued from wherever she rummaged. The yukata came in a range of sizes but, with a few exceptions, were all the same murky grey and brown.

"Which should we get," she asked, mind firmly on business, "this one," a faded, but still gaudy orange yukata, like the ones the whores wore, but which seemed to be an exact size match, "or this one?" a very oversized, but sensibly colored yukata, with a mysterious stain on the thigh. "The first looks like it will fit perfectly."

He grimaced comically, looking between the two yukata that she presented, and arched his neck, desperately surveying the rack for alternatives. He suddenly mourned his previous, perfectly serviceable yukata, lost to violent bloodstains and boiling.

"I'm not wearing that one," he said flatly, pointing at the orange monstrosity. She snorted.

"But Gin," she said, mirth dancing in her eyes, "don't you think you'd look so pretty in it?"

 He groaned.

"I'm already enough of a spectacle as it is, Ran-chan," he complained, gesturing to his silver hair. "Don't want to make it any worse than it is already. And anyways," he added accusatorily, "I'm hurt that ya' don't think I look pretty already."

She guffawed at him, and he batted his eyelashes at her.

He turned to face the direction of the shop-owner.

"I'd like to get this one," he said firmly. "And I'd like to exchange this one, please. It's in good condition, standard wear, no repairs needed- well looked after," he rattled off, as if it were a sales pitch he'd given a hundred times.

The shop-owner scrutinized him. "It'll still be five yuan on top of that," she waved her hand generally in his direction, indicating the clothes on his back.

He whistled through his teeth. Five yuan extra was extortionate. He knew it, she knew it, and even Rangiku, who had never seen five yuan in her life, knew it. The shop-keeper’s teen-aged daughter snorted, and her mother shot her a steely look.

"Ah, but this one that ya' tryin' to sell me has a ragged hem, see? Not to mention this dubious stain on the thigh."

She was having none of it. It was like getting blood from a stone. "Five yuan," she repeated, a note of irritation entering her voice.

He paused, and lowered his voice conspiratorially.

“Hmmmm,” he mused. “Hmm, hmm. This is strange.”

A malicious gleam entered his eyes.

“How strange- I know Omoyama-san died wearing this yukata, only four days back. Strange that. Bit suspicious that ya' even have this to be honest. Would hate to have it goin' round that you've been lootin' corpses, what with their families not givin' permission or anything'. Not that I mind, but to sell the clothes of his back so soon too, and with a frayed hem and corpse juice still fresh to sweeten the deal?"

He smiled at her sweetly.

She gave him a withering look. "Four yuan," she said grudgingly.

Rangiku grinned.

"A pleasure as always," Gin said cheerfully, dumping the money into her hand, and he began to strip.

His body was pale, thin and scrawny, but she knew that its appearance disguised a viper’s speed and a ferocity she shivered to think about. His skin had a luminous quality, with a grayish silver cast where hers tended towards gold after too much time spent in the sun. He had vivid lines of sunburn which were only just beginning to fade. The summer had been a long one this year.

She realized suddenly that her eyes were lingering, and though he gave no sign of discomfort, she recalled how she had felt only earlier that afternoon. For the first time ever, she felt the compulsion to avert her eyes, and did not know why.

He dressed efficiently, not wanting to spend any longer unclothed than was absolutely necessary, and the moment was over quickly. He waved cheerily to the shop-keeper’s daughter who raised her eyebrows at him as they left.

The hem of his new yukata trailed on the ground as they walked, and so he had to keep it gathered in one hand so as to prevent anyone standing on it and ripping it. They had only one more stop to go before they could return home, and he was keen to be done and back in bed. It would not do for two children to be out on the road after dark.

They turned the corner, and he dropped her hand suddenly, as if scalded. She looked at him askance, bewildered by his sudden reaction.

They were coming up on the town's makeshift bar, home to potentially the most dangerous (and certainly the most criminal) element of the town's population. He kept his head down as they walked and increased his pace. Rangiku trailed after him, having to break into a half-run to keep up. He tried to will himself into invisibility, praying that they would not be seen.

But it was too late- they had been noticed, and a chorus of jeers and heckling followed them as they walked.

"Runt's got himself a girl!" one of the whores cried from across the street.

"Come and join us, sweetheart!" bellowed one of the men drunkenly, beckoning them with clumsy, swinging arms.

"Who's the girl, little boy?" a round-faced whore shrieked, almost toppling off her seat in cruel excitement. He recalled that she had propositioned him the day he had killed the thugs, and he glared.

"Come on darlin', I'll pay ya' better than he does."

"Bet he doesn't even know where to stick it!" one man brayed obnoxiously, looking around at his companions eagerly to see if he had gotten a laugh.

"Spread ya' legs for us, darlin'! Give us a show!"

Gin kept his head down, and kept walking, fury building like a fire in his heart.

Tadayoshi, the chief enforcer, who was sat at his habitual table, stared at them in interest as they walked, his face a blank, calculating mask. It doused the fury for a moment, like a bucket of water, and replaced it with a quiet despair.

He knew that look- it was a look Tadayoshi wore when filing away useful information, a look which seemed innocuous, but which had deeply sinister implications. It was a look which said "Now that I know where to push, I can make you do anything. And I won't forget." The man had held new born infants over open fires and knives at women's most intimate places in order to exact compliance. Gin had seen it first-hand. He did not mess around.

No signs of softness, no signs of weakness; never let them know where your heart lies.

Gin had learnt that from the man himself.

Another of the whores, a woman with black hair that was going silver at the roots and whose cheekbones sat high and proud on her face, eyed her companions contemptuously. "Brat's too fuckin' young to get it up, ya' creeps."

"Girl's not though, is she, Kanae-chan?" One of the men grinned, and cast a hungry look in Rangiku's direction. "You'd know that better than anyone, eh?"

"That doesn't even make a lick of fuckin' sense. Don't have anythin' to 'get up', shit-for-brains, do I?" the whore called Kanae said haughtily, her lip curling in disgust. The man's attention snapped to her, and his fists clenched.

Her words temporarily shifted attention away from the children, and Gin seized the opportunity to grab Rangiku and dart around the corner and into freedom. Only Tadayoshi's dispassionate gaze had lingered on them.

Gin's hand fumbled quickly for hers.

"Nice bunch," he said in an attempt at a breezy, non-committal tone. Instead it came out strained and panicked. "Cream o' society, really."

"Gin..." she started.

"I should kill 'em," he said abruptly, running his other hand through his hair. The fact that they had seen them together, that they had pin-pointed immediately that she was important to him, that they knew where to hit to hurt him, that he was now vulnerable- he could not let it stand. He kept on walking quickly, dragging her along with him. "The things they said about ya'-"

 "Gin-" she repeated again, louder.

His panic and his fury were building. "It'll be easy," he said in a bid of childish self-delusion, working through the logistics for murder in his head. "It'll only be Tadayoshi that's difficult, and we'd have to leave afterwards, but-"

"Gin!" She wrenched her hand from his. "Calm down!"

When he turned to look at her, his ice-blue eyes seemed blank, but she could almost hear the gears in his brain whirring with anxiety.

"Everything is fine," she said resolutely.

He hissed through his teeth. "Rangiku, ya' don't know what that man is capable of."

"So what?" she said calmly.

His brain stopped. "What?" he said blankly.

"A bunch of people saw us walking together. That's all."

He felt hot desperation twisting in his chest. She could not be that naive, surely? "It's not as simple as that."

"Why not?"

Gin had never personally suffered Tadayoshi's particular brand of cruelty, never having particularly cared about anyone before her, but he had seen its consequences, and it filled him with dread.

He looked at her beseechingly, begging her not to make him put into words what was so obvious. "He'll hurt ya' to make me do what he wants," he said quietly.

She look she gave him was a gentle one, but pitying at the same time. "Gin," she said, "I don't think you're thinking straight."

He looked at her as if she’d gone mad, but took a deep breath to steady himself. "What do ya' mean?" he asked, breathing slowly through his nose.

She cupped her hands and closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them, her hands were filled with a delicate, flickering light. Her power, a once volatile and hesitant thing, had been growing stronger and more stable with every lesson. When she looked at him, her eyes were filled with implicit meaning and her smile was low and cunning.

"He doesn't know what we're capable of."

His mouth was dry.

"Ran-chan, ya' a genius."

“We’re small, but we can take ‘em if we ever need to. You and me.” She grinned, and the reiatsu in her hands faded. "You just weren't thinking straight. We're stronger than he is. We'll be fine.”

He felt somewhat mollified, but irritation still pricked at him like a thorn in his side. He resumed his pacing, back and forth, like clockwork.

"It's not fine."

She looked at him in exasperation. "What now?".

He felt weirdly agitated still, and shook his head. "Those things they said about ya'- I don't like 'em."

"They said them about you too," she pointed out in frustration. He waved a hand dismissively.

"That don't matter. Ya' shouldn't have to hear such things. It's disrespectful."

She snorted.

"What?" he asked, distracted.

"It's not the first time I've heard them and it won't be the last," she said simply.

His eyes narrowed. "Tell me who did it."

"Too many people to count! You can't just go around beating up everyone who says something horrible to me!"

"Can't I?" he said, and his eyes flashed dangerously.

"No!" she said.

"Why not?"

"Because half the men in the district would be on the list, for starters."

"So what?" he said flatly.

She snorted again, like it was a splendid joke, but there had been no humour in his voice.

(He approached such things with a childish simplicity, borne of the horrors of growing up in one of the roughest districts in Rukongai. She was his only friend in the world, and she was his. She represented the sum and total of everything that mattered to him; no degree of violence, no amount of blood shed would be too much if it was given for her sake.

It was pathological; it was possessive; it was ferocious- but it was steadfast and true. No ugly deed would be too much if it was done for her.)

"Is that the shop?" she asked, attempting to distract him by changing the subject.

He let the subject drop reluctantly, cottoning on to her ploy immediately. She was never as subtle as she thought she was being. There was no door, only a faded red rag which might once have been a curtain.

“What are we getting again? Eggs, soy, garlic- bones for broth?” she asked.

“No soy- we still have some left. We don’t need garlic either. Found some growing in the woods last week, which should do us for a while,” he said, pushing aside the rag. “Broth sounds good though- nice idea, Ran-chan.”

The shopkeeper, he of the infamous squashed tomato nose, looked up sharply when they entered, and his eyes narrowed at once when he saw who it was.

“Afternoon, Mr Shop Keep,” Gin said cheerily, his mouth stretched into a cheerful grin. “How’s ya’ girl?” he asked, his face the picture of innocence.

(The last Gin had seen of the shop keeper, his girlfriend had been sleeping around on the side, and Gin had revelled in bringing it up to the man’s face.)

The man’s eyes flashed with hatred, until they lit on Rangiku. A smile of beatific satisfaction spread across his face, as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

“Only one brat allowed in the shop at a time,” he announced, unable to keep his smile from curling into a satisfied sneer.

Gin’s own smile gained a somewhat fixed look. “What?” he asked mildly.

“You heard what I said. She leaves or you both leave. Only one brat allowed in the shop at a time. Don’t want no brats stealing my goods.”

Gin’s expression remained mild, but Rangiku saw his fists clench almost imperceptibly. That was the thing about Gin- the smile made it hard to ever get a feel for what he was thinking, but there were tells if you knew where to look, and she, if no one else, always knew where to look. It had been a trying day.

“Didn’t know ya’ were that rich, Mr Shop Keep, that ya’ could afford to turn business away like that. How ya’ getting’ the extra money?” he taunted.

But there was nothing he could do; he was, loath though he was to admit it, completely in the other man’s power. Devoid of other options, he decided call the man’s bluff. “Come on, Ran-chan. Let’s go.”

“Good riddance,” the shop keeper spat.

