#had a longer version of this but wouldn't have enough room for all the pictures

[raayllum]

Rayla and Callum really are the OTP of all time like how am I supposed to go back to anyone or anything else when the level of detail and mini arcs and line callbacks are just so good and consistent like??

"The thing is, Moonshadow elves aren't supposed to show fear. Ever." (1x05) → "I'm afraid of hurting him, but I owe him the truth" (2x02)

"Then it's a cycle. You hurt me, someone will get revenge against the elves, it won't end" (1x02) → "I've been thinking about something someone once told me, about how when one person hurts another and that person hurts them back, it becomes a cycle that never ends." "Who told you that?" "You did" (2x07)

and that's coupled together with advice of "who are you? what do you stand for? once you figure that out, you'll end up where you were always meant to be" (2x05)

The way they're always thinking about the other person ("Rayla, would you say it could cut through pretty much anything?" "My wrist binding!" / "They're called adoraburrs. I thought you'd like them!" "I love them!") and think that the other person is the most annoying person they've ever met but also the absolute Best

which makes sense cause they always know how to cheer the other person up and they're best friends

and ofc how they're Ride or Die since day 1 until the end of all time

Like ship of all time, truly

[greetingfromthedead]

Die with You (Vash x GN!Reader)

Plot: Vash wakes up from a nightmare about the world ending, comforted by your presence in his arms, but little does he know then that his world would end soon enough. Series: None Pairing: Vash x GN!Reader Rating: Teen + Tags: No use of "Y/N", Established Relationship, Slight Fluff, Hurt / Comfort /More Hurt, Angst, Character Death, Cuddling, Crying, Nightmares, Loss, Grief, works with every very version of Vash. Word count: 0.8k

Vash strokes gently over your hair, his large hand cupping the back of your head as he inches closer, to nuzzle his nose into the messy strands. His nostrils are filled with the familiar scent that puts his heart at ease and brings him back into reality. The pounding in his chest slows down just as you stir from your sleep.

"Vash?" Your sleepy voice pipes up, muffled by his body and the blanket draped over both of you.

"Sorry, my love, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep." He speaks softly, his tight embrace keeping you close. You snuggle into his chest, feeling the warmth and security of his love surrounding you.

"Why are you awake? Did you have a nightmare again?" you ask, concern evident in your voice.

"Maybe. Don't worry," Vash speaks through the darkness of the little room. His eyes are closed, picturing your smile in his mind.

"Tell me," you whisper, and let your fingers trace along his back. He relaxes under your touch.

"I…" Vash hesitates but continues anyway: "I had a dream that the world was ending. The sky was painted crimson like spilled blood as it fell down in fiery waves. I watched heavens collide before me. I watched the chaos unfold with a heavy heart, feeling powerless against the impending destruction. I was so scared. Scared I wouldn't see you again as the world crumbled around me."

"Oh, Vash," you sigh and hug him, pressing your face into his chest where you can hear the beating of his tender heart.

"And I still think about that horror. What if the world dies with the ruby sunrise?" His quiet and hoarse voice cracks as he falls silent.

"Then we will die in each other's arms, and I will be happy to spend my last moments looking into your blue eyes, knowing that I am loved until the very end," you respond, your hand creeping to his cheek to tenderly caress it. "And that is all I could ever ask for."

"Wouldn't you want more time?" Vash asks, his breath moving a few stray hairs on your forehead, leaving behind a tickling sensation.

"Tomorrow or a hundred years from now, it doesn't matter. I will be immortal as long as you live; I will always die with you. And that is enough."

Vash curls up on the bed, clinging on to the bedsheets he forbids anyone else to touch. It still smells of you. The faint fragrance of your hair lingers on the pillowcase and the white cotton under his body. The familiar scent puts his heart at ease and allows him to dream of a reality less cruel than this one. A world where you are still by his side.

He has stayed here longer than he had planned. Longer than he should. Yet he cannot bring himself to leave, not when he can still feel your presence lingering in every corner of this run down little hotel room. Not when he can still hear your laughter echoing through the empty walls. Not as long as he can pretend that you are still in his arms if he shuts his eyes tight enough.

It wasn't a blood red sunrise that brought Vash's world to an end. It was the simple silence that followed the gunshot that took your life. It was an accident; there was no malice, no revenge, or anger to poison the wound in your chest. It was a kid who played with a loaded gun. Vash didn't sense the danger, didn't suspect that his life was about to shatter. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The sky came crashing down on the crimson backdrop of your pooling blood as you looked into his eyes. Your tender gaze will haunt him for the rest of his days. A slight smile lingered on your lips as Vash held you in his arms. The ragged sound of your last breath will be etched in his memory forever.

Another sob escapes Vash's body as he curls up further, muffled by the tear-soaked pillow. He remembers the butterflies in his stomach so vividly, the way they came to life the first time he met you. How they continued to flutter every moment he spent with you. Now they are a heavy weight in his guts, a dead mass of lead bugs. The love he carries for you in his heart has nowhere left to go, making it feel like it's slowly suffocating him from the inside out. He knows what you meant when you said you will die with him no matter what. He carries the memories, the affection, and a heart that beats for you. But a part of him died with you and is now buried in the desert sand with your bones. A part that can never be replaced.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Sixty Six

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi besties <3

As always, the love for this version of them means the entire world. You're probably going to yell at me for this one too...and again, I deserve it.

-x-

Words: 2.1k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He still wasn’t used to the heat. The humidity was almost oppressive at times, making it almost impossible to concentrate. 

Emily had told him he’d struggle, her smile teasing as she bought him linen clothes he’d frowned at, the thin and floaty material a far cry from his usual sharp-edged suits. She’d said that he’d need them, that she knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t cope with the weather in Pakistan, and she’d been right. 

Everywhere he went he pictured her, imagined her pale skin slowly tanning, her dedication to sunscreen unlike anything he’d ever known. He imagined her hair curling in the humidity, the volume she hated but he loves slowly getting out of control. She seemed at home everywhere she went, always easily adapting to her surroundings, a hangover of her childhood he knows she hates. 

He missed her. He missed his family. The short phone calls and emails he exchanged with his wife were not enough. The pictures of the kids that she would send would make him ache, guilt and irritation he could only aim inwards blooming in his gut every time. 

He’d already been here for two months, and was already closing in on the original deadline he’d given his superiors on when he’d like to go home, but he knew that they wanted him here longer. Any conversation he had about him leaving, about the handover he’d already written up, was skirted around, his boss waving him off like they had months to go. 

He just wanted to go home, to kiss his wife, to hug his children. And he was close to just doing it anyway, consequences be damned. 

He blows out a breath when he hears his satellite phone ring and he lifts it from its holster on his belt, pulling up the antenna as he answers it, “Hotchner.” 

“Hotch, it’s JJ.” 

His heart drops into his stomach the moment he hears her voice, worst-case stealing the breath from his lungs. No one other than Emily had called him since he’d come here, the number was need to know, but he knew his wife had given it to her friend for emergencies. 

“JJ, what’s wrong?” He demands, his grip on the phone tight, his jaw clenched as he tries to reason with himself, trying to assure himself that he’s overreacting. 

JJ sighs, her voice soft, almost too kind as it comes down the line, “It’s Emily. There’s been an accident.” 

___

Two Days Earlier

Emily carefully pulls the door to the nursery shut behind her, grateful when she’s met with silence afterwards, Lily having finally fallen asleep. 

She yawns as she walks down the hall and towards the stairs, rolling her neck as she goes. Once she gets to the living room she frowns when Jack isn’t where she’d left him when she took Lily to bed, the TV paused on the movie she’d put on for him and his toys abandoned. 

She feels a moment of panic flash through her, the reality of balancing two young children by herself something she felt like she was constantly failing at. Before Aaron left for Pakistan, they’d take it in turns putting Lily to bed. When it was her turn, Aaron would make her a snack, a habit that had stuck from when she was still breastfeeding, and he’d watch a cartoon with Jack. When it was Aaron’s turn to put Lily to bed, Emily would snuggle with the little boy, her arm wrapped around him as she made sure he got some of her undivided attention. 

She missed having a partner in all of this, the reality of doing this herself wearing her down, her patience for her husband’s absence almost non-existent. She wanted him home, wanted to go back in time and tell herself to not let him go, to have him quit rather than deal with this. 

She knew she could cope without him, she had done for years before they met, but she didn’t want to. She loved having him with her, having his reassurance and love as her cornerstones, her already strong foundations she’d built alone made stronger by him, by their family. By the life they were building together. 

She had no interest in living life without him. 

“Jack,” she calls out, turning and leaving the living room as she looks for her stepson, “Where are you?” 

“In the kitchen,” he replies, and she frowns curiously as she follows his voice, relief washing over her when he sounds unharmed.. 

“What are you doing, honey? Are you okay…” she trails off as she walks into the kitchen, surprised by what she finds. 

Jack is sitting on the counter, one of the stools from the breakfast bar he’d clearly climbed on dragged over. There's a plastic Spiderman plate next to him with a peeled banana on it, the skin abandoned on the surface behind it. The banana has been torn into chunks, and she could picture him pulling it apart with his hands, the sticky residue he’d wiped onto his shirt the only evidence she needs. 

She smiles as she walks over to him and ruffles his hair, her smile getting wider as he leans into it, “I could have made you a snack if you wanted one.” 

“It’s not for me,” he says as he frowns, looking so much like Aaron it makes her ache, “It’s for you.” 

She feels her heart clench in her chest, the love she feels for this little boy wrapped tight around it like a vice, “What have you made me a snack for?” 

He shrugs, “Daddy always makes you a snack when you take Lily to bed,” he says as if it’s obvious, like it’s not the sweetest thing anyone has done for her in a long time, “I also made you some tea.” 

She snaps her head to where he’s pointing, panic that he’d somehow used the kettle overwhelming her until she sees the cup he’s talking about next to the fridge. There was no steam coming from it, and the tea bag was floating at the bottom, no hint that it had brewed at all, and she’d put money on him having used ice water from the fridge dispenser. 

