#attention seeking skyscraper

[maestro-of-miscellany]

I hate capitalism, like it's one thing for swifties as a fandom to be clowning a rep tv announcement but why are companies getting involved? like auntie anne's I don't think you ARE ready for it actually

[xxoxobree]

Intoxicating Pt.1

Hobie x Black Fem Spider Person Reader

Summary: You often accompany Miguel to other worlds seeking out anomaly's. Earth 138 was different you met their Spider-Man who seemed to have an interesting effect on your body.

A/n: This is supposed to mimic Cindy Moon & Peters Relationship.

As you strode through the bustling halls of HQ, your feet carried you towards the obscure room where Miguel would often be found, his eyes fixated on the various screens as he worked tirelessly to ensure that the multiverse remained flawless.

Although you had attempted to lure him out of his lair on numerous occasions, he had always refused, stating that his duty was to remain vigilant and watchful within those walls. When he summoned you today, you knew that it could only mean one thing - yet another anomaly had emerged, and it was up to you and Miguel to identify and send it back to its rightful dimension.

With a sense of purpose and duty, you made your way towards the designated room, always ready to do your part as Spider-Man. Your braids, adorned with beads on the end, jangled and clinked with each step you took, providing a satisfying sound. In your hand, you held a warm cup of coffee, careful not to scald your tongue as you took measured sips.

Upon entering the room, you savoured one last gulp of your coffee before addressing Miguel. "Hey there, what's the latest update? What do we have on the docket for today Layla?" you asked, eager to get started on the next mission.

Layla's hologram appeared on your watch, displaying crucial information about a Venom anomaly on Earth 138, the first Symbiote anomaly.

"Earth 138, huh? Isn't that dimension plagued with symbiotes already? This sounds like a challenge but interesting,"you remarked.

Before you could say anything else, Miguel cut in abruptly. "Enough talk. We need to get to work."

You couldn't help but feel a bit taken aback by Miguel's aggressive tone. "Hey, rude much?" you retorted, feeling slightly irritated.

Miguel let out an exasperated sigh, clearly having had enough of your presence for the day. "Come on, Y/n, let's go before this thing splits and creates more havoc," he said, opening up a portal and striding through it.

Quickly adjusting your mask and thwiping a web, you followed him through the portal with a leap and a swing. As you landed on the edge of a towering skyscraper, Miguel greeted you with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Finally, you decided to show up," he muttered.

Taking a moment to observe your surroundings, you marveled at the world's colors and picturesque scenes. It looked like everything was cut straight out of a magazine.

Your voice was low as you murmured, "This dimension is one of the most fascinating I've ever seen." But your attention was quickly diverted as your spider senses tingled, warning you of a danger lurking below. The Venom anomaly was poised to attack a group of innocent civilians.

"Miguel, look!" you shouted urgently, pointing downwards as you swung into action. With your leg stretched out, you landed a swift kick that sent the symbiote hurtling backwards.

"Run! Get out of here!" Miguel warned the civilians, his voice urgent as he watched them flee to safety.

The Venom anomaly let out a low growl, baring its sharp teeth at you and Miguel, a twisted smile on its face as if it were relishing the upcoming fight.

You exchanged a quick nod with Miguel, both of you charging towards the symbiote with determination and focus.

The symbiote's tendrils lunged towards you and Miguel, you both sprang into action, expertly dodging the slimy projectiles with grace and ease. With lightning-fast reflexes, you reached for a web bomb from your belt and hurled it at the symbiote, watching as it exploded and subdued the dangerous creature.

"Piece of cake," you said, grinning confidently as you swung over to the writhing symbiote, watching as it struggled to break free.

Miguel nodded in approval, fiddling with his watch as he complimented you. "Good job kid." You nodded satisfied with today only for your spider senses to tingle once again, warning you of imminent danger.

Sure enough, you watched in alarm as the symbiote ripped itself free from the webs, its menacing form looming over you once more. You knew that this fight was far from over.

The symbiote's tendrils struck you and Miguel with considerable force, sending you both flying backwards. You struggled to regain your footing, feeling shaken and disoriented from the blow.

"Can't these symbiotes ever give us an easy fight?" you muttered, trying to shake off the dizziness as you got back up.

Miguel quickly sprang into action, instructing you to stay out of the creature's reach and focus on webbing it up. You followed his lead, keeping a safe distance as the symbiote cackled maniacally in response.

Despite your best efforts, the symbiote continued to wreak havoc, easily breaking through your webs and throwing everything it could at you.

You and Miguel dodged and weaved, doing your best to avoid the dangerous attacks while trying to contain the creature.

"Miguel, my web fluid is running low. We need a new game plan," you said with concern in your voice.

Suddenly, a voice called out from behind you, accompanied by an electrifying guitar riff. It was another Spider-Man, the one from this dimension, and he certainly looked the part. You watched in awe as he swung past you, landing with ease and unleashing a powerful strum that made the symbiote scream in agony.

Turning to Miguel, you saw the shock etched on his face, mirroring your own astonishment.

The unfamiliar Spider-Man continued jamming on his guitar, the sound waves overwhelming the symbiote and practically rendering it immobile.

In no time, Miguel sprang into action and quickly captured the weakened creature.

You swung over to the duo, intrigued by your newfound ally.

This Spider-Man was unlike any you had encountered before. His outfit was unconventional, lacking the traditional suit. His mask bore spikes running down the middle mimicking a mohawk. What's more, he exuded a confidence that set him apart from the rest.

"I thought I had wiped out all those bloody things," the stranger spoke in a thick British accent.

"Thanks for saving us," you murmured sweetly, drawing the stranger's attention to you. As he locked eyes with you, both of your spider senses went into overdrive, followed by a captivating scent that made your body feel hot and your head spin.

You struggled to keep your breathing steady, your chest rising and falling as you fought the urge to pounce on the stranger. You couldn't help but panic, wondering why he had such a powerful effect on you.

"Hmm, it looks like we have a lot in common," he said with a light chuckle, drawing closer to you like a magnet.

You swallowed hard, the sound audible as you nervously stammered out, "Y-yeah. I'm Y/n," feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Hobie Brown," he replied in a low, seductive tone, his hand wrapping around yours in a firm grip. Your breaths quickened even more, if that was possible, as a rush of heat flooded your core.

"Nice to meet you, Hobie," you said gently pulling your hand away from his.

"Hobie, huh?" Miguel interrupted as he made his way over to the two of you. "Maybe you'd make a good addition. Why don't you come with us?" he suggested, opening a portal.

Taking advantage of Miguel's distraction, you created some distance between yourself and Hobie. You could feel your self-control slipping, as you wondered if you had the same effect on him.

Hobie spun around to face you and the delicious scent that radiated from him enveloped you once more. You paused, struggling to maintain your composure, before letting out a heavy sigh.

"I don't follow orders, mate," he said. "Care to explain what he's chattin' bout, love?"

You took a deep breath and composed yourself before replying,

"He's inviting you to join the Society of all the Spidermen, Hobie. It's a group of individuals like you, gifted with unique abilities, who work together to defend and protect the multiverse."

As Hobie pondered the invitation, you struggled to maintain your composure and secretly hoped he would decline. Your feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they drew you closer to Hobie, desperate to inhale more of his intoxicating scent that made your head spin.

"We have to leave right now if you're coming," Miguel pressed, flinging a watch to Hobie before disappearing into the portal. Hobie nodded and trailed after Miguel, leaving you to groan and whimper in disappointment before reluctantly stepping into the portal behind them.

Hobie and Miguel were walking ahead of you, trailing behind them. You watched eagerly as Hobie finally removed his mask, revealing a head full of lively hair that sprang out in every direction.

Unfortunately, you couldn't get a clear view of his face from your position behind him, until he turned around and flashed a small smirk in your direction. Your eyes were immediately drawn to his full lips, complete with a lip ring, and then up to the tips of his eyebrows. As you continued to scan his face, you noticed a plethora of piercings, which only added to his stunning appearance. You were completely captivated by how gorgeous he was.

"Uh, Miguel, I'll catch up with you later," you said, your steps slowing down as you continued to stare at Hobie. You couldn't help but inhale deeply, savoring his delicious scent for as long as possible, even as he walked further away from you.

With a deep exhale, you opened a portal and stepped through, arriving in your apartment. You immediately removed your mask, feeling the cool air wash over your face. Despite being back in your own space, Hobie's scent and face were still flooding your mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. You flopped onto your bed and began the task of taking off your skin-tight suit. After peeling it off, you tried your best to get some sleep, but your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Hobie, and you failed miserably at your attempt to rest.

There was something about him that left you utterly desperate. It was a feeling of desperation for his touch, for his hands to explore every inch of your body, for the sensation of his warm skin pressed against yours. His scent alone was enough to drive you wild, a heady aroma that seemed to intoxicate you completely.

A/n: If you liked this comment let me know what should I do in part 2.

[visit-new-york]

The Legacy of the Chrysler Building

As we reflect on the Chrysler Building's storied past and enduring significance, it becomes clear that this architectural masterpiece is more than just a building—it's a living testament to the spirit of human ingenuity and creativity. Its legacy extends far beyond its physical presence, leaving an indelible mark on the cultural landscape of New York City and the world.

The Chrysler Building has not only inspired countless architects, artists, and dreamers but has also shaped the way we perceive skyscrapers and cityscapes. Its iconic design has become a touchstone for Art Deco enthusiasts and a symbol of the Roaring Twenties. It continues to serve as a source of inspiration for filmmakers, writers, and photographers, who seek to capture its unique beauty and timeless elegance.

In a rapidly changing world, the Chrysler Building remains an anchor, a reminder of the enduring power of architectural innovation to captivate the human imagination. It stands as a beacon of hope and ambition, reminding us that even in the face of challenges and uncertainties, we can build something extraordinary that transcends time and place.

The Chrysler Building's ability to grab the attention of both residents and visitors to New York City is a testament to its timeless allure. Its shimmering spire, intricate ornamentation, and rich history continue to captivate the hearts and minds of all who encounter it. It stands as a symbol of human achievement and ambition, a reminder that the pursuit of beauty, excellence, and innovation can create enduring masterpieces.

So, the next time you find yourself in the shadow of the Chrysler Building, take a moment to look up and marvel at its splendor. Let its timeless elegance and rich history inspire you to reach for the sky in your own endeavors. The Chrysler Building is not just a part of New York City's skyline; it's a part of the city's soul, a shining example of what can be achieved when dreams and determination collide. It's a symbol of the past, present, and future—a true architectural treasure that will continue to capture the attention and admiration of generations to come.

<Previous page  - Chrysler Building -  Next page>

[davidchiemcore]

its kagepro day so im gonna try to assign lyrics to each drdt character! some of these are more stretches than others but i went through all of the music route songs to find what i felt were the best fits

teruko: "She, however, had disappeared. Her warm words, repeated over and over, easily turned to hatred in my brain" Dead and Seek

xander: "So what do you think of this heat, and our values that just so happen to meet? 'Not so bad, is it?' When we open our eyes, and clasp our hands…" Children Record

charles: "With a hardened heart, I resign to loneliness, living out my days seeing only 'things'" Imagination Forest

ace: "Just as it came to my ears, I heard; 'you want to survive, yes?' Waving over the wriggling world, the skyscrapers seemed to tremble, this voice seemed unmistakable; it was my own, which I tired of hearing" Headphone Actor

arei: "'I'm so lonely' although I said it, I won't ever change. I'm so disgusted by myself, that I can't help but sneer" Yobanashi Decieve

rose: "The meanings and dreams and circumstances cobbled together make a head sunk in endless thoughts" Konoha's State of the World

hu: "With fear in their eyes, they cry 'I'm just a monster' So I tell them, 'That's not true at all, red is the color of a hero, so there's no need to be afraid'" Ayano's Theory of Happiness

eden: "Boys and girls, face forwards, finding hope in only the shimmering heat. Recall, and bring to words, your miraculous encounters and farewells…" Children Record

levi: "The alarm that starts ringing says to the lonely me: 'you're a cold hearted fool'" Transparent Answer

arturo: "The dogwood in the garden was so beautiful I couldn't help but look at it enviously. In contrast, I'm such a hopeless case" Never Lost Word

min: "If you're asking about my results, well, they're fine, I guess. On the recycled paper was a perfect 100% score. While grinning shyly, you sat down on the chair next to me, you, the one with the low grade" Transparent Answer

david: "It's like torture, but i cant say so- I'm drowned in cheering, but... 'Am I really that good?' I'm just a bore - I don't get it!" Kisaragi Attention

veronika: "A lifetime of anxiety awaits you tomorrow 'Now, now, this can't really be it?' If you, swaying, etch the beat into your mind you'll see that this isn't so bad" Mekakushi Code

j: "My face is like an open book, for some reason I get so nervous that even my voice squeaked! What's wrong with me?! This is pissing me off! I'm such a fool" Yuukei Yesterday

whit: "If I'm wishing for a dream that can't come true. then I'll embrace this blurry past" Lost Time Memory

nico: "There was a puppy, rain-soaked like me and i begged it to understand me. I embraced it and said 'you wont bully me right? Let's become friends without words' " Shounen Brave

[crystal-cloudzz]

sbg headcanons (part 1/2)

ashlyn 🎧💚

-shes only cut her hair once, she hated it

-shes used to want to do a sport, but in one class, she got introduced to ballet and fell in love with it

-i don't know why but I have a strong feeling she'd love apple, grape and raspberry flavoured stuff

-every time when she was younger and saw a dog she begged the owner for it (they said no)

-she already has lots of freckles. She gets even more in sunlight

-shes a beach and mountain girl

Aiden 🔪💛

-has depression but got very good at hiding it

-used to sh

-has insomnia

-sprayed chemicals into eyes once by accident

-hes an avid great wall of china Eiffel tower burg khalifa skyscraper tree climber, he climbs to the peak then jumps off

-his parents keep forgetting his birthday, and his dad even keeps forgetting his name (he calls him aaron)

-once had a really good friend then moved

-hes the type to suggest to Netflix and chill then put on how to train your dragon 3 and pass you 7 tubs of chocolate ice cream then says "eat up :D" with a creepy grin

-has a fear of being left alone

-used to be sucidal

-hes a smileycore bitch, like with the drugs aspect and everything

-"oh it doesn't hurt, I'm fine" *arm literally snapped in half, twisted 360 degrees behind his back

-cant cook for shit. Not even 5 minute noodles are safe

-very self destructive

-hin dying his hair is a coping mechanism

-has a bad relationship with his parents (mainly his dad)

-his latest b-day party was when he was 5

-attention deprived

-touch starved

-once add raw meat to get attention (it worked, he never did it again afterwards)

Ben 🎤🤎

-trans male

-sofia the first (that's it. That's all I'm saying)

-has a way with animals, it's like he's telepathic with them

-no but he's actually Sofia the first I have so much proof for it I have an entire au for it

-cant cook either, can only bake

-makes the best cakes and you can't convince me otherwise

-hes the reason Aiden bounces off walls all the time

-always one of the last to be found at hide and seek (except when Lily's playing. Then he goes easy on her)

Oh btw Aiden and Tyler are my favourites if you couldn't tell by the abundance of Aiden hcs

[docochocart]

DOCORONPA CAST(6/16)

ULTIMATE DAREDEVIL

Born into a rural midwestern town, Daredevil was starved of entertainment from birth. Being raised an only child with the nearest households being over a mile away, loneliness and boredom were the defining traits of his childhood.