“Wait!” Rangiku said hurriedly. She looked Gin in the eyes and lowered her voice. “This is the only shop in town that sells food. I can wait outside for five minutes. I’ll be okay.”

GIn’s smile dropped immediately. “Ya’ know it’s not safe out there by ya’self.”

“We need the food,” she argued. “And you know that I’m not defenceless. I can handle it. It’ll be five minutes. Seriously, Gin.”

He did not like it one bit. He gritted his teeth.

“Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. “But if anythin’ happens, scream, and I’ll come and get ya’. Always try runnin’ before hittin’ back. Use ya’ power as a last resort.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll not be long.”

It was turning out to be quite the horrible little trip into town, he thought, and he turned to the shop keeper with the nastiest smile he could muster, keen to take out his frustration on the man.

“Aaaah,” Rangiku heard, “I know why ya’ girl has been with Nakamura-san! Ya’ must be getting’ extra money from somewhere, right? What a clever girl! What’s she charging? Beautiful girl like that- she’ll be a popular one!”

She drew the curtain closed behind her, and went to sit down on the dirty stoop in front of the shop. Her legs were tired from all the walking.

Really, she thought with impatience, we wouldn’t be having this problem at all if Gin could learn to keep his stupid mouth shut.

Despite his warnings, the street was mostly empty, and the sun was getting lower and lower in the sky with every minute, and it was beginning to fill with the washed out oranges and purples of evening.

She rested her chin on her hands, and looked out.

Does he go out of his way to poke and needle at everyone?, she wondered idly.

Not for the first time, she wondered why it was that she was exempt from the worst of his behaviour, what it was that spared her from his crueller taunts and jibes. He enjoyed ruffling her feathers and annoying her, but it was never cruel, and always more mischievous than malicious.

He liked to test boundaries, to see what she would do, but he would never hurt her and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t enjoy his teasing deep down. Even if only very deep down.

She sighed.

“Why are ya’ with the brat?”

She jerked upwards, her eyes with sudden fear, but as she cast about frantically from the source of the voice, she saw that it was only one of the whores from earlier, leaning sullenly against a wall several feet away. Kanae, she recalled- the foul-mouthed one with the greying hair. Her yukata must have once been a bright scarlet, but it had faded to a dull orange red. It was well maintained, though, with neat needlework patching up holes and tears.

“Why are ya’ with the brat?” the whore repeated quietly, her eyes narrow and intense and bearing down upon her.

“We live together,” Rangiku said, disconcerted by the question.

“Since when?” she demanded.

“I don’t know-“ Rangiku stumbled. “A while. A year? Maybe almost two? What’s it to you, anyway? Do you know him?”

The whore waved her questions aside with a dismissive hand and came closer, until her face was only inches from hers.  Rangiku shrank back, but there was no room to retreat. “How did ya’ come to live with him?”

Something about her abrasive manner and the intensity of her questioning was incredibly off-putting.

“He- he found me. Collapsed on the road. He gave me a dried persimmon to eat, and took me home until I woke up. He let me stay after that.” Rangiku’s fists curled up in her yukata.

Kanae’s eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed in thought. “Did he now?” she said, and her voice was low. Rangiku was completely thrown.

“Yes,” she gritted out, eager to get away. “What is it to you?”

For the first time in conversation, Kanae noticed her questions. “Nothing,” she snapped. “Lovely, sweet little girl, fat on ya’ bones and sunshine in ya’ hair- precious girl like ya’ has to be careful in a town like this. Why has he left ya’ alone?” Her eyes flicked to the shop’s entry and back, and her lip curled.

Rangiku’s temper flared then, and she sought desperately to defend him. “I can look after myself!” she said childishly.

The whore looked at her disdainfully. “I’m sure,” she said, and it reeked of a lack of sincerity. She crouched down until her face was level with Rangiku’s, and for the first time Rangiku got a good look at her face. Despite the gray in her hair, her face was smooth and unlined, her cheekbones high and her eyes up-tilted. She was young. There was a word for good looks like hers, but Rangiku was so thrown that she was struggling to bring it to mind. Her eyes wandered to her hair, so long and so sleek.

The whore bent forwards, until her lips were almost pressed against Rangiku’s ear. Rangiku’s heart battered her chest, and she was almost scrabbling to escape when the whore whispered, and Rangiku’s eyes, blue as rain-soaked forget-me-nots, went wide.

“Listen,” the whore hissed. “Where do you think the white rice you’re gettin’ fat on comes from? The coins in ya’ purse? The world is not fluffy rice and bone broth. The boy is dangerous, and you’ll see ruin before the end, girl. This cannot end well. Mark my words. He’ll leave, and then what will ya’ do? Ya’ gonna join the rest of us in the street, sucking cock?”

Her voice was slow and steady and spoke with the unbroken, certain rhythms of prophecy. Rangiku’s heart hammered in her chest

“But I’ll give ya’ this- one favour. A kindness. That’s all ya’ll get from me, and then I’ll be done with ya’, and good riddance.”

The whore’s glance flew suddenly to the curtain, and she stood abruptly, turning on her heel and striding up the street. She did not look back.

 “You heard what I said,” she called back.

And then Rangiku was alone again, her eyes wide and fearful, watching the whore, Kanae’s, back grow smaller and smaller.

“Who was that?” Gin asked, his eyes narrowed, a bag strung clumsily over his arms. Her mouth was dry.

“No one,” she replied quietly, looking at him. “It was no one. Take me home.”

[letgraysonsheart]

Day Six/April 13th - Rain

A memory Damian thought was long forgotten emerges, of a time when everything was alright and he still had Grayson.

A/N: This is set before Dick comes back from being undercover, but after Damian came back from the dead. 

The sun is shining harsh and unrelentless on his face as he steps out on the patio. There is not a cloud to be seen, the Gotham sky looks almost an unnatural blue colour. The air, even as far from the city as the manor is, is never usually something that can be categorised as clean and fresh. Yet those are the words that comes to Damian’s mind as he walks towards the old wooden swing.

The swing is hanging from a thick branch on an old tree. It's one of those threes that have big roots and seems too have been standing there forever. Damian recalls seeing it in one of the old, very odd, family pictures that his father for some reasons insists to keep up in the manors halls. A cluster of Waynes in nice old-fashioned clothes, with somber expressions, all staring into the camera. His forefathers, which he's never felt connected too even as he walks their halls and eats at their dining table, all had the same jet-black hair and serious eyebrows.

The swing is one of the only signs that a child having has ever lived at the manor, at least if looked on from the outside.

The old wood creeks as Damian sits down on it. Bits of the old white rope that connects it to the tree falls off and sticks to his hand as he brushes over it to get a better grip.

Even if the swing is rarely used, there is a dented pitch of brown under it where the ground has been worn from countless children’s feet hitting it. It rained yesterday, and the brown mud has yet to completely dry. Some of it covers the tip of his red sneakers as he dips his foot down in it.

He slowly tests if the swing will hold him as he moves back and forth.

A memory he thought was long forgotten emerges.

Richard was the first one who had invited him to use the old swing. It had been a day not much different from today. The sky had cleared after a few days of heavy rain. They had both been tired and on edge after days of coming home from tense patrols, drenched to the bone.

He and Grayson were back then still new to the whole partner thing. Damian had not been in Gotham for too long, and was still heavily influenced by his upbringing in the League. It did not help that Richard, even if he tried to hide it, was both uncomfortable and insecure under the heavy cowl of the Bat. Damian had not been merciless in his critique of his older brother. He too had been unsure and insecure himself. He hadn't known any other method of reaching out to Grayson, besides with cruel words and too honest observations.

“Why are you dragging me here?” Damian remembers saying, most to fill the silence and to make sure Grayson knew his discomfort. Richard had interrupted him while he had been cleaning his katana, making sure the blade was sharp enough.

“Come on, it’s a beautiful day! We can’t sit here, stuck inside this dark cave all day,” Richard had exclaimed and Damian had known, even then, that arguing was a lost cause. He had huffed and scowled, but still followed Grayson up the stairs.

It had, in fact, been a beautiful day. Damian of course, had refused to admit that to Grayson.

The older had lead him through the mansion, out the glass door and towards the swing.

“No way, Grayson, we are not children in need of play,” he had said the moment he laid eyes on the swing.

“Come on, Dami-” the stupid nickname had earned Richard a scoff from him but the older continued nonetheless, “- all Wayne’s have used this swing. Used it to proved their amazing skills, flown higher than anyone before them!” Dick had exclaimed, throwing his arm out in a big movement as if that would make his point better. He had been walking backwards, his face towards Damian and his back towards the swing.

“I highly doubt ALL Wayne’s could’ve have swung from this unsturdy piece of wood. I refused to believe it’s that old, the Wayne-line goes very far back,” Damian had said, kicking the ground. Dick had frozen in his movement, his suntanned arms falling back to rest at his sides.

There had been a small silence.

“Your father did,” Richard had said. Something odd with his voice, something that Damian couldn’t decipher at that point. Grief, Damian had realised much later, when he had learned to read the older man better. Grief, with a hint of bitterness.

“Well, I guess I will have to prove myself, if only to show myself superior,” Damian had said. He had then made his way over to stand under the branch. Then and there he wasn’t sure why he had indulged Grayson. Maybe it was to put a stop to the awful silence. Later he recognised it as one of the first steps of what would be their strong partnership. Their brotherhood.

He had plopped down, and kicked his feet at the ground. Damian remembered the feeling of embarrassment when the swing barely moved, besides swinging a little to the side. The whole thing felt clumsy and odd. Embarrassment was something Damian was quite familiar with at the time, as he still was completely new to so much others deemed normal. It was just another feeling he masked in anger and cockiness.

“There is something wrong with this machine,” Damian had uttered. He had refused to meet Richard’s eyes.

“Damian, have you never used a swing like this before?” Richard had asked, his whole body screaming caution. He had been afraid of Damian’s reaction. Damian hadn’t answered. The silence had said enough.

Richard didn’t comment anything else. He didn’t push or pull or force Damian to admit to not knowing, he had only started moving. Damian had figured it was to leave, and had felt disappointed. Not that he would admit that to anyone, even now. His thoughts were telling him that Grayson had realised it wasn’t worth his time to teach a broken pre-teen how to use something as mundane as a swing.

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Richard had surprised him.

A quite embarrassing sound had left his mouth, sounding much like a surprised yelp, as strong hands pushed at his back. He swung upwards, then back. His feet swinging with the momentum.

Another push.

He was flying. His stomach was swirling, and even if he tried he couldn’t keep himself from smiling. Richard had been laughing.

The sun had been shining, and felt warm in his face. Damian had left himself close his eyes and live in the moment for a few seconds. He had basked in the feeling of being safe.

Now Damian uses his feet, back and forth, and gains speed as he swings. There is no one to push him. He is much bigger, he has done this before, he does not require any help. He gets higher than before, without anyone helping him. Not father nor Alfred would be adequate to perform the task anyway. It had always been their thing, his and Richards.

Not anymore.

For a few seconds he can see over the white fence, squaring in a small part of the big Wayne manor garden. He continues gaining speed, seeing even more of the closed in area.

He can see the stones from as the top of his swing. The grey row, with flowers some more beautiful than others in front of them. Some stones old, weathered down by the years. Others, more new with words that hurt more than the others.

Richard was never supposed to be captured in a space like that. He would feel like it was too small, and with too little room to move. Not that he could move anymore. Or even care. Grayson was never supposed to be so still, six feet underground in a wooden casket.

Damian stops his movements. Holds onto the ropes as his speed slows down again, not swinging back and forth as fast as before. His feet hits the ground more, and it makes stutters in his movement. The mud covers even more of his shoes, Alfred will in no doubt greet him with a sigh when he reenters the manor.

As he comes to a stop, blinking furiously away something that is not tears, he realises it has gotten darker. As he steps out from the shadow of the tree, he sees that the sky has in fact greyed again. The sun seems to only have been allowed to shine for that small amount of time.