She looks back at him and pulls him into a hug, adjusting her hold on him so she can lift him, placing him on her hip as she kisses his forehead, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, something that had become even more comforting to her since Aaron had left. She saw more and more of him everyday in Jack and Lily, their facial expressions and personalities giving her flashes of her husband. Tiny pieces of him that weren’t enough. 

“That’s so sweet of you, honey,” she says, kissing the side of his head again as she picks up the plate with the banana on it, “Why don’t you hold this and I’ll get my tea,” she says and he nods, carefully taking the plate from her, “And we’ll watch that cartoon together before you go to bed and we’ll share my snack.”

He frowns at her, tilting his head at her as she walks them back to the living room, “But I made it for you.” 

She kisses his head again, hoping she hides her wavering smile in the action, his endless empathy enough to tip her over the edge when she was at her best. 

“I know, but you can’t possibly expect me to eat all of this,” she says, smiling when he nods in agreement as she settles down on the couch. 

She drinks the freezing cold, flavourless tea and eats the half-mashed banana as Jack falls asleep against her, and she thinks it’s the best snack she’s ever had in her life. 

___

She was running late. 

She curses herself as she dumps her purse on the passenger seat of her car, and she groans when she sees the time. 

“Shit,” she mumbles to herself, pulling her seatbelt on as she dials the daycares number and turns on the engine, her phone on speaker as she abandons it on the seat next to her, impatient as she waits for the call to connect as she drives out of the Quantico parking lot. 

“Sunnyside Daycare, this is Alice.” 

“Alice, hi,” Emily says, breathing a sigh of relief, “It’s Lily Hotchner’s mom. I’m so sorry, a meeting overran and I’m only just leaving work, so I’m going to be late-”

“Mrs Hotchner, it’s fine,” Alice says kindly as she cuts her off, “Lily is currently playing happily and we’re here for another couple of hours. You’re fine.” 

Emily chuckles wryly and nods to herself, pulling the car to a stop at an intersection, the red light almost mocking her as it changes just as she approaches, “Thank you,” she replies, feeling calmer, “I always feel terrible when I’m late.” 

The meeting had been with Strauss of all people. She’d pulled her into her office just before she was due to leave, an expression on her face that let Emily know there was no arguing with her. At first, Strauss had simply asked her how she was doing, enquiring about Aaron’s absence in a way that felt almost uncharacteristically kind, although Emily was sure it was because the other women missed having Aaron as a buffer between herself and Dave. 

Then the conversation had taken a turn she really hadn’t expected. They’d had an interim Unit Chief of the Counterterrorism unit since Carson had been fired, but it had always been made clear that it was temporary until they found a suitable replacement. 

Strauss had asked Emily if she’d be interested in taking over the unit, citing both her specialism in linguistics, her work ethic and her robust record at the bureau. It had taken her by surprise, wondering how the woman who had once told her she’d never advance in the FBI was now offering her a promotion over people who’d been in the team longer than she had. 

She’d left without giving Strauss an answer, citing that she’d need to talk to Aaron, whenever she was next able to, before she could make any decisions. 

“No need to feel bad, Mrs Hotchner,” Alice assures her, “Lily is adorable, so we’ll never say no to a little extra time with her.” 

Emily laughs, her eyes flicking up to the red light as it changes to amber, “She is pretty cute, even if I do say so myself,” she says, smiling when the other woman laughs, “I’ll be about 30 minutes depending on traffic.” 

“See you soon,” Alice says and the call ends as the light turns green. 

Emily starts to drive, excited to see her little girl after a strange day at work, and wondering to herself if she’d get to call Aaron that night, if she could discuss the potential step forward in her career with the person whose opinion she valued the most.

She doesn’t notice the car that runs a red light on the other intersection until a second before it hits her. Time slows down as the metal of the car groans as it crumbles, loud scraping sounds as the passenger side where the other car hit disappears, taking the force of the other driver’s speed. She tries her best to control it, her hands tight on the steering wheel as the car spins. It must last only a matter of seconds, her head hitting the dashboard as she’s flung back and forth, held tightly in place by her seatbelt. 

When the car finally stops, she feels dizzy, the shouting outside the car, onlookers running over to help, sounds out of focus. Like it’s far away, trapped behind glass as she tries to move, a sharp pain from her right shoulder pinning her in place just as much as the crumpled metal around her. She places her left hand on her forehead and winces when she feels blood, her stomach churning as she pulls back and sees the grim red pattern against her skin, sinking into her finger tips and into the cracks of her nails, the cuticles torn open from anxiety caused by the absense of her husband. 

She starts to lose consciousness, shock setting in as people start to approach her car, and the last thing she thinks of is her family.

-x-

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[nyctophiliq]

Hello! By way of introduction, I’m a 28 year old bisexual woman, and I have no particular gender preference. I would be interested in an Overwatch matchup. My MBTI is ISTJ, and my zodiac is Libra. Personality-wise I’m pretty reserved and can certainly be aloof, but I warm up pretty fast, even if I sometimes show I care in unusual ways. I’m a pretty smart and analytical person and am pretty knowledgeable about a lot. I can also get pretty passionate and enthusiastic about my interests. I’ve also been told I’m pretty witty and have a good sense of humor. I’m a fairly classy woman, dressing fairly elegantly, regularly going out to see ballets, and in fact trying to learn opera as a hobby. Appearance wise I’m about 5’7”, decently muscular, with light skin and long auburn hair and brown eyes. I think I’m running out of room, so hopefully that should be enough information!

your match-up and star messenger is . . .

COLE CASSIDY (estp) !

you are the "cocky and the diva-ish" couple

it's no matter what moment you have first caught cassidy's eyes, every time he looks at you for a little while longer, letting his thought wander. he can't help the thought of spending a lifetime with you, marrying you, and settle down if you wish to. he is a gentleman when he wants to be and his mouth doesn't just let snarky remarks out.

you both are sensing personalities, you tend to focus on the present and base decisions on logical thinking but you might prefer to follow a plan and be alone while cassidy loves connecting with others and seeking new experiences. but all of this doesn't mean he doesn't love to part take in your witty comments, battle with you until non of you can take each other seriously, and burst out laughing.

no matter how many times you corrected him before or called him stupid, he still thinks you are complimenting him someway somehow, he is delusional like that. no matter how stupid he acts he always finds a way to charm his way back into your heart so be ready. he cares in unusual ways just like you, no matter what crazy idea might pop into his head to make you feel better or just show his love, you can count on it that it will be both funny and touching.

you both are thinking personalities and address disagreements logically, as surprising as it is cole really does have a smarter side to him. resolving conflicts, real conflicts, and not the mouth karate you already do on a daily basis will be easier to do than you might imagine. while you might need some alone time to work through your issues because of your energy levels, you can expect him to be there at the end to settle the matter.

some aspects of your relationship would be:

teasing fights about who is the hotter shit, but in the end, you reserve him into a pile of ash by the end

picnic dates !!! you would think he wouldn't do anything so romantic like this but he is, and man it's good !

trying to get him to clothe up nicely whenever the two of you go out together, he might look all hot dressed up like his cowboy self but he would look even better in a suit or proper pants

"your eyes shine brighter than my mechanic arm, darling'"

MEETING EACH OTHER !

version 1

you were working at route 66's diner, serving pancakes for a living, and even if it was long hours, having to smell frying oil all day, and listen to the earful customers that came in it was still paying for your apartment and food. you did not complain too much, you had no real reason to because everybody has a bad day. then he waltzed in, with his stupid cowboy hat and gun on his belt, a cocky smile plastering on his face as he took one of the booths you were assigned as the server to.

"penny for your thoughts beautiful? a stack of pancakes on me for you while you are at it."

version 2

blackwatch was deep in the murky waters with the US government wanting to disband the squad and with overwatch, even if they didn't really want it, supporting the idea. that's where you came into the picture, the person who could potentially turn around the fate of the operational group for the better. you came in, taking them apart member by member and when it came around to be cole cassidy, it was troublesome to keep up with his smart comments, but you can't say you didn't have the most fun with him out of the other members.

"cole cassidy, but you can call me whatever you want darlin'...."

YOUR SONG IS . . .

hot blooded by foreigner !

[whimsicallyreading]

Dark Roast, No Sugar

“Last night I woke the hell up. I realized I need you here, as desperate as that sounds, yeah.” - Jon Bellion

Masterlist

Chapter Nine-

Aelin showed up to the police department in a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt. She didn't even bother putting on the new-ish sneakers she owned, opting for the ones with holes because they didn't squeeze her feet. It wasn't the first impression she wanted to give, but you deserve a little forgiveness when making a whole-ass human.

Leaning over the dash of the car, she presses a friendly kiss to the side of Chaol's face. "Thanks for the ride, boys."

His cheeks redden, and Dorian leans as much of his body as he can into the front of the car, "No sugar for me?"

Aelin laughs and kisses his cheek good-naturedly. "Feel less left out now?"

"Much better," the corners of his happy smile dim, his blue eyes dart to the doors of the precinct. "Are you sure you don't want me to call you a lawyer, Aelin?"

Chaol nods his agreement beside him, his hands clenching the steering wheel despite the car being in park. "Do you want me to go inside with you?"

Aelin feels a bubble of warmth blossoming in her chest. Their worried faces and eagerness to help her- it was almost enough to warm an assassin's heart. "Don't worry. They just need me to clarify a few things in my statement. Nothing serious. Paperwork issues."

Dorian and Chaol had shown up right as she was walking out of the front door of The Stag. When they realized she was leaving and offered her a ride... Aelin couldn't say no. Not with how her feet were aching.

It took some more reassuring, but they finally agreed to let her leave their caring grasps.

Fenrys met her at the door with a smile, "Hey, Baby Mama. Looking beautiful."

Aelin is surprised to find she's genuinely happy to see him. She can't help the toothy grin he brings out in her. "I'm well. How are you this morning, Fen?"

Fenrys lights up at the nickname. "I bought us some donuts. We have a hard day of work ahead of us, and I figured we would deserve a treat in advance."