That was, until the accident.

During his middle school years, Daredevil's family would get into a brutal car crash, seriously injuring both of his parents. Strangely, Daredevil was completely unharmed in the accident.

While most children his age would be traumatized by such an event, Daredevil was completely enthralled by the thrill of it. So much so, that afterward he would seek out similar situations in the future.

For the next couple years, he would take on more and more daring spectacles, often completely alone. Nearly any stunt that he took on would fail miserably and for anybody else would mean certain death, but Daredevil was simply build different.

After every stunt he attempted and failed, he would only be left with minor scratches and bruising. As his cockiness grew with each excursion, so did the danger of the stunts. And after receiving his driver's license, he'd take the spectacle to the public.

It wouldn't take long for him to catch the masses attention, as a video his 3rd failed tightrope walk between skyscrapers would go viral overnight. Audiences were amazed by the boy's ability to defy death, and soon he would have the academy's attention as well.

The invitation to audition for Hope's Peak University is the best news Daredevil had ever received. He'd assumed he'd be spending the rest of his life performing stunts for free, but with Hope's Peak's approval, he could make a moderate salary for risking his bodily autonomy!

Do you think he'll make it?

[stratossphere]

tennessee whiskey. | j.k

johnny’s a little drunk, and when johnny gets drunk, he gets messy. in more ways than one.

warnings: drinking all around, hint of weed and cocaine use, johnny and reader are broken up, slight relationship angst, fluff at the end

word count: 5.6k

taglist (let me know if you want to be added!) @asskickedbygirl

— —

You were making mistakes tonight. You had realized it as soon as you’d arrived at the bar everyone was holed up in for the night, because the first sighed you’d laid eyes on upon entering was Johnny Knoxville himself up on the bar with no shirt on doing push-ups. You’d been the last one to get there due to the fact that you’d been working until late, and you could tell that they had clearly started the drinking (and probably drugs, by the looks of it) without you.

"Y/n! I was starting to think you weren't even coming anymore!" Ehren was the one to intercept you when you passed a couple making out near the door, and you smiled as you watched him stumble over someone's foot on the way over and almost land at your feet before catching his balance. "Dude. Everyone is like, super trashed."

"I can see that. I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow, so might as well catch up." You said, shrugging and stepping around him to aim in the direction of the bar before motioning for him to follow behind you. You were aiming on avoiding your attention-seeking ex-boyfriend, so you headed for the opposite corner of the bar, where you could see Bam and Pontius with a deck of cards.

"Party's here." Ehren announced you to the both of them as you rounded to their side, drawing Bam's intense concentration as he attempted to set a card on top of the card tower they were actually doing a decent job of building up.

"Well good evening, madame. You are very late to the party." Pontius said, motioning to a stool with Ehren's jacket thrown over it and an empty one beside it. "Seats are open for viewing on what is going to be the world's largest card tower."

"Don't mind if I do." You said, grinning as you sat down next to Bam and watched him gently place his card. He let out a silent cheer to himself when the card tower remained, fist pumping in the air and almost hitting you in the shoulder in the process.

"Card skyscraper, man. 'Tower' doesn't mean jack shit." He corrected Chris, pointing a finger at him before turning to you and motioning to the pile of suspiciously filled pint cups that was sitting next to his elbow. "These are all liquor bombs, if you're interested."

Liquor bombs were just mixing every liquor and beer that they could get their hands on into one glass, and was a sure shot into starting a night that you wouldn't remember. It was a dangerous game, and consuming two pint glasses of it had left Ryan on his ass for a day and a half. You took a glass anyway.

"You better not have done anything gross to these. I'm not in the mood to drink anyone's jizz right now." You sighed, taking a sip out of the glass and immediately coughing when a horrific blackout-inducing blend of liquids burned their way down your throat.

"There's absinthe and a lot of tequila in there." Ehren snickered, motioning to the Absinthe bottle that was on the shelf closest across the bar from him. You winced, shivering as you tried to keep the sip down. Bam snickered at your earlier statement.

"I thought about it. But I thought you'd rather drink someone's jizz the old-fashioned way." When you shot him a sour look at his statement, he motioned over to Johnny, who had stopped his push-up marathon but was now leaning heavily over the bar as he talked to the bartender. "He sure as hell wants you to. He's like, trying to auction himself off to you, dude."

"Ugh. Please don't start." You groaned, taking another large sip of your liquor bomb at the introduction of Johnny as a conversation topic. This happened every time you all got together and Johnny was acting like...Johnny, but you never liked it regardless. "He could be completely naked and three inches from me for all the fucks I give. I'm not interested in...all of that."

"Yeah, but you say that every time. And then all of a sudden he's your shining star all over again." Ehren pointed out critically, leaning back in his seat slightly to get a look at whatever Johnny was doing. You had your back turned so you couldn't see, but you assumed it was something even stupider than what he had started out with.

"Hey. Give her some credit. She's been Knoxville-free for three months. That's your longest streak yet." Chris high-fived you for your not-so-amazing feat, but you took the praise regardless, grinning despite Bam's scoff of disbelief right in your ear.

"Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts." He muttered, wincing when you elbowed him. He was supposed to be your number one supporter, and yet somehow he always seemed to be the one doubting you. "By the way, here's your night's worth."

You looked to him in surprise as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of Menthol smooths out of his pocket and popping it open only to reveal that it was filled with rolled joints. A huge grin quickly spread onto your face, and you snatched the box out of his hand before he had even gotten the chance to shut it again.

"You're the best. I thought I was going to have to rob Steve." You said happily, slipping the pack into your jacket pocket and silently making a mental note to take a smoke break outside in the next few minutes. "Speaking of. Is he here?"

"Uh, yeah. He's somewhere. I think he's in the bathroom getting his sinuses dusted." Pontius motioned to the bathroom behind him, a knowing grin on his face. You knew that was more than likely very true, so you didn't do any further investigating, instead focusing on the card tower.

"So, are you turning this into a skyscraper or what? Because it looks like shit right now." You observed, motioning to the sorry excuse for a card tower on the bar between them. Bam was letting out an irritated groan before you had even finished speaking, and he immediately picked the deck of cards back up.

"We're getting there, asshole! Drink your fucking liquor bomb and shut up." He snapped, kicking your bar stool further away from him in what you assumed was an attempt to keep you from disturbing him in any way as he started to concentrate on laying his next card.

"Yo. Y/n. I got a bet for you." Suddenly, you felt a hand clap down on your shoulder, and you didn't even have to look back to recognize Ryan Dunn's voice. However, you frowned, because bets and any of the Jackass crew never went well together, and Ryan happened to be one of the worst. You turned around to see him standing behind you with a hat you recognized to be Dave’s on his head backwards.

"Is it gonna be bad? Because I'm not even drunk yet, and I'm kind of tired." You asked with a grimace, holding up your barely-touched liquor bomb for proof as he shouldered through you and Bam to grab a stool for himself.

"I bet you can't make Knoxville cry by the end of the night." He announced his bet proudly, and you heard a crowd of snickers from everyone that was sitting around you. For a second you mentally face-palmed because of course it was some dumbass shit like this, but then you just scoffed.

"That is so fucking easy. He's like, the world's sloppiest drunk." You boasted. You couldn't count how many times you’d left the bar together with his face buried in your neck and his tears leaking down onto the collar of your shirt past three in the morning. You then turned back to look over at the bar, and sighed when you saw Johnny still talking loudly to the bartender as he swayed on his feet despite the heavy support of the bar. "Case in point. Look at that fucker."

"Psh. He's not even that drunk. Send him over one of the liquor bombs." Pontius encouraged, motioning to your collection of different ominously colored glasses that you all were harboring on your portion of the bar.

"I don't want to bring it to him." You shook your head, putting your hands up as you verbally stepped out of interacting with Johnny so soon. If you were going to make him cry, he was going to have to come to you. Which really wasn't as difficult as it sounded, considering he usually ended up doing so once he'd had a few good shots in him.

"Well I don't want to talk to him. He's going to be all weird and try to arm wrestle me." Chris scoffed, also stepping back and leaving both Bam and Ehren up for takers. Bam wrinkled his nose, and then Ehren let out a dramatic sigh.

"Fine. I'll do it. But I'm saying that Y/n sent it over so that he gets the idea." He grumbled, reaching over your shoulder to grab a glass that you had specifically avoided when choosing your drink due to the deep green color it possessed. You didn't even want to think about what was inside of that. You didn't exactly want him to say that it was directly from you, but you knew that it was a smart idea in order to lure Johnny in your direction, so you let it slide.

Johnny threw an arm around Ehren's shoulders the second that he was in reaching point, and you, Bam, Ryan, and Pontius all watched as Ehren attempted not to spill the drink upon handing it over to Johnny. You tensed up when Ehren spoke, and then you watched Johnny's eyes search until they found you from across the bar. His eyebrows raised slightly, and when you motioned for him to drink, you watched as he downed the entire thing in one go.

Ehren looked as disturbed as you felt when he looked back at you all, and he muttered something to Johnny before Johnny was getting up on unsteady legs and following him towards you. Bam let out yet another whine.

"Ugh, he didn't say he was bringing him over here. I don't want to do arm wrestling either." He complained, dropping his head onto your shoulder dramatically as if he was the one that was tasked with making Knoxville cry. You really had never met someone who complained as much as Bam did.

"Get off. You have to talk to him before I do. Just for that." You shoved his head away from you, knowing that even that gesture would put Johnny in a drunken bad mood that you really didn't want to deal with.

"Are you guys really arguing over having to interact with Knoxville? Of all people?" Ryan rolled his eyes, clapping both of you on the shoulder as he got up to intercept your inebriated ex. "I'll talk to him, you fucking pussies."

You and Bam both looked at each other with solidarity in the form of a 'I'm not a pussy' pout, but weren't given much time to discuss the topic due to the fact that Johnny was basically stepping on Ehren's heels as he arrived at your portion of the bar.

"You guys are making liquor bombs, and you didn't even invite me over?" He scoffed loudly as he stepped around you, his arm narrowly missing your head as he reached over you to get another glass. Ryan offered Johnny his stool, which he accepted gladly but almost missed when sitting down.

"We're building a card tower. Busy." Ryan supplied, motioning to said card tower, which had received two more cards from Pontius since you’d last looked. Bam put out an arm that gently held Johnny away from the bar, because it was easy to tell that if he got too close, the card tower was going to cease to exist.

"Don't drink too many of those, man. We're going for press tomorrow." Bam chuckled as he watched Johnny swallow down his glass like a man on a mission. If you weren’t so hellbent on keeping yourself out of his direct attention, you would've also voiced your concerns. But you were tasked with making him cry, not making him smart, so you stayed out of it.

"If anyone else is interested in dusting their sinuses, Steve-O's offering in the bathroom." Johnny was clearly not interested in the card tower, and he motioned vaguely towards the direction of the bathrooms as he quoted Pontius exactly on what your friend was spending his night doing. As if on cue, Johnny also sniffed and wiped his nose, and suddenly you made the connection.

"You bumped?" You asked in surprise, not able to help yourself from commenting. Johnny wasn't really one that leaned towards hard drugs hardly ever, and it was actually rare that you had even been able to convince him to smoke weed with you, so you really couldn't contain your shock. His eyes turned to you ridiculously slowly, as if you had just committed a war crime by speaking to him.

"Yeah, Y/n. I'm an adult." In a moment of perfect acting, he was able to completely mimic a sober, stressed out Johnny when he was asked if he was about to go have his fourth cigarette in an hour. You immediately sucked in my cheek and bit down to prevent yourself from answering with just as much snark.

"Y/n, weren't you going to go out and smoke?" Bam asked, not even looking over at you as he placed a card even with Chris' very carefully, but effectively saving you nonetheless. You glanced down at the cigarette box peaking out of your jacket pocket, and let out a soft sigh.

"Yeah, man. Any of you are welcome to join." Except for you, Knoxville. You slid off of your bar stool, silently wishing that smoking weed in public places was normal so that you didn't have to go stand outside of a shady bar in the dark by yourself late at night. You weren’t really in the mood to get catcalled by grimy men who had just finished throwing up in the dumpster down the alley.

Despite your offer, you found yourself making your escape on your own, the clear sight of Johnny's eyes on you as you slid around people to get to the front door. You weren’t sure if everyone was there, but you didn't run into anyone you knew before you had made it outside to the thankfully empty bar front.

Unfortunately for you, just as you were starting to think that you had gotten a break, you promptly realized that you didn't have a lighter. You’d come in the clothes you’d worn to work, and you obviously weren’t lighting up in front of everyone at work.

And then, just as you were getting ready to head back inside and bum a lighter off of someone, thinking that your situation couldn't get any worse, someone busted through the doors and onto the sidewalk a couple feet away from you before you could even move in that same direction. You glanced to the side to see if it was someone who looked like they had a lighter, only to see someone who you knew absolutely had a lighter.

"You said anyone!" Johnny must've seen the disapproving stare on your face when you spotted him, and he immediately fumbled in his pocket before fishing out a lighter and holding it out to you. "Just a couple hits, Y/n/n!"

"Don't call me that." You snatched the lighter out of his hand, pulling one of the joints out of your box and sticking it between your lips. It was kind of sloppily done, which meant that Bam had rolled them himself instead of Ryan, who usually did them for you, but the sentiment was there, so it didn't bother you. Once you had the joint lit, you took a long drag, inhaling until you couldn't anymore and then wincing when you felt the burn rising in your throat.

"Here." Johnny's voice drew your attention back to him, and you looked down at the glass he was holding out to you. It was his liquor bomb, which was almost gone by this point, and the glass looked grimy like his fingers and mouth had been all over it. You shook your head as you cleared my throat a couple times and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke.

"I'm fine." You muttered, taking a couple steps forward and then sitting down on the curb. "You know, you're gonna crash like fucking hell tomorrow if you keep it up tonight."

Okay. You could only keep your concern to yourself for so long. And everyone else was inside, so it was fine. It's not like you were asking him to tongue you down.

"I know." He didn't really sound like he cared. You could feel his presence from where he had moved to stand right next to you, and there was black converse in the corner of your vision, but you didn't look at him. He cleared his throat. "I'm bleeding."

Sometimes, you really wondered how you had ever seen the appeal of basically becoming the full-time babysitter of the most accident-prone person you had ever met in your entire life. You knew his looks had a certain deciding factor, but not even that could top the stress of bandaging injuries and fixing messes left and right.

"What?" You turned back to look at him in surprise, because obviously you couldn't ignore that, only to see him holding out his scarlet-soaked hand. Your eyes widened considerably, and you shot into standing position. "What the hell? Where is it coming from?"

"I hit my head on the bar." He looked mostly unbothered, his eyes unfocused as he looked for somewhere to wipe his hand off. You stopped him before he could press the palm of his hand to his pants, holding his hand away as you mentally looked for the strength to deal with your piece of shit ex boyfriend.

"Bend down." You sighed, waiting until he had done so before moving to stand on the curb so that you had leverage and could inspect his head. He indeed was bleeding from his scalp, close to his hairline where blood was close to pooling down onto his forehead. It didn't look serious, and he didn't seem to be in any pain, but head injuries always bled a lot, and he needed to be cleaned up. You let out a dramatically irritated sigh. "Finish your drink and come inside so that I can clean off the blood."

