#calling someone who insults you in front of a crowd the invisible type

[13parkfilter]

Ok I have some thoughts about Arrogance and the perception of arrogance, dissent, reputation, and entrenched power dynamics (ok damn is that enough for u) as it all interacts in WWX’s confrontation with the sects at Nightless City.

I’m obsessed with this scene (aren’t we all?) because it’s not just the only time we get to see Yiling Laozu!WWX let loose (which interestingly is motivated not by anger but by grief, not the subject of this post omg stay focused) but it’s ALSO, because of said grief, the most brutally honest version of this conversation WWX lets himself have with the people who are so angry at him. 

One of the things the people who argue with WWX in this scene throw in his face as a flaw for which they can’t forgive him is his arrogance. We hear this from Sect Leader Yao (ugh) and from the guy who shoots an arrow at him. While the accusation is the same, the dynamics in each of these conversations is very very different.

The first man is a Sect Leader a generation older than WWX, someone who’s closer in age and status to WWX’s adoptive father Jiang Fengmian— i.e. someone who could reasonably be seen as a parental or mentor figure (if he weren’t so clearly full of shit) to the Sunshot generation of cultivators (LWJ, WWX, JC et al). 

Let’s break this down. One of the fascinating things at play in CQL to me is honestly how full of shit the older generation is in how they strategically manipulate, control, reward and punish the younger generation of cultivators, and what behaviors they instill and enforce as a result. They’re the gatekeepers of cultivation society, the ones who decide who to regard as worthy and who to place in positions of leadership and power. There’s an interesting connection here between speech, words, argument, and how people are rewarded and valued. 

Depending on who you ask, the most popular and respected cultivator of the younger generation is either Lan Wangji, who very rarely speaks, much less argues with anyone (yet is still accused of arrogance, a topic for a whole other post lol)— or Lan Xichen, who as we all know has the patience of a saint, and will set aside his own principles to drink alcohol at the command of a rude asshole at a banquet without argument if it keeps the peace. Meanwhile the most reviled cultivator of their generation is WWX, the person who talks the most, argues the most, and rarely if ever bends to a command from the older generation if he can think of a valid argument against it. If the Twin Jades care the most about deference, respect of elders and the appearance of civility, WWX is the person who openly flouts these things the most. 

Here’s what adults won’t tell you when you’re young: Valuing yourself and your own perspective isn’t arrogance. Refusing to downplay or disregard your own sense of your worth is also not arrogance. 

The thing is, people project their greatest weaknesses, the flaws they hate the most in themselves, onto others— that’s what a scapegoat is— and one of the most common follies of age is refusing to trust the wisdom of the young, and not being able to see when a system they’ve perpetuated and come to rely on is deeply flawed and needs to change, and may even need to be pulled up by its roots. 

That’s what I see, and what I think about, when Sect Leader Yao calls Wei Wuxian arrogant. 

But I see something different when the young, no-name cultivator with the arrow calls WWX arrogant (lmao I’m finally getting to the main point! From those pictures up top!!)— and that has to do with reputation, what happens when you become a public figure and what it means for an anon to call WWX, one of the most talked-about cultivators of his generation, arrogant. 

This is where the connection to LWJ being called arrogant by Su She comes in. It’s the same feeling as the young archer, right? Like, who’s this asshole? These are both characters who have a problem with hero worship, characters who instead of following their own sense of what they should or shouldn’t do, base their actions (and in Su She’s case his entire public persona lol) around first imitating and then rejecting someone they admire but don’t fully understand. 

This is very different from the clear-eyed, open-hearted hero worship the juniors come to develop for WWX. We see their regard for him develop slowly, over time spent interacting with him directly and by closely observing his actions, as well as openly questioning his actions when they don’t understand the motivations behind them. We see them each come to their own assessments of his flaws, to see how what seems like a flaw in one situation can be an asset in another, and that you can’t have the brilliance without the fire, so to speak. 

We don’t get that with Su She or the young archer. These characters are distant from the objects of their interest, and the judgments that they pass happen in the realm of public opinion, based on incomplete information, public perception, and rumors. They confuse the image for the real thing. They look at WWX and only see the arrogant, heartless Yiling Laozu; they look at LWJ and only see the cold, untouchable Hanguang Jun. The juniors arguably hero-worship both of these characters as well, but they also have personal knowledge of them that they’ve learned how to integrate into their full image of each man as a complex human being with flaws and contradictions. What I’m trying to say is, this is why we see Jingyi giving WWX shit and then turning around to defend him to sect leaders in the same breath, while the archer at Nightless City is only interested in shooting WWX out of the sky.

WWX knows this intuitively— there’s nothing he can do to make that kid give him a chance. He’s not interested in why WWX made the decisions he did, he’s only interested in condemning him for not being whoever he made him out to be in his mind without ever really knowing him as a person. WWX understands in this moment what it means to have the reputation that he does, and also knows that this kid will never know what it’s like to be on the other side of that, because his safety is in his anonymity, and he’s able to pass judgment without taking any risks of his own. He’s the invisible type— until he shoots WWX that is, and is killed by him in turn, an action which no one present can accept. We expect great humility and inhuman forbearance from people whose public image has become larger than life. WWX responded as a person whose life was threatened, and everyone else saw the Yiling Laozu, wreathed in power and notoriety, striking down a nameless young man who looked up to him but was more than happy to condemn him. 

In spite of being called arrogant again and again, WWX always does his best to upset power dynamics— to treat people higher (and lower) than him as equals, and to insist that they interact as people capable of understanding each other, not as symbolic beings hiding behind titles and courtesy names, or behind the power of their sect. 

I’m tired so in conclusion: this is why I stan Lan Jingyi, the loudest and most brutally honest member of his own generation.

[gardenergulfie]

Emptober Day 4: Ribbon

Rating: G

Word Count: 2539

Relationships: Jimmy | Solidarity/Scott | Smajor1995 | Dangthatsalongname

Characters: Scott | Smajor1995 | Dangthatsalongname, Jimmy | Solidarity

Tags:Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Red String of Fate, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Past Lives, Alternate Universe - Empires SMP Setting (Video Blogging RPF), Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, Bickering, Flower Husbands, Emptober, Seablings, 

Everything was normal with it until the day he met the other rulers. It was a political meeting of nations, the first time all of them would all be together in years. Rivendell was hosting it and it would be Jimmy’s first time out of the kingdom. Jimmy and Lizzie were representing the Ocean Empire as heirs but they were allowed to meet and greet with whoever they wanted. Lizzie quickly ran off, introducing herself to the Mezalean prince and leaving Jimmy to flounder alone. He gripped the ribbon between his fingers nervously but took a deep breath and approached the first person he could see. That person was a winged elf with blue hair and a very aloof expression.

Emptober Day 4: Ribbon

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AO3 Link

Fic below the cut

Jimmy was a pretty normal guy. I mean he was the leader of an empire but compared to the other leaders and even his own citizens he was normal, maybe even average. Just a pretty basic dude. But Jimmy had something, a part of him, that was very not normal. It was a ribbon tied around his left wrist. It was green and blue with a design of red flowers that Jimmy had never seen before. The ribbon had one end constantly trailing out of sight. It had been there for as long as he could remember and strangely enough, seemingly no-one else could see it.

When Jimmy was little he tried out some tests with the ribbon. He found out that he couldn’t tangle it, he couldn’t trip people with it, he couldn’t hang things on it, it didn’t interact with water like most fabrics did, it was just intangible to anyone or anything but Jimmy. He’d told his sister Lizzie about it but she didn’t have one and she couldn’t see or feel it. He’d even gone to the local library to do research on it which did make the bookkeeper give him a strange look, he’d never been one for academics before but he just needed to know. He found nothing but some sappy love stories about people with invisible red strings of fate that connected them to their one true love. Jimmy didn’t really believe these stories, besides he had a ribbon not a string.

Once or twice in his life Jimmy had felt a tug on the ribbon. It felt like a person on the other end of it had pulled on it. Was there someone also connected to him? Were those stories about strings of fate true? Jimmy followed the ribbon for a long time, only stopping when he realized that he was at the edge of the kingdom. If there was a person on the other end, they weren’t from his home empire.

For a while that was it. Nothing new could be found out about the ribbon and so Jimmy resigned himself to it just being a mystery forever. On the plus side, he didn’t really mind it that much. It didn’t hurt him or get stuck on anything which was nice and it was a nice texture. Sometimes when he was anxious or just restless he would twist it between his fingers and fidget with it. He got some strange looks, fidgeting with nothing, but it wasn’t that weird so no-one really questioned him.

Everything was normal with it until the day he met the other rulers. It was a political meeting of nations, the first time all of them would all be together in years. Rivendell was hosting it and it would be Jimmy’s first time out of the kingdom. Jimmy and Lizzie were representing the Ocean Empire as heirs but they were allowed to meet and greet with whoever they wanted. Lizzie quickly ran off, introducing herself to the Mezalean prince and leaving Jimmy to flounder alone. He gripped the ribbon between his fingers nervously but took a deep breath and approached the first person he could see. That person was a winged elf with blue hair and a very aloof expression.

“Hello! I’m Jimmy Solidarity of the Ocean Empire!” He said to the elf, his voice coming out louder than he intended from nerves. He winced as the elf turned to him with a mildly peeved expression.

“Scott Smajor, heir of Rivendell.” The elf said coldly. He assessed Jimmy lazily but his eyes stopped on Jimmy’s left hand, the one holding the ribbon. His cold mask dropped and Jimmy could see an expression of shock and mild intrigue before it went back up. “I’ve never spoken to a citizen of the ocean empire. Are you all this small? It's kinda cute” Jimmy bristled a bit at the insult? Flirt? He couldn’t tell but he knew enough to be offended.

“Not all of us can be as tall as elves. I am quite a normal height! And I’m not cute.” Jimmy snapped back. Scott looked briefly surprised at his retort but then smirked.

“Not cute you say? That adorable pout on your face says otherwise.” Scott says, lifting his hand to gesture at Jimmy’s expression. A hand that had a blue green and red flower patterned ribbon tied around it. The same ribbon that existed around Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy’s eyes widened and he looked at his own ribbon. Sure enough, they were connected. So there was a person on the other end of it and Jimmy had found them. But Scott? Really? This ribbon better not be one of those soul things, he does not want to be bonded to that rude elf.

Jimmy realized that he should probably respond to Scott. He’s been standing silently for about a minute now and Scott was surly waiting for him to say something.

“I wasn’t pouting! I was upset at being called cute. Not everyone likes random strangers calling them cute, you know.” Jimmy says back. Scott looks thoughtful.

“I don’t know. If a pretty boy like you walked up to me and called me cute, I don’t think I’d be complaining.” The elf says back. Jimmy sputters as he tries to think of a response. He really wasn’t someone who got flirted with often, even as a joke, and it was very disarming.

“Well I’m not you so I care.” He says back with his face bright red. He knew it wasn’t the best comeback and from Scott’s smug expression he could tell it hadn’t hit the mark he was aiming for.

“Right sure.” Scott says with an eye roll. “This conversation’s being nowhere and I already won it so why don’t we talk about something else. I could take you on a tour? I don’t think you fishfolk get the chance to see elven architecture often.” Jimmy once again bristled at Scott’s mild insult but agreed to the tour. Scott led Jimmy away from the front hall and outside into Rivendell proper. Jimmy wouldn’t admit it but Scott was a pretty good tour guide, he knew a lot about the kingdom’s history and culture and was good at talking about it, even if he still flirted and insulted Jimmy quite often. Scott showed Jimmy the sheep pens, the owl roost, and apiary, all places that Jimmy had only seen glimpses of during the trip here.

In the apiary Jimmy saw something. A red flower, identical to the ones on his ribbon. He called Scott over, asking what kind of flower that was. Scott glanced over and when he saw the red flower Jimmy was talking about he briefly touched the ribbon tied to his own hand before answering.

“Its a poppy. They’re a common flower and grow in most places. You haven’t seen one before?” The elf asked. Jimmy shook his head.

“I don’t think they grow in the swamps. I would have remembered seeing a flower this red before.” Jimmy gently touched a petal of the flower. It was beautiful and it made Jimmy feel…. weirdly bittersweet? It was just a flower. Why did Jimmy feel like crying then? He blinked away the tears that were forming and backed away from the flower. Scott was giving him an odd searching look.

“It's my favorite kind of flower.” Scott said at last. “I always make sure there’s at least one in the apiary at all times.” Jimmy was surprised at this personal info that Scott was just telling him. Scott hadn’t talked much about himself, mostly speaking about the elves and their great kingdom. Him just dropping this strange piece of personal information seems out of pace and it made Jimmy wonder why he did it. The elf was still looking at him, waiting for Jimmy to say something in return.

“It really is lovely.” Jimmy responded. “Does it have any special meanings?” Jimmy had heard of flowers having special meaning attached to them though he hadn’t learned much about them. Lizzie had but not him.

“Sleep, peace, and death are what the poppy represents.” Scott says, unconsciously tugging on the ribbon. Jimmy felt that tug, just more proof that they were connected. Sleep, peace, and death were strange meanings for the flowers on his ribbon. Maybe the type of flower didn’t mean anything but it's a magic ribbon so that was unlikely. Jimmy was hoping that his flowers meant peace or maybe sleep, death was something he’d really not want to be tied with.

Scott had been looking more and more nervous the more Jimmy thought. The elf was trying to hide it but the fluttering of his wings and shuffling of his feet gave him away. Jimmy was about to ask him about the problem when a loud gong rang across the city.

“That's the feast bell. They’re about to start dinner.” Scott says, moving towards the door to the apiary. “We need to go quickly so we’re not late.” Jimmy let the topic of Scott’s anxiety around him drop and the two rushed towards the main hall. They were separated in the crowd when they got there, Jimmy being reunited with Lizzie who asked him where he was and introduced him to her new friend Joel. Jimmy didn’t see Scott for the rest of the night, only briefly catching a glimpse of him when it was time for him to leave.

Jimmy met Scott quite a few times over the course of many years, the two becoming rulers of their own nations, Scott in Rivendell and Jimmy in the newly formed Cod Empire. They maintained a similar relationship as they had when they were young, Scott teasing and flirting with Jimmy and Jimmy getting flustered and firing back with his own bad insults. Neither of them brought up the topic of the ribbon though Jimmy was pretty sure that Scott knew at this point. The many glances at Jimmy’s left wrist was a pretty big clue to that.

Years past, Jimmy and Scott were still leading their empires and occasionally bickering with each other. The demon plagued them for a bit and in that time they became allies in a very strange way, Scott taking Jimmy on a date. The many poppies around the date place was a nice reference to the ribbon and a knowing look from Jimmy let Scott know he knew what was up. It took a couple more suggested dates for Jimmy to realize that the date wasn’t one of Scott’s normal flirts but that Scott was actually interested in him. The two took it slow, going on quite a few more dates before they were ready to speak of the ribbon out-loud.

Jimmy remembered it as a chilly evening, the two of them drinking warm tea inside of Jimmy’s house. Scott had made the excuse of it being too cold back home and that the swamp was just much warmer but Jimmy knew the elf at this point to know that Scott wanted to spend time with him. They had done some baking following a simple recipe that somehow they still managed to mess up and then salvage at the last minute. Now with a mug of tea in hand and slightly burnt cookies on a plate in front of him, Jimmy was feeling brave. He tugged on the ribbon once then twice when Scott didn’t look over from his cup of tea. The second tug caught the elf’s attention and he looked down at the ribbon resting beside them both.

“I think at this point we both know about the existence of this,” Jimmy waved his own end of the ribbon, “and the fact that it connects them. I don’t know about you but we’ve been dating for a bit. We might as well talk about it.” Scott blinked in surprise at the question coming from seemingly nowhere but nodded at set down his drink.

“I was wondering when one of us was going to be brave enough to bring up the soul ribbon.” Scott said. “I’d have thought you would have blurted the question out way before now.” Scott teased with a small smirk. Jimmy let the insult flirt fly over his head, mostly focused on the words soul ribbon.

“Wait, the soul ribbon is like a string of fate? The stuff from those love stories?” Jimmy asked. Scott looked confused at the question.

“Wait, you mean you don’t know about soul ribbons? They’re real and way more than just stories. We’re kind of living proof of that.” Scott said. Jimmy leaned back in his chair a bit more.

“The only information I found about anything similar to the ribbon was stories about red strings of fate that connect people destined to be together. They were just fiction I thought but you’re saying that it’s really real. We’re soulmates?” Jimmy asks.

“Soul ribbons are a bit more complicated than just the idea of fated couples. They’re broken promises from a past life. When two people promise to stay together but something happens where they promise is broken, the universe will step in and give them another chance. Hence, the soul ribbon.” Scott explains. “The pattern of the ribbon normally has some kind of meaning relating to the past life. Soul ribbons can’t really be studied but there have been enough cases that people are now pretty sure of their meaning.”

“So in another life, we made a promise to each other but it got broken? And poppies were important to us?” Jimmy questioned. “Well that explains why I feel so happy and sad at the same time when I see a poppy. Past life emotions, huh.” Scott reached out and took a cookie with one hand and Jimmy's own hand with another.

“I understand if this is a lot to take in.” Scott bit his lip, looking anxious. “Again, the soul ribbon doesn’t mean that we have to be together. It’s just the universe giving us a second chance. So if this is too much for you we don’t have to keep dating-“

“What? Scott no. I don’t want to stop dating. It’s strange, yeah, but I mean I already knew we were connected. This doesn’t have to change anything for us! I’m happy to know how we’re connected, this solves a mystery I’ve always been wondering about. I mean, better lovers in a past life than fated enemies in this one.” Jimmy said passionately, laughing a bit at his own joke at the end. Scott’s face brightened up and he smiled back at Jimmy.

“Was that one of your theories? Fated enemies?” Scott chuckled as he took a bite of his cookie. Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck bashfully with his free hand.

“I mean we were always bickering. It wasn’t too strange of an idea.” Jimmy defended himself.

The two of them continued to talk for quite a few more hours before they eventually fell asleep together, bundled up under a quilt. Their hands were intertwined, the two ends of the ribbons brushing against each other. The universe looked down at these second chance souls and felt pride. They really had found each other again.

[writingsfromhome]

Invisible Load

A/N: This one deals with your heavy past and a very annoying (but tempting) present

T/W: Mentions of abuse

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"You're in my space," you huff as Harry, once again, crowds you.

"Well we're trying to fit into frame!" Harry points to the automatic camera just as the flash goes off. "Great, look what you've done."

It's hard to take him seriously when he wears a blonde wig and a fake moustache. You move your elbow in front of him and pose in time for the last picture. The group rushes to the laptop to see it.

It was July 4th weekend and you were invited to your one of your friend's big weekend party she was throwing. You didn't realise a particular English artist would be in attendance. If you knew, you would have come up with at least five solid excuses.

You've worked with Harry professionally in the past, helping write some of his songs. But he had a habit of rubbing you the wrong way, having a counterargument for everything you said or thought just because he was a good looking member of the male species, he thought the world revolved around him.

You go over and look at the photos. They're funny except for the one where Harry and you are glaring at each other.

"I think it's cute," Harry says from behind, directly into your ear and you can't help but flinch. If he notices, he doesn't say, he just continues. "The way the camera caught us flirting like that."

"If this is the way you flirt," you look over at him. "It's no wonder you're single."

That sets Harry off laughing. You make eye contact with your friends and they give you the look like cut the tension and just sleep with him already. You roll your eyes. All your friends were convinced the constant arguing was just sexual tension but you disagreed. You just hated cocky guys like Harry.

***

The sun beats down on the party late afternoon and everyone crowds in the shade. For someone who was stuck in studios most days and nights, you relished under the sun. You let the cotton dress slip off as you undo the buttons and lay on a lawn chair, your skin warms under the sun.

"What a vision," you hear Harry say, you can feel his eyes on you. Ugh, you hated the way he made you want to cover yourself immediately.

"That would be a compliment coming from anyone but you," you mutter back. You don't realise how close he was because he actually hears you.

"Maybe you can't take a compliment."

You squint against the sun, Harry sits on the chair beside you. He'd also taken off his shirt and mimics the way you lay. Couldn't he leave you alone for a second?

"Maybe you need to give better compliments," you lay back down. You could ignore him.

"This is nice!" Harry says. "It's like we're in our London studio all over again,"

"This isn't nice and I don't miss it," you remember all the bickering and him wanting to change anything you suggested. "You shitted on everything I suggested."

"Because it didn't fit my brand," Harry says simply. You sit up again, leaning on your elbows to stare at him. He was being serious.

"Your brand," you scoff.

"Yeah," Harry finally sits up himself and eyes you. "Mysterious, sexy, yet fun."

"Sounds more like a magician," you say.

"A magician?" Harry swings his legs to the floor. "A magician?!"

You shrug.

"A magician..." he mutters to himself. You smirk, you managed to get under his skin. But you wipe the smile off as soon as he asks, "Well how's your work going?"

You think about how you haven't written a decent thing in months. "Okay."

"What does that mean? You miss me and my magic?"

The way he could take your insults and turn them back into jokes on you irritated you. But you don't show it. You just lay with your eyes closed and respond, "You're the last thing I miss-get that clear. But I haven't really written anything I like recently."

"Writer's block?" Harry asks.

"No, I don't get writer's block. I've been writing for as long as I could remember."

"You've never had writer's block?" Harry didn't believe you and his accusations force you to sit up and face him.

"No, and I don't have it now." You would never admit it but those two words scared you. "I'm just...stuck."

"Well I can help you through 'being stuck'...say, over dinner?" Harry offers.

"How about over my dead body?" You shoot back. You weren't about to spill your heart out to him just to have him argue everything you say and humiliate you.

"Waste of a good body if you ask me," Harry smiles like he knew exactly what his comments were doing.

"Why do I even bother," you glare.

"I heard the best way of getting over being 'stuck' is just relaxing. I know a few ways to help you relax."

"Oh I bet you say that to all the girls." You cross your arms over your body, suddenly conscious of how much of you Harry was eyeing.

"I've got plenty of songs written about me. It's proof I've unstuck them."

"The talent's all theirs Styles, don't take credit."

"I only take credit where I'm owed." Harry shifts from his chair to yours. You use your feet to push him off.

"Harry!" Someone from the pool calls out. "Come here and show Ben the thing you did earlier."

"Duty calls," Harry lifts your hand to his lips but you manage to snatch it away before he could kiss it. You don't admit the thought had sent your heart racing.

***

Later that night on the beach, your group of friends, plus Harry, watch the fireworks. They move closer to the show going on down the beach but you stay closer to home for now, just taking in the night.

You stare in awe despite seeing them every year, you imagine soaring up to the sky like they did, just to explode in a kaleidoscope of colours. How freeing it seemed. A burst of temporary colours for people's enjoyment, then fading into dark. It was also sort of sad. You wouldn't mind being one of them.

"I thought this was a happy moment," Harry somehow finds his way to you.

"Who said I'm not happy?" You ask, the crackling in the sky above.

