#and there's a sign practically BEGGING YOU TO WEAR A DAMN MASK

[naomiknight-17]

Sitting in a waiting room with Mom cuz she has a doc's appointment

There's a sign on the door saying masks are STRONGLY encouraged

Only Mom and I are wearing masks

There are over a dozen people waiting

The fact that I haven't massacred the whole room is a testament to my incredible self-control

[tochasingwaterfalls]

toni and shelby scenes i practiced writing because i officially have no life anymore

(2nd pov shelby and not always entirely accurate)

1. what the fuck are you wearing

The first time Toni talks to you, like really interacts with you, is when you pull Martha out of that riptide and bandage her ankle with the material of your top. She comes flying towards the two of you, worried about Martha, and so relieved, that she doesn’t even notice you at first. But when Martha shifts her attention towards you, compliments you, thanks you for the help, Toni looks at you. And she doesn’t just look at you, she scans you up and down and your skin starts to feel hot under the intensity of her gaze and you’re about to say something when -

“What the fuck are you wearing.”

You decide to brush over that, you tell yourself that she‘s on edge like all of you, that she didn’t mean for it to sound this patronizing, and when you walk back to the others, you try not to think about the way she looked at you. You try not to think about the way it made your skin crawl and burn at the same time, something you‘ve never felt before and something so entirely wrong.

2. god’s such a joke

“I‘m so sick of looking at your fucking ponytail. I feel like it thinks it’s better than me,“ she bites and when you turn around, she’s right there, up in your personal space, looking at you and challenging you to bite back with her eyes so intense that you forget how to breathe for a moment. 

“Why don’t you go in front, then?” You offer and she scoffs, brushes right past you with all her anger and when your hands just barely touch, it sets your body on fire all over again. You’re proud that you didn't let her get under your skin with all her punching remarks, toned arms and that insufferable smirk of hers - and yet what you fail to realize is, that she already runs so much deeper.

Toni stomps in front of you, each step loaded with a tension that stems from a place much further away than anything on this island but at least she’s not talking and you can finally concentrate on finding water. The Lord helps those who help themselves. You mumble a few prayers under your breath and it’s like she’s waited for just that, because she whirls around, snaps “God‘s such a joke,” and scoffs when you stay quiet. It’s something she seems to be doing a lot; scoffing, picking fights where there are none, fighting battles only she knows the cause of. “Do you know He is just a brainwashing tool designed to enslave the masses?“ She’s smirking again, thinks she’s cornered you, and you don’t know why you feel the need to say something back, maybe because you don’t want her to think you have no backbone, or maybe just because you want to see how she reacts. 

“Even if He were just a brainwashing tool, you ever think maybe your brain could use a good,” you draw out your bottom lip with your teeth. “scrub?“ 

“Fuck off.“ 

It’s the start of a game you two continue to play; she’s scoffing, dismissing, disagreeing with everything you say and you’re brushing it off, practicing your patience, all while trying not to let her see how much she actually does rile you up.

3. don’t bullshit me, shelby

It all starts with Rachel commenting the way Toni’s eating the mussels and you wish she would’ve just kept her mouth shut. “Just trying to stay on brand, you know.” Toni smirks, looks proud, and when she brings up the mussel to her mouth, your breath falls short in the back of your throat, because she’s not going to- Oh, she definitely is and there’s a knot settling low in your stomach. You don’t want to watch but it’s physically impossible for you to look away. “You gotta admit, the shape of these things... it’s kinda like a-“ 

“Like a pussy!“ That’s Nora, loud and so surprising, that there’s a shocked moment of silence before they’re back to laughing again and cheering Toni on, all like;

“Lick the clit.” and-

“This is the most action any of us have gotten.” and- 

“Go off, girl!” and-

- you don’t know how can they be so okay with all this but you can’t take it anymore. “Would you stop?!” And okay, maybe it’s a little hysterical with a little too much panic seething through your voice and you can’t meet Toni’s eyes when she wipes off her mouth. 

“Okay, that was hilarious and Shelby has no chill,“ Dot says into the silence that has started to settle in.

 “I have chill, I guess I just don’t - I don‘t see the humour in that sort of thing.“ You still can’t bring yourself to look at her.

“What do you mean that sort of thing?“ You can feel her running hot again, eyes not leaving your face, eyebrows furrowed, hand balled around the mussel so tightly, her knuckles turn white. She has you cornered.

“You know, pornographic gestures. I‘m a Christian, all right? I‘m from a Christian home, I‘m allowed to be a little skeeved out.“ You try your hardest to dodge the question, with the words practically spilling from your lips; and when your eyes finally lock with hers, you think she has to notice how they’re almost begging her not to push any further. This time, she really has you cornered and you can’t let go of the cross hanging off your neck. 

Wether or not she notices the plea in your eyes, Toni pushes, because all she ever does is pick battles. “I mean that‘s not all that’s going on here. Don‘t bullshit me, Shelby, cause the vibe that’s coming of you right now, I‘ve felt it a few too many times not to know what it is.“ 

All she ever does is pick battles but this is one, she has every right to fight. You know that and you look away; you’re practically drowning in your shame and the way Toni continues to push makes your throat close up.

“What are you saying, Toni?“ 

“I’m saying that she can’t stand that I’m gay, Marty, that’s what fucking skeeves her out.” Her anger fails to mask the way she’s hurt, the way her voice breaks a little in the end and you want to cry, knowing you’re the cause of all that.

“Look, I’ll be as honest as possible, because y’all deserve that.” It’s out on the table and you have to take a deep breath before the words rush out of your mouth, as if that would make it any better. You don’t know how the others react to what you say, you’re completely zoned in on Toni; she’s the one that matters and you’re begging her to understand that when you say, “I do believe that way of life is a sin,” you really mean “I’ve started hating myself such a long time ago that I can’t remember how not to.”

But she pushes herself up to her feet and spits “I can’t fucking believe it-“ 

Your tongue presses against your dentures when you cut her off. “I’m sorry, but everything I’ve ever known has taught me that.” Your lips on Becca’s and how right it feels, your father looking at you and then stopping to look at you all together, your pleas that it will never happen again, please, it was all Becca. Everything comes rushing in, balled up into a wave of shame and guilt that hits you square in your chest and almost knocks you over. It cuts up your throat from the inside when you say “Look, there’s no hate in my heart, I just feel sorry-“

“Fuck you.” She has you cornered, but there are no smirks, no snarky comments; there’s just the try to mask pain with anger and self hate with believe and you think that maybe this was the game you played all along.

4. i’m not gonna take shit from you

You don’t have time to figure out what it means when you grab the pill and turn around to face her. “Toni, I’m gonna need you to take this, alright?” 

“Stay away from me.” Still, close to passing out and maybe losing her life, she’s angry and proud and snapping but you brush it aside. You don’t have time for this. 

“If I put this in your mouth, can you take it?”

“I’m not gonna take shit from you.” It sounds weak, her voice hoarse and her lips chapped and you don’t have time to figure out why there’s this hot knot building up in you stomach with every word she says.

“It will save your life, Toni, you’re taking the damn pill.” You’re desperate and worried, knot in your stomach, heat in your veins, and when some of the others try to take the pill from you, something inside of you snaps. “Jesus fucking Christ, am I not allowed to help her!?”

You push her over and you don’t have time to figure what it means when your breathing becomes ragged and your whole body feels like it’s being set on fire when you force her to open her damn mouth.

“Swallow the fucking pill.” You're on top of her, one hand covering her mouth to make sure that she doesn’t spit out the pill, the other tangled in her hair, skin on skin and never this close before. It makes your head spin. When you hear her swallow and a flood of relief washes over your body, you’re not sure you want to figure out what that means. It will never happen again.

Toni runs deeper than your skin, she’s in your bones and in your veins and you’re scared shitless. So you do what you do best, and you walk away.

5. you’re free here

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to have to be pitch perfect every second? To be watched like a hawk for the slightest bit of weight gain or the tiniest wobble in my heal or if my hem is just a centimeter off regulation or if I say the wrong thing about international politics? God, help me.” 

“So you’re complaining about being judged when you literally signed up for that?”

“I know, I - “ You know she’s right. She’s cornered you again. “But I‘m not just talking about pageant stuff. It feels like everywhere I go, somebody is asking me to meet some kind of expectation. It’s a lot is all. The pressure.“ You don’t know how to say it to make her understand - without saying too much, that is. You’re playing the game again and she’s winning.

“Yeah, well, my dad‘s been a no show since day one and my mom is in and out of rehab like it’s a fucking white castle, so nobody expects shit from me. Doesn‘t feel great either.” You hear her voice get rough, close to breaking and she blinks a little harsher than just a minute ago. “Do you know how many field trips I had to bail on, cause no one’s been there to sign my permission slip? You know, I don’t give a fuck about going to the planetarium, you know? It just would’ve been nice to have someone there to say that I could.“ She’s rushing out things you’re not sure anyone else knows, maybe not even Martha, and you’re desperately trying to comprehend all of it.

“Yeah, but-“ 

“Shelby, if you’re trying to out-sad me, it‘s a losing fucking battle.“ She says it with a finality that's so much like her and it breaks your heart. Here you have her, talking to you like she means every word she says and you’re still thinking you’re playing a stupid game.

“But you’re free, don’t you see that? You don’t have to answer to anybody,” you argue and hits closer to home than anything you’ve ever told anyone before-

And then Toni says something that changes everything.

 “And neither do you, not right now anyway.” Your eyes bore into hers and you realize that she’s right. That she knows what she’s talking about. That you’ve been hiding and that you’re tired of it. She keeps talking and you’re too busy staring at her lips and the way her eyebrows are furrowed together in a way to underline the point she’s making, to hear what she’s saying. “I mean, you’re on a deserted island a million miles away from whatever bullshit expectations you left behind. You’re free here, Shelby, and if you’re not taking advantage of that, then I don’t know what the fuck to tell you.“

You’re free here. You’re free. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you rush in, thumbs on her cheeks and fingers curling around the back of her neck and you finally, finally, finally press your lips against hers. It’s desperate and it’s everything you’ve wanted to do for God knows how long. The way she kisses you back makes you feel closer to God than any prayer ever could and it feels so right until-

My, God.

You pull away and you're staring at her, breath falling short in the back of your throat, lips hot and so caught up in the moment. 

And then it comes crashing in. It will never happen again, please, Dad. It’s not what you think it is. This is not who I am.

You’re free. You’re free and you do what you do best, you run away from it. The difference is, that this time, there’s someone to chase after you.

[voorbeees]

[ me, writing a decent fic? impossible! Anyway here’s a fic about Jesse adopting a kid that I got kind of carried away with but i don’t care. 

you can also read it here . Also don’t forget I take commissions. ]

The sharp hunting knife plunges into the woman's temple. It's a faster kill than he enjoys. Usually he'll bide his time, watching, waiting until he's spotted a piggy that suits him. Typically it's a cat and mouse game, dragged out for as long as possible. Psychological torture is the game. That accompanied by true torture, eventually.

Jesse has found himself becoming far more annoyed by Preston than usual, which is saying something, considering that the man makes him consider driving a knife into his own eye in order to end the conversation faster. After the latest whining spree, he's decided he's just going to kill him. Preston offers no value to himself or his organization anymore. Only he wants an audience when he does it. Set an example. No other employees voice opinions like him, but Jesse wants to make sure they remember who's in charge.

Chromeskull twists the knife in a fit of anger. God even thinking about him pisses him off. Another turn for good measure then he yanks the blade from the woman's head. It's a clean kill and for that he's sorry. She'd have been perfect for slicing and butchering. Whatever. It's done. The night is still young and there's still plenty of piggies to find.

He swaggers back to his Chrysler 300 to retrieve a body bag. Once he's back, Jesse stuffs the body in the bag and slings it over his should as if he's done this a thousand times. (Probably because he has done this a thousand times.) He's not too worried about the crime scene, it's an abandoned warehouse for Christ's sake. The only people who'll be snooping around in here are your typical crack head junkies. No one in their right mind is going to believe that they found blood. Even better, they'd probably be convicted of the crime. Now that's fucking hilarious. Jesse laughs silently at the thought. The only indication that he's even doing it being the up and down movement of his shoulders.

By this point he's made sure his knives are tucked safely away back in his chrome briefcase, which he holds in his free hand. Jesse kicks the door open with enough strength to knock it off its hinges. He stands there on the stoop in the back alley for a moment before marching down the dimly lit alleyway to his car.

A scuffing noise coming from behind catches his attention. Jesse turns around with enough force to make the body over his shoulder whizz through the air and thunk hard against his back. Nothing catches his eye so he brushes it off. Most likely a stray cat.

The trunk to the car opens with a click and he throws the body inside. Better care is taken when he places his briefcase in beside it. The video has long since finished recording and he takes the time now to remove the tape, titling it Jacksonville. It's honestly not even worth keeping or naming but who gives a fuck. He caught the bitch and killed her, it's his fair and square.

Pocketing the tape, he slams the trunk shut. He's opted to keep his chrome mask on. No sense in taking it off just to reapply the adhesive an hour later. He whirls around, ready to jump into the car and drive off when instead he practically jumps out of his fucking skin.

There no more than a few feet away stands a small child, no older than six. Big doe-like eyes stare up at him and it takes Jesse a minute to regain his composure. What the fuck? He looks around but sees no one. Clearly she belongs to someone, which sounds stupid as fuck because she isn't a fucking dog. And yes. Now he can make out clearly that it is a little girl. He doesn't have many rules he abides by when the chrome mask is placed on his face, but killing kids is one of his top ones. They're still too young to understand the world or just how terrible their mothers are for leaving them alone long enough to get a fuck in.

The little girl takes a tiny step forward and Jesse wastes no time in yanking his phone from his pocket. He types furiously on it, black nitrile making hardly a sound.

'GO AWAY' . The electronic voice echoes off the brick walls of the alley. He can tell by the way she flinches back a step that his point is made. Good. Jesse brushes past her, ready to leave the situation behind. At least until he feels a tug on his black slacks.

The little girl clings to his designer pants, eyes wide but not from fear, more so curiosity. Jesse wastes no time in furiously typing on his phone again. 'GO HOME. I'M A BUSY MAN AND I DON'T NEED TO BE HELD UP. ' His only response is a slow blink.

'NO. ' He dislodges her tiny hands and pushes her on the back in the opposite direction. ' GO HOME. ' Jesse thinks he's finally gotten her to understand but it's the exact opposite. For some fucking reason that makes her want to be even closer to him.

"Why do you wear that?" She asks as she points to his mask.. She has to hold her head all the way back to even see his "face". It's actually rather comical and if anyone were to walk by at this moment they'd probably double over with laughter. The girl barely makes it up to his thigh, as to where the 6'7 man looks like a god damned giant looking at a pomeranian. "Are you hiding from someone?"

Yes that was obviously it! He, a known killer, was hiding from someone. What a stupid -- Jesse stops himself mid thought as his brown eye takes in her appearance. It's raggedy to say the least. Then again, anyone who compared his attire to another’s would consider it to be raggedy. ' HOME. LEAVE ME ALONE. FIND YOUR MOTHER. '

The girl's face seems to crumple at this and for a moment Jesse is dumbfounded. "I -I don't know where she is." The tiny voice squeaks out. Her lower lip begins to quiver and ohmyfuckinggod he's done it now. People could care less if they heard a woman on the streets yelling, but a kid? Someone would come bounding around the corner to the rescue. Which only meant he'd then have to kill them and whoever else came with them. "She leaves sometimes and doesn't come back for a while." His mangled lip twists into a snarl under the chrome mask. "She usually says it's because she has to work." Ah, so that explained it.

Jesse's eye darts to the trunk of his Chrysler 300. Of course the whore brought her kid to work. If he could talk, Jesse would have a mouthful of slurs to toss at the dead woman. He knows all too well what it's like to not have a mother, and knows even better the concept of a drunk for a father. Though something tells him there's no father in this situation.

"Can I come with you? At least until she comes back?" It's such an innocent question and it takes everything in him to hold back the sensation of snuffing out a life. Chromeskull is creeping further into the picture, just begging to sink his claws into her and kill her but Jesse smoothers that thought.

He's always had a fond spot for kids. It was actually something he was excited about when he'd found out his wife was pregnant but just like everything else that had been ruined too. He never talks about his wife. The only time he did was when Spann had the displeasure of explaining the situation to him. After that he'd made it clear to never mention her or the unborn baby again by destroying everything in his office. The room looked like it had been hit by a tornado when he was done, broken pictures, splintered chairs, holes in the wall. The scenario made his fiasco with destroying the mirror after seeing his own disfigurement seem mild. All of that accompanied with the unsaid "this is your fault" regarding her suicide has been eating away at him slowly over the years.

' NO. ' He shakes his leg free. Tricky little pest.

"But please?" She's latches on to him again and Jesus fucking Christ what the fuck about his current attire screams "I'm here to help you!". Because it sure as fuck isn't the mask or knives hidden away in his car.

By this time he's just decided to remove his gloves, throwing the used nitrile into the passenger seat of the open driver side door. The low light illuminates the tattoos that cover his hands. The letters on his knuckles moving slightly when he clenches his fists together. He's about to start typing again when the tiny voice breaks the silence. "Oh you painted your hands!" It's the stupidest fucking thing he's ever heard. They're tattoos, tattoos that decorate both arms from the knuckles up when he's not dressed for the job. But it's also the funniest thing he's ever heard and Jesse can't help the smile that stretches across his mangled face behind the mask. Children are so God damned innocent. A tiny hand removes itself from his slacks to grasp at his hand but Jesse moves it out of her way before she can grab it. A sad expression settles on her face but it quickly disappears as he hikes his slacks up by the knees, making it easier for him to bend down. He's eye level with her now and he sees almost instantly how her demeanor changes. Once more it's not fear (odd considering there's a giant man in a chrome skeleton mask right in front of her face), but rather elation.

She wastes no time in snatching one of his hands examining it. In the process his sleeve rides up to reveal more ink on his arm. "You colored your arm too?" She looks up to see him nod once slowly. This only sits off another tirade of questions. Jesse can't really answer them. Sure he could type them and let the phone do the talking but that’s too much fucking work. He's not sure if she understands sign language so no point in trying that. He settles for just nodding or shaking his head, short answers she's bound to understand.

"You don't talk much, huh?" It's not that he doesn't talk, it's that he can't talk. Most days Jesse would give anything to be able to express himself through voice, even if it meant giving his remaining eye. But he's always lived like this and there's no point in complaining about what can't be fixed. Plus it adds an intimidation aspect to him, something he rather enjoys.

"Can I come with you?" She asks again and this time Jesse studies her for a moment. He weighs the options in his head. She is alone and it would be awfully rude to simply leave her here by herself in the back of an alley. Seeing as Jesse is the perfect gentleman, he can't simply do that. It's hard to tell what will happen to her if he just leaves her here. Other people might say she's his responsibility because he obviously just fucking killed her mom, but from his point of view she didn't seem like a mother anyway. No loss in that department. He finally nods and there's just something about the way her tiny face lights up with delight that just wants to make him laugh. For having just met him, she seems very content to cling to him. Then an idea pops into his head. Wanting children and then having the possibility taken away, only to be rewarded with one. He can already hear Preston's annoying voice now, and honestly that's all the fucking push he needs.

Jesse stands to his full height with ease. The little girl follows him as he makes his way back to the car. She blinks at the automobile. "I've never seen a car like this before. Are you rich?" Very rich, he wants to say but settles for nodding. And if he has anything to say in the matter, she’ll be just as rich in a short time also.

---------

Jesse parks the car outside the warehouse his operation is currently running in, not bothering to make an effort to hide it. Besides he's not too worried about the police. He pulls open the back door and the little girl eagerly jumps into his arms, still talking a hundred miles an hour (something she's been doing for the last twenty minutes, but frankly he doesn't care). He walks them through the building's side door, being met instantly by Spann and then Preston, who's wearing that annoyingly fake 'happy to see you!' expression.

"Sir, we didn't expect you back until morning." Spann's soothing voice meets his ears. He responds with a shrug as he sees her eyes land on the child.

And then that voice grates on his ears. "Boss, you're fucking kidding, right?" It's followed by a nervous and unbelieving laugh. "I didn’t take you for the adopting strays sort of guy. Let alone, I think she's a little young for you." Preston laughs again but he's met with Spann's hard stare and Jesse's blood-curdling one. The implication that he has something planned is enough to make his mangled lip curl into a snarl under the mask.

It's then he places the girl in the other man's arms and begins typing on his phone. ' GET HER SETTLED IN AT HOME. ROOM. CLOTHES. SCHOOL. ' It's a clear statement and he doesn't plan on repeating himself.

"Might I commend you on how great of an idea having an apprentice is, Sir." Jesse makes a so-so movement with his hand then signs the word "daughter". Spann smiles widely. "Even better. I've always seen you as a family man." The both of them begin to make their way back to his office.

"Boss!" Preston looks between the kid in his arms and back to Jesse. "You're not serious."

The electronic voice meets his ears once again. ' DO IT NOW. '

"Boss!" The sound reaches his ears once more before he closes the door and sinks into his chair. A smile stretches across his face under the mask as Spann begins explaining plans to move the operation. Maybe Preston does have a use. Being the always available babysitter.

[dekuscrybaby]

Bakugou with a reader that is anorexic? Maybe bc she wants to look better in her hero outfit or she wants to be more like the rest of the girls in 1-A? Sorry if it’s a triggering topic!

hi, love!! thank you for requesting this!! i’m sorry it took a bit of time, i had to do a little bit of research so i don’t offend anyone who is dealing with something like this. i’m hoping i did i decent job at this but i’m sorry if it’s inaccurate or offensive, please feel free to educate me if something is wrong or too stereotypical. this is considered a triggering topic so i’ll be sure to add a warning and put the hcs under the cut for the sake of everyone. before you read, i just want to say that if you are dealing with something like this that you’re beautiful!! everyone deserves to feel great in their skin and seeking help does not mean you’re weak or anything, i hope every one of you is well. please stay healthy and my inbox and dms are open if you ever just want to chat or get something off your chest! also remember that society sucks ass and their opinion does not matter, you’re freaking awesome regardless!

TW: eating disorder below the cut!!!

bakugou with a fem s/o who’s anorexic

i’m going to be honest with you and i’m sorry if this sounds blunt but it’s what i hc

bakugou does not care what you look like!!!

you will always and i mean ALWAYS be beautiful to him in his eyes

he might not say it but he genuinely believes you are the most beautiful girl he’s seen and that’s kinda obvious bc he’s with you for a reason and that’s bc you're beautiful inside and out 😌💅

you’re his distraction from hero work 😳 but he really doesn’t mind bc you’re so damn pretty

now actually addressing the request!

bakugou is deadass head empty on hero course work so he might not notice the subtle signs of anorexia

he does notice that you stopped eating lunch with him as much as you used to but you would always use the school work as an excuse

and who is he to deny his girl his education?

so you’re in the clear for a little while until he starts to notice you look a bit sick

your once vibrant eyes now look dead and sunken in

but he just thinks you’re staying up too late for homework

he can only remind you to sleep some more before putting that thought aside

he next notices how your hair begins to fall out in clumps when he tries to run his fingers through your hair 

“it’s an allergic reaction to this hair mask i did the other night” he doesn’t quite believe it but he doesn’t want to doubt you so he’ll let it slide again

he starts to become extra suspicious when he finally gets you to eat lunch with him after so long

he notices that you’re adding a bunch of numbers together while you’re pointing at each item in your lunch 

his eyebrows are furrowed and he’s questioning why you’re counting until he notices a litter of bruises along your arm as your blazer rides up a little

instantly grips your arm and questions you

“why’re you bruised?”

“huh?”

he glances down at your exposed thighs and notices that your skirt fits a lot looser than he remembers

now that he’s looking at it, your blazer seems to fit loose too, and your shirt

“babe, what’s going on?” his voice is stern but not too angry, he’s dialing it back for you

you rip your arm from his grip, wincing as your skin is a lot more sensitive since you’ve stopped eating

“nothing” you grumble before leaving the cafeteria and going into the bathroom 

you can’t help but glance over your reflection, feeling sick at what you see, but that’s not your fault, your mind has been taken over by this disorder

as you’re poking around your tummy and thighs, mumbling about how you feel “disgusting”

the bell rings and you sigh before walking back to class, avoiding bakugou on your way back

the lack of food in your system makes it hard for you to concentrate in class so you’re almost dozing off until you hear everyone move around and suddenly bakugou’s in front of your desk

“are you deaf or something now?”

“hmm?”

“we’re practicing hand-to-hand combat, go get dressed in your gym uniform”

you do as your you’re told, making sure to change in a bathroom stall bc you don’t want to hear any remarks from your friends over how “disgusting” you look

you walk out onto the training field and bakugou’s eyes rake over your figure and this uniform also fits a lot more looser than he remembers

he’s slowly piecing it together but it’s still not completely pieced

he’s still deep in thought trying to figure out what’s going on and that’s when you’re called up for your turn

the moment you begin to exert your body, you pass out

bakugou goes ape shit after this and does not hesitate to take you to the nurse’s office 

seeing as you’re lacking nutrients, your instantly hooked onto an iv so you can regain everything you’ve been losing up to this point

bakugou had to plead and beg in order for recovery girl to let him in on what was happening

it took a lot of pleading and begging

once he’s filled in, he feels like a shitty boyfriend for not noticing sooner and he plans to have a few words with you when you wake up

so when you do wake up, you feel a something rough circling on the back of your hand and you freak out a little

you accidentally tug on the iv and it makes you a little uncomfortable until bakugou begins to comfort you, trying to make sure you don’t injure yourself 

once you’re calm, he stares at you with this look in his eyes that looks both angry and concerned, but it’s more concerned than anything

“what the hell was going through your mind, dumbass?”

“what are you talking about?” you still don’t want him to know

he sighs, “the old hag told me everything already. please, just let me in, tell me what’s wrong.”

you look away from his intense stare “nothing’s wrong”

“y/n, you passed out during training! and it wasn’t even bc you’ve been overworking yourself, you’ve been starving yourself. what’s going on?”

something about the look in his eyes and tone of his voice brings out the tears

you didn’t mean to worry him, but you did

so you spill 

“i’m so sorry.”