The air seems heavy again, familiar, like it has been the last weeks since he came back home. Much like the air that has filled the halls of the manor in his absence. Something dark that has been looming over him since he first heard of what had become of Grayson.

The sky now matches his current emotions. It will in no doubt start to rain soon, if not today then tomorrow. It will be harsh and careless, in that way only Gotham weather manages to be.

Good, Damian thinks as he kicks the wood on the swing. It breaks in two, not surprisingly, as it’s been there for so long no doubt worn down over time by use and by weather. The pieces of wood fall to the ground, into the brown patch. The ropes now hangs pointlessly in the air, rundown and slack.

[awholeotherlevel]

Crime Diary-Chapter 2

By Camille Scott

The night I met Plum, she took me home.  I was a little ashamed for her to see the neighborhood I lived in, but then I was sure I’d never see her again.  My fingers were on the door handle when Plum reached out and briefly touched my leg.  She meant it as a sincere gesture of friendship.

I fumbled with the door handle, mumbling about the lateness of the hour.  She produced a business card.  Her friend Kenji would be in the next day, if I decided to give him a call about the property.  Plum was so nonchalant about it that I didn’t feel the least bit awkward about accepting the card.

I went up to the dingy hole that passes as my apartment, thankful that my landlord’s light wasn’t on.  He would be knocking on my door soon enough.  The end of the month was drawing perilously close.  I went upstairs, sat on my worn couch and savored my first encounter with Plum.  Tomorrow, I’d be a pumpkin again.

I got up and strode to my cramped bathroom.  Using my sleeve to swipe at the toothpaste spattered mirror only succeeded in smudging it.  A dampened bath towel from the heap at my feet did the trick.  I scrubbed the mirror until it squeaked, before leaning towards the reflective surface, peering with comic intensity.  What did Plum see, when she looked at me?

I wanted to believe that I had an air of accidental coolness about me.  You know, the just-threw-something-on sort of stylishness.  My reflection pained me.  What I had actually achieved was a dopey, mom-picks-my clothes look.  No matter how hard I attempt to look mature, my face always betrays me.  Somehow, it always manages to retain an air of young gullibility.  My doe-like eyes intensify the effect.

No wonder con artists and social misfits are drawn to me.  My face is like an open invitation.  Plum was definitely not a social misfit.  I realized that Plum might have ulterior motives and then quickly banished the thought, telling myself not to ruin a good thing with negative thoughts.  You see, my doubt-infested mind rebels against anything positive.

Whenever someone is nice to me or something good happens to me, I automatically look for the catch, because there always seems to be one.  Call it paranoia if you’d like, but I see it as safeguarding my feelings.  Someone does something nice and then the next words out of his/her mouth are usually something like, “Oh by the way, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mid doing me a little favor.”

Since I have a fear bordering on the pathological of disappointing people, I usually wind up doing whatever they ask.  You’d think I would be accustomed to being used by now.  It shouldn’t even bother me anymore but it does.  I’m angry with myself, long after the person has forgotten the favor.  That’s just how I am.

Other people don’t seem to give a second thought to things that keep me awake at night.  That’s my biggest problem.  I over think everything.  It’s the curse of having an overactive imagination.  Sometimes, I wish I could just switch off my brain.  If I could do that for an hour or so a day, then I’d never need to take a vacation.

That night, I decided for once in my life to just go with the flow.  I glared at my reflection and resolved not to analyze every little thing.  If Plum never spoke to me again, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.  I repeated the thought out loud for good measure.  Even as my lips formed the words, my heart knew it wasn’t  true. 

If I’m going to make sense of the bind that I allowed Plum to get me into, then I really ought to be completely honest.  I have thought about it before.  You know, the big “S,” last call, skydiving without a parachute, stop the world I’m getting off.  But I’d never have the guts to actually go through with it.

Thinking about suicide mostly satisfied the drama queen in me.  Whenever I get depressed enough to entertain the thought, I mostly fantasize about the guilt that my family would feel.  It’s the ultimate in having the last word.  Of course, with my luck I’d do it and no one would even notice that I was gone.

I seem to have that effect, or rather lack of effect, on people.  Someone could be sitting in the same room with me and forget that I was there.  All that was going to change, now that I had Plum.  I turned away from the mirror and moved to stand just outside of the bathroom, puzzling over a way to make myself look more mature and sophisticated.

I stalked to the bedroom and flung open my closet.  There had to be something in there halfway decent.  It didn’t take long to work through every piece of clothing I owned.  Everything was out of date, frumpy, too tight, or had some indelible stain in an obvious place.  I’m kind of accident prone with my clothes.  Maybe that’s why I couldn’t recall the last time I’d actually bought something to wear.

I hate shopping for clothes.  Getting undressed and trying things on in a drafty dressing room is a nuisance.  Then the clothes I pick out never look quite as nice as they do on the mannequin.  Even when I manage to find something that looks like it might work, I wind up balking at the price tag and shoving it back on the rack.

When you have to count every penny like I do, buying new clothes seems extravagant.  It’s easy to get by, when you never get invited anywhere.  On weekends, a big outing for me is a trip to the grocery store or the mall.  So I keep clothes until I wear a hole in them or the seams start unraveling.  Even then, I don’t throw them out.  They usually become pajamas. My mother teases me about it.

“One of these days, you’ll wind up naked on the bus because you’ll sneeze and your whole outfit will disintegrate.”

At work the next day, I fished the business card out of my purse.  It was still scented with Plum’s sumptuous perfume--a blend of white musk, flowers, and spices.  For the thousandth time that day, I wondered what she was doing.  Should I call her friend? What would I say if I worked up enough nerve?  Maybe if I called him and set up an appointment, she would be there.

That was silly.  Why would she be hanging around this guy’s place of business?  Someone like her had plenty of important things to do.  If anything, the man probably hung around Plum.  I daydreamed about running into her again.  Maybe I could invite Plum to lunch.  Would it be devastating, if she blew me off?  I tucked away the card and tried to forget about Plum.

The days crawled by and nights seemed endless.  The paltry amount of my paycheck was a nasty shock.  It would only cover my groceries for the coming week.  That was without anything extra, just the barest necessities.  It looked like another week of lunchmeat and salty canned goods.

I could forget about paying rent or utilities.  I hadn’t seen a check that small since I was a teenager bagging groceries at the corner store in my neighborhood.  Asking my boss Mr. Canfield about it would do more harm than good.  I was having a run of bad luck.  Sales were few and far between.  No one was buying any of the rundown properties I had on my books.

He didn’t trust me with any of the nice properties in decent neighborhoods.  Just kept claiming that I was too green.  Despair came home to roost and I gave myself over to it.  I was determined not to sell the locket though, seized with the irrational fear that doing so would signal the end of my dreams.

I had already sold off my television set.  Next went my prized computer.  As long as I kept the locket, I’d be able to reassure myself that I hadn’t hit rock bottom.  How may failed attempts would that make?  I had too many plans to move back home with my tail between my legs.

The thought of my sister dismissing my dreams with a smug, “I told you so” made me physically ill.  I couldn’t let her win.  The two of us had always been competitive.  When I moved into my own apartment and left her living at home saddled with two kids and no husband, she could have spit fire.

No one in my family understands me or my ambition.  To them, I’m a dreamer.  Any attempts to discuss dreams with my family are met with indulgent smiles.  My mother wants me to settle down, get married and allow my husband to take care of me while I shoot out babies like a Pez dispenser.  In desperate moments, that image has almost been inviting.

That isn’t what I want for myself though.  I could never be happy sitting around the house wondering about what might have been.  I grew up watching her waste the best years of her life working every day and then rushing home to hover anxiously at my dad’s elbow.  She’d dash about all evening, attending to his every whim.

Devotion seems to have a crippling effect.  It impairs your common sense.  My mother can’t seem to grasp the fact that dad will never be satisfied.  The more she does for him, the more he expects.  It’s a never-ending cycle.  If that is the sacred institution of marriage, then maybe it isn’t for me.

I want to have a family...eventually.  I just want to make sure that I’ve achieved a few goals first.  Otherwise, I could never be happy.  There would always be that doubt gnawing away at my insides.  Could I or couldn’t I have been successful?  It wouldn’t be fair to bring children into the world and not be prepared to make them my priority.  I never want to resent my children.

It sounds cold, but that’s how I feel.  Children absorb a lot of time, energy, and money.  In my frustrated mind, they would come to symbolize barriers to my dreams.  At times, the way my father looked at me made me wonder if that wasn’t what he saw when he looked at us; barriers to his happiness.  Like, if my mom hadn’t gotten pregnant with my sister, when they were young, he might not have married her and settled for a nine-to-five life.

My pitiful paycheck made me pick up the phone and contact Kenji. That call changed my life forever.  Funny how you rarely grasp the significance of some things while you’re experiencing them.  I made an appointment to meet with him after work.  That way, there wouldn’t be enough time for me to lose my nerve.

[human-zim]

this is peak Tumblr drama. people demonizing each other after they break up, the source of the breakup not really clear at all, it goes on and on and on as they gain followers to rally against each other.. forced to pick a side, etc

HAREM MEMBER I can NOT believe how wrong you are. You must be new, so let me give you the FULL RUNDOWN OF SKOODGE AND I’S RELATIONSHIP (as much as I can recall, which knowing how great I am is EVERYTHING) under the cut:

- SKOODGE and I used to be best friends. ROOMMATES and PALS. It was so long ago, yet so recent...I’d say somewhere in March or April of this year, if you want go by the Gregorian calendar 

- However I LOVED SKOODGE, inexplicably, unreasonably, that fat bastard had my heart. He was annoying! And a loser! But he was MY annoying loser. I would defend his honor with a passion

- I NEVER SAID this. Why would I? I did not WANT it to be true, I did not WANT anyone to know this! I have recently COME AROUND (after a discussion with @hi-im-tak) to this thing called EMOTIONS, however, and apparently I have lots of them. So I am open with this information NOW but not back then

- SKOODGE! That SCOUNDREL! After I had so RESPONSIBLY HELD MY TONGUE, guess what he did? HE SPILLED HIS GUTS OUT, ALL OVER THE CARPET. He just-! CONFESSES-! Sloppily, messily, ill-planned - like he had the right to the comfort of sharing one’s feelings - that HE TOO, HAD FEELINGS FOR ME, ZIM!! And Let me Tell You I Was LIVID. I was ANGRY. My THERAPIST told me that I was EMBARRASSED, TOO, which spurred some of the anger, but BAH!! 

- I told that man I told him, I said “fuck you SKOODGE, you scoundrel you, look at what you’ve done” not VERBATIM but something like that. I believe he was sad about it

- all of a sudden EVERYONE WAS UP IN ARMS ABOUT IT!! Keep in mind, this was right after a set of individuals both known and unknown had been coercing me to, “come on ZIM, just tell SKOODGE you love him, you deserve each other, you deserve to be happy”... and right when I was coming around to the idea of it, getting ready, weighing my odds - that BITCH SKOODGE JUMPS IN AND DOES THAT and those SAME PEOPLE were then like “OH, ZIM, you were too harsh-!” “OH, ZIM, you need to apologize!” They were all thinking that I was SO MEAN TO SKOODGE when I rightfully called out his faults...but what they didn’t get was that it was, as the word goes, SWEET of me to say all of those things because I still loved him anyway...He was a loser, and that was just SKOODGE. So What? I didn’t care, But evidently SKOODGE did, and was all “”SAD””” that I said those things and EVERYONE was tellin me to apologize!! AS IF ZIM WOULD EVER!!!