You were supposed to be keeping your distance. You had promised yourself when you’d forcibly pushed him out of your apartment three months prior that it would be your last breakup. It would be your last breakup, and there would be no next makeup. But, despite that promise, he always seemed to find a way to weasel his way into your daily life, and you found yourself taking care of him even more than you had when you were dating him. You hated yourself every time you did it, but you couldn't really say no. And you were together more than you were apart due to your friend group, so you didn’t really have an option.

You got a couple of questioning stares when you passed everyone at the bar, and you just shook your head irritably at Bam when you grabbed another liquor bomb on your way towards the bathroom. The blood was now on Johnny's forehead, so it wasn't exactly a secret what you were dragging him away to do, but no one else really seemed to care about that.

The men's bathroom was locked, which you kind of anticipated because you knew exactly who was in there, but you really didn't want to converse with Steve-O in his current state, so you just pulled Johnny right into the open single-stall women's bathroom and locked the door behind the both of you.

"Drink up." You handed him the liquor bomb, leaving him to settle as you turned around to collect paper towels and wet some of them. You were going to enlist a medic to just start following him around so that you didn't need to spend your nights where you were supposed to be having fun patching him up when he inevitably let the liquor hit. You knew giving him more liquor probably wasn't the smartest idea, but it would increase your chances of him leaving you alone, and it would also increase the chances of him crying. Like you said; sloppy drunk.

"You're such a sweetheart, you know that? I miss you." Johnny rambled, and you glanced over momentarily to see him swaying around before giving up and just collapsing down on the closed toilet lid. Your shook your head as you turned towards him with an arsenal of paper towels.

"No, you don't. You're drunk as fuck." You reminded him as you pressed a damp paper towel to his head, your free hand cupping his head just under his ear to keep him from moving around. You could both see and feel him leaning into your touch the way he always did, but you were trying your best to ignore it.

"I don't care. I always miss you." He pouted as he took a smaller sip of his new liquor bomb, wincing as you wiped the blood away from his cut and from his forehead. You fought the urge to scoff, instead settling for just frowning.

"Stop upsetting yourself." You said softly, tilting his head forward slightly so that you could see his cut better. You were hyper aware of the fact that the current position of his head allowed him to look directly down your shirt, and you could tell he was in fact utilizing that advantage. You rolled your eyes but held my tongue on the subject. "You know, doing push-ups on the bar isn't going to get you the attention that you want."

"Why not?" He sounded genuinely surprised by your breaking news. You took a deep breath, knowing that he was sensitive under the influence of alcohol and that you really didn't want him to cry before you had Ryan there to witness your victory.

"Because it's stupid. Nobody gives a fuck about it." Clearly you didn't take a deep enough breath, because your words came out a lot harsher than you intended, and that immediately reflected on his face. You winced. "I meant…you don't need to do push-ups on the bar to get m–everyone's attention. You're welcome to join our card tower party."

"Okay." Johnny's voice had softened considerably, and when you relaxed your hand where you had been holding his head down, his eyes didn't move from the floor. You patted his scalp and forehead dry, making sure that he wasn't bleeding anymore before you gently tilted his chin so that he was forced to look at you.

"Are you going to be okay?" You asked gently, letting yourself break for a moment in an attempt to cure his pouting. His hand drifted up to touch the cut you had just finished cleaning before he nodded hesitantly.

"I'm gonna finish this." He said, mostly to himself as he held up his glass to you like he was showing off how much was left. You coaxed him into getting up so that you could wash his still-bloody hand off in the sink, allowing him to continue to drink as you did so. He watched you in complete silence between drinks.

"Don't do any more coke. Steve laces his with a bunch of other shit that you don't need." You said after a second of silence, your thought prompted by the sound of Steve-O’s laugh echoing through the shared bathroom wall.

"Okay." He said again, nodding obediently as you scrubbed his hand with yours under the lukewarm water from the bathroom sink. If you were together, Johnny would've been pressed up behind you this entire time, but thankfully he was keeping his distance now, standing as far away from you as he could get while still staring at where you were cleaning his hand in the sink with both of yours. You knew he could probably wash his own hand, but whatever.

Finally, once you had gotten him completely cleaned up, dried off, and filled with liquor, the both of you emerged from the bathroom, heading in the direction of where you could see a much-larger card tower before you re-joined the group.

"Did you make him cry yet?" Ryan asked in your ear as Johnny occupied himself with marveling over the card tower, crossing his arms as he narrowed his eyes at you. "Or did you skip straight to fucking?"

"Oh, fuck off. I was sitting out there, and he literally let me get one hit in before he came out with his head bleeding." You complained, wishing that you’d just gone home instead of hauling your ass out to a bar where all of your friends were trashed and you weren’t. "And he almost did. But I've got a finishing move, so just hold your damn horses."

"Finishing move? That's the lamest shit I've ever heard." Bam scoffed, leaning backwards into you so that he could overhear your conversation but not alert Johnny at the same time. You elbowed him, watching as Johnny gulped down the last of his third liquor bomb. Yeah. He was definitely going to become a mess in the next ten minutes.

"Let me work my magic in peace, asshole." You snapped, glancing at Johnny one more time before turning back to Ryan. "Can you go put 'Tennessee Whiskey' on the jukebox? George Jones version."

A long time ago, Johnny had promised you that Tennessee Whiskey was 'your song'. You think it was just mostly because he loved that song, and it reminded him of home, but he made you dance with him every time he heard it. Obviously you didn't do that anymore, but this was different. It was a bet, and he was already drunk. You wouldn't have to dance with him for long.

"Aw, dude. I totally forgot about that." Bam snickered as Ryan disappeared to do your bidding, taking a sip of his beer as he watched Johnny beg Chris to let him put a card on. You nodded, grinning and sitting back down next to him.

"But once you see him crying, you have to pull me out, because I don't want to keep dancing with him. I'm gonna end up sleeping with him if we dance for too long." You ordered, shooting him a warning look. You hadn't smoked much, but the liquor bomb was slowly getting to you, and you knew that your common sense was ebbing away more and more by the minute.

"You know, I don't understand why you don't just throw in the towel and fuck him again. It's not like either of you aren't still cock-in-hand for each other." Bam sighed, shaking his head like Johnny’s and your separation physically pained him. You threw a hand in the air, letting out an indignant noise.

"We've discussed this. He won't nut up and commit, so I kicked his ass to the curb. You don't drag trash back into your house after you've brought it out, Brandon." You said dryly, using his government name to stress the significance of your breakup.

"Jesus. Don't sugarcoat it." Somehow, Johnny had intercepted that part of the conversation, and was suddenly facing the both of you as he blinked sloppily at your harsh symbolism. He looked like shit, and you silently thanked heaven above that he'd plowed through every single one of the liquor bombs that had been on the table, because you really weren’t excited to see the aftermath of what would be if he had another glass. You waved him off.

"Fuck off." You said dismissively, praying that Ryan's jukebox selection would kick in faster so that you wouldn’t have to concern yourself with an argument before you finished the task at hand. He looked like he was going to say something that you definitely wouldn't have liked, but just in time, you heard the beginning of George John's voice. His eyes immediately clicked in recognition, and his glass slammed on the counter.

"You're joking." He said dramatically, reaching out and pulling on your hand. "Y/n." Gasping out your name like a plea for you to let him pull you along towards the wider part of the bar, his eyes were practically begging. You made a face.

"PJ–" You started, pretending like you were going to say no just to fuck with him a little bit so that it didn't seem like someone had picked the song on purpose. He yanked your hand gently and repeatedly.

"Please! Just for a little bit! I’ll never ask you for anything again!" He whined, pulling you hard enough to where you were forced to stand up. You turned back and smirked at Bam before you sighed and gave him the OK to drag you along, immediately being pulled away from the group and towards an open space in the middle of groups of people.

"Do not try anything." You warned as Johnny wrapped his arms low around your waist, a beaming grin on his face as he started to sway you back and forth to the music. George John's version was his favorite, and you could already hear him humming along.

"Shh. Just listen to the music." And before you could even respond, he had his face dropped down into your neck, and there was no longer any space between you as his arms tightened their grip around your waist. You sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair the way you knew he liked. He was now humming gently in your ear, and you could hear the crack in his voice from too many cigarettes as he sang.

God, you were going soft. How could you not? He was wrapped tightly around you, and he was humming the same song that he always hummed when he was showering in the morning. Plus, just as Bam had so eloquently put, you really were still ‘dick-in-hand for him’, and you would’ve been lying to yourself had you said you didn’t still love him. You were trying to force yourself not to, but so far it had been a failed attempt.

"This is still our song." Johnny mumbled, and in a moment of small victory, you realized you could hear the telltale shake in his voice. Yep. Three liquor bombs were definitely triggering the water works. You kept your fingers in his hair, swaying him around and rubbing his shoulder with the hand that was rested over it.

"I know." You said softly, enjoying yourself for a moment as you held Johnny to the soft sounds of George John's voice. To give yourself some credit, you weren’t lying. Even if you two never ended up back together again, you would still picture his face and hear his voice every time you heard this song. He had ingrained it into your brain. He sniffled.

"I miss you." He repeated what he'd said in the bathroom, and this time there was so much emotion in his voice that you were really starting to believe him. “I miss you so goddamn much. I can’t live without you, babydoll.”

You leaned back, forcing his face out of your neck, only to confirm that he was in fact crying. His eyes were rimmed with red, and he looked like a kicked, admittedly drunk puppy. You glanced back at Ryan, who was watching the both of you intently, and tipped your head to the side so that he could get a perfect view of a crying Johnny Knoxville for proof. You saw him laugh, and then promptly realized that Bam, your rescue agent, was nowhere to be seen. Perfect. You were going to have to stay.

"You'll be okay." You consoled, resting your hand on his arm where his hand was still on your hip. His skin was warm despite the chill in the bar, and you silently wondered where exactly his shirt had ended up. He shook his head adamantly.

"No, I won't. I need you." He whined, his face suddenly noticeably closer to yours than it had been a couple of seconds before. You felt your heart ache, and the liquor inside of you screaming to wrap him up in your arms and never let him go again. God fucking damn it.

Liquor always overpowered common sense. It was a well-known fact, and it was something that you had to accept if you planned on drinking. That's why, despite your best intentions, you slid your hand up to his neck and pulled him down, pressing your lips to his as you wiped the tears from his eyes. There had never been a time where you’d danced to 'your song' and hadn't made out, and you weren’t about to spoil a tradition. You knew that everyone else was definitely watching, and that you were going to be facing a heaping pile of liquid regrets in the morning, but at that moment you couldn't find it inside of you to care. You loved him too goddamn much.

“PJ, why don’t I take you back outside so you can get a little fresh air.” You could still hear him sniffling and despite you wiping his eyes, the tears were still coming, so you broke away to motion towards the side door. Johnny shook his head adamantly, his arms tightening around you and his forehead dropping against yours.

“No. Just wanna stay here and dance with you.” He mumbled, pressing another kiss to your lips and then swaying you back and forth with his cheek pressed against yours. “Stay with me, okay sweetheart?”

“Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want.”

[lesfir]

This is the kind of post that become a flight of thought and reasoning with a bit of hc. The Break Up with Lord Astarion Like: Asc Astsrion dickpic photo of a drunk ex - behavior nah well if drunk... still nah+meh Astarion has centuries of seduction experience. His brains aren't so smooth as to send Tav a "dickpic" in hopes of attention and success. He'll come up with a really nice and neat plan to get Tav to come to him on their own. He's got time. It's AU meme modernity ofc. It's hard to work. Without context, Astarion loses a lot. The medieval, vampirism and slavery is a big context. Depends on how painful it was. Let's say it went okay, a little uncomfortable, but normal. In modern times, if Tav was kind, he'd be something charitable, showy. For Tav and good for building influence, too. For love of the people. If Tav was more evil. He'd be doing something extravagant, still logical. Looking like a fool is not a best seduction tactic. For a good Tav, he'd create parks in the city, and support the arts, charities. For the evil Tav, he would seek influence in closed circles so that those she knows about (admires) would talk about him and his deeds like new skyscraper-hotels with casinos. In any field he would quickly become famous: a beautiful man with refined taste. Speaking of the Middle Ages, in Faerun. Depends on what Tav is interested in, it's magic - the best relics from around the world in Baldur's Gate. New opportunities for mages from all over Faerun. Come to Baldur's Gate. Warfare - don't even ask. Fella will climb into any dragon lair on his own to get to impress. (And have some fun). Astarion despite having goals, would quite enjoy and discover new things in the world. In general, he would get his way. I don't think it's even canonically obsessive, that you can't get off once, like a frenzy, nah.

He'd remember his personal plans, he'd party a lot, he'd be sad sometimes that Tav couldn't share the fun with him. Eventually he was able to taste the food again. There was so much around that he couldn't for 200 years. Seriously he would eat 10 kinds of desserts and enjoy them, forgetting everything. I prefer it when Tav loves everything and shares eternity, pleasures and decadence, the line of play. In this line-breakup I'm more interested in the “partners in crime” that Lord Astarion suggests. That's the fun line of the game.

Here, if Tav friendly agrees, he definitely:

Kinda Friendship Zone. But Astarion is ok with it.

-- Everyone on the Sword Coast thinks they're having an affair. -- He very often emphasized in the beginning that Tav was his friend, like a little poke. But he stopped doing that when Tav returned the favor. -- Astarion feels the need to touch Tav's hand. In general, touching Tav makes him feel better. This Tav is also tactile, she needs to touch someone she likes, someone she is friends with. -- That Tav is a druid. She turns into a frog if Astarion goes too far. And starts croaking. A thing that makes him angry, sad and happy. -- Astarion crosses the lines of edgy flirting while dancing. -- Sometimes Astarion thinks dark thoughts, but he always just thinks them. He has time. To lose her smile is to be a fool. -- He always sulks for about three days when their temprs clash. But that doesn't happen very often. This Tav is as calm as a toad in the sun. -- Surprisingly. He was so greedy for her time, literally, but he'd only gently invite her to join him - for a party, a walk, on a ship to Calimport. Tav had said no a few times. Needing to keep her distance, not to spoil the greedy dragon. And he'd just go like a cat and she'd be bored while he got the fun of traveling. He brought back souvenirs. But she would have liked to see his smile the first time he looked at this town. -- No friend in the Realms gets gifts like Tav. -- His legions of crows are on duty outside her house. Tav didn't mind, she didn't have the best opinion of the world anyway. They were showing up together, these rumors... who need to prick him, will prick her. -- At sunset they often walk together in the parks in the Upper City.

[adore-laur]

JOYRIDE

— corruption in tokyo brings two partners together again to seek retribution while also fulfilling their desires🚦

ハリー

Midnight in Tokyo. 

The city transforms into a neon jungle once the moon takes the stage. Illusionary indigo and hot pink advertisements scale the sides of skyscrapers, their vibrant pixels reflecting off the slick thoroughfares bestrewed with puddles. Cosmopolitan emporiums attract visitors like clusters of moths drawn to a flame, ranging from luxury retail stores to vintage boutiques that line the sidewalks. Many diverse eateries sit snugly in the passageways—the limited seating is where conversations are struck with writers and poets alike. Whimsical art sculptures placed in hidden spots showcase Japanese culture, and the expressive pieces greet tourists from around the world. 