“hey, hey, hey. don’t be sorry. just tell me what’s wrong, maybe i can help,” he rubs gentle circles into your wrist

“i just- i hate the way i look. every time i look at myself, i feel so gross. especially in my hero suit and i found myself wanting to be as thin as the other girls. so i thought that if i stopped eating or at least limited my calorie intake, i’d lose all the unwanted weight.”

as you’re telling your story, bakugou’s frowning because he feels like he could’ve done a better job at expressing just how perfect you are in his eyes

“i didn’t think this would lead me into passing out and worrying you, i’m sorry for being stupid.”

“damn right you were being stupid.” he responds with his gruff voice

“huh?”

“i can’t believe you believed that dumb voice in your head.”

“‘suki what are you talking about?”

“i’m saying that you’re actually the most perfect girl in our class and i can’t believe you can’t see that. you definitely did not need to lose weight but if you really wanted to be healthier then there are better methods you could’ve followed instead of just hurting yourself. i think you look absolutely stunning in everything you wear including your hero costume. you’re hands down the hottest student in the hero course, after me of course. you’re the hottest girl in this damn school.”

that second to last line makes you giggle quietly, which he’s so glad to hear 

“but seriously, you’re absolutely perfect in my eyes. don’t change yourself because you want to look like everyone else. you really scared the shit out of me, don’t do it again, please. i will literally hype the fuck out of you every morning until you start to see how you perfect you are. i love you okay?”

you could only smile and nod, “i love you too.”

[shianhygge-imagines]

Middlemarch: Alternate Universe [Ravus/Reader] Finale

AN: This final chapter of Middlemarch was a long time coming. I’m so sorry for how long it took! 

There are purposely some stuff left unanswered and open ended, though if asked, I will elaborate on it :3

|Masterlist Link|

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

After the Trial of the Archean

It was immensely awkward, you decided in that moment. Why? Because after that moment of affection and intimacy from the High Commander, it seemed as if the both of you had taken five enormous steps backwards in terms of your relationship. Despite your past together as playmates, and despite the fact that he had saved you, Ravus still seemed to resent you immensely. The morning after you recovered your memories of your connection to Ravus, you’d been greeted with the old stoic and borderline antagonistic attitude you’d seen briefly. When confronted, Ravus had simply huffed, stated that nothing good could come of any relationship with a Lucian, he’d taken his paperwork and all but stomped out of the room. Occasionally, you’d see Ravus come check on your recovery progress, but it had been the last that you had personally spoken with him.

His eyes are not the same. You observed during one of his visits to check on your health. A metal arm, and a different colored eye. Probably from the aftermath of trying to wear the Ring of the Lucii. There were so many questions that you wanted to ask him. Why did you stop writing to me?

Had I done something wrong?

Why are you so cold to me now?

It’s been three days since you’d last spoken with the broody man, and the bitterness was starting to build up again. Just like it did when Noctis abandoned you in favor of his love, Lunafreya, you felt the loneliness build. Except, unlike the last times, where you had Ravus and then Cor, this time you had no one. With Ravus seemingly abandoning you as well, you’d been left as prey for the one person you knew who liked to mess with people the most.

Yes, as of right now, you were being dragged around from location to location by the Chancellor of Niflheim himself, Ardyn Izunia. You’d protested heavily when the auburn headed man practically stormed your room and swept you off your feet, carrying you like a sack of potatoes as he seemed to teleport in the same manner of those blessed by the Crystal.

Once Ardyn seemed to touch back down onto solid ground, he let you squirm out of his hold, aiming a rather mischievous look at you. “So? How was my driving?”

What in the- Driving? You groaned as your stomach turned unpleasantly, “I think I’m gonna puke.” You’d used the King’s power to phase and teleport before, but never through such a long distance. At least, you gathered this from the sudden fact that you were outside the airship, in a military base. Though appreciating the fact that Ardyn had given you some time to regain your footing, you still gave him a stern glare. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Aww. You don’t want to see your beloved friends? I thought I told you that your beloved Prince was waiting.” Ardyn pouted heavily, and while you admitted that the look worked for him, it still didn’t seem right that a man his age would pout. 

The twitching in your cheek came out of nowhere as you opened your mouth to shoot out a snarky reply. You were interrupted by a loud thud when you tried to snark back, bringing a halt to your statement as Ardyn tsked, waving his hand for you to follow. “Come hither. Wouldn’t want anyone getting killed now.”

Ardyn walked off before you could answer, leaving you following behind at a slow pace. What the hell is wrong with this guy?

“I’d say that’s far enough.” you suddenly heard Ardyn chide, like an adult scolding children, though you snickered at the irony. “A hand, Highness?” Your eyes narrowed, Highness?

“Not from you.”

“Oh, but I’m here to help.”

“And how is that?”

The familiar voices had you sprinting at full speed, catching Ravus’s eye as you practically slid around the corner to see your friends.

“By first bringing back something you lost.” you heard Ardyn answer.

“What do you mean by-”

“NOCT!” You practically screeched, sprinting past Ravus and Ardyn to glomp your friend.

All around you, there were gasps of surprise. The man in your arms froze, unable to move in his disbelief, afraid that everything was a dream. That you weren’t really in his arms. “Y-Y/N?”

“I’m so glad you’re all okay!” You cried in relief at seeing your childhood friends and brother.

“We thought you died!” Gladio looked on the verge of tears as he ran to engulf you and Noctis in a great hug. Prompto and Ignis followed soon after, and you allowed yourself to grin in happiness at being reunited with those you had considered your family.

“Y/N… You shouldn’t be running around so soon.” Ravus protested, extending a hand, something resembling worry passing over his face for just the briefest of moments. When you only ignored the older man, his face hardened, schooled into another stoic mask as he turned his attention to Ardyn. “I told you not to bother them.”

“I could let dear Y/N die of boredom, now could I?” Ardyn argued with a tone that suggested a lack of seriousness. “To torture your Little Light by abandoning them in that cold metal prison… how cruel.” The Chancellor tsked, a knowing glint to his eyes as he started to walk away. “Come now, Commander. Make haste.” His sly gaze spoke volumes as he stared at Noctis, “When next we meet, it’ll be across the seas. Just so happens we have business of our own with the tutelary deity, don’t we?” 

Ravus refused to acknowledge Ardyn, his gaze set upon your form, still surrounded by your friends. There was an almost pleading sadness to his eyes when he stared after you, but you stubbornly refused to acknowledge him in return. Something about Ardyn was hauntingly familiar as he bid the group farewell and walked away with Ravus. You shook your head in confusion, forcing your mind away from the matter, simply happy to have been reunited with Noctis and Gladio.

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

During the Trial of Leviathan

You missed being able to throw your weapon and teleport, especially now that the entirety of Altissia was under siege by the Hydraean and Niflheim forces. Noctis, Gladio, Prompto, and Ignis had all begged for you to stay with the evacuated civilians, but you couldn’t sit back and let your friends do all the fighting. The minute that the Hydraean appeared to answer Noctis’ call, you’d sprinted back into the city just before the waves rose to form a barrier. When the Niflheim airships encroached upon the city, seeming to head towards the Alter of the Tidemother, you sprinted faster, slipping the communications earpiece that Ignis had given you into your left ear. The floor rumbled as the waves shook the water bound city, and still you didn’t stumble. “Ignis? What’s going on?” “Y/N! Whatever you do, stay far away from the city!” It’s your brother’s voice that advises you from the earpiece, sounding like he was running somewhere.

“Uh…” You paused your sprint to look around for a higher vantage point, “Maybe too late for that.” There’s an exasperated groan from the other end of the comm link from your older brother. “Fine… just… play it safe, okay? I can’t lose you.”

You’re about to respond when an angry roar shakes the area. Stand on top of a building after having scaled the walkways and side tiles, you could see the Hydraean screech in anger from afar before attacking a flying speck… who you assumed to be Noctis. Remembering that you should have responded to Gladio, you spoke in a winded voice. “I’ll stay away from anything overwhelming, but it’s still my job to protect Noctis.” The tired sigh from Gladiolus brings a regretful frown to your face, knowing that your big brother only wanted you to be safe from harm. “I guess that’s all I can really ask for, huh… Love you, sis.” “Love you, too, big bro.” Was the response you gave before jumping towards another rooftop, making your way towards the Altar of the Tidemother.

You’re just about halfway to the altar when a bright beam lights up the sky, the ground shaking violently following. The Archenn rises from the water to challenge the Hydraean, and your comms piece crackles to life, Ignis’ voice filtering through. “Noct! Do you read me?” You could hear Ignis call over the comms unit before Titan slammed a fist into the water, creating a shockwave that knocked the approaching airships out of the sky and into the city. 

Too focused on keeping your balance on top of one of the Altissian buildings, you failed to notice that one of the airships had crashed into a towering piece of architecture, sending debris plummeting down around you.

“Ah! Damn!” You cursed, eyes darting around for a building that was still stable. When you didn’t see any to climb up towards, you sprinted over to the edge of the building, deciding that down into the water was better than getting crushed by pieces of building. “Let’s hope the water isn’t too turbulent.” You muttered before jumping off in a pencil dive.

Not even 15 minutes later

You coughed and sputtered as you tread water, once more having been knocked under the Altissian waters from the violent waves that crashed around the once beautiful city. The communication device fizzled in your ear, emitting only a few words from your brother, Prompto, and Ignis before dying from all the water damage.

“Great. Just great.” You muttered as you swam towards the closest ledge and pulled yourself out of the tepid water. Yanking the device out of your ear before it shocked you, you took a minute to rest your muscles, sea water dripping off your body as an exhausted groan left your lips. “Okay… Altar… that’s where I need to go.”

Climbing to your feet, you glanced around the street for any sign of enemies before allowing your gaze to drift upwards, wanting to get on top of another rooftop. Even among the rubble that littered the street, there wasn’t any easy way to climb up to the rooftops. “Okay then… I guess we’re doing this the old fashion way.” The sigh that escaped your lips was cut short by the distinct sound of a screeching Magitek soldier. “Astrals preserve me.” You cursed with a roll of your eyes, turning in place to summon your greatsword in a flash of crystalline light just as a large group of Niflheim puppet soldiers rounded the corner of the building towards you, surrounding you on all sides.

You’d seen the inhuman soldiers fight before, but had never personally fought one until now. As such, you remained a cautious distance away from the Niflheim puppets as they attacked with random patterns and seemingly zero team coordination. There was no technique for you to be weary of, no pattern for you to exploit. Just the overwhelming number of them. They were just mindless toys of the Niflheim Empire, but that was fine. You’d faced greater odds before. It took a little bit of time on your part, as well as the use of some thunder elemancy, but all the Magitek soldiers eventually fell at your feet.

“Waste of my time!” You growled, moving to scale the nearest wall in order to get a better vantage point of the city. Explosions and gunfire could be heard all around you, though you barely paid attention to anything besides the beam of light from the Altar. “Gotta get to Noct and Luna.” You muttered before sprint forward once more, doing your best to dodge the magitek armors that patrolled the ruins near the Altar.

The closer you came to the Altar, you began to notice the skies darken, rain falling as the Archaean and Hydraean departed. The beam of bright light that was once your waypoint dimmed and disappeared just as you rounded the corner and onto the path towards the altar. “No, no, no, no!” You pleaded under your breath, “Please don’t be too late to save them.”

For all the resentment you held towards Lunafreya, you didn’t hate the older woman. She had supported and protected Noctis during the darkest times of his childhood, and you swore to protect those that your King cared for.

But now, as your eyes took in the scene before you… of two tall familiar figures standing over the fallen lovers, you realized that you’d failed. The radiant glow from Lady Lunafreya dimmed until it was extinguished, though you still forced your tired feet to stumble forward, stopping to stand beside Ravus and Ignis, an expression of horror on your face.

“No…” the grief in Ravus’ voice gave you pause as he stumbled disbelieving towards Luna’s body. You could understand part of the grief, having lost your father only days before, but you couldn’t imagine losing your entire family. 

“Ravus…” you lifted a hand to reach out to him, but the Prince of Tenebrae continued forward, a growl to his tone.

“First, the Lucians stole from me my mother…” Your breathing paused as you scrambled through your memory for what little you remembered of the old reports on the attack. We didn’t… But we weren’t the ones that killed the Queen. Eyes darting to rest on Ravus’ back, your body tensed as he continued to speak, drawing his sword to strike down the unconscious Noctis. “And now they make a sacrifice of my sister!”

Ignis reacts just a split second faster than you do, stopping Ravus’ downward strike. Bewildered and still shocked from the lack of life in both Lunafreya and Noctis, you missed the two protectors’ exchange until Ignis roughly shoved Ravus back, taking the enraged and grief-stricken Prince on and pleading for him to return to his senses.

Trusting Ignis to handle calming Ravus down, you dashed forward and fell to your knees, checking both Oracle and King for heartbeats. “If I can do one thing right this day, please let it be to save them.” You pray, utilizing what little first aid you learned. As was expected of a King’s Sworn Shield, you confirmed that Noctis was okay first before moving onto Lady Lunafreya. The rain had long since washed away most of the evidence, but from the trail of blood from the altar proper to where the two lovers lay, you knew that Luna had lost too much blood for your meager first aid to be able to do anything about. Still, you worked to staunch the bleeding, using as much Curative Magic as your body could produce, hoping that you could at least prolong her life enough for proper aid to arrive.

Don’t die, You begged, pulling at all your magical reserves as you forced yourself to use the unnatural magic. Don’t die, Lunafreya. Don’t leave Noctis. Don’t leave Ravus. Please! Healing magic was never supposed to be used by a Lucian, only the Oracles of Tenebrae, and despite using everything you had in your body, the spell did nothing. Exhausted and without energy, you slouched forward with a miserable sob. “No! What good am I if I can’t even save one life?”

Before you knew it, a body sank heavily to the floor beside you, reaching out towards Luna’s body. “But… part of me always hoped… that I might see you happy one day. Your burdens lifted, free to live and love as you please.” Your eyes darted away from such a private moment between brother and sister, though it didn’t stop you from hearing, “You would have made a beautiful bride.”

Your eyes darted to stare at Noctis, silently agreeing that Luna would indeed have made a beautiful bride for Noctis. The Fates are cruel. You lamented as the darkness was briefly illuminated by Luna’s passing, her spirit appearing above the water… beautiful, benevolent, and lively as she smiled towards her brother, who begged for her not to go. And as you watched Ravus sob, something within you mourned with him.

Once upon a time, Ravus had been the light to coax you away from the darkness. As you shifted weakly to sit beside him, you knew that it was time you acted as his light.

Hesitantly, you extended a trembling hand to rest on his Magitek arm, drawing mournful heterochromatic eyes to your own. Nothing was said between the two of you, though Ravus raised his right hand to grasp your own. 

Please stay with me. His eyes plead, tears trailing downwards with the rain.

A squeeze of your hand was all the answer that the Prince needed, I won’t leave you.

After a small lot of time, the group of you could hear thudding footsteps approach. “Gladio!” You raised your head from where it rested on Ravus’ shoulder to stare at your older brother, only to furrow when he ignored Ignis’ follow up questions in favor of staring at the man beside you.

“Well, well.” Your brother muttered a little too elegantly as he approached. “What have we here?”

You rose, your greatsword summoned with the intention to block your brother’s attack upon Ravus, but even summoning your weapon proved too exhausting, and you slipped, slumping into Ravus’ firm back, which remained steady even as he blocked Gladio’s strike, “You… “ Ravus growled, staring up at your brother’s towering form. “Ardyn.”

“Ardyn?” Blinking in confusion, you watched in horror as the illusion dropped, and Ardyn Izunia stood before the lot of you, Niflheim soldiers surging forward to detain all of you.

Watching as they manhandled Ignis and Ravus ignited a fury within you. And despite how exhausted you already were, you called upon the power bestowed to you by the late King Regis. A powerful surge of electricity discharged from your body, shocking the troops around you and Ravus enough for the Prince to distract Ardyn. Weakened from reaching far over your limit, you reacted too late to block the descent of Ardyn’s arm to your neck, hearing only the cry of your name from Ignis and Ravus before your vision went black and you slumped forward into the Chancellor.

The next you woke, Noctis had sealed himself into the Crystal and eternal night had fallen over the world.

Y/N

I know if you were awake, you would have yelled at me for doing this. But I have a destiny to fulfill. I wanted to be there for you when you woke up, but the world couldn’t wait. While I take care of what I need to, I’m leaving everything to you, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto. And do me a favor? Live for yourself. I know you spent your entire life training to protect me, but I don’t want your life to go to waste. Ravus promised me that you’d be safe in Tenebrae, and I hope that when I do return, you’ll have your own story to tell me.

With Love,

Noctis

You sighed as you read the letter in your hand for probably the fiftieth time since you woke up. The pristine room seemed to taunt you as you sat in the soft bed, mulling over Noctis’ request. “Live for myself, huh?” An anxious laugh escaped your lips, “How to even begin…”

“You could start by trying to leave the bed.” A voice suggested dryly from the room entrance.

The smile that rose to your lips didn’t go unnoticed as Ravus stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him as he balanced a tray of food you. “Good morning, Ravus.” You greeted your host… though caretaker seemed a more appropriate title for the Prince of Tenebrae at that point.

Setting the tray of food down onto the small tea table, Ravus strolled forward to extend a hand, urging you to your feet gently as he stood by you for support. “It is actually closer to the afternoon, but that is of no consequence.” With one arm supporting your waist, the ex-Commander extended his left arm to pull out a plush chair before guiding you to the seat. “You should eat to recover your strength.” The last of the Nox Fleurets suggested, buttering a slice of bread for you before handing it over.

Muttering a soft ‘thank you,’ you took the buttered croissant, noting with affection that Ravus had remembered your love of spreading a copious amount of butter onto your bread. “You remembered how I like my butter.”

The ex-High Commander allowed his lips to curl at the edges, “I don’t think I could ever forget your bad habits.”

“Hmph.” You stuck your nose up and pouted haughtily as you bit into the bread, chewing and swallowing before answering Ravus. “Butter makes everything better, Rae.” Ravus merely continued to smile, his only answer being a soft chuckle as he set about fixing you a cup of tea. 

Now that he wasn’t looking at you so closely, you could see the well hidden exhaustion on the twenty-eight year old. Having been trained to read people, you could tell that recent events had truly taken a toll on your childhood friend. “I can practically feel your stare burning a hole into me, Y/N.” Ravus’ blue and purple eyes suddenly meet yours, “I suspect you have some questions.” Unfortunately, you were never that subtle with your observations…

Licking your lips to get rid of the butter and crumbs, but also as a nervous habit, you set the croissant down. “I understand all that Ignis told me… about the Starscourge… about Ardyn’s true identity… and about Noctis’ role in all this. But what I don’t understand is why I’m here in Tenebrae. I appreciate what you’ve done for my friends and I… and I’m more grateful that you’ve allowed me to stay here but… Surely your contempt of Lucians has not magically disappeared.”

“You needed a safe place to rest and recover.”

“I could have done that in Lucis. My brother and sister would have looked after me.” You quickly refuted Ravus’ reasoning. “Ravus… I know you promised to protect me when we were children… but… in light of what happened… I don’t think you should feel obligated to protect me.”

Blue and purple eyes gazed upon you with hurt and outrage, “You think that I allowed your stay here out of some misplaced sense of obligation?”

Not letting his tone affect you, you merely stared back at the Tenebraen Prince calmly, “Ravus… What else am I supposed to think of this situation? You cut off all connection with me for over ten years, and when I see you again, you make it no mystery that you abhor Lucians. And now, for whatever reason, you’ve suddenly taken an interest in my well-being.” Ravus almost looked ashamed for a moment, “So, I’m asking you now, Ravus. Why am I here?”

The silence that descended upon the room was tense and awkward. And when Ravus wouldn’t meet your eyes, you just wanted to kick yourself. And why can’t I keep my fat mouth shut. He was being nice, Y/N. Nice after ten years of ignoring your existence. And now he’s lost his little sister, and you’re being ungrateful. Sighing heavily, you took a breath before speaking, an apology on the tip of your tongue.

“Ravus, I-”

“... Is it too much to not wish to be alone?” 

The heartbroken and stressed edge to Ravus’ voice brought a wince to your face. And there you go, Y/N. Congratulations on being the most insensitive a-hole on this side of the planet. “Rae…”

“My sister is dead, Y/N. The last of my family has been taken from me and I…” His voice caught as his head turned to look in your direction, tearful eyes meeting yours. “She was all I had left. And now I have nothing.” You weren’t entirely sure if Ravus had even allowed himself to mourn. “Would you fault me for wanting a friend?”

You were on your feet before your brain had time to think about it. It’s not too much to ask. You want to say, but what leaves your lips is, “I’m here.” Your legs fail the moment that you put weight on them, and while you don’t scream or emote, you cry on the inside when Ravus catches you. WHAT IS THIS HORRIBLE CLICHE. 

Hoping that the moment hadn’t been ruined as you’re gently guided to the floor, you continue to speak, sinking to your knees alongside Ravus. “I’ll be here for you, Ravus. Until you no longer need me.”

Something in Ravus’ expression cracks and he pulls you close, embracing you as his body trembles, “Oh, Little Light. I don’t think there will be a time where I won’t need you.”

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

[ahwuum]

I absolutely love freewood with mute! Ryan and bcs this is me, how about throwing some angst into it? Like Ryan and Gav went undercover and things goes just as planned UNTIL Gav mis-steps and their disguise was blown. One of the bad guys get to Gav when they were seperated and Gav didnt realise the bad guy but Ryan did and he tried to warn gav but oh god he cant talk and gav too far away to notice him and the bad guys aiming his gun at Gav and Ryan sprinting to save him but the gun when off...

Yesss I love this so much omg! I decided to write a little something for it quick, sorry it took a while aha

‘All clear?’ Ryan signs to him once they’ve creeped up along the walls of the complex to the entry door, waiting while Gavin checks the security cameras from his phone.

‘Yep, the loop’s started now, so we have a few minutes before the next guard makes his round, but it shouldn’t take much longer than a minute to transfer the files. Let’s go.’ Gavin signs back, grinning and giving him a thumbs up before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the keycard he’d swiped from the guard at the gate and pressing it against the scanner.

Green light. Go.

They move quickly, quietly, the layout of the entire underground complex committed to both of their memories by this point. The server room they need to get to is down a set of stairs, through another locked door and then on the left.

It’s so easy it’s like they’re begging to have all their information stolen.

Bank details, safe house locations, weapons stache, upcoming deals, heist plans, active jobs, all invaluable information that the FAHC could definitely use. All conveniently held in the one server room in an underground complex that, sure, has plenty of armed guards and locked doors that you need a keycard to get through, but beyond that has almost no security.

It’s so easy that Ryan starts to think that maybe they are begging to have their information stolen, especially as they get further in and still come across no guards.

Of course, that had been part of the plan, only one guard making the rounds of this particular wing, and no foreseeable reason as to why any other guards would be down in this area. But it makes him nervous.

What kind of crew leaves their server room so unprotected? What kind of crew would even put all of their information on the one server that could so easily be broken into? What kind of crew—especially one this big—would leave just one guard standing watch at the only way into their secret underground complex?

He slows down only for a moment as his creeping suspicion becomes genuine concern and anxiety, head swivelling around as he tries to spot anything amiss around them.

In the time he takes to look around, Gavin’s gone ahead of him, unaware that Ryan’s stopped as he continues toward the door. He notices too late that Gavin’s going to open it, that he hasn’t come to the same realisation as Ryan and he’s going to open that door and get shot-

‘Gavin, wait!’ He signs frantically, trying to wave his arms in the hope that the blur of motion might catch in the corner of Gavin’s eye and he might turn to look.

In the moment he wishes desperately for his voice back. He hasn’t had it since he was a child, mouth probably doesn’t even remember how to form words anymore, but-

But if he could just yell, just get Gavin’s attention so he can save his damn life because he’s too far to run and stop him before he’ll open the door and his brain is running on too much adrenaline to remember that he could clap his hands, could hit the glass window next to him or-

Gavin presses the key card against the lock. Green light. Go.

He’s shot before he can even get the door fully open, body tumbling backwards like a doll being tossed onto the floor. Luckily, the door closes with him and Ryan’s bolting to catch up to him, picking him up bridal style and holding him tight against his chest as he turns heal and sprints in the other direction.

They knew.

They fucking knew.

Deciding the fact that their crew having a fucking mole is something he’ll be pissed about later, he instead focuses all his energy on slowing his brain down enough that he can remember the layout like before, remember what hallways go where so he can find an alternate exit because he knows that this crew isn’t stupid enough to leave the way they came in clear. There’s probably a dozen guards already waiting.

He can’t even let the rest of the crew know what’s going on; he doesn’t have a comm (for obvious reasons) and Gavin’s got lost somewhere in the chaos. They’re completely alone, no way to ask for help now.

Gavin’s practically limp against him, barely clutching onto him with trembling fingers as his eyes look around blankly like a drunk person’s. He’s gulping air like a fish out of water, rasping and coughing, blood dribbling out of his gaping mouth and rolling down his neck.

It’s not a pretty sight.

Ryan’s seen worse in all his years, sure, but nothing could compare to seeing Gavin with a bullet in both his shoulder and his gut.

They’re lucky he only got tagged twice, fuck.

It could have been so much worse. It could have been so much worse, but it also could have been avoided completely, if he had have just been able to warn him-

“Ryan,” Gavin rasps out, his eyes starting to focus more as the shock wears off a little, “Ryan, go through that door on the right.”

He follows without thinking (though perhaps he should have taken a moment to think twice about it considering the fact that Gavin looks ready to pass out), the door opening up to what looks like a break room. It’s small, with a tiny kitchen stuffed into the corner and a few shitty little tables scattered about.

It’s a dead end, they’re trapped.