- SKOODGE is resilient THAT IS HIS NATURE. He is not one to BREAK over silly things, and that is why I can say What he Is...he will bounce back. but if he DOES break, he GETS BACK UP AGAIN. And that’s what he did. HE GOT BACK UP ALRIGHT. Somewhere in him he SPURRED this, this, this - INCONSOLABLE CONFIDENCE that would NOT let me speak. He wrangled apologies out of me - everyone did - but I was still slighted, so I gave him the occasional insult myself. But I Apologized. Did He Forgive, Though? Did He?...

- I thought I could hold my own, I am ZIM, after all. I was not going to be controlled by this...I am ZIM and he is SKOODGE, I house him and care for him, he is a FRIEND. But he never relented to me, he never forgave, he never gave me an absolute “It’s Okay, ZIM, I forgive you for saying the accurate things you always say and also my previous ill-planned confession still stands.” No. None of that. And I found myself apologizing more and more. The insults...the apt statements...lost their fire. I was no longer weaving around the apology - no- I was SAYING IT, Up Front, and I was SAYING, UP FRONT, “I love you, SKOODGE.” I did not realize at the time, it was all happening so fast - SKOODGE was no longer giving me the time of day, and I was slipping down a hole. A manhole, a Sewer hole, with the rats. I was growing desperate.

- I asked, sometimes, on here. I asked Why, and my speech implied my troubles. I still got the same old responses - “You just gotta be nicer, ZIM!” “You just got to apologize, have a heart to heart, you’re hurt but he is too.” But I KNOW SKOODGE, if he was not willing to talk he WOULDN’T, and he is so much STRONGER that everyone was pegging him to be. I APOLOGIZED. I WAS NICE. he would humor me, sometimes, FINALLY relieving my mounting stresses, but he was gone before I knew it. And I followed. I followed! ZIM! A follower!

- He had grown SO COLD. I was MISSING my friend SKOODGE, MISSING my love and my roommate, I had had to come to terms with it then - I MISSED him, I LOVED him, and I APOLOGIZED - what else was I supposed to do?! He had become inconsolable. I don’t know what he was doing - RECLAIMING HIS LIFE, AFTER LIVING AS AN UNDERDOG FOR SO LONG? RELISHING IN THE POWER, OF HAVING SOMEONE CRAVE AFTER HIM? But being an underdog- that’s just SKOODGE. Acknowledging the will of others - that’s just SKOODGE. What was the problem? Why did he feel the need to seek this POWER after living as a shamelessly self-loving HELPER for so long? What changed?

- I have spoken with two - TWO - people privately on here about this...guess what they told me? Can you guess? “Just go talk to him ZIM, just talk about it!” but no no NO, couldn’t they see? It wasn’t up to me anymore! SKOODGE had all the power, ZIM had lost it!! SKOODGE had stolen it all from him after ZIM was a fool enough to show him his heart. He had me hanging on to every last word of his. It was never a lot - a word there, greeting here, just so cold, so distant. Wasn’t even AROUND half the time and he never told me where he was going. He shot an arrow at me once. Sure, I had done it to him, but in the name of SCIENCE and after he had consented to my vaguely described weapon trial run. You can shoot arrows at each other and still be friends - we had BOTH suffered worse. But it was how it made me FEEL - yes, FEEL. I was pulling the arrowhead out of my skin, and absolutely LOVING IT. I was LOVING the ATTENTION I was finally getting from him. he had ignored my messages ignored my greetings so this - arrowhead - meant the world to me. 

- after the Arrow Incident I REALIZED that I was GONE. I was an EMPTY SHELL. What kind of invaderHuman Person LIKED to get hit with arrows? I had no control over my own home anymore, my own feelings, my own actions. My AUTONOMY - GONE. I was LIVING for this ugly motherfucker who lived in my vents and bred rats!! The ABSURDITY made me want to VOMIT once I finally realized it. But I couldn’t say anything. I COULDN’T. Not only would he just ignore me, but I was afraid of something worse than that. I was afraid that he’d leave.

- I know SKOODGE I know IrkensPeaople Humans and I KNOW how the cycle of power goes, Believe Me. You live it! You bore! And you walk. I was just TERRIFIED of the day SKOODGE realized that he was bored of me - he was staying out of MORBID CURIOSITY ALONE, I could tell, since he seemed to be living so well without me. I DENIED this at first and tried to give myself MORE POWER - I was like, OH, he is in MY HOUSE, he NEEDS me, and OH, he uses MY supplies, he must NEED me, but in reality...it didn’t matter at all. It wasn’t about me, and he didn’t need my stuff. He was just using it all. Cause it was convenient. Cause I was letting him, although I had no say in the matter any more - it was his. he stole it. He stole it all. And it was just a matter of time before he bored of me scrambling after him like a RAT IN THE SEWER, SEARCHING FOR THAT SWEET SWEET SUNLIGHT BY THE MANHOLE IN THE STREET IN WHICH HE ENTERED!! It was just a matter of time before he walked out with his bright pink thigh high platform heels, walked right on out of my life.

- BITCH ANON saved my life on this. After this was all clear to me, I realized that WAIT, I WAS ZIM, I am POWERFUL and ALMIGHTY and I shouldn’t have to live at the heels of those bright pink boots!! I shouldn't be fixin to get stomped on because it was all the attention I could get out of him!! BITCH ANON was the only one who gave me some solid advice at this point: they told me to THROW DOWN WITH SKOODGE and TAKE BACK WHAT WAS MINE. SKOODGE STILL IGNORED ME on this Messaging System but today it all came out..

- What you see today is ME BREAKING AWAY FROM THAT TOXIC BEAST!! He has had me BEGGING FOR BITS AT HIS HEELS for far too long. He is GOLD-DIGGING- HOME-WRECKING- HEART-BREAKING and just downright MANIPULATIVE and I am CURSING him from my home. I have built my HAREM, WITHOUT HIM, which is full of friends who support ME and ONLY ME, and I have appointed my good friend BITCH ANON as TOP BITCH, for they are always there for me, and had been, this whole time.

I am ZIM, AND I BEG AT THE HEELS OF NO MAN!! Especially not bright pink ones!!!

So you See, HAREM MEMBER, there IS a clear source of a break-up and there IS reason to “demonize” SKOODGE...he is a RAT BASTARD who broke my “”heart””” and for that I will never forgive him. It is CRUCIAL that my support system does Not condone that bitch for my own Safety and Well-being, and You, HAREM MEMBER, are no exception...I hope this was informative as to the intricacies of ZIM and why he absolutely will not tolerate SKOODGE-lovers in his HAREM :)

[247krp]

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Oh Heejun, spotted prancing about in the Northeast Side. I don’t remember seeing him with any clique back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say ambitious and kind? Apparently now he spends time as a waiter at Nocturnal Music Club, student and a forensics investigator in training, and keeps skeletons buried at Banjeom Apartments, 501. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Lilac; we missed you so.

TW: mental disorder, mention of death

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

Heejun has always been a bookworm, a helpful and optimistic boy. He took extra classes in high school, and advanced science classes, falling in love with chemistry. Although people liked to be around him, either to take advantage or actually be his friend, there were some who hated his guts. One of them was certainly GG, who had to search every unwanted corner to find something negative about a predominantly positive person. Heejun admired their perseverance in a way, and never spoke ill about them. After months, they finally found some old records from Heejun’s therapy sessions. Those described his memory loss, his hard condition at home and between the lines, his mother’s disappearance. Heejun’s subtle but strange obsessions led GG to think that he suffers from a mental disorder due to his memory loss, and poverty. She called it OCD, and because of his obsession with lilac, she gave him that name. The rumours affected some of his relationships at school, people started to be more careful around him, some dissing him because of his so-called disease. But Heejun never got affected by it, not even when his P. E. teacher shamed him in front of the whole class. He wore his smile, and kept his mind occupied with things he loved, like chemistry. Strangely, his teacher disappeared two weeks after the event, and his words were soon forgotten. He graduated first in his class, and got the chance to obtain a scholarship at a renowned University.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

Heejun is still a student, but he has a bright future ahead. He is admired by his teachers, he works extra hard to enter the field he desires to work in. Luckily, a forensics investigator decided to help him train for the field, thing that has gained Heejun quite a respectable reputation. However, his financial situation is still shaky, so he has to work in order to support his studies. His grandparents can only give him this much, they are both old and only his grandmother still works. Heejun’s dream is to earn enough to help his grandparents, as he owes them his life. Once he has a stable job, he can start to pay for his therapy sessions, and finally pay for a way to meet Morphius. He keeps his life private, and nobody he knows seems to care too much, especially because his kind personality overshadows all negative things that might lurk beneath the surface.

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

Touched by the heavy wings of fate, Heejun was born in a poor house, barely surviving his first winter. His mother carried him at her chest from house to house, imitating the Christmas story, until she laid down in the snow and cried. He was all she had, the only reason she kept going, the only reason she was still trying. And in a flicker of hope, he found her, on the streets begging like Maggie for a new home. Heejun scarcely remembers his rough features and stern voice. Although she fell in love, the boy never approved of his presence. He would cry crocodile tears whenever he stepped closer, and for some unknown reasons he always reacted violently. A part of him blames him for her disappearance. However, his other voice screams that her disappearance just happened. Everything after the age of three until his early teen years was just a blurry past. He had no recurrence of any event, something his doctors called selective amnesia, and his psychologist an awakening. It felt like waking up from a long dream, with no mother, no father, and in the care of two loving grandparents. No event made sense for a long time, he had no idea why he had to go to therapy, no idea why his mother was missing. One thing was, however, certain: at one moment during that period Morphius was born. One single moment determined his decay.

Morphius is what his doctor called his alter ego. Heejun never met him, but he always wanted to. He does not know who met him, he cannot recall anything his alter ego did. For him, it feels like pieces of his memory were intentionally taken out. Nevertheless, the big changes that occurred were in his personality. Despite going through hard times, Heejun remained an impossibly optimistic boy, always smiling and looking for what ifs, for a better solution, for ways to help everyone. Naturally, people took advantage of him, but he never gave up. His quick-witted personality, and abnormal life drive impressed nearly everyone he came in touch with. He has been admired and envied for his motivation and intelligence. Not even the nasty rumours about him brought him down. However, he always feelsan indescribable darkness live within him. Most of the times he chooses to ignore it, for the sake of his sanity and health. He cannot explain it, he cannot explain his violent art. Heejun, the nerdy boy with glasses, the straight A student, would never hurt anyone. But he ‘wondered’ if Morphius would. This question remains ‘unanswered’ for Heejun, and answered by everyone who met Morphius.

Lilac was Heejun’s first coloured pencil, and Morphius’ first victim. A girl in his neighbourhood, who dared call his mother ugly. Morphius was quite active at the age of six, and once Heejun’s parent was shamed, he stepped in. He feels morbidly attracted to his positive alter ego, seeking to touch his reflection, the embodiment of purity. Yes, he is a narcissist, and a protective ‘friend’. He buried the girl under the family’s lilac tree, Heejun’s favourite flower. He knew Heejun will appreciate the disappearance of that annoying burden. He was satisfied, for a while. But Heejun never found the body, Heejun kept ignoring him, Heejun wasignoring him. Morphius felt neglected. His positive alter ego never patted his head and told him sweet nothings. His alter ego never acknowledged him. Youexpect him to be nice? No. From age six to age twelve was show-time. After Morphius got rid of all things that could distract Heejun, he disobeyed all rules. Mentally he was about twenty at that time, despite his small frame and childish smile. Once Heejun woke up, he found the notes he left behind. The only records Heejun actually has, the proof of Morphius’ existence. He hides them, because he does not know what to make of them. Pages, and pages of graphic descriptions, deranged comments and the ending note of I love you, friend. Like most negative things in his life, Heejun put that aside. But if someone would find those, his whole life might and would crumble before him. He lied about them. Yes, Heejun actually lied. Whenever he was asked: Do you remember?, he would answer no. But the pages he has, those are his memories. He just refuses them.