It's an urban utopia straight out of a futuristic fantasy. 

Digging deeper into the complex metropolis, right in the heart of the infamous Kabukicho District, is where nightlife is most vivacious. Foreigners flock to clubs and bars for ritzy entertainment and exuberant thrills. Alleyways conceal doorways to more private establishments, their explicit thresholds exposed by flickering arrows that guide those who dare to enter. It's sinfully atmospheric, with the smell of smoke and sex lingering past the brick walls lit by dangling paper lanterns. 

The vicinity is two sides of the same coin. In the daytime, families wander through a maze of honorable restaurants and hotels, but at night, the devil comes out to play. Risqué signs lead to unlawful pleasure. Curtains cover hostess clubs of endless inebriation. Intimate shops are out in the open to pique the interest of innocents. 

However, on this rainy November night, Harry Styles seeks only one unholy cove. He doesn't need to be lured into it by silhouetted street hawkers. Ignoring them is easy when the red light just around the corner holds his true desire. 

As his polished dress shoes clack against the wet pavement, a black umbrella looming over his head, he fishes into his trouser pocket to snag a piece of chewing gum. He unwraps the aluminum, pops the green gum into his mouth, folds the rubbery substance using his tongue, stretches it between his two front teeth, and then bites down on it with his back molars. A refreshing burst of spearmint hits the back of his throat, crisp and cool. He begins whistling a catchy tune he heard on the metro subway the other day, the trill echoing off the narrow walls surrounding him. The new graffiti on them catches his attention. Considering the city strictly prohibits street art, it's a rare find, so he admires the esoteric visuals before they're removed by patrolling police. 

Taking a sharp left, the top of Harry's shadow reaches his destination before he does. He stops in his tracks and breathes in the hazy air. Smoke seeps under the rusted garage door, and the muffled bass coming from inside is a straight injection into his veins. The Japanese script, emboldened by neon red, spells out the name of the strip club. 

ジョイライド 

JOYRIDE 

Guarded by a towering man in a black suit and maroon tie, it's the only barrier left. Luckily, Harry is well-versed when it comes to sneaking into elite establishments. He shakes his umbrella out, the droplets creating ripples in the asphalt pools beneath his feet. A step under the hipped awning saves his expensive clothing from becoming soaked. His long, houndstooth blazer of a dreary gray color and a dotted scarf wrapped once around his neck make him blend in nicely with the darkness. 

Harry clears his throat and politely bows to the daunting watchman. "Kobanwa," he greets, hiding the gum under his tongue out of courtesy. (Good evening.) 

"Kon'nichiwa," says the man with a reciprocated bow. "Anata no mōshide wa nanidesu ka?" (Hello. What is your offer?) 

Opening the breast pocket of his blazer, Harry plucks out three bills. He unfolds the creased paper one by one, revealing the printed face of an esteemed writer and a five-digit number representing a hefty amount of yen. His desire is worth significantly more, but he'll undoubtedly be spending the rest of what's tucked in his wallet for reasons that will never be publicly disclosed. 

"Sakura," Harry says with unwavering eye contact. 

He only needs to say a single name for the man to stare back in challenge for three seconds. He then takes the yen and inspects it for possible counterfeits, his nimble fingers flipping the banknotes over with a particular procedure. After an anticipatory moment of crinkling sounds and drowned-out electronic music, he raps a rhythmic knock on the garage behind him. It instantly lifts with a grinding creak, the smoke releasing from underneath and crawling up Harry's legs like ivy on a brick wall. 

"Anata no norimono o tanoshinde kudasai." (Enjoy your ride.) 

Harry gives the man a fixed smile and then enters his paradise. Weeks of lousy business trips that required him to globetrot across continents have led to this. Tokyo always has something sensational in store for him. He comes back to the sleepless city time and time again for the unpredictability. 

Disappointment doesn't exist here—escapade does. 

The metal stairs leading to the underground club are grungy and steep, so Harry uses the shaft of his umbrella as a makeshift cane to traverse down the dilapidated steps. Every footfall ends in a squeak until he reaches the velvet carpet at the bottom. Thumping music loudens, the scent of cigarettes grows stronger, and the beat of his heart pounds faster in anticipation. 

Red curtains are suspended in front of him, and distant chatter that eclectically ranges from foreign to familiar dialect echoes from behind them. Harry sets his umbrella by the nearby coat rack, then takes his scarf and blazer off to hang them next to a pristine suit jacket. He takes a glimpse at his own suit. It's black cashmere with a contrasting white button-up underneath and a silk tie. He adjusts the collar, tugs on the lapels, and swiftly unclasps the single button. With a final ruffle of his flattened hair and a crack of his neck, he's ready for total immersion. 

Pushing the curtains aside, he crosses the threshold. There's no turning back now. 

The seductive ambiance immediately invades every one of his senses. There's red everywhere. The spacious room holds the key to subliminal distraction, from the ruby wallpaper to the vermillion leather booths. It's a sub-rosa room where players can have fun after dusk. Every soul that wanders in leaves with a newfangled perspective on the divine beauty of women. At least that's what Harry left with the first time he traipsed in as a fresh face from Europe, a wax-sealed invitation in his hesitant grasp. 

He wouldn't call himself a loyal customer, per se. He's not dependent on the half-empty glasses of Yamazaki malt whiskey presented to him on serving trays, only to be respectfully declined. Nor does he come for the puffed cigars and joints perched between persuasive fingertips and lips. 

No, it's the stage in his peripheral vision that he floats toward. It's where his desire lies. 

His Sakura. 

She's on the round stage amid her nightly performance, one leg hooked around a silver pole protruding from the middle of the platform. A red spotlight shines down on her contorted body, her limbs reaching out like the slender branches of a cherry blossom tree. Her long hair is snaked into six braids, four twisted up high and two tinier ones falling over her forehead. The audience of men, some standing close and some sitting in booths, piercingly whistle over the loud music while throwing wads of yen at her as she spins into an upside-down position with ease, gripping the pole using just her ankles. It gives everyone a full view of her leather bodysuit, the glossy black material with cutouts revealing peeks of smooth, brown skin. 

Harry stuffs a hand in his pocket and lingers at the back of the club, where no one can pester him with invasive questions about his intentions. They don't understand. He's not here to 'get some,' as they often assume. Sure, he'll leave the place feeling satisfied, but they don't know he gets to take home the woman they're currently fawning over. 

Her pole dancing performance nears its end, with a final layer of smoke hovering over the circular platform. The mystique she exudes as she slides into an effortless split is tantalizing. Harry swallows thickly as his hand curls into a fist, every fiber of his being practically itching to be alone with her. He never grows tired of watching her, yet he's utterly addicted to what happens in their designated private room. 

The red spotlight switches to a bright white, and his Sakura smiles dazzlingly while collecting the bills thrown her way. Harry smirks and applauds, then pushes off the wall to give her his own special offering. This part seems to always occur in slow motion for him. His eyes are locked on her as he waits until she catches his hypnotic gaze. He weaves through the crowd while chewing on his now flavorless gum, mumbling apologies when he bumps into people's drunken sways until he finally reaches the stage. Slightly opening his suit, he reaches into the interior breast pocket and pulls out a plucked cherry blossom. Technically speaking, he breaks the law every time he acquires the pink symbolism of human existence, but it's of little consequence to his morals. He has much worse crimes under his belt. 

Harry gently holds out the blossom amidst the flying yen, a pastel pink delicacy in a sea of brown riches. The following moments play out like a scene in a movie. Time seems to freeze as he homes in on the sound of her high heels clicking closer. He steadily looks up, taking in her tall legs and heaving chest. She tucks a few yen in the tight seam of her bodysuit, then provides him with her undivided attention. 

"For me?" she mouths over the deafening music. 

His lips break into a wide smile at the sound of her euphonic voice, which he so longingly missed. "Always for you."

Bending down, she takes the cherry blossom from him and brings it under her nose. Her eyes flutter as she smells the fragrant flower. It's flattering that no matter how often she's received one, she still sticks it behind her ear like she does now. 

The surrounding men marvel over her, but they'll be distracted soon enough. Two more poles emerge from the stage, and a group of stripper girls come out to continue the regularly scheduled show. Harry doesn't lose focus on his Sakura, simply backing away slowly and jerking his head toward the VIP rooms. It's a drill he aims to follow through with zero problems arising. Almost everyone here is a stranger, so that means they cannot be trusted in the slightest. It's why he doesn't speak to them. If any outsiders find out about the dirty business he deals with on the side, it's a downhill slope into deep trouble. 

Harry stops at the opposite side of the room and faces another security guard, but this time, it's one he knows quite well. "Ryōji," he says while bowing. "O-genki desu ka?" (How are you?) 

Ryōji bows and withdraws a small gold key from one of the ten hooks behind him. "Okaeri nasai," he responds. (Welcome back.) 

Welcome back, indeed. Harry quickly glances around and then places a heavy hand on Ryōji's shoulder, leaning in so no one else can hear him. In English, he murmurs, "We've got another one out back. Do you think you can get some men to handle it before sunrise? I'll have the money sent to you by next week." 

The deep inhalation Ryōji takes always makes him nervous. A dreadful silence passes before he says, "Yes, sir. Any special instructions?" 

Harry gives him a friendly pat on the arm and takes the key. "Just the usual. She already took care of the hard part." 

"As you wish." 

With that, Harry gratefully nods and then walks into the back area, where several red doors, some open and some closed, present themselves in a semi-circular fashion. Steering to the right, he throws his gum away and goes to the door with a black '七' on it. 

Lucky number seven for a joyride in heaven. 

The room is a perfect size, with curtains hanging over the walls for a more intimate experience. Two velvet couches are placed on either side, and a table with glasses and a bottle of an unknown alcoholic drink sits nearby. And, of course, a red light emits from the low ceiling. 

Harry gets comfortable, tugging on his pants legs and sitting on the plush couch. Precious time ticks by, the songs slowing into more sultry beats as he waits. He checks his diamond-encrusted wristwatch—it's half past midnight, yet he doesn't feel tired. Maybe it's the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Only the mysterious aura of Tokyo can give him an electric charge like no other. 

At last, Desiree struts into the room and daintily falls sideways into his lap. Her stripper name is Sakura, but her real name is used when she's alone with him. She jumps right in and holds his scruffy cheek, kissing all over his face as the red lipstick she wears stamps evidence on his flushed skin. 

"I've missed you," she whispers in his ear. 

Harry holds her waist and rolls his hips for some relief. "It's all my fault, isn't it? I've been so busy." 

Desiree takes the key from him and quickly locks the door. When she returns, she straddles him and says, "You came back to me, though." 

He nips her neck, short and tender. "I got your text message and flew straight here." 

She grips his chin. "That message wasn't about seeing me." 

Harry swallows thickly, his throat suddenly parched. "We don't need to talk about that right now," he murmurs. 

"But it will be dealt with?" she asks, her eyebrows dipping with concern. 

"Yes, my love." 

"Okay." She gently passes her thumb over his eyelashes like they're pages of a well-loved book. "That's all I need to hear." 

Harry distracts himself from the dangerous subject by twirling one of her braids around his pointer finger. "I like it when you wear your hair like this, Desi. So pretty."

"Yeah?" 

"Mm-hmm. I've gone far too long without you." 

She begins loosening his tie. "Tell me what you need." 

Sifting through his brain, Harry contemplates his options. The club doesn't allow actual intercourse inside its perimeters, so there are limited, albeit creative, methods that are used. Desiree once told him that the strippers are given a manual of all the diverse ways they can please a customer. There was a specific one he heard her briefly mention in passing. At the time, he was too shy to ask for more details, so he went home and researched the term. Needless to say, it sounded worthwhile. 

"Can I have the... red light special? Is that what it's called?" 

Desiree smirks and remarks, "That's new. You've never asked for that before." 

He blushes with a lackadaisical shrug. "Sorry. Being edged just sounds really fuckin' good right now." 

"Why are you apologizing?" She pushes lightly on his chest so he can comfortably lean against the couch. "Relax. Let me take care of you." 

Harry couldn't possibly argue, especially when she doesn't waste any time and starts with a green light. Gripping his shoulders, she smoothly rocks into his body with quick movements. His hands knead her ass, the bodysuit bestowing the perfect amount of skin for him to grab. The tension in his muscles eases as she applies pressure to his growing bulge, every perpetual grind making him harder by the minute. His eyes and neck roll back, and he forgets why he was ever stressed hours prior and instead succumbs to the satisfying ache she provides him. 

"Oh, my God," Harry moans, spreading his legs further apart. "Fuck, Desi, you feel so good. I'm all yours." 

She bites her bottom lip and moves her hips counterclockwise. The switch has Harry gritting his teeth. Shuddering, he opens his mouth and pathetically whimpers while running his hands up her clenched thighs. He feels hot—sweaty, sticky, and salaciously hot. He's burning in a blitz of fiery passion. 

The yellow light is when Desiree slows down, still grinding swivels over his pelvis. The throbbing of his cock ceases, and the buildup disappears momentarily. Her back arches as she uses her height over him to palm him with her hand. Leisurely, she squeezes where the head of his cock is through his pants, and a sensitive tingle rushes down his spine as he bites down on his knuckles to suppress his pleading noises. 

"Does that feel nice?" she asks, kissing his slack jaw. 

Harry's face crumbles in submission. "I need to come. I can't take it anymore." 

Red light. He knows he asked for it, but when she stops moving and stands before him, he reaches for her absent touch. "No, come back. C'mon, please. Stop playing around." 

She ignores him and kneels on the ground. With one finger, she trails it up his inner thigh until it reaches his covered cock. She fondles the length of it, erotically squeezing in all the right places while looking at him with eyes of a rich brown color. He often dreams of her mouth puckered around it, her wet lips and hollowed cheeks making him fall apart. 

Suddenly, his tie is removed, and Desiree holds it up. "Are you ready?" 

"I'm so close," Harry breathes out. Inhaling sharply through his nose, he adds, "You're so gorgeous; do you know that? Got me... shit, I'm absolutely aching for you." 

She stuffs the tie in his mouth and finally straddles him again, riding his thighs to bring him to his peak. His moans are muffled against the fabric as she gives him a lap dance, her body rolling to the R&B music from the distant speakers. 

It doesn't take long for Harry to come; a damp spot forms on his pants shortly after. Every part of his body feels light as he spits his tie out, breathing heavily. He really needed this. 

"Ready to leave this place?" he asks, touching himself until he's soft and able to walk.

Desiree kisses him, her tongue delving into his mouth, before nodding. "Are you taking me on another joyride?" 

Harry smirks and wipes off the lipstick stain she left on the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Full throttle, baby." 

——

デザレイ 

The first thing Desiree sees when rounding the corner of the alleyway is a parked Kawasaki motorcycle. 

The rain has let up; only a light drizzle is now falling from the starlit sky. People still pass by with umbrellas, minding their business. The lights outside are stimulating, with signs above casting fuchsia pink and Prussian blue hues over her and Harry's faces. The air reeks of gasoline and smoke, and vehicles are racing past to hop on the expressway. It's a city of nocturnal souls who get off on cheap thrills, and she couldn't help but get hooked on the appeal. Night crawling on a high-speed bike through the neon streets is the most thrilling adventure she can imagine. 