He purses his lips and glares down at Gavin accusingly since he can’t really use his hands now, though he’s not sure if that even comes across through his skull mask.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re thinking I’m an idiot now, aren’t you?” Gavin laughs weakly, reaching up with a bloodied hand to give the side of his mask a couple of patronising taps, “but even when I’m shot I’m bloody brilliant; I might’ve just saved your life.”

Ryan looks down at him questioningly, then turns his gaze to the room. There really is nothing special in here; a fridge, a sink, some countertops with a microwave sitting on top, a few cabinets and a vending machine—nothing they can use!

He’s about to drop him on the ground out of pure spite when Gavin rolls his eyes, grabs his chin through the mask and tilts it upwards.

There, up on the wall right above the fridge, is an air vent.

He looks down at Gavin incredulously like he’s the biggest moron alive, deciding to set him down in one of the chairs so he can actually talk.

‘Are you an idiot? This isn’t like in the movies, Gav! There’s no way we’ll fit in there!’

“Relax,” Gavin says, holding onto his side as he slumps down in the chair, “don’t you remember what I said? This is an old building, industrial. Used to be a factory decades ago and they’re still in the middle of renovating. That means the vents are bigger, they needed them to be to pump out all the fumes right? Might be tight but you can do it.”

Ryan looks over at the vent. It is quite big, but big enough to fit a person? Let alone someone as big and bulky as he is? No.

He loves Gavin dearly, but he really does want to strangle the lights out of him right now for being this stupid.

“So you go, I’ll hold them off as long as I can, it’ll be impossible to take me with you in there-” Ryan cuts Gavin off as he’s pulling his pistol from his boot, grabbing his wrist and kneeling so Gavin is looking at his eyes through the mask.

‘I won’t fit. Won’t leave you either. We’re just going to have to fight our way out. Might be harder now since we’re stuck in here and they’re probably already surrounding us-’ Ryan signs, pausing as they hear sets of boots running past the door, ‘but I trust you to cover me. We’ll get out of this.’

“Ryan, just go! I’m already shot, I’m just dead weight to you now so stop being a prick and just-”

Ryan huffs, stomping over to the fridge, climbing up onto the countertop and reaching up to yank the cover from the vent. He tries to crawl in just a little, pushing against the fridge and trying to shove his shoulders through the gap, but no use. Like he’d thought, it’s way too small.

‘See?’ He signs as he climbs back down, returning to Gavin.

“Oh,” he says softly, “I really thought it’d be big enough… And this vent leads right outside near the gate, too! It would have been perfect. God, I’m so sorry Ryan, I’m such an idiot. I didn’t save you, I’ve doomed us both!”

Ryan sighs and kneels back down in front of Gavin, cupping a hand to his cheek for a moment. When he pulls it back, it leaves a trail of Gavin’s own blood on his face.

‘It’s alright, maybe those guys we heard run by earlier came from the entry. We might be able to double back and go out the way we came, now. Or we’ll just have to fight our way out. Either way, I’ll make sure we get back home.’

Gavin takes a moment, then nods shakily, resting his gun against his thigh as Ryan hooks his arm underneath his knees and picks him up bridal style again.

They open the door quietly, Ryan peeking his head and looking around down the hallway for any guards before deciding it’s clear and pushing ahead.

They hadn’t made it very far into the building, the set of stairs they came down only a few hundred yards away and their path seemingly clear for now as Ryan jogs in a beeline for the stairs.

“Here!” He hears a guy yell from the hallway next to them, any further yelling silenced with a shot from Gavin’s pistol. All it takes is that one yell, that one shot for everyone to know where they are. Ryan’s booking it as fast as he can, now, just hoping that Gavin can manage to still shoot with his signature golden gun shaking in his hands.

His eyes are starting to droop, now.

Pushing through the burn in his legs and his lungs, Ryan makes his way to the stairs, climbing up them two at a time as Gavin starts to slump more and more in his arms, the gun in his hands starting to slip a little.

Come on, come on, he thinks, just a little longer, just a little longer…

They burst through the entry door at the top of the stairs, making it out onto the concrete courtyard before Ryan hears the familiar whirring of helicopter blades.

He looks up expecting the worst, expecting this shitty fucking crew to have had another surprise hidden up their sleeve as a helicopter starts to dip down towards the compound. Then he sees their logo.

He’s never felt so much relief as when he sees that familiar, stupid duck painting onto the side of the FAHC’s very own private helicopter; it’s possibly only rivalled by the relief he feels at seeing their entire crew out in force.

Jack’s piloting as usual, Michael and Jeremy hanging out from the side and firing bullets at the guards flooding up from downstairs, Fiona and Matt he can see doing the same from the other side, and Geoff hanging from a rope ladder, extending his hand down to Ryan as Jack lowers the helicopter enough to reach him.

“I’ve got you, we’ve got you.” Geoff yells over the whirring of the blades, yanking on Ryan’s jacket and holding him close as tightly as he can as he climbs onto the ladder. It’s an awkward task, what with Gavin in his arms, but eventually he manages to cling on and keep Gavin tight against his chest, Geoff climbing up above them until he’s back in the helicopter.

They pull the ladder back up slowly, Jack quickly veering the helicopter away from the complex as bullets fly all around them, some nicking the side and some whizzing just below the rotors, barely missing them all.

Eventually they’re pulled up into the helicopter as well, Ryan cushioning Gavin from the fall as they flop onto the floor. He doesn’t even need to look at him to know that he’s passed out by now.

In fact he doesn’t want to look at him, knowing that all he’ll see is an all-too-pale face and copious amounts of blood covering them both. Instead he sits up, presses his back against the door that Michael’s just shut behind him and holds Gavin tightly in his lap.

They made it.

“We heard shots going off through Gav’s comm, came as soon as we could.” Jeremy says as Geoff moves back to his seat in the front and everyone starts buckling back in again, looking over at Ryan and Gavin with worry, “You alright?

Ryan takes a shuddering breath, peeling his hands off Gavin’s back carefully and wincing when they come back sticky with blood.

“No,” he signs, hands shaking, “No, I’m not.”

Ok this is done aa, thank you for this lovely ask!!

Oh and just as an end note: this absolutely never happens again. After this Gavin helps make Ryan a new comm that he can use different commands with to say different things when he can’t get the attention of the others and he needs to say something to them. It’s very limited but it’s basically just so they know to look at him/can be warned/can be given answers to questions when Ryan has to break off from the rest of the guys during a heist gone wrong or something

Gavin probably spends WEEKS on it non-stop after seeing how upset and guilty Ryan feels at not being able to warn him.

[leoamber66]

What would the bidders do in the COVID-19 Pandemic or a Pandemic in general?

I did this based on S5 and S6 and some substories~  :)

Sorry, some vary in length and sorry if it’s not good anon and there is some suggestive content in here! Trigger Warning ahead about pandemics so please turn away if you are uncomfortable with it! 

As always feedback is much appreciated!

A special thanks to @voltage-vixen @the-voltage-diaries for giving me feedback and tips on this!

Eisuke:

-“MC, you’re taking time off until this situation settles down.”

-“What!? I can’t take that much time off Eisuke!”

-“Just do as I say. You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

-“Eisuke, I want to work at the hotel and take care of the guests! They’re all panicking at a time like this, so I want to do my best to help everyone! Please!”

-MC would beg him for a bit and he’d finally give in to her puppy dog eyes.

-“...Not a step outside the hotel and you come back to the penthouse the instant your shift ends.”

-MC thinks he’s being hella extra and holds back an exasperated smile.

-“Yes, sir.”

-Eisuke always gives her a kiss before leaving. A very steamy kiss ;)

-He’d probably either force and try to force MC to wear a mask at work.

-And he really doesn’t let MC leave their penthouse other than for work. And he gets everything delivered to the penthouse.

-He works in the penthouse mostly on his laptop at this time but will go out if absolutely necessary for business meetings or to sign a contract.

-He’d do his best and be extra af to make sure MC is entertained ~~and satisfied wink wonk ;)~~ and not panicking from the current crisis.

-You can also expect him to be stocked up on toilet paper and paper towels.

Soryu:

-“MC, I’m heading out now. Be careful at work.”

-Soryu knows it's probably impossible to convince MC to not go to work for the whole pandemic so he tells her to be careful and urges her to come home quickly as soon as her shift ends. MC agrees but she’s much more worried about him

-“I promise Soryu, but I want you to be careful. Tell the Dragons too for me okay?”

-“We will MC, but you don’t need to worry about me or the Dragons, we’ll be just fine.” 

-MC hesitates to tell him how she’s really feeling worrying that she might annoy him but she goes ahead anyway.

-“I know but you and the Dragons are my family too, so of course I’m worried! And...I want you to come home to me quickly.”

-Soryu tries to fight off the smile spreading on his face and fails lol. He gives her a kiss on her forehead then one on her lips before leaving.

-“Okay, I promise.”

-He lets MC go grocery shopping but tries to come with her as much as possible.

 -Although Soryu has the best poker face on the inside he’s really worried about the Dragons and MC, so he tries to make sure the Dragons don’t have to go out too much for “work”.

-Instead of buying tons of toilet paper and paper towels, he stocks up on eggs.

-OMELETS FTW

Bonus:

Baba:

-Honestly, it’ll make Baba’s “job” a lot easier since it’s very secluded in most places making it easier for him to infiltrate and steal whatever he needs to.

-“Be careful Baba.”

-“I will, can’t be worrying my Princess ;)”

-“...Come home quickly.”

-“Hmmm? Does my Princess miss me that much when I’m not home?”

-Baba teases MC hoping to ease her worry but she surprises him by saying

-“...Yeah, I do. Whenever your not with me, I miss you so much I can’t stand it. So please hurry home to me.”

-MC says that while looking at him with puppy dog eyes and blushing slightly.

-Baba would be surprised at MC’s honesty and start blushing.

-“That’s against the rules... Ah, you’re too cute!”

-“B-Baba?!”

-Baba can’t hold back from kissing MC and...WINK WONK ;)

-You know what happens ;) * ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

-MC will be VERY worried since he goes around to a lot of places and has contact with a lot of people, and always has a bath and dinner ready for him every day. If Baba comes home earlier then MC, then he would cook for her, and definitely pamper MC I mean he always does lol

-Baba would be home a lot more often and will probably only go out to steal if absolutely necessary and he’d donate a lot of money to those who are having an especially hard time with the pandemic.

-At first, he’s really worried about letting MC go to work but doesn’t say anything and just tells her to be careful. But MC knows and assures him she’ll be careful and why she wants to keep working.

-He’d go get their essentials or get delivery to their suite in case MC gets worried. And in a sense, he’s kinda glad to be home more often so he can spend more time with MC.

-“Now I can devote most of my time to my Princess ;) <3”

Ota:

-“Now I can play with you and Thumper more, Koro!”

-“I’m not a dog, Ota…”

-He’d tease MC more because he knows that she’s probably worried and doesn’t want her or the baby being stressed.

-Man, if you thought he was a protective dad before WRONG.

-He’s extremely overprotective this time around. 

-He’d definitely stay home more often so he can keep an eye on MC and works at home.

-He’ll actually probably force MC to stop working and because he’s extremely worried about the health of her and the baby.

-If she’s feeling down about not working, he’d let her do some light cleaning in their suite and MAYBE the penthouse lounge as long as-

-“As long as those old dudes aren’t there, you can clean there. But don’t you dare lift anything heavy or bend down too much.”

-“I won’t! I promise Ota.”

-MC finally perks up at this and reassures him with a smile that she’ll be careful.

-Dammit, why is she so cute?! 

-He’d give her a kiss and Thumper a kiss (Kiss on the belly).

-“Good girl.”

Mamoru:

-MC would be SUPER worried because nowadays Mamoru doesn’t slack off as much but with the current situation…

-She would send him off with a kiss, and lunch packed and tells him over and over again to be careful.

-“Mamo, be careful today, make sure you-”

-He’d just listen to her with a smile and wait for her to finish.

-“Alright. You be careful at work too, kid.”

-He’d mess up MC’s hair and give her another quick kiss before leaving.

-MC would usually get home before him and have dinner and a bath ready for him.

-When he comes home:

-“Welcome back, Mamoru!”

-“Mmm, damn that smells good!”

-MC closes her eyes in expectation for a kiss, but Mamoru quickly walks right past her into the bathroom to take a bath.

-MC is shocked and kinda irked that he didn’t kiss her before going and pouts.

-“Mamo, you forgot my kiss!”

-Mamoru pretends to not hear her and starts taking a bath.

-MC pouts on the sofa and waits for Mamoru to come out.

-“What are you poutin for?”

-She feels a poke on her cheek and looks up to see Mamoru fresh from the bath looking down at her curiously.

-“Hmph! You forgot my welcome home kiss!”

-“Oh, that?”

-She looks up at him and sees a slightly exasperated smile on his face.

-“Well, I was around a lot of places today and in case I did catch somethin, didn’t wanna pass it to ya sweetheart.”

-He blushes and little and MC smiles at him after hearing his reasons.

-“Hehe, you’re so cute.”

-She pulls his face closer to hers and gives him a kiss.

-He pats her head and pulls her closer to kiss her deeper.

Shuichi:

-Supplies wise, Shuichi would be prepared for the pandemic. He always stocks up on supplies in general and in case of situations like this happening. 

-What he would be worried about is the panic amongst citizens and MC.

-He’d try to get her to take some time off of work, but MC would refuse saying she wants to help and keep working, so he’d relent reluctantly.

-He’d make sure every corner of their suite is clean.

-He’d make sure both himself, MC and his cactuses stay healthy.

-MC and him would take turns cooking.

-And according to their rules, MC takes a bath first but he’d probably hop in with her sometimes and wink wonk ;)

-He’d jump into the bath as soon as he comes home and avoids touching MC before he’s taken his bath.

-He’d probably be home less often since he’s dealing with the pandemic uproar.

-He’d make sure MC takes a bath right away after coming home from work.

-Both MC and Shuichi would be extra careful when going out or when coming back home, but aside from that their usual routine would be the same.

-MC would definitely wait up for him if he comes home later than usual, and vice versa.

-“I’m home.”

“Welcome home Shuichi!”

“W-wait! Don’t start stripping out of nowhere!!”

As you may know, Shuichi doesn’t like wearing clothes at home and is a nudist.

“I’m gonna take them off later anyway, so why does it matter?”

“Huh?”

He smirks as he pulls MC closer to him and kisses her.

“Today is Friday after all.”

Luke:

-Luke would hardly be home because he would have so many patients at this time.

-MC would be worried since he doesn’t eat without her telling him to and doesn’t sleep without her.

-They both take a bath right away after coming home before going to sleep because they won’t want the other getting sick in any case, but Luke comes home at really late hours.

-MC cooks dinner for him and leaves it aside, and tries to wait up for him.

-But MC is tired from work and has work to do the next day so she can’t wait up too long for him even though she tries every day and ends up falling asleep on the sofa.

-Luke would sometimes not be able come home, but when he comes home and sees MC who was waiting up for him knocked out on the sofa his heart melts :’) 

-He notices the food set aside but decides to take MC to bed first and princess carries her to bed.

-He goes back to put the food away, but thinks about how MC made this for him to eat and decides to eat it.

-When they DO catch each other while awake, MC practically runs over to him.

-They both hug each other tightly and Luke gives her a passionate kiss ;)

-But she notices the dark circles under his eyes and pulls away.

-“Luke honey, I think you should get some sleep, you look pretty tired.”

-He’d just pull her closer and lean down closer towards her.

-“Your heart is racing...”

-He’d place his hand on her heart and hear it thundering beneath his palm.

-“I-It’s because you're touching me…” 

-Hearing this he can’t hold back anymore and he sweeps MC off her feet.

-“Waaah!”

-He’d lean down and kiss her collarbones, leaving red marks here and there.

-“You're the only recharge I need, Sexy Bones.”         

Hikaru:

-They’d both be swamped with work so they’d hardly see each other. 

-Their shifts would probably be at different times so they can’t really see each other at work either.         

-MC is worried about him so she leaves food for him in the fridge and puts post-it notes on the fridge so that he’ll see it.

-Hikaru would come home dead tired and go to the fridge to get an energy drink when he sees MC’s post-it.

-I made you some dinner in case you get hungry! Be careful and try not to work too hard! I love you.        

 -MC

“That idiot…”

-He’d mumble that under his breath but he’d be smiling on the outside and a blushing mess on the inside.

-Ahhhh! Why’s she so cute!?

-He’d eat whatever MC left him and scribble down a post-it note of his own and leave it on the fridge.

-MC would come home and get ready for bed and notice the post-it on the fridge and read it.

-Thanks for the food. Be careful too and I love you too. 

-Hikaru

-MC smiles at the slightly crumpled post-it note and his sloppy handwriting.

-Ahhhh! Why’s he so cute!?

-When the two finally do get a break that aligns with each other they’d both cuddle together in bed and watch Netflix on Hikaru’s laptop.

-They’d both fall asleep leaned against each other with his laptop still open :) <3

Rhion:

-Social Distancing? No problem, he’s done that for years.

-MC going out more often and not coming home till very late? Big problem.

-Rhion already doesn’t like MC going out for too long since he gets really lonely without her, and to hear that she'd be gone for a lot longer? He’s gonna be a hot mess.

-Over the years of their relationship together, Rhion’s kinda learned to mask his loneliness in front of MC so she doesn’t know.

-Or so he thinks.

-MC does know that Rhion gets sad and lonely when she leaves. 

-She doesn’t miss that slight pout that crosses his face when she says she’s leaving for work or the sigh that escapes from him before she opens the door to leave, so she does her best to hurry him as soon as her shift ends.

-“I’ll be home as soon as I can, Rhion!”

-“Okay! Be careful MC.”

-Rhion would say that with a huge smile on his face.

-The moment the door closes behind MC, his face falls and he looks longingly at the door waiting for his beloved Alice to return to his arms.

-He’d dress up in his Mad Hatter costume and have a tea party with Cheshire to try and ease his anxiety.

-“Do you think Alice is okay, Cheshire? I hope she comes home soon…”

-Rhion would try to pass time by reading or playing with Cheshire but would glance at the clock every 5 minutes.

-Soon hours and hours pass, and Rhion just sits there hugging his knees anxiously waiting for MC to return not even bothering to eat.

-The moment the door opens, Rhion would come running towards the door with his arms open and the biggest smile on his face.

-You’d honestly think he won the lottery :’)

-However…

-“Wait Rhion! Stop!”

-Rhion would abruptly freeze in place before he could throw his arms around MC and MC would slip past him and go into the bathroom.

-“Sorry Rhion! I wanna take a bath first before we cuddle.”

-“Oh, okay!”

-Rhion would pretend to act nonchalant about it but the moment the bathroom door closes he would stomp his foot and pout. 

-He’d would sit on the ground with his arms crossed, waiting in frustration for MC to come out.

-After MC’s done with her bath she’d come out and see him pouting and smile. Then she’d sneak up behind him and hug him tightly from behind.

-“Sorry I’m so late, forgive me?”

-Rhion wouldn’t say anything but would turn around and hug MC back tightly, letting her know that all is forgiven :)

Fin~

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 25: AMJ #2.1

Previous Part

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Master Post

Just like the first issue, I’m going to go through the issue page by page.

Believe it or not. the problems literally start on the recap page.

For starters check out this line:

....and staffed with outsiders (like MJ) whenever possible...

This is incredibly odd as it seemingly contradicts what issue #1 established.

I say seemingly because it depends upon how you define ‘outsiders’. Outside of what exactly?

The Hollywood system?

Traditional film or TV circles?

By those metrics the inclusion of so many criminals and former felons could fit the bill.

However, the recap lists Mary Jane as an example of such ‘outsiders’, which muddies the waters.

I suppose from a certain point of view she might be called an outsider but in context it doesn’t seem an appropriate descriptor at all.

Mary Jane has  acting credits. She’s worked on Hollywood films before. She’s worked in TV before. She’s worked on stage before.

Alright, she’s not exactly Scarlett Johansson, but she’s not really an outsider.

More poignantly, the recap seems to be implying that MJ was included specifically because of her alleged outsider status. Putting aside how MJ isn’t really an outsider, this just doesn’t add up.

As detailed in parts 5-6, we the audience know  that MJ’s inclusion is either due to:

Mysterio knowing about her connection to Spidey or

Kindred ordered Beck to include her.

The latter is the more likely answer. But even if it wasn’t the implication here is that Mysterio always wanted Mary Jane in his movie.

This is imbecilic of him because he is aware of her connection to Spider-Man!

Beck could be viewed as an obsessive and an egomaniac, but he’s not an idiot. If anything he is dangerously cunning. If he really just wanted an outsider actress with talent he’d have endless options other than Mary Jane to pick from.

Regardless of your feelings on the matter, the reality within Hollywood is that actors are a dime a dozen.

If Beck knows who Spidey is and therefore knows about MJ’s connection to him, he must have a specific reason  for hiring her. He must have a particular need to keep her on set as he practically begged her to do in issue #1; a fact acknowledged in the recap itself. In fact in ASM v5 #25 Beck personally sought out Mary Jane’s former  agent in order to get her into the movie. He didn’t look at a pool of actors and cast someone. He was incredibly specific.

Based upon the information we’ve been given, MJ’s connection to Spidey is the only explanation for all this. So what the Hell is this nonsense about her being an outsider? If he wanted an outsider why did he personally seek out  Mary Jane?

I’m sorry, I can’t give the benefit of the doubt on this front. This is a clear cut example of incompetence. Either Williams and/or her editors weren’t paying attention to prior stories (including the first issue!) or they were and didn’t care.

Regardless it’s bad.

Moving on, we then have Cage McKnight referred to as a “superstar director”.

Wasn’t Cage supposed to be an indie director? Call me nuts but a ‘superstar director’ is surely someone like Spielberg or Ryan Coogler. An indie director is by definition not a superstar. It also further contradicts ASM v5 #29’s claims about McKnight harder to reconcile. In that issue McKnight was supposed to be a new and fairly unknown director.

But I’ll let all that pass because he could be a super star on the indie scene.

Additionally, the recap in general fails to acknowledge the presence of criminals on set. They are simply referred to as outsiders and people who were on their ‘last hope of making something meaningful’. This totally obscures the reality of the situation and paints it as a lot less dangerous or irresponsible.

We then come to the most damning line in the entire recap.

MJ agreed to keep Quentin’s secret—even from Peter/Spider-Man.

That literally never happened in issue #1.

There was never a moment MJ agreed  to keep Mysterio’s secret from Peter. Sure, we never saw her tell him the truth. But the story never highlighted the fact she was knowingly withholding information from him. She was incredibly casual about the film project and showed no signs of apprehension about lying to her partner.

It’s not even that Williams was being incredibly subtle. The first issue simply failed to ever acknowledge the fact that MJ was lying to Peter; she just did it!

More significantly the implication is that MJ is keeping this secret from Peter specifically because she’s sympathetic to Mysterio and his crew’s desire to make something meaningful. So I guess Williams is maintaining the mischaracterization from last issue huh? See prior instalments for why lying to Peter, sympathising with Beck and trusting him is OOC for Mary Jane.

Honestly, how would Matt Murdock feel about MJ letting Mysterio tell his magnum opus before he dies? The last time he was dying and decided he needed a magnum opus his girlfriend died!

Surely Karen or Gwyneth or any of the other innocent people Beck killed wanted the chance to do something meaningful with their lives too?

Why should Beck be afforded such an opportunity when he denied similar chances to people far more deserving?

Now granted this is just the recap page but the importance of a recap page is not to be underestimated.

Every comic is someone’s first, Stan Lee himself said that.

Recap pages are important as they give new readers the opportunity to jump on ship and thereby hopefully buoy up the sales as they naturally decline from issue #1 onwards.

Speaking from experience here, growing up my UK Marvel reprints had fairly detailed recap pages that provided enough context for me to pick up basically any issue and generally understand what was going on.

Having the recap contradict the actual story is misinforming and can thereby create a false impression of the work. Screwing it up is also just a bad sign for the rest of the comic. That’s particularly true when it’s providing details that weren’t actually present in the stories it is recapping.

Anyway, as we get into the story proper, we see MJ performing a scene from the movie.

I am not exactly sure if Williams is trying to make some commentary on Mary Jane here.

The dialogue her character says could be interpreted as commenting upon MJ’s growth as a character, on how she grew more capable of defending herself. Of how as she grew older she realised the real dangers in life were human beings not childish imaginings of monsters.

The main reason I suspect this might’ve been meant as commentary is that the dialogue specifically pints out how people wear masks to hide their true natures.

Masks are a recurrent theme in the Spider-Man mythos and particularly prevalent with MJ’s character.

If this was Williams intent it demonstrates a certain understanding of Spider-lore and of MJ that’s been woefully been lacking for most of the 2010s.

And one could justifiable argue the dialogue about how she grew stronger and more capable of defending herself is supported by her evolution over time. MJ never underwent a clear cut arc where she became more capable of defending herself. She was basically just shown to have bravery, common sense and resourcefulness. The frequent dangerous encounters she endured afforded her chances to put those skills into practice thus she got better at it, but she didn’t undergo active training towards that end like Batman.

Furthermore the dialogue can be argued to be talking about Mysterio as well, specifically the lines about monsters hiding behind pleasant masks. This is applicable to Mysterio’s masquerade as Cage McKnight.

However the comparison (if intentional at all) breaks down in two key areas.

The dialogue implies ‘Mary Jane’ learned that humans are the real monsters in life as she grew older. This is patently not true as MJ’s father was frequently abusive even when MJ was a baby.

This was the norm for Mary Jane’s entire childhood and she herself created a mask of her own to cope with it.

ASM #259

It was even implied MJ suspected Peter of being a ‘monster’ like her father precisely because she knew he hid the truth of himself.

So MJ would’ve been acutely aware that people can be monsters and use masks to hide this fact.

The second way the comparison breaks down regards Mysterio. If we accept that the dialogue is commentating upon Mysterio then it’s Williams acknowledging that Mysterio is  a monster in disguise. This in turn throws her characterization of MJ into question. It implies Williams is knowingly writing Mary Jane as an idiot and out of character. It also doesn’t jive with his sympathetic portrayal in issue #1; nor in fact in this issue as we’ll see.