Harry turns his camera to you, he'd taken a sneaky photo of you. You never thought of yourself as photogenic but he managed to capture the exact mood you were feeling in the moment. Your head is tilted to the sky, a thoughtful expression on, the can in your hand pressed against your chest, your other hand draped across your waist. The sky above is flecked with colours.

"You've got a good eye but please delete that," you still say. You didn't want your pictures on his phone, who knows what he did with them.

"It's an amazing shot," Harry compliments himself. "And I'm keeping it. It's not like this is the only picture of you on my phone."

"What does that mean?" You try to snatch the phone but he dances away.

"I have loads of you on this," he holds his phone up high. You try to grab his arm to bring it down but he switches arms and begins scrolling.

"You don't have!" You jump for it but he's too tall. "My permission!"

"This isn't the bloody Oscars I don't need a disclosure," Harry laughs as he finds what he's looking for and shows you. It's a photo of you sleeping, a close up of your open mouth. You see red.

"Harry!" You give one final warning before launching at him to grab the phone. He twirls away and dodges your every move. "When did you even take that!"

He's too busy laughing as he runs along the waterline. You'd like to push him into the water to get rid of those photos.

"At the studio, last year," he continues dodging you. "You fell asleep after a late night. I had to! In case I needed blackmail. I also have this!"

He pulls up another and from where you stand it's your face mid-sneeze. The cocky bastard!

"I am going to shove my foot so far up your ass!" You charge at him and he continues running away.

"Didn't take you for the kinky type!" He has to stop as the sandy beach gives way to the forest. He bounces on his feet, his eyes on your approaching figure.

"You're one of the most self-centered, egotistical, pieces of shit I have ever met!" You make a final lunge for him and crash into his body as he stays in place. Although you manage to grab hold of the phone, your loss of balance sends you tumbling back and the phone is flung from your hand into the forest behind him.

The breath leaves your body as it connects with the sand and Harry barely catches himself over you as he falls on top. His hands are on either side of you, your heaving chest touches his everytime you take a breath. Being under him like this made it harder to breathe normally.

"I've dreamnt about this," he grins down at you. You shove him but he's rooted in place. He untangles your legs from his. "Now where is my phone?"

In the fall you forgot you'd accidentally tossed it. You look up wide-eyed and he stares. "Y/N! My phone?"

"I sort of...maybe...accidentally tossed it that way?" You point to the dark shrubbery. He turns and swears. Your heart pumps intensely, the blood rushing to your head as you anticipate his rage. He turns around, his eyebrows drawn and he raises his hands above his head. You flinch and squeeze your eyes shut.

But nothing comes.

"Hey," Harry says softly. You feel the pressure of him leave your torso and you peek one eye open. He's sitting next to you, a look of concern on his face.

You swallow the lump in your throat, mortified as you realise how triggered your response was. You see the pity in his eyes and feel the pinpricks in your own.

"I'll help you look," you mumble, standing up to brush the sand off of you. You didn't want to wait for him to pretend to be nice. You just whip out your phone's flashlight and watch your step.

"Y/N," Harry calls out to you. You hear him approaching, hesitation in every move he makes. "I'm not angry at you. At all."

"That's great," you put on your tough face again—that was the only way people couldn't find out what a broken mess you were inside. "That's not going to help me look for the phone."

"The phone doesn't matter just wait, look at me for a second."

"I have to look for the phone," you repeat, your eyes searching the bushes.

"Y/N," he says sharply. You curse your own reflexes as you flinch again, finally turning to look at Harry with what you hope looks like a death glare. You raise your eyebrow when he just stares. "Sorry I didn't mean to call your name like that. I was just surprised. And...I wasn't going to hurt you or anything."

"Thanks," you dismiss him with an eye roll. You turn back to your search. You were glad the flashlight was pointed to the floor and not your face because you could feel the tears slip down and make trails proving how weak you were. In front of a dick like Harry Styles.

You finally see the glint a little further in and go to it, using the time to wipe your face before returning it to him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to toss it." You sound distant, even to your own ears.

"I'll delete the pictures," Harry says from behind you as you speed walk down the coast towards your friends.

"Whatever," you say over your shoulder. It didn't even matter anymore.

***

You wake up early, before anyone was up. It’s not like your racing mind let you really sleep at all.

The cool morning breeze is a welcome feeling on your tired body, and you brew a pot of coffee, the rich smell adding to the morning ambience.

You decide to take your coffee down to the beach but realise a figure swimming in the waters. You recognise Harry's worn out tshirt and shoes on the sand. He doesn't seem to notice you so you settle down and watch the sun slowly make it's way over the horizon.

"Where's mine?" Harry walks up to you after his swim, dripping wet and making sure he splashes you with the droplets from his hair. He lays out the towel he brought and collapses on top of it.

"You could dry your hair instead of dripping all over me," you glare at him. You see the sparkle in his eye—he was going to turn your words into something dirty. But when you make eye contact, he knows you know and that seems to be enough for him. He just grins and holds out his hand, you pass him your cup.

"Holy hell Y/N, this coffee's pure sugar," he hands the cup back. "How the bloody hell do you manage that?"

"That's because it's as sweet as me," you shoot back. "I don't know how you drink yours without it."

"The only way to enjoy a good cup of-"

"Do you want more or not?" You cut him off. He knows what's best for him, cutting his monologue short and accepting the cup. You decide to give over the whole thing and just enjoy the sunrise, surprisingly, Harry stays silent beside you. The two of you watching in silence.

Eventually, you lean back onto the sand and close your eyes, the morning rays kissing you good morning. When you open your eyes, Harry is propped up watching you.

"Do you mind?" You ask, but for once he doesn't look like he's going to bother you. You remember yesterday, cringe, he was probably just taking pity on you again.

"I do actually," he gets off his elbow and sits up. "I do mind."

A minute passes, then another. "Just spit it out!" You finally say. "I'm not taking part in your dramatics."

"Okay," Harry stares right into your soul. "I mind that a wonderful woman like you thought I was going to...to hit her yesterday when I was just showing my exasperation. I mind that someone as strong as you has to put on a brave face like you do.”

Oh my god. He really said that. You were mortified but also, touched. Then the thought creeps in again...he just felt sorry for you.

"Exasperated," you quote. "That's a big word coming from you."

He frowns. "You don't have to make a joke."

"You don't have to worry," you sit up. "I'm perfectly fine. I'm not some pet project you have to pity alright? I flinched! People flinch all the time! Don't read into it."

“Okay I know I push all your buttons," Harry's words come rushing out. "I like to banter with you and tease you and watch you roll your eyes at me or try to come up with a good comeback. But I respect you enough to recognise you probably been through some shite. And I would think you respect me enough not to feed me some BS story.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you knew how cruel your words sounded but you couldn’t stop. “I don’t have any respect for you! You’ve never given me a good reason to. You are always pushing my buttons and every time I’ve ever worked with you, you’ve just made me feel small and shot down every single one of my ideas. The way I react is none of your damn business, you don’t need to psychoanalye what I’ve been through and I don’t need any of your pity. Even if you mask it as respect or whatever.”

You run out of steam as Harry’s face slams shut. You never wanted to be cruel, it was a toxic cycle to get roped into but all you could do now is just turn back to the house. You’d said more than you meant.

***

You push around breakfast, claiming a stomach ache and stay in your room for most of the day. Actually, the guilt of what you said eats away at you. You knew what it felt like to be shouted at like that, taunted, and broken down. Maybe your flinch was a reaction from broken relationships. Relationship. But the way Harry treated you, reminded you of someone you knew.

But you knew deep down you couldn’t project your past onto everyone. And that’s the one thought that pulls you out of bed and down to the pool.

“Anyone see Harry?” You ask as you scan the crowd for him.

“I think he’s still in bed. Said he had a killer hangover,” someone lets you know.

You go up to his room and knock lightly but no response. You knock again, try the lock, but still no response. You go back to your room.

You collapse under the weight of the guilt, shame, and misplaced anger. It wasn’t fair, just when you think you moved on, you fall into the same patterns.

Something pushes you to get your notebook and begin writing; page after page you pour out everything you’d been supressing for the last year. Your hand cramps and the ink runs out but you move to your phone and continue the onpour of everything you’ve ever wanted to say. By the end of it, the sun is starting to set, and you smile through the blurry vision and the aching hands. You had so much to work with—you were finally writing again! Now It was time to try Harry.

His room door is ajar when you walk past, maybe he joined the party down on the beach. You grab some of the pizza laying on the kitchen island and make your way down.

Harry stokes the bonfire, talking to a few friends around him. You sit opposite him and just watch as he listens attentively to what someone else is saying, how he throws his head back and laughs. How he wasn’t a bad guy—the villain you painted him out to be in your head. He was just human, and so were you. And...there was something between you two that you were afraid of diving into again so you just let your past take over.

Harry finally looks up and notices you. He hesitates and you tilt your head to the right. He understands.

You walk over away from the light of the bonfire and sit down. Harry joins you a few minutes later in the sand.

“I’ve started writing again,” you say to break the ice.

“That’s good.” Harry doesn’t give much. You take a deep breath, he wasn’t going to make this very easy.

“Yeah...so, Harry, I said some shitty things and I’m really sorry.” You take a deep breath. “I was scared, and projecting my past onto you. And you didn’t deserve that. Even though you’re a a jerk sometimes, you didn’t deserve that.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Just staring out at the setting sun glimmering on the water. Finally, he bumps his shoulder into yours and you look at him, curious. But he just smiles, unguarded and unusually kind. “I did sort of deserve it. I give you a hard time so But you don’t deserve whatever happened in your past. And you don’t deserve carrying it around all the time-“

“Tell me about it,” you huff. “My back aches carrying it with me all the time.”

“Let me help,” Harry gets on his knees and pretends to lift something off your back. He struggles, groaning as he leans back with it.

“I should unstrap it from my shoulders first,” you state.

“Oh, duh!” He watches you unstrap the invisible load. Then he stands up and pretends to lift from the bottom. “Some help?” He asks.

You go opposite him and pretend to lift from the bottom. As you two straighten out, you can’t help the grin you give him. “The ocean?” He asks as you suggest: “the ocean?”

The two of you make an exaggerated show of staggering to the shore and tossing it in. He shields his eyes, watching the load drift off to sea.

“How does it feel?” He turns to you. It felt like a whole new world, it was silly but you felt lighter. Just inviting him into your world, made you feel a little less alone.

“Like a fresh start,” you finally say. “I’m letting go.”

“Didn’t I tell you I knew ways to make a girl relax?” He grins. You push him but it’s playful, the smile on your own face never leaves. When his face grows serious, you freeze.

“What?” You ask.

“Can I kiss you?”

You blink, he’s still standing waiting. And you didn’t realise how long you’d been waiting for this. You just nod, your body pumping every ounce of blood straight into your head. When he steps forward, he doesn’t do anything too sudden. He just wraps his arms around you, keeping eye contact, his nose gently bumping against yours. You smile, suddenly wanting to hide, he kisses the corner of your smile before making sure you were okay with it. Then he grabs your face, you close your eyes and let him kiss you. It tastes like wood smoke and pizza and the sea. But most of all, it tasted happy.

“You’re okay?” He asks.

“I am,” you drape your arms around him. “Finally.”

“Is it finally time?” You hear a shout from your friends. It felt like your own private world so you forgot everyone could see you two. But when you turn around everyone is just as excited as you felt.

“Finally no more sexual tension!” One of your friends says.

“We’d all better find some earplugs for tonight.”

“The Y/N and Harry train can finally leave the station.”

“And it’s riding all night long,” the group laughs.

“I think that’s enough,” Harry laughs, leading you back to the group but you’re both thoroughly embarassed, Harry just does a better job at changing the subject.

“I told you so,” my friend winks when you walk to up her.

“You did,” you say as you look out to Harry. He’s talking to someone else but his eyes never leave you.

He finds you later, kisses you without a care to what anybody would say. Then he whispers in your ear, “what do you say about starting the train ahead of schedule?”

The blood rushes to your face but for once you don’t scold him, instead you grab his hand. “We should go while everyone’s distracted.”

As the two you inch towards the house, Harry says, “See what happens when we put our minds together?”

“The way you like it?” You ask. “According to your brand?”

“Yeah, you called me a magician. Now I’ll show you how I make the magic happen.”

You groan at his joke as he runs the rest of the way in, racing to the bedroom. You stumble behind and feel weightless as you collapse into bed and finally give in to everything you ever wanted.

It was liberating.

[gainaxvel3o]

A Miraculous Tale of Rubybug and Cat Blake Chapter 5

Previous / First / Next

Watts up, Doc?

“Two of my pawns have been taken out of the board.”

Monarch paced around the room. Her face was framed by the purple light coming from the little butterflies surrounding her. Nooro’s magic felt wondrous to be around, intoxicating in it’s warmth, even corrupted by dark desire. “Tyrian Callows nearly succeeded in killing the champions,” Monarch spoke. “His pride got to him, but if trained well he would have made a proud Huntsman for me. The downside of involving the police in affairs. They let a body go to waste.”

She felt a shiver down her body. Poor Nooro… he continued to fight against her even knowing he didn’t have a chance. Such a small, whiny, pathetic little thing. Behaviors more suited to children than an ancient powerful being that of creation. Many myths would be destroyed by simply observing the Kwamis.

“I will need someone smarter. Wiser. A person susceptible to my power, who will be able to calculate the most efficient path to success.”

She closed her eyes. Butterflies were everywhere in the city, dismissed by most as just little flying insects interrupting their path. They didn’t know the butterflies could hear the whispers underneath their breath, the thoughts they hold back every waking moment…

Her eyes flashed red, her sclera briefly turning black.

“Yes… he will bring me the Miraculous!”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The first thing Blake Belladonna did when she woke up was brush her teeth.

The second thing she did was inspect her eyes in the mirror. She noticed the small circles forming under them. It had been difficult for her to find sleep for any given week. It only got worse since the other day, when she fought alongside Ladybug, against Scorpio.

“YOU TOOK AWAY MY POWER! I WAS SCORPIO! I AM SCOR-“

A loud ringing noise.

There was no peace in his eyes. Only shock.

“If you move then you’re gonna end up like him. Get down!”

“NINJA VANISH!”

Blake had heard about incidents like these. The police firing when they didn’t need to, against someone they shouldn’t have. Tyrian Callows was a murderer. There should be no guilt in his death. Even so, being in the moment when it happened, the bullet firing… that caught her off guard.

She wondered about Ladybug, imagining if her lady was having nightmares like she did. She wondered how she was able to cope with the death of a man, even if it wasn’t her fault.

“What’s been buggin’ you, gloomy cat?” Blake sighed. “Plagg.” “You gonna tell me?” The little cat Kwami grinned wildly. “Do I gotta be a bad kitty?”

“Do what you want. It is irrelevant to me.”

Blake swiped some locks of her hair away from her face. She closed her eyes, breathing in. “I hope Ladybug is okay. The fight the other day was intense.” “No need to worry. Tikki picks her champions well. No doubt she’s bounced back and ready to go, good as new as can be.”

“That’s a relief.”

It was. Ladybug came across as naive and nervous every time Blake met her. Skilled yes, but nearly always in trouble every time Blake arrived. Blake admired the girl’s spirit, but knew that she would need plenty of help. So long as Ladybug needed her, Chat Noir would be happy to serve.

Blake drank the water from the sink and spat it out. She took out a small tube, bringing out the pills and swallowing them.

“Plagg?” “Hm?”

“Why are the Miraculouses so special?” “They have us, pretty sure that makes them special.” “Chadwick. Scorpio. Both of them wanted our Miraculous. What would he need ours for?” “Ah… Yeah I should tell you.” Blake’s eyes snapped open. “You didn’t think it was important before?!” 

“No you’re right, let me explain.” Plagg said. “Tikki and I, we’re the Kwamis of Creation and Destruction. When we’re together we can accomplish miracles beyond anything mortal can imagine.”

“Like… genies?”

“Yeah, but we’re not bound by rules the way those twerps are. Whoever’s the boss has Nooro and probably wants Tikki and I to fulfill a wish.” “Hmmm…”

Blake shook the little rube in her hand. Her eyes narrowed a little. “So you could grant any wish right?” “Probably. Why, you gonna swipe the earrings?” “I won’t.” “Then why the question?” Blake hesitated, before deciding to risk it. 

“I’m just wondering if they could…” She shook the tube. “You know, make it so I don’t have to take these?” She had only rarely seen Plagg get serious around her. His mischievous smile gave away to a frown, contemplating her question. “It could do that yeah. You’d probably feel more comfortable without ‘em. Thing is, the type of magic we are… the wishes we grant come at a cost. In order to get a thing, something has to be given back.”

“Equivalent exchange…” Blake sighed again. “Nothing is ever free is it?” “I wish it were so, gloomy cat.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The corridors made Blake feel uneasy.

There were just so many… people. Students, teachers, employees… Blake tried to ignore them. She tried to ignore the noises and small talk that could be heard down the hallway; she tried not to look for any mention of her name that came with disgust or insult; no matter what she did, the feeling of anxiety came with her. At last, Blake glanced around trying to catch someone. Anyone. 

Nothing came. Nobody did.

It was silly. Nobody knew her, she was practically invisible to the crowd. They were too wrapped up in the hum and drum of their own lives to think anything of her. Even so, Blake felt uncomfortable. Even if she knew, logically, that no one stared at her, that no one knew her, she felt as if any moment somebody would jump out and call her by name, revealing her to the world. 

To her relief, no one did. Blake shuddered. College was supposed to be a fresh start for her. In many ways, it was exactly what she needed. Even though she walked into the room late, no one batted an eye. She took a seat behind her (so far) best friend, with no one the wiser.

“Mornin’ Blakey,” Yang winked at her. “Had trouble rollin’ out of bed?” If Plagg and Yang ever met, they’d probably make a great team. Blake thanked the universe they haven’t. Yet.

“My sleep schedule isn’t your concern Yang.” Blake placed her bag underneath her seat. “What’s the lesson for today?”

“Oh it’s just the doc rambling off. You haven’t missed much.”

“You will be missing something, Miss Xiao-Long.” The teacher twirled his brown mustache. “Your grade, if you keep speaking out of turn.” Yang narrowed her eyes in contempt before yawning. Dr. Arthur Watts was the type of man to carry himself with great self importance. His lab assistant, a man with green hair and glasses larger than his own eyes, fidgeted behind him. A machine lied in the middle of the table, a metal skeleton, the body split as if it was reaching for it’s toes.

“As you can see, students,” Dr. Watts spat out, “We’re supposed to be studying history. What better demonstration of history can there be, than actively participating in it?” “D-doctor,” Bartholomew Oobleck, the doctor’s assistant, stuttered while he sipped his coffee. “I must insist this to be a terrible idea! The prototype isn’t even out of testing stage!” “Nonsense. Activate the machine!”

Oobleck, against his better knowledge and wisdom, pressed the button on the robot. The almost sinister sounds of beeps and smoke rising were heard across the room, the metal skeleton raising itself up. It stared at the students, freaking them out with it’s slow deliberate patterns. Arthur Watts grinned.

“My machine was rejected for being an inferior product,” He said to the room. “As you can see, it is clearly nonsense. Wave at them my robot!”

It did so, mimicking the human action of waving hi at people to the best of it’s ability. However, everyone could see smoke rising from the machine’s head. A minor explosion was heard, the skeleton head twisting, turning and churning before falling to the floor, sending nuts and bolts flying around the room.

“A… minor setback.” Dr. Watts said finally. “But if I can make it work then I’ll finally be able to ascend to the scientific community! No more classes for me with idiotic, inattentive students at least!”

There was a moment of silence among the students who weren’t quite sure what to make of this display. Blake raised a hand up.

“Yes Miss Belladonna? Who I may remind you all was late to this lecture? Would you care to voice your objections?”

Blake was keenly aware of the chuckles from behind and in front of her. She put them aside. “I was late, I’ll try to keep that in check.” Blake said. “However, while this… experiment looks rather interesting, aren’t we supposed to be learning about American history?” Indignant at the response, Dr. Watts turned to his assistant, who was whispering little curses to himself. He was on his own for this. “But you are!” Dr. Watts shouted. “You’re participating in our experiment!” “Would it not be better to do it in an actual lab?” Blake said. “With actual doctors checking on it? Not in a classroom where we’re supposed to be learning something else entirely? No wonder you haven’t been certified yet, you’ve been very unprofessional.”

Laughter came. Not at Blake, but at the incompetent doctor she had to remind herself. Dr. Watts blushed furiously.

“A once in a lifetime opportunity…” Dr. Watts pouteed. “-and you throw it away?!?” “I told you this would happen Arthur,” Oobleck tried to reason. “Maybe we can open up the textbooks and get back on track, there’s still an hour-“

But the doctor wasn’t hearing any of it. He grabbed his coat and marched out of the room, ignoring the laughter of, in his mind, infantile ignoramus adults. “BAH! If this how they act then they are not worthy of me.”

The door slammed shut. Watts would complain to the Headmaster later. The stupid woman gave him an inattentive classroom. He brought out a cigar. 

“Stupid children, stupid Oobleck. I’m supposed to be a genius scientist but… graaargh! I’ll get revenge at some point.”

Arthur twirled his mustache, feeling something on his shoulder. He turned to see that what landed was a small butterfly.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Oobleck looked around not sure what to say. The students erupted into conversation, completely ignoring the green haired man. Any chance of a normal class had died when Watts left the room.

“Whoah Blake.” Yang whistled to her friend. “That was awesome.” “Not really.” Blake waved it off. "An idiot is a hot air balloon that needs to be popped, less they fly off into space and have it’s occupants freeze to death.” “Isn’t space a vacuum though?” Blake rolled her eyes.

“You okay though?” Yang asked. “You seem a bit tense.” Perceptive. Blake cursed in her head coming up with an excuse.

“I didn’t sleep well, so I’m a bit on edge.” Blake supposed that would do. “How did this guy end up a teacher, let alone our teacher?” “Ah, you missed that part of the opening act.” Yang said. “Dude apparently got fired from his old job, so Salem brought him here as a favor. Since every other position was filled he had teach history since he had the degree for it.”

“Ah, that does explain it. Salem is a nice person.” “Yeah, too nice.” Yang slumped on the table, resting her head on her shoulders. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but she should be more careful with who she picks ya know?”

Blake nods. “I suppose so.”

‘Then again.’ She thought. ‘If it weren’t for her… why I be allowed here?’

“Anyway,” Yang continued. “Wanna skip class? Ruby’s got some designs she wanted to show me, and I’m getting the distinct impression the teacher won’t be coming back.” “Maybe…” She felt her ring vibrate. “Um, maybe not today.”

“Oh come on we haven’t even hung out yet!”

“I’m sorry it’s just that I remembered something and-“

The door was suddenly kicked down. Blake and Yang turned their heads bewildered ash the sight.

“Hello children!” A raspy voice spoke to the classroom. “Do you want to participate in an EXCITING EXPERIMENT?!”

Blake surmised him to be yet another freakish villain, the same as Chadwick and Scorpio. The man had credit for going for something a bit more stylish than the other two. The black long coat mixed with the red scarf around the neck, the man’s eyes by oversized goggles and a cigar on the mouth.  “My my my, how come you’re not all excited? As a Huntsman of the Great and Mighty Monarch, I’m going to have to ask ALL OF YOU to sit down until those pathetic hero brats show up.”