Harry rents out a different motorcycle every time he visits. When they first met, he told her he owned a marketing firm in London, so he had the money to afford such luxuries. The first time he walked into the club, she thought he would be like everyone else—a drunk and lonesome man needing attention. However, he was actually a man of innocence who stumbled upon an underground scene he wasn't expecting. She saw the intrigue in his eyes and taught him how her world worked. She let him choose what he desired without taking advantage of him. She trusted his intentions and let him see every side of her, saintly or sinful. 

Their journey leads to the eager way he's looking at her now, one gloved hand holding out a helmet and the other gripping the motorcycle's handlebar. 

"Ladies first," he says with a playful smile. 

Desiree tightens the belt on her blood-red leather coat and puts the helmet on. It rubs uncomfortably against her hair, but she's not one to place beauty above safety precautions. She then hikes a leg over the back seat, and Harry does the same motions while straddling the front seat and starting the engine. It rumbles to life when he squeezes the clutch, and he attractively revs the engine three times. 

"All good?" Harry calls out behind him, using the back of his shoe to kick up the kickstand. 

She wraps both arms around his waist and props her chin on his shoulder. "So good." 

Reaching back to squeeze her thigh, he speeds into the fast lane. For the next twenty minutes, the brisk wind blows in her ears, and the feeling of flying overtakes her entire body. She spreads her arms, and Tokyo comes alive just for her, blurry colors whooshing past as they accelerate through traffic on the winding expressway. They ride out of the district and towards Marunouchi, where the Shangri-La Hotel is located. With five stars and eleven floors of pure splendor, it's the best place to have a late-night rendezvous. 

When they eventually pull up to the hotel, a rectangular building made entirely of glass panes, Harry parks the motorcycle and kills the engine. Desiree carefully removes her helmet and fixes her hair the best she can. Her makeup feels tacky against her skin, but the cool air of an autumn night is refreshing. She looks over to see Harry do the same, his hair sticking up every which way. He sheepishly grins at her and rolls his eyes. 

"Hurry up," Desiree says through chattering teeth. She bounces on her heels, feeling the ache travel from her ankles to the tips of her toes. 

"All right, all right," Harry mumbles jokingly, holding his hand out. "I'll have a word with Raijin about the inadequate weather." 

"Studying Japanese deities, are we?" 

Interlocking her numb fingers with his, they head inside the lavish lobby and take the elevator to the seventh floor. The ride is quiet, and exhaustion finally catches up to them. After six beeps, a more prolonged one sounds, and the doors slide open. They walk down the narrow hallway to the back, where the suites are located. Harry swipes his key card and twists the door handle to go inside, Desiree following closely. 

The suite is as tidy and stylish as one would expect from a businessman staying there. Two designer-brand suitcases are stacked in the corner by the running air conditioner. A housekeeper must have cleaned and organized his belongings. Crisp white sheets on the king bed look quintessential for bundling up in. 

Desiree removes her heels and flops on the firm mattress. She blearily watches Harry open the mini fridge by the door, hearing the clink of beer bottles. Her assumption proves correct when one is thrown beside her, yet her body has no energy left to open the cap and drink the bitter liquid. 

Harry takes off his suit jacket and button-up, then sits against the headboard and spreads his legs on either side of her sprawled-out body. He takes a swig of beer, his jawline sharp and his throat bobbing. His bare torso, decorated with tattoos, looks like the perfect pillow, so Desiree shimmies upwards to lay her head on his abdomen. She listens to his subtle breathing.

"So, how'd you kill him?" 

Well, that's one way to initiate a conversation. Desiree snaps her eyes to his, staring at him a little funny due to her position. "Katana," she answers casually. "Quick and easy." 

He hums, sets his beer on the nightstand, and then delicately untangles her two front braids. "Made a mess, huh? Ryōji's men won't be too happy about that." 

She fidgets with one of her loose acrylic nails. "They've dealt with worse cleanups." 

She knew what she was getting into when she decided to work in Tokyo's Red Light District. There's no way to sugarcoat what goes down in the alleyways. It doesn't feel like a crime to her if she's getting rid of the bad guys. It's justified in her mind. 

Harry moves his hands to undo her bigger braids. "I know," he says softly, "but it's getting riskier. And more expensive on my end." 

Sighing, Desiree replies, "Asphyxiation is so boring, though. I like my swords." 

"Desi, I'm serious." He tilts her head to look at her straight on. "It worries me when you do those types of killings, and I'm not here to handle the outcome. What if something were to go wrong?" 

She frowns. "We're a team. You flew out to me without hesitation when I told you my plan." 

"Yes, but you act on impulse sometimes," he says, putting her elastic ponytail around his wrist. "I can't always do that with my job. You're lucky I was available." 

"So, you only came to help with the repercussions? Not to see me?" 

"You know that's not true. If it was, I'd be on a plane back to London right now instead of spending the night with you in Tokyo." 

"Just making sure," she says with a hidden undertone of insecurity. 

Once all six braids are out, her hair frizzy and free, Desiree sits up and takes her suffocating coat off. Underneath, she has a more comfortable outfit that she changed into before leaving the club. She internally debates whether she wants to go through the hassle of taking everything off, but before she can thoroughly weigh her options, Harry reaches over to open the nightstand drawer, pulling out something crinkly.

"I, uh, bought some makeup wipes," he explains while fidgeting with the package. "I didn't know what brand you use, but it's coconut, and I know you like coconut rum. There's no correlation, but it's the thought that counts, right?" 

Desiree is speechless for a moment. This is the first time he's done something like that. "Th-thanks. Can you help me take it off?" she says quietly. 

"'Course. Scoot over." 

She takes one side of the bed and sits cross-legged in front of Harry as he plucks a wipe. He folds it into a compact square four times and then hovers it over her face. His gaze wanders a bit before he starts gently swiping under her eyes. 

He speaks up again once the air conditioner clicks off. "Can I ask, pray tell, why you killed him?" 

Desiree breathes out a laugh. "Funny," she says as he scrubs the pigmented blush off her cheeks. "I remember when you couldn't even stomach asking me that question. Now you do all the dirty side work." 

Harry shrugs. "You're a bad influence." 

Sage advice from two people who dabble in reincarnating as a more sadistic Bonnie and Clyde: It's remarkably more fun to have a loyal partner in crime than to be a lone outlaw. 

"Let's see," she muses with a dramatic flair. "His name was... fuck if I know. All I was told was that he was a gang member who lured young girls in and brainwashed them into committing crimes around Shinjuku for money worth jack squat." 

"Jesus. What about the other gang members?" he asks, wiping her smeared lipstick off. 

"I'm not too worried about them. They would never suspect that a stripper at Joyride killed one of their own. They'll probably assume it was another gang's doing." 

"That's a relief." Harry yawns and tosses the dirtied makeup wipe into the nearby garbage. "All right, I've had enough killer talk. Shall we get some sleep?" 

Desiree grins tiredly and touches the smoothness of her bare face. "We shall. My body aches." 

Stripping takes a toll on her joints and muscles, especially since she incorporates performance art into her dancing. Untreated strains and torn ligaments have been left in the past due to years of training, but residual pain still lingers each night when she steps off the stage. 

Once they're comfortable under the sheets, Desiree curls into Harry's warm chest. "When do I have you until?" she asks reluctantly. 

He wraps an arm over her back and says, "Tomorrow night." 

She recounts all the times he's had to catch a red-eye flight immediately after they arrive at the hotel. Tonight, she's lucky she got him a little longer than usual. 

"It's better than nothing." 

Harry scrunches her hair and leaves a long kiss on her temple. "You can always come back to Europe with me," he murmurs. The scent of beer wafting through his breath is mouth-watering. 

Desiree shakes her head solemnly. "I can't. I belong here." 

"I understand." She feels him smile before kissing her head once more. "A cherry blossom should stay in Japan, right?" 

"Very clever." She closes her eyes. There's an elongated pause of internal reflection before she continues. "Listen, I don't want you to feel trapped. I don't want you to feel like I'm using you." 

Harry rubs the sore muscles around her shoulder blades. "I don't feel that way. I chose to get involved with how you live your life. If I'm being honest, I quite enjoy the danger of it." 

It's easy for him to say when he only has to deal with the business side of it. A pipeline of recruitment occurred where Shyla loosely hired Harry to hire men who would dispose of the dead bodies she threw in the dumpster behind the club. No one dares roam that haunted alleyway, which makes it the most adequate place to safely hide a killing. Then, he pays them handsomely in cash for successfully completing the treacherous deed. 

Desiree cups his cheek and whispers, "Please... just tell me if it ever gets too much and you want out. I'll find someone else." 

"It's never too much when your intentions are good." 

It's not enough. His safety is her top priority. 

"Tell me to stop, and I will," she says sternly. "Give me the red light, and I'll go to Europe with you. You can show me Buckingham Palace and that stupid clock—" 

"Desi," Harry interrupts with a thumb against her parted lips. "I will tell you if it gets to that point, okay?" 

She takes his large hand and holds onto it like it's the last time she'll ever touch his skin. "Promise me." 

"Yakusoku." (Promise.) 

His spoken oath doesn't mend the problem she has with herself. There's a constant battle whenever she thinks too deeply about what she participates in. She questions whether it was a mistake to get involved in cover-up assassinations and bring Harry into it. He used to be innocent. Someone who discovered the darker side of Tokyo is now stuck in the whirlwind of her immoral faults. Did she make him into a brand-new person? A monster? One that knows her crimes and prevents them from becoming exposed? 

Is it wrong that she fell for him in the process? 

She can never tell him. No, that would complicate things beyond the boundary lines she drew for herself long before she met him. There are too many risks when feelings are a factor—risks of turning on each other if there are relationship issues. Then there's the plain and straightforward risk of barely seeing each other in person. It's all too poisonous of a pool to dip her feet into. Her guard is up, and it's not coming down for anything or anyone. 

However, as Desiree drifts into a dreamland, she realizes her guard is lower whenever Harry is around. With his fingers soothingly scratching up and down her aching spine, she doesn't feel the uncertainty that always clouds her mind when he's not beside her. It clears when she awakes to the smell of brewing coffee and room service breakfast on a cart before she can even open her eyes. It gnaws at her boarded-up heart until the pieces chip away. What's left is a vulnerable girl who seeks refuge but can't leave a place of fortune and frisson. She's a moon in broad daylight. 

Does she want to be saved? Or does the red light call her name for a reason? 

——

[thejessyami]

INVITATION PART 2 (MAKISIG X ANON)

Disclaimer: I do not own Makisig, Maliksi, or any other Planet Puto Characters that might appear later. They belong to @ask-emilz-de-philzmilz-de-philz

Anon on the other hand is you. So enjoy! 

Part 1 here : Invitation Part 1

Part 3 : Invitation Part 3 (NSFW)

   You tightened your grip on Makisig's hand as you approached the light, instinctively closing your eyes. Makisig softly chuckled, amused by your reaction. However, second thoughts crossed your mind, and you took a step back. Sensing your hesitation and determined to prevent you from backing out, Makisig lifted your body in one swift motion. In response to the sudden movement, you unintentionally shouted, hastily wrapping your arms tightly around Makisig's neck to avoid falling.   

Before you could confront him, he immediately moved toward the light. Reacting instinctively, you closed your eyes once again, clutching onto him tightly for dear life. "You can open your eyes now," Makisig's voice reassured you. Hesitantly, you complied, and as you opened your eyes, the first sight that greeted you was Makisig's face, looking down at you with a warm smile. The close proximity between your face caused a blush to creep onto your cheeks. In an attempt to evade this overwhelming feeling, you averted your gaze.   

What captured your attention was the breathtaking sight unfolding before you. A lush, dense forest encircled a city nestled within its heart. Towering jet-black buildings, reaching heights akin to skyscrapers, glowed with a captivating golden hue. "Wow," you exclaimed in sheer amazement at the stunning scenery. Makisig gently set you down and warmly greeted, "Welcome to Biringan City." His words snapped you out of your trance, and you gazed at him with a questioning look. "Biringan?" you echoed, seeking clarification.  

You looked at him and saw some changes in his body, his hands now resembled golden claws, and his complexion had turned unnaturally pale. The word "Biringan" flashed in your mind, recalling the articles you had read, and the tales shared by locals about a hidden realm where mystical beings dwelled.  

Suddenly aware of his true nature, a wave of fear washed over you, causing you to instinctively cross your arms defensively and moving backwards. "W-what are you?" you stammered, unable to hide the tremor in your voice. “A-are you one of the Encanto's that resides here?” you continued as his true self somewhat piqued your curiosity. Makisig couldn't help but laugh as you defensively reacted.

Once Makisig stopped laughing, he looked at you with a blend of amusement and a hint of something more ominous hidden in his eyes. "I see the rumors of Biringan have reached your ears," he said, his voice carrying a strange melodic tone. "But I am no Encanto. I am a Tamawo."  

The name sent a shiver down your spine. Tamawo's were known as shape-shifting creatures with a fondness for mischief and sometimes even malevolence. You took another step back, suddenly aware of the danger in front of you.    

You swallowed hard, your mind racing with thoughts of how to escape this encounter unscathed. But deep down, you knew that you were in the presence of something ancient and powerful, something that could easily crush you like a mere mortal insect.  

As if sensing your desperation to escape, he spoke, his voice laced with an eerie calmness. "As I mentioned before, I have no intention of harming you," he reassured, though his words did little to quell your rising panic.

"I want to go back!" you blurted out; desperation evident in your voice.  

"I'm sorry, but that is non-negotiable for now," he replied coolly, his expression unyielding.  

"But you promised... you said you would return me if I asked!" you protested, clinging to the faint hope of his earlier words.  

He tapped his finger thoughtfully against his chin, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, yes, I did say that... But that was only applicable outside," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.  

You dropped down to your knees, feeling utterly defeated. It hit you hard that getting out of this place was next to impossible. Tears filled your eyes, burning as they streamed down your cheeks. You scolded yourself for the stupid decisions that led you here. How could you have followed a stranger – no, a Creature – into this strange world, only to find yourself trapped with no way out? 

Ignoring the intimidating presence in front of you, you covered your face with your hands and cried out loudly. The sound echoed in the eerie silence around you, showing just how hopeless and lost you felt.  

Makisig sighed heavily, his expression momentarily softening as he watched your despair unfold before him. Despite his otherworldly nature, there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes, as if he understood the weight of your anguish.     

He moved closer, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. "Don't cry, Binibibi," he said softly, his voice surprisingly soothing.  You looked at him angrily and shouted “WHY?! AS IF YOU’RE THE ONE TRAPPED HERE!” you cried out even louder making sure his eardrums popped out even though you know it was futile, yet in that moment, it was the only release you had.  

  

Sighing once more, he spoke with a solemn tone, "Alright, I'll ensure you get out." His words halted your tears momentarily, and you looked up at him, a glimmer of hope rekindling in your eyes.    

"But not now," he added, extinguishing that fragile hope with his next words.  

Your frustration boiled over, and you shouted in exasperation, "MAKE UP YOUR MIND!" His indecision only added to your torment. "Are you letting me out or not?!" you demanded, your voice tinged with desperation, longing for a definitive answer from him.  