Of course all of that is hypothetical. I fully admit I might be reading more into this than was intended. Williams could’ve just thought this dialogue seemed cool and that was all.

I should also briefly discuss the artwork. In issue #1 I critiqued it because at times it made the intent ambiguous. In fairness that might be more down to Williams or the editors as opposed to Gomez. I suspect it will become a problem that will crop up moving forward. Nevertheless, it doesn’t detract for the utterly gorgeous aesthetic of his artwork.

With all that’s said let’s get back to the story.

MJ’s scene is interrupted when ‘Cage’ realises a pair of men are removing the wind machine. Actually, they’re removing several pieces of equipment the crew were renting. Mallorie, ‘Cage’s’ right-hand woman (sorry I don’t know Hollywood lingo), snatches a small piece of equipment and makes a point of withholding it from the men. MJ begins to ask what’s going on, turning on some of the charm for one of the men (named Noah).

‘Cage’ though is far less polite, demanding Noah’s attention. He warns him that, once Hollywood hears of this situation, he’ll struggle to find future work. Noah angrily retorts that ‘Cage’ hasn’t paid his rental fees in weeks, a fact confirmed when he checks his phone.

There are a few things to unpack from these pages, most of which further confirms topics we’ve already touched on.

For starters, we could argue Beck’s rudeness and threat exemplifies the danger he poses. Not just because he is a violent man, but also because he is seeking to ruin an innocent man’s business. This is something he could theoretically use McKnight’s reputation to achieve even more effectively.

Admittedly, that’s a little nit-picky.

Beck in Cage’s role here didn’t act unreasonably. He’s a bad person but even a good person could be forgiven or at least understood in this situation.

The real Cage McKnight may well be miffed at his equipment being removed and the lack of professionalism. That wouldn’t necessarily be grounds for Noah’s business to be harmed either if he was genuinely being unprofessional. Not to mention, we could easily give Beck the benefit of the doubt and say his threat was simply a bargaining tactic to get what he wants.

However, what’s less forgivable is Beck’s carelessness.

In the grand scheme of his history, failing to check his phone or pay some bills is hardly his worse crime. But it is endemic of a larger issue. Beck has never made a real movie before, not as the director anyway. The closest he’s ever come are his crimes, which granted would demand certain similar skills. However, he pulled off those crimes with little concern for any henchmen he involved nor any legal or financial obligations. He funded his crimes through other crimes. He viewed his helpers as disposable. And as for breaking the law, that obviously wasn’t going to bother him.

In this story Beck has dozens of people who’s jobs (and possibly their careers) ride on his decisions. The narrative has even painted him as genuinely wanting to help them. And yet he has failed as an incredibly basic responsibility. He hasn’t even considered delegated that task to someone else. It’s exemplary of selfishness at worst, and poor leadership at best.

I’m not trying to argue any of this is out of character for Mysterio. Rather, it’s the implications of this within the status quo that are concerning.

On to of everything else, Mary Jane has decided to go along with Beck’s passion project without considering if he’s even qualified for the job. Creative vision isn’t enough, you need basic competency as well. You need to know how and who to delegate stuff to if it’s not your forte or not what you are interested in.

It’s also further exemplifies the potential damage Beck can bring to the real McKnight’s reputation. If word of this gets out suddenly McKnight at best might be regarded as rude, at worst a poor leader and incompetent. Incompetent with money no less, which (above anything else) is likely to paint him poorly in the eyes of the Hollywood power players.

This misuse of Cage’s reputation continues into the next page where Beck outright throws McKnight’s name around. He claims there has been a mistake because his movie was given a generous budget. Mary Jane tries to calm the situation down and sits in one of the fold out chairs. Her plan is to prevent the men from removing it off the set, a scheme Mallorie (literally) adds some weight to.

In spite of ‘Cage’s’ borderline verbal abuse, Noah expresses respect for Cage and the film project, suggesting he talk to the money people.

By rights MJ in observing this entire scene should be much more sceptical of Beck. At the very least she should wonder if she’s made the right decision in helping him. SPOILERS: She won’t.

What she does do though, is use her charm/social savvy to defuse situations and keep Mysterio under control. This is clearly part of the direction Williams wants to take the series in. In fact it’s the central conceit of this entire issue.

On this front Williams does a superb job. No seriously, I might hate this status quo. I might loathe the mischaracterization facilitating it. I might despise the contrivance that keeps it going. But it’s stuff like this where Williams once more displays a deftness with MJ’s character.

She understands  that Mary Jane possesses superb social skills that can serve as a form of ‘super power’ within certain contexts. Williams has (clumsily) generated one such context and thus allowed MJ to shine. You could genuinely cite or post this scene to exemplify some of the strengths of Mary Jane’s character. If you want a Spider-Man comparison, it’s a little like citing Otto injuring Scorpion from ASM #700 as an example of Peter’s raw power. How we got to that moment was nonsensical but unto itself it is a great example of a singular aspect of the character.

Another example occurs when MJ prompts ‘Cage’ to seek out more money for the film.

This moment demonstrates MJ’s practicality and determination. It’s just a shame that display entails her helping a criminal and suggesting they con yet more people!

The next page is a montage of just that, with Hollywood money people turning them down. ‘Cage’ reacts by angrily flipping tables. In contrast MJ calmly and politely tries to inject some positivity into the meetings.

Williams again does a great job of showing MJ’s personality. She keeps in control and is a great people person. She is practical and knows how to help Mysterio get stuff done.

But take note of ‘Cage’s’ misbehaviour in front of the money people. This opens up the possibility of him being dangerous and unstable, therefore a liability if left unchecked. Were this an exception to the rule or extenuating circumstances, that’d perhaps be understandable. But Mysterio, whilst not exactly defined by his rage, is  a violent person. He has inflicted physical and mental harm/abuse to people. And his bouts of bad behaviour are likely to negatively impact the real McKnight’s chances of working with any of these people in the future.

I’ll leave it there for now. We’ll pick up where we left off last time.

Previous Part

Next Part

Master Post

[the-avengers-ate-my-tongue]

Speachless (part 1)

Summary: after a few days out visiting your mom in other state, Alana calls you to tell you Will was arrested for the murder of Abigail Hobbs and the victims of the copycat killer. You and Will are currently involved, and you know he’d never do something like that but, with consistent evidences and all fingers pointed to him, how would you prove the man you love is innocent? 

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: swearing, a little angst

Word count: 2843 

A/N: Hannibal again! Haha, I’m still obsessed and managed to introduce a friend to the show, soon I’ll start a cult (just kidding. Or am I?). One of the things that bothered me and my friend the most at the end of season one was how everyone just turned their backs to Will so quickly. I understand, they’re FBI, there were evidences, but I don’t know, maybe it’s my favoritism for the character talking. My friend also said that she found unnerving how he’s treated like a machine, a tool, especially by Jack Crawford. That stuck in my mind for days, and I decided to write something at the end of season one to let my mind flow my frustration. Hope you guys enjoy it! Probably there will be a second part of this, I still have a few scenes in my mind and this was supposed to be a oneshot. Let’s see how it goes.

XXX

“What do you mean he was arrested?” My voice trembled while I drove as fast as I could back to Virginia. “Alana, you have to tell me what's going on. Will doesn't need to be arrested, he needs…”

“Some evidences where found in his house yesterday, Y/N.” Her voice faulted, and I could hear her sadness bursting out and reaching me like a breeze. “We really tried to contact you. The FBI found genetic material of the victims of the copycat. They... They think Will killed all those people”.

For a second, I felt my hands go numb. My eyes were wide, my mouth dry. I had no reaction. I lost my attention on the road, only to regain it by almost hitting a huge truck. 

I yelled in anticipation, turning as much as I could. The car drove off the road, skidding on sand and finally stopping a few meters ahead.

“Y/n? What's happening?” Alana's voice sounded urgent and took me out of my daze. “Y/n, are you okay?”

“This is ridiculous!” I snapped, and Alana sighed with relief. “Will did not kill them! He wasn't even sick when Cassie Boyle or Marissa Schuur was murdered.”

“The evidences were substantial. And after Abigail, after today, there's nothing we can do for him... At least not anymore” Alana admitted with moderated grief. I felt my mouth dry at the same time I could feel my own sweat soak the wheel under my hands. I could also feel my nails digging so hard the pain woke me up.

“Fucking Jack Crawford” I tried not to sound so revolted, but I couldn't help it. “Damn FBI. We warned him. We saw Will lose his sanity over and over and we didn't do shit. We saw he was breaking. Goddammit... We failed him.”

“I know you two were...” She hesitated, looking for words to put it lightly. “Involved. He escaped custody while he was being taken to Baltimore State Hospital this afternoon. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid and will call Jack or me if he tries to reach you.”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, uncertain of what to say.

“Y/n.” Alana tried again in a softer tone. “Will's not himself at the moment. He killed Abigail and maybe four more people. I... I don't want to worry about you too.”

I realized how much wrecked she sounded, and a small and unwanted smile crossed my lips.

“I'm a big girl, Lana. You don't have to worry about me, you know?” I tried to laugh it off, but it just came out as a cry.

“Jack wants to see you. You might need to give a statement.” She replied. “We tried to contact you sooner. How's your mom?”

“She’s fine, it was just a warning for her to stop eating junkie food all the time. I can't do this right now, Alana. I can't just chit chat like that and I can't see Jack being this affected. I need to clear up my head. I'll go home, have a shower and...”

My voice just faded as I rubbed my eyes. How was that happening? The last time I talked to Will, he said he was planning to take Abigail Hobbs to Minnesota. That was three days ago. How did so much happen in this short matter of time? 

“What did Hannibal say in all of this? He was supposed to warn Jack if he'd seen Will would break. Where was he in all of this?” I couldn't hide my annoyed tone. Hannibal was an old acquaintance of mine as well as Alana's, and I'm sure he'd find my tone quite insolent if he could hear me right now. 

“He was the first one Will called. He showed me a drawing he made of a clock two weeks ago. It was normal. Whatever it is, it's something that comes and goes and gives him episodes of instability.”  

“Couldn't it be some sort of encephalitis?” I asked after a few seconds of silence, trying to see the evidences. “He had a lot of fever, especially by night time. It got worse after a while. Sometimes he'd like... Vanish mentally to somewhere I couldn't reach. I'd talk to him, but he wasn't really there, you know? In his own mind.”

“I thought about encephalitis, too. He escaped custody before we could run some tests. That's also why we need to find him as soon as possible. It's a dangerous condition, he needs treatment.”

“You're absolutely right. Of course, I'll... See what I can do.” I hated the way my voice sounded so unsure, and I knew Alana would notice it.

She sighed.

“Are you sure you're okay to drive? If you text me your location, I can pick you up.”

“I'm fine. Just half an hour and I'll be home safe and sound.” I said in a melancholic tone. “I'll call Jack later and see what I can do to help.”

She probably was relieved to see some sign of cooperation, even if I didn't really mean it. I hung up and, before I could even realize, drove to Will's place even knowing he wouldn't be there. Of course he wouldn't. I just needed to be sure.

A few minutes later, I parked outside, getting out of the car with my legs like jelly. Not even the dogs were there. That broke my heart even more, as if they extinguished all of Will's essence of the place. I went back to the car with my heart heavy, heading straight home. A shower would do me some good.

By the moment I turned the key on the keyhole I felt the atmosphere changing. Like electric sparks in the air that made all possible hair in my body stand up. I could barely assimilate the hand gripping my pulse and pulling me inside, another firm hand shutting my mouth.

I tried to gasp for air so I could scream but, as I realized the smell that came inside my lungs, my whole body relaxed and I felt relieved.

Will. He was there.

He smelled like pine trees, wet dirt, aftershave and sometimes fish. And dogs, always dogs. A smell that was far from bad and reminded me of him. My eyes were filled with tears as I saw his state. He was pale, sweating and wearing an orange uniform. His breathing was accelerated, he was trembling.

I took his hand off my mouth and pulled him close, throwing myself into his arms. I hid my face in his neck, taking a deep breath. His smell, his essence was still there indeed. I closed my eyes as I felt my tears wet my face, and he hid his face in my hair, grabbing myself in a hug so tight I could feel my bones cracking. I stood away only to see his face. He had this feverish complexion that only made me more worried as I recalled of Alana's words.

“Talk to me, Will. What's happening?” I practically begged, pulling him to the sofa. “God, you're burning up, Will. You have to see a doctor.”

“Y/n, you have to hear me now. Someone is framing me.” He started while refused to sit, his eyes a little wide. “Someone is trying to make it look like I committed the crimes of the copycat. We find him, we find the copycat. It's someone who's close, who knew the case and the evidences, someone in the bureau. Someone we know.”

I felt the shivers go around my body like an electric shock, taking a few steps behind as I covered my mouth with one hand. He sounded very sure, and I couldn't help remember the confusion that stroke his mind in the past few weeks. My mind worked fast and I evaluated all the information I had so far on the cases, trying to make connections. I could see Will was agitated but he allowed me to take my time, and his confidence on me gave me more strength. Even if you could separate the fact that Will was unstable from evidences and informations I had, for me there was still a gap. Missing data. 

So I decided to trust him. Trust the man I knew he was, the man I cared deeply about. The selfless, kind man I could see under his armor. Took me a long time to break through the thick layer, and I wouldn't turn my back on him now. He was not the "catching bad guys machine", and I felt like I was the only one that could see it at the moment. There must be an explanation.

“Someone that had easy access to your house, knew your routine, knew exactly what was happening to you...” I felt my heart pumping through my chest like a hummingbird. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was someone close. Probably someone I knew, someone wearing a social mask I couldn't see beyond it. I started searching for clues in my own mind, but i suspected any single little thing would seem suspicious if I didn't get more information. I looked to Will one more time, and saw a little pity in his eyes. No one wanted to find out that someone they know, probably someone close could commit those horrible crimes.

I sighed, scanning his face. In spite of the fever, he seemed more conscious that I'd seen him in the past few days. His eyes were darker, more vivid, glowing almost sickeningly. His hair was a mess, all over his face and gluing on his forehead because of the sweat. He was sharp. I could see it.

“You know who it is, don't you?” I licked my lips, biting my bottom one nervously. He followed my tongue with his eyes, and they seemed to grow even darker. 

“I might.”

“Tell me.”

“The less you know the better. If I'm right... I... I don't wanna be right.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, probably choosing the right words. “It's serious, Y/n. You don't want me to be right, trust me.”

“I do. And I want you to trust me.” I pulled his hair out of his forehead, caressing his defined jawline.

He held my wrists abruptly, pulling my hands down. I didn't even blink, and he smiled lightly. He'd never scare me. I knew the man standing in front of me. I knew he'd never hurt me.

“You don't think I've murdered all those people.”

“Of course I don't. That was never in question.” I replied in a petulant tone. Will opened his mouth to speak, then closed it without making a sound.

“You seem to be the first.” He said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice and eyes and avoiding to look at me. That broke my heart in a way that almost made me feel sick.

My eyes filled with tears and I tried to smile, probably grimacing.

“Maybe I know you too well. Beyond you boundaries and everything else. Did you ever consider that?” I asked in a playful tone. He didn't smile or laugh, though. He just came closer, touching my lips with his in a sweet, caring kiss. They felt hot and a little bit dry, probably due the fever. I could feel all the gratitude in his kiss, the way his hands held my face with tenderness. 

He broke the kiss only to keep his forehead on mine, his eyes still closed. My hands caressed the sides of his face as I tried to stop the tears from falling.

“Will. Listen to me. I know you want to catch who's doing this to you, and I think it's only reasonable. But escaping custody will only make you look more guilty, and that's the least you need at the moment. You need treatment.” I tried to sound sensible, but I knew he didn't need to listen to that. He knew I was right, of course, that was obvious.

“You're right. And I will turn myself in. I just have one last stop.” He seemed so certain I knew I wouldn't convince him otherwise. 

“Then promise me something, Will Graham.” I held him by his orange uniform with a pleading look. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless. Promise me you won't get hurt".

He didn't reply, taking a deep breath, his face getting sweeter.

“I have no idea what I've done to deserve someone like you.” He said, kissing me again. I held him by his neck as he touched my waist, pulling me closer, his agile fingers marking my skin. The kiss started to get deeper and deeper as I could feel a certain agitation below my abdomen.

“Well...” I pulled away, trying to regain my breath. “Let's get you out of this clothes.”

He was breathing hard, taking a moment to absorb my words. His eyes were darker than ever.

“Y/n...” He started with an uncertain tone, making me laugh a little.

“Well, you can't move around the city in this orange uniform, can you?” I explained in a false innocent tone. “What did you think I meant? You left some clothes here.”

He lowered his eyes, turning slightly red. But the cynic smile was still in his lips.

I climbed the stairs and he followed me. We entered my room and I went straight to the closet, searching for a few clothes I knew he'd left there. As he changed, I took the orange uniform and hid it in a large shoebox I had, putting it behind other boxes.

“There you go. All packed” I said, trying to hide how nervous I was lowering my eyes and staring at my shoes as if they were very interesting. He noticed, of course.

“Y/n…” He started.

“Stay.” I hated the way my voice cracked, that made me feel so weak. I was a very emotional person, while Will was more rational. Nevertheless, I knew he had his moments, I’d seen it.

He sighed, coming to me and lifting my chin with his index while caressed me with his thumb. I closed my eyes, rubbing my face in his hand like a kitten and cursing myself mentally for the tears that stained my cheeks. I felt so desperate. That was serious, he was being framed for someone else’s crimes, someone dangerous that all of us knew. And I had no idea how to prove it, just my blind belief that wasn’t useful for nobody but us. I was facing it; maybe, the following days, even months, would be seeing Will mostly behind bars.

“You know I can’t.” He said in a condescended tone, his deep blue eyes studying my face. “I wasn’t even supposed to be here. It was reckless. I’m sure Jack has eyes for me everywhere, including here. I’m already running out of time. And if he knows about us, then I shouldn’t have even come here in the first place.”

“I know. I’m just being silly.” I agreed, wiping my tears away with a little smile. “And Will, honestly, I think everyone knows about us by now. We weren’t exactly good at hiding it.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Alana was the first to find out, you know?” I told him as I avoided staring at his face, feeling my cheeks burn a little. “She noticed how I looked at you. She says I look like a fool. A beautiful little fool. I asked her not to tell a soul about it, but I’m terrible on hiding my feelings, as you may know. Especially… Especially when it comes to you.”

He listened to my words in silence, his hand still caressing my chin. I noticed how wet they were, he was sweating. I tried to imagine those hands committing violent murder, carving a macabre smile on Sutcliffe’s face, putting Cassie Boyle on the top of those stag antlers. That felt… Wrong. Inadequate. Maybe it was my feelings talking, but I just couldn’t see it.

“So, probably the whole bureau knows by now.” I continued, stepping away and breaking any physical contact. It would be easier to let him go, and he knew it, he saw it in my eyes. I held my body as a form of solace, staring at the floor. “You should go, Will. You’re right. This is dangerous, my house may be under surveillance right now as we speak. Just… Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

He hesitated, opening his mouth to answer at the same moment my phone rang. I startled with the high-pitched sound, taking the goddamn thing out of my pocket and checking the name on the screen. Jack.

I turned my back on him, picking up the phone.

“Jack. Yes. I’m here.” I tried to fight back the tears, sounding convincing enough. I didn’t even had to turn to know Will was gone. His smell slowly began to fade, and in a few seconds, I felt completely alone.

Part two

[freedomartspress]

Three Poems — Tongo Eisen Martin

Kick Drum Only

All street life to a certain extent starts fair

Sometimes with a spiritual memory even

Predawn soul-clap/ your father dying even

Maybe I’ve pushed the city too far

My sensitivities to landfill districting and minstrel whistles/

White supremacist graffiti on westbound rail guards 

-all overcome and reauthored

The garbage is growing voices

Condensed Marxism 

modal gangsterism for a warrior-depressive

Underpass in my pocket

because I am a deity

or decent bid on the Panther name 

revolutionary violence that chose its own protagonists 

or muted stage of genius

A merciful Marxism        

Disquieted home life 

Or metaphor for relaxing next to a person 

Who is relaxing next to a gun

I stare at my father for a few seconds 

Then return to my upbringing

Return to the souls of Ohio Black folks

Revolution is damn near pagan at this point

You know what the clown wants? The respect of the ant. 

Wants a pen cap full of bullets

Wants to see their ancestors in broad daylight

I am not tired of these rooms; just tired of the world that give them a relativity 

My only change of clothes prosecuted

The government has finally learned how to write poems

shoot-outs that briefly align…

that make up a parable

white bodies are paid well, I posit

do white men actually even have leaders?

all white people are white men

white men will only ever be metaphors

all I do is practice, Lord

A rat pictures a river

Can almost taste the racial divide

Can almost roll a family member’s head into a city hall legislative chamber

Knows who in this good book will fly

I have decided not to talk out of anger ever again, Lord

Met my wife at the same time I met new audience members for our pain

We passed each other cigarettes and watched cops win

A city gone uniquely linear

Harlem of the West due a true universe 

 “I will always remember you in fancy clothes,” my wife said 

so here I sit… twisting in silk ideation

  My rifle made of tar

My targets made of an honest language

This San Francisco poetry is how God knows that it is me whining 

Writing among the lesser-respected wolves

Lesser-observed militarization

Dixie-less prison bookkeeping/I mean the California gray-coats are coming 

lynch mob gossip and bourgeois debt collection

I mean, it’s tempting to change professions mid-poem

in a Chicago briefing, a white sergeant saying, “blank slate for all of us after this Black organizer is dead.”

standard academics toasting two-buck wine at the tank parade

bay of nothing, Lord

  nuclear cobblestones, gunline athleticism  

and the last of the inherited asthma

children given white dolls to play with and fear

facial expressions borrowed from rich people’s shoe strings

I can hear hate

And teach hate

And call tools by people names

And name people dead to themselves

no one getting naturalized except federal agents soon 

carving the equator into throats soon

I’m sorry to make you relive all of this, Lord

pre-dawn monarchy 

friends putting up politician posters then snorting the remainder of the paste

minstrel scripts shoveled into the walls by their elders

my children sharpening quarters on the city’s edge

For these audiences

I project myself into a ghost like state

For these gangsters, I do the same

every now and then, we take a nervous look east

Sleep becomes Christ

Sleep starts growing a racial identity

do you ever spiral, Lord?

has the gang-age betrayed us?

be patient with my poems, Lord

So much pain

there is a point to crime… 

There has to be if race traitors come with it

 Lord, is that my revolver in your hand?

Better presidents than these have yawned at cages

Have called us holy slaves

Filled the school libraries with cop documentaries

Baby, I don’t have money for food

I have no present moment at all

/

I Do Not Know the Spelling of Money

I go to the railroad tracks

And follow them to the station of my enemies

A cobalt-toothed man pitches pennies at my mugshot negative

All over the united states, there are

Toddlers in the rock

I see why everyone out here got in the big cosmic basket

And why blood agreements mean a lot

And why I get shot back at

I understand the psycho-spiritual refusal to write white history or take the glass freeway

White skin tattooed on my right forearm 

Ricochet sewage near where I collapsed 

into a rat-infested manhood

My new existence as living graffiti 

In the kitchen with

a lot of gun cylinders to hack up

House of God in part

No cops in part

My body brings down the Christmas 

The new bullets pray over blankets made from old bullets

Pray over the 28th hour’s next beauty mark

Extrajudicial confederate statue restoration 

the waist band before the next protest poster 

By the way,

Time is not an illusion, your honor

I will return in a few whirlwinds

I will save your desk for last

You are witty, your honor

You’re moving money again, your honor

It is only raining one thing: non-white cops

And prison guard shadows 

Reminding me of

Spoiled milk floating on an oil spill

A neighborhood making a lot of fuss over its demise

A new lake for a Black Panther Party

Malcom X’s ballroom jacket slung over my son’s shoulders

Pharmacy doors mid-slide

         The figment of village

                     a noon noose to a new white preacher

Wiretaps in the discount kitchen tile

-All in an abstract painting of a president

Bought slavers some time, didn’t it?

The tantric screeches of military bolts and Election-Tuesday cars

A cold-blooded study in leg irons

Leg irons in tornado shelters

Leg irons inside your body

  Proof that some white people have actually fondled nooses

That sundown couples 

made their vows of love over   

opaque peach plastic

and bolt action audiences     

Man, the Medgar Evers-second is definitely my favorite law of science

Fondled news clippings and primitive Methodists 

My arm changes imperialisms 

Simple policing vs. Structural frenzies

Elementary school script vs. Even whiter white spectrums

Artless bleeding and

the challenge of watching civilians think

     “terrible rituals they have around the corner. They let their elders beg for public mercy…beg for settler polity”

“I am going to go ahead and sharpen these kids’ heads into arrows myself and see how much gravy spills out of family crests.”