Donuts sounded phenomenal and vastly improved her outlook of the day.

He steers her through the PD, and several heads turn to stare as she passes. Aelin didn't particularly care. Whatever they thought they knew about her, they probably didn't.

When they finally reach Rowan's office, they find him slumped over a laptop at a desk piled high with neatly stacked papers. The room is minimalistic. Only necessary office items were visible—no personal effects, knickknacks, or pictures of any kind adorning the space.

Rowan himself is also in his usual state of neatness, minus the dirt she could see staining the underside of his nails. He must have been gardening this morning.

Aelin doesn't bother with greetings. She grabs a chair opposite him and sits down. The last few days, she'd been feeling more drained and quick to tire. At first, she attributed it to the baby getting larger and demanding more of her body's resources, but now Aelin started to think that she caught a bug galavanting through the night.

Fenrys set a blueberry donut and a cup of hot tea in front of her. Bless him. Aelin mumbles her thanks before stuffing her mouth.

Rowan shuts his laptop with a snap and replaces it with a yellow notepad. "Alright, Aelin. I need a name. Who do you think is doing this?"

"When is Aedion getting released?" She says around a mouthful of glazed blueberry.

Fenrys slumps into an office chair at a tinier desk in the corner of the room. "This afternoon."

"If all goes well at this meeting," Rowan tacks on the thinly veiled warning. "I need a name."

Aelin leans back in her seat and takes a deep breath. There was a strange heaviness in giving his name. As if speaking it would materialize him into existence in front of her. Her goal when she moved to Ornyth was to forget about him and push her old master as far from her mind as she physically could, but she supposed it was naive to think he wouldn't come looking for her.

This wasn't just for her, Aelin reminds herself. Aedion would benefit from this conversation.

"His name is Arobynn Hammel. He's thirty-five, red hair, grey eyes, and an utter asshole." Aelin lays the name of her childhood tormentor out on the table. A bad taste sours her mouth.

Rowan tosses the notepad to Fenrys, who relays what she said to the paper. He looks at her over his desk with an unreadable expression. "What is your relation to Mr. Hammel?"

"Why?" Aelin chuckles as if the stress is trying to escape her with each half-hearted chuckle. "Do you want to know if he's my baby daddy?"

"Yes," Rowan and Fenrys say simultaneously.

Aelin's smile falls, and she scowls at both of them. They didn't know better, but she still felt insulted.

"He isn't, but I suppose he probably would have liked to be. Make sure to underline that," she points at Fenry's pad of paper. "Arobynn raised me. I don't think he was legally a foster parent, but he is who I was given to in the shuffle after the occupation."

Rowan dips his chin. Green eyes focus on her intensely, as if he's trying to absorb and commit her every word to memory. "How old were you when they put you in his care?"

"Eight," Aelin breathes out, a sharp tingling of grief comes with that admission. "I lived with him from the time I was eight until I turned nineteen."

"Why do you suspect him of producing and distributing Synth?" Rowan asks the nail-in-the-coffin question, and Aelin has to bite back old instincts to lie and conceal this information. It makes her feel vulnerable to expose Arobynn.

Vulnerability isn't an emotion she handles well. After all, when you bare your neck to someone, it becomes within their power to cut their throat.

"I've seen where he makes it, and I oversaw some of his high-risk contracts and dealings with the distribution," Fenrys chokes beside her, but he smothers it with a cough. Even Rowan looks a little taken back, eyes narrowing.

"At what age did you start assisting with his-" he struggles to find the words. "-His business practices."

Aelin blinks, "Eight."

This time, neither of them covers their reactions. They both freeze in their seats, an air of disbelief hanging over them. Aelin feels a chill and tugs at the hem of her shirt, wishing the sleeves were longer.

"What?" Rowan is the first to break the tension.

"I was displaced in the occupation," Aelin begins the watered-down version of her sob story. "I was carted into Adarlan and placed in the care of Arobynn Hammel. Within a couple of months, he was already using me as a mule to get orders across Rifthold. He trained me in various skills to carry out larger jobs, along with a few other children."

"There were others?" Rowan looks saddened by that tidbit.

Mentally Aelin wants to laugh.

Of course, he would be upset at the prospect of other good children suffering from such a fate.`Ones who had the potential he thought she lacked.

If only he knew what bastards they all grew up to be, and she by far was not the worst of them.

Fenrys' eyes were gleaming with more pity than Aelin was comfortable with because, unlike Rowan, she knew it was directed towards her. Gratefully he didn't dig too deeply. Instead, Fenrys picked up the next question. "Can you name the others?"

Aelin bites her lip, leg fidgeting under the table. "Tern Fletcher, Archer Flynn, Adam Mulligan, Lysandra Ennar-" she swallows past the lump in her throat. "Samuel Cortland and myself."

"Lysandra was involved?" Rowan leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He hasn't looked away, barely blinked, since the questioning began. Aelin feels naked as his eyes seemed to be raking in her every movement.

"Not-" she tries to think of how to phrase it in a way that respects her friend's privacy. "She wasn't involved in the same capacity I was."

"Are the others you know still working with Hammel?" Rowan asks, and Aelin gladly lets them move the conversation away from Lys. She wasn't comfortable digging into her friend's wounds when she wasn't around.

"I suspect Mulligan, Flynn, and Fletcher. They were extremely loyal, and as of the last time I saw them, very active in the business." Aelin fondly remembers the beat down she laid on Archer before their parting words. He sold them out, and she hopes for his sake that they never run into each other again.

Fenrys looks up, "What about Samuel?"

"What?" Aelin flinches, the question taking her back.

"Samuel Cortland," Rowan reiterates. "You named him as one of the employees in Hammel's custody but implied he's no longer active in the business. Where is he then?" He leans forward, and Aelin wishes she could shrink back. "Would he be willing to speak with us?"

"Children." Her voice comes out as gruffer than she intends. "We were kids. Not employees. It wasn't a mutual agreement. None of us could consent to what became of us."

Aelin is surprised by the emotion that makes itself known. She swallows back the tears that want to fall and stuffs her trembling hands under her thighs. The implication any of them had a choice in serving Arobynn was disturbing and utterly wrong.

The taste of skin between her teeth, blood crusting under her nails, and being surrounded in pitch-black darkness consume her. Aelin suddenly feels more ill than she had this morning.

"Of course, Aelin." Fenrys placates. "That's understood. We just need to know where Samuel is. He could be very useful to the investigation."

"Dead," Aelin throws the word out like a dying fish on the table. "He died."

It hurt to say that. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. Sam dying was worse than talking about Arobynn. A million times worse.

Aelin tries to swallow the lead rock in her throat. Arobynn didn't deserve to be known. His legacy was of blood, abuse, and control. It belonged in the sewer alongside his corpse.

Sam, on the other hand, deserved to be known. He abandoned by the system, forgotten by his family, and still chose kindness above all else. Sam's story deserved to be told, and it killed Aelin that it hurt her so much to share it.

"How did he die?" Fenrys prods delicately.

"What?" Aelin asks dumbly, heart accelerating in her chest.

"How did Samuel die? Any details you can give are beneficial. and you agreed to cooperate." Rowan reminds her sternly.

Mala save her, she couldn't go into detail about how she found him. She couldn't. Aelin feels blood rushing up to her head, and the room seems to sway.

"Sam. He liked to be called Sam-" Is all Aelin manages to choke out. "Excuse me."

Pushing herself from the desk, she shakily bolts for the office door. Their complaints are silenced as the glass shuts behind her. Outside, Aelin can feel the trembling beginning in her hands and spreading up her arms.

Sweat beads on her forehead in the oppressive heat of the building, but when she rubs her face, it feels damp and cold to the touch.

Aelin frantically strides down the hall, eyes darting around madly for a bathroom door. Nausea was creeping up her throat, and she really didn't want to throw up in someone's trashcan. She knew she was moving quickly, that someone might see her and become alarmed, but anxiety made everything feel like it was moving in slow motion.

A dainty hand grips her elbow and tugs in gently. "Follow me, dear. I can help you."

Aelin's head is swimming, and she allows the calming voice to steer her back in the other direction. When the person pushes open the bathroom door and Aelin sees the navy blue stalls, she rips her arm away and falls to her knees before the porcelain bowl.

Long, slender fingers pull her hair back from her face and rub her shoulders as Aelin loses her breakfast. "You are okay," the voice consoles—a hand massages up her spine and soothes the aches there.

Aelin's whole body is shuddering now. Her stomach rolls over itself, and the muscles of her diaphragm are quaking with exertion. She doubts she could get to her feet if she tried. A strand of drool hangs from her lips, and Aelin would be humiliated if her head wasn't still reeling.

Gouged eyes. Bent fingers. Blood on her lips.

A wad of paper towels appears and dabs at her cheeks, which Aelin hadn't even realized were wet with tears. She failed to notice that her body was shuddering under the intensity of the sobs coming from her. The woman continues to pat her cheeks and nose. Then to her mortification, it swipes at the spit hanging from her mouth.

Mala end me now, she mentally pleads.

Aelin looks up to find a woman with raven hair and onyx eyes looking at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't mean to overstep. I've been where you are before. Please don't be embarrassed."

Opening her mouth, Aelin makes to apologize, but another crackling sob breaks from her chest instead.

She's just tired. Tired of being sad. Tired of feeling sick. Tired of being unable to even say his name without breaking down.

Arms wrap around Aelin's shoulders and tug her into an embrace. She allows her face to burrow into the woman's blazer as the grief racks through her body.

"Oh, sweety. It's going to be alright. I promise whatever is going on right now will work out." Fingers rake through Aelin's hair soothingly. It turns her to jello in the woman's arms. Her presence was just so motherly in a way that Aelin sorely misses.

She holds Aelin tight until she's calm enough to hold a plastic cup of water without dropping it. The woman helps her stand and wipes the mascara smudges off her cheeks with a damp towel. "There you go," she tosses the towel in the trash when she deems Aelin presentable. "Brand new, again."