He chuckled "I will let you out, but not right now," he replied, his voice tinged with an air of finality. "Remember, I did promise to take you somewhere fun." His smiled  

'"What kind of fun can there be in a place filled with creatures that could kill me in an instant?" you blurted out, your frustration mounting with each passing moment. The absurdity of his notion of "fun" in such a dangerous environment only added to your sense of despair.  

He cupped your face squishing it, like you were some plush toy. "Worry not, Binibini" he said, his voice oddly comforting despite the situation. "As long as I'm here, I will not let anything happen to you."  

While he reassured you, a bit of relief surfaced, yet doubt and fear lingered in the background. "Now, just come with me," he continued, his tone coaxing. "The sooner we get there, the faster you can go home."  

His words lingered in the air, tempting but uncertain. Reluctantly, you nodded, your determination wavering as you let yourself be guided deeper into the unknown realms.  

As you passed by a boutique store on the street, you couldn't help but shout in your mind, ‘Is that Dior?!’ The continuous stream of high-end boutiques, restaurants, and even auto shops that appeared before you as Makisig drove his sports car only added to the surreal atmosphere.  

Another familiar brand caught your attention, and you looked at Makisig with shining eyes, excitement bubbling up inside you. "You even have Starbucks here?!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your enthusiasm. Makisig simply laughed at your cute outburst, "Would you like to buy drinks before continuing on the road?" he offered, his tone light and inviting.  

"Can I?" you exclaimed with excitement, but the thrill was short-lived as a sudden realization crossed your mind.   

"But..." you hesitated, feeling uneasy. Makisig noticed and asked, "But what?"  

"Don't worry, I'll pay," he reassured, his words intended to alleviate your concerns. However, while the payment system in this realm intrigued you momentarily, your focus shifted to a more pressing matter—Anything you consume within Biringan could have dire consequences, one being trapped in the realm forever. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and you hesitated, torn between the temptation of Starbucks and the fear of never returning back home.

"I can't eat here," you stated firmly. Makisig, ever perceptive, already understood your concerns upon hearing those words.  "If the thought of being trapped here indefinitely concerns you, there's no need to worry. I will make sure you don't ingest anything here that could jeopardize your return home." he said reassuringly.

Despite the tempting proposal, you couldn't shake off your caution. "No thank you, I'd rather not risk it," you replied, holding firm to your decision. "Well, suit yourself," he responded, as if accepting your choice.

The entire ride was quiet but not lengthy. Upon reaching your destination, you gazed wide-eyed at the gates, marveling at the scene unfolding before you. A long driveway cut through a landscaped garden, leading to a massive fountain adorned with sculptures of four naked ladies holding a vase from which water flowed. Behind it stood a large modern mansion with towering glass windows. The car halted in front of the portico, and Makisig declared, "And we are finally here." You looked at Makisig, still processing everything you had seen. "Is this... yours?" you asked. Makisig nodded, “Yes, Stay seated Binibini." he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car. With swift elegance, he moved to the other side and opened the door for you. "Mind your head, Binibini," he said, extending his hand in a gentlemanly gesture to help you out of the car.  

Reaching for Makisig’s hand, you stepped outside the car, the door of the mansion opened, and came out from the inside was a silver-haired boy that looked like a teenager. He swiftly made his way towards you and shouted “KUYA!!!” Makisig swiftly catching the perpetrator. “What took you so long!” the boy exclaimed, clinging to his older brother like a little child, completely ignoring your existence. Makisig chuckled and didn't answer directly but greeted, "I'm home, Maliksi." You observed their interaction as Maliksi complained about his day, citing a quarrel with one of Makisig's ladies as the cause of his troubles. "Are you sure you didn't start the fight?" Makisig questioned, already seeming to know the answer. "NO! Why would I? They started it! Saying I'm not well-mannered and stuff!" Maliksi replied defensively before huffing. Makisig simply shook his head in defeat, acknowledging his brother's predictable nature of denying fault in any situation.  

Makisig glanced at you with a wry smile, as if silently expressing apologies for the current situation unfolding. Maliksi noticed his older brother's attention being diverted, looked in your direction, and his eyes narrowed with irritation, as if upset that Makisig's focus was now on you. "What? A new one already?" He asked his tone mixed with curiosity and annoyance.    

“She’ll be here for a while, so be good to her” Makisig said to his brother who clearly doesn’t welcome you with open arms. The tension in the air lingered, indicating that your presence might be causing some discomfort or resistance from Maliksi's side.  

As you processed the situation, recognizing Maliksi as another Tamawo added to the complexity. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, you couldn't help but worry about the challenges ahead. However, Makisig reassured you, saying, "Don't worry, my brother will not hurt or touch you." Maliksi affirmed his words with a nonchalant reply, "Yeah, I won't. I respect my Kuya, and I also don't like ugly girls like you." His words stung with an unexpected harshness, leaving you taken aback by the blatant insult.   

Before you could respond to Maliksi's harsh comment, Makisig swiftly intervened, smacking Maliksi on the head. "You don't tell a lady she's ugly," Makisig scolded, making it clear that such disrespectful remarks were not tolerated. You looked at them in amazement as you saw the two interact, their interaction seemed very much like how humans would behave, making you wonder about the intriguing mix of their Tamawo nature and human-like actions.       Maliksi looked at his brother with tears in his eyes while rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry” he said then looked back at you and stuck his tongue out in mockery. Before he got hit again by his brother he dashed back into the mansion, leaving the two of you alone again.  

Makisig rubbed his temples and sighed, then turned to you with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if my brother has offended you, Binibibi. Don't take it to heart; he may be a bit mischievous, but he's a good kid," he explained.  

"Come now, let's get you to your room," Makisig said, extending his hand. You looked at him with a questioning expression. "My room?" you asked, realizing his offer meant you would be staying there for a while. Makisig chuckled and responded, "Yes, why? Do you want to stay here outside?" He teased, his eyes looking at you playfully. Resignedly, you sighed and took his hand. "Fine, lead the way."

  The exterior was already visually appealing, but the interior was truly marvelous. A blend of modern furniture and antique decorations adorned the space. You looked at Makisig with your mouth agape, wondering how much money this person had. Even if you won the lottery, it still wouldn't be enough to buy the interiors of this house. 

As you explored the mansion, curiosity about Makisig's source of wealth lingered in your mind. Climbing the stairs, you encountered doors on the right and a garden on the left. Pausing to appreciate the view, you released Makisig's hand and moved closer to the window. The expansive garden outside lifted your spirits, and the vibrant display of nature captivated you.

Interrupting your thoughts, Makisig's voice whispered near your ear, "Would you like to see it?" his voice sent shivers down your spine. Blushing at the unexpected closeness, you instinctively touched your ear, reacting to the tickling sensation. Makisig, amused, wore a devilish smile in response to your embarrassment. Eager to change the subject, you marched forward, insisting, "Just take me to my room or whatever!"

Makisig, playing along, teased, "Wait for me, Binibini. Do you know where you're heading?" Pausing abruptly, you realized the unintentional nature of your actions. Angrily, you shot him a glance with your face still flushed. Rather than confronting him, you gestured for him to lead the way. Makisig chuckled and proceeded, with you following closely behind.

Stopping in front of a door, he opened it and gestured for you to enter. "Welcome to your room, Binibini," he announced playfully.

You walked inside slowly, the room impressed you, with a modern and elegant feel like a 5-star hotel. It had a queen-sized bed in the center, large windows with curtains on each side, and a terrace with a set of coffee tables outside. The luxurious atmosphere increased your curiosity about the man who owned this mansion.     “I hope it’s to your liking” He asked “if you need anything you just press that button, a servant will attend to you.” He said pointing at the bed table on the left side of the bed. He looked around and back at you, “If you need a change of clothes just take anything from the closet.” He pointed at the door at the east side of the room.

He affectionately patted your head and spoke in a calm voice, "I know this is a lot to process." Holding your hand, he pressed a gentle kiss on the back of it. His gaze held a mixture of understanding and reassurance. "And I also feel that you're tired now. Just get some rest, and I'll pick you up later for dinner," he said as he released your hand. Heading towards the door, he glanced back at you, offering a smile before leaving the room.  

You gazed at the now closed door through which the Tamawo had just vanished. With him gone, a strange quiet filled the room. You looked around the place again still processing everything that happened to you today, your eyes stared at the bed in the center of the room. Giving in to the desire for rest, you flopped onto the bed, face down, and sighed in relief, releasing tension that has been building up on your body. This was an eventful day, and all you wanted was to sleep. 'Yes, Sleep is good. maybe this was just a dream and I'll wake up back in my hotel room' Despite being in a potentially dangerous place, you chose to ignore that reality as you drifted away into the realm of dreams. Authors Note: I would like to address some things

~ This is a Fiction - Fiction

~ My description inside Biringan city was my own interpretation and should not depict the place itself.

~And yes, A MANSION is a must! DUH! How can Maki and Malik house their girls?????

~ Makisig and Maliksi belongs to the one and only @ask-emilz-de-philz

~ Again, sorry if I made any Spelling or Grammar mistakes.

~I only make this as a hobby of mine, so please be forgiving XD.

~Any comments, suggestions and Violent reactions are allowed if it helps with improving my writing.

~ Part 3 coming soon! (And the last one I promise!) <3

[germanpostwarmodern]

Since its founding in 1984 the Dutch architecture firm Mecanoo has developed into a globally operating powerhouse: based in Delft the founders Francine Houben, Henk Döll, Rolf Steenhuis, Erik van Egeraat and Chris de Weijer continuously extended the size of their projects from their early experiments in social housing to the skyscrapers, university buildings and libraries of the present day. In recent years Mecanoo also added high-profile renovations and refurbishments to their portfolio, among them the prestigious restoration and transformation of Mies van der Rohe’s Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Library in Washington D.C. and the renovation and extension of Frits Peutz’s Heerlen City Hall, a fascinating piece of Dutch modernist architecture.

The entire range of Mecanoo’s activities in the field of architecture can be studied in their latest monograph, recently published by nai010 publishers: on 528 pages „Mecanoo - People Place Purpose Poetry“, written by Francine Houben and Herbert Wright, presents more than 50 projects from the recent past as well as ongoing ones. They are subdivided into 11 chapters that are prefaced by a brief text that elaborates the ideas connecting the projects discussed.

The monograph’s title in turn alludes to the four P’s Mecanoo addresses in each project: „People“ obviously stands for the architectural translation of the needs of clients and end users while „Place“ represents the crucial importance of setting, climate and culture for each project. „Purpose“ on the other hand symbolizes the nature of every project as a material response to defined objectives and „Poetry“ seeks to infuse architecture with a dimension that touches all senses.

On the basis of countless illustrations, plans and sections the reader can contemplate whether these P’s have all been met but given the degree of detail, preliminary study and discussion there’s little doubt that the architects were determined to have a 360° perspective on each project. The same attention to detail has obviously also been applied to the book because the quality of illustrations and the detailed information provided on each project are beyond any doubt. Highly recommended!

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Twin Flame - Chapter 33: "Look What You Made Me Do"

"I don't like your little games, don't like your tilted stage, the role you made me play of the fool..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes The Twin Flame Chapter List | The Grumpy x Sunshine Universe

"We have breaking news. There's a complete lockdown at the GRC meeting in Lower Manhattan where authorities are saying they're tracking multiple threats from groups seeking to stop the GRC's vote on global resettlement. There is a no-fly zone in effect..."

You watch the broadcast in the storefront before you in abject horror.

You so badly believed that there was good in Karli. You wanted to believe that she would do the right thing and stop this before it got out of hand, but here it was.

Completely and totally out of hand.  

Your earpiece crackles to life, pulling your attention away from the screen. The voice you hear is not the one you were expecting, "Sam, this is already a shit show. Can we really handle this ourselves?"

Sam's voice suddenly fills your ear, "Don't worry, I called in backup."

"Backup?" Bucky asks, wading through the spectators formed around the GRC building. 

You look away from the screens, scanning the street for the sight of Bucky. You find him in the middle of the sidewalk, his neck craned up to look at the skyscraper that was supposed to host the now delayed GRC vote tonight. 

Though you're certain he can't hear your approach over the loud sounds of sirens waling and people scrambling through the frantic scene, you see his eyebrows furrow, he quickly looks away from the building, frantically scanning the area. 

He finds you in an instant, his eyes drawn by some inexplicable gravitational pull to you. A breath lodges in his throat at the shock of seeing you.

In that moment, he swears his heart skips a beat. 

A goofy grin pulls at the corners of his mouth the moment he sees that it's really you, you're really here, standing just a few feet away from him. So close he can almost touch you, "Hi."

You gently wave as he steps up to you, "Hi."

He resists the instinctive urge to pull you back into his arms.

There's so much he doesn't know right now. He doesn't know where he stands with you. He doesn't know how tonight will end. What he does know is that nothing feels more right that having you by his side. So instead of pulling you into his arms or keeping you at arm's distance, he just keeps smiling that boyish grin, "You're here. I - I can't believe you're here."

You nod, your fingers incrementally lift, subconsciously reaching out to him, "And you're here."

Sam's voice once again echoes in your ear, his tone dripping in sarcasm, "And now that we've established that we are all indeed here, we need to keep our eyes open."

You know Bucky's hearing the same thing you are from the unimpressed frown that weighs down his smile. "That's your plan? Keep our eyes open?"

"Sam's never been one for the plans," you whisper to Bucky.

"I heard that," Sam chides.

"And I say that with all the love and respect in the world!" you add. 

"They're gonna move in on the building soon," Sam informs you and Bucky as he soars around the perimeter of the GRC building, "Karli's not gonna be far from the action. Be ready."

"Be ready. Got it," you mutter to yourself, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to psych yourself up, "Good call, Sam. Be ready."

"Shut up," Sam grumbles. 

"What? I said it was a good call!" you incredulously exclaim.

"I can't believe you're actually here," Bucky continues, chewing on the inside of his cheek to tamp down what he's certain is a ridiculous smile, "It's good to see you. Here, I mean - It's good that you're here."

You shyly smile up at him, "It's only been a week, James."

"Doesn't matter," Bucky nonchalantly shrugs, though he swears his pulse stutters when his name falls from your lips. Just like before. He wants to tell you that this past week since he left Louisiana has felt like one of the longest weeks of his life. He wants to tell you that he doesn't know how he survived six months away from you when a single week was this heart wrenching. He wants to say that now that he's had another taste of what life is with you, he doesn't intend on living without it again. He's still not brave enough. He fleetingly wonders if he'll ever be. "It's always good to see you. Always."

Now, it's your turn for your heart to stutter in your chest. You suck in a soft breath, unsure of what to say to him.

You know what he means, though. You know that there's never a time when you're not happy to see him. Even when you're angry with him, even in the most dire of circumstances, your heart will always be content when he's near. A rightness overtakes you, like you're whole again.

It feels like home.

It feels like peace.

"Alright, guys, I got visual," Sam interjects, cutting through your reunion with Bucky. 

You immediately crane your neck, looking up to the night sky to try to spot Sam, "On Karli?"

"On you guys, just standing there, staring at each other," Sam deadpans. 

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Bucky sharply retorts, following you as you begin wandering toward the building. 

"The power's still out in the building," you tell them, walking along the edge of the taped off scene. Bucky trails behind you, intently listening to your every word. "I know it sounds like a bad idea, but I think we might be better off splitting up."