[alia-turin]

This chapter is a bit darker, after all things happen after Noct had already disappeared and we all know how the world looks after that. The game doesn’t really touch (even Comrades) on a lot of the things I imagine happen in Lestallum, like provision shortages etc so I kind of tried to add that here. Hope y’all enjoy, Sorry for the angst. 

Fic Title: Back to Life Chapter number: Act IV Previous Chapters: Act I, Act II, Act III Rating/Warnings: M (sex, swearing, drinking, Tredd) Pairing: Tredd x Reader Summary: Reader has nice a career and wants to grow it, relationships are not her thing so meeting Tredd at a bar turns out to be exactly what she needs after a long day at work. Notes: Story  moves to Lestallum, Noct is already gone so the world is sinking into darkness. I always wanted more canon info on how Lestallum was operating, for the normal people, refugees etc. not just the game characters since I cannot imagine it was a fun place considering everything.

If you feel like supporting this writer consider buying me a coffee: Ko-Fi

Tagging: @birdsandivory @lazarustrashpit @jojopitcher @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @kairakara101 @ladychocoberry @demidemon09  @mysticrainpain @mp938368

It has been one of these long days that you wanted to end as soon as it started. Not that it really mattered, every single day in Lestallum for the past year or so has been the exact same thing. Ever since the darkness happened and people started barricading the city. Going out wasn’t safe and nobody did it unless they had to. Staying in was an absolutely nightmare. It was safe, but wherever you went it was the same faces and you can see the hope vanishing from their eyes with every single day. People had even stopped asking where the young king was.

You were sitting in one of the tents rolling bandages, it was the only thing you had the strength to do. That was your new profession, not rolling bandages but you had learned thing or two about nursing. As it turns out nobody needed an interior designer when the world was ending. Another reminder for you how unprepared you were for a life like that. You often wondered what the point of all that was, you haven’t seen the sun more than two months and it seemed like it would never come around again. At first Lestallum had been a shelter, a place where you hoped that eventually you might rebuild life, but what happens when all life was dying? Lestallum was safe, but you helped in the clinic, you knew what the hunters, crownsguard and leftovers of the glaive were saying. The world was falling into ruins.

At first when you moved to Lestallum you thought you would miss the luxuries in life. Having nice hot bath, gym, hairstylist and clothes that costed more than they should. It wasn’t that, these things are easy to live without after couple of months. The routine was killing you. Nothing was happening. Same people, tired of what life had served them. Sure, every day in the clinic was different. Today someone had broken an arm, the next day someone would come with the flu. But that wasn’t life. Loneliness. That was probably the worst part of it. You never managed to make friends in Lestallum, and everybody you knew from before that was dead. Including him, that bastard.

On days like that you often caught yourself thinking about him. Maybe he got the better deal at the end anyway. He wasn’t sitting here rolling bandages until it was dinner time because there was nothing better to do. Probably lambs at a slaughter house felt better than you since lambs didn’t know what was happening to them, you were aware that if nothing changed, sooner or later you all would be going to the slaughter house.

Your thoughts went to him again. He would call you a spoiled brat and tell you to get a hold of yourself. He has always been right you were a spoiled brat. The only reason you managed to get to Lestallum in the first place is because he told you to do so and you were just stuck here when the darkness came. In a sense he had saved your life and you hated him. Not for saving you but for even having the need to be saved. He was one of the many reasons you were where you were and if he hadn’t died you were going to kill him.

The bandage you were rolling had long been rolled and you left it in the box with the rest. You didn’t want to think about that anymore. You haven’t thought about him in days and now all your thoughts and feelings were rolling in your head like avalanche. Did you still love him? Maybe the thought of him, but you also hated what he did.

You were distracted by shouting coming from outside and decided to check. Maybe there was finally something happening in the monotone day of Lestallum.

You walked just in time to say that Libertus was one of the people shouting, there was a man in front of him that was obviously on the receiving end. Couple more glaives were around them. As you started coming closer, you saw Libertus punching the other man in the gut. The man made a step backwards, his body bending from the hit.

“You were always a stupid dick, Libertus.” The man said and you froze. You were probably going insane, that voice…no it couldn’t be. He was dead. Libertus had seen it, he told you he was dead.

Then the man straightened himself and jumped on Libertus, the other glaives grabbed him and you could finally see him…It was Tredd. Stubble was covering his face and he seemed like he had lost some weight but it was him. He tried to fight the glaives that were holding him, he tried to fight his way to Libertus but it didn’t work.

“Why don’t you tell them to let go of me, huh?” Tredd spat on the ground in front of Lib’s feet. “You are afraid I will rip your fuckin head off. Not so brave when Nyx is not around to save your ass, are you?”

“I don’t have time to deal with you.” Libertus eventually said and started walking away. “Stay around, I’m sure the Marshal would love to chat with you.”

“Yeah I’d gladly tell him as well where he can stick it.” Tredd shouted as the glaives let go of him.

You were standing there finding it hard to believe what was happening. Why was that happening? How was it happening? Tredd noticed you eventually and just stared at you as well.

“Fucking finally someone who is happy to see me.” He said and walked towards you but as soon as he reached you, you slapped him as hard as you could, tears running down your eyes. “What is your fucking problem, what is everyone’s fucking problem?”

“You were dead!” you shouted at him and tried to clean the wetness of your face. It wasn’t tears of grief or happiness, it was tears for everything that had happened so far. Him dying, your life being taken away, living one day for the next without knowing when a demon would just breach the city.

“So, I have been told, feel pretty alive.” he chuckled but there was something sad in his smile. “Come on, I need a rundown on what is happening. I feel like I have massive memory loss.”

You just stared at him wanting to slap him again for your broken heart. You mourned him. You cried for him, and now he was here acting as if he has no idea what was happening. He got you all in that!

You just walked toward the place that you were calling home and you heard his steps after you. He was fucking dead, how was he walking and talking. Sure, there were a lot of people who had vanished under Insomnia and appeared later but…weeks later, not almost two years. Not after someone had seen their dead body. Was Libertus lying? Why would he lie?

Your new home was in one of the older buildings of Lestallum, very small apartment, but it wasn’t like you owned anything to put in it. Just some clothes and that was it.

“You have certainly downgraded.” Tredd said as he walked in and you regretted not having a weapon to just kill him on the spot.

“And whose fault is that?” you kicked one of the two chairs as an invitation for him to sit, he didn’t but you did. “Welcome to my new life, you will be happy to hear I don’t have thirty pairs of overly expensive shoes or a whole drawer with make up. Oh also occasionally I don’t have a meal for couple of days because delivery trucks get attacked by demons and the city is not yet fully self sufficient.”

“How is any of that my fault?” Tredd said absolutely innocent even a bit hurt.

“Really, Tredd? You recall trying to kill the king or something of these lines?” you couldn’t believe it. He had always been stubborn ignorant asshole, but that was beyond him.

“First of all, it was the Captain who did the killing I was otherwise occupied. Second I have massive memory loss and I have no idea what happened between that night in Insomnia and literary three days ago when I just woke up on the side of a road.” He came closer to you grabbing your hands in his almost gently. “Third, if my calculations are correct, I have been out of things for months and judging by the feeling of my balls I haven’t fucked anything in that time so…”

“You should have stayed dead.” You said quietly and pulled your hands away from his. As soon as the words left your mouth you regretted them, but it was too late already.

“Stop being such a bitch? What have I done to you? I told you to leave town, you would be fucking dead if it wasn’t for me.” He got up obviously angry. “Why did I even think you’d be happy to see me? You are most likely riding every fucking cock in that city from the moment you arrived.”

“I mourned you!” you got up kicking the chair behind. “I waited for you, then I started hearing stories about what the Kingsglaive did. About what you did. Then one day I met Libertus and he told me that he saw you dead. Until that moment I was hoping you are alive and just hiding somewhere, but then I realized you were just dead. I mourned you, Tredd, I cried, my heart was broken. I hated you for what you did then I forgave you, then the sun was gone and I hated you again. I tried to forget you. To move on…” your voice broke. Tears were running down your face again and he was just standing there like a statue. “Get out of here!” you shouted at him not wanting to show weakness.

“You know what?” his voice was calm but you could feel the anger. “Fuck you. Go back to riding Libertus’ dick or whoever else you are fucking, I’m done with your ass.”

“I’m not fucking anybody, you ignorant piece of shit!” you shouted after him as he shut the door behind himself.

 Time moved even slower and more painful in Lestallum. Somehow Tredd was always in front of your eyes and people were making sure to point that out to you. You wanted to avoid him, but was impossible. You knew about everything he was doing without actually wanting to find that out. Apparently Libertus brought him to the Marshal. There were several conflicting stories how that went down, and people made sure to tell you every single one of them despite you protesting it. Regardless of what happened in that room, at all ended with Tredd joining the Kingsglaive again. Good for him you thought and returned to your monotone duties in the clinic.

Then it was all the talk about the girls he was flirting on or sleeping with. People would tell you who was the girl they saw him with and then give you the ‘I’m so sorry look’. You weren’t sure if you hated him more or the people who somehow thought that was information you wanted to hear. Turns out you never managed to move on from him, it was just easier not to think about his sorry ass when he was presumed dead. But now he was here, doing what Tredd did and you wished more often than not for a demon to breach these walls and eat him alive. At least like that you can return to silent mourning.

One day as you were walking in the examination room in the clinic, if that tent could be called a room at all, you saw him sitting there, there was a long deep cut on his arm.

“I will call someone else.” You said as your eyes met.

“Why? Scared you will start crying?” he teased you and look for the closest pair of scissors that you can shove in his eye.

“How did that happen.” You were trying to keep your voice completely flat as you reached for bandages and something to clean the wound. It would need stitches as well which was great news since you were low painkillers.

“You know, saving the world.” He chuckled and you raised an eyebrow. It was his fucking fault the world needed saving to begin with. He flinched as you started cleaning the wound but didn’t say anything. Part of you expected that he would call you a bitch and accuse you of causing him pain on purpose, but he didn’t. Tredd just accepted it.

“Heard the Marshal pardoned you.” You said as you started stitching the wound. He was still holding well even if it was obvious he was feeling pain.

“No, he wanted to kill me. Libertus defended me and vouched for me, no idea why.” That was something you didn’t know. “He said I’m useful in a fight and should atone for what I have done. As if I care, ouch!” he shouted as you stuck the needle harder than before. “At first I thought he was really fucking you that’s why he is trying to save my ass.”

“How did you even reach to that conclusion? The only reason I ever talked to Libertus because I saw him in his uniform and wanted to ask what had happened to you. That’s how I met him, the only times he talks to me is when he needs something from the clinic.” You sighed and started bandaging his arm. You had no straight to fight him.

“I was pissed okay?” he raised his voice and you just gave him a tired look. “You said he told you I was dead, and I am obviously not dead. You were angry at me for no reason. I thought…”

“You thought what Tredd? That he seduced me while I was crying over you? Between trying to figure out my life and sobbing over your ass I haven’t had time to figure out who would be invited between my legs.” you checked the bandage and got off the chair you were sitting on. “You are done, you can go. It needs to be changed tomorrow, so make sure you stop by.” You turned around and you were about to leave as he grabbed you by the wrist and squeezed hard. “You are hurting me.” You turned around and looked at him, he wasn’t saying anything, just looking at you and holding your wrist firmly. “Tredd, let go of me.” You repeated trying to free your hand, but you couldn’t.

Eventually he did and started walking toward the exit but then stopped, turned around and pushed you against the examination table making you sit on it.

“Tredd, stop what are you doing…” you moaned as he kissed you and moved his hands on your ass pulling you closer to him.

“Fixing things by trying to fuck you.” He mumbled in your kiss as he started undoing his pants.