“What is this madness Arthur?!?” Oobleck placed a shoulder on Dr. Watts. “How did you even change your outfit so quickly, you weren’t even in this when you-”

BAM! Oobleck fell to the floor, spasming from electric shocks as Dr. Watts blew away the smoke from the gun.

“Arthur Watts is a disrespected genius, but…” He smirked in delight. “KillerWatts will be happy to avenge him, I have so many plans to execute, with so little time!”

He pulled out another gun with his pocket right, firing both at the ceiling, leaving the lights dimmed and broken. The students could only watch in horror as the Shockslinger chuckled.

“What’s the doc doing?!”

“Is he like a supervillain? Like the guys Ladybug and Chat Noir fight?” “Shit we gotta go run!”

They were piling out and fast. Blake knew she needed to find a spot so she could transform into Chat Noir and take care of this villain. Perhaps she could take advantage of the chaos to find a place to hide. “Blake we gotta stick together!” Yang grabbed her friend’s arm. “Now move!” Or she could get dragged by Yang, away from any place they could do so. 

“Yang maybe we need to find a place to hide,” Blake pointed in one direction. “I could look for help over there-“ “Are you crazy?!?” Yang pulled harder. “I’m not leaving you alone for a second, c’mon!”

As her friend took her away, Blake realized that transforming would be a difficult task. She knew she needed to find out, but how? Where was Ladybug?

As she thought of that, KillerWatts cursed himself for allowing the brats to get away. His master already told him the mission: find the miraculous, bring it to her, everyone else was secondary. As much as he wanted revenge, KillerWatts knew he needed to set his priorities straight.

“Those insufferable little brats will get what’s coming to them later. For now though…” He walked over to his failed machine. Gently, Watts fired a bullet from his gun into the robot, causing blue electric waves to spread over the robot’a.

“We should spread a bit of chaos… just enough for Ladybug to appear."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Hey Ren! Look at this!” Nora stuffed a pair of peas into her mouth, then brought a straw to her lips. She spat the peas through the straw into the air, where it hit Cardin Winchester. He turned around, flipping the middler finger to Nora, who just waved at him. Ren clapped.

“Fantastic as always Nora.”

“Thanks Ren.” Pyrrha and Jaune decided to shrug at that. Jaune glanced over to Ruby, seeing her focused on her notebook.

“What’s up Ruby?” Jaune scooched over to Ruby. “Working on a new design right now?” 

“Huh?” Ruby blinked. “Oh yeah! Weiss suggested some ideas for designs and I’ve been trying to figure out how to get them right. I’m going to meet with her later to see what she thinks.” “… You’re working with Weiss?” Jaune raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you and Weiss umm… Hate each other?” “I don’t… hate her I guess?” Ruby shrugged. “I don’t like her, but she’s seen my designs and wants to help me get better. If I want to get a career going, I feel like I should get advice from someone who’s already working in the industry right?” “Makes sense.” Ren said. “If one studies the art of the blade, they mustn’t be too picky about who they learn it from.” “… yeah I guess?” ‘Ren can be so strange sometimes,’ Ruby thought. ‘At least he’s supportive?’ “You’re a fashion designer, Ruby?” Pyrrha asked. “Have you made any designs yet?” “Ohhhh she is, Pyrrha!” Jaune pointed at the notebook. “Ruby showed me her notebook during inauguration, she’s not half bad!” “Oh stop it Jaune!” Ruby giggled. “I’m not great… yet…” “Ruby’s a fashion designer?!” Nora popped in front of Ruby, which startled the girl. "COME ON LET US SEE!”

“Nora, that’s not how you ask friends for favors. You do it from an approximately two feet away so you’re at tackling distance.” “Oh right sorry Ren.” Nora pulled back. “May we pleaaaase see your cool stuff? Please?” Ruby felt eyes on her. She wanted to keep some ideas to herself but… well these were her friends… Ruby supposed it would’t be a problem this one time.  Laughing awkwardly, she laid out her notebook for her friends.

“It’s not much but… here they are!” They looked at her notes in awe at the skill. There were pictures and drawings of elaborate, elegant outfit designs, inked to the slightest detail, with notes on the side explaining how they were supposed to be stitched, what fabrics would work with this or that, each dress not just sticking to one style but dipping into other types. Goth, pastel, others, Ruby had a talent for not just doing one, but knowing how to mix them together.

“Wow Ren look at these! I gotta ask Ruby to make our wedding outfits!” “Agreed. She is quite adept.” “These aren’t bad.” Pyrrha looked at Ruby. “Have you thought about posting these online?” “Maybe?” Ruby said. “I only just started college… I want to keep a low profile now.”

“Low profile?!” Jaune pointed at a design in the book. “Ruby that kind of t talent should be out there for all to see!”

“I just don’t think I’m ready that’s all.” Pyrrha noticed how Ruby was nervous, so she laid a hand on Jaune’s shoulder to calm him down. “I can understand what you mean, Ruby.” Pyrrha smiled. “I came here so I could avoid too much publicity. Do consider my point though. If you want opportunities you’re going to have to take risks. Not just here, for all life.” “Huh…” Ruby frowned. “That’s what Weiss said.” “She’s right, Ruby.” Pyrrha placed a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “I might be able to put in a good word for you.” “You could?!?” Ruby’s eyes lit up before she gently brought Pyrrha’s hand away. “Uh ahem, let me think about it. Maybe.”

She thought of the possibilities that could come from this. Maybe other designers will see them and give her a chance? With Pyrrha, a popular athlete, giving a good word maybe something could be done. But would it work? Of course her friends would praise her. Maybe she should need to speak to Weiss first. She’d probably tell her not to do it, being an expert and all. What if she did get people to notice her but they turn her down?

(What if she saw it?)

“HOLY CRAP, RUN!” Ruby heard it before her earrings vibrated. A panicked student ran down the mess hall just as a set of walls broke, revealing a robot with blue sparks surrounding it.

“Kill the brats.” The robot spoke. “Bring the miraculous to the Master!”

“Shit what was that?!?” Jaune got up from the chair. “We gotta move!”

Ruby knew she had to act quickly. She pushed the notebook into her bag and ran with the others. Nora fired peas from her straw at the robot. They disintegrated upon impact due to the electric current. Thankfully for her Ren grabbed her hand and moved with Jaune. “Why is it attacking us, here?” Pyrrha turned her head led and right. “Where’s Ruby?!”

Jaune turned around, having just noticed his friend’s absence. “Ruby, RUBY!!!”

The robot turned it’s attention towards Jaune, who was desperately looking around.

“RUBY!” “Jaune watch out!" A red spot appeared on Jaune’s chest. Before he could get fired on, a yoyo appeared over Jaune’s arm, pulling him away from laser fire. “You should be more careful.” Ladybug said. “This is the second time I saved you. Get going!” “But Ruby-!” “I’ll find her soon, but move!” Ruby felt guilty sending her friend away. She had ducked under a table during the chaos. She knew what she had to do.

“Okay you bucket of bolts!” Ladybug shouted to the robot. “Let’s see what you’re made of!” The robot fired concentrated electric blasts at Ladybug, but she was quick and nimble, leaping across the tables with ease. Her eyes narrowed, she used the yoyo to catch one of the robot’s legs, pulling on it to break it off. Once it did, the robot fell to the side, firing at Ladybug again. However, she jumped through the air, raising a leg to attack it’s head.

SMASH! The head went flying, falling just a few steps away. Ladybug let out a breath.

“Holy crap.” Ruby said to herself. “I should be careful with my own strength. She waited for the butterfly to come out, to de-grimmify the robot, fix the area, get some answers. Chat would appreciate a situation she didn’t have to be called for.

“I guess this isn’t it.” Ladybug said. “That means the real Huntsman must be in here somewhere.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

It was hard for Blake to concentrate when she could hear bullets flying in the air.

“Hahahahaha! Stupid kids are going to get what’s coming to them!”

She heard the doctor shout his grazed ramblings behind her. She cringed as Yang took her behind a wall.

“Which way do we go? That bastard’s gonna track us down sooner or later.” Yang looked around. “Where’s Ladybug and Chat Noir when you need ‘em?”

Blake wished she could laugh. She wasn’t sure about Ladybug, but Blake would certainly not be able to answer her about Chat Noir. Unless Plagg decided to take control right now, Blake wasn’t sure she wanted to risk her identity just yet to Yang.

“Maybe if we head down the mess hall.” Blake pointed. “Maybe we could get help.“

“Yeah, great idea.” Yang’s eyes widened. “Wait no. Ruby’s with her friends in the cafeteria. What if he gets there?”

Damn. Blake hadn’t considered that. “Maybe…” Blake tried to think. “Maybe we could head into a different classroom? Call someone?”

“Maybe. I don’t know I-” Yang breathed in and out. “God things have gotten weird so quickly.” “What do you mean?” “What, the superheroes, the donkey monsters, the scorpion guy, now our teacher’s a crappy cowboy? World’s gone insane since we showed up in town.”

Blake laughed. “Yeah they have. I wish I could say things’ll get better but…” “I wouldn’t believe it if it came from you. You’re too gloomy for nice thoughts.” “Harsh, though not unfair." “I’m good at reading people like that.”

Oh Plagg would love Yang if they met. Maybe…

“Yang I think…” Blake breathed. “I think I might have a way out of this.” Yang raised an eyebrow. “Well out with it, I don’t think I have any- GAAH!“ Blake watched in horror as Yang fell to the ground. She clutched her arm, bleeding from the side. Blake saw a hole where Yang’s arm originally was. “Ggh! What the hell?!?”

“Do you enjoy my handiwork?” KillerWatts grinned at the frightened teenagers. Better yet, these two were the slackers who made a fool of him in today’s class. “Foolish children. You mock and insult your betters…” He raised a gun at Yang. "Who’s laughing now?!!!?” It amused KillerWatts when Blake stood in between Yang and himself. She raised her hands in defiance.

“Don’t hurt my friend! Do whatever you want to me, just let her go!”

“B-Blake no-!” “Idiot.” Dr. Watts’s eye twitched. “You’re the one who humiliated me… You don’t deserve even one of my bullets.” He grabbed the offending student and threw Blake through the window.

“Say good bye!” “BLAKE!”

As she was tossed out of the window, Blake thought about the events that lead up to this moment. Her past, her present, her friendships with Yang, Ladybug… Ruby… she couldn’t let them die.

“Plagg, Claws-"

Blake felt arms surrounding her shoulders before she could even spout the words. She looked to see her savior, as they landed at the lawn. “You alright miss?” Ladybug said. “You’re not injured?”

Blake blushed, nodding her head.

“Good.” Ladybug cleared her throat. “You better hurry inside. My partner hasn’t shown up yet and I need to stop the villain quickly.” “Of course… I won’t get in your way.” Blake’s eyes widened. “Watch out for the doctor! He has guns! He shot my friend Yang in the arm.”

She was surprised at the way Ladybug glared. “He won’t get away with it, I promise.”

As Ladybug jumped up to face the evil scientist, Blake dashed away. She rubbed the ring.

“What’s up gloomy cat?” “Plagg, CLAWS OUT!” _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Well well well, if it isn’t Ladybug! You arrived at last.”

Ruby watched Yang bleed out next to the villain and saw red. How dare this pathetic, cruel little man do that to her sister?! He had to pay.

“Monarch demands your earrings.” KillerWatts pointed a gun at her. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your highness, would you?” “She’ll have to pry them off herself, over my dead body.” “That can be arranged.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the fight began. KillerWatts fired at her, but Ladybug quickstepped past them as if they were slower than dirt. She threw her yoyo to tangle one of Watts’ arms.

“Do you think that will be enough?!” Watts fired his other gun to break the Yoyo’s string. “You really are a child-“ A sharp pain! The gun was knocked away from his right hand. Ladybug had another yoyo in her hand.

“Why you-!” She ducked below him, kicking him off balance. KillerWatts immediately fired from his left hand, which Ladybug jumped away to avoid them. Watts got up quickly, just in time to avoid two strikes from two yoyos. Somehow Ladybug’s broken yoyo repaired itself.

“You’re fast, Ladybug.” He said. "Not fast enough.” He fired again. Ladybug dodged again.

“You’re not particularly creative, sir.” Ladybug said. “Even Chadwick varied his monsters.” “It’s KillerWatts dear. Watch what you say brat-“ The bullets froze in mid air.

“-You might end up regretting it!” Ladybug was surprised by how fast the bullets moved. She had to keep herself moving less they hit her.

“What the heck are these?” “Fool! You think Monarch hands out powers without imagination! Your efforts so far-“

The bullets glowed.

“-WILL DETONATE BEFORE YOUR EYES!”

Miniature explosions shocked Ladybug still, the current making her drop to her knees. “GAAAAAAAH!” “Heh heh.” “No…” Yang tried to get up, but her arm hurt so badly. “Ladybug no!”

KillerWatts laughed, walking over to his defeated foe with nary a concern.

“A fitting end to a worthless brat. It is a wonder that the others had so much problem with her. The difference between peons and a genius.” He reached over to the earrings… before something slammed into his chest. KillerWatts jumped away, pointing guns at the intruder. “You won’t lay a hand on her.” Chat pointed her staff at him. “Surrender now.” “Oh great.” Dr. Watts sneered. “More naughty children to kill.” He fired several shots at Chat, who smashed them all at once with her staff. One by one they were each broken to KillerWatts’ amazement. “I have to study that staff… after I take it from your corpse!”

Chat moved quickly. She didn’t even flinch at the bullets moving towards her, smashing some as she ran towards her target. “Say your prayers!” “Wrong thing to say, kitty cat.” The bullets that Chat hadn’t destroyed detonated again. This time, they formed an electric trap around her. “You…” Chat said. “What did you do?!” “I dare you to move towards me, I dare you.”

Chat glared at her opponent. She took a step, but a laser shot near her foot, leaving a black spot on the floor. The laser fired again, which Chat had to move. Ladybug came to. She noticed KillerWatts laughing while her partner was dodging the lighting in the trap. She had to figure out a way to help out her friend.

“Here goes nothing…” She whispered. "Lucky charm!” Tikki had told her of this ability. When pushed into a dangerous situation, Ladybug wielders can summon an object that will help turn the tide of battle. Ruby didn’t have a choice but to use it. The yoyo glowed, releasing…

“A razor?” Ladybug picked up the electric razor with her hand. She looked it up and down.

“What the heck? This is supposed to help me against that psycho?!? What am I supposed to do, shave off his mustache?” She blinked. “Oh you gotta be kidding me.” Given who she was dealing with, it wouldn’t surprise her. Ruby sighed.

“Okay let’s get this going.”

“Hahahahahaha dance for me you stupid cat!” KillerWatts laughed. “Give praise to your superior mind!”

Chat cursed in her head as she moved from the laser. Why did the Butterfly miraculous grant it’s users these versatile, almost overpowered abilities while she and Ladybug were so limited?! It angered her over it’s unfairness.

“When I get out of here, I’m going to rant to Plagg. Maybe limit his cheese until I-“ “Chat grab on!” She blinked as the yoyo appeared in the trap. Chat grabbed it, and felt herself being pulled from the trap.

“What?” KillerWatts’ eye twitched. “No…” “Thank you my lady.” Chat collected herself. "What’s the plan?” Ladybug showed her the electric razor. “What are you-“ Chat’s eyes darted from the razor to KillerWatts. “Oh. That makes far too much sense.” They dashed one last time. The dup kept switching places, avoiding the bullets again.

“Damn you!” KillerWatts shouted. “Die!” Chat went in front of Ladybug, destroying a few bullets, while Ladybug used both of her yo-yos to move them closer to their opponent. “Die!”

He was about to fire again, but they were knocked away by a yoyo and a staff strike.

“YOU ALL SHOULD JUST DIE!!!!” He shouted even as Blake grabbed his arms behind him, Ladybug activating the razor.

“No stop-!”

SHZZZZ

His mustache was gone. Destroyed, in the blink of an eye, by the razor. Arthur couldn't even process this blasphemy happening as the butterfly appeared. Ladybug caught the glowing insect with her yoyo.

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!” As it happens in these situations, the ladybugs fixed everything. KillerWatts was no more, as Dr. Arthur Watts lied in the ground, probably knocked out from the shock of his mustache gone. Ladybug and Chat gazed at each other.

“That man is so fired.” Chat said. “Not bad Ladybug. You were great today.” “You’re not so bad yourself, Chat.” Ladybug said. “You ok?” “I am.” “Me too!” Yang swung her arm around freely. She was cheery “Damn my arm’s good! Would be a shame if I lost it.” Ladybug and Chat laughed awkwardly at that joke. Yang smiled before panicking. “Oh crap! I need to find Blake! And Ruby! Sorry guys gotta run!" Yang ran off to the hallway. Ladybug and Chat shrugged.

“See you around Chat.” “Likewise, Bugaboo.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Foiled again. This is getting so annoying.” Monarch slammed a fist at the table. KillerWatts did come closer to capturing the miraculous than the other two, but almost is not the same as total victory. She had to change her strategy somehow. How did they arrive to the school so quickly?

She stopped herself.

“How did they arrive so quickly to the school?”

Monarch turned on her computer. She typed into the mainframe, pulling up a list of students from this year. She smirked in realization. 

“It seems not all was lost today. I may have a clue.”

Author’s Notes:

I was originally gonna have Arthur be like this Frankenstein parody “FrankenWatts” but that fell through. I was also going to call hi “The ShockSlinger” but my friend came up with KillerWatts, which was a way better name. Thank you friend for having more sense than me!

I was going to have more moments between Blake and Ladybug to sort of set up a Ladrien situation, but the story didn’t feel right for such a thing. I hope you’re satisfied anyway!

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Well This is Strange and Unexpected [Toshinori x Reader] [Part 2]

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Summary: Toshinori struggles with your unfavorable opinion of his heroic alter-ego, but tries his hardest to impress you on a second date! Now… how do people date again?

4,537 words | SFW

“Wh-wh-what are you saying? You don’t like All Might?”

“I am just so tired of how everybody loves him! ‘I got the All Might special-edition action figure.’ ‘Well I got his autograph,’” you parrot in a mocking tone. “Whoop-de-friggen-doo. And he’s such an annoying showboat—like, I appreciate the crime he stops, but half the time he’s just striking a pose in front of news cameras shouting some dumb catchphrase. Go catch a bag guy and quit bragging about it! But you know what pisses me off most of all—all the swooning and fangirling. Why are so many women even into him?! All those beefy muscles are so ugly, he’s like an upside-down stack of potatoes! Who likes that?”

Toshinori is just staring, slack jawed, at you. Like you kicked his puppy.

“Sorry for going off like that, I shouldn’t tear apart something you obviously like.”

Is what you should have said.

Instead, you inhale, and, “Another thing! He’s not even edgy, or interesting—there’s no depth there, he’s just… all powerful and perfect? It’s so boring! All flash and no substance. If I was going to root for a hero, it’d be someone like Eraserhead. So dark and gruff, never putting himself in the spotlight, letting the work speak for itself.”

“I… I’ve gotta go.” He stands robotically and walks toward the door. Oh, shit. Your heart sinks.

“Wait!” you run after him and grab his arm. “I’m sorry. I was being mean. It’s just, All Might stuff is everywhere and it feels like I can’t escape it,” you laugh. “But if you’re a fan, that’s OK. I won’t make fun of him. I really am sorry.” He finally turns around to face you.

“I meant the phone call. I gotta go. Emergency.” He holds up the glowing screen.

“Oh.”

He smiles and pats you on the head. But he’s more subdued than he was a minute ago, and there’s a pain in his eyes when he looks at you that wasn’t there before. He probably did take it really personally when you insulted his hero. Idiot.

“Do you really think All Might is ugly?” he asks quietly, gathering his things by the door. “There’s nothing appealing about him at all?”

“Like I said, you’re my type.”

He lets out a quiet, almost melancholy breath of a laugh. He turns to you, and wraps his long arms around you, pulling you into a gentle embrace. It’s not a particularly passionate hug—his touch is so light, he’s barely making contact at all—but he’s tall enough to rest his chin on top of your head.

“You’re a strange one,” he whispers.

You close your eyes and breathe him in. He smells a lot like iron and convenience-store floor, actually, could be a lot more romantic. But you feel content so close to this scarecrow, with his soft bangs hanging down and brushing your skin. You almost let out a whine when he finally pulls away.

“So, will I see you again?” You ask, nervous about the answer. He couldn’t have been that serious about that All Might stuff, right? But if you chased him off, at this point, it might break your heart.

“Definitely.” A wide grin splits his whole face as he strikes a heroic pose. “My debating skills cannot be defeated! Next time, I’ll convince you All Might is the greatest hero!”

“Oh my god, get out of my house.”

 ****

Toshinori couldn’t believe it. Today of all days. First he wore himself out doing hero work in the morning. Then USJ was attacked and he pushed past his limit to rescue his students, nearly died, and once again reduced the amount of time he can remain in his muscle form. On top of all that, now, today of all days is when a couple of everyday bullies decide to hassle him.

He just had to go for a walk instead of getting a cab straight home. Had to stop to pick up medicine, even though it was already getting dark. Were such simple things really so hard for the number-one hero now?

He would laugh if it weren’t so pathetic.

It wasn’t like this had never happened before. Every once in awhile some delinquent singles him out, expecting a weak target, but even in his weak form, on a normal day, he would easily dodge and evade them, quickly diffusing the situation.

But today. Today he was done. He had already gone beyond what he had to give, and gone beyond that again, and he was out.

There were plenty of witnesses in the store, but nobody was going to stop to help, just pretending they couldn’t see. He was practically invisible in this form. Nobody cares what happens to some creepy, worn-down old man. It’s better this way, anyway. What kind of hero would he be if someone got hurt rescuing him?

This was really going to happen. He was really going to have his ass kicked by some random jerks. How had he fallen so low?

Then you appeared.

There was nothing he could do to stop you from putting yourself in danger: he could barely move. That kick caught him right in his weak spot, the old wound Nomu had already agitated earlier that day. A sickening, warm gurgling of fluids squished in his lungs, making each breath a battle against the encroaching darkness.

Run away. Just run away!

You obviously weren’t a hero, you didn’t have any training, that was clear in the way you carried yourself. But you were brave. Brave enough to piss those guys off. You just kept telling them off like you had no sense of self-preservation, until—he saw one of them about to throw a punch at you, and his nostrils flared in anger. He would have to—have to force himself to transform, no matter how it would hurt him, no matter how many people would see. He couldn’t let this happen—

Then you did something his pride would never have let him consider: you just started shrieking.

It worked. You saved yourself, and him, though it was even more humiliating than letting himself get beat up. There he was, suffocating on his own blood where anyone walking by could see what a helpless weakling he was… and now there was a girl bawling loudly on that same floor, drawing everyone’s attention to the intensely embarrassing scene.

Time to crawl into a hole and never show his face again?