"I've never heard of a worse idea," Sam dryly remarks, still soaring around the perimeter of the GRC building. "You sound like the first person that dies in a horror movie."

"I happen to agree," Bucky reluctantly admits, sparing you an apologetic glance over his shoulder. 

Your mouth twists to one side, crossing your arms over your chest, "So you guys only ever agree to overrule me, huh?"

Bucky shrugs, trailing behind you as you work your way through the crowd, "It's a shock to me, too."

"Why would they-" Just as you begin to speak, a loud hissing sound reverberates through the building. Bucky instinctively grabs your arm, pulling you away from the building and closer to him. You look over your shoulder at him, "That can't be good."

"Sam, they gassed the building," Bucky urgently informs Sam. 

"Why the hell would they gas the building?" Sam mutters, more to himself than to you. He sucks in a small breath, just barely audible to you and Bucky, "She's not trying to get inside, guys."

"She's trying to get everyone out," you finish, a sinking feeling taking root in the pit of your stomach. 

"We have to find her," Bucky firmly states. 

"As opposed to what we were trying to do earlier?" you snarkily retort. You quickly shake your head, placing your hand on your chest, "Sorry, I get sarcastic when I get nervous."

"Maybe you should stop spending so much time with Bucky," Sam teasingly suggests. 

Bucky scoffs from beside you, "Let's focus on one thing at a time, alright?"

"I'm going inside," Sam tells you. "I'll warn the evac team and tell them to keep people inside. You two focus on finding the hostages. Find the hostages, you find Karli."

"Now, that's a plan!" you exclaim. "The trio is alive and well, everyone!"

Bucky smiles at you, watching as you beam at the reunion from his peripheral. You turn to him when you feel eyes on you, he doesn't look away, instead he nods, jutting his head in the direction of the building's garage, "We should go."

And with that, you and Bucky are off.

He knows you're trying to stay out of sight. He knows the risk you've taken by coming here tonight. It doesn't change that your presence seems to be magnetic. People have always liked you, been drawn to you. Who wouldn't turn to the light in times of darkness? 

As much as you try to shy away from the cameras, you don't keep your head down, too preoccupied with finding Karli as quickly as you can. Your eyes drag across the scene, looking for anything that might point you in Karli's direction. 

You've both only trailed half the perimeter when you notice a masked Flag Smasher duck into the sealed off garage. 

You place your hand on Bucky's forearm, pointing at the building's garage, "Look." 

He wordlessly nods, walking side by side with you as you approach the entryway. You duck around the corner, only slightly peaking your head out to get a better idea of what you're walking into. 

"They're further in the garage," you whisper. "We should be able to get in without being seen.

"Alright," Bucky agrees, he taps on the earpiece, informing Sam of your plan, "Sam, we're gonna work the building from the bottom, Sam. Let the evac team know to keep people inside -"

"Like I said already," Sam points out. 

"And we'll cover the exit points from the garage, we can't let her move hostages, it makes the chance of recovery a lot lower."

"There's some hostages being taken up to the roof, there's a helicopter there, but I keep getting-" Sam abruptly stops speak and you hear a pained grunt come from his side of the comms. 

"Sam?" you frantically call out to him. 

"Sam!" Bucky calls. 

Dread washes over you as nothing but silence is heard from Sam's end of the comms device. You sharply inhale, holding your breath. You're not sure if it's to stop you from taking off to find Sam or if it's simply to offer comfort, but Bucky's hand quickly reaches for yours, squeezing it tightly. 

"Sorry," Sam apologizes after a long, drawn out moment. He sounds a little out of breath and agitated, "There's Flag Smashers everywhere. Their supporters are crawling around too. Trust me when I tell you that they are not interested in talking to us."

Though he does his best to hide it, you can see the breath of relief that overcomes Bucky when you hear Sam's voice. Bucky nods, though Sam can't hear him, "We'll watch our backs."

"I'm making my way to the roof. Again. I'll let you know when I've got the hostages secured."

"Got it," you agree. As you both sneak into the garage to surveil the Flag Smashers, Bucky doesn't drop your hand. Hand in hand, you hug the walls of the dim garage, just out of sight of the Flag Smashers operating further in the garage, "You know, none of this makes sense, James."

"How do you mean?"

"Karli is trying to stop the vote tonight. She did that. She's got her hostages, so why go out of her way to create more chaos? Why force people out of the building?" 

"It's a misdirect," Bucky whispers, the pieces finally falling into place in Bucky's mind. "She's not out to stop the vote anymore. And I can bet that she's not planning on letting those hostages go."

"No," you vehemently refute, refusing to accept such a morbid answer, "I know Karli's misguided, but that's a little far, even for her."

Bucky frowns, debating on whether or not to voice his doubts about Karli. He tries not to let Zemo get into his head, but he can't help but think that Zemo might be right about this: you are too close to Karli. You can't separate your fate from hers. "Has it ever occurred to you that she might be too far gone to save?"

"No."

He takes a deep breath, he tries to tell you what he fears as gently as he can, but there's no easy way to say that he's not sure there is a path back to the light for Karli. He wants there to be. He's not quite convinced of it himself though. "I know you want there to be good in her, but there might not be anymore. We may need to accept that."

"People used to say that about me too, you know?"

"You are not Karli!" Bucky frustratedly groans, sweeping across another parking row. "And I want to help her as much as you do, but-"

"But nothing!" you forcefully state, keeping low as you join Bucky behind a concrete wall. You do your best to remain level headed about this, to keep your emotions from clouding your judgement, but you can't help but see yourself in Karli's shoes. You can't help but think that, under slightly different circumstances, you would've been Karli. Without a Flag Smasher in sight, you both continue working your way through to the other side of the garage, "She's a kid, she just needs someone to look at her long enough to see the good there. You know that as well as I do."

"You can't -" A large commotion cuts Bucky off. A group of Flag Smashers whip a side door open, tugging more hostages and shoving them aboard a stolen armored truck. You grab his arm and tug him out of sight just behind one of the structural beams. You slightly poke your head out, watching as the final hostages are loaded up on the armored truck. 

"The hostages," you mouth.

"What are you doing?" he hisses.

"We need to be careful," you quietly reply, hiding behind the pillar. "If we jump in they could run, or worse, they could hurt the hostages. We need to assess the situation."

He snorts, "Since when do you assess situations?"

You dramatically sigh, rolling your eyes, "I sorta told Sam I'd be careful. One bullet wound and he thinks I'm reckless and 'self destructive'."

"Then let's assess, shall we? These are choices that Karli is making of her own volition. Choices that you and I never got. You and I didn't get to choose, not once," Bucky softly explains, gesturing to the hostages being loaded onto one of the armored trucks, "All this, this is her choice."

"I know that," you quietly admit, swallowing the tension that rises in your throat. You remind yourself that you swore to always see the good in the world, to be the good where there wasn't any. You hadn't done that lately, but helping Karli was a pretty good place to start. "But this can't be it. This can't be how her story ends. And I know she can still choose to be good."

Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but before any words come out, Sam is cutting him off with another urgent piece of information, "Where are you guys?"

Bucky clicks his comms device, unmuting himself, "South exit of the garage, why?"

"Karli's got another truck full of hostages on the street," Sam informs you. "Just pulled up out of the garage. Out of the north exit."

You and Bucky share an uneasy look. "Another one? We're watching the truck they have right now."

"They're splitting up the hostages," you mumble to yourself.

"What?"

"They're splitting up the hostages," you repeat, this time loud enough for Sam and Bucky to hear. As you speak, you hear the armored truck you'd been watching rev its engine. You look up to Bucky with a remorseful gaze, "Which means we're gonna have to split up."

"No!" Bucky reaches out and gently grabs your hand, refusing to let you go. "Just hold on a second, isn't that playing right into Karli's hand? We're giving her exactly what she wants."

"She's a kid, James. And I know you don't believe in her, but I need you to believe in me," you plead, squeezing his hand as tightly as you can. "Her story doesn't have to end this way."

"It's too dangerous. Please," Bucky begs, his voice hoarse with desperation. 

His eyes bore into you. They glisten with sincerity, concern, and worst of all, fear. You rest your other hand on his, trailing your thumb on the back of his hand. "I can do this. I can help her. I'll be okay."

Bucky stiffly nods in concession, "You better be."

"I will," you promise, squeezing his hand one last time, "I'll see you in a minute."

Without another word, he takes off in one direction, you in the other. 

As you reach the north exit of the garage, you press your earpiece, "Sam, where's the other truck?" 

"About a block north of the building, it looks like they just stopped in the middle of the street. The street is sealed off, but if you cut through the garage and take a right, you might be able to get through."

"On it."

And though lately you've felt plagued by misfortune, you can't help but feel like you've finally found your luck. Just like Sam said, the truck is stalled in the middle of the street. Not surrounded by Flag Smashers nor by police cars like you anticipated, you find only one person.

Hidden behind a Flash Smasher mask, a head of red hair pokes through, telling you've found the person you've searched for all night. 

It barely registers in the back of your mind that this is almost too coincidental.

A set up, like Bucky said.

You shake it off, you can take whatever Karli throws at you. 

As you approach the truck, you hear the muted screams of the hostages reverberate in the truck. 

"Karli!" you call out to her, almost gasping at her current state. You find her standing in front of a truck full of hostages, holding a flame over the truck as a threat to not come any closer. "What are you doing? This isn't helping anything!"

She chuckles triumphantly, like your predictability will be your downfall, "I knew you'd show up here eventually."

You stand before her, your hands up to show you mean no harm, "That's what you wanted, right? Everyone to finally pay attention to your movement - to you?"

She furiously rips her mask off, sneering at you, "You still don't get it. This isn't a vanity project like your Avengers. This is the only way to help ourselves! All we ever wanted is to matter."

You inch closer to her. You freeze when she shifts the flame closer to the truck, warning you once more. "You do matter. You've always mattered."

"I will never matter to people like you," she seethes, the anger in her voice causing the flame to pulsate with every syllable spoken. "You only care about power. You only listen to power."

"What are you talking about?" you frustratedly question, this time remaining where you are as to not push her any further down this path, "I'm here to help you. I don't care about the GRC. I don't care about any of it. I came here to help you."

"You're a liar," she spits, standing her ground in front of the truck, "You only help yourself."

Not having made any progress with her, you hear a familiar voice bellow down the street. 

"You have got to be kidding me," you grumble to yourself. This is a bad position to be in, you immediately realize. Enemy to your right, enemy to your left. Standing wedged between them, it's hard to keep an eye on either of them, let alone the both of them. You sigh in exasperation, "Of course, you're here, John." 

"I couldn't let you have all the fun, could I?" John stands there, still in full Captain America gear, holding an odd replica of Steve's shield before him. He eerily states, "I couldn't have planned this better myself. You're just the people I was looking for." 

"Couldn't have been creepier if you tried, John," you bitterly quip. "What do you want, John?"

"I want to finish this," John grits. 

"I never meant to kill your friend," Karli offers as a condolence, it's clear to you that she's just as shocked as you are at John's appearance. "I don't want to hurt people who don't matter."

John winces, his grip tightening on his shield, "You think Lemar's life didn't matter?"

Even in the dark night, you swear that you see remorse flash across Karli's face. She shakes her head, "Not to my fight."

"And what about those hostages, Karli? They have families, friends. They matter as much as you do," you bargain with her. 

"Those people?" Karli coldly repeats, still swinging a flame in her hand. "The people that want to take everything from us? Rip away the only homes we've ever had? They matter as much as we do?"

"Karli! Don't do this!" you exclaim, unable to turn to her entirely with John still standing there. You look over your shoulder, shaking your head, "It doesn't have to be this way!"

"I already told you, if you're not with me, you're against me. And I know who you are." Karli's words sound more and more like an accusation. You don't miss the betrayal and hurt that she hurls at you, almost like she no longer believes any good resides within you either. "I know what you stand for. You're no better than them."

"What will killing those people solve, huh? What do you gain?" you ask her.

"And if I let you stop me? I get labeled the bad guy, a danger to society." Karli's voice gets louder and louder, becoming more pointed with every statement. There's a bewilderment in her actions that you know won't be assuaged by any words you have to offer. "I get thrown on the Raft. And you? You get to save the world all over again. You get to be the hero."

"You're not a bad guy." You look between Karli and John. You hold out your hands to each side of you. You finally give in, fully turning to face Karli, "Please, don't let them make you a villain, Karli. Stop this."

John takes the opportunity to strike while you're distracted. He throws the shield, it cuts through the air, striking you in the shoulder. 

You jaggedly hiss, clutching your shoulder at the impact against your injured arm. You swear that you feel the old gunshot wound tear open as the makeshift shield clatters at your feet. 

You look down at the shield, no sturdier than a piece of plywood. And with that, your final thread of patience with John Walker snaps. You glare at it as it ignites on the ground. 

"Did you just throw that at me?" you fume, the shield burning at your feet. 

"General Ross offered me a deal," John tells you as he picks up a piece of disassembled scaffolding. He clenches the metal pipe in his hand, "I give him you and Karli and I get it all back. I get my legacy back."

"The legacy of executing an innocent man?" you rhetorically ask. 

The pipe violently slices through the air. You stumble back, just barely dodging the swing. John's chest heaves with anger, too lost in his own grief to realize that he'd let Karli get away once more, "Lemar's death is gonna mean something. And I'll finally be a hero."

"This is not how you become a hero, you idiot!" you yell, ducking down he swings the pipe at you. 

You spare a glance over to where Karli stood, and just like you suspected, she's gone.

But what shocks you is that she didn't leave without igniting the armored vehicles, it terrifies you that she truly left those people to die. 

"John," you caution as he stands poised to attack. You notice that eerie look in his eye again, but this time, it doesn't just flash in his eyes. It takes him over. "You want to be a hero? Let me help those people."

His eyes flicker to the burning truck, the sounds of panicked, frantic screaming floods his ears. He tentatively nods, allowing you a moment to subdue the flames. The smell of smoke fills the air as you rest your hand on the hood of the armored truck. With a swipe of your hand through the air, the flames begin to smolder out. 

You slowly exhale, the smoke beginning to clear with the gentle breeze you pull in. You turn around with a grateful smile, "Thank-"

Before you can finish speak, John catches you off guard, rushing forward to pin you against the truck. "You are not a hero."

"I never claimed to be," you grunt, pushing back against the pipe as it digs into your clavicle. You know you can't win like this. He's too focused on you, and you'll never get to talk Karli down with John on your tail. And more urgently, you can't save those hostages like this. You need to play this smarter, convince him to let you go for now, "But I'm not what you need to worry about. Karli's gonna get away and you'll never get your shield back. You'll never avenge Lemar's death. You'll never be a hero."

"Shut up," John demands, attempting to pin you again. 

You bend the pipe toward John, relieving all pressure against you. He looks down at the U-shaped pipe with a defeated, bewildered expression, then back to you. "What's more important, John? Me or being a hero?"

John's chest heaves in anger as he breaks away from you. His fists twitch with indecision as he debates his next move. He sucks in a breath, stepping away from you, "You're next."

Those are his last words before he takes off after Karli. Considering her expert evasiveness, you're not worried that he'll find her before you do.

And if you're lucky, he'll run into Bucky or Sam before you have to confront him again. 