Modern fans of war

    What with their t-shirt poems

    And t-shirt guilt

And me, having on the cheapest pair of shoes on the bus, 

I have no choice but to read the city walls for signs of my life

                                                                                     /

The Chicago Prairie Fire

First, I must apologize to the souls of the house

I am wearing the cheek bones of the mask only

Pill bottle, my name is yours

Name tagged on the side of a factory of wrists

Teeth of the mask now

Back of the head of the mask now 

        New phase of anti-anthropomorphism fending for real faces

Stuck with one of those cultures that believes I chose this family

I am not creative

Just the silliest of the revolutionaries

My blood drying on 

   my only jacket

just as God got playful

the police state’s psychic middlemen

Evangelizing for the creation of an un-masses 

An un-Medgar

Blood of a lamb less racialized

or awesome prison sentence

Good God

Elder-abuse hired for the low

dog eat genius

Right angle made between a point

On a Louisiana plantation

And 5-year old’s rubber ball 

3 feet high and falling

like a deportee plane 

to complete my interpretation 

(of garden variety genocide) 

I am small talk

about loving your enemies

A little more realistically

About paper tigers 

And also gold…

I need my left hand back 

I broke my neck on the piano keys

Found paradise in a fistfight

Maybe I should check into the Cuba line

Watching the universe’s last metronomes

some call Black Jacobins

Just wait…

These religions will start resigning in a decade or two

Some colorfully 

Some transactional-ly

In a cotton gothic society

Class betrayal gone glassless/ I mean ironically/ my window started fogging over too 

Wondering which Haiti will get me through this winter

Which poem houses souls

Which socialist breakthroughs

Breakthroughs like ten steps back

Then finally stillness

Stillness

Then stillness among families

a John Brown biography takes a bow

I’m up next to introduce Prosser to Monk

I remember childhood

Remember the word “Childhood” being a beginning 

Scribbling on an amazing grace 

I rented this body from some circumference of slavery

Remember being kicked out of the Midwest

Strange fruit theater

Lithium and circuses

Likeminded stomachs 

The ruling class blessing their blank checks with levy foam…

                            with opioid tea 

Sentient dollar bills yelling to each other pocket to pocket

Cello stands in the precinct for accompanying counterrevolutionaries 

My mother raised me with a simple pain

A poet loses his mind, you know, like the room has weather

Or first-girlfriend gravity

Police-knock gravity 

Mind-game gravity

Or revolution languishing behind 

The sugar in my good friend’s mind

“The difference between me and you

Is that the madness

Wants me forever”

A pair of apartments

Defining both my family

And political composure

Books behind my back

Bail money paved into the streets

Playing:

Euphoria

Euphoria

Cliché

Bracing for the medicine’s recoil

Sharing a dirty deli sandwich with my friends

Black Jacobins

Underground topography

Or grandmother’s hands

Psychology of the mask now

Teeth of the mask again

—

Originally from San Francisco, Tongo Eisen-Martin is a movement worker and educator who has organized against mass incarceration and extra-judicial killing of Black people throughout the United States. His latest curriculum on extrajudicial killing of Black people, We Charge Genocide Again, has been used as an educational and organizing tool throughout the country. His book of poems, Someone’s Dead Already was nominated for a California Book Award.

[the-cabalist]

This evening, a man came to my humble hut. 

This is much stranger than it sounds. Given my reputation and my services, it is not normal for an average citizen of Ionia to seek me out, especially at night.

Regardless, he came to me seeking services. I didn’t recognize him as an agent of the Cabal, and he certainly didn’t look like a Noxian agent to me. I decided to believe his outfit, and took him at face value as just some run-of-the-mill citizen.

He looked skittish walking through my door. Unlocked, of course. No sense in locking the door when you don’t get any proper company anyway, so may as well leave it open for the wind. I welcomed him inside despite his skittish nature and offered him a drink, but he ignored my idle advances like most men do.

He was entirely business, which didn’t surprise me either. He wanted me to work on his wife, that is to say he wanted her out of the picture to claim her possessions. 

“So this is out of raw greed? Not some emotional discourse or her being a wretch..?” I had asked him, wanting to evoke whatever other information I could from him, as he appeared to not understand the nature of my service.

“Oh, well when you put it that way it sounds wrong, Demon!” the man quipped, wobbling like butter once I said something of substance. “No, I wouldn’t call it greed! I’d call it...” he stopped, likely thinking of a synonym for the word ‘greed’. “... I just want a fresh start! This slow life isn’t for me at all, Virtuoso! Oh, and i’m entirely sure that she’ll chase me half way to the Placidium if she isn’t taken care of!”

I got up from my chair, frankly insulted that this man saw me as some sort of clown that one hires to do a gag or two. He appeared to confuse my work, something methodical and filled with purpose, for something akin to assassination; a practice as simple as ramming a knife in the neck of some unassuming socialite as they sipped their umpteenth drink of the night. 

“So, you want me to remove this wife of yours just because you don’t want her following you around the land like some dejected puppy?”

“Could you quit talking like that, you madman!? Stop trying to inject emotion into everything! This is just something I need done! You’ve got a damn fine reputation as a death-dealer so you ought to know what business is!”

He was correct. I certainly did know what business was, and still do. This simply wasn’t my business, though. His confusion as to what I actually do for men in my line of work appeared evident, and I thought I would remedy him of it. One might say, ‘do him a kindness’. Firstly, I asked of pay.

“What are you paying for this work, sir?”

He didn’t answer with a number in regards to the gold, simply tossing an overweight brown bag of the stuff onto my desk, spilling it over the pages of the journal and into my lap. It served as another sign that this poor man had no idea who he was dealing with. Did he expect me to accept overpay for work? I rarely even care about what i’m paid, it is about the job itself. I took it as an obvious sign of disrespect, as he likened me to some under-the-table assassin from Noxus or Bilgewater, merely looking for coin in exchange for services. I would do it for free if it conveyed the proper message, frankly.

I reached onto the table and heaved the sack up in my hand, feeling it like the curvature on the side of a malnourished courtesan. It was bumpy and uneven, which felt awkward to the touch. I waltzed over to the nearby window which overlooked the craggy rocks beneath and slid it open, glancing outside as I let the evening air into the room. The tension in our dispute eased a little, and I welcomed the chill.

Before the man could cut in about asking as to whether the still undetermined amount of gold was enough, I sent the plump pouch sailing out the window and onto the rocks. It slapped against the various crags until I could no longer hear the annoying sound of jingling coins.

“That was MY MONEY, Jhin! We didn’t even agree to a deal, or a job, or anything yet!” The man shouted, his voice echoing out the window that I had just opened. “I hope you don’t expect me to go crawling down there to pick up all those pieces! Damn it, why did you do that?!” He finished, huffing as if he were a bull ready to charge me straight through the window.

I responded honestly, and in a much calmer tone than the one he took with me. “I did it because you just insulted me, my friend. You seem to equate me to lesser assassins, and I don’t appreciate you walking into my home to both insult me and then shout nonsense at me. Though, the offer was amusing and tempting...” I added, cluing him into my intentions despite my actions.

“Oh, so you’re up for it then, right? You’re going to go sack her?” He asked finally, a glint of emotional and instinctual hope hanging in his eyes. He knew full well that I was now his only option, having lost his pay. I had assumed such, as no sane man would do any risky work without a bit of coin, right?

I gave him a chuckle and drew Whisper off my desk, giving her leathery grip a squeeze. It gave me a bit of courage, and a slight inspiration to pull the trigger.

“Oh, no! No! Not at all! I am not some lowbrow showman, you hog! What about this do you not understand!? Your deal amuses, it doesn’t entice!” I barked, losing my temper for a moment and letting my first shot fly into his stomach. Not an accident, I will admit, but this individual clearly had it coming.

He wailed out, as expected. His hands tightened up and he slumped over onto my table, digging his gloved nails into the poor leg of the furniture. He struggled to stay half-upright. Upon snapping back to reality, he clutched a hand over the new wound in his stomach, only having one free one to support his weight against the table.

I fired off my second, and then my third shot. Not into my patron, though, but straight out the window. He was undeserving of the pain they would cause, and in my murkiness I did not think of two fresh places to bless him with the bullets. Off they went, and off I went around the corner of the table to grab him by the back of his collar.

“Fuckin’... madman...” He sputtered at me, getting a bit of spittle on the polished oak. “Shooting your clients... worse than I thought...” He added, seemingly digging his grave deeper and deeper.

I sunk my fingers just deep enough into his exposed neck to elicit some pain. He quivered and shook, his nerve clearly wearing down at the sense of pain, both fast and slow mixing together within him. I didn’t blame him, of course. When under so much pain and confusion, one could only ever wish for it to stop. Nothing in our realm could be more brutal and convincing than pain, and when faced against a mountain of it there was no room for the brave or the foolhardy.

Before he could throw another round of insults at me, I slammed his forehead into the table. I cracked it, a thing I now regret. The furniture was perfectly fine before I had to muddy it with this man’s skull. Nonetheless, I slammed him into it again, and brought him right up to the motionless lips of my guise so I could tell him something very important.

“You come to me seeking an escape from your lover? Do I look like I deal in petty squabbles of greed? No, I do not think I do. Perhaps i’ll pay your dear wife a visit myself. Now that I see you blathering like some dying animal I have the inspiration to see her.” I had smirked beneath my lips, and from the look the man gave me, I could only assume he could see right through my false face.

Regardless, I continued to teach him what he had to learn.

“There are those in this world that take flesh by the pound, and those that run around mindlessly killing innocents, splattering walls with their filth and their clumsy acts of evil. Ah, that’s the word. Evil. What you just requested of me is so entirely evil that it disgusts me, sir. I do not do the work of evil men, I do the work of necessity. Your request is not necessary. It is evil.” I concluded to him, nestling Whisper up against the side of his head. I let the smoke plume out from the spent shots, the hum of the mist filling his ear and heating his skin as if I had pressed a hot coal against it.

I considered his position. He would likely beg for his life if he had the stones to speak to me again, but he stayed silent.

“Perhaps this is my good deed for the day. I know most men like to keep to that principle, yes? A good deed a day, and it keeps something away. I do this out of charity, though. I have taught you the difference between necessity and evil. Teaching you this lesson is so wholly necessary that I think you’ll be better off in the end.” I informed him kindly, smiling genuinely beneath my mask. My momentary anger had faded away in the rush of my short instruction.

“Worry not, I will let your wife know you sent me, sir. I think I will take pride in teaching her something of value as well.” I assured him, just as I put my final bullet into the side of his head, sending a wave of red out my window.

‘Now it really was blood money.’ I had thought to myself, priding myself on some gallows humor as I heaved the man from his position, and levied him out my door. I dragged him around the perimeter of my home and cast him off down the crags. He sailed down just as swiftly as his money and his blood.

I would have prepared a proper scene for him, but I have little time on my hands. I have a date to prepare for, his wife is waiting! Well, I suppose she is a wife no more. Happily so too, I’d think. Who would want to be married to such a drab and senseless man like that?

I’m sure I will get her to see the light once I come upon her. He kept a photo of her on his person, so at least I have a lead. I merely need to gather my things and head off. I suppose I will have to clean up the mess when I return.

Pigs will be pigs, won’t they?

- Jhin

[lotornomiko]

Triumph’s Tribulations Chapter Four (Mostly work safe?)

It’s work safe, except Lezard still has a vibe there that might be troublesome or triggering to some. Still no sign of anything sexual outright happening to ANY of the characters. :p

It was insanity at it’s worst, that flimsy grasp for reassurance not able to bury the thinly veiled menace of his words. The intention that was both a threat and a promise, that warped feeling not so much love OR lust, but instead this overpowering desire to dominate. That twisted need inside him, it was to Creation’s misfortune that there was only one heart that this man sought to possess. That it beat with unease within her was an unfortunate fact, Lenneth feeling those flickers of fear turn to outright panic, the woman unable to stop, heedless of the way those thick vines bit into her very skin, the Goddess desperate to free herself.

“No….No….” It was a cadence meant to be soothing, the expressed concern something that could not reach through to her. Lenneth fought against her restraints, that blind panic resulting in bruises, more of her cracked armor fracturing apart, to reveal the plain white dress worn beneath it. She was being stripped of all her defenses in the moment, her sword already lost gone, her strength in it’s last faded reserves and the gear that had shielded her, bit by bit eroded away by this world. By its efforts to deliver her to him.

Trussed up all tight and secure, the Goddess could only bite back a whimper, this world’s attempts neither subtle nor kind. This mindless entity that was Lezard’s attempt at Creation, was a beast that could not be reasoned with, no matter what Lenneth tried. She couldn’t understand it, not this world, and not her own lack of ability, this tired deity unable to reach within for a power that should have been there. A Creator in her own right, combating this place and its maker shouldn’t have been that difficult, and certainly not to this extreme!

Bruised and battered by this world, by its attempts to subdue her, the tired Goddess had been challenged in a way she hadn’t thought possible. Had it been HER arrogance that had led to such overconfidence? Had she let it blind her to the point she had not only misjudged the situation but Lezard, of just what he was capable of, the man not only grasping hold of the power of God, but fast understanding just how to use and manipulate it against her?

It was insane all the same, Lenneth understanding that even with Odin’s stolen power inside him, Lezard at best should have been her equal, and not her better.

“How...” Her pride made her bite her tongue, Lenneth unable to admit to the weakness, nor to acknowledge out loud to him the confusion it caused her. Why couldn’t she make this place heel, why did even these vines, thick though they were, refuse to give way, this world and it’s oddities, refusing to acknowledge the power inherited inside her?

She hadn’t a clue, her frustrations added to the panic experienced. That wild fear, and her lack of true knowledge, made Lenneth feel more and more like the sixth level Goddess she had once been, and not the Ruler of Creation that she had in fact become.

Vision full of the man, the usurper before her, Lenneth tried to mask the shaking that her body was doing, with those continued efforts to break free.

“You are HURTING yourself with that effort.” He was frowning at her, the chiding tsk of his voice much like an exasperated parent to a child. “Lenneth...”

“The only one hurting me is YOU!” She shot back, and the trembles vibrated through her, making the vines rattle in response. “Damn you, stop this!”

“This world is only reinstating a simple but undeniable fact.” He was drifting within reach of her, an already wary Goddess on high alert for another of the God’s attempt to steal from her. What form would it take this time? A touch of her hair, her cheek? Or would his daring make him bolder, a kiss or worse forced on her?

“You are MINE.” There was a finality to that statement, a knowing grimness that birth forth new dread within the pit of her stomach. “Now and forever.” added Lezard, reaching an eager hand towards her. The vines tightened even further, trying to hold Lenneth absolutely still for their master, and it was either give in or be hurt, and already she was finding it difficult to breathe.

“Never.” She managed to gasp it out, even with the vines squeezing her in place. “I’ll never be yours!”

“You’ve not fallen enough if you can still cling to that belief.” Lezard was calm as he answered, those fingers of his caressing over the vines rather than touch on Lenneth directly. That thick green foliage practically rippled in response, the world itself pleased by its’ Lord’s attention. It made Lenneth shake with revulsion, those ripples that weren’t outright unpleasant, the vines heeding some unspoken command to loosen its strangle hold upon her.

“It does beg the question though...” Continued Lezard in that calm tone. “What will be that final push, that breaking point, that gets you to accept the inevitable...”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” spat Lenneth. “So long as that inevitable’s outcome is an eternity spent with YOU.”

“You say that now...” cautioned Lezard. “When your strength has not yet been completely exhausted. You’ll sing a different tune when it and all your hope, your delusions of escape have been abandoned.”

“YOU are the delusional one!” Lenneth shook her head no, the vines quivering as though in warning. “Always and forever, you are MAD, that sickness inside you trying to warp everything around you.” She felt the fierceness of her words, of her belief, translate into the expression of her face, Lenneth’s eyes flashing with a glare, her lips twisted with that snarl. “Love itself is not a sin, but what you do in the name of it IS! You blasphemy against that emotion as much as you do against God!”

“Then let my soul be blackened with the sin of loving you.” His hand lifted up from the vine, the leather texture of his glove suddenly on her cheek. She tried to throw it off, but the vine’s reaction was immediate, tightening to the point she could no longer move. It couldn’t stop her from glaring, anymore than she could keep him from emitting that crazed sounding laughter.

“Lenneth, ah Lenneth...” Again that chiding tone, amusement glinting in those dark eyes of his. “What exactly is the objection? The thought of being dominated so thoroughly by the one who has always been the most devoted to you? Or is it the fact that I was once the man, the being, you thought so beneath you?” He leaned into her, breathed in deeply of that scent and fear, while wearing that odd smile on his face. “You thought me lower than a snake...not worth the time nor the effort to put down. A mistake yes, but not the worst you’ve ever made.”

“What do you mean by THAT?”

A casual shrug of his shoulders, the laughter in his eyes giving way to a barely suppressed anger. “I’m not the first human to sin in the name of loving you.”

She almost said the name then, almost cried out in protest, thoughts of Lucian filling her head. Of the earnest blue of his eyes, the lopsided grin, a love inside him that had never died, that had followed him to the grave and beyond. Such a love that had wrought its own heartache and devastation, a world destroyed, and still she had forgiven him.

“He acted without true knowledge.”

“His ignorance is no excuse. He let himself be used, manipulated, for his own selfish desires.” Lezard drew an exaggerated breath.”Ah but you mean to tell me that it is somehow different? When both outcomes are the same? In that we are no different...”

“You are nothing like him!” protested Lenneth.

“I’m BETTER.” Lezard countered with a smirk. “In every sense of it, and do you know why? Hmm, Lenneth? Can you possibly guess? It is because, when I act out of love, it is for the woman before me, and not the memory of a love, a life lost.”

“He didn’t see you for you...Lenneth, he didn’t love you, but instead loved the person he thought he could make you be! That child, that one life in a string of hosts that housed you for a good millennia.” His lip curled then. “Did it make you happy to be called by her name? To be the ghost given flesh for his desires?”  

Her hesitation in answering was telling to them both, Lezard the voice that spoke of the uncertainties that had only whispered faintly inside her. It had never sat well with her, the name and Lucian’s insistence, and yet Lenneth had tried to look past that stubborn cleaving that they had both done to the child. A girl name Platina, who had lived and died a tragic life, whose chance for more had been stolen the moment Odin had had need of the Goddess who had slumbered within her.

They weren’t the same. Lenneth knew that, she and Platina both their own separate entities. But the feelings were there, the memories of that 14 year short life, and all of the other hosts before it, every last one that Lenneth had slumbered through helping to shape the Goddess’ humanity. Her kindness and caring, her sympathy and her empathy, those very feelings that the Gods had tried to seal away, Odin himself having deemed it too dangerous for any of the three who governed over fate to retain. He hadn’t been able to outright destroy those memories, but the God had been able to make them forget. Both Lenneth and Hrist, and Odin would have done the same to Silmeria had the youngest of the Valkyries remained in his control.

Those slivers of human empathy had been seen as a curse, a poison infesting those Odin would have remained his loyal dogs. Judge, jury, and executioner, Odin had twisted the express purpose of the three Goddesses whose right it was to govern over fate in order to seize a ruthless, total control over Creation. The God Odin had abused all, every last law and sanction, manipulating souls, pitting entire realms against one another, all for his own warped amusement.

He had been a tyrant left unchecked, a pitiless God who had cared only for more and more power, and the means to wield it. Lezard wasn’t much better, his concern not for the world and its people, but for what his own selfish heart desired. It made Lenneth all the more desperate, not for herself, but for Creation, for the many who existed within it’s nine realms. Both the present and the future, Lezard’s actions of the past in danger of destroying it all, lives lost to the chaos of a God who cared even less than Odin had.

There wasn’t time enough to argue with him in full, nor did Lenneth have any true desire to, her desperation and despair making her ignore his taunts. His insipid mockery, his blunt insinuations that what she had had with Lucian wasn’t in any way real. The Goddess had turned inward, trying to gather the power that drifted just out of her reach, as she again gave an impressive heave of her arms and that of her legs.

Her restraints immediately went to tighten, those vines an extension of this worlds’ whims, and though Lenneth could reason with neither, she could however make her point. In a fit that was more than just desperate, it was determined, Lenneth feeling the protesting whine of the world as the green shackling her to the column gave way.

As she bodily tore free of it, Lenneth’s fist found its way to Lezard’s jaw. Its’ violent impact had his face turning, a breath blowing out of him, the man made momentarily staggered by the attack. She wanted to follow it up with more violence, but there was a stronger instinct screaming inside her, that need pushing her legs to run from and not to her tormentor.

With every step away from him that she took, the ground itself rumbled, the marble of this place’s floor turning jagged and ripping apart. It was his world at work again, and it was a Creation that was made angry by Lenneth’s insolence.

Every step was made to be a struggle, things grabbing at her, the marble beneath her running feet crumbling apart. Lezard himself had taken to the air, laughing wildly as he floated about, yet another verbal jab offered her in the most silken of tones.

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it, Lenneth…?!” A downright euphoric sound from him, the man purring. “Just keep on trying to delude yourself about Lucian and his true feelings for you for as long as you can. It won’t make the pain any less, none of YOUR lies will!”

Those words pierced their way inside her to find and strike at her heart, Lenneth’s foot then slipping, casting her down into the cavernous hole that the world had torn open before her. It was darker than anything she had ever before born witness to, Lenneth free falling through an inky blackness that had filtered away all light and warmth and even that of sound. Not even Lezard’s mad laughter could reach her here, though the memory of his words, that taunting insinuation stayed with her.

==

The Heavens continued its’ upheaval, violated by the ever worsening tremors and the darkening blight upon its skies. They had been without sun for days, a cold frost in the air that had helped to freeze and destroy all of the floral and fauna that had lent Asgard its’ unparalleled beauty. It was still a sight to behold, but not for any of the famed shining magnificence it had once retained, this realm dying a slow, torturous death. Not even the Gods as they were had the power to stop it, Yggsdrasil in too steady a decline, carrying with it the nine realms utter destruction upon it’s withering limbs and roots.

She could only stare out in helpless fury, watching as the decay continued it’s spread. Would Asgard be the first of the nine realms to fall? Would anything, anyone, stand a chance of surviving then? Freya had no answers, just more and more questions and that desperate feeling.

She didn’t like that panic inside her. That unwanted feeling had no right to the familiarity with which it assaulted her with, that terror alight in her blood, and it still didn’t outdo the overwhelming despair that had plagued her since Odin had first been taken. The Goddess, the first lady of the Heavens, refused to so much as think the thought that would consider her Lord and her lover dead. Her heart wouldn’t survive otherwise, Freya hanging on to that slim hope that the rightful ruling God of Creation could still be recovered. Downright stubborn with that unsubstantiated claim, Freya prayed for Yggdrasil as much as she did for Odin.

She couldn’t stave off it’s ruin indefinitely. Not even as the Goddess supreme of all things fertile, Freya trying to use the power inherent within her to keep some part of the great world tree alive and blooming. It resulted in a few pathetic looking shrubs with a warped limbs and sparse sprouts, but the blonde haired Goddess chose to believe that any sign of life no matter how shriveled, was still one of hope.

“Any news?” At least her voice maintained the illusion of her once indomitable strength. The ripple of divine energy behind her had signaled the God’s arrival.

“Nothing promising.” Came the deep rumble of disgust. It sounded like the storm itself, that voice holding thunder to it. Freya knew if she was to turn to glance the God’s way, she’d see the equally powerful sight of a lightning ablaze in the storm God’s eyes.

“The einherjar continue their search.” He continued. “More than half have been lost, some killed in duty’s line, but even more infected by the madness running rampant through the world.”

“So not even our einherjar are entirely protected from that sickness.” Freya murmured, then shook her head no.

“If they had a more direct hand guiding them...If a Valkyrie…”

“Thor, NO!” Freya blazed with her anger. “That option is no longer for us.”

“Why?” challenged the bearded storm God, Thor. “Because Silmeria and Hrist both betrayed us? There is no guarantee that Lenneth will do the same.”

“I’ll not give her that chance.” A stubborn Freya retorted. “Not with these odds...not when already two of the three Goddesses who are meant to govern over fate chose to align themselves with those inferior races.” She was the golden Goddess, meant to be the ultimate in sculpted beauty, but that scowl on her face lessened Freya’s appeal.

“But Lenneth….”

“You think the most sympathetic of the three will chose any different?” interrupted Freya with a mean scoff. “When the coldest of the three, when Hrist herself sided with our enemies?”

“Then what do you propose we do!?” demanded Thor, one hand on his hip, while the other waved about with his fervent agitation. “Freya, we are LOSING here. Not just our home, but soon our very lives. This world won’t survive without an action taken.”

“One Valkyrie will not change the fate of an entire world. Only the Lord Creator can.”

“Then awaken Lenneth to FIND him!” Thor roared with his frustration. “This world...WE need Lord Odin. We need him, or we need that of the one who inherited his power.”

“Don’t!” The snarl was so unlike her, Freya anything but the calm and gentle lady of the realm. “Don’t you even dare imply that Lord Odin is anything but…”

He was surprisingly subdued in the face of her anger. “We’ve no word for too long.” Thor took a step closer to the Goddess and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder in show of solidarity. “Freya, I want our King back as much as you. We ALL do. But the signs all point more and more that that is not to be. We can’t wallow in grief, we can’t let sadness and despair consume us...So long as we still live, we stand a chance, small though it may be, of saving the world that HE created.”

She was tempted to shrug free of that hand, Freya hardly taking any comfort from what Thor was saying. Her heart already so broken was having it’s pieces shattered ever more at the thought that perhaps all that was left of Odin, was the Creation that he had ruled over.

“I...” A shaky breath escaped her, a moment of genuine weakness expressed. “I’m not ready to let him go...”

“Not many are.” Came the rumble of agreement. “But neither are they ready to follow our Lord and his world into destruction. Freya please...reconsider...Lenneth...”

She needed a time that they did not have, this world and it’s many realms ever closer to ruin. Even a single hour might prove costly, Freya not able to take the luxury of even a true minute to consider closely what must be done.

“Have the einherjar continue their search for the two remaining divine treasures...” She hesitated a beat.   “Summon Frei...we’ll need my sister’s power if we are going to awaken Lenneth.”

“Yes, my lady.” Thor gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, but already the divine energy that was his power rippled over her, the God of Thunder shifting between here and there with his ether. Freya was left to stand alone at the base of the withering World Tree, her own doubts and insecurities making the Goddess second guess things still where the Valkyrie Lenneth was concerned.

==

The dawn of the new day had ushered in an overcast kind of atmosphere, that of the bleakness of a Creation whose days were still numbered matched well by the darkened gray skies, and the sudden chill born in the air. It was too cold for it to be natural, not in this region of Midgard, these nameless woods a forest that bordered the edge of a total of three different nations. As much as things had changed over time, some things had still remained the same, Gerabellum, Villnore and Artolia retaining their names if not all of their sovereign superiority.

They and their long storied history was just one of the many, so much there that he didn’t yet know, and a great deal more that must be learned in so short a time. The Lord of the Undead chafed at the constraints place upon him, every minute—nay every second, a precious commodity he could not afford to waste. None of them could, every being from the mortal humans, to the ageless undead, and even to that of the seemingly eternal, the Gods themselves, all faced this crisis. This world that was ending, Creation dying a slow, struggling death, and not even the fabled Ragnarok had been lauded as being as final as what was happening NOW.