He had to hand it to you though, you knew what you were doing. You forced all the silent spectators to admit they were paying attention—forced them to get involved. You had the heart of a hero, all right.

Everything after that seemed to happen so fast. Losing consciousness, learning that you had risked your well-being once again for him with your quirk. The shame he felt, seeing you suffering the same symptoms he was. Then suddenly, you were asking him out?

He was used to getting attention all the time in his muscle form, but in his true form, he was so invisible he could transform into All Might in public and nobody ever noticed. Like there was nobody standing there before All Might magically showed up.

His head swam dizzily when you said that he was your type. How could you be serious? But it seemed you were, even though he had been nothing but helpless. Even though you were coughing up blood because of him. What in the world were you seeing?

You were so boldly affectionate with him—though every time you did something unreserved, you started turning red and shaking, like you were acting with your heart before your head could talk you out of it. Even his hideous scar, and the frustrating health issues he doesn’t like to burden others with, you accepted without even a moment of disgust or fear. You reached out and touched it without thinking, and then blushed. It was so cute.

Being adored and praised as All Might was easy to brush off, but this? He had never had someone pressed against his body so affectionately as this drained husk. As the thing he was slowly becoming, permanently. There was at least one person who still saw him. He could get used to that feeling—that warmth in his chest. 

Then his phone rang—that custom ringtone he recorded himself! For a moment, he thought you were putting it together: the blond hair, two long bangs, the eyes, the voice.

But no, instead he got an even bigger shock. You don’t like All Might?!

How can he go out with someone who doesn’t like All Might? He is All Might!

Obnoxious? Ugly?? SHE PREFERS AIZAWA?!?!

Nope. That’s it. That is more than he can take.

But then there you were, pulling at his arm with those puppy-dog eyes, apologizing. You didn’t mean anything against him. You just didn’t know. You couldn’t know. He can’t blame you for having an opinion about a public figure. Even he had to admit his public persona could be a little… much.

He checked the caller before dismissing it. It was Nezu, so it probably was important. Not exactly a lie. It’s a shame to leave early, but he didn’t want you to know how shaken he was.

To be honest, he’s been starting to resent All Might a little, himself. He used to be that brawny, handsome hero, but now… now it’s just a mask he puts on. A flashy act for the crowds, and they eat it up, while his real self is overlooked and treated like a punching bag. Of course he resents it, just a little.

It’s actually kind of tickling that you prefer him this way. Pretty soon, it’s all he’ll be.

But he is All Might, too! If you only knew him better, you would realize how awesome he is! After all, All Might is the same person you had a wonderful evening with, laughing and watching movies—the same person you wanted a second date with. Yes, he’s sure you would like all of him if you got to know him! He’ll win you over!

 ****

“Next time, I’ll convince you,” he said. Next time.

After 15 minutes, you get a text from Toshinori’s number. “Oh good, did he make it home safely?” you wonder.

It’s a short essay about All Might.

Ping!

Another text from Toshi. Also about All Might.

Ping!

Did you know crime rates fell by over 20 percent since All Might debuted?

Ping!

His confident demeanor isn’t just showboating, it’s about instilling confidence in—

Ping!

Look at this video of All Might rescuing puppies! PUPPIES!!

You shake your head and laugh, a warm smile on your face. Hero fanatics may be annoying, but Toshi is kind of adorable. It’s so wide-eyed and innocent how much he loves—

Ping! Ping! Ping!

Yeah, never mind, it’s annoying. You text back a single message:

lol.

You can practically hear his internal screaming from across town. You snicker. He was right, you are a little devious.

*********************************************

Toshinori was as busy as he said he’d be. After the flurry of texts, it was over a week before you heard from him again. You thought he might want to watch the U.A. Sports Festival together, since he was such a fan of hero stuff (and All Might would be involved this year—eye roll), but he said he had too much to do.

You wondered if that was true, or if he could hear your eyes rolling through the text message. Maybe your snarky response to his hero obsession had spoiled things, and he’d keep on making excuses until you took the hint.

But a day later, he called back (yes, called—who does that?) and apologized so vehemently, you knew he meant what he’d said all along. He was just busy. But he was going to have some free time over the next week, and wants to see you again!

He shows up at your door with a bouquet of pink, white, and periwinkle flowers in his hands, wearing an oversized blazer and tie. It’s like he’d watched an old Fred Astaire movie to figure out what people on dates are supposed to look like.

“Aww, Toshinori!” you clasp your hands under your chin. “What did I say about marriage? You’re not here to propose, are you?”

He looks down at himself, then at your casual attire. “I overdid it, huh?”

“You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

“I’ve been told it’s a problem of mine,” he scratches the back of his head, giving a lopsided grin.

“No, it’s adorable!” You take the flowers, brushing your fingers against his, and bury your nose in the fragrant petals. You look up at him with a sultry, playful gaze. “Though… I might need to change into something more formal now, or it’ll look like I hired you.” A fountain of blood shoots from his mouth.

You drop the bouquet and throw your arm under his shoulder in case he falls, the other hand instinctively placing itself over his scar, the source of his affliction. He jumps back with surprising agility, as if evading an attack.

“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t use your quirk on me again. I’m much better today—the bleeding is always going to happen, so don’t push yourself.”

You hold your hands up in surrender. “OK. I wasn’t going to. Probably. I definitely won’t now. It’s really a regular issue?”

He nods. “I’m sorry if it bothers you.”

“No, no, I was just curious.” You take his hand and lead him inside. He explains his condition, while you find a vase for the flowers. He takes off his jacket and tie, folding them over the arm of the couch. With just a white button-up, he immediately comes down to a more casual level, better matching your outfit. He throws his arms wide to ask, “What do you think?”

You think he looks slender and gorgeous, and just disheveled enough that you want to comb your fingers through his hair, and just dapper enough that you want to undo one more button.

“Perfect!” You throw finger guns at him, “Just a couple of slobs out for a date!”

 ****

Unfortunately, he has a reservation at a fancy restaurant. Very fancy. One of those places where the floors are marble and everyone wears black. Now you feel way under-dressed, and wish he’d warned you that’s why he was dressed so nice. You don’t even want to look at the prices on the menu.

You had hoped this date would be more exciting, considering the first one started with a brawl. That was a real ice-breaker. Here, the atmosphere is so quiet and formal, you’re almost afraid to speak, and a tense silence builds between you. Toshinori doesn’t seem to be having a great time either.

“You’re barely eating anything,” you note him lethargically picking at his plate. “Do you not like the food?”

“No, I just can’t eat much at once, so…”

“But the portions here are really big! Why would you want to come here?”

“It… seemed like the kind of place you’re supposed to go for a date!”

“Are you kidding?” you shout, half standing up from your seat, too loudly for the restaurant, whose more dignified customers glare and scoff. You sit back down and cover your face with your hand. And you just start laughing. A quiet chuckle at first, but soon you can’t even contain it, your shoulders wracking, and your head tossed back.

“Wh-what’s so funny?” Toshi looks scared.

“I hate it here!” you spurt out, still laughing. “This is the worst! It’s way too stuffy, and you can’t even eat the food.”

“I hate this place too! I just thought women like this sort of thing.”

You sputter and howl, slapping the table. “What are we even doing here?”

“We’re getting the bill!” He calls the waiter over, who is happy to shoo you ruffians out of the fine establishment.

 ****

Out in the fresh air and sunlight, you feel like you can finally talk to each other. He apologizes for being too old-fashioned, and, frankly, having no idea what he’s doing. You link arms, and decide to go for a stroll around the city, stopping at a street vendor for pork buns, which Toshi can eat one at a time at his own pace.

However, out in the city, All Might’s unsettling grin was inescapable, watching from every billboard and gift shop. It’s not long before Toshi starts on his favorite subject: prying into why you are the one person on earth who doesn’t adore him. You would be just as happy to let it go, but since he insists, you wind up in a heated back-and-forth.

“…and he’s always like ‘Detroit smash!’ ‘Texas smash!’ but it’s just a bunch of punches.”

“Th-that’s not true at all! Detroit Smash is when he punches downward to create a shockwave, and Texas Smash is when he punches so hard it blows villains away, and—”

“Yeah, that’s just a bunch of punches.”

Choking noises escape his throat. His entire world has been destroyed. Good job.

He hangs his head with a defeated sigh. “So, you really hate All Might.”

You squeeze his arm. It hurts to see him so down, even though it’s silly that he cares so much. “It’s not that I hate him. At the end of the day, I’m glad he’s running around saving lives. The problem is hero culture in general. There’s so much focus on their ‘brand,’ on their market value. I guess I can’t even blame individual heroes for grandstanding, considering their income depends on their popularity, but honestly—they’re public servants, the same as the police. Did you know the police are still responsible for stopping more crimes than heroes, when you take into account all the non-quirk-related crimes they handle, and the detective work used to locate villains in the first place? But you don’t see their faces all over posters, and commercials, and t-shirts!” You point your finger in a random direction, and it lands on a perfume ad in a store window with Uwabami’s face. Amazing, not All Might this time.

“And your hero All Might is the worst one, with that dumb flashy smile, and big inspiring speeches, like he’s gotta make sure everyone knows he’s the greatest.”

Toshinori has been listening silently this whole time, deep in thought. From the solemn frown he was wearing, it seemed some of what you said hit home. But at that last part, he raises his piercing blue eyes to yours.

“You’re wrong… All Might’s smile isn’t about his own ego. He smiles so that people in trouble know everything will be OK. So they don’t feel scared. As long as the hero is still smiling, you know he’s going to win in the end. Being the symbol of peace isn’t about him, it’s about giving the world hope!”

Your heart flutters. It’s not so much the words he said—you’d heard the same line a million times—but the fire in his voice as he said it. Naive as they may be, you can’t help but admire his convictions.

He catches the smile in your eyes, and gives you the biggest, doofiest, triumphant grin. You try to think of something cynical to say to burst that bubble of optimism. You can think of a few: People shouldn’t be symbols, they should be people. That smile is so forced; it’s obvious he’s hiding pain, and you’d rather face the honest truth, no matter how hard, than have hope that’s a lie.

Eh. Maybe you’d tell him later. Right now, you just want him to keep smiling.

“I know!” He rubs his hands together. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you—this way.”

“You cannot take me to a hero museum for a date!” you grimace.

He laughs, grabbing your hand and leading you, “Don’t worry, it’ll be good!”

 ****

The sun is orange in the sky over the ocean, painting the clouds with striking purple and yellow streaks reflected in the waves below. A warm breeze blows your hair back, ruffling Toshinori’s long bangs, and swaying the spiky parts like a field of barley.

“Wow,” you breathe, leaning over the railing of the boardwalk. He leans next to you.

“Better than the restaurant, huh?” he nudges you with his elbow.

“You could’ve at least chosen one of those fancy restaurants where the dishes are tiny, instead of a place you couldn’t eat!”

“Yeah, I really bungled this date thing,” he laughs, hand on his forehead.

How soft would his hair would feel if you twined your fingers through it right now, you wonder? The urge to grab him, and smash your lips against his coils inside you like a spring. But… you’re not sure if he would want that. He’s just so cute!

He offers his arm in a gentlemanly fashion, tipping his head at you. You take it, and stroll together down the steps into the sand and along the beach, the sounds of crashing waves and sea birds like music around you.

“You know, this whole beach used to be covered with trash until about three months ago.

“You know, this whole beach used to be covered with trash until about three months ago. This was never publicized, but it was cleaned up by an aspiring hero who was inspired by All Might. Not everything heroes do is for fame and glory. Sometimes it’s just about helping the community.”

“Then how did you find out about it?”

He blanches. “Huh?”

“If it was never publicized, then how do you know who did it?”

A bright red river ejects from his lips, and he doubles over, hacking. That’s one way to change the subject. You rub his back as he recovers, but instead of helping him relax, he grows rigid and more on-edge.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t do it, if that’s what you’re thinking. You have no idea how much it hurts to see you in pain because of me. Promise me you won’t do it again.”

“I…” You almost swear you weren’t going to. That you won’t, ever again. But… “No. I wish I could tell you that, so you can relax around me and not worry, but I’m not going to make a promise I can’t keep. If you passed out again, or if you were suffering in unbearable agony, if… if you were dying… I would use my power, with or without your permission. There’s no way I could let you die, not if I can do something about it.”

“Young lady…” he purrs, stepping in closer, “I like your spirit, but… I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me. I don’t want anybody else putting themselves through hell trying to be a hero for me.”

There’s a tug on your heart, and before you can stop yourself, you’re up on your toes, hands around his neck, your lips on his. He breathes in, frozen for an agonizing moment. You pull away, bright red, stammering apologies. Then his palm is cupping your jawline, thumb tracing tender circles over your hot cheek. He lowers his forehead, knocking it gently against yours, the side of your nose rubbing against his. His breath, so close, catching. Your eyes close. He angles his head, and kisses you back.

Eventually, you pull away, breathless. Your hands grip his narrow shoulders. “Listen. I appreciate you not wanting me to hurt myself for you. But you can trust me. If I decide to take some of your pain away, it’s because I decided to—get it?”

His face says he doesn’t. You pick up a seashell and toss it into the waves.

“Let me explain. The person this quirk is most dangerous to is its user. The hardest lesson to learn about it is how to say no.

“I was young when All Might debuted, and I loved him back then. His whole noble hero thing—always putting others first, always answering a cry for help, no matter how much danger he was in—I admired it. I wanted to be like that. And when other kids learned that my quirk could take away their scraped knees and bruised elbows, I was in high demand. I don’t think they meant to be selfish—they probably thought I was more resilient to pain as part of my quirk, but I just wanted to smile through it like that dumb bastard on TV. So I just kept taking, and smiling, until I was hooked up to machinery in a hospital bed for two weeks, barely hanging on.”

He grabs onto your hand and squeezes, almost so hard that it hurts. A pained look etches his face. “I’m sorry, I never meant for…”

“Calm down, it’s not like it’s your fault,” you laugh.

He flinches.

“I don’t blame All Might, either. It was my own stupid mistake. That’s how I learned you don’t emulate heroes! Noble sacrifice isn’t. That. Noble.” You poke his chest with your index finger to punctuate each word. “When you have something to offer the world, it’s important to know your limits, and to set boundaries. Because once people learn you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, they’ll take, and take until there’s nothing left.”

Toshinori touches his scar reflexively, fingers spreading protectively, pensively over the destroyed flesh. Then his hand clenches into a fist. “I understand… but still… if someone’s life is at risk, I can’t sit around and do nothing. Someone has to stand up and help, even if it’s dangerous. Someone has to be a hero, so everyone else can live happy lives!”

A smile spreads slowly across your lips. Partly a smile of admiration, from the vestiges of your youthful heart that still loves heroes… and partly the sly smile of a villain just before they dive into a victorious monologue.

“You’re right. That’s why I can’t do nothing if I see you in real trouble. If I decide to use my quirk to ease your pain, it’s not because you asked me to, or because I feel obligated. It’s because I want to. It’s because I weighed the risks, and decided. It hurts me to see you in pain, too, you know.”

His lower lip trembles. Before you know what’s happening, his hand is circling your waist, pulling your hips against his narrow ones, his mouth on yours. His lips are thin and chapped, but warm, making up for their lack of substance by softly giving way as you press against them, parting against yours. You let out a muffled moan. Your hands run over his back, exploring every jagged vertebrae and defined shoulder muscle hidden under his baggy dress shirt, finally coming to rest at the base of his neck, stroking the edge of that soft yellow hair you had longed to feel.

“Are you… using your quirk?” he pants.

“No.”

“Ah. Then this just feels really good.” He holds you tighter.

[arigatouiris]

revenge is a fool’s game // arthur morgan — [04]

pairing: arthur morgan x female!reader

word count: 1941

warnings: strong violence, emotional distress, mentions of torture, rape and sexual abuse, explicit sexual references, a whole lotta angst, cowboy stuff;

notes: i don’t get that many notes on this story but that’s okay! i love arthur, and i love writing so i guess i don’t need notes to update this fic. but, it would help a great deal if you guys would let me know if this story is worth reading? it’d be a boost for motivation as well. anyway, for marvel fans, i’m also writing a bucky barnes fanfiction that’ll be out soon, so be sure to look out for that! 

not following a taglist for this, i can’t seem to keep track of people who ask so just check on my masterlist~

masterlist in bio~

Chapter Four: The Wild West is Filled With Bastards

○

John was slowly making life difficult for her. (y/n) knew that John knew, and even if his words weren’t taken seriously, there was not another soul out there in the world who knew (y/n) was still alive and was disguising herself a woman. John would pass dirty glares at her as she did her regular chores as Riley, forcing Mrs. Grimshaw to smack him a couple of times for slacking off. Sure, (y/n) felt bad for the boy—frustrated that no one took his words seriously, and having everyone believe he was spewing nonsense. 

But, what if someone one day listened to him? What if they get to know that she’s a scrawny little woman who’s after something women shouldn’t be after?

Chills went down her spine each time she thought of such an aftermath. She would have to do something about John, she knew. She would have to worry and think of a plan that can perhaps convince John that she was a man. I can’t convince him, I can’t show him a penis that ain’t there, she thought, frowning to herself as she stacked the pile of hay in front of Dutch’s horse. She was slowly rising into panic, and she knew it was only about time before John loses it and yells that she’s a woman.

However, before any of that could happen, Hosea had a request. Hosea’s request made (y/n) want to almost leave the group, but considering how Dutch insisted as well, she knew she had no other choice.

“Take John wit’ ya. He’s slackin’ off most of the time, and there ain’t much out here that he can do. Buyin’ groceries and medicine might do ‘im some good.” Hosea’s kind voice and kind smile made her feel bad that she was lying to him.

“I ain’t goin’ with her!” John protested, visibly looking livid.

(y/n) felt her insides do a flip. Her gaze turned to Arthur, who chuckled once before slapping the boy’s back.

“You still on with this nonsense, Marston?” Arthur asked.

“It ain’t nonsense, Arthur! Like ya’ll ever believe me. Ask ‘er! Ask ‘er to show ya’ll her penis—”

Another smack.

“That’s enough from you, Marston.” Arthur sighed.

(y/n) was perhaps the only one who was possibly shitting her pants. However, going to town with the boy might change things. To either good (which, she highly doubted) or bad, which was possibly the case.

“Take Arthur’s horse for now. But here,” Hosea came forward and gave (y/n) some money. “Buy yerself a new one. You’ll need it—”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, before returning the money. She pressed her lips together before pulling out her small notebook.

I don’t want to buy a horse. “Buying” sounds wrong. It’s life.

(y/n) blushed before showing it to the man, who chuckled a couple of times.

“Well, then. Let’s hope someone gives one to ya, then.” Hosea joked before turning away.

Arthur didn’t catch hold of the note. John’s words stuck on, but he knew the boy wasn’t being serious. But, to let a joke continue on for so long? Arthur frowned before eyeing Riley from top to bottom, finding no hint of him being a woman like John says so. The baggy shirt that he was wearing was messy, but there was no sign of womanhood on the boy. Sure, he looked ragged and scrawny but he had seen his fair share of scrawny boys. The wild west wasn’t really a place where all boys grew to be men.

He shrugged his thoughts away before minding his own business. If it was anything, then it was Riley’s problem to deal with. Not his.

○

“I hate bein’ paired with you.” John said, frowning.

Because (y/n) had chosen not to take Dutch’s horse, they had taken the carriage instead. John sat beside her, not really wanting to, but there was only so much he could do. Sure, he put up a fight when it came to actually cooperating with her, but (y/n) knew he wouldn’t so much as to raise his voice or disobey Hosea or Dutch. They had raised him, after all.

“You ain’t foolin’ no one, lady.” John said, hoping to instigate some reaction out of (y/n).

She didn’t budge. She kept her gaze straight and her eyes didn’t waver. If only John didn’t pose too much of a threat, she’d have smacked him on the head, herself.

“I don’t get what yer tryin’ ta prove.”

You’ll never understand, either way, she thought before maintaining her composure. She licked her lips once before catching a glimpse of a small town in the front—Fogmount. Tiny, but sufficient. She had the list that Mrs. Grimshaw had given, and she hoped John wouldn’t run off.

She looked at the boy who shot her the meanest glare a 15-year old can conjure, and turned away from him.

“I ain’t runnin’, don’t get yer panties twisted in a bunch.”

Oh, I really wanna hit him now, she thought before frowning. After stopping the carriage near the entrance, she gestured for John to follow. The boy grunted before choosing not to say anything more. The two of them walked inside town, earning a few looks from the locals—for not having seen them before.

This kind of attention sometimes doesn’t sit well with a lot of people. To the naked eye, (y/n) and John, who went by Riley and John, seemed harmless and almost invisible. But, to a crowd that wanted trouble, they seemed like targets. She caught sight of a nasty crowd of men, standing aside and drinking in public, which was quite odd since there was a saloon not too far from where they stood. The men seemed like the type to hit on women that passed them by, making people uncomfortable was what sat well with these folk. 

However, what pissed her off even more was the fact that they choose to drink and cause a fuss in the middle of the day, when no one really expected shit like this to go down.

Her hand flew to John’s wrist, which John only shrugged violently before spitting on the ground in haste.

“I don’t need yer help, lady!” John was a bit too loud, causing her eyes to widen and the other bunch of men to listen.

“You need ta’ stay the hell away from me!”

(y/n) tried once more to pull John away, now noticing the men approaching them, laughing and chortling on their own. John once again pulled back, now stepping back in retaliation, before his back collided with one of the men. There were three in total, but was enough to cause a distraction. She really didn’t need this right now.

John gasped before the man grabbed his collar from the back, and yanked him aside, forcing John to stand straight and put an arm over his shoulder.

“Ya heard the little man, lady,” the man mimicked John’s insult. “Leave ‘im alone.”

The men behind him laughed, but John wasn’t. A sudden rush of adrenaline hit the boy, and she had hoped that the situation wouldn’t escalate. Another man approached her before grabbing her collar.

“Why’s a mangy mutt like yerself in our town?”

“Yeah, never seen ‘em before.” Another one joined in.

John struggled, in the meanwhile, knowing (y/n) couldn’t talk back. However, when she didn’t reply, the man holding her collar, punched her squarely in the face. John froze before seeing (y/n) fall to the ground, blood coming out of her mouth. If there was any bit of anger that was in him, it went away as he watched her get back up and plead for John to be released.

“Ya can’t talk or somethin’?” The man who punched her mocked.

“Get away from ‘im, you bastards!” John screamed, before kicking the man’s foot, and running to (y/n).

“Let’s get outa’ here, Riley.” John sounded scared, but he didn’t want to seem like it.

However, that wasn’t the men’s plan. One of them grabbed John again, but before John felt the punch come, (y/n) had kicked the man’s shin and pushed him to the ground. Before a second thought, her fist went flying to the man who punched her, and hit him squarely below the jawline, shocking him, and using her other hand to hit him again, knocking him to the ground.

The third man who had held John, rushed forward, but she was too quick. She went behind the man and grabbed his hand before twisting it uncharacteristically, and kicking him behind the knee, knocking him down. She used her right hand and hit him hard on the nape of his neck, knocking him down as well.