“Who said I want you to fuck me?” you said as you pulled your lips away from his, your hands were helping him pull his pants down. “That won’t fix…” you moaned.

“Stop me then.” You didn’t stop him. You are angry with him for everything he had done and messing up your life but you still wanted him and loved him. Funny how two years of living on the essentials makes you brave enough to admit your own feelings at least in front of yourself.

You help him pull his pants down, then you both managed to take yours off and without waiting any further he started fucking you there in the examination room. You moaned louder with each thrust, it has been such a long time and you missed him, feeling him close to you and inside you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder pulling him closer and you had to dig your teeth in his t-shirt since you were getting too loud.

“Fuck, forgot how nice you feel.” He groaned as he picked up his pace pushing you into an orgasm. It has been too long, that made it too easy for to push you over the end. Took him a bit longer to follow you but once he came he didn’t move, you were both just standing there, his arms around your waist, yours around his shoulders.

As soon as some logical thought appeared in your head you knew that was a mistake. Your problems weren’t going to be fixed with sex, although you had to admit you did feel a bit better now. You had to say something, you had to talk to him because he wasn’t going to do it. You doubted that dead made him more aware of his own emotions.

Eventually he pulled out slowly and started buttoning his pants. You did the same in complete silence, words just didn’t come to your mind. You wanted him back, but you weren’t going to beg for it.

“I will see you around when I come for the bandage tomorrow.” He walked toward the entrance and stopped again. You saw his whole body move as he took a deep breath, held it and then his shoulders sank as if he wanted to say something else, but never did.

You stood there alone realizing that you just made a bigger mess than you had before. You should have either tried to patch things up or end them once and for all but not fuck him just for the sake of fucking him.

“Fuck!” you slammed the table in frustration, your hand hurt but you didn’t care. Apparently, you haven’t grown as much as you thought as a person. What was the purpose of admitting in front of yourself that you loved him, if you couldn’t tell him that. Of course there was the small detail that you were talking about Tredd after all, and saying stuff like I love you was going to force him to make ten offensive jokes and probably pretend to be dead again.

[fallen029]

Remember Me: Twists and Turns.5

Previous Chapter

The sun was crawling closer to the center of the sky as Kai and Marin found themselves lying on their backs next to their garden, him toying with his puzzle cube while she read a children's book. Everything felt peaceful and calm, in those moments, before Ravan arrived. 'cause when he did, Kai knew it would all turn bad. Ravan would shove it in his face, that he'd done so well at his job and there was poor Kai, not even able to complete a stupid puzzle. Then he'd be subjected to the terrible word of having an arrow shot at him and that would make him cry and it just…

Rolling onto his stomach in the grass, Kai continued to diligently work at solving the damn thing while Marin sat by, reading to him the directs Lucy had given him when asked. He felt like he was memorizing them though and understood the cube a lot more than he had previously, but his confidence over being able to eventually solve the thing was kind of shot.

"Still working away, I see," was what Erza remarked when she came out into the backyard to lord over them. "On everything, but your magics. Marin, do you wish to be a true slayer or not? And Kai...oh, Kai."

"Hey," the little boy grumbled with a frown at the woman. "I have lofty goals too."

"Lofty?" the elder mage repeated, partially in shock that he even knew such a word. "Or lazy?"

"I'm ambitious, Erza," he insisted to the woman. "How could you say that?"

"You are learning quite the array of words, apparently, I will give you that."

"I'm an uncle now," he reminded her. "That's a lot to deal with. It's matured me."

"Hmmm." The swordswoman only continued to stare down at him. "Has it?"

Pushing up some, he nodded his head at her. "I think about other things now, than just food and myself."

"What do you think about?"

"This cube. Being Ravan's arrow boy. How come the baby doll's eyes are painted on instead of those cool googly ones that I like much better."

"Riveting," the woman told him simply, "thoughts."

She'd stumped him finally, with her words, but he could tell from the tone that it wasn't anything nice. Glaring at her, he retorted, "I've got a lot of other thoughts too. I'm a real deep person, Erza. Like, do you ever think about how come some people eat a lot and get fat, but other people eat a lot and get really muscular, like Elfman? No. I do."

"I don't," Erza replied, "because I know why. There's regimen and working out that go into all of that as well the type of food one is consuming. Not to mention-"

"I also think about other things!" Kai wasn't giving up so easily. "I think about...um… I think about life."

"Life?" Marin giggled back. "What do you mean?"

"In general," he specified without being specific at all."

Erza, that time, didn't question him. Only folded her arms over her chest and chuckled softly. Then, shaking her head, she continued on past them and went over to her weapons shed. She summoned her key from her reequip space before unlocking the heavy metal locks.

As they softly tumbled to the ground, Erza became reequipping other things.

She was swapping out her weapons.

On any other day, Kai would have happily rushed over and offered his service in polishing for them, as he had way back when (a year ago, at most), when he didn't know her too well and the action was an order from the woman. It felt like so long ago to him though that he didn't live with Erza and they weren't the best of friends.

Some nights though, when he thought really hard, he could remember life before… Before. But it got harder and harder with each passing day. He could still recall his mother and father's faces, but his other relatives and members of his tiny village grew tougher. It was hard for him to even think of names, some days. Or the path he and his father would take down to the best fishing spot.

Even the terrible event that he thought would forever be seared into his memory, when that hideous monster came out from the water and destroy his home, his family, his life, was slowly beginning to fade. And, though it still hurt his heart to think about, Kai struggled to honestly understand his true emotions in it all. He loved his mother and father. Their village. Their simple life.

Honest, he did.

Or he had.

Now, being so young and being inundated into a new lifestyle, it was hard for him to say with confidence that he wouldn't choose it over the other. Had he stayed on that coast and never ventured with Ravan to Magnolia, he'd have never truly met Erza. Or Master. Or Ms. Master. Or Marin. Or anyone. Fairy Tail woudln't mean anything to him.

But as it was, it meant everything to him.

How oculd he ever consider it not being that way?

Ravan got really mad at him sometimes, when he'd ask for him to tell him a story about their past. About how they lived. Before. Ravan didn't like to think about those things.

But Kai did.

Or at least he wanted to.

He wanted to remember that he was happy back then too. That there were happy times when he was with his family. His real family. He never wanted to forget that there had been something before Fairy Tail. Before he met Marin. Before Erza started taking care of him.

For as slow and immature as he could be at times, Kai wasn't dumb. He knew that if it was already so hard for him to recall things, that as time went on, it would become impossible. And that made him sad.

And he didn't like being sad.

It was as he watched Erza disappear into the overly filled shed that he thought of all this. Again. And he wanted to go over there and help her. Honest, he did. But…

He had to finish his cube, after all.

No, those few, easy jewels that he would make off that could wait. He had to-

"Ravan!"

He had to be shot in the butt with a bow by his vindictive older brother who would then make fun of him for the misfortune.

Yep.

The sound of Marin announcing his brother's return made Kai fall back down to the ground in defeat.

It was over.

There was a chance, of course, that Ravan would come back unsuccessful and therefore would void the contract, but no. The air he had about him just gave off an enormous victorious vibe. And, as he came to sneer over at his brother, Kai knew for sure that his goose was cooked.

"Looks like I'm back," the older boy said while pointing to the cube that the younger held in his palms, "and you're still not finished."

Kai had to bite back any complaints he had, literally grinding his teeth to stop the excuses from coming out. Instead, he only sat there and nodded as his brother. Because he was right. He hadn't finished and that was the deal.

"I," Ravan continued, "am gonna go ask Erza for the biggest bow she has with the sharpest arrows. Then we can get to practicing, huh?"

Kai was shaking.

No, literally.

Seeing this, Marin frowned a bit and asked the oldest boy, "Don't you wanna rest? You just got back home. Did you wanna go play at the guild?"

"I don't play at the guild, Marin," he griped at her. "I'm a serious mage with serious responsibilities. Playing is for babies. Like you. Who can't even solve a puzzle made for babies."

Still, before he walked away, Ravan dropped his sack of stuff on his back to the ground and, digging around it some, produced a large bag of candy, like the one he'd purchased the same day Kai got his cube.

"Share," was all he ordered the two kids who, now in better spirits, took to doing just that.

But Kai didn't have to be an arrow boy just yet, it seemed, as at his return, Erza wanted a complete rundown of his job and how he went about completing this.

It was at the bar that this took place, however, where Erza bought herself a stiff drink and Ravan purchased his own lunch with his own money because he was a man. Kai and Marin ate what Mirajane gave them because they were still kids.

And honestly, as he munched into his grilled cheese, Kai didn't think that was all that bad.

"Hi, Locke," Marin greeted with a giggle when the older boy came in with his father and Pantherlily. He'd made a beeline right over for them.

"Hi," he greeted them all with a nod. Erza was the only one to return it as Ravan only glared at him and Kai was too busy eating to focus on much else. "Have you seen Haven? I wanted to know if she wanted to go with me to the toy store to get a cube-"

"You can have mine," Kai offered as he finally came up for air. "I don't want it anymore."

Erza, taken aback a bit by this, asked, "Why? You seemed so enamored with it before."

"Well, I can't solve it!" he complained. "I gave it everything and I didn't solve it. Locke wants one and-"

"So?" Ravan, from his spot next to Erza, frowned at his younger brother. "You're just gonna give up? I thought you didn't want to be a baby."

"I'm not a baby!"

"Then don't act like one."

"I'm not!"

"Are too. Quitter."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"I used to want a brother," Locke remarked as he glanced between them slowly. "I'm glad I never got one."

"Locke!" And Haven had found him, it seemed, as she came to shove his shoulder. "You're late."

"Late?" he gripped, rubbing at where she'd no doubt left a bruise. "What are you talking about?"

"I learned a new magic spell from Laxus last night that's super powerful and I want to test it out on somebody."

Widening his eyes, the older boy said simply, "Why do you think I want to be the one?"

"Locke-"

"I'll do it." Ravan was still eating, but dropped his fork then at the sound of a challenge. "Haven."

Which, of course, made Locke glare at the boy before remarking, "She asked me."

"And you said no."

"Why do you guys wanna get shocked so badly?" Marin asked with a frown.

It was weird, honestly, the way they all intertwined together. All friendships at the stage of life are, in some ways, but the closeness in which theirs were frequently brought made it even odder. In any close group of friends, there always has to be a leader of sorts. With such pigheaded people like Haven and Ravan around, most would assume that it would be the two of them that butted against one another frequently.

And it was. It definitely was.

But at the same time, Haven more or less was just the defector leader. Her father was the guild master, she was one of the oldest and, most importantly, by far, she was the one with the least will to give up. She would kick and scream and punch and bite until she was unconscious if it meant getting her way.

Her strong will, when put up against the other children, was usually enough to at the very least outlast them. While Locke only got bigger and Ravan only got stronger, neither would ever have as much drive as Haven did.

So, that left Locke and Ravan to fight for second in command.

Of sorts, at least.

Because Ravan would never admit that he wanted anything to do with the slayer kids. And Locke would never admit Haven was kind of sort of his leader. However, they could both feel that though Haven was Ravan's mortal enemy and definitely Locke's best friend who he hated, the two of them just had a natural rivalry to them.

Fighting over letting Haven potentially paralyze them went into that.

"It doesn't matter," Haven decided. "I probably can do the attack twice now, I'm so powerful."

Still, Locke and Ravan glared at one another. It was during this though that Kai asked, "I thought you wanted to go to the toy shop? Locke? Or will you take my puzzle cube?"

That, at least, got the dark haired boy to look away from the other. Instead, he stared at the other's brother, shaking his head.

"I wouldn't take your toy, Kai," he told him with a bit of a grin. "Besides, Master bought you that. Remember? That makes it special."

Staring at where it sat on the table, Kai only shrugged his shoulders. "Mr. Bickslow said that I gotta learn to do it piece by piece. That may take awhile."