This world and its people all doomed, there would be no rebirth found in this ruin. Not without the proper power in place, and as much as it chafed Brahms to admit to it, Odin had served a purpose. Tyrant though he may have been, cruel and cold, and ever so self serving, that God had kept the world from falling into this complete a chaos.

Though Odin was no more, the power that he had wielded was still out there. That an unworthy hand had laid claim to it, didn’t much bother the vampire king. That foolish mortal who had named himself God, could be supplanted, the control of Creation pried free of his uncaring hands. They just needed the tools to seize it, along with the right means to host it.

He cast a surreptitious glance at one of his companions, the archer who did his best to underplay the most unusual of his features. He kept his ears hidden, but there was no mistaking what he was, that green colored hair a blatant giveaway to the elven blood within him. What was less obvious, was the side of him that was human, Rufus this rare mix of breed, that was so decidedly special. His gender made him doubly so, the only male of his kind to have been born to the elves in centuries. In a race that was predominantly female, and ones that shunned contact of any kind with those not of their village, Rufus birth was in of itself a planned anomaly.

Created with the sole intention of being Odin’s spare, Rufus had had a great many freedoms stripped of him. His life hadn’t been his, his body meant as a back up for a day that might never have come. His soul had existed as only the battery in which to fuel and keep the body alive, the half elf’s mind, his very sense of being, had been seen as just a this disposable nuisance, treated no better than that of an animal.

    That very existence that the elf had so many reasons to hate, would have served well as a host to Brahms’ plan. If he hadn’t already died, Rufus now a soul manifested through the remnants of Silmeria’s faded power. There was no changing what been done, the lone vessel suited to inheriting Odin’s power lost to them all. It might have been enough of a deterrent to lose all hope for the world, but Brahms had seized upon an idea, the chance borne on the wings of a Goddess, Lenneth, who had inadvertently paved the way for a revelation or two. One part of the three who governed over fate, it made a kind of wicked sense that the Valkyries might hold the possibility of containing the power of Creation within them.

The notion now alive in his head, it didn’t much matter that Brahms did not understand the hows and the whys of such a possibility. The vampire was confident he would soon figure it out, together with the help of the Valkyrie he intended to seat upon Creation’s throne. The Lord of the Undead couldn’t imagine a more fitting Goddess to rule, Silmeria this kind and compassionate a being, and one who had always been ever so eager towards righting Odin’s many wrongs.

Of course to do that, she had to be found, Silmeria and her sister, Hrist, caught up in a sovereign’s rite that had been so carelessly cast. Lezard hadn’t much cared about the outcome, anymore than he had for any other part of this world, content to lead the realms into an upheaval with or without the Valkyries. But the three couldn’t be destroyed that easily, the very essence of the Goddesses sent out out into the nameless ether that was this Creation’s heart and its’ soul. Although as to what shape and situation they both were in, even Brahms could not say, no true guess hazard. He could barely divine their location, the faint energy that seemed to be flitting around two distinct locations.

One roughly north of the forest that he now currently tread through, it was still a matter of time and distance before Brahms and his companions could close in one the first of the two missing Valkyries. He burned with impatience all the same, so much needing to be done, and so much wanting to be said,  the woman, the Goddess one Brahms has owed so much to. There was a loyalty pledged to one another,  a life sheltered within a soul’s embrace,  Silmeria having SAVED Brahms and he her. There was a thanks to be given, and deeper feelings to explore, none of it yet having had the true chance the vampire King awakening just at the Valkyrie had been abducted for the FIRST time.

The rage that taking had inspired had paled in comparison to the startling desperation that had also birthed inside him. Made vulnerable by it in more ways than one, Brahms had soon fallen prey to to the very power that he had tried to protect Silmeria from. Caught up in that enchantment, the vampire, the rightful Lord of all the Undead, had been reduced to nothing more than a power source exploited by the Aesir, by Odin’s own ruthless hand.

Awake and aware and left to do nothing more than bear silent witness to Odin’s foul misdeeds, Brahms had come too close to spending out eternity locked inside that crystal. If not for Alicia, if not for her bold trespass into the heavens, Brahms might have still been trapped at this very second and wouldn’t that have been ironic, that he, one who had spent a millennia fighting against the Gods, against their uncaring ways and downright selfish antics, would have then been that which saved those cruel beings from this world’s ruin.

That he was powerful was fact, Brahms bearing a strength that had been steadily built upon through out the course of Creation’s history. Such was the magnificence of the Lord of the Undead that the vampire King was deemed to be on par with any one of the four divine treasures. It wasn’t a strength strong enough to save the entire world, but then the Gods would have gladly sacrificed the other eight realms of people, so as to save their own blasted hides. That was the difference between them, Brahms a monster, but one that would see law and order and above all fair justice mete out. The people deserved no less, Creation a place meant for all.

Silmeria had shared in his ideals, the Valkyrie the one Goddess who had actively took note of the wrongness of Odin’s rule. Of the wars incited in his name, the souls killed and culled for his amusement, whole realms manipulated, just about everything and everyone a chess piece on a board which had followed only Odin’s own whims, the God had been downright fanatical in HIS quest to rule forever. He had been a tyrant, but more than that, Odin had been a coward, the fabled Ragnarok the end he had sought to avoid at all costs.

To keep his own life extended, Odin had violated the many laws of nature, had broke with the forbidden taboos, and yet still he had died. Murdered for the very power within him, the God had met a pitiable end at the hands of a human no less. That mage had both done the world a great favor and damned it all to destruction, this Lezard just one more villain in need of being put down. Then and only then, might the world not only be saved, but seen to prosper under a truly benevolent hand’s rule.

Silmeria was that hand, Brahms was sure of it. The one being deemed worthy, it was this reason that destiny had thrown them all in together, Alicia, Rufus, and even Hrist, all having a part to play. The path before them just waiting for the one to forge it, the pieces all coming together under the vampire’s guidance.

Determined to see Silmeria made the new Lord God of all Creation, Brahms would be her sword and her shield, his very life offered up in servitude to her. It was the least he could do, a great many favors owed, Brahms owing a gratitude to her that might never be able to be repaid in full. He’d spend eternity trying, and if that gave him the excuse needed to linger in her presence even a bit longer, than so be it.

==

To Be Continued…

This chapter is so short compared to the others. @_@ Ah well, at least we finally got the first Brahms narrative, and we checked in on the Gods in Asgard a bit!

I can’t remember if I mentioned pacing worries yet in any of my author’s notes...Basically the Lezard Lenneth side is supposed to be more slow going than that of the rest of the cast. But I an endlessly worrying that the rest of the characters will reach a certain spot long before the LezaLenne side is ready...ERG.

I was looking at a map of the game’s Midgard, so I hope I gave them enough of a believable distance to traverse to find the first of the Valkyrie sisters…:o

I feel like I had more to say but it has already slipped my mind….I want to try and write a little every day, so that I can update my various stories more often. Get back into the discipline I had for writing, before pain derailed me so badly. Fingers crossed for luck in that regard!

Okay, like four hours later, and I am glad I didn’t post before proofreading. I ended up going over the Brahms POV (Which had a lot of typos and random missing words) and realized I must have been either really tired and or rushed to finish before leaving for my appointment. I’ve since not only proof read, but fleshed out the Brahms segment, so it ended up being a lot longer.  The word count went up by around a thousand more words!

Michelle

[missblanchette]

Rumor Has It [5/10]

Series: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Izanami Hifumi/Yumeno Gentaro

Rating: T

Summary: Thousands of hearts broke that day. With tears shed and cries resounding to the heavens, each grief-stricken woman wondered how this could possibly happen. In the year 20XX of the H. Era, Matenrou’s MC GIGOLO and Fling Posse’s MC Phantom were officially in a relationship.

Except they weren’t, actually.

Notes: As of posting this, the name of Gentaro’s friend has yet to be revealed so I’ve chosen the name “Atsushi” for him. Please see the end notes on AO3 for further explanation + some other minor notes!

Words: 5,145

ko-fi // Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | You can read this on AO3! Thank you muchly for reading~! Hope you guys enjoy~! ( ﾟ▽ﾟ)/

Ch. 5: Spring Fling

"What do you think of this?"

Gentaro's voice bounced off the white walls, the levity within it yet another one of his lies. His reply, as usual, was the beeping of the heart monitor. By know he should've known not to hope for anything more, but he bit back the well-acquainted feeling of disappointment and read aloud:

"Though neither the moon nor the stars could be seen, the neon lights shone on his figure. Even before I could see him, there was not a doubt in my heart it was you. Amidst the lights blurring in my vision was a roguish smile with a youthful hint..."

Hardly half way through the passage, he trailed off and pursed his lips. The heart monitor beeps questioned his pause.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Gentaro muttered, making a note to rewrite this part for the umpteenth time. Setting his pen down, he rested his chin upon his palm as he gazed at Atsushi -- his unconscious figure a sight he'd long grown accustomed to, but a sight he refused to accept.

With his manuscript and a box of Atsushi's favorite strawberries, Gentaro had came to Shibuya Central Hospital bright and early in order to make up for the day he had missed -- had been turned away, rather, due to some complications in Atsushi's health. Or so the nurses had said, but he'd learned long ago that questioning them was useless. Barred from the one confidant he trusted the most, he'd contacted Yamada Ichiro again and visited the source of his guilt in hopes of clearing his mind. Irony of ironies, it seemed that the day spent with Izanami Hifumi only muddled it further. It didn't help that pictures of him leaving Hifumi’s apartment had surfaced on the internet, God knew how.

An amused lilt filled the heart monitor beeps, as Gentaro heard it; confidant Atsushi might've been, but his best friend he was first and foremost. Even if that included being a tease.

Gentaro rolled his eyes as if hearing a verbal reply. "It's merely a case of writer's block, unfortunate as it is."

The beeps chuckled at him but he chose not to respond to it. Instead, he took a strawberry and leaned in closer to Atsushi. Though the box was much too big for him to finish himself, he always ate for the both of them.

"Must you have such expensive taste?" Gentaro asked Atsushi with a feigned annoyance, rolling the strawberry in between his fingers. One day spent with him wasn't enough to spoil years’ worth of memories, but the odds of Hifumi having the same preferences as Atsushi must had been abysmally low. It was like the gods were playing some sort of joke on him, a kind of cosmic karma for being a serial liar.

The heart monitor replied with another laugh; a cheeky smile, he imagined, on Atsushi's face. He huffed and ate his strawberry, not sure as to whether or not he should blame himself for the direction this conversation was heading. Deciding not to dwell on it any longer than needed, Gentaro returned to his manuscript though he knew progress was futile. He twirled his pen, staring at words already written and blank pages begging to be written in. To his side, the heart monitor sang encouragements -- a pretty thought it was, as per Gentaro's wishful thinking.

As stifling as the hospital room was, the unconscious figure lying within it served as his inspiration. The process went much easier when Atsushi could talk with his own voice, though, and not with the cold beeps that replaced his soft cadence. His first novel had started as a nonsensical tale to entertain Atsushi during dreary days, but he’d completed it after he'd fallen into his deep slumber; the second one he'd written while clutching onto the sparks of inspiration he had left behind; the third, he'd finished due to the deadline looming over head; this time, the spark of creativity had begun to fizzle out. Perhaps if Atsushi was still conscious, the words would flow easier. Perhaps if Atsushi was still awake, defeat wouldn't have stung so badly. Perhaps if Atsushi was still by his side, he'd know how to handle the conflicting feelings bursting inside him. Perhaps --

Perhaps he needed a Goddamn break.

Gentaro sighed, finishing the last of the strawberries and cleaning the table he'd been sitting at.

"I'm sorry that I can't stay longer," Gentaro said, apology genuine. Half the day was already gone, and he hadn't accomplished a single thing. At the very least, he shouldn't neglect his home and leave the household chores unattended. Gathering his belongings, he gave Atsushi a sad smile. "I promise I'll have my manuscript done next time we meet. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. You've always been taken with the night life, haven't you?"

The heart monitor cheered its excitement, though Gentaro's smile fell little by little. He ran his fingers through Atsushi's hair, brushing his bangs from his eyes. Odd was it to see his hair matching his own length. Atsushi preferred to keep it short since he said it was a hassle to have it constantly in the way. Never mind that he played with Gentaro's locks when he could, within those moments of tranquility between them. It felt like ages since he'd last seen the crinkle of his dark brown eyes.

"I'll see you," Gentaro said softly, taking Atsushi's hand and running his thumb across his knuckles. His hand was as cold as the room he was in, the warmth having left long ago with his light. Gaze lingering on the slow rise and fall of Atsushi's chest -- the sole sign that he was still alive -- he finally tore himself away from his side.

Seeing him off, Atsushi's heart monitor bade Gentaro goodbye.

No matter how many times he left Atsushi, it grew harder and harder with every visit -- especially when he came to him as a loser instead of a victor. Standing outside of Shibuya Central, the clear skies that hung overhead and the temperate winds that breezed by reminded him of the day they'd met. Spring was said to herald new beginnings, but it brought him overwhelming bouts of nostalgia every year. Before the feeling spiraled deeper and deeper, Gentaro shook himself out of his thoughts and began his trek home. Were it up to him, he'd spend the entire day at Atsushi's side, but he knew he would be disappointed in him if he dropped everything for him. For his sake, he continued his work; for his sake, he carried on forward.

But as such, there were some obstacles in the way.

"Hey! Yumenon!"

Gentaro's steps faltered to a stop, scanning the crowds of Shibuya for the source of that strangely familiar voice. There was only one person who'd dare think about calling him "Yumenon," but he was another division away. At least, he should've been.

From across the street, his eyes landed on a man waving at him. Though a pair of Nackymade sunglasses framed his eyes and a leopard-print medical mask covered his face, the blond and lime hair sticking out of his ball cap undoubtedly belonged to Izanami Hifumi. Bemused, Gentaro raised a hand in reply, standing in place as Hifumi jogged up to him.

"I didn't think I'd run into you here, Yumenon!"

"How funny, Izanami-san. For once we're thinking the same thing," Gentaro mused. "What brings you to Shibuya?"

"Well~" Hifumi singsonged, the zippers of his backpack tinkling in harmony. "Doppo and Doc said I shouldn't stress my body out, right? So I decided to have some fun!"

"So far from home?"

"They don't have to know. And they won't know if I'm outside of Shinjuku Division!" Hands on his hips, he puffed his chest out like he'd solved the secrets of the universe.

"Ah. Sound logic," Gentaro said, leaving out the fact that nearly everyone in Japan knew who he was. Gossip spread faster before one could even say it.  

"Right?" Bouncing on his heels, Hifumi took his hand and rocked it back and forth. "Hey, why don't we hang out today?"

Gentaro retracted his hand from his hold, lips tugging down. "Izanami-san, I believe we should be stopping the rumors about us rather than fueling them."

"Oh yeah..." Pouting, Hifumi's shoulders sagged but his glum mood didn't last long. Gasping, he pointed a finger up. "How 'bout you wear these then?"

Without giving Gentaro the chance to question what exactly "these" were, Hifumi slapped his ball cap onto his head and shoved his sunglasses onto his face. Gentaro blinked, registering the sudden weight atop him and the dark tint of his vision. The hat sat loosely and the glasses perched lopsided as if they didn’t clash with his clothes enough already, but he made no move to remove them.

"And what about yourself? Someone is bound to notice you.”

"Um... I'll do this!" Pulling his hood up, Hifumi tugged the drawstrings of his sweatshirt so that the hood practically swallowed his face whole. Around the edges, tufts of blond hair stuck out. "See, now no one will recognize us!"

Though he couldn't see his mouth, the crinkle of Hifumi's eyes was a sure sign of a grin beneath the medical mask. Shaking his head, Gentaro's lips quirked up. He adjusted the hat and glasses, speaking with a yankii's accent.

"Ya damn right 'bout that, ain't nobody gonna mess with us lookin' like this."

"Totally yeah, we're some tough lookin' guys!" Hifumi said, with a flex of his arms and a hop in his step.

Not expecting him to follow along, Gentaro smothered his chuckle with a cough into his sleeve. "Very well then. Is there anywhere you'd like to go?"

Hifumi tapped his chin, head swaying from side to side. "Not really!"

"You mean to tell me you came all the way to Shibuya without a plan in mind?" Gentaro asked, incredulous.

"Yeppers! It was the closest division so I hopped on over here." He gasped. "Where are you going, Yumenon? I'll go with."

"No where particularly interesting," he said, technically not lying.

"Aw, boo," Hifumi whined, shaking his shoulder. "If you think it's cool, then it'll be fun! Y'know like, I invited Doc to go fishing and he was all like 'I don't know, Hifumi-kun, I've never fished before,' but now he totally loves it."

Picking Hifumi’s hand off, Gentaro let out a hum. "While Dr. Jinguji may be easily entertained, my intuition tells me we might have different definitions of 'fun.'"

"Try me!"

Despite how much of his face was covered, Hifumi was a rather expressive man. His bright irises held an excited shine and the dimples that surrounded them accented the smile Gentaro imagined underneath the mask; his body, as free and loose as his attitude.

"Then I shall," said Gentaro. Gesturing him to follow, he spoke in his yankii's lilt again. "Les' go."

The walk to Sakuragaoka-cho Street wasn't short per se, but Gentaro had gone through the path plenty of times for it to pass by quickly. With Hifumi, however, it seemed that the walk didn't last long enough. While Gentaro would usually be daydreaming as he made the trip, Hifumi gave him no opportunity to drift off into his made up worlds. From the puppies he ranked in terms of fluffiness, to the petals he counted drifting onto the ground, to the odd cracks on the sidewalks he skipped over, Hifumi chattered on just about every little thing he saw and Gentaro couldn't help but be swept up in it. Indeed, once they'd reached Sakuragaoka-cho, Gentaro's throat started to tickle from all the talking, but somehow, he found that he didn't mind.

"This is it?" Hifumi asked as Gentaro lead them to a quieter area of the street. Gentaro nodded an affirmation and the two of them took a seat near one of the sakura trees, Gentaro moving over a smidgen when their arms brushed against each others'. "Now what?"

Gentaro didn't reply immediately, scanning the people passing them by. Certainly, everyone had a tale to tell, but the ones who caught his eye first were the children standing off to the side like rocks amongst the flow of a river. Possibly no older than thirteen years old, looks of apprehension crossed their faces; the taller one pacing about and the shorter one frozen still.

"Izanami-san, what do you think of those two children over there?" he asked, pointing towards them.

Hifumi tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I said. Anything will suffice, simply say whatever comes to mind."

Swaying his head back and forth, Hifumi's cowlick bobbed along with the motions. "They seem kinda worried. Like maybe they're lost or something? 'Cause that kid's looking at their phone really hard."

It was as he said: in the shorter child's hand was a phone, their eyes fixated on the screen and their tongue poking out their mouth. The taller one's pacing picked up speed, their hands flying about as they ranted on.

"Yes, that may be so but don't you see why they're lost?"

“No…?” Hifumi said, brows furrowing.

Gentaro's lips quirked up. "Do you not see how uncomfortable they are? They were part of a lab experiment gone wrong that resulted in them switching bodies. Obviously, they're on the run as they no longer trust their superiors."

Gasping, Hifumi shook his shoulder. "So, so, so! So now they're trying to find a way to un-switch themselves! And that kid on the phone's trying to find a guy who can do that!"

"But that other child doesn't seem to think it's a good idea. See their face? They must think they're being tracked down by the scientists as we speak."

A hand flew to Hifumi's mouth. "And they think the guy their friend's found is probably a spy that'll turn them in!"

"Precisely. So now they're facing a bit of a dilemma: meet up with the man who claims he can help them or risk being captured."

"Oh no!" Hifumi said, hands clapping his cheeks. Before them, the children glared at one another with frowns on their faces; the air surrounding them tense as they faced off nose-to-nose. "What if they end up splitting up and something bad happens to one of them?!"

"It's certainly a trial for their friendship," Gentaro said, lips pursing as the children huffed and turned away from each other. "But..."

He trailed off, the two of them watching the stalemate between the children with bated breath. Like an episode of a drama that ended on a cliffhanger, Gentaro's mind went wild with speculation. Maybe Hifumi's prediction would prove true and the children would go their separate ways, off to face their unknown fates on their own. He, on the other hand, liked to believe in golden endings. Life was filled with enough bitterness already, after all.

"...But if the trust they have in one another is true," Gentaro continued, as the children turned back to each other with sheepish looks on their faces. "Then surely they'll find a way."

Though he couldn't hear a word they were saying, no doubt they were making amends for whatever disagreement they were having. Hand-in-hand, they smiled at one another and ran off to their destination together.

"You got that right!" Hifumi bounced in his seat, his knee knocking against his. "I hope they're able to un-switch themselves!"

The backs of the children growing smaller, Hifumi waved goodbye as if they could see him. A chuckle escaped Gentaro's lips.

"I as well."

This hobby of Gentaro's had originally started for two, but it became a solitary pass time as the years went on. Long had he grown used to being lost in his own thoughts that Gentaro had forgotten what it was like to bounce ideas with another, even if it was as juvenile as this. Though Dice praised his work, he had little insight to offer when it came to the creative process; likewise, Ramuda was more interested in what was in front of him than fleeting worlds. The only other person who'd followed his flow was trapped in his own dreams, but here Hifumi delved into his tale without question and picked up where he left off with no hesitation. Cliche as the scenario they'd written out was, it was the most fun Gentaro had creating a scene in a while.

Scanning the crowd for yet another story to spin, Gentaro pointed at the man in a business suit and neon pink hair. "How about that man over there, Izanami-san? What do you think of him?"

"Oh, him? He's, like, totally torn between being a superhero and a businessman!"

To the boy running around to test his not-so-useful invisibility powers to the couple eloping so they could support all of their magical pets together, the two of them continued weaving tales about those walking through Sakuragaoka-cho. Who knew how many people they'd seen or how many stories they'd told, but Gentaro didn't mind going on and on for the rest of the day. Sadly, the rest of the day was forced to a stop when a pair of girls blocked their sight.

"Oh my God, is that Izanami Hifumi?!"

"I think it is!"

While Gentaro's guard went up, Hifumi's vigor died out. His teeth chattered and his body trembled, cowering as he hid behind Gentaro; fingers quivering, he clutched onto the straps of his backpack. Gentaro had no chance to ask about his well-being as one of the girls pointed right at him.

"And you!" Gentaro held his breath, fearing more death threats. Fortunately, she appeared to be starstruck instead. "You're Yumeno Gentaro!"

Pulling the brim of the cap down, Gentaro spoke in his yankii's accent. "The hell's Yumeno Gentaro?"

"But your clothes are just like his!"

"Yeah, so? Ya actin' like clothes like this are one of a kind."

"Well, no, but..."

"Forgive me, dear kittens. Did I keep you waiting for long?"

Gentaro's head snapped over to see Hifumi holding his hand out to the girls. He'd pulled his hood and medical mask down to reveal impossibly perfect hair and a blinding grin, a suit jacket completing his attire. He figured that it'd been kept away in his backpack, if the haphazardly opened zippers were anything to go by. The girls, dazzled and captivated, didn't seem to care about the sudden change in Hifumi’s demeanor and squealed.

"We're big fans of you, Hifumi! We were wondering if we could take a pic with you?"

"Why, of course, darlings," he said, gesturing them closer to him. "A photo, an autograph, anything your heart desires; you name it and it shall be yours."

Giggling, the girls shoved Gentaro off and flanked Hifumi's sides. A terrible sense of deja vu crashed over Gentaro, washing away any offense he might've felt. As Hifumi and the girls snapped pictures, the women walking along Sakuragaoka-cho looked over Hifumi's way and whispered amongst themselves.

"My lovely kittens," Hifumi said to the ever growing crowd, winking as he stood up with a flourish of his hands. Gentaro's stomach dropped, memories of Chuuoku hitting like a tidal wave. "No need to be so shy. There's plenty of me to go around~"

As if he'd broken the spell of stillness, the women screamed and clamored towards Hifumi. No time to offer platitudes nor any time to quell the fervor, Gentaro had to act now. Before the crowd could suffocate them both, he grabbed Hifumi's wrist and ran off as quickly as he could.

"Wait, wasn't that Yumeno Gentaro?!"

"He just took Hifumi!"

Groaning, Gentaro mentally berated himself for his less-than-flawless course of action but he'd save his regrets for later.

"One at a time, my dears!" Hifumi called back to the women. "My love for you all knows no bounds!"

Yanking his arm, Gentaro sped up. "Hush, you!"

The streets of Shibuya became a blur, the screams of the women behind them surpassing the city's white noise. Never was he one for physical activity, Gentaro would be hard-pressed to admit, and the burn spreading throughout his legs was proof of that. Nonetheless, he pushed on. For all the death threats he received in the past month or so, nothing topped the fear of being devoured by a horde of fans.

After an eternity of running, Gentaro spotted an alleyway and dipped left. He pressed himself against the wall and slapped a hand against Hifumi's mouth, keeping a tight grip on him to prevent him from causing any more chaos. His heart drummed against his ears and he counted down the seconds as the women came and passed by like a hurricane. The noise fading away into the distance, Gentaro allowed himself to breathe.

"My dear Yumeno-sensei, there wasn't any need for interference," Hifumi said as soon as he let go of him. "I had it all under control."

"If that was having the situation 'under control,' I don't wish to know what you consider to be a disaster."

"The only disaster is that I couldn’t share my love with all those kittens today.” Hifumi laughed a hearty one at that.

Gentaro sighed as he slumped against the wall, but the sound of Hifumi's laughter was much preferable to the screams from mere moments ago. Catching his breath, he couldn't help but notice how flawless -- for lack of a better word --  Hifumi appeared to be in spite of all the running they'd done. In fact, the only sign of fatigue on his person was the sheen of sweat on his face, but even that could've been mistaken for some sort of highlighter. Indeed, the man in front of him stood tall and proud in contrast to the perky and bubbly demeanor he had earlier or the terror he displayed before the whole fiasco. He'd had his suspicions from Chuuoku and the day spent at Hifumi's apartment, but this confirmed it for sure.

"I see that story about your jacket wasn't a farce," Gentaro said, voice recovering from exhaustion. "It truly does change your personality."