She then turned, grabbed John’s hand and rushed back to the carriage. She knew now was her chance, and feeling terrible about not getting Mrs. Grimshaw’s things, (y/n) sat John down beside her and raced back to the camp. John, not having said a word the whole while, didn’t know what to say. He looked at (y/n)’s bleeding mouth and nose, bruised face, discolored and ugly from the punch that sent her to the ground, and turned away with shame. It was his fault. This had happened because he failed to cooperate.

There were always going to be terrible goons in the world. And he was saved by someone he had teased constantly for being a woman. John wouldn’t admit it, he had seen the bandages inside her tent one night, but had never told anyone. Perhaps, for saving his life that day, he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t apologize to Riley. He just wouldn’t aggravate the situation as he had earlier. It was not his call to make, whether Riley was a woman or not. Even if she was a woman, she had saved his life, knocking three men twice her size down to the ground. And if he had any self-respect, which John believed he had, he would not make her anymore uncomfortable than he already had.

When the two of them reached the tent empty handed, Mrs. Grimshaw wanted to yell. But, once her eyes fell on Riley’s bruised and bloody face and John having been untouched, she knew what had happened. Riley gave her a helpless smile, a smile that hurt him as he stretched his lip, Mrs. Grimshaw shushed him.

“John, be grateful.” Was all she said, before grabbing Riley’s scrawny wrist and leading him away to mend him.

Dutch and Hosea noticed Riley’s face and scolded John, demanding him to tell them both what had happened. John was quiet, and it was only after Arthur came and placed a comforting shoulder on the younger boy did John even begin to speak. Tears pooled in his eyes, but he dared not to let them fall.

“Riley helped me. There were these bastards,” John sniffed before continuing, “Drunk all of ‘em. He beat ‘em to the ground. He saved me from bein’ beaten too.”

His hands were clenched and John hated the position he was in.

“No girl coulda done that,” Dutch said, laughing.

Arthur noticed John’s expression. John wasn’t just feeling helpless, the boy was feeling regret. Regret for being bullied? Nah, Arthur thought before heading out of Dutch’s tent and looking at Mrs. Grimshaw mend Riley. He didn’t believe John’s words before, he knew that for sure. There was no reason for a woman to dress up like a man and go around asking to kill Colm o’Driscoll. If there was something, then there was something more than what Arthur could figure out on his own.

It was not his problem, he told himself in the end and let it go.

[justsomebucky]

The Three Date Minimum - 2

Summary: Reader is the last single person at her office, and while she puts on a good front, she’s lonely. Will dating apps find true love, or will she swear off romance for good?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,377

Warnings: language, drinking, minor angst?, fluff…this is fluff.

A/N: Please enjoy this chapter. Have some bartender!Bucky.  Also - please note that I tried everything to fix this stupid spacing issue. I would recommend reading on a normal browser or your mobile browser (or Ao3) and not in the app.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be in that neighborhood, can you believe it? The bus was late and I had to make sure my daughter got to school okay so I just drove her myself. So anyway, there I was just minding my own business, and out of nowhere I see –”

DING!

“I’m so sorry,” you said, offering a forced smile to the guy across the table. “I think our time is up.”

Your current speed date, Scott Lang, looked genuinely disappointed that he couldn’t finish his story about the time he met some famous somebody-or-other.

“Definitely rating this date as my best of the night, so far,” Scott said as he stood, reaching for your hand to give it a peck. “It was great to meet you, Y/N.”

“It was nice to meet you, too.” You tried to force a smile to your face for his sake. “Take care, Scott.”

He flashed another boyish grin and gave you a wave before awkwardly wandering over to his next date’s table.  

Well, now you felt awful. It wasn’t that he was a bad or boring guy, it’s just…there wasn’t any spark. Maybe that was stupid, but it was how you felt. And while you believed him when he said his daughter was an angel, you weren’t ready to be a step-mom.

Anyway, first speed-dating experience wasn’t all that great, just as you had predicted.

Your dates so far were a lawyer who seemed suspiciously interested in your driving record, a dentist who tried to get you to show him your teeth and then commented that he could see the plaque from across the table, a guy who had just moved to New York following some time spent in jail for insider trading ('white collar crimes barely count' according to him), someone who couldn’t stop talking about his mother, and now Scott Lang, nice guy extraordinaire. To be fair, Scott was the best of the bunch.

Meanwhile, Natasha looked like she was having the time of her life. She had so many free drinks and more than once you saw guys arguing when their time was up and they didn’t want to leave her table.

Wearily, you glanced at the clock on the wall. There was still another forty-five minutes to go.

For a bar called The 107th in the middle of Brooklyn, you would have thought the experience would be a little more interesting. It was new place, supposedly trendy, and had a confusing name (it wasn’t on 107th street??), but to you it seemed like a normal local bar.

And even after your last semi-decent date, the thought of going through yet another three-minute introduction with someone new made you anxious. Before the next guy could get to your table, you gathered your coat and bag and ripped off your name tag, making your way over to the bar.

---

“What’re you having?”

You eyed the bartender, not bothering to reply just yet since you were mid-sip. He must have just started his shift, because when you first arrived there was a tiny woman with mermaid hair tending to customers.

The alcohol was just a band-aid for the situation, really. You never used it as a crutch, but some situations called for a little backup. It was liquid courage for some, and a little liquid tolerance for you.

When you put the now-empty glass back down, you pushed it toward him like you were in some kind of cowboy movie. “Rum and coke.”

He gave a nod and turned away to refill your drink, looking a little bored with your choice.

You let your eyes flicker up to the mirror above the shelves and shelves of liquor. Behind you, the speed-dating was just wrapping up with the final round. The results would be handed out soon; you hoped Scott Lang had found someone better suited for him.

As for you? Most of your time had been spent at the bar and Natasha hadn’t even noticed.

“I heard a rumor that dating used to be an organic thing,” the bartender mused, breaking you out of your reverie. He set your new drink in front of you. “You know, meeting someone, feeling a spark, going on a first date…”

You shook your head. “That’s not how it works anymore. It’s the digital era of dating. Now you’ve got to have a pristine profile complete with model-level selfies to gain anyone’s attention, or come to shit like this in a basic bar and hope someone finds you tolerable.”

He didn’t seem offended by your little insult. “You’re a part of that group, right? So why are you sitting over here instead of talking to your last date?”

Your brows furrowed a little. “You ask a lot of questions for a bartender. Is that normal?”

He gave you an amused look. “Just curious. These events cost money, right?”

“They do,” you confirmed. “But the only reason I’m here is because my roommate paid. She caught me watching TV in my pajamas on a Friday night again and she wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed to go.”

“Nice. So which one is she?” The bartender leaned over, arms resting on the bar top as his eyes scanned the crowd.

There was no point in hiding her. He would have spotted her eventually, anyways.

You reluctantly spun on your barstool and found her almost immediately. Her megawatt smile lit up the room; how could anyone possibly miss her in a crowd?

“There,” you said, pointing. “Natasha, the beautiful redhead standing over in that corner.” You glanced back at him to see him squinting that direction.

Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to instantly drool over her like everyone else tends to. That confused you, since he wasn’t unfortunate-looking himself.He would definitely be her type.

“So if she’s your friend and she brought you here to help you, why has she not noticed you over here drinking all alone?”

The barstool squeaked as you turned back around. “Because this is what happens.”

He stared at you blankly.

“She gets the attention,” you explained, taking another sip. “I get the hangover.”

Your nosy bartender didn’t look convinced. “How do you figure that? Didn’t you just have a few speed dates?”

“Yes, but they’re in rotation, they had to come to my table. She literally had guys fighting to have more than three minutes with her.”

He made a face but didn’t say anything, so you continued.

“And I know because it’s happened always. Every friend I’ve ever had has been more enticing than me, from high school all the way through college, where my roommate then was also a bombshell who turned heads everywhere she went. I’m so used to being invisible that it’s second nature.”

“Well…I’d say your name in a scolding tone, but you ripped your name tag off already.” He shifted on his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. “It sounds to me like you’re making excuses to protect yourself. When is the last time you put in any effort? Do you just brush everyone off? Do you even try?”

“Try?”

“Let yourself be open to the possibilities?”

The possibilities? What the hell was with this guy? Was he some kind of failed psych major? It took all your strength not to splash your drink in his face and leave. He was lucky you were trying to be nice.

You could feel your blood pressure rise. “First of all, whatever your name is, I don’t think you know me well enough to sit behind your bar counter and judge me!”

The corner of his mouth lifted a little in amusement. And no, he was most definitely not more attractive in that moment. Absolutely not.

“Name’s James, but my friends call me Bucky.” His head tilted a little and you saw that his eyes were a cool blue-grey color, with just a little obnoxious twinkle in them. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, do you try?” He had that stupid, infuriating little hint of a smile again. God, it was amazing that this place was still in business with an obnoxious guy like him at the bar.

“Yes, I try. I just sat through five three-minute dates, for fuck’s sake. I just…I’m not meant for anything like that.”

“You know when I said try, I didn’t mean actively push people away.” Both eyebrows raised as he assessed you again. “Because I think that’s exactly what you’re doing, even with me right now.”

The door opened then, and a huge crowd of women donning matching pink shirts walked in giggling with a girl wearing a sash that said Bride. That was your cue to get the hell out of that bar.

You downed the rest of your drink quickly, offering him a small fake smile as you set the glass down. “Yes, well…I think I’m going to swipe left on this conversation. It’s been…enlightening, James.” You reached into your bag to pull out some money, but the bartender waved his hands.

“Call me Bucky. And it’s on the house. You seem like you needed it.” With a nod and wink, he turned away again to make the million shots a newly-arrived bachelorette party wanted.

As if you would ever accept something for free from someone with that attitude…

“Thanks anyway, James,” you muttered. Without a glance back to him, you set the money on the bar and stood up, determined to either pull Natasha away or leave her there.

---

“One date down, two to go.” You stretched your legs out under the table and leaned back. Wanda wanted to hear all about the event the night before, so the two of you went to a nearby café for a quick lunch.

Wanda eyed you over her coffee cup. “That only counted as one date?”

“Apparently,” you muttered, picking at your scone. “Natasha’s rules.”

She leaned forward. “Got any ideas for the next two?”

“No, not unless you know someone?”

“There are lots of someones on dating apps, Y/N.”

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. “Wan, not now.”

“Come on,” she chided, gently pulling your hands away from your face. “If you give some of the apps a try, I’ll…I’ll do your donation calls for a week.”

That had you interested. Not only could you potentially be left alone for a month, but have less work to do. “Two weeks, one for each remaining date.”

Wanda held out her hand and you shook it.

She had the nerve to look genuinely excited, that absolute witch. “First I think we’ll try Tinder. My neighbor’s husband’s sister met the love of her life…”

You sighed as you tuned her out, trying to enjoy your last moments of Tinder-free life.

---

After lunch, Wanda came over and teamed up with Natasha to harass you until you agreed to download the dating apps.They helped set up your account, even forced you to take about fifty pictures before they were satisfied with your profile.

“Wait, what do I do?” You glared down at the offending app on your phone, trying to ignore the nervous feeling in your stomach.

Natasha flopped down on the couch next to you. “When you see a profile of someone you’re interested in, you swipe right. If they swiped right on you too, it’ll tell you that you’ve made a match.”

“What’s the blue star thing for?”

“A super like!” Wanda’s eyes lit up. “I wonder if you will find any of those!”

Unlikely.

“So, in theory, I could like all these people and they could loathe me and I would never know?” That didn’t sound so bad. It was like less hurtful window shopping.

“Sometimes you’ll get the occasional douchebag and you’ll have to put up with bad messages, but yes, that’s generally how that works.”

You played around on the app in silence for about five minutes, going through and swiping left on most of the profiles you read.

“What was wrong with that last one?” Wanda asked, frowning at you. “He seemed cute? He had a kayak and a puppy! You love puppies.”

The last one she was talking about was also wearing a shirt that said Federal Boob Investigator, but leave it to the romantic to not notice that.

“Just wasn’t feeling it.”

Natasha scoffed. “Are you gonna swipe right on anyone?”

You gave her a look. “Maybe.”

Before you could react, Nat grabbed your phone from your hand and started swiping right on almost everyone with a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Stop it! You’ll make me look desperate,” you screeched, trying to grab the phone back.

She let out a gasp, then turned the phone to you. “Y/N! Look at this guy. Look at him! His name is Wade and he is perfect!”

He was handsome enough, but his profile was pretty weird. “No, Natasha. He probably thinks he’s hilarious and has deep-rooted abandonment issues or something.”

“Exactly. You need someone different and exciting like that. We’re getting you out of your comfort zone, remember?”

You watched in horror as she swiped right.

Then, that wicked gleam in her eye got even brighter as she showed the screen again.

“It’s a match!”

“Natashaaaa….”

“Oh shit, he messaged you already!”

“He did?” You snatched the phone back, crawling over her to get away. You didn’t want to admit it, but your stomach was in knots. “Oh my god, he did!”

“What’s it say?” Wanda leaned over. “Read it!”

“He wants to see me tomorrow.”

You read the message over and over. A handsome guy, who most definitely probably definitely had some issues but also seemed cute and funny, wanted to see you.

God, you hoped you didn’t regret this.

When you glanced back up, they were both staring at you. Something about this whole situation seemed too good to be true. There was no way in hell that anything would last.

Logically, if you went into it thinking it was just a one-time date with a hot guy, there wouldn’t be a problem, right?

“Well?”

“Are you gonna reply?”

And if there weren’t feelings involved, you could stand to have a little fun.

You grinned at them. “Of course. I have two bets to win now, don’t I?”

---

Part 3

Masterlist

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[stephenjaymorrisblog]

Tribal War in Pomona

(From my manuscript, “Nobody Rules”)

“This all happened in the fall of 1982”

By..

Stephen Jay Morris

©Scientific Morality

October 17, 2019

 Late in the afternoon on a smoggy Saturday, we loaded our vehicles and drove out to Pomona.  It was an hour and a half drive from Pasadena.  We drove along the outskirts of L.A. County, made up primarily of flatland and miles upon miles of industrial cities with lower middle class neighborhoods.  You wondered why people lived in those places until you realized that California real estate is historically overpriced.  So, if you want to live in the Golden State, anywhere is still California.  Places like El Monte are much cheaper than West Los Angeles.

But, where we were headed was in middle of nothingness. We, as the Traitors, had played there two years earlier, at a storefront in the Pomona Mall.  It was the only gig we ever played where we got paid!  Back then, the so-called punk scene in Pomona was nothing more than some goofy white kids pretending to be British punks!  It was innocent fun.  They were our audience and the only distasteful thing they did was to spit on and heckle us.  Nothing I couldn’t handle.  It was messy and disgusting, though.

Now, two years down the line, things got ugly.  The gig was again at the Pomona Mall, but this time in some art center.  We were opening up for these punk and post-punk bands.  There was no stage; we played on the cement floor with a cheap sound system.  Bill used to put on these concerts so the local kids wouldn’t have to travel all the way to Hollywood.

We were up first.  At 8 o’clock, the art center doors opened.  Most of the kids, who were dressed punk to the core, came piling in. This was a big deal because nothing ever happened in Pomona.  Suddenly, a group of these mean-looking skinheads came in as a gang.  They were bald and Jack-booted—trying too hard to be big bad thugs.  They literally shoved people out of their way.  I knew all about these types and I wasn’t afraid of them.

My hair was long and my face was unshaven because I was lazy. No, that’s not true.  I intentionally looked like a hippie because I knew it annoyed punks!  Our whole band looked like the Grateful Dead.  I got tired of getting haircuts and shaving everyday, so I just let it go. I was in my late twenties and I had a lot of testosterone in my balls and adrenaline in my belly.  I was a barbarian!  An anti-racist fanatic and these puny dicks represented everything I hated!

When I hit the stage…uh…the floor, I mutated into this wild man.  I don’t what it was.  Rock and roll brought the primordial animal out of me.  Rock and roll will do that. In a modern day warfare situation, before engaging in battle, the commanding officer will yell out, “Okay, men! Let’s rock and roll!!”  I was about to go into battle myself.  In the depths of my Id were visions of Klansmen hanging southern blacks from trees and memories of white hardhats beating up anti-war protestors!  These shaved kids were just misguided delinquents who romanticized the British skinheads.  In my little way, I was going to make a statement against them.  At this time in my life I was not a pacifist, but I wasn’t a street brawler, either.  I had a microphone stand and I was going to use it!  I was ready for them.

We went into our first song, which was a hardcore grunge-slash-punk tune that was fast and loud, “Barrio!”  The crowd of regular punks liked it.  The skinheads were mocking my movements and facial expressions.  They were flipping me the bird.  Strange thing though:  there was this invisible line between the audience and us.  The skinheads never crossed it!  They started to heckle me.  I retorted.  I tired to be as obnoxious and insulting as I could.

“WHY DON’T YOU CUT YOUR HAIR, YOU HIPPIE FAGGOT!”

I responded, “WHY DON’T YOU CUT YOUR THROAT!”  I shouted some real verbal bombs:  “KILL ALL PUNKS!!!”  “HIPPIES RULE!”  “I’M JEWISH!”  “IT’S SURE NICE TO BE HERE!” “GAY POWER!”  “MOVE OUT OF YOUR MOMMY’S HOUSE!”  “GROW YOUR HAIR LONG FOR JESUS!”

A couple of skinheads invited me to cross the invisible barrier to fight them.  “You come here, you hairless queer!” I said. By our second song, “Quicksand,” they realized they weren’t going to intimidate me.  Pat stood beside me and gave them cold stares.  Tom was laughing and Mickey looked nervous.  Tim was in his own drummer world.  The skinheads got frustrated.  By the third song, they started to beat each other!  The room cleared out into the parking lot.  The skinheads went on a rampage!  When the last kid left the room, the door was shut and locked.

Bill told me that the skinheads were a local gang called, “The Manson Gang.”  They liked to go to concerts and parties and disrupt them.  They’d start shit for their own amusement!

Outside, the skinheads set a Salvation Army collection box on fire.  Man, talk about goofy vandalism!  The windows were covered up, so we couldn’t see what was going on outside.  I peeked through a keyhole.  The Pomona Police showed up in squad cars, their sirens sounding.  Helicopters were hovering over the area, their lights beaming down onto the parking lot.  Finally, they cleared the area.

We were left standing in this room for an hour. During our third song, Tom had stopped playing and hid behind his girlfriend.  Mickey hated this incident and said he never wanted to play in Pomona again.  Pat thought it was amusing. So did I.  Pat had played in front of these types of crowds before. Tim wanted to kill the skinheads! He was pissed!  Someone later told me that that night’s riot became legendary in Pomona.

I went home feeling energized.  We took the rest of the year off.  The holidays were looming.

[arrogvnces]

          he is exhausted, slowly but surely reaching his tipping point. sinclair can’t wrap his mind around how they all have time to gossip at this point in the semester. he is drowning in homework, for the first time in his life. his desk back at the dorm finally has some personality, in the shape of scattered books and chewed up pens lying about. as if he’s never heard of time management or cleaning as a relaxing method. there must be some cheat sheet they’re passing around without his knowledge; there has to be something to explain why. why do they love to waste their time whispering behind his back. he knows the news are still recent --- only a couple days have passed since simon stabbed him in the back and dragged his corpse through campus. only a couple of days since he woke up with henrietta in his arms. . . well, getting herself out of them, that is. he’s barely had the time or energy to register and deal with it, so he must be missing something.

          he ponders on it, hurriedly exiting his financial markets class, dreaming high and spirit low when a block on the road appears. a literal block in the road, in the shape of a tall and wide baseball player that stares him down hard enough to burn holes into his cashmere sweater. around them, a few students slow down their pace to eye them curiously. sinclair wonders if he’s died and woken up in high school, all over again. shaking his head, he tries to sidestep calvin, but the boy steps in front of him, again. he doesn’t bother to look him in the eye, just forces his way through until he’s pushed back, nearly hitting the wall behind him as the other smirks. it hits a nerve, as he digs his heels in the floor, refusing to leave now.

          “are you just gonna’ stand there like an idiot, or are you going to tell me what this is all about?” he asks, gaze fleeting to calvin’s team in the back, emily who believes she’s invisible in the front of row with her neon pink top and the rest of the freshmen who’ve clearly missed this part of school. 

          “i’m trying to figure out if you’re deaf, or if you have a death wish,” calvin answers, stepping forward menacingly, nearly insulting sinclair. does he think his name is just a name? that he’s just another wealthy boy that can be intimidated? 

          “if i have to ask a third time, we might have to look into how you got in this college.” childish oohs and aahs echo in the small crowd, their teacher passing them by without bothering to look once at the commotion. smart man. he’s too far away when calvin shoves his index finger in sinclair’s chest, voice too low for anyone else to hear. there are no tremors or volatile emotions, this time around.

          “i told you to stay away from her, park. i told you she’s mine, that she loves me and there’s nothing you could do to get in between us.” the seconds tick away, sinclair’s dark pupils stuck on calvin’s features, before a slow and mischiveous grin blooms behind bitten lips. he’s not sure what he’s done exactly, but the very idea of having something over his apparent nemesis makes him at peace.

          “she’s yours?” he repeats as a question, a frown accompanying his smile. “she loves you? as far as i remember the story going, she dumped you. she came to me, so clearly there’s a lot that can get in between you two. is this all this is about? your break-up? because i’d love to go do some readin---”

          “maybe it is for the best,” calvin relents, taking a few steps back, his voice louder, and sinclair feels his jaw tense. “i mean, not even two hours after i dumped her, she went to your room and only got out in the morning right?”

          “what are you talking about?” his vision grants him the ability to see mouths drop, necks crane and fingers type of phones faster than it should be possible. he fixes the boy with a harsh stare, warning him of his next choice of words.

         “you live in a dorm, sinclair. did you really expect no one to see her do the walk of shame, half-drunk at six in the morning?” his teammaters snicker behind him, egging him on. “you two really do deserve each other. weren’t you going around fucking girls, telling them you were single and giving them hope meanwhile you had a whole fiancée? and henri, who would happily sit on my face but couldn’t tell me she was engaged. is that what gets you two off? being sluts? do you ---”

          “what did you,” sinclair stutters, blinking a few times, disbelief hitting him like a freight train. “what did you just call her?” he can’t no longer mind those around them. he knows that’s exactly what they think of him and henrietta. he doesn’t mind being insulted like that, especially when it is half true. he did play those girls, because there was no way he could tell them the real truth. but calvin. . . calvin knows the truth. he knows they didn’t want to do this --- that henrietta was loyal to him. sinclair wants to tell himself that the other is hurt. he’s hurt, because his relationship is over; because someone told him something happened, when it is farther from the truth. he wants, more than anything, for calvin to not say it again. he feels his hands ball up into fists behind his back. 

          “he said your girl is a slut,” another player hollers from the back, drawing out the team’s loud laughter. sinclair sees calvin’s jaw clench, his gaze fleet towards the wall. he gives him another moment to take it back. 