"Thank you," Aelin breathes out at last. "I don't even know what to say."

"Say nothing," the woman waves her hand. "I've been pregnant before. Hormones. Nausea. It isn't an easy ride, dear. Besides, no one comes to a police station for a good reason." The woman pulls a stick of gum from a purse sitting on the sink and offers it to her. Aelin accepts it gratefully.

"Has anyone told you that stress isn't good for you?" Her kind eyes bore into Aelin worriedly. "You look very pale."

"I've been told. Many times." Aelin rubs her forehead, an ache already forming there. "I just don't have much of a choice."

"What's your name? I'm Maeve." She smiles and extends a hand for Aelin to shake.

Aelin takes the hand, happy that they aren't trembling so badly. "Aelin."

"Do you have any name ideas for the baby?" Maeve's eyes glance down towards the slight swell of her belly a little wistfully.

Names? Aelin periodically forgot that the human growing inside of her would pop into the world and require such a thing. It was a far-off event where she had plenty of time to accommodate for things in her head. In reality, she was halfway through her fourth month.

Time was ticking.

"No. I don't have any ideas yet." Aelin admits.

Maeve pats Aelin's shoulder kindly. "That's just fine. Ignore my curiosity. You have plenty of time if-" she emphasizes, "you take better care of yourself."

There is a knock on the door. "Aelin, are you alright?"

Rowan.

"Yes. I'll be back in a minute," Aelin says through the door.

She waits until his footsteps echo back down the hallway before she makes towards the exit. Eager to leave the bathroom and the memories of her awkward breakdown with it. "Thanks again. Really. I appreciate it."

Aelin truly meant it despite the utter humiliation she felt.

"Let me walk you back to Rowan's office?" Maeve asked. "It's easy to get turned around in this building."

They walked in a comfortable silence back to the office. Maeve's demeanor is so tranquil it surprises Aelin when the demure woman pushes the door open without knocking. "I have a delivery for you boys."

"Chief?" Rowan stands up, confused.

What? Aelin blinks and turns back to the woman, noting the black and whites and the metal badge on the breast of her blazer. The same blazer Aelin had just cried on.

Blood rushed to her face, and her brain curdles in her skull. Of course, it was the law of Orynth whose arms she just broke down in. Adarlan's Assassin reduced to a ball of hormones clinging to the chief detective of Terrasen like a baby clinging to its mother.

"Has she caused trouble?" Rowan's eyes glint with steel.

If you've done anything to degrade me to my boss, the deal is off.

"Not at all. We ran into each other in the bathroom and had a lovely chat," Maeve brushes an invisible piece of dust from Aelin's shoulder. "I will let the three of you get back to business. You are in excellent company."

Aelin's lip quirks. Just the opposite. She loves me. Congratulations, you are already reaping the benefits of my presence.

"Oh, and Fenrys?" Aelin looks at Fenrys, who is actively ignoring them. "The reports you promised are late. Have them to my desk by the end of the day, please."

"Will do, Chief." Fenrys' reply is dry and lacks his usual pep.

Aelin notes the worried glance Rowan throws him, but he swiftly covers it with an expressionless mask. "I will make sure he gets it done."

What was that? Aelin tries to pry an answer from Rowan, but he avoids her look.

When Maeve leaves, the tension eases from the men's shoulders.

"You are trouble," Rowan tosses at her without venom.

Aelin picks up the cup of tea she left at his desk, glad it's still warm. "Yes, but only the best kind."

"We haven't laid out a single plan for weaseling out Arobynn," Fenrys makes an irritated face at them. "If either of you could focus for ten minutes, we can do the rest of the questioning later, but we need to start throwing out ideas."

"Did Rowan piss in your tea in the last ten minutes I was gone?" Aelin shoots back, not appreciating his sudden attitude.

"Thirty," Rowan says. "You were gone for thirty minutes. That's why I came looking for you. Also, ruining beverages is your thing, not mine."

Damn, had she been gone that long? A glance at the clock confirms he was correct.

When she turns back to Rowan, there is almost something like worry in his eyes? That couldn't be right, Aelin rubs that aching side of her head again. She needed to stop reading so deeply into things.

"We can continue with questioning later," Rowan announces. "Fenrys is correct in saying we need to start making plans. You've given us enough to work with for now."

They sat back in their chairs, pulled out more notepads, red pens, and sticky notes. Together, Aelin helped them form a list of potential places Arobynn would be laying low. Hotels, rental homes, and vacant manors. He had a taste for luxury Aelin knew he wouldn't sacrifice for anonymity.

Test results were still running on the Synth. Technicians had let them know it showed highly abnormal properties compared to average street drugs, and they promised to send them an extensive report when they were through.

Rowan had hushed any potential news stories about The Stag shooting. He didn't want anyone who may know Celaena to catch wind and start snooping around. Aelin was his best lead, which afforded her a certain level of discretion he acknowledged.

They didn't know about the Bane patrolling her block at night, keeping their eyes on the streets for unusual activity.

The clock ticked, and the light beaming through the winders grew warmer as the afternoon trickled away. It was nearly five o'clock when Rowan declared then done for the day, and Aelin was utterly exhausted.

"Come on," Fenrys offered her a hand to help her stand. "I can drive you by the prison. Aedion should be getting checked out as we speak."

"Thank you," Aelin accepts the help. Her feet ached, and she felt entirely drained. It was good Fenrys was offering a ride, or she'd have to call Dorian to come and get her.

Together, the three of them made their way to the parking lot. Conversation between them was sparse but not unpleasant. They'd fallen into a rhythm at some point while working together. It helped break up some of the awkwardness between her and Rowan.

Aelin hustled a little bit when she spotted Fenry's luxury car. She wanted to claim the front seat before Rowan did. Her gut couldn't handle the stress of riding the back.

Her fingers barely grazed the polished handle when Fenrys started yelling.

Arms wrapped around her waist, and Aelin's face throbbed as it found itself slammed into the asphalt. A loud explosion rattled her ears, and chunks of debris went flying through the air. A thick foggy smoke started filling the air, and she immediately started choking on it.

A dense weight lifts off her back, and hands grab her shoulders, rolling her body to face the clouded sky instead of the ground. Rowan is in her personal space immediately. He's speaking to her, but no sound is penetrating the ringing in her ears.

His hands are running along her arms, the side of her face, checking for injury. Aelin tries to ask him if he's alright, but he doesn't seem able to hear her either.

Suddenly, Fenrys is there, and he's grabbing them both by the arms. They are moving away at a sprint. Fenrys is yelling, but the smoke is stinging her eyes, and even seeing is becoming hard.

There is another explosion, and Aelin can feel the tremors beneath the soles of her shoes as the three of them hit the ground once more.

People are pouring out of the precinct. Aelin spies Cheif Maeve at the front of them, ordering people out of the building. Red and blue lights reflect off the smoke, and she knows that ambulances must be on their way.

Rowan is lying beside her. She hadn't noticed the rips in the back of his suit jacket at first, but there were long gouges in the material, and smoke wafted off a couple of scorch marks. The fact he'd thrown himself over her body and shielded her from the explosion was only starting to register when something warm squeezed her hand.

Are you okay? Green eyes were scouring her body for wounds.

I'm fine, Aelin assures him. She's more concerned about the spots on the back of his suit growing wet as he bled.

"Someone blew up my car," Fenrys is gaping at the spot where his vintage ride used to be. All that remained was a roughed-up frame that was lit ablaze like a campfire.

"Gods," Aelin breathed out, the ringing in her ears dying down. "I almost died."

Rowan hadn't let go of her hand and made no move to do so as his eyes fixed on the burning car. "That was meant for us."

He didn't have to elaborate for Aelin to understand. Whoever had placed the bomb hadn't been targeting her, but Rowan and Fenrys. They arrived and left work together. The bomb wasn't there when they got to the precinct this morning, so someone must have placed it while they were inside.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Fenrys runs a dirty hand through his hair.

Sirens wailed as paramedics filed into the parking lot. Other detectives and officers were starting to approach them. Firefighters approached the car with extinguishers and began to tame the burning fire.

Aelin didn't have an answer. Just the sinking feeling that the game they'd entered into had more players than she'd thought.

Here is part one of the mass updates! Thank you SO much for reading. I’ve gotten so much feedback and love on this fic it’s been so wonderful 💚

I do have an ✨IMPORTANT QUESTION✨

Would you all prefer I have tag lists specific to certain fics or an overall tag list for ships? So one tag list for all of my rowaelin fics, one for all my quinlar fics, or would you like me to keep it as I have been? Please let me know! ✨

Tag list- Let me know if you would like to be added or removed. :D ( names in bold won’t tag)

@thisismylibrary​

@highladywhitethrone​

@bee55​

@royalsqueeze​

@rowaelin-cressworth​

@booknerdproblems​

@sjmships​

@ladyfireheart-and-buzzard​

@wordsxstars​

@rowaelinismyotp​

@courtofjurdan​

@emmiesbook​

@killian-me-slowly​

@miserablemusings​

@aelinchocolatelover​

@booksbqueen​

@flamingveritas​

@tomtenadia​

@fromthelibraryofemilyj​

@loudphantomdragon​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@superspiritfestival​

@swankii-art-teacher​

@charlizeed​

@nish247

@vasudharaghavan

@maybekindasortaace

@mariamuses

@frosted-crackers

@foughtconquered

@live-the-fangirl-life

@ghostlyrose2

[stingslikeabee]

❛  give  those  back  to  me !  ❜

Labyrinth sentence starters . accepting

"Or what?" Melissa countered with a grin that was so purely fueled by mischief that would have made Majima proud - in fact, if the former adviser to the ex-chairman had also been there in their living room organizing all their combined possessions into their new apartment, he would probably have taken Melissa's side in relation to the picture album she had just stolen from one of Daigo's cardboxes.

After all - she had heard stories about how her husband had been brought up all prim and proper under the strict tutelage of the former Dojima patriarch, but she had never imagined it extended to the way he had dressed then - she was only two years younger than Daigo but she had never seen a kid her age wearing white short-sleeved shirts with bow-ties, or even suspenders with shorts and long black dress socks with such formal shoes.