"But you've already gotten so much better!" Marin insisted. "You get it started all on your own, even, without the instructions Lucy gave us. And the more you go on, the better you'll understand it. You can't just give up, Kai. It's not manly!"

He wasn't sure, Kai wasn't, when he told Marin of his desire to become that. A man. But he was sure it had been divulged during their deep integral conversations where they discussed things like what made some people fat and some people muscular. Why the sky was blue. What's the difference between paste and glue? Lost in all that deep, stimulating conversation, was no doubt a tip off.

Or maybe...maybe Marin just knew.

He did like Elfman a whole lot.

They were both uncles, after all.

"You'll get better at it, loser," Ravan told him simply as he stood to accompany Locke and Haven. "Just keep practicing."

It was only after the older kids were gone though that Erza, who'd silently been sipping at her drink, spoke.

"When I was a girl," she began to which both Marin and Kai, too young to roll their eyes, only sighed softly, fearing a lecture, "I was quite scared of it too, Kai."

"Puzzle cubes?" he asked softly.

"Failure," she corrected. "Of course, the stakes were quite raised for me, in comparison to you-"

"His arrows hurt when they hit me, Erza."

"-but the first part of overcoming that fear is accepting the defeat when you taste it. And you have already done that part," the woman said with a nod of her head. "Have you not?"

"Well," he said slowly as Marin only giggled, "I didn't gripe too much when he told me I lost. And I will go collect his bows for him, when he practices his archery."

"The second part, however," she went on, "involves something much harder."

"Harder than getting hit with arrows?"

Nodding a bit, she said, "You must keep your head up. And continue to improve. Do you think that when I first arrived at this guildhall, I was capable of handling the toughest of jobs?"

"I dunno," Marin remarked slowly. "I always kinda thought you did."

"I did not," Erza assured them. "I worked at it. And I failed, at times. But when I failed, I hardly gave any time to licking my wounds. I got another job, I practice the move that failed me, I leveled up my magic. Whatever it took to get back out there, I did it. Ravan bet you, fine, and you lost, but that does not mean that you give up on what you originally set out to do. You must continue on, Kai. Eventually, you will be able to do a puzzle cube in your sleep. And what then?"

"Then...then I go on a job?"

"No." Reaching over, she patted him softly on the head with care that she only seemed to have for him. "You take the lessons that you learned from it and you continue to grow and mature as a person. You widen your magical abilities and find a side to you that doesn't constantly have to smart off and loaf about. Then, and only then, will you take a job."

Kai frowned some, down at the table, and thought on this for a long moment before raising his head and staring the scarlet warrior right in the eyes as he questioned, "Erza?"

"Yes?"

"You knew that I bet Ravan that I would go on a job, if I won and finished the cube."

"You told me that, yes."

"But… You don't want me to go on jobs yet. And you didn't tell me that if I won, I wouldn't be able to. Did you lie to me?"

"No," the woman said with a bit of a shrug as she raised her mug to her lips. Around it, she told him simply, "I knew you would never finish the cube."

His eyes falling then, Marin felt her own spirit crush at the woman's words as the boy only whispered, "Oh."

"But I was pleasantly surprised by your determination," she complimented him. Sort of. "Even in the face of inadequacy, you persevered. That is not something that you do often."

"I just wanted to prove Ravan wrong."

"Good." Nodding her head, she said, "Whatever drives you, use it. If we're lucky, maybe one day Ravan will dare you to actually learn some more spells."

Doubtful.

But maybe.

As it turned out, Haven's new spell was not as master as she thought and wound up with all three kids rather ill the next few days. She'd been far more powerful than she planned and nearly killed Locke, as he was the first to be shocked, and injured herself and Ravan in the process as the electricity flowed through the area behind the bar they attempted this, striking both the young reequip mage and the girl herself.

Laxus had a long talk with Haven about control and what it meant to have power over others.

Gajeel talked to Locke about not being such a weenie and, hey, maybe even finding a new best friend because the Dreyar girl clear had it out for him.

Erza didn't talk to Ravan about the incident at all though she did hold off on a job to stay around the house as he laid up on the couch, feeling singed from inside out.

Mira had to work though, up at the hall everyday as Lisanna was going out on a job and they were just too busy for Kinana to work alone. Laxus had to go out of town, to attend a guild master meeting. This usually meant that either Evergreen and Elfman would watch the girls, but that couldn't be the case as they were off too. During the evening, their mother could be with them, but during the day, with Haven so laid up…

She wanted to go to Locke's house and he wanted her to come there too, so they could heal (bicker) together, but Gajeel and Levy seemed a bit peeved about the whole thing, Laxus felt, and he didn't want a whole ordeal (being a master and all, he was always worried that eventually he'd be forced to actually discipline Haven for her misdeeds, worst of all when she wasn't even doing anything wrong, just being too powerful for her own good), so he was going to send her over to Navi's place, but Mirajane insisted he not do that as Lucy already had enough to deal with.

"Oi, boss, I can watch the kid," Bickslow told the man and his missus the morning Lisanna was leaving. "I already have Ajax here to watch, right? So I'll just come over here with him and sit with Haven. Like she was a baby again. Won't you like that, Haven?"

"No," she insisted from the other room, where she was stretched out on the couch, bandaged from head to toe. "I don't. Laxus, no, please."

From the kitchen, Laxus grunted a bit down at his coffee before saying, "You able to handle that, Bickslow? Your kid and Haven? Especially when she's so whiny-"

"I am not. And no, he can't. Mom, tell Bickslow no.":

"I can watch her!" Bickslow even saluted Mirajane and Laxus, getting the former to giggle. "Take care of it all, I will. I'll keep her entertained too. Movie lacrimas rot the minds of the young. I'll keep her entertained with the same things I was entertained by as a kid. The mystics of card tricks! The illusions of juggling! How to do a back flip. How to not do a back flip. Are you really a tragic clown trapped in the body of an equally as tragic acrobat? Find out!"

"Laxus, I won't ever do anything bad again," Haven continued to plead. "Don't make me listen to that."

"I, for one," the slayer said with the brightest smile he'd had in awhile, "am sold."

"Laxus!"

But when her parents were gone and it was just Bickslow and her (Ajax was too busy playing with his toys to care about either of them), Haven didn't gripe too much.

Mostly because he didn't do all that he told Laxus he would.

Instead, he pulled up a chair by the couch and sat down, tossing around a rubber ball he'd found in their toys, throwing it up high enough to just graze the ceiling before falling back down into his waiting palm.

"Why'd you wanna stay with me so badly?' Haven asked with a bit of a frown. Honestly, she was banking on being sent over to Freed's where he'd make her read books and give her lectures on her recklessness. "Is it because you wanna impress stupid Laxus?"

"What, kid?" he asked her with his own frown. "I can't love you? I'm your uncle, aren't I?"

"Not like Elf. And don't be gross."

"Love ain't gross," he insisted with a sigh. "Love is special."

Still, Haven stared at him. "You just wanna impress Aunt Lisanna and Mom, don't you?"

"Perceptive little shit, huh?" Bickslow snickered a bit. "It's why I love you."

"Stop saying that."

"Your aunt needed to go out on a job," the man said then with a more straight face. "Can't keep forcing her to stay home with Ajax here. A man should raise his son and all."

"Now you sound like Elf."

"He isn't the only one that can worry about that sorta stuff," Bickslow insisted. Then, looking off, he added, "Besides, I'm not trying to just impress them. Your aunt and mother. I'm just trying to be a better person. What's wrong with that?"

To Haven? Everything. To admit you wanted to be better at something meant that you'd failed at something.

And she'd never admit something like that.

"It's a piece by piece thing," he insisted to her as, that time, when the ball came down, he held it in his hand, clutching it tightly. "Piece by piece."

Across town, Marin was having a much better time than her sister as, rather than worry for her own flesh and blood's well-being, she worried over the sibling she had in hushed whispers only. Ravan.

He was much better at being a big brother than Haven was a big sister.

In true big brother fashion, even, he made her sit by the couch, reading a comic book to him. This annoyed Erza who, by this point, though the boy was playing up his injury a little too much, but did take the pressure off Kai to entertain the girl for a few days.

Because yes, he did think of that as his job. It was an important part of their friendship, after all.

During all this though, as Kai sat near by, tinkering with his cube, it happened. After days of trial and error and assistance from others, he'd done it.

He'd solved the puzzle cube.

It was with a lot of pride that he came to set it on Ravan's chest who, a bit put out considering he was very invested in the comic he was having read to him, frowned at first. This changed though, after a moment.

"Well, look at the big baby," he congratulated in his own way as Marin, noting then its completion, dropped the comic to go hug her best friend. "Finally finished it, did you? It'd be a shame if someone messed it up again!"

"No!" And Kai had to be quick to grab it before his brother did. "Ravan!"

"What's the point then?" the older boy asked. "It's how the toy works, ain't it? You mix it all up and start all over again, don't you?"

"Not me," the younger said as he took steps back, away from his brother and friend. "I'm gonna go glue it together. So ti can never be messed up again?"

Joke lost in his tone then, Ravan told him simply, "Don't do that. You big diork."

"You're a big dork!"

"You're the biggest one if you go and do something like that."

"Fine," Kai huffed as, looking down at his cube again, he said, "But I'm not messing it up again. Not yet."

"Don't then," Ravan huffed as the moment passed and he wasn't so congratulatory towards the younger boy then. "You big baby."

"I'm not a baby."

"I like it, Kai," Marin told him with a big grin. "I think you did great."

"Thank you," he grinned right back. Then, glancing down at it, he said, "It looks so nice. This way. I'mma go show Erza!"

"Me too!"

"Hey," Ravan complained as they ran off for the kitchen to find the woman. "You were reading to me. Marin!"

That's what he got though, he figured as his body cried out at him when he tried to reach to grab the comic where Marin had discarded it on the ground. Trusting another Dreyar girl. What was he thinking?

Locke wasn't thinking about much of anything as he laid in his room, having taken a far worse brunt of the magic than Kai or Haven had. He wasn't sure what was worse, the way his head banged or everything smelt like smoldering coals, but mostly he just knew it plain stunk.

It was the shittier end of the stick, for sure, being an only child. And only family, it felt like, at times, as even though Marin and Haven didn't get along too well, she had all those aunts and uncles to play with. And Navi's brothers were too small to really do much, but she had her dad who was more like a big brother than he was a, well, dad.

Locke loved his mother and father and Lily, but sometimes you just needed someone else.

Which is what he got when, after some convincing, Haven was allowed by his mother passed the front door and there she was, in his room.

But she didn't apologize.

He'd have feared he was hurt far worse than he was if she had.

"Here," she said simply as she held out something to him.

Locke smiled, maybe, a bit, as he asked, "Oh. Kai solved his puzzle cube?"

"No, loser," she remarked as, no longer holding it out, she took the solved cube and begin to mix it all up. It was only once it was thoroughly mangled that she moved to actually place it in his hands then. "I bought it. For you."

He grinned widely at that and Haven wanted to punch him, but she couldn't because he was so hurt and it probably would actually get them grounded for one another even longer. The short few days they had been had been terrible for them both and were more than enough.

He wanted to thank her and ask her how she was feeling and, maybe, even about Ravan (bleh, maybe not), but she was sinking to the floor then, to sit with her back up against his bed and he only began to toy with his cube as she started to tell him all about her horrible punishment of having to be babysat by her Uncle Bickslow and, honestly?

He'd take that moment over a stupid apology any day.

Full Story on Fanfic

(Mostly) Full Series on Archive

[extraneousdominomask]

*collapses* I shoulda typed this BEFORE sending the ask. Ah well, live and learn.

Alrighty, here we go.