          “are you going to let them say this about henri? are you going to say it?” he asks, quietly under the noise. he takes a step forward towards calvin, forcing the boy’s attention back onto him. “when you know that’s not true?” 

          calvin sighs. 

          one.

          two. 

          three. 

          “who says it isn’t?” 

          sinclair’s fist flies. he winces from the pain in the collision with calvin’s nose. it flares up to his shoulder, the victim stumbling back, two hands covering his face as blood slowly drips out onto the floor. the crowd gasps, the team goes silent. calvin stares for a moment at the blood on his hands. sinclair does, too. it’s the second time he’s ever hit someone. the first time that it isn’t self-defense. 

          “you’re dead,” calvin warns him, straightening up and marching back with purpose. sinclair’s stunned, until the other’s bloody fist collides with his jaw and the world goes blurry. 

[aticklishtem]

The Bud of the Joke

((Request for @uniquemagicman ! Hope you like!! ^w^))

“Cagney, c’mon, open up.”

“No,” he answered, voice muffled by the petals stubbornly closed around his face. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

He heard Hilda sigh, and he could just picture her rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen you. I saw you just this morning, and you look fine.”

“And I already told ya, I ain’t dragging my roots all the way over to the next isle just so folks can gawp like I’m the latest attraction in the freak show.” Hilda had been convinced that a trip to the carnival would lift Cagney’s spirits, but how could he face the prying eyes of the funfair crowds in the sorry state he was in? His usually magnificent crowning glory of petals was a ragged mess, his leaves were limp and lifeless, and the cold gave him the sniffles something awful. He hated winter.

“Stars above, you’re such a drama queen.” Cagney scoffed, because that was rich coming from someone who literally transformed into a raging bull when she got a bee in her bonnet, but Hilda continued: “But that’s not it. I got something here that just might buck you up.”

“Really?” Cagney somehow doubted that, but it piqued his interest, so he peeled back a single petal to squint suspiciously at her, perched on her cloud looking back at him all sincere with her big moon eyes. “What is it?”

“Come outta there and see for yourself.”

Cagney grumbled quietly to himself, but he unfurled his petals to bare his his face once again, shivering against the bitter chill in the air. Hilda smiled and nodded encouragingly, gesturing to the grass below her, and Cagney glanced down to be met with what had to be the tiniest top hat he’d ever seen.

“...That’s it? You got me a hat?” Cagney stared down at the offending item in equal parts dismay and disbelief – he knew that dame had her head in the clouds, but this was something else. “Hilda, I’m a flower, and that thing’s never gonna –“

“Surprise!” 

He almost jumped right out of the ground as the hat exploded in a shower of confetti, a blare of seemingly invisible noisemakers and a flash of red, white and blue that somersaulted into the air before landing in front of him, catching the hat and placing it back on a now very familiar, shiny, grinning head with a flourish.

“Cagney, my good bud – it’s been too long! How’s it growing? Did you miss me? Were ya surprised?!”

“Oh, hey, it’s Beppi! You sure...surprised me, alright.” Cagney managed a slightly dazed smile, the eternal questions of what, how, and why still spinning through his mind as Beppi clasped one of his leafy hands with both of his smaller ones and shook effusively. “To what do we owe this, uh, pleasure?”

“Well, y’see, a little Bergie might’ve told me…” Beppi winked unsubtly at Hilda, “that you’ve been a teensy bit under the weather lately.”

“Did they now?” Really, Cagney should’ve known. “Can’t imagine who’s been telling you that, but I’m fi–“

“He’s done nothing but mope around the forest being all cranky for weeks now ‘cause he thinks the cold makes him ugly,” Hilda cut in, oh so helpfully; Cagney shot her his most withering look, but she simply stuck her nose in the air. “Well, ya have!”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh – winter blues, classic.” Beppi nodded, humming thoughtfully to himself before clapping his hands together, dialling his smile back up to its usual megawatts. “Time to perk up those petals, my flowery friend, ‘cause laughter is the best medicine - and Doctor Beppi’s in the house to cure what ails ya! Or in the field, in this case.” He glanced around, taking a moment to admire the scenery. “So, this place is looking swell! Just look at all these lovely blooms. What’s your secret?”

Cagney shrugged. “I take care of ‘em. But it’s seen better days.” He always did pride himself on keeping his patch the neatest, brightest, most fragrant in the isle, but he hadn’t been able to protect his non-sentient flowers from yesterday’s snowfall, under which most of them were currently buried.

“Modesty? Who are you, and what have you done with Cagney Carnation?!” Beppi mock-gasped, pointing an accusing finger at him before continuing: “Seriously, though. The other day, I was actually thinking of planting a few flowers myself.”

“You don’t say?” Cagney cocked an eyebrow; somehow, he didn’t strike him as the green-fingered type. Red or blue-fingered, maybe.

“Sure! But then I got home, and I realised…” Beppi paused for effect, holding up his hands in a shrug as he delivered the punchline: “I hadn’t botany.”

Hilda collapsed dramatically on her cloud in a fit of loud, exaggerated cackles. Cagney considered telling her not to give up the day job, but unfortunately for him it was all the encouragement Beppi needed.

“You like that one? Maybe next time I’ll bring along my pal – he’s a mushroom. A real fungi.”

Cagney stifled a sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Beppi…”

“Vegetable jokes too corny? Don’t worry, I’m just pollen your stem.”

“Beppi.” It came out sharper than Cagney intended, and he felt a prickle of guilt when Beppi visibly deflated – it wasn’t that he didn’t like the fella, but it was all fine and dandy for him. He didn’t have petals to preen, or even a hair on his air-filled head. “Look, I appreciate...whatever it is you’re doing here, but save it for the kiddies, okay? You don’t gotta worry about me – either of you. It’s just biology. Winter don’t agree with me, but there’s no sense in lettin’ me ruin your fun. Might as well run along and I’ll see ya in the spring.”

Beppi fell uncharacteristically – almost suspiciously – silent, his bicolour brows knitting together as he exchanged a look with Hilda Cagney couldn’t quite read.

“Okay, pal, I get it,” he said, still smiling but a little more subdued as he sidled closer and tentatively placed a hand on Cagney’s stem. “It’s a thorny issue, huh? But we can’t just leaf you here alone to wither away all winter. We’re your friends, and by golly, we’re gonna try our darnedest to pick you up, whatever it takes!”

He punctuated the pick with a light squeeze to Cagney’s stem, sending an unexpected tingly jolt through him that made him jump before he could help it. Cagney would’ve passed it off as the cold, but of course Beppi was onto him immediately, intrigue and delight flickering to life in his piercing gaze.

“Oh? Do I spy the seedling of a smile already?”

“No! I mean...yes?” Cagney hesitated, cursing himself internally for the brief display of weakness – even if he held back from reacting, he’d probably only be subjected to more terrible jokes. But that was proving more difficult with Beppi’s fingers still curled precariously around his stem, beginning to drum a gentle, teasing rhythm that was absolutely not helping the stupid grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. And judging from the way Beppi’s smile shifted from caring concern into something altogether more sinister, his situation was about to get a whole lot worse.

“Well, in that case, plenty more where that came from!” he declared cheerfully, and Cagney abruptly burst into scratchy guffaws as Beppi increased the tempo, fingers digging in and dancing up and down his stem - his thorns were usually enough to deter anyone foolish enough to think about tickling him, but they were utterly failing to protect him now. “Oooh, I got one! What did the bee say to the flower?”

“I don’t cahahahare!” Cagney squirmed and pushed at his arms in an attempt to shake him off, but Beppi clung onto him like a particularly persistent, tickly little bug. “Knock it ohohohoff!”

“‘Hey there, honey!’” Cagney tried to groan at the punchline, but it wasn’t nearly as effective melting into giggles when Beppi switched to tracing feathery circles around his thorns. “Boy, that one really hit the spot, huh? I know I got some real rib-ticklers, but this is ridiculous! Hmm – does a flower have ribs, I wonder?”

“That’s the wohohohorst…!” Being forced to laugh at that ‘joke’ only added insult to injury, as well as the embarrassing shriek Cagney let out when Beppi pinched at the sensitive spot under his leaves.

“Hihihihildahahaha!” he pleaded, twisting around to look desperately to his so-called friend as she reclined on her cloud, watching and smirking like Cagney’s suffering was just one big joke. “Li-ihihihittle help here?!”

“Oh, you need some help there, Cags?” Hilda batted her eyelashes innocently, flashing him a smile Cagney would’ve recognised as dangerous if he hadn’t been a little preoccupied trying to fend off the tickle-hungry harlequin still going to town on his stem. “Sure thing, I’d love to!” She drifted over and started scratching her nails lightly over the delicate undersides of his petals.

“Trahahahahaitor!” Cagney screeched, leafy limbs flailing wildly as he batted at her, but the sly little minx was too quick for him and this – this was just pure garden cruelty, feeling his face burning an unflattering shade of scarlet that he attempted to disguise by burying it in his petals.

“No way, mister – you’re not hiding away from me this time!” For such a petite little thing, Hilda was surprisingly strong, pushing Cagney’s petals back to leave him exposed while her other hand scribbled at the top of his stem. “Let the world admire these pretty, ticklish lil’ petals!”

“Couldn’t agree more, Bergie,” Beppi chirped, prodding along the leaves at the base of Cagney’s stem; he would’ve uprooted himself by now to get away, but he was too darn weak from laughter, helpless under the combined efforts of sixteen wicked fingers teasing and tormenting all his most vulnerable spots. “And would ya look at this big, strong stem – we got the cream of the crop right here, for sure! Hey, that reminds me: what kind of flower grows on your face?”

“Gee, I don’t know, Beppi!” Hilda trilled, like half of Inkwell’s most diabolical double act. “What kind of flower does grow on your face?”

“Tu-lips!”

“I swehehehehear I’m gonna –“ Cagney couldn’t even finish the threat as they pounced to blow simultaneous, deadly raspberries; Beppi’s loud and sloppy against his stem and Hilda’s light and fast and fluttery all over his petals, vibrating relentlessly from his crown all the way down to his roots. Cagney finally lost it, uncontrollable, incoherent cackles and snorts and pleas for mercy pouring out until his stem gave out just as Hilda planted her last loving raspberry to his top petal. Beppi only just managed to jump out of the way fast enough to avoid getting popped on Cagney’s thorns as he collapsed to the floor in a gangly, giggly heap.

“D-dihirty cheaters, the both of ya,” he grumbled, after recovering enough strength to stand again, but not quite enough to shake the wobbly grin that lingered along with a few remaining tingles as he folded his arms with a huff.

Hilda giggled and pinched his still-flushed cheek playfully. “Aww, Cags, you’re just as cute as a bug’s ear. Told ya I knew how to cheer him up.” She winked at Beppi, and the pair exchanged an irritatingly smug high-five.

“Always happy to lend a helping hand or two, Bergie.” Beppi tipped his hat and shot Cagney an equally cheeky smile. “And, I gotta say, I think tickled pink’s a good look on you, bud.”

This time, Cagney grinned back, baring his sharp teeth and fluttering his long, leafy fingers challengingly at him. “Go ahead, funny guy – make one more pun. I dare ya.”

Beppi opened his mouth, but then seemed to think better of it – probably the most sensible decision he’d ever made – and raised his hands in surrender, shuffling backwards with a nervous titter.

“Tempting, tempting – but actually, I’d better skedaddle. Might’ve left some balloon gators floating around and lemme tell ya, those guys get snappy. But you two’ll still come stop by my show later tonight, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hilda said brightly. “Would we, Cags?”

Cagney made a noncommittal hmmm noise, thinking of all those people, but it was harder to hold out with two pairs of wide, hopeful puppy-dog eyes gazing at him. “Yeah, alright...maybe. If I’m not pruning my leaves tonight.”

He had to admit, when Hilda looped her arm in his with an affectionate squeeze and Beppi’s smile lit up his face with genuine gratitude, brighter than all the lights in his carnival, the idea of getting out of the forest didn’t seem quite as unappealing as it had done.

More importantly, though – Cagney still owed them both a heaping helping of revenge.

[bulletpunchcut]

Call Me Maybe (With @InMyOwnMhis)