Honestly - Daigo looked more like an heir to some random royal family than a yakuza one, and it had been absolutely unexpected. As the older version of the man in the pictures doubled over the stuff in the middle of their living room to try and snatch the photo album back, Melissa promptly maneuvered to remain out of his reach, standing up from the floor and seeking refuge behind the couch with an amused laugh - she knew it was a matter of time until she was defeated, so she had to enjoy whatever seconds she had with these pictures.

"Oh my god, Daigo," her native English slipped back for the comment, fingers flipping through the decades-old page with a snicker, "Or should I say Dojima-dono? Are you going to be able to live here without a butler or a housekeeper? Do I need to call you by an-"

But Melissa did not have the chance to finish her sentence - she had been too distracted by a picture of Daigo in what looked like a study (was that a piano behind him? Had he been tutored in all things stereotypically taught to all young rich heirs?) to realize that her husband had approached her - and very fast. He tackled Melissa expertly, throwing her to the couch in a way that removed any doubts about whether or not he continued to train religiously (even if there were no more underground coliseum battles) and removed the album off her hands, the object landing with a soft thud on the floor and sliding away, out of her reach.

But just to be on the safe side, Daigo remained on top of his wife, pinning her against the furniture with a glare that was only really half annoyed. Her grin was infectious and the fact that she had teased him enough to attack the ex-hostess that seriously made Melissa laugh again and move to kiss him sweetly on the lips, dissolving most of his playful irritation at his wife.

"You went from a small prince to a complete punk, I can't believe this."

"I wasn't a prince," he rebutted in what sounded like an offended tone, but it only made Melissa burst into laughter once more. She was apparently incapable of letting the subject drop.

"Yeah, right - what was the name of your butler? Please tell me it was Alfred or the Japanese equivalent. You had someone running the daily things for the Dojima household, no way your parents did it themselves."

"Melissa..."

"Yes, Dojima-dono?"

Daigo sighed - but there was a hint of a smile before he leaned down and kissed her - again. He took his time, enticing Melissa into a longer and deeper encounter between their mouths, something she appreciated in the way she gently embraced him and seemingly forgot about their exchange from a moment ago.

After all - if Daigo kept her busy enough, she wouldn't bring his childhood fashion style into conversation again so soon.

[ggukachuwu]

Chapter 1 | Guardian of Gold | Jeon Jungkook

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Pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

Genre: fantasy, alternate universe, illegitimate heir! jk, witch descendent! reader, angst, fluff, dual dimensions, magic, strangers to lovers

Warnings: nothing, except for mentions of the grandmother acting strange and the fictional use of various religious/spiritual practices for a fictional spiritual practice.

Synopsis:

In a world adjacent to our own, long lived the Guardian of Gold.

During your summer vacation, you decided to spend it with your quite eccentric grandmother. However, when you get there a series of strange events, odd dreams of different dimensions, and late night escapades with an illegitimate heir to some magical throne start to haunt you after you get your hands on an old book you found under the floorboards of you grandmother's home. Or was it really a dream at all and your grandmother has been hiding some dark and gruesome secrets that has followed your family for centuries?

or

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M THE HEIR TO POWERFUL WITCH BLOODLINE FROM ANOTHER DIMENSION?!!?!?!?!"

A/N: sorry for the wait between the prologue and chapter 1 ahaha. I've been kind of busy lately with work and other things. Also, I won't be using any Korean honorifics in this fic just because I don't want to misspell anything. Jungkook should be introduced in Chapter 2!!!

Your grandmother had been acting odd when you had arrived at her home a day earlier. It was almost like she was hiding something from you based on the way she seemed to hold you at arms length.

Granted, your grandmother had always been rather odd.

As a child, you remember watching her prance around her home chanting in some language that sounded made up.

Even the blessings or talismans she would regularly give to you and your cousins when you visited were different than what your friends would get from their grandparents. Your friends had always said it looked like she was giving you curses.

Of course, you didn't like that. You considered the things your grandmother gave you to be precious and they always gave you a warm tingly feeling that you would describe as happiness.

But regardless of how she's always been, this time was very different than what you were used to.

And that may be due to the fact that you were an adult now and not the wide-eyed child you once were. You were a grown woman who matured and wasn't so childish anymore, something your grandmother probably wasn't used to.

Still, her behavior made you feel odd.

The next day, while your grandmother was visiting a friend of hers, you stayed at the house.

You had spent most of the morning alone in silence, well...more like asleep. Lunch time was when your day started. You took a shower and ate some food.

You groaned, flinging the arm that was resting over your eyes to the floor. Oh, how incredibly bored you were. Your grandmother had been gone for a few hours and you weren't sure when she would be getting back. There was absolutely nothing to do in the house and it was so quiet.

"Ugh...what should I do?" you mumbled to yourself as you stared up at the ceiling.

After a few minutes of staring blankly into space, your eyes focused on something in the uncovered rafters. A tiny piece of what looked like the corner of a piece of paper stuck out just slightly from the rafter above you.

Curiosity filled your mind and bones like wandering ants, so you jumped up to find a stool to reach the piece of paper.

Unfortunately, the stool is just a little too short for you to be able to reach the piece of paper and you have to stretch on the toes of one foot to be able to reach it.

Your fingers brushed the piece of paper, wiggling it so that it falls off the beam. It flutters down into your hands, landing softly. The piece of paper is tinted a yellow-tan color, probably from age. It's crumpled and creased in places.

The piece of paper is actually bigger than you thought it was at first. Since it was crumpled up it looked smaller, but it's about A5 size.

As you opened up the paper and flattened it, you noticed the fading ink etched onto it.

The words written were an older form of Korean that you had a bit of trouble reading, but you were able to make out what seemed to be directions.

Under the floorboards near the alter lays the key to our success.

The directions were odd to you. Key to what success? You didn't understand.

Regardless, you went to the one place you could think of: your grandmother's prayer room. That was the only room with an alter.

In that room she kept the shrine that was dedicated to passed family members. It was also where she kept the books of your family history and everything about what exactly it was that she practiced.

You entered the room. It had a nice smell, likely from your grandmother's morning prayer where she lights her incense sticks and candles.

There was also a bit of fruit sitting on the alter and a glass of water. An offering to your ancestors. Pictures and nick-knacks rested on the table top, an apple or orange resting in front of each one.

Near the alter, under the floorboards.

Under the floorboards.

While holding the piece of paper delicately in your hand, you shuffled around the room near the alter looking of a loose floorboard. It took a bit of time, but in the corner next to the window, a board creaked and wobbled when you put your weight on it.

You had been trying to pry the floorboard up for the past thirty minutes, it felt like. You just couldn't get your fingers under it enough to get it up.

What could you do?

Standing up, you looked around the room. There was nothing that would be of use to you, except maybe something on the alter, but it would be disrespectful to your ancestor and grandmother to use anything on there.

Next you made your way to the kitchen in search of a spatula or something flat enough to get under the board.

Luckily for you, you had hung the spatula over the sink so it could dry after you washed the dishes you used to make your lunch.

You snatched the spatula and flung of any of the excess water still on it and swiftly went back into the prayer room.

Crouching down, you shoved the spatula in between the floorboards, praying that you wouldn't ruin it, and angled it just enough to get it to catch under the loose board to pull it up enough to get your fingers under it.

With a bit of creaking from nails coming out of their holes, you were able to lift up the loose board.

It was dark under the floorboards, so you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and turned on the flashlight.

There, at the very bottom of the hole, sitting on top of the dirt foundation under the house, was a wooden box. It had a dark wood stain, black metal hinges, and black embellishments.

You used your flashlight to look around the hole for a moment longer, just to make sure nothing was going to jump out at you and bite you before reaching down and pulling the box out of the hole.

Thankfully, there was no lock, just a little latch to keep the box closed.

You sat back and crossed your legs, resting the box in your lap. With a deep breath you glanced at the piece of paper that lead you to the box.

Under the floorboards near the alter lays the key to our success.

Who was the "our" the paper referred to? Your family? And success in what?

With a slight tremble in your fingers, you unlatched the box and lifted the lid.

The contents of the box was not what you expected. In the box was a single book, an old one, for that matter. It was made in a traditional book binding style, with yellowing pages, and curling edges.

You picked the book up, setting aside the box it was once contained in. You turned the book over in your hands, examining it. There was nothing really special about it. You weren't sure how this was supposed to be the "key to success."

The inside of the book was written in an older version of Korean, much like the piece of paper was, but thankfully you were still able to make out the gist of what the first page said:

The Guardian of Gold and the misfortune he caused for our kin. His reign must end and his empire must fall.

[sweetestlamb]

The Greatest Show

Summary: Come on, get into it. 

Author's note: I haven’t been inspired to write for this fandom in a while because honestly the writers are doing amazing, everything I think of is pure filth because I am eagerly awaiting their next kiss. But episode 17 broke my brain with their squash the rumor scene, the growling and grunting that So-Bong was so unaffected by. These two need a tent, desperately. Enjoy my royal pervs, here is my offering. 

p.s. picture borrowed from @tomorrowsdrama- thank you for the screenshots of this amazing moment! 

He's doing what he must to survive, that's all. End of sentence. He takes no pleasure in slamming the King into the closest surface and rubbing their body against him like a cat in heat, not in the slightest. Rumors are weeds, you have to rip them out for flowers and crops to flourish. That's all they're doing, weeding the garden of Joseon so it can flourish for their future child. 

That's what he tells himself as they cross paths in the royal hall, the King is flagged by the entire royal court animatedly discussing something of seemingly vast importance if their volume suggests anything. As he takes a step forward, Court Lady Choi seizes their hand halting them in place.

"Your highness you just not approach the King when he is with the Royal court. It is not proper. We just simply bow as they walk by."

But he doesn't care about propriety or appearing decent and well-behaved in front of these corrupt old bags, they are simply larger weeds that need to be disposed of. Smirking at their potential outrage, he grins evilly letting that fuel him even more before pulling up their dress to run over to their Cheoljongie. He looks bored out of his mind so it can also be considered a good deed, he's such a giving wife.