"There's no reason to lie about such an integral part of me, Yumeno-sensei." Placing a hand over his chest, Hifumi continued. "You see, this jacket is the source of my confidence. As a boy, I'd experienced abuse at the hands of women and developed a terrible phobia ever since. When I turned twenty, I became a host in order to face my fears and wearing this jacket aided me in the endeavor."

To his bemusement, Hifumi had narrated his tale much like a script. Ever the storyteller, Gentaro's mind wandered about as to why he'd glossed over his trauma as if it were a minor detail, but he of all people knew that some things shouldn't be pried open.

"That's quite the leap you made in order to overcome your phobia," Gentaro said, an observation rather than an accusation. "But that does explain the discrepancies in your behavior back in Chuuoku."

"A face so pretty deserves to be treated accordingly.” Hifumi smirked, peering into his eyes.

Looking away with his chin held high, Gentaro’s stomach flipped. "I see the one thing that doesn't change is you speaking without thinking."

"I speak only the truth, Yumeno-sensei~"

With an exasperated sigh, Gentaro shook his head. "Be that as it may, there's no need for your suit jacket any longer. Come now, it's time to put it away."

"Ah, I beg to disagree," Hifumi said, adjusting his jacket with a casual tug. Despite the way he tried to play it off, there was a slight reluctance in his voice. "Who knows if we'll happen across another woman? As they say, it's better to be safe than sorry."

"And as I say, that jacket brings no safety given your gallivanting about." Gentaro’s annoyance melted away, however, when he saw the wariness in Hifumi's eyes. He'd claimed that the jacket was the source of his confidence, but it seemed that such a deep-rooted fear could even seep into such a proud persona. "Besides, I can handle the women fine."

Giving him a once over, Hifumi's grip on his jacket's lapel tightened. "Can you?"

Gentaro spoke with no hesitation. "Yes, Izanami-san. There's no reason to fear while I'm here."

Hifumi's gaze fell down to his jacket, his lips pursed tightly together. Patiently, Gentaro waited as Hifumi made his decision; the white noise of Shibuya filling his silence. After a moment, Hifumi smiled at him -- the sincerest smile he'd ever seen him wear while in his flirtatious character.

"I place my trust in you, Yumeno-sensei."

"You have my oath," Gentaro said much like a knight to his liege as he gave a small bow.

After another heartbeat, Hifumi shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it over his arm. Immediately, he slumped onto the wall and let out a strained exhale.

"Phew, I'm beat!" Wincing, Hifumi held a hand to his abdomen. "Y'know, I think Doc said something 'bout not running so much."

Gentaro frowned as Hifumi’s chewed on his lip, a wave of guilt rising up. "My apologies, Izanami-san. I'd forgotten to consider your condition when I acted."

"Psh, it's nothing," Hifumi said, waving him off. "Just feels kinda funny, is all."

"Still..."

"I said it as nothing, so it's nothing!" Perking up, Hifumi gave him a playful shove. "Besides, you were pretty cool back there!"

Gentaro raised an eyebrow. "Was I?"

"Yeah, like --" Hifumi squinted and scowled, posing in a way that Gentaro could only assume was himself back at Sakuragaoka-cho. "-- you looked so tough! And in front of all those women, too! I couldn't ever do that."

Gesturing vaguely, Gentaro shrugged. "One must do what they must, it was nothing so grand."

"I mean it though!" Hifumi said, bouncing on his heels.  

Abashed under his gaze, Gentaro cleared his throat. "Anyhow, we still have the day ahead of us. Is there anywhere else you'd like to go, Izanami-san?"

"How about --"

Before he could finish his thought, a tune blared and echoed against the alleyway walls; the melody sounding like it belonged in a nightclub.

"Whoops, totes soz, that's me!" Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Hifumi beamed as he answered the call. "Hiya, Doppo-chin~ How's it going? Oh, I'm a-okay! Yeah, I'm to~tally at home and didn't leave and -- ah..."

Though he couldn't hear the other end, the way Hifumi's face fell and the sudden increase of volume told him that the conversation took a downward turn. Equal parts pitying and equal parts amused, he watched Hifumi pout as if he was being berated by his parent. Having mercy on him, Gentaro plucked the phone from his hand.

"Hello, this is Kannonzaka, correct?"

"...and what if you got hurt again -- er, hello? Yes, this is Kannonzaka...?"

"This is Yumeno Gentaro, I'd like to apologize on Izanami-san's behalf." Seeing Hifumi's confused expression, Gentaro gave him a knowing smile. "You see, I was in need of references for my upcoming novel and I decided to ask Izanami-san for help. I took him out as thanks for his cooperation, although I should've kept in mind his health. Once again, my apologies."

"Um, I see," Doppo said, his voice returning to the anxious cadence he was more familiar with. "You don't have to apologize. I'm sorry for any trouble Hifumi caused you."

"He was no trouble at all," Gentaro lied easily.

"Ah, well... thank you for taking care of him today, Yumeno-san. Please see that he gets home safely."

"Of course, Kannonzaka."

He returned the phone to Hifumi, who gave Doppo a cheery goodbye before hanging up.

"What was that about?" he asked, lips puckering in question as he pocketed his phone.

"Consider it another form of gratitude for my life," Gentaro said, a teasing lilt to his tone. His next words, somehow, were a little harder to get out. "Although, I do believe this is where we'll have to part ways."  

Letting out a whining noise, Hifumi drooped over. "But we were having a lot of fun! I think we got some time left, like I just gotta get home before Doppo does."

Gentaro shook his head, tutting playfully. "I do believe it would give Kannonzaka peace of mind if you returned home and let him know. He seemed quite worried about you."

At that, Hifumi perked up. "Yeah, you're right! Doppo already worries 'bout a lot of things, y'know? Maybe we should take him out here some day!"

He said it as if they would be meeting again for sure, like an unspoken promise of a reunion. Certainly, Gentaro hadn't planned on seeing Hifumi today nor did he plan on seeing him again, but for some reason, he didn't bother correcting him.

"Hey, what's your email? Or like, do you have LINE?" Hifumi asked before he could respond.

"I'm afraid I've forsaken all forms of contact after the death threats I've received," Gentaro said, matter-of-factly. "In order to find some semblance of peace, I've moved to the woods."

"Oh, that sucks. Well, where's your forest? I'll send a carrier pigeon!"

Try as he might to stifle it, Gentaro huffed a laugh at Hifumi's response.

"It was a jest, Izanami-san." Taking out his phone, he opened up LINE and handed it to Hifumi. "Although I must let you know in advance that I'm a busy man, so most likely I won’t get to your messages."

"That's okay! Y'know like Doc takes for~ever to reply when he's busy and sometimes Doppo's so tired he forgets to respond," Hifumi said as he put in his contact information, not a single ounce of resentment in his tone.

Gentaro hummed in reply, feeling a bit bad for his fib then. His phone returned, he glanced at the username reading "Hifumin🐺🐺🐺" alongside the cutesy photo of Hifumi flashing a V-sign.

"I can't wait to talk with you!" Hifumi grinned, matching the one in his display picture.

More truth than lie, Gentaro said, "The feeling is mutual."

It was only after he'd gotten on the train that Gentaro realized he was still wearing Hifumi's cap and glasses, the reflection staring back at him in the window unfamiliar. Taking his phone out, he scrolled to Hifumi's name and paused, his finger hovering over it. To think, he'd be messaging him so soon when he never expected to be on civil terms with him in the first place. Setting the thought aside, he typed out his message.

He didn't wait long for a reply.

Setting his phone down, a ghost of a smile grew on Gentaro’s lips. Though he didn't intend for a "next time" to come along, mayhaps a very small part of him was looking forward to it. Not that he'd ever admit that -- especially not to himself.

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 6

Author’s note: The gang’s first robbery! Enjoy :)

From Eddie’s POV

SAINT DENIS, RYAN RESIDENCE

THAT NIGHT

“Don’t think too much about it,” Arthur’s gentle voice replayed in my mind. “Just aim, breathe in, and...”

A smile crept onto my face at the sweet memory whilst I sat at the piano, examining the gun he bought for me earlier.

Arthur was kind enough to gift me a beautiful Schofield revolver that had been decorated with a sleek rosewood varnish, brass frame, and blue-steel barrel. I also decided to purchase a carving of a buck on the grip, just to give it a personal touch, and hadn’t been able to stop staring at it since.

It truly was a gorgeous weapon, and it would always bring me pleasant thoughts of the day I got it...but even then, I hoped I’d never have to use it. Things were crazy enough for me in Saint Denis, what with all the chaos in my life. The last thing I wanted was to be forced to shoot someone.

But I supposed Arthur was right in the end: it never hurt to be armed.

“Oh God, Eddie...” I muttered to myself in embarrassment, thinking back to when Arthur taught me how to shoot a gun. “...You absolute moron.”

The man actually had to hold my arms in place because I was just that clueless.

He was so kind during the process, and showed no signs of impatience, but I didn’t even want to think about how much of an idiot Arthur must’ve thought I was.

I mean, it didn’t take much to see that he was insanely experienced with firearms. He handled guns better than an author handled a pen...and to see someone like me attempt to shoot one -- Arthur probably wanted to use me as the target.

Well, no. He probably didn’t.

Arthur was genuinely kind, unlike most of the other people I’d met. I could see it in his eyes, even though he spoke so lowly of himself.

He claimed he was a bad man, and yet he offered me help every time we ran into each other. I’d never seen him commit an immoral act, and he seemed to actually care about people, despite how much they might’ve annoyed him sometimes.

Deep down, he had a heart of gold. And I didn’t know what Arthur’s idea of “bad” was, but it certainly didn’t match mine.

Putting the revolver away, I returned to the piano and flipped through my notes, hoping to get in some last-minute practice. It wasn’t my first time performing in front of a large crowd, and I had been through this before, but I still found myself rather nervous about the show to come. After all, the entirety of the audience’s focus would be on me, and I just prayed I wouldn’t screw it up under the stress. I couldn’t afford to.

Relaxing my hands, I began to play the same melody I performed for Arthur the other day as my fingers danced across the keys, causing me to think back to the portrait the man had made of me.

Even though I had my suspicions Arthur was somewhat of an artist, I didn’t expect him to be that skilled. The portrait had a surprising amount of detail in it along with a rough but beautiful technique of shading, and it almost felt like I was staring at a mirror.

He even scribbled down a few words underneath the drawing with a type of handwriting I never thought I’d see from a man of his background, and wrote out the words I said to him when he came to my house.

Arthur truly was a marvel. The kind of man that only appeared once in a lifetime.

I just never thought it’d be during mine.

“...Ah, there you are.”

Jumping at the sudden voice, I instantly retreated my hands from the piano as if I were touching a hot stove, whipping around to see who had paid me a visit at this late hour.

A sense of anxiety began to inflate inside me upon seeing my guest’s face as I slowly dragged down the piano’s lid, clearing my throat in an awkward manner before greeting them.

“...Thatcher,” I said, averting my gaze from the man. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Evidently not,” Middleton replied, prowling into the room. “I wanted to discuss the matter we were talking about earlier, when your...friend interrupted us.”

I glanced out the window, peering into the night’s blackness.

“...Now? Isn’t it a bit late?”

Thatcher helped himself to a glass of wine before having a seat in the same chair Arthur used, his lifeless, smoke-colored eyes never leaving me.

“Well, I would’ve come earlier, but seeing as how you were out gallivanting all day, I didn’t exactly have the chance. Did you have fun with Mister Morgan? He certainly seems like...quite the riveting character.”

I hesitated to answer.

“...What do you want, Thatcher?”

Middleton took a sip, studying me for a moment with an astute glare before responding.

“...I want my money, Edward. The money that you said you’d repay ages ago. The money that I can easily get from Rose if you aren’t around anymore. Only...he won’t give it to me if he finds out you’re still alive.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “For someone who claims to be his own man, you certainly are loyal to that rat.”

I rested my elbows on my knees. “Look, I’m trying my best here, Thatcher. I said I’d pay you back and I will. But you keep asking for money when I have none to give. I just need some time. And patience. Fortunately for the both of us, the profit from tomorrow’s show should pay off the debt. And then our business will finally be concluded.”

Middleton lightly drummed his fingers against his wine glass, emitting a series of soft but sharp clinks.

“Good,” he said, his calm yet guttural voice rumbling in his throat. “Because I’m done waiting, Mister Ryan. If I don’t get my money soon, I might just have to finish the job, and bring Atticus Rose the blood he paid for.”

“I understand,” I reiterated. “Just...please. Give me some more time. I don’t have the money yet, but I will soon. All I need is a while longer. I beg you.”

I actually felt ashamed saying those words, and frowned upon myself for behaving in such a manner.

Good god, I hated begging like this. It made me feel so weak. So helpless. It was humiliating. And all for what? The empty promise of survival? For all I knew, Middleton could’ve been planning to kill me after collecting my debt anyways. He’d never have to tell anyone about our little deal, and he’d get double the reward from Atticus just for bringing my head.

I had lured myself into a trap like the fool I was, and as far as I could tell, there was no way out of it.

What the hell was I supposed to do next?

Considering my offer, Thatcher furrowed his brows in thought as he downed the rest of his wine, afterwards setting the glass down and silently heading for the door.

The man didn’t say anything, and the only thing that could be heard at the moment was the soft thud of his shoes hitting the floor, but I could still tell there were about a thousand different thoughts tangling inside his head.

I didn’t know why Thatcher was bothering to show me any mercy. He could’ve just put a bullet in my head here and now, and put an end to this...game. But for whatever reason, the assassin had decided to spare me in exchange for money, and pretend like I never even existed so long as he got the reward he was promised. It made me wonder if there were any ulterior motives behind his actions, and frankly, I was terrified to find out.

Middleton took one last look at me before showing himself out, pointing up a single finger.

“...One day,” he settled. “That’s it. One more day to live, or to pay. The outcome depends on you entirely, Eddie.”

I reluctantly agreed with the extension, silently cursing Thatcher for his endless cruelty. I wanted more than nothing to break out of the leash he had around my neck, but I knew I was powerless to do so. After all, I was no match for a man such as Middleton.

He had killed dozens of people in the past, and if I even attempted to fight back, I knew damn well that Thatcher would easily send me to an early grave.

Good lord...part of me kind of wished I had allowed Middleton to kill me back in England.

A defeated breath escaped me. “...Very well,” I replied. “One more day.”

Thatcher seemed pleased.

For now.

“Good. Otherwise, you know what happens. Until then, farewell, Mister Ryan. I’m glad we could come to an understanding. I just hope you can come through with it. ...For your sake.”

From Arthur’s POV

THE NEXT EVENING

SHADY BELLE

“Well, well, well!” Dutch exclaimed in an impressed tone, eyeing me up and down as he waved a cigar around. “Look at you, big man! You know, you don’t look half bad when you’re not covered in blood. Half of you is all I can see most of the time. Hah!”

I adjusted the ascot tie clinging around my neck, attempting to give myself some room to breathe as I squirmed in my suit.

A noose would’ve honestly been preferable at this point.

“Is this really necessary, Dutch?” I questioned, feeling like a pompous idiot.

“We want to grab as little attention as possible on this heist,” he reminded. “That means we have to fit in. Especially you and Mary-Beth. So yes, it is necessary.”

I shrugged. “...Fine. So, is the plan still the same?”

Dutch nodded. “Most of it, yes. The only thing I’ve decided to change is your role in this. Instead of pretending to be a couple out to see a show, you and Mary-Beth are gonna wear some masks that Charles and I snatched. The same masks that the actors will be wearing.”

I felt my heart stop. “The actors? Oh lord, Dutch. Please don’t tell me...”

He let out a guffaw. “Have no fear, son. You won’t be going on stage. I just need you and Mary-Beth to pretend like you’re a pair of actors who were...late to the show or something. Just keep the clerk distracted. Meanwhile, Bill will sneak into the ticket office from behind and...‘convince’ them to hand over every single dollar sittin’ in that register. When that’s done, the three of you will meet Charles outside. He’ll have a stagecoach ready to go once you’ve got the money, and then all of you will get the hell outta there.”

“And if somethin’ goes wrong?” I asked.

“Then we do whatever we must to escape. But the ideal outcome here is: no one dies, and we’re out of the theater before anyone even figures out what happened. If the law does somehow get alerted though, do not head straight back to camp, and split up. Understand?”

“Got it.”

Dutch patted me on the shoulder. “Then I wish you good luck. Oh, and put this on.”

Handing over one of the most flamboyant accessories I’ve ever seen, Dutch presented a porcelain mask decorated with bold jewels, paint, and feathers...as if to rub salt into my wounds.

I took the hideous thing into my hands, observing it with a face of fear as it stared back at me.

“If I had any good luck I wouldn’t be wearin’ this as a robbery mask.”

“Oh, just wait ‘till you see what Mary-Beth has to wear. You’ll be forgiving me later.”

I slipped the mask inside my overcoat. “The money will be forgiveness enough.”

He chuckled. “That it will. Well, be careful today, Arthur. And keep your wits about you. This job should be easy enough to pull off, but you know what they say. Expect the unexpected.”

I waved goodbye to Dutch, heading out to find Mary-Beth.

“That’s all I expect.”

ONE HOUR LATER

Squeezing myself into the stagecoach while Charles climbed up top, I found myself sharing a bit too much room with Bill as the both of us were forced to practically touch knees, barely able to fit in this box with wheels.

“And people say I'm grumpy.” I remarked, noticing the less than happy expression on Bill’s face.

“Shut up, Morgan.” He snapped back.

“Hey,” I replied with a chuckle, “at least you got the honors of wavin’ a gun around. Dutch wants me to keep mine holstered. All I get to do is stand there...and let the clerk gawk at me.”

Williamson rested a hand on his knee. “I’m surprised Dutch even let me take the money on this one. Usually, he always puts you in charge of emptying the register. Or the vault. Or pockets. Or whatever it is we’re stealin’ from.”

I leaned back in my seat, doing my best to get comfortable for the ride ahead.

“Well, Dutch did say the best way to pull off this mission is to fit in. And no offense, Bill, but...you kinda scare the shit outta people.”

Bill scoffed. “And you don’t?”

I let out a sigh. “Oh, I will once I put this mask on. Looks like someone skinned the devil.”

Williamson crossed his arms and stared out the tiny window. “At least you’ll have no issues fittin’ in, then.”

“Heh. That I won’t.”

Opening the stagecoach’s door, Mary-Beth joined the conversation as she plopped herself next to me, showing the most amount of excitement out of all of us. There was a certain spark in her eyes that made it look like she hadn’t stepped outside for ages, and she certainly seemed much more relaxed. Well, at least one of us was happy.

“Hello, fellas.” She greeted, tidying her gown.

“Hey there, Mary-Beth,” I responded. “You seem eager to get to work.”

“Oh, I am. This is the first big heist I’ve done in months. I’m just so glad Dutch chose me to come along with you boys. If I had stayed in camp for another minute, I might’ve lost my mind.”

Bill adjusted his suit. “You’ll lose it much faster out there.”

I smiled at Mary-Beth. “Well, I look forward to hearin’ your retelling of this one at the campfire.”

The young woman smirked. “It was just the three of us, sneakin’ our way under the moonlight’s dreamy gaze as we prepared to rob the grandest theater in all o’ Saint Denis...”

Bill grumbled. “...and we looked like fuckin’ idiots.”

We all chortled at that as the stagecoach began to move, prompting us to put our gear on.

“Alright,” I said with a soft laugh. “Enough of that. Get your masks on, people. The theater ain’t far from here.”

Mary-Beth followed my instructions and slipped hers on, causing my eyes to widen out of surprise.

“Jesus -- Dutch weren’t kiddin’ about your mask.”

She sighed dramatically. “I know, I know. First heist I get to go on in forever...and this is what I have to wear.”

I pulled my mask out of my coat, strapping the thing around my head.

“Perhaps I’ll forgive Dutch, after all. Anyway, good luck to both of you. Stay calm, and stay alert. No one has to die...and ideally, no one has to figure out what we’re doin’ before we’re gone. ‘Cause otherwise, I don’t feel like puttin’ on a second show for these folks.”

Mary-Beth gave me a firm nod. “We’re ready, Arthur.”

“...Then let’s do this.”

SAINT DENIS, THE RÂLEUR

Walking up to the theater once all the guests had already purchased their tickets, Mary-Beth and I approached the front doors together just as the show was starting to begin, giving us the perfect opportunity to slither in.

There were plenty of empty stagecoaches and horses waiting outside, and the closer we got, the more we could hear the muffled cheers of the audience enjoying the performance. Judging by the volume, there was going to be a hell lot of money just waitin’ for us to snatch. I only hoped that everything went according to plan.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Looks clear. Bill, find a way into the ticket booth. Quietly. Mary-Beth and I will distract the clerk in the meantime. Once you’re inside, we’ll grab the money from the register and meet Charles back here afterwards. Then, we get the hell outta this city before anyone even knows what happened. Got it?”

Bill pulled up his bandana. “Got it.”

I turned to Mary-Beth. “And you?”

She grinned. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good. Then let’s get to work.”

Breaking off from the group, Bill went on his own path while Mary-Beth and I hurriedly strolled towards the front doors, both our hearts pumping rapidly in our chests despite our calm exteriors.

It had been a long while since anything went right for the gang, and if I was being perfectly honest, I weren’t too confident about the this robbery either.

There were next to no cops around, even less witnesses...and the amount of money being promised to us almost sounded too good to be true. Part of me wanted to believe this was just a good score and that we were lucky enough to seize it, but my better judgement knew this wasn’t going to come without consequences.

Well, whatever storm was headin’ our way, I had faith that Dutch and the gang would be prepared for it. We survived Blackwater, we survived the mountains, and we sure as hell weren’t dying now. We had gone too far to go back.

Pushing the glass doors open, Mary-Beth and I casually sauntered in as the ticket clerk’s head perked upwards, greeting us with curious eyes.

“Ah, are you more of Abbington’s actors?” He asked, recognizing the masks. “Well, the show’s already started, but you should have enough time to slip in before anyone notices. Don’t wanna be late to a performance this big. Especially not with how many people are in the audience. Y’all have really planned something special tonight, haven’t you?”

I spotted Bill sneaking in from a side door as he stuck close to the walls, gradually inching his way to the booth.

I approached the clerk, keeping his attention away from everything but me.

“You have no idea,” I replied. “But actually, we’re lookin’ for a friend of ours. He’s another actor. Mighta seen him stumblin’ around here? He’s about this tall, always has a sour look on his face. A clumsy feller, but he knows what he’s doing. Just has a...a habit of being late, sometimes.”

The clerk shook his head. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone like that, friend. Have you checked with Abbington? Or perhaps Miss Marjorie?”

I decided to drop the subject. “Nah, we already asked them, but no harm done. We’ll keep looking for him. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere--” I paused in the middle of my words and pointed in the distance, letting out a chuckle. “Ah, never mind...there he is.”

Following my gaze, the clerk froze when he suddenly heard the sound of a gun being cocked behind him, not daring to move a single muscle as Bill nearly nailed the barrel into his head.

“Don’t scream,” I immediately warned, keeping my voice low. “Don’t cry. Don’t even breathe. Just give us the money in that there register. Otherwise, Benjamin Lazarus ain’t gonna be the only one catchin’ a bullet tonight.”

Bill applied more pressure with his rifle. “Do what he says.” He demanded.

The clerk held up his hands in surrender, whimpering out of fear.

“O-Okay, okay! I’ll give you the money. J-Just, please...don’t hurt anyone.”

“Oh believe me,” I threatened as the man desperately opened the register, “we don’t wanna hurt nobody. But we sure as shit will. If you give us enough of a reason to.”

Fumbling through the register with trembling hands, the clerk hastily gathered all the money clips and handed them to Bill while the show carried on inside, entrancing the crowd as they clapped and cheered, completely oblivious to the fact that their money was being taken away.

“That’s it...” Bill urged him. “Keep the cash coming.”

Mary-Beth whistled out of amazement, staring at all the green now sitting in Williamson’s bag.

“Whoo, would you look at all that money? I guess you boys was right about this job.”

“Just don’t let your guard down,” I reminded. “We ain’t outta here yet.”

Tossing every coin he could find into Williamson’s bag, the clerk threw his hands up in the air once again when he was finished and stared at us with a horrified, bewildered expression.

“Is that all the money?” I questioned.

“...Y-Yes!” He answered. I didn’t believe him.

I decided to bluff. “Alright, well if that’s the case...I guess we’ll just finish you off and search the rest of the place ourselves.”

“What?!” The clerk yelped.

“It’s nothin’ personal...” I reassured. “Just don’t wanna leave behind any loose ends. I’m sure you understand.”

“W-Wait!” He exclaimed. “There’s no more money, but there are some very valuable props backstage. Made out of gold and silver, they are. Jewels, too. You could sell them for a fine price, I imagine.”

“That so?” I asked. “I’ll go check. See if he’s tellin’ the truth. Mister W, you stay and make sure our friend here behaves. Miss G, why don’t you go on and bring the money to where it belongs? I’ll meet up with you two later.”

“Sounds good.” Mary-Beth agreed as I began making my way backstage.

“Be careful back there,” Bill warned. “Never know what you could run into with these freaks.”

I chuckled mischievously, throwing a glance back at him.

“Which freaks we talkin’ about here?”

BACKSTAGE

Roaming quietly through the clutters of props, mannequins, and furniture stored in the back of the theater, I cautiously searched for the valuables the clerk spoke of as I did my best to avoid any of the staff who could’ve been wandering around.

Right now, it seemed like most of the people involved in the show were on the other side of the curtain, and so far, I hadn’t seen any other actors backstage. Still though, I wanted to leave as soon as possible. I could sneak around well enough, but I didn’t want to push our luck more than we already had.

Sifting through the multiple boxes and crates scattered around, I picked up a few things here and there that I thought we could sell to a fence, constantly checking behind me to ensure no one crept up while I wasn’t looking.

Even if I didn’t manage to take everything though, we had stolen more than enough money for one night. I knew Dutch said there’d be loads of cash for us to lift at the theater, but I had no idea just how many people were actually gonna be pourin’ through the doors today.