Jagger: -The air had a crisp quality to it, the kind that made you want to fill your lungs because the oxygen content was notable. It made me feel alive. Oh, irony, you satirical bitch. My state of body was robust while I sought out my destination for the night:  The Iron Mask. My reconnaissance over the course of several evenings had pinpointed the goth hang as a likely locale for the source, or at least close to it. I’d tailed one of the enemy with gritted teeth, his scent so strong it singed my nostrils, guy was the Pig Pen of lessers and gave the pungence of bleu cheese a new lease on pleasant. His carelessness was my boon. He’d had a wad in his pocket that could only be bills when he’d disappeared around the backside. When he’d strolled back a short twenty ticks of the minute hand later, the pocket had greatly atrophied. I’d observed the routine for long enough to confirm some sort of connection. My will power was tested beyond normal limits as I watched the enemy disappear. I need not draw any attention by becoming some vigilante for this new enterprising group of lessers. After several toe taps of impatience and two nights, I’d decided it was time to disappear inside the heart of the beast, and I was seeing the place with new eyes. It wasn’t just a vampire friendly club pumping industrial through the speakers, it was a well veiled front for something bigger, something I wanted no part of. Was it possible vampires were in bed with lessers? My moves would have to be calculated. I slinked through the shadows, in and out of dark corners meant to give privacy for sex, drugs or the whatever-the-fuck-the-patrons-pleased. Finally I found someone on the verge of nodding out. Before the drugs took them under, I had a seat right next to the guy. Without a word, I flashed them the symbol I’d removed from the baggie and what do ya know, they pulled out their own to match before consciousness was lost. Right. On to the next one. I’d climb each rung of the ladder until I hit top, or in the least leveled up a few times. It was a game that walked the line between going unnoticed and drawing attention, the latter of which would be necessary, but it still had to be the right kind. Junkies two, three and four were clueless about what I was after. When user number five finally gave me more than a “hi how’re ya” with her bag of snortables, it wasn’t the answer I’d sought, instead she’d dead-ended all my efforts, letting me in on the fact I wasn’t going to find anything with this mark inside the Mask. I hit the bar, perching on an end stool to saturate my disappointment in something overly expensive while I mulled over square one.- Assail: After a long night of pulling details from a barely coherent drug addict, I had a description. No name, no vehicle, not even a direction of flight. The user was so far gone, his brain must have been mush. For those kinds of clients, only the best product would do. Which was why he bought from me, clearly. For a moment I had entertained the idea that maybe he was bait, meant to lure out my dealers while the Brotherhood laid in waiting. But it took barely five minutes in the human’s apartment to know that he was barely surviving, and he lacked sufficient focus to do anything besides get from one hit to the next. The twins and I made our way to the Iron Mask the following night. I wasn’t due to see Evayhne again but they needed to feed, so a trip was necessary. I would stay out of the VIP section this eve, so as not to distract my informant from her duties. Perhaps I’d admire from afar, watch how she handles her clients and acts the host. While mine cousins made their way into the crowd, I hung back, arms crossed over my chest while I waited near the bar. The humans were rowdy as always, bodies and scents mixing as they dabbled unknowingly in the supernatural. My eyes danced across the crowd, thankful the headache that plagued me the eve prior had faded after a hot meal and another round of sleeping like the dead. This felt oddly like the days leading up to my transition many, /many/ years ago. But I knew it was just my body running on fumes, on coke instead of blood. Soon I’d remedy that. For now, I had a killer and some cash to find. I sensed something, my eyes flicking back, something had caught my attention. It was Evale. His gaze had sought mine across the busy club, and hadn’t failed. We were connected in that way, mine cousins and myself. It came from spending so much time together over so many years. We were closer than cousins, closer than brothers. Kin of a different kind. Evale didn’t say anything--not that I could have heard him over the pounding bass, even with vampire senses--just nodded towards the other end of the bar I was leaning against. I turned and looked… and Scribe be. A male slouched at the other end, dark hair, bright eyes, stubbled jaw, and the tell tale jacket with the scuffed elbow. Just how the human described it. He hadn’t remembered much, but he had glanced back and watched the males face off as he ran for his pathetic life. I moved instantly, mentally chastising myself for not thinking that the wannabe-Brother may come here looking for more addicts, more dealers. Little did he know he was barking up the wrong druglord. The dealer had been mine, not Rehv’s. I claimed the stool two down from him, a drunk human male hugging his bottle of beer in between us. As his head fell lower and lower, I sat back, eyeing up the vampire. I’d seen that look before. It was equal parts pain, desperation, and acceptance. “Need a pick-me-up, son?” I tossed a bag his way, one with my signature emblem on it. This was going to be fun. Jagger -I wasn’t sure which offense came first, the unpleasant ring of the word “son” scorching my eardrums as the sound carried across the slick bar, or the insult of the bag of drugs that was flicked my way.  The implication was derogatory at best. The injuries were eased when I caught sight of what had been sent my way, complete with the mark I’d been seeking.  I noted the drunk side-eyeing between us in my periphery before quickly covering the packet that matched the lot back home. I didn’t act in the immediate. First, I scoped out the delivery boy.  He was a polished, sharp male but with somewhat vacant eyes, which almost made him feel kindred. Almost. His pupils were well dilated which could be a result of the sooty light of the club, or maybe he was sampling what was on offer. Didn’t care. Whoever he was he was a bridge, or at least a few squares of the hopscotch closer to the man in charge. This was a twist I didn’t see coming. Right place. Wrong place. Right place. Dosed face. Smug face. Drunk face. Night had the makings of Dr. Seuss all over it. Time to turn the page to the next part of the book. My gut churned, unsure of how any of this was going to go. Clearly there’d been eyes on me, but whose? I did a quick scan, but blurs of grey and black with hints of red lips and fleshtones streaking the moving canvas turned up no audience I could detect. This transaction was not for crowd consumption so without a word, I stood, kicking up my chin just barely at the one in the know. Destination was a fairly unpopulated corner of the place between two thick columns, clearly meant for discretion but not completely out of the fray. The elbow room could only be described as cozy and that made my collar feel more constricting.  I hadn’t bothered to check to make sure I’d been followed, pretty sure the contraband in my pocket would ensure the RSVP to the impromptu party. Rotating to face my pursuer, a flat grin my most generous offer along with the packet that I’d snatched off the bar in my open palm.- Forget something? Assail I knew it was ballsy to toss around my product in the Reverend’s home, but as long as the young vampire didn’t go running to Trez and the female bouncer who ran things, I doubted anyone would notice. The real deals went down in the VIP section, where the rich and the King’s warriors spent their time. This side of the club was mostly humans. Desperate, sweaty pigs that they were. The male stood, giving me a quick nod before wandering into the crowd. And I was meant to follow. He must have no idea how things worked in my world. I glanced over, catching Evale’s eye once more. His head tipped and I knew he and Ehric would flank me, abandoning their companions until my safety was ensured. They’d be invisible in the crowd, mere shadows amongst the bodies that writhed to the heavy bass pounding inside the club. Soon my target and I were hidden among the vertical beams that supported the roof of the Iron Mask. I met his gaze with amusement, his eyes dark, and so very angry. His face was tightly held sheet over something much bloodier. His veil was thin… fraying at the edges. Wouldn’t take much to unravel the whole thing. My lips twitched in amusement. I did love a slow destruction. Patience was a virtue, and I had centuries ahead of me still. I lifted a hand and drew the design on the packet with my fingertip, tapping it gently when I was done. I didn’t take the baggie back. “Let me see... Lonely male, sulking at the human bar? Check. Shady corner of the club for a little privacy? Check. Bag of happy drugs? Check. Am I forgetting something? I think not.” Jagger -Eau du Cavalier was coming off this city slicker in thick wafts. By some sleight of hand he both blended in and stood out in the surroundings, but his bold assumptions were off by more than a little. I was momentarily tempted to pin the bag he’d failed to retrieve with a fingertip to his chest, but my war was not with him and I was not looking to incite confrontation. My energy was reserved for the enemy of the race alone, and there was no need for the unessential. Despite the arrogance, the potential to keep the transaction quick and clean seemed to reside between myself and this male, he didn’t seem the type to rough up the baby-soft knuckles. Definitely upper echelon, maybe even glymera and not any kind of scrapper. The glaze of vacancy in his eyes could have been hiding something, however. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes in a manner that felt shrewd.- If I wanted this, I wouldn’t have needed to make the trip. So how about I help you off the ASS-YOU-ME train and onto my track? -Reaching in my back pocket to pull out the emblem I’d so carefully removed from my unintended bounty-slash-burden, attempting a more direct approach rather than the surface banter. Games weren’t on the agenda.- I need to connect with the top dog. Seeing as you have some of his product at the ready, you’re my new escort, ya dig? Trust, he’ll want to talk to me.  Maybe you’ll even pass go and collect two-hundred dollars before we’re all done. -My lack of social experience put me at a disadvantage. I was hawk-like in my observations, but reading people did not come natural to me. My shining example of a father had left me with nothing but the uncouth to abide by and my resistance to his tendencies were my greatest strength. My mother’s kindness and unfailingly beautiful heart, alternatively, had only given me the other end of the spectrum. I was lost somewhere in the in between. Neither here, nor there. A lost cause. A young, but weary soul. My poker face was the only thing I had going for me, as to not let on to this male that I was completely out of my element.- Assail This was just too precious. The male was playing the same game he accused me of. He assumed I was just a dealer. He assumed I’d take orders from him. He assumed he could just swagger his way into the den of a sleeping bear, bang some pots and pans, and the beast would cower in fear. Now I smiled, all teeth. It wasn’t a friendly gesture. “You want to meet the bossman? I think I can make that happen.” I pulled out my phone and called Evale. He accepted the call without speaking. The only indication he had answered was the sound of the same club music echoing on a short delay in my ear. I spoke to the silence, not waiting for a reply. There wouldn’t be one with Evale. “I need to see the boss. Is he available this eve? Aye… thank you. We’ll be there shortly.” I hung up and pushed my phone into my breast pocket. Then I slid my hand into the ballsy male’s, palming the bag of drugs. I lifted it and crooked my finger. Turning without a word, I headed towards the side door, forcing him to follow me as he had done earlier. Funny how the tables turned. Pushing outside, the twins were waiting by the Tahoe already. Their meals had been postponed indefinitely, but I would make sure they fed before the sun rose next. Mine cousins each opened one of the back doors. I almost giggled like a young. Oh yes, this male was about to meet the boss. Up close and very personal. I gave Ehric a look. He knew where to take us. Jagger -That smile rivaled that of a shark and it was somewhat emasculating that it sent a chill up my spine, one I’d never admit. My eyes narrowed but more in a manner of measuring what Mack the Knife was holding behind that gate of pearly whites. There was zero time for speculation when he took back the wares he had so readily offered me. Instinct was punching at my ribs like a couple of fists going at a speed bag when he went all come hither with his finger. My guts clearly wanted to send the message: You’ve been played, fucker. I was damn confident the whole offer had been a ruse. Or had it? Neither of were showing our cards, and I was only used to having me, myself and I as an opponent at any table that wasn’t a city street. Composure was my best bet even as my feet wanted to play cement block with the floor, so I forced myself to follow. The night air temporarily rolled out the welcome mat with its sobering edge of cool, but it didn’t last, the effect waning when I got an eyeful of SUV. I told myself it would work out despite the organized crime vibe that was rolling so hard. I told myself I wasn’t the over-sexualized female in the horror flick walking into the decrepit barn full of macabre death traps. I told myself it was not my time and that I wasn’t going out like this. But as I stepped up into the awaiting ride, certainty was off the menu and a watery grave was the Blue Plate Special.- Assail Not a word was spoken as we traveled. I held back the victorious smirk that threatened to push my cheeks up, mine cousins playing their roles perfectly as we headed down to the docks. There was a corner in plain view I used for some of my dealings. It appeared inconspicuous upon arrival, tame, even. But the few lights dotting the area played tricks on the eyes, and it wasn’t until you were mere meters from the spot that you realized just how dark and shadowed it was. Even vampires were caught unaware. It was a short jaunt from the club to my waterfront view, and as we pulled up, I could feel the jitters working through my companion. He played it perfectly calm, which impressed me more than I cared to admit. Normally by now my guests would be shaky, babbling messes. I had heard every form of begging, been offered any and everything as payment, even kin had been presented for barter. As Ehric and Evale climbed out and took post next to our doors, I peered over at my passanger. “What name am I presenting you as? I do prefer to keep things formal. We are gentlemales, after all.” I pressed my jacket into place as my question lingered in the air, the vial of blow burning hot against my chest. I craved a hit. But it would have to wait. Jagger -Suspicions were plugged into an amp when we pulled up to meet the “boss” after an uncomfortably quiet albeit short ride. Comfort zone was a no show allowing heat to lick under my arms. The perspiration didn’t reach my brows which was only a slight victory, because my pulse would not be lost on my escorts.  It was also unpalatable irony that I’d ended up in the exact scenario I’d been aiming to avoid. I internally floated the question on whether the boss was named Titan, considering there was nothing but water for an office at our destination. My composure broke when I snorted a laugh at the term “gentlemales” despite the fine threads that clothed the guy next to me. Sure, I’d encountered males of worth, but overall the scales had been tipped in a direction towards the dirt, the grit and the greed of the male population. Image did not make the man. Dear old dad had stripped all illusion of such from as soon as I could comprehend and reinforced the notion at every damned opportunity.  I’d be more likely to be convinced that unicorns existed and were responsible for shitting rainbows all over the sky while playing in the rain clouds. I momentarily considered my naivety walking into this situation. I was unarmed, outmanned and completely green when it came to this kind of dealing. Still, there was an edge of excitement that buzzed under the surface, maybe the detour from monotony would give me a new lease on life. Nah.- Jagger.  -I left out anything else. The name that branded me. The one I wished to escape, the one I could not. There was no use in that disclosure, especially if I was about to swallow lead.- Assail Jagger. Just, Jagger. No surname. No father’s heritage to dig into. Nothing I could use. I scowled, unhappy with his response. Offended at his snort. Was his accent of preference that of a cock-grabbing, long-legged swaggering, baggy low-belted human who thought himself some sort of gangster? They had no idea what a real mobsters did. Humans were feeble imitators. And this male… Did vampire males no longer announce their family when they introduced themselves? Were manners so hard to come by now? I knew I was a bit old fashioned, but even I had the self-respect to provide my full name when someone asked it. Assail, son of Assail. My name carried quite a legacy, I was as Old Country, as old world, as old money as they came in the vampire world. Mine blood could compete with the Blind King’s when it came to purity. He was the only pureblood left. I guessed mine at about 98% unblended. Enough games. I was itching for a hit, my tolerance for bullshitting was low, and I had two males waiting outside the car that I had promised a feed-and-fuck session at Iron Mask this eve. My arm shot out, grabbing the male by the back of the neck. I slammed his head into the window, hard enough to hear it crack. Or perhaps that was his hard skull. I kept my grip tight, fingers digging into the skin of his neck. “Formalities are for the patient. Of which I am not at the moment. You, Jagger, son-of-whomever, owe me a dealer. And his earnings. The drugs I can replace, but the cash is something I cannot import into Caldwell.” Jagger -It was enlightening how tastes of death could in turn make you feel alive. Clearly my introduction had sat on this male’s last nerve. The dig of his fingertips into my neck threatened the integrity of my spine, and when my face met unyielding glass, the split of my skin above my eye intensified as the knock to the skull radiated a throbbing ache so powerful it numbed my lips. The blood gushed out, blurring my vision in one eye, casting a red filter over my sight. I licked across my bottom lip, tasting my mortality before a genuine smile presented and I met his gaze. Maybe this wouldn’t be a bad way to go out after all. Of course, Mr. Must-Be-The-Boss wouldn’t allow me the departure without his due.- Son of Rhuin if you need more reason to detest me. And might I ask your lineage since it is such an important talking point to you? -I purposely ignored acknowledgement of what I owed him. I wasn’t done with his ire; I wanted to explore it, sick, twisted and masochistic as that made me. Casting my gaze downward in acknowledgement of dear old dad. He’d been the one to invite this punishment. His actions were the ones I could never live down. His legacy was my death wish.- Assail Son of… Rhuin. I couldnae remember if I knew that name or if I’d just heard so many in my long lifetime that they all sounded familiar the now. And the way he spat out his father’s lineage had me wondering what sort of dissonance had driven it’s sharp wedge in between them. The only thing worse than politics and religion was family. Aye, Jagger, son of Rhuin hung his head and I could see now that he didn’t just lack the proper manners in announcing himself. He chose specifically /not/ to tie his name to his father’s. That was quite interesting indeed. My grip on his nape tightened once again, forcing his head to lift in my direction so I could pierce those daddy-didn’t-love-me eyes with my own dark stare. “I shall gladly do you the honor, Jagger, son of Rhuin. I am Assail, son of Assail. And in case your now-bruised head hasn’t figured it out yet, I /am/ the boss. Furthermore, in case those ears of yours aren’t working quite right either the now, I said: You owe me a dealer and his earnings. You took one of mine down the other night and made off with his cash. Now the question is, how do we fix this situation? I’m thinking perhaps if you are desperate enough for money to kill a dealer, then mayhaps you could not only pay back what you stole, but earn a little extra for yourself by playing my little errand boy.” Jagger -Errand boy. The fuck? I’d sooner meet my end. That little delivery of expectation left my mind ringing as much as the knock to my face. I let the fuzzy thoughts come back into focus before attempting my response, and now this male was going to listen to me. It didn’t matter if he had his hand wrapped precariously around my neck. If it was due to be snapped, so be it, still wouldn’t get him what he wanted out of me. There was the briefest moment of envy that flashed between heartbeats when the male so proudly stated his predecessor and namesake. Clearly he was not lineage-challenged like myself. I would use this to buff and shine his ego a bit. There was but one angle for me to take.- Assail, son of Assail. My mistake in taking you for anything other than the man in charge. My ignorance precedes me. Apologies. I was not so well graced as you were with your sire. -My flat tone was not meant in a manner of disrespect but to tamp down on the seething that that happened when I saw his aim from a fuller vantage.- Good? Good. Now, hear this. I will not be in bed in with the enemy, though they seem to be your current bedmates of choice figuratively speaking, natch. Brotherhood know about this? -I let the question hang for a moment, this was my only leverage in the negotiation, and my sticking point.- Guessing not. -Raising a hand before any protests or defenses can be raised.- It’s not my intent to make any trouble for you with the Brotherhood. Not my business.  I’ll return what I pulled off that lesser along with whatever sum of cash you demand. Errand boy is on you. Fair, no? Assail This male had balls the size of my Tahoe, and it displeased me that even with my long fingers wrapped around his neck, he still saw fit to think he could run this negotiation. As if I was about to negotiate. My other hand grabbed the door handle, popping it open. “Remove him from my vehicle,” I spoke softly to Ehric. Jagger’s door immediately opened, Evale grabbing him by his jacket and pulling his body outside. A second later I was out my side, Ehric and myself rounding the back as Evale held my guest against the vehicle. Once we got close Ehric grabbed him as well. There was no chance of escape. I sneered, fangs out, leaning in close enough to the male that each pore on his nose was visible to mine eyes. The flecks of color in his eyes were burned into my memory as I spoke. “If you think to threaten me with the Brotherhood, you should know… I operate outside their rules. I bend to no one. I serve mine own needs, and no one else’s, not even the Blind King himself. That being said, if you wish to hang a threat of exposure over my head, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to simply remove your tongue. No words, no tattling.” I drew my finger across the wrist of his arm as Ehric held him in place. “Fingers might have to go as well, can’t have any notes left in the First Advisor to the King’s mailbox.” I let those ideas sink in for a moment, stepping back and pulling out a cigar. I needed something to calm me, something to focus my senses on since I couldn’t take a hit at the moment. A spark, a flame in the dark of the night, and I was in business, puffing a few times as thoughts moved about inside mine head. Finally I turned and focused on the male again. “Ten thousand. That is what you owe me. And one favor, one you vow to complete the now, but shall be called due at a later date.” I nodded at Evale, who retrieved the male’s cell phone from his pocket. Mine cousin called my cell phone with it, the sliver in mine pocket vibrating twice before he ended the call. “Now I have your number, Jagger, son of Rhuin,” I pulled the cigar from my mouth and pointed at him with it. “Ten thousand. One favor. You’ll only have one errand to run in the end.” I leaned in close, our noses bumping together as I mocked his earlier sentiment. “Fair?” Jagger -Reflexes had my hand going to my neck at the moment I was pinned like the tail on the donkey to the body of the SUV. This invited my first rise of panic, not for the manhandling but instead for the lack of my mother’s cross, enhanced by the accompanying throb at my throat left behind by the insistent rush of blood back to the scene of the former grip of my captor. I somehow managed not to lose my shit over my most sentimental possession, reigning it in as  focus shifted to the male in front of me, his patience seemingly dusted. There was no missing the slick line of his bared fangs or the hit of his breath on my face. He no doubt hadn’t missed my thick swallow within the intimate range he chose. I otherwise didn’t flinch. Not at the idea of losing my tongue. Not when he traced an invisible guide on my wrist to threaten its severing. The chill that climbed my spine was involuntary and somehow triggered by the proximity of a warm body. Strange. I met his bravado with an upturn of my lips, then observed with a keen eye as he stepped back, noting a small tremble in his hand as he raised a cigar to his, plumes of smoke circling his head as if choreographed with their perfect rings. Demands were laid out in a tone that held no give, edged with a deadly undercurrent. Helpless to stop the retrieval of my phone and the silent orders carried about by the mute Ehric and Evale, I let them shake me down without protest, again unflinching when met with Assail’s mocking final word and kiss of our noses that could only be classified as posturing. I shrugged in the hold of the henchmen as much as my restricted position allowed.- As I indicated before rage affected your hearing, I’ve no interest in reporting you to the Brotherhood. You will have your favor and the sum, Assail son of Assail. -There was no point in making counter demands. As soon as I was free from his bulldogs’ sweaty grips, I’d be master of my own ceremonies again. I’d every intention of carrying out the favor and paying my penance, so long as the male did not put me in league with the enemy. I could not allow that, but my new “friend” needn’t know it.- Assail I sensed his agreement to my terms wasn’t the victory he sought this eve, and although it didn’t bring me as much pleasure as I’d hoped, it did put a win in my column. I’d get my cash back, and a favor of my choosing some time in the future. Which would take careful choosing, as this male, this… Jagger, son of Rhuin, I sensed was something other than the usual young males I ran into in my line of business. They were usually half-cocked with their swagger hanging out. Jagger, while stubborn and ballsy, wasnae as foolish as the typical bullheaded male. I could tell he was perceptive, and while he had made a mistake this eve in assuming I was the errand boy, he got wise to what was really going on the instant we stepped out of the Iron Mask. A male like him could mayhaps be useful one day. Look at you, Assail. Recruiting like the Brotherhood. I had a worthy informant, the lovely Evayhne. And now I was scouting a male whose origins I must needs research further. Rhuin. I would find his lineage. I glanced at the twins, nodding once as I puffed on my cigar. “Let him go the now.”  They did so immediately, but stood close by in case Jagger felt the need to retaliate now that his arms and legs were of his own use again. “I will be in touch, Jagger. Give you instructions on where to bring the cash. I assume a fortnight will be enough time. If it’s not, you can bring me what you have and we’ll discuss how to handle the balance.” With that, I turned away, stepping down towards the docks, under the cloak of night away from the low lights of the Tahoe’s interior. The twins would ensure Jagger’s departure. I had other things to ponder the now. Jagger -Although the night had ended up with a few rough edges and a small sacrifice of blood, the outcome wasn’t so far off the mark of what I’d hoped, save for one thing. There was no weight on my shoulders for the tithe Assail had demanded for my inadvertent meddling in his business. He would eventually be pleased to find how true I intended to be with my word. But the night had not been without its loss. My heart sunk like an anchor from my chest to the floor of my guts at the notice of the loss of my most priceless possession.  For surely as it was missing from around my neck, the gravity of my mother’s absent cross bore down like an elephant having a sit in on my pectorals. It was hard to draw air. With my symbolic and physical tie to her gone, the confirmation had been penned in permanent ink; my time was coming.  There was nothing left for Jagger son of Rhuin in this life. With that revelation in mind and no further word, I dematerialized into the night.-    #CallMeMaybe

[cutegirlmayra]

I wanna say I'm such a huge fan of your stories and prompts! They give me life

I shall endeavor to do my best! :Db

Prompt:

Sonic was simply lounging on a rooftop, yawning.

He lifted a hand up and wiggled a pinkie finger into his ear, scratching within it, before blinking his eyes open and looked up.

“..Huh?” For some reason, it was too long of a nap for him…

He looked to the side.

Usually… Eggman would come along, Amy would find and jump him, or something or someone would come along and whisk him off to an adventure.

If he didn’t fall headfirst into one, that is.

He slowly got up, before jumping rapidly into a ball and letting his ball roll down the roof, hit the gutter, and roll down that until shoving his ball-form deeper into it as the pipe morphed to his shape and spat him out like a spit-wad.

He unrolled and stretched as his feet formed the typical ‘8′ formation, and began smacking his lips to snap out of the sleepy-spell.

A submarine’s googles popped out a nearby lake, watching the blue blur speed past, as the eyes blinked before Vector took his head out of the elongated set of binoculars.

“He’s awake! Dang it! I was sure he’d sleep all day!”

“But he’s Sonic! How else could be get rid of all that energy?” Charmy was behind him, since they were all squished in the submarine. He gestured a hand up as Espio looked claustrophobic.

“Could anyone relate to me the simple idea of why we choose to spy on him through a submarine?” He tried to sound calm, but you could tell he was slightly annoyed.

Vector and Charmy looked to him, as if thinking about that before sweat dropping…

“It was on rental!” Vector hollered in defense.

“A free-trail period!” Charmy happily pointed a finger up, as if giving another good reason.

“How could we resist?” Vector, matter-of-factly, shrugged as much as he could in the small space before piloting the course off into the distance.

Sonic continued to ran before a fruit fell on his face.

“Wah!” he slid a little but still fell flat on his face, slowly putting one hand in front of the other to get his head elevated off the dirt.

He shook his head and picked the fruit up, looking confused, and then around at the trees.

“..Strange. None of these are fruit trees.” he blinked, looking completely oblivious as Charmy hid behind the trunk of a large tree, shaking nervously as his lips formed a swiggly line as he sweat profusely.

It was a scary form of hide-and-distract!

Espio, turning invisible, had some other fruits too.

‘We need to keep him off this trail…’ he strategized in his mind before moving into a bush, causing it to russle.

“Huh?” Sonic narrowed his eyes at the sound, and quickly dashed over to it.

Holding the fruit, he put his hands on his hips and leaned down, trying to examine the strange bush.

It kept shaking…

He raised an eyebrow, seeing it didn’t seem like a threat, and lifted his foot to lightly tap to check for boobytraps.

When nothing happened, he parted the bush and looked around.

Nothing…

He shrugged, before eating the fruit and tossing it behind him.

Within the bush, you could hear a ‘Ow!’ as Sonic pivoted to the noise.

“What the..?”

“OOhh! Help me! Heelllp meee!”

Sonic heard a strange woman’s voice, and quickly took off to where it sounded.

“What’s wrong, miss…?” Sonic looked up at a very ugly,.. “-Alligator?”.

“Crocodile! Ehem.” Vector coughed, making his voice high again, and fanning a fan over himself to hide his poorly done makeup.

“My baby seems stuck in that awful tree!”

He pointed to a spray-painted green Charmy, who had a cardboard costume of a crocodile and shook his fake tail, putting a hand over his fake muzzle and shouting out, “Whhaa! Whhaa!!”

“Huh? How’d he get up there?”

“Crocodiles..uh… climb trees when they’re young… heh…heh.” Vector sweated, causing some makeup to get messy…

Sonic shrugged, and scaled the tree, grabbing Charmy and then rushing down, having Vector take him in one fell swoop.

“Ah! My baby! Don’t you ever stray from me AGAIN!” Vector turned and looked to Sonic, kissing his cheek as a sign of thank you as Sonic shivered from the experience and watched as the … mother walked off.

“Strange day…” he scratched the back of his head, before zipping off. “Strange that I haven’t seen any of my friends yet… where is everyone?”

Vector spat out and started wiping his mouth and pulling out his tongue to scrape it.

“Yuck! I can’t believe you did that! Hahah! You kissed Sonic~ You kissed Sonic!~ Hahah!” Charmy rolled back and forth on his curved spine and mocked Vector, as he glared and started shouting at him.

“I was in character! That’s more than YOU can say! Cry baby!”

The two started mini-fighting.

“Who are you calling a cry baby, big lips!”

“Both of you! Stop it!” Espio appeared and pulled the two apart, closing his eyes to keep relatively a calm demeanor, but was failing at it…

“If we don’t do something now, the whole plan will be ruined!”

“What ruined plan?”

The three jolted in their spots, before slowly looking up to a tree branch, freaking out as they realized Sonic was laying on a branch, one hand up to hold up his head and a leg up for style.

“I figured no woman could be that ugly and forward about it.” Sonic winked to Vector.

Vector was so embarrassed that it came out as rage, jumping up and shaking a fist at Sonic and shouting out random lines of insults and defenses, making Sonic close his eyes and tilt his head, grinning widly in delight at his reaction.

He then looked to Charmy and Espio. “What’s going on? Someone hire you to keep me put?”

“Uh.. T-that’s classified.” Espio quickly put two fingers up like a ninja in front of his face, ducking his head and closing his eyes, as if trying to mask his emotions… but he twitched his eyebrow and still sweat in panic…

“W-we’ll never talk!” Charmy flew up and flailed defiantly, as Sonic smiled as any friend would and shrugged.

“Oh well. But I warn you. I’m not easily distracted~” as if declaring a dare, he smirked and took off.

The three shot up and worriedly, in a frenzy, went after him.

After a billion failed attempts that Sonic enjoyed immensely of keeping him distracted or at least keeping up with him, the three were exhausted by the time Sonic had finally stopped for them.

“Give up yet?” he folded his arms, looming over their exhausted, flattened, and overlapping dog-pile bodies with a look of triumphant on his face.

“Alright. We give.” Vector admitted, as Charmy continued, hanging off Espio’s body, who was laying with his back on top of Vector, on his belly.

“Amy hired us… she’s in the east Green Meadow Zone…” Charmy panted, then whined out as he dipped his head.

“W-…We didn’t necessarily fail..” Espio tried to comfort his team. “After all, he is late now.”

“Ah!” Vector thrust himself up, causing the two to roll off of him. “That’s right! We did succeed! Haha! We did it! He’s late!” Vector outstretched his arms up in belated victory.

“..Huh? Late?” Sonic was now highly interested, “What’s this all about? Spill already!” He looked a little annoyed he was so out of the loop. (pun intended)

“Right this way~” Vector zipped up and marched happily with his hand gesturing to the area.

The two also followed, but drooped their shoulders forward and sighed, wearily. Charmy’s little wings still flapped to keep him hovering up and down in the air, poor thing..~

Finally, as they entered the meadow, a huge table and decorations were set up, but no one was there.

Sonic spread out himself and looked amazed, “What..?”

“SURPRISE!” Many friends popped out and had typical party items before the music was formed through technologically forming from a square box.

It boomed as everyone gathered around Sonic.

“H-hey… Is this a party?”

He nervously looked around, a little startled.

Vector, Espio, and Charmy sneaked away as Amy handed them their due rewards and the three danced and sprayed the money around, before quickly ducking down and gathering it up as soon as possible. Taking wind into consideration…

Amy approached Sonic as the crowd stepped away to let her through, “I threw this party to celebrate the first time I met you, Sonic! I hired Team Chaotix and asked all your friends to come! Because it was by meeting you I was able to meet them! And with one friendship made…” she took his hand and pulled him into the center of the crowd. “Many more are formed!” she threw her arms up, as the crowd cheered for Sonic, and lifted him up in a type of mosh-pit, and threw him up and down.

He felt uncomfortable, before seeing her sweet smile and returning it.

He pumped his fists up, “Then let’s party! Friends and all!”

“Yeeeahhh!!”

They danced around each other before Amy admitted she threw in a slow song, and although it took some friendly shoving…

Sonic danced with Vector. (JK!) He totally had a slow dance with Amy~ To thank her, obviously, haha! Why else would he? right? G-gotta go! (sonic channel tag tease reference, lol!)

(LOL, I can’t get over what Vector did either XD Such a method actor!)

[inmyownmhis]

Call Me Maybe (with @BulletPunchCut)

Jagger:

-The air had a crisp quality to it, the kind that made you want to fill your lungs because the oxygen content was notable. It made me feel alive.

Oh, irony, you satirical bitch.

My state of body was robust while I sought out my destination for the night:  The Iron Mask.

My reconnaissance over the course of several evenings had pinpointed the goth hang as a likely locale for the source, or at least close to it. I’d tailed one of the enemy with gritted teeth, his scent so strong it singed my nostrils, guy was the Pig Pen of lessers and gave the pungent aroma of bleu cheese a new lease on pleasant. His carelessness was my boon. He’d had a wad in his pocket that could only be bills when he’d disappeared around the backside. When he’d strolled back a short twenty ticks of the minute hand later, the pocket had greatly atrophied.

I’d observed the routine for long enough to confirm some sort of connection. My will power was tested beyond normal limits as I watched the enemy disappear. I need not draw any attention by becoming some vigilante for this new enterprising group of lessers.

After several toe taps of impatience and two nights, I’d decided it was time to disappear inside the heart of the beast, and I was seeing the place with new eyes. It wasn’t just a vampire friendly club pumping industrial through the speakers, it was a well veiled front for something bigger, something I wanted no part of.

Was it possible vampires were in bed with lessers?

My moves would have to be calculated. I slinked through the shadows, in and out of dark corners meant to give privacy for sex, drugs or the whatever-the-fuck-the-patrons-pleased. Finally I found someone on the verge of nodding out. Before the drugs took them under, I had a seat right next to the guy. Without a word, I flashed them the symbol I’d removed from the baggie and what do ya know, they pulled out their own to match before consciousness was lost.