"My King!" Her voice rings out as he calls to his husband, who immediately looks over at them warmth filling those expressive eyes. Without hesitation the King bounds over to them happily, his movement only slightly faster than his usual glide ever the diligent King.

"My Queen, I have missed you."

The members of the backstabbing clan look disgruntled at the King's sudden departure, grumbling and pointing at them as if they have committed the highest crime.

If they think this is inappropriate then they're in for a huge surprise.

Looking down demurely, he thinks of his younger days when he was a junior understudy for the school play his acting prowess would come in handy now.

"Not as much as I have missed you, my love." He whispers the word of affection, reaching up to caress the King's cheeks softly making sure to appear infatuated. He has to force that after all because he doesn't do that naturally, despite what the royal maids claim. They are just confused, So-yong has a soft face that appears adoring at time despite his true emotions. 

With a soft whimper he throws himself into the King's arm, feeling those strong arms encircle her small waist, lightning zips through their veins but he ignores her bodily reaction.

We're just acting, take the memo! He internally berates the other inhabitant of this hormonally charged body.

But when Cheoljong strokes their neck and easily lifts them off their feet, he gasps loudly clinging to him harder for balance and because her knees suddenly feel weak.

"Your majesty, we do not have time for such....improper dalliance. You must not do this in such a public venue." One of the old farts stage whispers sounding positively scandalized and it revs him up even further. As he feels the King starting to retreat he jumps forward, wrapping their body around the King's like a limpet.

Cheoljong's eyes sparks to life the new position placing them eye to eye, panting softly onto each other. The air between them is charged and thick like a bowl of porridge. 

"Your highness, I agree you mustn't do this." Court lady Choi pleads with her, averting her eyes away from the tangled couple. 

He looks over Cheoljong's wide shoulders to see the Royal court affronted and wide eyed and Court Lady Choi with a similar expression, Hong Yeon is trying desperately to smother her smile as she averts her eyes. Sending her a secret wink, he pulls the King's head forward staring hungrily at his lips.

"I cannot resist, seeing him awakens such deep passion inside of me. Just one?"

He looks at her dazed, as if he's forgotten everyone surrounding them.

"Just...one?" He questions, confusion morphing into sudden realization as he watches them slide their tongue across plush lips.

"Oh."

Ignoring the cacophony of voices around them, he closes the miniscule space between them puckering up and kissing the soft skin of the King's cheek. Cheoljong tries blindly to catch her lips when they retract but he places a slim finger on his pursed lips.

Shaking their head lightly, he starts to slide down the King's hard body feeling the tight muscles even through the layers of fabric.

"We must save the rest for later, my heart. Come and visit us soon." He rubs at his stomach fondly, staring up into Cheoljong’s red face, he looks good enough to eat.

Wait what. Who thought that? No, it's the baby talking I'm just hungry, that's enough of a show.

Bowing deeply at the men, he steps around the King who is still frozen in his spot. Gathering himself he turns to the royal court with an innocent smile, "I apologize, I could not control myself. I will take a long walk to reflect on my behavior."

They collectively stare at her with gaped mouths as she walks off regally, shoulders straight as if nothing happened. After a few steps he turns around, calling over their shoulder, "Don't keep me waiting!" And then to add the proverbial cherry on top, he curls their finger before letting out a roar to which everyone jumps looking bewildered, except the King whose eyes could pierce a hole through their face.

He looks like a starved man. Maybe they should make him some more ramyeon?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

To say he's flustered is a bit of an understatement considered the problem in his pants. Logically he understands the Queen's actions earlier, she'd merely been doing what they had both agreed to feigning affection to dissolve those erroneous rumors that were circulating the kingdom. But he would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this immensely.

His Queen was an enigma he had even up on fully understanding, instead choosing to accept her and all that came with her. And her feelings for him were part of his confusion, she seemed to fluctuate between her emotions without rhyme or reason. He never knew which version of her he would be receiving at any given moment. So having her acting the way he'd only imagined in his dreams was both satisfying and unsettling.

It would be most difficult to go back to their normal, he wanted her in his arms always. Desperately yearned for intimacy that didn't dissipate when the sun peeked over the horizon.

Pushing his work to the side of the table he sighs leaning back into his seat thinking about his Queen.

"Why must she be so confusing?" He groans to myself thinking about their first night together, how passionate she'd been his ears burn remembering the sharp pain of her teeth sinking it. He had bite marks in... interesting places from that heated encounter but her behavior after had been consistent only in it's in inconsistency.

Running away from him, even going as far as hiding. Then just as suddenly she stopped avoiding him and they settled into comfortable nights together. However, they hadn't been intimate since despite his many efforts, he just wanted a kiss those plush pink lips were so tempting and today they'd been so very close. He needed that kiss like he needed air, he didn't care who was around. If she had kissed him he wouldn't have controlled himself, he would have hungrily devoured.

"Your majesty it is getting late, we must leave now if you wish to see the Queen." The head eunuch interrupts his inklings, bowing low in respect.

Is he ready for this? His control feels paper thin at the moment. But he did promise and they have an image to uphold.

Gathering his strength he rises, "Alright, let us take over leave. I shouldn't keep my Queen waiting."

The walk to Daejeon Hall is short but it feels like he's traversing miles, despite his previous concerns he is now eager to see the Queen. Her face is gorgeous at all hours but there's something about her face lit with candlelight, knowing he's the only one who is allowed to see her at such hours.

Accelerating his feet, he almost races to her ignoring cries from the head eunuch in the distance. Every second not spent in her company is a second wasted.

The Queen's Court lady announces his arrival before they all bow walking backwards out of the room before sliding the doors shut.

"You took your sweet time, I told you not to keep me waiting." She glares at him, pouting slightly bringing all his attention to her mouth.

"I apologize my Queen there were pressing matters to deal with." He lies easily no attention of clarifying his meaning, she doesn't need to know that dousing his arousal was the pressing matter at hand.

"Whatever. What's more important than me?" She scoffs looking offended turning away from him.

He lowers down into a crouch, crawling across the room until they are side by side. The Queen gasps at his unexpected closeness, staring at him with wide eyes and open lips.

Grasping at her hands he stares deeply into her gorgeous eyes solemnly with no humor in his voice, "Nothing. You are most important to me, both of you." Reverently he reaches out a hand to palm at her still small belly, impatient to see her round with his seed.

Her face slowly softens as he rubs her stomach and then she places her hand atop his, no longer resistant to these fleeting moments of intimacy.

Instinctively he starts to lean forward, laser focus on her lips as he inches closer to her. When he's close enough to breath into her mouth she snaps from her haze, moving back marginally he almost growls at her he's so frustrated, he's barely able to swallow the sound.

"What are you doing? There's no one to put on a show for."

He peers at her searching her face, her pupils are dilated and he can feel how fast she's breathing each puff landing on his face, her expression near identical to their last night together. But she's stopping him. Even though she clearly desires this too.

He thinks back to her behavior earlier too, she was brazen then comfortable climbing him in front of so many others all in the name of squashing the rumors.

She needs an excuse to do this.

He should feel offended by this epiphany but instead it brings him resolve, she clearly still hasn't fully let him into her heart but she feels something for him she's more than proven that to him. If she needs to draw a line to be with him then so be it for now, he will prove himself to her everyday.

"There are several court maids and servants outside your room, they are pretending they are not listening but they are. Sometimes your imagination can be even more powerful than reality."

She looks towards the door, eying the shadows through the thin covering before turning back to him and nodding in understanding.

"Okay. Let's give them a show."

Without warning she knocks a marble vase to the ground, the loud crash filling the room as it makes contact with the floor.

Then she moans. Loudly. A suggestive gasping moan that goes straight to his chest before zinging lower, tucking at his loins.

She pushes him when he sits silently merely staring at her, "You need to play along too. Come on, get into it."

There's it is again. That damn phrase.

Get into it.

If only she knew how into it he truly was. Grabbing at her ankle and tucking her underneath him, he slams his arms on either side of her head before groaning deeply, "My Queen, please."

Pride explodes in his chest when he sees a deep blush glide across her face. Not unaffected.

"Am I getting into it enough for you now?" He whispers darkly, itching to lower his weight and kiss that delicious look off her face.

Surprisingly she stutters out, "Ye-a-ah. You seem very into it now, nobody can see us though. We don't need to be like this." She motions between their bodies, unable to meet his gaze now. She motions between their bodies, unable to meet his gaze now. She's right but he also knows that he can't miss this chance, he has her right where he wants her and besides squirming distractedly she hasn't shown any desire for him to move away.

"Do you want me to stop?" When she doesn't immediately answer he begins to move backward giving her space but she latches onto his forearm, tight.

"Wait! Maybe we should commit even if they can't see us, it'll help us play our roles better." She reasons and he smiles, razor sharp. She wants this just as badly as he does, he's studied her long enough to read between these lines.

Swiftly he rolls them over so she's on top, pressed together from shoulders to feet her long braid swinging over and brushing against his cheek. Gently wrapping it around his hand he uses it to bring her closer, her breath hitches seductively and he whispers, "Louder. So they can hear you." Without waiting for a reply he tugs at her hair again harder this time and the sound that escapes her lips is orgasmic, a high whining moan that sets his skin on fire. Emboldened and aroused he grabs her neck, speaking into her opened mouth "Do you like that my Queen?" Her eyes are glazed over as she sways as if intoxicated by him.

"Cheoljong, kiss me."

It's too quiet for anyone's ears but his and that makes him even hotter, this wasn't part of the show. This was just for him, just for them.

Always one to seize the moment, he yanks her down to meet his eagerly waiting mouth swallowing the moan that rolls off her tongue. The kiss escalates immediately with both twisting and licking, wet sucking noises soaking the room as they bring apart to gasp for air and crash back together, chaotically and perfectly. When he feels a wondering hand graze his groin he can't resist the urge to thrust up into her touch. Wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her even closer, although there is no space between them.