We must’ve collected a few hundred dollars. At least. And that was without all the stuff I found back here.

Maybe Dutch wasn’t quite as lost as I expected. Maybe the old man had been right all along, and I was the one changing. Not him.

I just wanted what was best for the gang. Sure, there was a lot of rotten people within our big, dysfunctional family...but we also had good people. Those who deserved a better life. A life that we were capable of giving to them. All we needed to make that happen...was one last score. And then, we were free.

“Don’t...move.”

Halting in my tracks, I came to a stop when I heard the unmistakable sound of someone pulling down the hammer of a gun, and a series of gentle, yet unwavering footsteps coming from behind me.

Shit.

“Throw your weapon away.” They ordered.

Careful not to provoke them, I steadily turned around to face the confronter as I left the props on the floor and complied, never taking my eyes off them.

“Listen, boy...” I said, slowly rotating my body. “I didn’t come here to shoot no one, but that don’t mean--”

Cutting off mid-sentence, I felt my skin turn to stone when I finally laid eyes upon the stranger’s face, suddenly regretting ever coming here in the first place.

Pointing a Schofield revolver directly at my head, Eddie stared me down with a frightened but unbreakable strength in his forest-colored eyes as he tried to calm his own breath, clearly terrified by the whole situation even if he didn’t show it.

Well...if there was a god above, he certainly had a unique sense of humor. I couldn’t believe it.

I was being held at gunpoint.

By my own student.

In a theater that I was trying to rob.

“Look,” Eddie said, his tone shaking slightly, “I don’t know who you are, but just...go. Leave everything you took behind, and don’t come back. Please. No one needs to get hurt.”

I took a few, subtle steps forward, trying to remain calm.

“Easy there, partner...” I murmured.

Eddie gulped out of anxiety and mindlessly clenched his jaw, unable to move due to the terror holding him down.

“I-I mean it,” he reiterated. “Leave.”

I continued to approach him despite his commands, whispering softly in an attempt to ease the boy’s nerves.

“...Now, I ain’t gonna hurt you...” I reassured. “I just came here for money. Not blood.”

The pianist fell silent at that, his arms quivering as he kept the gun aimed at me. I could tell he was scared, but not scared enough to pull the trigger. Eddie didn’t strike me as the type to shoot someone out of panic, and I certainly prayed that I was right.

“...That’s it...” I encouraged. “Nice and easy...”

Eddie stayed in place, his breath still somewhat quick, but not quite as fear-driven as before. It was working.

My lord, I could only imagine what I was doing to this poor kid. He weren’t gonna be able to sleep for the rest of the week, and I’d probably be in every single one of his nightmares from here on out.

Though, I couldn’t deny that Eddie certainly had a pair of stones on him. He had a bravery I’d not seen in very many other people, and I didn’t even want to think about how much hell he’d raise if he had the same gunslinging skills as Dutch.

Just as I was about to defuse the tension however, Bill himself suddenly snuck up behind Eddie and bashed him in the back of the head with his rifle, knocking the boy out cold before he even hit the floor.

I glared at the attacker, instantly rushing over to Eddie’s unconscious body as Bill grabbed the props.

“The hell, Williamson?!” I practically growled through gritted teeth.

“What?” He exclaimed, hauling the sack over his shoulder. “Dutch said no killing. He never mentioned anything about hittin’ people!”

I sighed in irritation. “That’s not the point-- oh for Christ’s sake, forget it. Let’s just get outta here. C’mon, Charles and Mary-Beth will be waitin’ outside.”

“Who’s ridin’ shotgun?” Bill asked, following me to the front of the theater.

“I will,” I answered. “You just worry about keeping that money safe. We got a lot sittin’ in those bags, and we ain’t losing ‘em now!”

Escaping with Williamson, the two of us ran like hell as I unholstered my own guns and kept an eye out for any lawmen that could’ve been lurking about, still feeling incredibly guilty over what happened with Eddie.

The boy was only trying to protect the money that he earned, and not only did I sweep it out from right under him,  I also put him through what would probably be one of the most terrifying moments of his life.

Unlike everyone else I knew, Eddie had never killed a man before or lived the life of an outlaw. He had grown comfortable with the safety of a city’s walls, and to end up being stuck between two robbers like he did tonight...I was gonna have to make this up to him somehow.

But I’d worry about that later. Right now, my only concern was getting out of Saint Denis as fast as humanly possible. For the first time in a while, things actually went mostly according to plan, and we just stole a more-than-decent chunk of cash. Dutch was going to be pleased.

“There’s Charles,” I announced as we came through the entrance. “Quick! Get in, and let’s go!”

Climbing onto the stagecoach, Bill took the sacks of money and stuffed himself inside with Mary-Beth, the four of us taking off as soon as the door was closed.

Even though there were no lawmen chasing us at the moment, neither Charles nor I wanted to take any chances and urged the horses to gallop faster as we bolted through the city’s streets, almost floating above the cobblestone with our speed.

I had to admit: despite the encounter with Eddie, I was feelin’ good for once. It was about time a robbery went right...but I still couldn’t help wondering how this was going to affect the pianist’s life.

I mean, now that I thought about it, every time I talked with the man, he was always mentioning how much he needed more money. He mentioned it at the saloon. He mentioned it after we ran into Miss Powell...

I didn’t know if he was in some sort of trouble, or what was going on in his life, but...Eddie did sound a bit desperate.

Jesus, what had I gotten myself into? Even when something finally worked out for the gang, I still had my doubts about our victory.

Sure, we were a huge step closer to buying our freedom, but at what cost? The freedom of another?

To be honest...I didn’t know if it was worth it.

I mentally slapped myself across the face, snapping back to reality.

No, I couldn’t afford to think like that. Empathy got you killed out in these lands, and compassion betrayed you. My place was at Dutch and Hosea’s side, and that was where it’d always be. No matter what. And I’d just have to accept that.

I liked Eddie. I really did. Hell, maybe I even had the potential to love him...but not in this life. I had already pursued love enough times to know how it ended, and I couldn’t bear to put the boy through the same fate.

He was a kind soul, built to lift those around him.

As for me -- I was nothing but a ghost walkin’ among men.

And regardless of what I felt for Eddie...

...None of it was gonna change a damn thing.

[slashed-dreamzzz]

Can you do some nsfw headcannons for Michael and bubba ?

Oh boy lets go

Michael

-For a guy that’s been in an asylum most of his life,Michael is a damn good kisser. He almost never does it with the mask fully off.Every time, he’ll just lift it slightly, pull you right up against him, and make you see stars. They’re rough,possessive, and it makes him go wild if you’ve just eaten chocolate candy. Heloves tasting the chocolate from your mouth, swallowing your delicious moans as he indulges. Makes it all the more sweeter. But he’s such an asshole about it too. After he’s “eaten”, he’llgive you a ghost of a smirk, pull down his mask, and leave right afterwards likenothing happened. Meanwhile, you’re standing there with a half-eaten Hershey bar andstruggling to remember your own name.

-Let’s put this out there right away; Michael doesnot sub. For anyone. If you wanna be “impaled”, you gotta accept this factstraightaway. You are at his mercy to torture as he pleases. You’llmoan when he wants you to moan, you’ll cum when he wants you to cum, and you’llbe okay with all of this because he’ll make you want to obey. Even if you dofind yourself on top, Michael will just grab your hips and fuck any and allthoughts of having control from your mind. Call him Daddy and he won’t let you leave until you lose your voice. Have you accepted this? Excellent.

- Very rarely is Michael gentle.He’s rough. Like if he goes long enough he’ll break either you or the bed,whichever comes first (it’s you, it’s almost always you). You’ll be lucky ifyou walk straight afterwards. If you can walk at all. When you do manage towobble away, you can feel the self-satisfied smirk Michael wears under the mask as he gazes at the multitude of bruises embellished upon your body. Signs that you are his.

-Whether Michael keeps the mask on or off really depends onhis mood. He’ll keep it on if he wants it quick and dirty, his grunts andgrowls obscured by the rubber. If you’re coherent enough, sometimes you can seehis eyes staring right into yours through the holes, taking in every arch of your back, every moanthat comes out of your filthy mouth, silently storing away every trick thatmakes you sing. When the mask comes off is few and far between. But if it does,it’s times like these you’ll know things will be taken slower, more sensually.You love looking at Michael’s un-obscured face, but rarely does he allow you totouch it. For the most part, you’re content with watching emotions flit acrosshis face as he grinds into you slowly, oh so slowly, dragging out the sweettorture for the both of you. You are allowed, however, to grip his hair as hard as you want.

-This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but Michael is very muchinto knife play. If you express a desire to try it out, there’s no turningback. To start, he’ll slowly glide his blade across your chest, up to yourclavicle, pausing ever so briefly near your neck before going south once again.He’ll make long, deliberate cuts across your chest and belly, watching as blood begins tobead from your skin, adorning your body with lovely cuts like a canvas. Bending down, he’ll lick every drop as you squirmunderneath him, his tongue tracing each and every cut, the stinging pain so sweet. He’ll then come up and roughly claim your lips, allowing yourself ataste of your own blood, the metallic tang only making your desire more inflamed. Michael will repeat the process on your thighs,teasing closer and closer to your sex, until you can no longer discern betweenpain and pleasure.

Leatherface

-I’ve said this before, but for all of Bubba’s inexperience with “experimenting” and the like, he more than makes up for this in eagerness. Eagerness to please you, to show you just how much you mean to him without using words that he so struggles with. The reason why he’s so willing to reciprocate when you two have alone time is because he can’t possibly describe these feelings he has for you with his limited vocabulary. So he’ll do other things to make up for it.

-Kissing is one of them. It can range from sweet pecks on your cheek throughout the day, to sloppy lip-locks that leave your lips bruised, swollen, and practically crawling into his lap for more and more. Bubba’s large hands are always wandering, from your hips that he loves, to your ass, and, strangely enough, your shoulders. Like he’s always trying to bring you as close as possible, and never let go. But it’s mostly your ass. He loves dragging you into his lap, and especially loves when you grind down on his bulge. You just look so cute doing it!

-Usually, you’re the one that teases Bubba throughout the day. He’ll be hauling meat to his butchers workshop, and you come outside with the intent of bringing him some lunch, only to be drawn to the way his muscles bulge through his filthy t shirt and he hefts it down to embrace you. You’ll give a tiny wicked grin as you hug Bubba back, and rub your hands all along his backside. If he doesn’t notice, you sneak your hand down between his legs and give a faint squeeze, grinning as he starts to take notice and fluster under your ministrations. Brushing your lips against his, you whisper that lunch is ready, but he’ll have to follow you inside for it. Bubba hefts you up on his shoulder as you giggle like a maniac and marches straight to his room, his hand gripping your ass all the way.

-Bubba doesn’t mind when you top him. In fact, he prefers it. He knows he’s a big guy, and is always somewhat worried he’ll crush you. Besides, he loves watching you bounce on his cock, moaning his name so sweetly and so needy. You always want to make Bubba feel as good as he makes you feel, so you like to go the extra mile and break out his special pet names. As you touch his tummy, you like to coo how “Such a good boy you are, my big, sweet, boy. My chubby butcher, so strong, so handsome.” It breaks him in the best way possible, as he moans and grips your hips even harder. 

-Like Michael, Bubba doesn’t often take his mask off. Years of hiding behind one makes opening up to you that much harder. At first, whenever the two of you were intimate, you acquiesced when he blubbered frantically about keeping it on, and let him. You felt somewhat upset, but knew that in time he would hopefully allow you to see his real face. You would love him no matter what. In the heat of the moment one day, with Bubba on top for once, you practically beg to see his face, to touch it, to kiss it. How could Bubba continue to deny you? He stops pounding into you, and slowly reaches to undo the laces behind his head. What you did that day will always bring Bubba to tears. You gently cupped his face, and whispered, “Now there’s my Bubba. Handsome as always.” He whines happily, burying his face into your neck, and resumes rocking into you at a slower, but no less riveting pace. If Bubba had any doubts you’d stop loving him, they are dead in the ground now.

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

This is for You

Plot: AU He’s self-conscious of himself ever since his crush turned him down. Your roommate threw a costume party just because but you had to miss out for a music test coming up. His friends dragged him to said party and he was ready to bolt until he heard a song he’s never heard before.

Rating: PG-13 (College party, minor language, body issues, self-doubt)

Characters: College Student!Jimin x Female Reader, feat. mentions of other members

Notes: The author was listening to her library recently and remembered that “Gold” by Britt Nicole was in there. Hearing that in real life Jimin has struggled with loving himself made me want to imagine how he’d react if he heard someone singing this song. If anyone actually does sing the song to him in real life, you are awesome and I want to hear all the details afterwards, okay?

“Why are you hosting a costume party? Halloween just ended!”

“Because costumes are fun! And second, why does Halloween have to be the sole reason someone can wear a costume?” your roommate Lea shot back. Her eyes narrowed and she gave you a look, daring you to challenge her reasoning.

You held your hands up and muttered that it wasn’t limited to one night a year. You picked up your guitar case and sheet music, glancing over at the backyard. “Guess I’ll be in the shed tonight.”

Lea pouted and you gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, but I’ve got a performance test in a few days and it’s worth 25% of our grade.”

“Fine, but next party, okay?” Lea said as she pointed at you. “Do you want me to ban people from the backyard?”

“Nah it’s cool – I’ve got a sign I can stick on the door,” you replied. You slipped out through the backdoor of the house you were renting and used your key to unlock the shed. It used to be a playhouse that the owner’s kids had before growing up and heading off to school, but you and your roommate had converted it into a practice room for studying or rehearsing music without interruptions.

“You seem excited – got your exam back already?” Jimin asked as his roommate came in, dropping his backpack onto his bed.

Jungkook dug around in his bag and fished out a flyer, handing it off to Jimin before making a beeline for the closet. Jimin smoothed the crinkled paper and saw it was an invitation to a costume party, hosted by one of the soprano singing majors who was a year ahead of them. He sighed as he put the flyer on Kook’s bed before settling back into his seat, drawing his knee up.

“It’s an excuse to wear that costume I was torn between!” Jungkook blurted out as he tossed the pieces of the costume onto his bed. “You’re coming, right?”

Jimin made a face and shook his head. “Maybe I should stay home,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

The younger boy stopped what he was doing and rolled his eyes at his friend, who was perched on a chair, knee drawn up with his chin resting on it.

“What, are you going to study for that ‘it’s-worth-1/3-of-your-final-grade' exam?” Jungkook snorted. He dragged his friend to his feet and began guiding him to the closet. “Chim, you’re not fooling me and I’m not letting you sit here and mope.”

“Halloween was weeks ago!”

“So? Who said it had to be Halloween to do a costume party? C’mon it’ll be fun!” Jungkook begged. “No one’s gonna know it’s you.” He clasped his hands together and attempted to use his cutest begging look on the older boy.

Jimin scrunched up his nose and twisted his lips into a frown. Damn Kookie and his aegyo...

“Clark Kent?” Taehyung guessed when his friends showed up. He pointed to Jungkook as he took a sip from his cup. “And our baby’s the Punisher.”

Jimin nodded as he pushed the costume glasses up. He didn’t want to be here, nor did he want to be dressed like Superman’s civilian ego. Initially Jungkook had recommended a few complex costumes with props and masks, but none of those seemed appealing to Jimin, who dismissed them as being too much work to do. The former located an old Superman logo tee in the bottom of his closet and made his roommate put it on before assembling the other pieces to make an easy Clark Kent costume.

The tee was too tight in his opinion, but at least the white shirt covered it. Sleeves were going to be left down but at the younger boy’s request, they were rolled up to show off Jimin’s biceps. Sure they looked good but he felt exposed trying to pose as the iconic DC hero.

“Is there a contest or something?” Jungkook asked as he gestured to Tae’s outfit.

Taehyung shook his head and allowed his crimson colored lips to form a pout. He nodded in the direction of the host and murmured that she had not planned a contest for the best costume. He fixed his purple suit jacket before crushing his cup in his hand. “Wish there was one though – I think I would have won.”

“Or...not,” Jungkook muttered as he spotted the valedictorian arrive, a horde of girls following him in a trance.

Jimin looked and saw that Namjoon was dressed as a Victorian-era vampire, complete with light colored contacts and fake blood dripping from his plump lips. He wished he had looked away sooner, for he spotted his old crush Risa lingering around Namjoon. Her hand reached out to touch the valedictorian’s arm and she laughed loudly at something said.

Tae scowled at the group and snorted in disgust. “Hyung is cool, but his costume is cliche. No originality.”

“Let’s move to another room,” Jungkook ordered as he dragged Jimin toward the dining room.

As they began moving away from the small group, the pair heard Taehyung throw out, “I thought this was a costume party, not a strip club!”

Jungkook snickered at their friend’s snarky comeback and Jimin allowed a small smile to cross his lips. Leave it to Tae to speak candidly about the situation.

“Don’t engage her, okay? Just relax and fun,” Kook said. “I’ll stick with you the whole night – promise.”

“Hey you – I come bearing water,” Lea said as she entered the shed, bottle in hand.

You thanked her as you accepted it, put your guitar down, and twisted the cap off to take a sip. She watched you drink as she gave you a brief rundown of who was there and what they were wearing.

“By the way, everyone’s being told to stay inside, unless they need fresh air or a smoke,” she added. “Gotta tell you, out of everyone who came, Namjoon surprised me.”

You snorted as you recapped the bottle. “Ha, well I’m not,” you replied. While Kim Namjoon was the brightest kid on campus, you had seen him outside of his usual attire of neatly pressed pants, clean shirt in a contrasting color, and red Converse. Occasionally you found him in one of the smaller clubs you visited, often spitting raps under his stage name RM. To you, there was clearly more to him than just books and smarts but everyone bought into his cute nerd look.

“Even Risa’s trying to impress him – you should have seen her outfit,” Lea admitted. “I mean, it’s technically a short, ‘everyone’s gonna see your ass if you bend over’ negligee and a pair of cat ears.”

You cocked your head and frowned as you tried to picture it. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same person? The girl I used to be friends with in grade school until Mommy and Daddy got rich and moved her away from the riffraff?”

Lea nodded and you rolled your eyes as you picked up your guitar and placed it on your lap. Yeah, that girl you used to be friends with in grade school? She was long gone – ever since her parents came into a bit of money after a grandparent passed, Risa got caught up in the mess. Technically she wasn’t cold or rude to you these days, but you never acknowledged each other beyond polite greetings in passing.

“Yeah, same snot who mocked that guy when he confessed his feeling for her – dunno the guy’s name, but boy did I feel for him,” Lea recalled with a sad look. “All I could think when I heard that was, ‘Wow, what a bitch!’ Wonder if that guy’s okay – she really humiliated him from what I heard.”

You nodded stiffly. You didn’t know the young man she turned down, but what you had gathered was that it was a younger student who had a sweet, heartfelt confession. Shallow Risa dissed the guy as being too soft, emotionally and physically for her liking, laughing as she left the poor guy standing there completely crushed.

“Thanks for the update,” you said as you slung the guitar strap over your body. “I need to practice my personal piece. Feel good about the scales and prepared piece, but I really need to nail the personal one.”

“Good luck!”

“She’s evil,” Tae remarked as he glared over at Namjoon and Risa. “Joonie’s too smart to buy her nonsense.”

“Chim, no alcohol for you tonight,” Jungkook ordered as he snatched the cup out of the elder’s hand. “You don’t wanna be hungover tomorrow.”

“Try the dumplings – heard the host made them from scratch,” a voice spoke up as someone joined them.

The trio looked up to see it was Jin, a theater major who was a few years older than them. Jin held out a paper plate with hot dumplings and prompted everyone to take one. Jungkook grabbed one and bit into it, wincing as the hot contents nearly scalded his mouth. Tae blew on his before nibbling on it and Jimin shook his head as he held up a hand.

“They’re not part of my diet,” he replied.

Tae scowled at him and shot Jungkook a look. “I thought he was done with this diet mess!”

“I tried!” Jungkook protested with his hands up. “He refuses to eat anything I bring home unless its raw or very plain! He keeps going to the gym with me and literally will be there at least an hour after I’ve left!”

“There’s nothing bad in them Chim Chim,” Jin said as he showed the inside of the dumpling he was eating. “See? Lots of veggies and pork. You love pork.”

Jimin shook his head and stood up from his seat. He glanced around, searching for the nearest door and mumbled he needed some fresh air. Before any of the members could stop him, he was pushing his way through the crowd and turning the handle.

“Everybody keeps score/Afraid you’re gonna lose/Just ignore/They don’t know the real you,” you sang as you worked your way through this passage at a slowed down tempo. You paused for a moment and reset your metronome, letting it tick closer to the actual tempo of the original song. You repeated the chords for the section you just played and hummed softly before making a note on your music that you were able to play that part up to speed.

“All the rain in the sky/Can’t put out your fire/Of all the stars out tonight/You shine brighter,” you sang as you played the next part slowed down. “This, this is for all the girls/Boys all over the world/Whatever you’ve been told/You’re worth more than gold.”

Jimin caught his breath once he got outside and he walked away from the door. Was it too much for him to ask for a quiet night without the painful reminder of Risa rejecting him? Or being tempted by foods he couldn’t eat, lest he risk putting on weight again? He knew his friends were worried about his recent decisions but he was convinced that he knew what he was doing. As cruel as Risa had been to him, she did speak the truth – no one would want him soft, especially if they could have someone like Namjoon or even Jungkook with his toned arms and confident attitude.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to take deep breaths to ease his anxious mind. He frowned when he heard a female voice coming from the backyard and his eyes flew open. He slowly walked in the direction of the voice, which was coming from a small house or shed with windows, one of which was cracked open.

“So don’t let anybody tell you that you’re not loved/And don’t let anybody tell you that you’re not enough/Yeah, there are days when we all feel like we’re messed up/But the truth is that we’re all diamonds in the rough,” you sang. Your fingers fumbled on this segment and you stopped, chewing on your bottom lip in frustration. Ugh, even slowed down this one was giving you trouble. You sighed as you picked up your metronome and shut it off, deciding it was time for a break.

Jimin lingered at the entrance to the shed and read the sign on the door. He took a few steps back and glanced back at the house. He didn’t want to bother whoever was in there but at the same time he wanted to know more about the song and the person singing it.  He swallowed the lump in his throat and raised his fist, knocking lightly on the door.

“Um excuse me? I uh, I’m sorry for bothering you,” he began as he lowered his fist. “I um, I heard you singing and I wanted to know what song that is. Would you please...”

You blinked when you heard the knock, accompanied by the warm voice. You set the guitar on its stand and rose from your seat, opening the door to the shed carefully. You stuck your head out and met the boy’s eyes.

“Hey, was I too loud? I didn’t think anyone heard me,” you admitted with a shy smile.

He shook his head and explained he needed some fresh air. “I came out here and I heard a voice singing, so I followed it and wanted to know more.”

You opened the door wider and stepped to the side. “Yeah it was a guitar version of Britt Nicole’s “Gold” – I’ve got a performance test coming up and that’s supposed to be my personal piece I’ll play.”

Jimin’s mouth opened in an ‘o’ shape and he nodded before looking back at the house, spotting your roommate wandering around the party. “Are you the host’s roommate?”

You nodded and rested your fingers around the edge of the door. You hadn’t seen this guy around before but he was cute as Clark Kent – glasses suited him and the stud earrings were kind of edgy but hot.

“Paroling the streets for bad guys Clark?” you teased with a smile.

He blinked before looking down at himself and laughing at your dumb joke. “My friend’s idea – he made me come,” Jimin explained. “But...I’m glad I did, because I heard a new song and I really like it.”

“The original is better,” you admitted with a shrug. “I can play about 89% of it without problem but its the bridge that gives me so much trouble.”

Jimin cocked his head at your guitar and looked over at it. “Um, could I hear the whole thing? I don’t care if its perfect – I’d just like to hear your version right now. The guitar is very pleasing to listen to.”

You smiled shyly and nodded before stepping to the side to let him in. He thanked you with a brief nod of his head and you pointed out a spare chair for him to sit in. He took a seat in the chair and watched as you got ready, picking up the guitar, slipping the strap over your head, and adjusting the tension on some of the strings.

“You were walking on the moon/Now you feeling low-ow-ow/What they said wasn't true/You're beautiful,” you began, your eyes lifting from the body of the guitar to meet Jimin’s eyes. “Sticks and stones break your bones/I know what you're feeling/Words like those/Won't steal your glow/You're one in a milli–”

“ChimChim I’m sorry about the dumpl–OHO! So sorry!” Jin stammered as he moved away from the door. He bowed low and apologized repeatedly for interrupting you as he backed away, mumbling he was going back inside.

You blinked as you watched Jin leave and Jimin shook his head with a faint smile.

“ChimChim? That’s a new one – it’s cute!” you remarked as you looked over at Jimin with a smile.

It was his turn to duck his head and he waved his hand. “It’s a nickname my friends gave me – real name is Jimin.”

You held out a hand and he shook it. “Y/N, nice to meet you. By the way, did he steal your dumplings from you? I can probably ask Lea to make more some other time – they’re super easy to make.”

Jimin shook his head, his hand going to the back of his neck. “Um, he offered me one, but I can’t eat it – I’m on a diet, you see.”

“I mean, it’s your choice but I personally don’t think you need to go on one,” you admitted. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and shyly looked down. “You look handsome in glasses and...I like your earrings. You look so smart.”

“Wae? Oh you don–”

“No I’m serious!” you protested as you leaned forward. “Look, I don’t wanna be too forward but you seem really sweet and I’m glad you came tonight and knocked on the door.”

He felt his cheeks warms up and he allowed a huge smile to cross his lips at the compliments.

“You’re killing me with that smile ChimChim,” you remarked shaking your head. “It’s adorable and now I wanna smile even after a stressful practice session!”

“Is this real?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Yes,” you replied as you placed your hand on top of his. “Am I keeping you from your friends?”

He shook his head and scooted forward on his chair, cupping his chin in his hand. “I’d like to hear the rest, if you’re up to playing it.”