As we all know, once upon a time, Doctor M served as a planner and technical expert in one of the many incarnations of the Cooper Gang, with Conner Cooper serving as the leader and field agent while Jim McSweeny served as the muscle. Under mysterious circumstances, Doctor M would start to feel slighted by his friend, implying several times that Conner wasn’t as loyal a friend to the doctor as Sly was to his own friends, having a few choice words to describe the Cooper line on the whole while making this clear. Interestingly though, he was quite willing to concede that Sly might indeed have been a better man than his father was, a level of self-awareness and insight that implies that his assessment might just be more than bitterness and jealousy talking.

Notably, he singles out Bentley, a fellow intellectual who serves the same role that Doctor M himself did on the original team, and for a moment is even able to plant a seed of doubt within Bentley before Murray is able to bring him back to his senses. The Doctor’s gambit failed and he was subsequently… well, not really ‘defeated’ per-say, given that he chose to go down with the Cooper Vault, but either way, he met his end shortly after.

Doctor M’s entire interaction with Bentley raises a myriad number of questions, and while it’s definitely possible he’s more than capable of psychological manipulation, one must note that he had no prior research on the Gang before this moment. He spotted Bentley, understood what purpose he served, and then proceeded to accurately poke at the personal doubts Bentley had regarding his friendship with Sly. That’s a VERY intimate level of understanding for someone with no prior contact to have based purely on short-term observation.

So, what am I getting at here? What I’m getting at is that the parallels between Bentley and Doctor M are closer than anyone could have guessed, and it directly led to the destruction of the original Cooper Gang and the death of Sly’s family at the hands of Clockwerk.

Before we proceed onward, we must also do a rundown of a personal interpretation of the character of Sly’s father, Conner.

In-Universe evidence of regarding what Conner was like a person is quite scant. We have only Sly’s childhood memories, the word of Jim McSweeney, and a single flashback in Sly 4 to paint a picture. Sly naturally idolized his father but was willing to confront that maybe he wasn’t perfect. Jim McSweeny spoke rather glowingly of the man, but then that might have been the result of the two being closer than Doctor M was to him. Finally we have the Flashback, which showcases him outwitting Le Paradox’s father and leading to his imprisonment, which is only natural.

And then we have Doctor M’s words, which given the fact that he is objectively a homicidal lunatic need to be taken with a grain of salt.

All of this hinges though on a single premise- what if Doctor M, bitter and warped as he was, was in fact almost entirely correct about Conner?

My theory is that Conner, while not really a BAD guy, could be a much more selfish and jerky person than Sly was, at least during his younger years. The core of this difference is that while McSweeney and Doctor M were his comrades and friends, it was never to the same extent as Sly, Bentley and Murray- those three grew up together and are as close as brothers. Conner met McSweeney and the Doc when he was older, having already had a prolific career as a solo thief. In all likelyhood he encountered them during his adventures and took them along for the ride… but the simple fact was, he was never quite as close to Doctor M as he was to Bentley, and at some level, he took the man and his skills for granted and was ultimately far closer to McSweeney.

Why would this be? I theorize at some level there was a difference of class at work- Doctor M’s refined accent and mannerisms make me feel as if he was from an old money family, and ultimately was drawn to the criminal life because he wanted to make his own destiny rather than follow in the pre-planned footsteps of his father and his father before him. However, his background and education meant there was a slight rift between him and the others- Jim McSweeney was very much a blue collar bruiser, and while the Cooper family defies class distinctions, they’re still closer to the ‘little guy’ than they to anyone who might qualify as ‘aristocracy’. As such, there was always a slight bit of tension over the fact that a ‘rich boy’ was mixing it up with the gang- at some level it might have been suspected that Doctor M was only slumming it up and could easily return to the life he had before, meaning he had fewer stakes in everything than Conner or Jim. Naturally this wasn’t really the case, but people will have their assumptions.

By and large though, the group functioned well enough… until one day, something happened.

Sly’s mother.

The Cooper Vault indicates that Conner was a more technologically savvy Cooper given the computers and microscope kept over at his section. My theory however is that while he DID have something of a scientific education (primarily computers, courtesy of his cousin Bruce O’Coop in an effort to keep him ahead of the curb, as Bruce accurately predicted the impending importance of the Internet), he was not exactly an expert at it in the way that Doctor M was.

My theory though is that Sly’s mother WAS much more scientifically inclined and savvy than Conner was, and it was through her help that he devised his signature ‘laser rail’ move…. somehow.

And this is where the problem started, and where the repetition of history would get its start- before Conner set his eyes on her, Doctor M was already in love with Sly’s mother. That’s right- she was the Penelope to his Bentley. They shared much in common, and Doctor M was entranced by her intellect and her ability to keep up with him in a conversation. The fact that she was quite the looker didn’t hurt none either. Slight problem- Conner was handsome, outgoing, daring and charismatic, and Sly’s Mom (one day I need to headcanon a name for her) found herself drawn to him despite having more in common with M.

This is where the fundamental difference between Sly and Conner comes in- Sly is naturally polite and charming towards women, but he was never really interested in Penelope the same way that she was with him, and he never tried to pursue her affections, nor would he ever have knowing that Bentley was into her. He could never hurt his friend that way. Conner by contrast, as befitting the Rogue Hero of Yesteryear, was something of a serial womanizer- she was beautiful, she was interested, and that was all that mattered. The fact that his friend and colleague was already demonstrating an interest didn’t matter- survival of the fittest is the thief’s game after all, and if you don’t have what it takes to get what you want, then you don’t deserve it.

And so, Doctor M and Conner would compete for her affections, and ultimately, Conner was triumphant… though ironically enough, a funny thing happened during all of that- he found himself genuinely falling in love with her, and suddenly rather than becoming the latest in a long line of conquests, she was something new, strange and frightening.. someone he would want to spend the rest of his life with.

Doctor M, as you can imagine was heartbroken, and this series of events helped to allow much of the resentment and anger that had been building up towards Conner to start festering inside his soul. Doctor M built the machines and made the plans, but Conner got the glory. Doctor M risked his life for the sake of the thief, but was left to fend for himself more than a few times. Conner mocked Doctor M for his interests and mannerisms despite needing him to succeed. Conner could have any woman in the world, but STOLE the one woman that Doctor M wanted. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t any damn fair.

Still, despite all this, all might have ended well. Doctor M might have chose to be a bigger man and accept that Sly’s mom would be with Conner rather than him. M was always a rationalist after all. Focusing on this sort of thing was beneath him. All might have been well.

If it hadn’t been for that one conversation with Clockwerk.

During a job gone wrong, Doctor M found himself in the most nightmarish predicament imaginable- alone, face-to-face with Clockwerk. He prepared himself for the end, for surely the millenia old serial murderer would have little difficulty eliminating an ally to his most hated enemy. Clockwerk did no such thing though. Instead, Clockwerk did something even worse- he talked. He conversed. Bit by bit he peeled back Doctor M’s insecurities, and then found his way into pushing the right buttons- he revealed how he knew that Doctor M felt more like a lackey than a friend to Conner. He told Doctor M that this was a pattern with Coopers- they use people, you see, they pretend to be friends and then they use them until they can give no more. The Thievius Racconus is filled with the glories of the Cooper Lineage, but no mention to the people they depended on to succeed.

Doctor M didn’t want to believe the ancient owl, but so much of what he said made sense. He could recall all the times when Doctor M’s brains had won the day, only for Conner to act as if it had been all him. Most of all he recalled Sly’s Mother. How happy she made him feel, how nice it was to have someone who could talk to him and appreciate him, how nice it felt to not be alone… and how Conner took it all away because she was another pretty face he needed to fornicate with.

Clockwerk allowed Doctor M to live. He knew he had planted the seed of hatred within his enemy, and that one day it would bloom into something great and terrible. All he had to do was wait.

Things continued on for the Cooper gang, but Doctor M was starting to become more and more openly resentful of Conner, and things finally came to a head when Conner married Sly’s mother and had Sly. McSweeny mentioned that things in the gang got ‘tense’ after Sly was born and that they split up afterwards, and this was the reason why. Doctor M just couldn’t contain his anger and hatred anymore, and so, the gang was split. Conner, as a result of his marriage and new life as a father, gradually became aware of the fact that he had been less than stellar a friend to Doctor M, and swore he would make it up to him. To him AND Jim. So, when Sly was very young, Conner contacted his former partners, and revealed to them the existence of the Cooper Vault and gave them clues to its location, as well as revealed that he had made them the legal godfathers to his son if anything were to happen to him.

Conner was certain it was the best way to make up to his friends after having taken them for granted, and perhaps he was correct. But by that point, it was FAR too late for Doctor M. Doctor M was now consumed by hatred, warped by it. Conner thought he could fool him? Claimed he had changed? He saw through the transparent lies in an instant. He was still trying to use him and Jim, just like he always had. Well this time it wasn’t going to work. This time Doctor M was going to get EXACTLY what he deserved. EVERYONE was going to get what they deserved- Doctor M for wasting his life on the Coopers and their nonsense. Jim for refusing to see the truth. Conner for reducing him to a lackey. Conner’s wife for choosing Conner over him. Everyone was going to get what they deserved.

Everyone.

The first move was to eliminate McSweeny. Doctor M framed his old friend for a crime he didn’t commit, and had him sent to prison as a result. Then, after locating Sly’s family, he came into contact with Clockwerk and the Fiendish Five. All he asked for in return was the deed to Cain Island. Clockwerk more than obliged, and you know what happens next- Clockwerk and his gang raid the Cooper home, Conner and his wife die, and Sly is made an orphan. With McSweeny jailed, no other living family left, and Doctor M renouncing his custodial rights, Sly is sent to the orphanage where he will meet Bentley and Murray.

Doctor M meanwhile gets to work- first he finds Cain Island, and using his family money (procured after his father’s mysterious and sudden death) and the earnings from his career as a thief, immediately begins converting it into a fortress and research facility where he conducts his biological experiments, even beginning to experiment on himself as the years go by. Finally he is able to locate the door of the vault, but to his horror, he finds he has made a major miscalculation- it can only be opened by the hook-cane of a Cooper. Despite several attempts to fabricate a cane to bypass the lock, nothing works. Worst of all, he cannot locate Sly- by this point Sly and his gang are old enough to have successfully escaped the orphanage and begin their lives of crime.

Doctor M however does not despair, and instead ramps up his efforts to bust in, reasoning that one of two things will happen- either he will eventually manage to bypass the barricade, or sooner or later, that accursed whelp will endeavor to find the Cooper Vault and *bring* the cane right to him. He’s a Cooper. Those greedy, money grubbing little parasites cannot help themselves and their sticky fingers. One thing that is assured though is that the Cooper Vault and all within it will belong to Doctor M.

It’s just a matter of time.

*wipes brow* Whew! Well, there you have it. A personal take on what exactly caused Doctor M to go off the deep end. I hope that I have managed to convey that this is purely an explanation and not an excuse- Doctor M was indeed legitimately wronged in a very personal way, but that does not begin to justify his actions, nor does it excuse the very wanton sadism he indulges in. I just sorta like the idea that Doctor M’s parrallels with Bentley go way deeper than the surface, and the fact that in the end, Sly really ISN’T his father, despite what Doctor M would like to think.

So, yeah, food for thought- full course buffet in this case, but there you go.

[This is some excellent stuff! I really dig Sly’s mom as a scientist - a nice change from the usual assumed careers of “thief” or, somewhat oedipally, “policewoman”. The idea of both parents contributing to the laser walk is a lovely sentiment, and goddammit, I want her to be more involved in general. I also really like that Clockwerk talked to Dr M just as Dr M tried to do with Bentley - that forms a nice chain. Really, with Clockwerk being immortal, there’s so much potential to see him interact with past characters. Finally, I share your headcanon that Dr M totally Wormtail’d the Coopers and was the one who told Clockwerk where they lived. It just makes sense.]