You bolt for the back of the armored truck. Holding the hostages inside is a piece of knotted metal pipe wrapped around the door handles. 

You lay your hand on each end of the pipe, prying it open. The pipe groans as you unwind it from the door handles. When it's mostly straightened out, you swipe the pipe away, finally releasing the hostages. You pop the door open, poking your head in, "Is everyone okay?"

In the hot bed of the truck, they waste no time before rushing out for the exit. One by one, you help the hostages down from the truck, taking each of their shaky hands as they scramble back to safety. 

And finally, a woman, the last hostage on the truck, throws her arms around you the moment her feet hit the ground, leaving you a little shocked. She cries, "Thank you, thank you so much!" 

You momentarily stiffen at the unexpected gratitude. You'd become accustom to working in the dark, no one knew who you were, no one knew what you did, no one even knew you existed. It was the definition of a thankless job. You'd always been okay with that. You figured that as long as you left the world a slightly better place, it was all the thanks you needed. That was the only legacy you'd ever need. 

After the moment of shock passes, you return the embrace, she sobs into your shoulder. Though you're the one comforting her, there is something that is equally soothing to you about someone knowing you, about not working in the shadows anymore. You gently comfort her, patting her back, "You're safe now."

The moment you're done guiding the hostages towards the paramedics stationed at the police lines at the end of the street, this never ending night continues with even more chaos.

This time it's Bucky's voice that comes through on the comms, "Was anyone else aware of Walker being here?"

Anger floods your veins, testing the last of your patience for anything John Walker related. You speak through gritted teeth, "Where are you?"

"Construction pit, a block south of the building."

Though you're not sure how, too overcome with anger and frustration, you make it to Bucky in what has to be record time. Fists clenched, nostrils flaring, pain shooting from your once again bleeding wound, you find Bucky standing in an abandoned construction pit.

"Where is he?" you demand the moment you see Bucky.

Bucky's eyes widen, more at the bruise sweeping across your collarbone from John's attack than the building frustration in your tone, "What the hell happened to you?" 

You snap your head over to John, "John Walker happened."

"Hold on!" Bucky interrupts. 

You look up at Bucky with a bewildered expression. Bucky hesitates for a second, stepping between you and John, "He was actually sort of being helpful. Trust me, I hate it as much as you do."

"Ha, even your boyfriend's on my side," John taunts.

"Alright, that's it!" you snap, lunging at him, "Let me at him! Let me at him!" 

"No," Bucky warns, locking his arms around your waist to keep you from charging at John. "He's not worth it."

Bucky holds you firmly against him as your hands violently grab out, your legs kicking out as you try for a single hit, "Just this once. Just one time."

"She's crazy!" John shouts at you. 

"Call her crazy again and I let her go," Bucky sharply threatens.

John's lips snap shut as he glares at you. You grab the hand that rests against your midsection, "Just one hit, James. Just one, I promise."

"As fun as that would be to watch, we've got bigger things to worry about. We've got to get to Karli," Bucky reminds you, his embrace less about restraining you and more about grounding you. "She's not too far gone, right? We can still change how this story ends."

You finally allow yourself to settle, with a long deep breath. You look up at Bucky with a tender smile, "You're right."

"I knew we'd see eye to eye eventually," John remarks. 

You don't respond to John, instead silently glaring at him as you walk away to remove yourself from the situation. 

Bucky steps up to John, speaking in a low, threatening tone, "Make no mistake, Walker, if you fuck her over, if you sell her out, I'll kill you without a second thought."

The muscles in John's clenched jaw tighten, this time, he knows better than to say anything with Bucky staring him down. 

"Hey, guys," you call from the center of the pit. "What exactly was the plan to save the hostages stuck on the scaffolding?"

Bucky jogs back over, refocusing on what they were doing before you stormed over here, "We tried getting up there, but the scaffolding is too unstable. Any movement could tip the truck."

"And the hostages?"

Bucky shakes his head, "Same problem. Sam's dealing with a rogue helicopter, so it's on us for now."

You hear a pained groan from the welded pipes that make up the scaffolding. Even the cool nighttime breeze causes the structure to sway and dislodge the armored truck. 

You step forward, standing directly underneath the collapsing scaffolding, "That thing's coming down any minute. Do we have time to get up there and get them out from the back of the truck?"

Your answer comes with a loud snapping noise above you. The piece of wood lodged against the front wheel finally gives to the weight of the truck, just as the truck is about to tip over the edge, you bolt to the center of the pit, right into the path of destruction. 

"No, don't!" Bucky shouts, sprinting to push you out of the way.

Just as it begins its free fall right on top of you, you stop it. The hood of the truck groans, the metal slightly rippling with the amount of pressure placed on it as you muster every ounce of strength and power you have. 

Bucky freezes before you, his eyes squeezed shut as the shadow off a falling truck hovers over him. After a split second, he creaks an eye open. With no crash before him, his head snaps up to the supernatural sight. 

Above him, above you, the truck floats several yards above. Bucky's jaw drops, eyes comically wide as he looks up with an unabashedly proud smile as the truck levitates mid-air, "Wow."

"Who made armored trucks so heavy?" you complain through gritted teeth, straining as you try to bring down the truck slowly. 

"I think that's the Scarlett Witch!" you hear a civilian shout from behind police lines. 

Though you have no regrets about saving those people, you know from the crowd formed behind you, that you've just sealed your fate. If General Ross didn't see you in Latvia, he was certainly going to catch you now.

You can't focus on your grim fate as the weight of the truck starts to take its toll on you. 

With a low, guttural sound building in the back of your throat, the truck begins its descent to the ground. Slowly, it falls to the ground, landing with a violent squeal of the truck's suspension. 

"No, it's Black Widow!"

"Black Widow doesn't have powers," another stranger argues. 

"No, no! I'm no one, just a random person. No one important," you call back once the wheels of the truck are all firmly planted on the ground. 

"I think Redwing caught that on camera. I know I called you a show off before, but that was insane," Sam beams through the earpiece, a light chuckle embedded in his words. 

"So much for assessing the situation," you laugh in between pants, trying to catch your breath from overexertion. You rest your hands on your knees, muscles burning from tension. 

Overcome with the need to make sure you're okay, Bucky places his arms around your shoulders without a second thought, "Are you alright?"

You nod, muscles still begging you for rest as you stand up, "Yeah, I just need a second."

"You're amazing," Bucky whispers in awe. 

A deeper flush builds on your cheeks, "Thanks."

The breathy tone from his voice continues as he slowly leans closer to you. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your cheek, "I mean that."

You shift your weight to the balls of your heels, "You're pretty - Pretty amazing too, I mean."

He chuckles, his hand glides down from your shoulder, skating down your arm to the palm of your hand. He laces his fingers with your, gently dipping his head down.

"All the hostages are accounted for, guys," Sam announces. You both jolt away at the sound of Sam's voice flooding your ears again, "Now, we find Karli."

"Have I ever said how much I hate Sam?" Bucky frustratedly sighs. 

"No, but I'm starting to get why," you sarcastically remark. 

"You okay?"

You shakily nod, "Yeah, I'm alright, but you should probably go fill John in. The less I have to speak to him, the better."

As Bucky walks over to John, who unloads the hostages from the last truck, you stand off to the side, still desperately trying to catch your breath when something in your peripheral catches your eye.

Amidst the cloud of debris kicked up by the truck, you notice something in the entrance to the underground construction site. 

You look out into the smokescreen to see a cloaked figure standing there. You slowly approach, careful with each footstep to ensure you don't alert them to your presence. 

Unbeknownst to you, a piece of scaffolding lies on the ground before you. Your foot swipes it, sending it clattering further into the garage. 

The figure whirls around, clearly startled at the sight of you. You can't make out their face in the dim light and they don't miss a beat before taking off further into the underground tunnels.

You don't know why, but something possesses you to sprint after them, following them as the smoke screen beings to clear. They sharply turn down the labyrinth of corridors. Over and over again. Over and over again. Over and over again. 

By the time you realize it, you're so far into the underground tunnels you're sure that you're not going to find your way out without help. 

You've almost lost all hope, until you run right into a familiar face, "Sharon?"

"Thank God," Sharon sighs in relief, clutching her midsection in fear. "I've been trying to find you all night. I- I came because I thought you guys could use a hand, but I found Karli first and I didn't think I could take Karli alone so I stayed hidden." Sharon nudges her head in the opposite direction of the corridor you though you saw Karli run through. "She went through there. Batroc too."

"Batroc?" You vaguely recognize the name. "That French guy? Did all bad guys just decide to show up here tonight?"

She chuckles with a nod, "Guess so. I think they might be working together."

Your shoulders dejectedly slump, "Of course they are."

She juts her head down the hallway, pulling out her gun as the two of you begin scanning the abandoned corridor. You walk side by side. She watches your back, you watch hers. The hallway lights flicker above you as you approach the door.

She looks back to you as she takes the door handle. You silently nod, urging her inside. She turns the handle and slowly creaks it open. She slides in first, skating against the wall with you behind her.

Without a word, she points to the right side of the room, you point to the left. 

There's nothing in the room. Nothing at all. No sign of Karli. No sign of anyone having been here recently. 

By the time you've searched your side of the room, you're certain that Karli has once again slipped away. 

"Anything?" Sharon calls. 

"No, I don't see either of them," you shout back, making your way back to the center of the room. You remorsefully sigh as you stand in the center of the room. "No sign of Karli or Batroc."

She drops her gun, smiling at you. It's the first friendly smile you've seen her give you since before you both went on the run, "You know, me and you would make one hell of a team."

You return the smile, "Thanks, Sharon. I think so too."

You stare at the back wall of the room, scaffolding surrounding the area casting all sorts of eerie and creepy shadows all over the room. Your eyes drag over the room once, twice, three times. It just doesn't make sense. If she'd run through here, she'd still be here. There was only one way in this room. 

Only one way in, only one way out. 

Only one way in, only one way out. 

Only one way in, only one way out. 

Chills radiate down your spine and set your nerve endings on fire. It feels like ice cold water is now stuck in your veins. 

Suddenly, everything about tonight hits you all at once. All the chaos. All the panic. All the disconnect. The fact that you're standing alone in a room that no one could ever hope to find you in. Split up from your team. From the only people you know you can trust. 

Trust was a rare commodity, Nick Fury once told you. He also told you to go with your gut. And right now, an uneasy feeling swelled in your gut as you slowly turn to find Sharon Carter standing between you and the only exit route, gun in hand.

Pointed at you. 

"Sharon?"

The Twin Flame Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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[lesserfandomappreciation]

Hey, do you think you could share some headcanons about my favorite daredevil Vinnie from Biker mice from Mars?

Absolutely! This was a fun way to shake off the dust off these writing hands, its been a minute!

--

People don't give Vinnie enough credit when it comes to his smarts- being a demolitions expert is not a job for fools! Those flares he carries around are made by yours truly, thank you very much, and he is always thinking of new ways to work and improve them. Do you think that just anyone can figure out how to consistently demolish a skyscraper without harming any of the nearby buildings? That takes smarts!

"Did'ja see that explosion sweets?! Ahhh to see the look on Limberger's face- it's the only thing that could top it!" Vinnie cackled. he extended an arm up and over S/o''s shoulders, drawing them closer with a quick tug. "Sooo.. any prizes for your favorite mouse?"

Best believe that he's looking for validation from his number one fan. The guys and Charlie are great, but there's something special about his sweetheart's sweet words - it's enough to make a mouse melt!

(This does of course mean that he's also more likely to get into trouble when s/o is around - more chances for praise - so best of luck).

Vinnie's mask is pure metal. Metal has a habit of becoming rather cold during certain winter months. And who is he to not seek warmth for his face by, say, surprising his bros, Charlie and s/o with it. The absolutely menace of a mouse would not hesitate to stick his nose between shoulder blades specifically to see them jolt at the cold mask. It's a hoot!

Got the adrenaline junkie gene from being the youngest sibling. He is the youngest of a large family of mice - you try to stick out from the crowd when there's 7 other people there!

Similarly, got his tendency for bad puns and jokes from being the youngest too. This man is attention-starved and will put on a show just to grab some more.

He does struggle with paying attention. He's not trying to ignore whoever's speaking, there's just a lot on his mind! Explosions to plan, tricks to consider, bets to win, motorcycle rides to map - he'll come back down to Earth and focus between all that at some point.

There's a journal with all his bucket lists and demolition plans. Surprisingly neat hand-writing labels different parts of plans and prototypes, though the scribbles do make it difficult to read at times. He keeps it in his back pocket when he remembers he as it.

[tiredlaoshi]

Is It Finally You?

The world has changed, green mountains were replaced by skyscrapers and urbanization. The seas still washes the sands but unlike before, tourists hang around the beaches. The stars are still up in the sky, but the city lights overpower their glow.

Lan Wangji is walking among men of the present, dressed like them, only that he's more into formal style like he's attending some convention somewhere. Cultivation is now a thing of the past, no, it's now a myth. Gusu, Lan Sect, the rules, and the disciples are long gone. Nobody knows them anymore, except for Lan Wangji who's trapped in this world, he can't die although he has seek for it far too many times.

In his life, people has come and go. His uncle, his brother, his son, all of them but he remained on earth. He has met their reincarnations, or maybe just the same faces as them, not really them. Among these faces he has seen there's one that he's hoping to see again - his Wei Ying. He has never met anyone with the same face as Wei Ying. So, he has thought to himself, is this his penance for turning his back on him before? Has Wei Ying pleaded the gods to not let him see Lan Wangji ever again?

And so, on one of his mundane nights in this city, he was walking along the riverbank not really hoping for anything. There was a commotion ahead of the road, people are circling around to what seems to be an accident, some are calling for help using their phone. Just as Lan Wangji passed not really thinking of paying attention, he didn't know why but he turned his head to gaze on the scene. There he saw the face he was hoping to see in his eternity of existence - Wei Ying is there, no, he can't be sure if it's really his Wei Ying but there's a tug in his heart.

The other man with the same face of Wei Ying, although dizzy and disoriented from the accident, lifted his face and caught Lan Wangji face. He curled his lips, showing the same exact smile Wei Ying has given Lan Wangji. Could it really be him? Is it really Wei Ying? Lan Wangji is just about to approach the guy when paramedics came and took him away, but he's still wearing that same smile directed to Lan Wangji.

[cquity]

Brett found himself in the heart of Sydney, a place vastly different from the small town he'd grown up in. The city's vibrant energy buzzed around him, and towering skyscrapers loomed overhead. He couldn't help but marvel at the urban landscape, a stark contrast to the familiar landscapes of his hometown.

With a backpack slung over his shoulder, Brett strolled down the bustling streets, feeling a blend of excitement and trepidation. The city's rhythm was both exhilarating and overwhelming. He noticed people from all walks of life, each absorbed in their own stories, and the cacophony of sounds filled the air.

Seeking a moment of respite from the bustling streets, Brett's attention was drawn to a quaint coffee shop nestled between larger buildings. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, enticing him to step inside. As the door chimed, he entered the cozy establishment, hoping to find a slice of comfort in this unfamiliar city.

Brett scanned the menu, deliberating over his choice of drink, unaware that in this sprawling city, new adventures awaited him—ones that would challenge his perceptions, redefine his journey, and introduce him to a world far beyond the confines of his hometown.

@totouchthcstars