Right. On to the next one.

I’d climb each rung of the ladder until I hit top, or in the least leveled up a few times. It was a game that walked the line between going unnoticed and drawing attention, the latter of which would be necessary, but it still had to be the right kind. Junkies two, three and four were clueless about what I was after. When user number five finally gave me more than a “hi how’re ya” with her bag of snortables, it wasn’t the answer I’d sought, instead she’d dead-ended all my efforts, letting me in on the fact I wasn’t going to find anything with this mark inside the Mask. I hit the bar, perching on an end stool to saturate my disappointment in something overly expensive while I mulled over square one.-

Assail:

After a long night of pulling details from a barely coherent drug addict, I had a description. No name, no vehicle, not even a direction of flight. The user was so far gone, his brain must have been mush. For those kinds of clients, only the best product would do. Which was why he bought from me, clearly. For a moment I had entertained the idea that maybe he was bait, meant to lure out my dealers while the Brotherhood laid in waiting. But it took barely five minutes in the human’s apartment to know that he was barely surviving, and he lacked sufficient focus to do anything besides get from one hit to the next.

The twins and I made our way to the Iron Mask the following night. I wasn’t due to see Evayhne again but they needed to feed, so a trip was necessary. I would stay out of the VIP section this eve, so as not to distract my informant from her duties. Perhaps I’d admire from afar, watch how she handles her clients and acts the host. While mine cousins made their way into the crowd, I hung back, arms crossed over my chest while I waited near the bar. The humans were rowdy as always, bodies and scents mixing as they dabbled unknowingly in the supernatural. My eyes danced across the crowd, thankful the headache that plagued me the eve prior had faded after a hot meal and another round of sleeping like the dead. This felt oddly like the days leading up to my transition many, /many/ years ago. But I knew it was just my body running on fumes, on coke instead of blood. Soon I’d remedy that. For now, I had a killer and some cash to find.

I sensed something, my eyes flicking back, something had caught my attention. It was Evale. His gaze had sought mine across the busy club, and hadn’t failed. We were connected in that way, mine cousins and myself. It came from spending so much time together over so many years. We were closer than cousins, closer than brothers. Kin of a different kind. Evale didn’t say anything--not that I could have heard him over the pounding bass, even with vampire senses--just nodded towards the other end of the bar I was leaning against. I turned and looked… and Scribe be. A male slouched at the other end, dark hair, bright eyes, stubbled jaw, and the tell tale jacket with the scuffed elbow. Just how the human described it. He hadn’t remembered much, but he had glanced back and watched the males face off as he ran for his pathetic life.

I moved instantly, mentally chastising myself for not thinking that the wannabe-Brother may come here looking for more addicts, more dealers. Little did he know he was barking up the wrong druglord. The dealer had been mine, not Rehv’s. I claimed the stool two down from him, a drunk human male hugging his bottle of beer in between us. As his head fell lower and lower, I sat back, eyeing up the vampire. I’d seen that look before. It was equal parts pain, desperation, and acceptance.

“Need a pick-me-up, son?” I tossed a bag his way, one with my signature emblem on it. This was going to be fun.

Jagger

-I wasn’t sure which offense came first, the unpleasant ring of the word “son” scorching my eardrums as the sound carried across the slick bar, or the insult of the bag of drugs that was flicked my way.  The implication was derogatory at best.

The injuries were eased when I caught sight of what had been sent my way, complete with the mark I’d been seeking.  I noted the drunk side-eyeing between us in my periphery before quickly covering the packet that matched the lot back home. I didn’t act in the immediate. First, I scoped out the delivery boy.  He was a polished, sharp male but with somewhat vacant eyes, which almost made him feel kindred. Almost. His pupils were well dilated which could be a result of the sooty light of the club, or maybe he was sampling what was on offer. Didn’t care. Whoever he was he was a bridge, or at least a few squares of the hopscotch closer to the man in charge.

This was a twist I didn’t see coming.

Right place. Wrong place. Right place.

Dosed face. Smug face. Drunk face.

Night had the makings of Dr. Seuss all over it. Time to turn the page to the next part of the book.

My gut churned, unsure of how any of this was going to go. Clearly there’d been eyes on me, but whose? I did a quick scan, but blurs of grey and black with hints of red lips and fleshtones streaking the moving canvas turned up no audience I could detect. This transaction was not for crowd consumption so without a word, I stood, kicking up my chin just barely at the one in the know.

Destination was a fairly unpopulated corner of the place between two thick columns, clearly meant for discretion but not completely out of the fray. The elbow room could only be described as cozy and that made my collar feel more constricting.  I hadn’t bothered to check to make sure I’d been followed, pretty sure the contraband in my pocket would ensure the RSVP to the impromptu party.

Rotating to face my pursuer, a flat grin my most generous offer along with the packet that I’d snatched off the bar in my open palm.- Forget something?

Assail

I knew it was ballsy to toss around my product in the Reverend’s home, but as long as the young vampire didn’t go running to Trez and the female bouncer who ran things, I doubted anyone would notice. The real deals went down in the VIP section, where the rich and the King’s warriors spent their time. This side of the club was mostly humans. Desperate, sweaty pigs that they were. The male stood, giving me a quick nod before wandering into the crowd. And I was meant to follow.

He must have no idea how things worked in my world. I glanced over, catching Evale’s eye once more. His head tipped and I knew he and Ehric would flank me, abandoning their companions until my safety was ensured. They’d be invisible in the crowd, mere shadows amongst the bodies that writhed to the heavy bass pounding inside the club.

Soon my target and I were hidden among the vertical beams that supported the roof of the Iron Mask. I met his gaze with amusement, his eyes dark, and so very angry. His face was tightly held sheet over something much bloodier. His veil was thin… fraying at the edges. Wouldn’t take much to unravel the whole thing. My lips twitched in amusement. I did love a slow destruction. Patience was a virtue, and I had centuries ahead of me still. I lifted a hand and drew the design on the packet with my fingertip, tapping it gently when I was done. I didn’t take the baggie back.

“Let me see... Lonely male, sulking at the human bar? Check. Shady corner of the club for a little privacy? Check. Bag of happy drugs? Check. Am I forgetting something? I think not.”

Jagger

-Eau du Cavalier was coming off this city slicker in thick wafts. By some sleight of hand he both blended in and stood out in the surroundings, but his bold assumptions were off by more than a little.

I was momentarily tempted to pin the bag he’d failed to retrieve with a fingertip to his chest, but my war was not with him and I was not looking to incite confrontation. My energy was reserved for the enemy of the race alone, and there was no need for the unessential. Despite the arrogance, the potential to keep the transaction quick and clean seemed to reside between myself and this male, he didn’t seem the type to rough up the baby-soft knuckles. Definitely upper echelon, maybe even glymera and not any kind of scrapper. The glaze of vacancy in his eyes could have been hiding something, however. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes in a manner that felt shrewd.-

If I wanted this, I wouldn’t have needed to make the trip. So how about I help you off the ASS-YOU-ME train and onto my track?

-Reaching in my back pocket to pull out the emblem I’d so carefully removed from my unintended bounty-slash-burden, attempting a more direct approach rather than the surface banter. Games weren’t on the agenda.-

I need to connect with the top dog. Seeing as you have some of his product at the ready, you’re my new escort, ya dig? Trust, he’ll want to talk to me.  Maybe you’ll even pass go and collect two-hundred dollars before we’re all done.

-My lack of social experience put me at a disadvantage. I was hawk-like in my observations, but reading people did not come natural to me. My shining example of a father had left me with nothing but the uncouth to abide by and my resistance to his tendencies were my greatest strength. My mother’s kindness and unfailingly beautiful heart, alternatively, had only given me the other end of the spectrum. I was lost somewhere in the in between. Neither here, nor there. A lost cause. A young, but weary soul. My poker face was the only thing I had going for me, as to not let on to this male that I was completely out of my element.-

Assail

This was just too precious. The male was playing the same game he accused me of. He assumed I was just a dealer. He assumed I’d take orders from him. He assumed he could just swagger his way into the den of a sleeping bear, bang some pots and pans, and the beast would cower in fear. Now I smiled, all teeth. It wasn’t a friendly gesture.

“You want to meet the bossman? I think I can make that happen.”

I pulled out my phone and called Evale. He accepted the call without speaking. The only indication he had answered was the sound of the same club music echoing on a short delay in my ear. I spoke to the silence, not waiting for a reply. There wouldn’t be one with Evale.

“I need to see the boss. Is he available this eve? Aye… thank you. We’ll be there shortly.”

I hung up and pushed my phone into my breast pocket. Then I slid my hand into the ballsy male’s, palming the bag of drugs. I lifted it and crooked my finger. Turning without a word, I headed towards the side door, forcing him to follow me as he had done earlier. Funny how the tables turned. Pushing outside, the twins were waiting by the Tahoe already. Their meals had been postponed indefinitely, but I would make sure they fed before the sun rose next. Mine cousins each opened one of the back doors. I almost giggled like a young. Oh yes, this male was about to meet the boss. Up close and very personal. I gave Ehric a look. He knew where to take us.

Jagger

-That smile rivaled that of a shark and it was somewhat emasculating that it sent a chill up my spine, one I’d never admit. My eyes narrowed but more in a manner of measuring what Mack the Knife was holding behind that gate of pearly whites. There was zero time for speculation when he took back the wares he had so readily offered me. Instinct was punching at my ribs like a couple of fists going at a speed bag when he went all come hither with his finger. My guts clearly wanted to send the message: You’ve been played, fucker. I was damn confident the whole offer had been a ruse. Or had it? Neither of us were showing our cards, and I was only used to having me, myself and I as an opponent at any table that wasn’t a city street.

Composure was my best bet even as my feet wanted to play cement block with the floor, so I forced myself to follow.

The night air temporarily rolled out the welcome mat with its sobering edge of cool, but it didn’t last, the effect waning when I got an eyeful of SUV.

I told myself it would work out despite the organized crime vibe that was rolling so hard.

I told myself I wasn’t the over-sexualized female in the horror flick walking into the decrepit barn full of macabre death traps.

I told myself it was not my time and that I wasn’t going out like this.

But as I stepped up into the awaiting ride, certainty was off the menu and a watery grave was the Blue Plate Special.-

Assail

Not a word was spoken as we traveled. I held back the victorious smirk that threatened to push my cheeks up, mine cousins playing their roles perfectly as we headed down to the docks. There was a corner in plain view I used for some of my dealings. It appeared inconspicuous upon arrival, tame, even. But the few lights dotting the area played tricks on the eyes, and it wasn’t until you were mere meters from the spot that you realized just how dark and shadowed it was. Even vampires were caught unaware. It was a short jaunt from the club to my waterfront view, and as we pulled up, I could feel the jitters working through my companion. He played it perfectly calm, which impressed me more than I cared to admit. Normally by now my guests would be shaky, babbling messes. I had heard every form of begging, been offered any and everything as payment, even kin had been presented for barter.

As Ehric and Evale climbed out and took post next to our doors, I peered over at my passanger.

“What name am I presenting you as? I do prefer to keep things formal. We are gentlemales, after all.”

I pressed my jacket into place as my question lingered in the air, the vial of blow burning hot against my chest. I craved a hit. But it would have to wait.

Jagger

-Suspicions were plugged into an amp when we pulled up to meet the “boss” after an uncomfortably quiet albeit short ride. Comfort zone was a no show allowing heat to lick under my arms. The perspiration didn’t reach my brows which was only a slight victory, because my pulse would not be lost on my escorts.  It was also unpalatable irony that I’d ended up in the exact scenario I’d been aiming to avoid. I internally floated the question on whether the boss was named Titan, considering there was nothing but water for an office at our destination.

My composure broke when I snorted a laugh at the term “gentlemales” despite the fine threads that clothed the guy next to me. Sure, I’d encountered males of worth, but overall the scales had been tipped in a direction towards the dirt, the grit and the greed of the male population. Image did not make the man. Dear old dad had stripped all illusion of such from me as soon as I could comprehend and reinforced the notion at every damned opportunity.  I’d be more likely to be convinced that unicorns existed and were responsible for shitting rainbows all over the sky while playing in the rain clouds.

I momentarily considered my naivety walking into this situation. I was unarmed, out manned and completely green when it came to this kind of dealing. Still, there was an edge of excitement that buzzed under the surface, maybe the detour from monotony would give me a new lease on life.

Nah.-

Jagger.  -I left out anything else. The name that branded me. The one I wished to escape, the one I could not. There was no use in that disclosure, especially if I was about to swallow lead.-

Assail

Jagger. Just, Jagger. No surname. No father’s heritage to dig into. Nothing I could use. I scowled, unhappy with his response. Offended at his snort. Was his accent of preference that of a cock-grabbing, long-legged swaggering, baggy low-belted human who thought himself some sort of gangster? They had no idea what a real mobsters did. Humans were feeble imitators. And this male… Did vampire males no longer announce their family when they introduced themselves? Were manners so hard to come by now? I knew I was a bit old fashioned, but even I had the self-respect to provide my full name when someone asked it. Assail, son of Assail. My name carried quite a legacy, I was as Old Country, as old world, as old money as they came in the vampire world. Mine blood could compete with the Blind King’s when it came to purity. He was the only pureblood left. I guessed mine at about 98% unblended. Enough games. I was itching for a hit, my tolerance for bullshitting was low, and I had two males waiting outside the car that I had promised a feed-and-fuck session at Iron Mask this eve. My arm shot out, grabbing the male by the back of the neck. I slammed his head into the window, hard enough to hear it crack. Or perhaps that was his hard skull. I kept my grip tight, fingers digging into the skin of his neck.

“Formalities are for the patient. Of which I am not at the moment. You, Jagger, son-of-whomever, owe me a dealer. And his earnings. The drugs I can replace, but the cash is something I cannot import into Caldwell.”

Jagger

-It was enlightening how tastes of death could in turn make you feel alive. Clearly my introduction had sat on this male’s last nerve. The dig of his fingertips into my neck threatened the integrity of my spine, and when my face met unyielding glass, the split of my skin above my eye intensified as the knock to the skull radiated a throbbing ache so powerful it numbed my lips. The blood gushed out, blurring my vision in one eye, casting a red filter over my sight. I licked across my bottom lip, tasting my mortality before a genuine smile presented and I met his gaze.

Maybe this wouldn’t be a bad way to go out after all. Of course, Mr. Must-Be-The-Boss wouldn’t allow me the departure without his due.-

Son of Rhuin if you need more reason to detest me. And might I ask your lineage since it is such an important talking point to you?

-I purposely ignored acknowledgement of what I owed him. I wasn’t done with his ire; I wanted to explore it, sick, twisted and masochistic as that made me. Casting my gaze downward in tribute to dear old dad. He’d been the one to invite this punishment. His actions were the ones I could never live down. His legacy was my death wish.-

Assail

Son of… Rhuin. I couldnae remember if I knew that name or if I’d just heard so many in my long lifetime that they all sounded familiar the now. And the way he spat out his father’s lineage had me wondering what sort of dissonance had driven it’s sharp wedge in between them. The only thing worse than politics and religion was family. Aye, Jagger, son of Rhuin hung his head and I could see now that he didn’t just lack the proper manners in announcing himself. He chose specifically /not/ to tie his name to his father’s. That was quite interesting indeed. My grip on his nape tightened once again, forcing his head to lift in my direction so I could pierce those daddy-didn’t-love-me eyes with my own dark stare.

“I shall gladly do you the honor, Jagger, son of Rhuin. I am Assail, son of Assail. And in case your now-bruised head hasn’t figured it out yet, I /am/ the boss. Furthermore, in case those ears of yours aren’t working quite right either the now, I said: You owe me a dealer and his earnings. You took one of mine down the other night and made off with his cash. Now the question is, how do we fix this situation? I’m thinking perhaps if you are desperate enough for money to kill a dealer, then mayhaps you could not only pay back what you stole, but earn a little extra for yourself by playing my little errand boy.”

Jagger

-Errand boy. The fuck? I’d sooner meet my end. That little delivery of expectation left my mind ringing as much as the knock to my face. I let the fuzzy thoughts come back into focus before attempting my response, and now this male was going to listen to me. It didn’t matter if he had his hand wrapped precariously around my neck. If it was due to be snapped, so be it, still wouldn’t get him what he wanted out of me.

There was the briefest moment of envy that flashed between heartbeats when the male so proudly stated his predecessor and namesake. Clearly he was not lineage-challenged like myself. I would use this to buff and shine his ego a bit. There was but one angle for me to take.-

Assail, son of Assail. My mistake in taking you for anything other than the man in charge. My ignorance precedes me. Apologies. I was not so well graced as you were with your sire.

-My flat tone was not meant in a manner of disrespect but to tamp down on the seething that that happened when I saw his aim from a fuller vantage.-

Good? Good. Now, hear this. I will not be in bed in with the enemy, though they seem to be your current bedmates of choice figuratively speaking, natch. Brotherhood know about this? -I let the question hang for a moment, this was my only leverage in the negotiation, and my sticking point.-

Guessing not. -Raising a hand before any protests or defenses can be raised.-

It’s not my intent to make any trouble for you with the Brotherhood. Not my business.  I’ll return what I pulled off that lesser along with whatever sum of cash you demand. Errand boy is on you.

Fair, no?

Assail

This male had balls the size of my Tahoe, and it displeased me that even with my long fingers wrapped around his neck, he still saw fit to think he could run this negotiation. As if I was about to negotiate. My other hand grabbed the door handle, popping it open.

“Remove him from my vehicle,” I spoke softly to Ehric. Jagger’s door immediately opened, Evale grabbing him by his jacket and pulling his body outside. A second later I was out my side, Ehric and myself rounding the back as Evale held my guest against the vehicle. Once we got close Ehric grabbed him as well. There was no chance of escape. I sneered, fangs out, leaning in close enough to the male that each pore on his nose was visible to mine eyes. The flecks of color in his eyes were burned into my memory as I spoke.

“If you think to threaten me with the Brotherhood, you should know… I operate outside their rules. I bend to no one. I serve mine own needs, and no one else’s, not even the Blind King himself. That being said, if you wish to hang a threat of exposure over my head, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to simply remove your tongue. No words, no tattling.”

I drew my finger across the wrist of his arm as Ehric held him in place.

“Fingers might have to go as well, can’t have any notes left in the First Advisor to the King’s mailbox.”

I let those ideas sink in for a moment, stepping back and pulling out a cigar. I needed something to calm me, something to focus my senses on since I couldn’t take a hit at the moment. A spark, a flame in the dark of the night, and I was in business, puffing a few times as thoughts moved about inside mine head. Finally I turned and focused on the male again.

“Ten thousand. That is what you owe me. And one favor, one you vow to complete the now, but shall be called due at a later date.”

I nodded at Evale, who retrieved the male’s cell phone from his pocket. Mine cousin called my cell phone with it, the sliver in mine pocket vibrating twice before he ended the call.

“Now I have your number, Jagger, son of Rhuin,” I pulled the cigar from my mouth and pointed at him with it. “Ten thousand. One favor. You’ll only have one errand to run in the end.”

I leaned in close, our noses bumping together as I mocked his earlier sentiment.

“Fair?”

Jagger

-Reflexes had my hand going to my neck at the moment I was pinned like the tail on the donkey to the body of the SUV. This invited my first rise of panic, not for the manhandling but instead for the lack of my mother’s cross, enhanced by the accompanying throb at my throat left behind by the insistent rush of blood back to the scene of the former grip of my captor.

I somehow managed not to lose my shit over my most sentimental possession, reigning it in as  focus shifted to the male in front of me, his patience seemingly dusted. There was no missing the slick line of his bared fangs or the hit of his breath on my face. He no doubt hadn’t missed my thick swallow within the intimate range he chose.

I otherwise didn’t flinch. Not at the idea of losing my tongue. Not when he traced an invisible guide on my wrist to threaten its severing. The chill that climbed my spine was involuntary and somehow triggered by the proximity of a warm body.

Strange.

I met his bravado with an upturn of my lips, then observed with a keen eye as he stepped back, noting a small tremor in his hand as he raised a cigar to his, plumes of smoke circling his head as if choreographed in their perfect rings. Demands were laid out in a tone that held no give, edged with a deadly undercurrent. Helpless to stop the retrieval of my phone and the silent orders carried about by the mute Ehric and Evale, I let them shake me down without protest, again unflinching when met with Assail’s mocking final word and kiss of our noses that could only be classified as posturing. I shrugged in the hold of the henchmen as much as my restricted position allowed.-

As I indicated before rage affected your hearing, I’ve no interest in reporting you to the Brotherhood.

You will have your favor and the sum, Assail son of Assail.

-There was no point in making counter demands. As soon as I was free from his bulldogs’ sweaty grips, I’d be master of my own ceremonies again. I’d every intention of carrying out the favor and paying my penance, so long as the male did not put me in league with the enemy. I could not allow that, but my new “friend” needn’t know it.-

Assail

I sensed his agreement to my terms wasn’t the victory he sought this eve, and although it didn’t bring me as much pleasure as I’d hoped, it did put a win in my column. I’d get my cash back, and a favor of my choosing some time in the future. Which would take careful choosing, as this male, this… Jagger, son of Rhuin, I sensed was something other than the usual young males I ran into in my line of business. They were usually half-cocked with their swagger hanging out. Jagger, while stubborn and ballsy, wasnae as foolish as the typical bullheaded male. I could tell he was perceptive, and while he had made a mistake this eve in assuming I was the errand boy, he got wise to what was really going on the instant we stepped out of the Iron Mask. A male like him could mayhaps be useful one day.

Look at you, Assail. Recruiting like the Brotherhood. I had a worthy informant, the lovely Evayhne. And now I was scouting a male whose origins I must needs research further. Rhuin. I would find his lineage. I glanced at the twins, nodding once as I puffed on my cigar.

“Let him go the now.”  They did so immediately, but stood close by in case Jagger felt the need to retaliate now that his arms and legs were of his own use again. “I will be in touch, Jagger. Give you instructions on where to bring the cash. I assume a fortnight will be enough time. If it’s not, you can bring me what you have and we’ll discuss how to handle the balance.”

With that, I turned away, stepping down towards the docks, under the cloak of night away from the low lights of the Tahoe’s interior. The twins would ensure Jagger’s departure. I had other things to ponder the now.

Jagger

-Although the night had ended up with a few rough edges and a small sacrifice of blood, the outcome wasn’t so far off the mark of what I’d hoped, save for one thing.

There was no weight on my shoulders for the tithe Assail had demanded for my inadvertent meddling in his business. He would eventually be pleased to find how true I intended to be with my word.

But the night had not been without its loss.

My heart sunk like an anchor from my chest to the floor of my guts at the notice of the loss of my most priceless possession.  For surely as it was missing from around my neck, the gravity of my mother’s absent cross bore down like an elephant having a sit in on my pectorals.

It was hard to draw air.

With my symbolic and physical tie to her gone, the confirmation had been penned in permanent ink; my time was coming.  There was nothing left for Jagger son of Rhuin in this life.

With that revelation in mind and no further word, I dematerialized into the night.-