When he pulls back, her eyes remain close as she licks her lips as if chasing his taste on them. His cock jumps jealously.

"I want you." He admits, wanting to make it clear if his intentions are not already crystalline to her. He wants no room for misunderstandings tonight.

She stares wordlessly before reaching across his body and then he sees the oil in her hand, he hadn't noticed its presence next to them but he eagerly takes it from her.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Don't go soft on me now, bring back the guy who was pulling my hair. Do you want me to call you Daddy too?"

His breath hitches at the word, he doesn't understand why but hearing her makes something dark coil in his belly. She lifts an eyebrow at his heavy silence, "You're so kinky."

He stares confused again, nothing new to him but he stores the word away for further inspection of its meaning. "Is kin-ky bad?" He asks reaching down to lower his pants and cover himself in the thick oil coating each inch of the hard pole.

She doesn't answer right away, avidly watching him stroke himself to fullness before rubbing at the bulbous deep scarlet head, serving to make him almost painfully turned on. "No, kinky is good. I like kinky." She tugs her skirt up and his eyes bulge when instead of seeing the various layers he should see there is only bare skin.

Had he been seduced? It feels as if he has been but he doesn't care enough to question her or pause this for a second. He would happily be her fool.

Gripping at her hips he rubs against her, groaning when her wetness smears across him obscenely. She grinds down onto him meeting him head on, they are definitely on the same page now.

Unable to wait for even another second, he envelopes her in his arms before sliding into her smoothly her natural moisture and the oil easing the way until he is completely encased. She moans long and wailing as he slides to the hilt, he groans loudly joining her as she scratches roughly down his back even through the sturdy material he can feel the burn. Absently he considers gentling his moves, she is pregnant and more fragile after all. But she must read his face and be vehemently against his plan because suddenly she rises up, slipping off his hardness before slamming back down the loud smacking of skin filling the room.

"It's time for the main event. Don’t stop now.” She challenges him, squeezing around his erection. 

Pushing his reservations to the side, he gets into it full heartedly thrusting hard before capturing her mouth in a harsh kiss, hissing when he feels her teeth tug roughly at his bottom lip, his lioness has returned. He teasingly roars into her mouth and she laughs around his tongue, breaking free only to latch on his neck sucking hard. He hopes it leaves a mark.

Her laughter causes her to tighten around him and he groans at her vice like grip on his cock, he can feel himself nearing the end. Recalling their first night he suddenly grabs her neck, squeezing lightly and when she whines in a broken gasp he tightens his hand and delights as she melts slowly limp in his hold, he supports her weight easily bucking into her tight heat. When he thrusts up a second time he feels her wetness gush around him before he loses himself, his climax tensing his body as he slowly falls apart.

The entire kingdom will surely be in an uproar tomorrow.

He's looking forward to it. That will teach them to spread rumors about their intimate affairs. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In the hallway, Hong Yeon brings her hands to her hot cheeks feeling overheated from the King and Queen's boisterous gathering. Every court maid is blushing as they look discretely at the door with every moan and groan that escapes. She hopes this will qualm the rumors in the kingdom, she cannot take this for much longer. Court lady Choi had left to retrieve water after their first moans and had yet to return, she surmised if the Queen were not already with child she would have been impregnated again going by the sounds they were making. It was all too obvious to her, despite the Queen's strange behavior at times, they were desperately in love with each other. She'd never seen two people who were more crafted for the other.

Anyone who thought otherwise was a fool. 

[aceofspadegrass]

Imagine Dori going out to play a game,and after he plays the game..he wouldn't just go straight back to the beach,No!. He would steal the car from Niragi and just drives back to his house,going inside his house grabbing fanta and drives back to the beach with fanta,introducing fanta to hatter and we all know that hatter would accept him.

And then bring fanta back to his and Niragis room,breaking the door at the process to just go inside the room. Noragi utterly goes up to him,yelling at him..but when he sees fanta right next to Dori's leg..he's like" Aight,I'mma steal your dog" And just grabs fanta,and the next Niragi would force hatter to let fanta become a militant dog so that he could give fanta a rifle and a Fedora hat..which fanta will not like if the Fedora hat is given by Niragi-

How about dori giving fanta a Fedora hat?,fanta will love it and sleep with for the rest of his life. Niragi giving fanta a squeaky toy that is basically shaped like a rifle

Fanta is a Good Doggo

Characters: Niragi Suguru, Last Boss, Hatter, Dori Sakurada, Aguni, Cabot

Genre: Niragi get’s to meet Fanta! And maybe shoot a dude dead, but shush.

3k words

This was fun to write. Also, I only have a very vague idea of Fanta’s gender (Trust me, I still don’t know if I’m correct) so if I’m wrong, sorry about that. All I have figured out of Fanta’s gender is based on the underside of this very nice Fanta picture.

When games meant people were going to die in front of everyone lucky enough to stay, within the vicinity of where others shared the same space, not everyone dealt with them well. Some broke a little more each time, some powered through, some even enjoyed it. Either way, everyone earned their right to live in some aspect or another. They fought to keep breathing for another day or two, and came back to their base to eventually do it all over again.

And some, by the sheer power of something refusing to let them hit the dirt and breathe their final breath, just meanders through the games as if it were nothing more than a very realistic fiction.

That’s what was happening, at least in front of Niragi’s eyes. He readjusts the thick black bomber jacket that Sakurada gave him, stained with thick blood, hidden within the darkness. Said man that gave him the jacket was talking to another, who seemed oddly excited to see the man, even though his near carbon copy version was right there within view. Perhaps there was something less wanted in him that Sakurada had. A prettier smile, maybe. Or a nicer demeanour that people preferred to stick closer to. Too afraid to come closer to him.

They were correct to be afraid. Being afraid meant Niragi didn’t have to be seen as weak. But the few that weren’t, respected him. They held themselves at the same level, and Niragi at least gave them the respect if they deserved it.

Begrudgingly, it somewhat extended to his doppelgänger as well. Sakurada never exhibited a single hint of fear towards him, and even willingly attacked him with that darn water sprayer that he kept with him the entire time.

“ Oi! Are we leaving yet or not?” Niragi calls out to the man as he finally bids the other person adieu, Sakurada coming over to him with a kind smile.

“ Hey, can I ask you for a favour?” Sakurada asks, Niragi scowling a little. “ Hah? What for? Can’t you ask me later?” Sakurada smiles at him, and offers zero explanation, other than a simple request to head back himself, as he needed the car to do something. Which, granted, the Beach wasn’t that far from where the game arena was, maybe an extra fifteen minute walk on foot added on to the time it would’ve taken if they took the car, but Niragi still didn’t like how Sakurada thought he’d be okay with it.

But Sakurada was already in the car and driving away by the time Niragi noticed the bastard even left his side with that request, Niragi yelling after the retreating vehicle.

“ Hey!  Hey! You asshole, get back here!” Niragi chases the car for a couple more meters, but the car is much too quick for him to chase by foot, disappearing into the night. Niragi lets out a yell, eyes burning with fury and foot stomping against the ground. “ Fuck!” A presence next to him makes itself known, clearing their throat. “ Hey uh…. Did our ride just up and leave us?” 

Niragi whips around, blood still boiling, staring at a nobody Beach member, who looked far too innocent and naive to realize that Niragi was simply not in the mood for small talk. Next to them was a blank-faced Last Boss, who Niragi briefly forgot was even with them, the rest having perished within the game. That didn’t matter anyways, Niragi needed something to let his feelings out, and he whips his beloved gun from his shoulder and jabs it in the direction of the nobody, who yelps and backs up in fear. Delicious, raw fear, the person staring at Niragi with pleading in their eyes, even if it too dark to properly make out what they held. The wide eyes, the trembling bones, the bobbing Adam’s apple, that was enough.

“Oh, so you can see. Whoop de fucking do.” Niragi snarks, the person holding their hands up in the air, eyes flickering between the cold barrel against their chest and the burning eyes of Niragi. “ Yes our ride fucking up and left. I don’t know what he was thinking, but we’re gonna have to walk back.” “ H-How far is the Beach?” Came their shaky voice, and Niragi stares in the general direction of where they came from, muttering to himself as he forced his brain to work outside the blaze within his bone. 

“ Longer than what I should have to deal with.” Niragi answers, and takes the gun back as he starts walking back to where the Beach should be. The sound of feet against the ground follow him, and the idiot asked way too many questions for Niragi to care about comes too close to his side, staring at him nervously.

“ You seem mad. Was it because of the guy that took the car? I’m sure there was a perfectly good reason for that guy to take the car! Even if it was a little weird he forgot us. It’s a good night for a walk anyways! Lucky it wasn’t a Spades game, otherwise-“ “ Oh my goodness, do you never shut up!?” Niragi looks at them, and in a fit of impulsive irritation he swings his gun against their skull, a crack resounding in the cold empty night, their body hitting the ground with a thud. “ Asking question after question, do you not see I don’t wanna deal with another gosh darn annoyance?! You know what, I’m already pissed, I need to do something. Lucky you.” His lip pulled up into a sarcastic sneer, full of disgust. “ I need a good stress reliever.” He aims the rifle at the fallen body, the person screaming and scrambling backwards.

“ W-Wait!? No, wait, I’m sorry, please don’t-“ Their words were cut off as Niragi pulls the trigger, shots ringing in the air and blood painting the ground. Niragi doesn’t stop until he feels his tense energy get pulled into each and every bullet, when he finally becomes satisfied as the body is nothing more than bloody cheese.

Niragi scoffs, and spits on the body to rub it in, the final piece of the puzzle. He holds his rifle down by his side and stumbles into the night, the sound of footsteps decreased by two.

Three minutes later, and Niragi needed to rant, his mouth opening and spilling his slight  against Sakurada to his only audience. Last Boss says nothing in return, but Niragi didn’t need any words spoken back. He appreciated that, not needing any more of a reason to get annoyed. They return to the Beach within a fair amount of time, nobody truly questioning where the others were or where their car even was, other than a few talking amongst each other. One less  drinking buddy here, one less of a good time there. Niragi ignores it all and heads straight to Hatter’s, Last Boss behind him the entire time.

He opens the door, Hatter greeting them, Cabot sitting on his lap and wearing Hatter’s sunglasses, the cat comfortable. Niragi walks in and slaps the card on the table, huffing. “ There. Your stupid card.” “ Thank you Niragi!” Hatter chirps, and he looks over Niragi’s shoulder, likely at Last Boss. “ And you as well for letting me watch over your cat! She is such a wonderful buddy for a rousing conversation over the legalities of dolphins!” Niragi never hears a response, nor does he even stay long enough, already leaving the moment he was able to. He heads back to his room to sleep the rest of the night off, too mentally exhausted to really want to deal with anyone else at the moment.

Least of all Sakurada, when he would inevitably come back.

————��————————————————————————————

The sun had not risen yet when the door slams open, hitting the wall rather violently. Niragi is startled awake, and he rubs his eyes and turns to the source of the noise, Sakurada standing there with the hallway lights still on and illuminating him. Niragi’s mood sours the moment he lays eyes on him, and he gets out of bed and storms over to him, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt.” You little bitch! You left me there at the game and made us walk! What fucking gives!?” Sakurada holds his hands up, one gently tapping the grip that had his shirt. He smiles back, opening his mouth to explain. Niragi at least gave him that, one step away from going to grab his gun and give Sakurada a new hole to breathe out of.

“ It was super important that I took the car, since it was a little far and I needed to carry things! Besides, I didn’t want to disturb you guys and cause too much of a scene-“ “ Leaving us there caused enough of a scene, asswipe-“ Niragi shakes the man, Dori wiggling but maintaining his stance. “ Yes, but-“ Sakurada starts up again, and Niragi was near about to punch the pretty asshole when he felt something step on his foot, and the soft sound of sniffing made him look down, thinking it was Cabot for a second. Instead, a small fluffy dog stood there, brown in colour and very cute. Niragi lets go, the dog looking up at Niragi and barking at him. 

“ Is that a dog.” Niragi lets the sentence tumble from his lips, Sakurada eagerly nodding. He  kneels down, petting the pooch. The dog’s tail wags happily.

“ Yes! Niragi, meet Fanta! He’s my dog!” He announces, continuing to stroke the dog. Niragi nods as he too kneeled down, and he holds a hand out to Fanta, who sniffs at his fingers before giving them a greeting lick.

“… I love your dog. Fanta, you said?” Sakurada nods, smiling. “ Cool. I’m going to steal your dog now. Night bitch.” He scoops the dog up and carries Fanta to bed, crawling back underneath the covers and setting the dog on top, Fanta barking and investigating the sheets. Niragi’s gun was still tucked in bed with him, but Niragi wasn’t dumb enough to leave the safety off. He even made sure to put a little cap over the trigger to even prevent it being moved.

He wasn’t a Diamonds for nothing.

Sakurada say nothing, but Niragi does hear him laugh a little, and bid him a goodnight as well. Fanta barks in his ear, Niragi gently shutting the dog’s mouth shut.

“ Goodnight, dog. Go to sleep.” Niragi mutters, Fanta whining a little and wiggling out his touch. At the very least he settles down, Niragi huffing inaudibly and falling back asleep, a warm weight remaining nearby him.

Morning comes too soon, and Niragi wakes up to Fanta still besides him, sleeping peacefully. He smiles to himself, already getting an idea, and he picks up the dog, Fanta waking up with a confused yelp from being picked up so suddenly, Niragi carrying the dog right out of the room. He makes sure not to wake up Sakurada as he heads down to Hatter’s room, throwing open the door and slamming on the lights. “ Hey! You! Wake up you slutty flamingo!” Niragi shouts, waking up the leader of the entire Beach. His hair was a bit of a mess, Hatter grumbling and combing his hair with his fingers. “ Ah? Niragi?” Hatter blinks a few times, and comes over the moment he saw Fanta in Niragi’s arms. “ Oh my goodness you brought me a new friend! Hello you glorious being!” Hatter pets Fanta with the enthusiasm of an old man greeting a grandchild, Fanta barking and wagging his tail happily.

“ This is Fanta. Can I make him a militant dog.” “ Hm? Why?” Hatter asks offhandedly, attention fully on Fanta.

“ Because I want to make him a militant dog, and I want to give Fanta a miniature rifle. And a fedora, obviously. Because he deserves one. So do I.” Niragi tells him. Hatter waves him off, still petting Fanta like he was the greatest thing since rubber ducks.

“ I can get that arranged!” Niragi grins to himself, pleased, and Hatter finally looks up at Niragi. “ I’ll get Aguni to get that all arranged for you!” “ Aw fuck yeah.” Niragi mutters, and Hatter continues to pet Fanta for a couple more minutes before he finally had his fill. With a wave from Hatter, Niragi finally leaves. He sets Fanta down, done with carrying the rather large dog, and heads back to his room, Fanta marching alongside him. Niragi smiles down at the dog, internally vibrating with joy.

“ Oh, this’ll be great.”

—————————————————————————————————

Later that day, Aguni comes over to Niragi’s room, looking at the still opened door, which had a rather decent sized crack running through it. He doesn’t mention a word as he comes over to Niragi, setting a small dog sized rifle and two hats on the bed, one much smaller than the other.

“ There.” That was all he said, and after a brief petting of the fluffy dog, he leaves them alone, Niragi grinning excitedly and putting his new fedora back on. Fanta barks at him, tail wagging. Niragi picks up the smaller hat, and he attempts to lower it onto Fanta’s head.

This doesn’t go well, Fanta barking again and running off. Niragi gasps, offended, and gets up to chase him around the room. Fanta was a crafty little dog though, managing to evade Niragi in every turn. 

“ Get back here you ungrateful little-“ Niragi begins to shout at the dog, but he’s stopped when he feels cold, familiar mist on his face, Niragi stopping in his tracks. “ Ah! Sakurada, what the hell!”

“ Don’t be mean to Fanta! Also, where did you get that?” Sakurada plucks the fedora off of Niragi’s head, Niragi becoming offended again in the past ten minutes as Sakurada opens the window and yeets it out the window as well. Sakurada spots the tiny dog rifle on the bed, and he gasps as well, picking it up and turning around to look at Niragi like a disappointed mother.

“ Are you trying to turn my child into a murderer! Shame on you, Niragi, you should know better!”  Sakurada reprimands, crossing his arms. “ You’re not my mom!” Niragi retorts. “ And come on, Fanta deserves a gun! And a hat!” Sakurada sighs, and simply sets the rifle down on the bed and kneels down, calling his dog over, Fanta happily padding over to him. Sakurada pets Fanta with a smile, then looks to Niragi, the latter still clutching the smaller doggy hat. “ May I see that, please?” Sakurada holds his hand out, Niragi continuing to stare at him. He finally concedes, and he comes over, handing over the hat. “ Fanta didn’t want it though.” Niragi dejectedly mutters with a bit of irritation, but Sakurada only chuckles a little and looks down at Fanta, holding the hat up to the dog’s nose. Fanta sniffs at it a few times, tail wagging. Sakurada looks up at Niragi one more time, Niragi looking down at him in pure confusion, then sheer indignation as Sakurada easily slides the fedora on Fanta’s head. “ There! Easy as that!” “ But- Hey, that’s cheating, how’d you do that!” Sakurada merely shrugs, petting Fanta a little more and standing up. “ I guess Fanta didn’t want you putting it on? Fanta is a very smart dog after all!” Niragi only huffs, crossing his arms and shaking his head at Fanta, who happily lays down on the floor. “ You little prick…..”

Still, that doesn’t stop Niragi from bringing Fanta with him later on patrol, the dog eager for a walk. People cooed at the cute dog, Niragi glaring at a few too dared get too close for comfort. He had to keep up his persona after all, even with the addition of a rather cute dog by his side.

He meets up with Last Boss again by the end of it, Cabot meowing at Niragi the moment he arrives. Fanta barks upon seeing the feline, Cabot tucking herself away into Last Boss’ hood. Last Boss stares down at Fanta in silence, Niragi snorting. “ Your cat is a pussy.”

Last Boss looks at Niragi at that comment, slowly blinking. “ …. Yes? She’s a cat.”

“ Ugh, you made it boring. Never mind. But still! Say hello to Fanta! This is a new member to the militants!” Last Boss nods, and he looks down at Fanta, just staring at the dog. Fanta didn’t seem to mind, merely wagging that little tail.

“ Anyways, I’ll see you later! I need to go get something! If Aguni asks, I went to pamper the fuck out of Fanta. If Sakurada asks, tell him to fuck off. Okay bye!” He waves and walks away, Fanta obediently trailing along with him.

He hops into a car, Fanta in the passenger seat, and drives away, having only the vaguest of ideas where he was going.

Three hours later, he returns, Fanta happily squeaking a squeaky toy that very oddly resembles a small rifle. He opens the door, Fanta running over his lap and into the open area with the little gift in his little doggy mouth, Niragi following after. Once back into the building, it doesn’t take long before Niragi sees Sakurada coming towards him, a worried expression on his face. “ Oh, there you two are! I was worried when you suddenly disappeared, you know! Where did you go?” “ To get Fanta a gift, obviously! Look, isn’t he so happy!” He gestures down at Fanta, the dog squeaking the toy once more. Sakurada smiles, a certain concerned tightness at the edges.

“ Niragi, why did you give my dog a gun again.” “ Hey! A squeaky gun! Huge difference! Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Sakurada sighs, and he lightly shakes his head. “ Alright, but that’s it, okay?” 

“ Ugh, fiiiiiine. Fanta still goes on patrols with me though.” “ Yes, of course. Fanta deserves to go on walks.” Niragi fist pumps the air. “ Aw yeah. You’re the fucking best, you Dior mannequin. Come on Fanta, let’s go throw eggs at the bleached trash bin.” He runs off, Fanta barking and climbing Sakurada’s legs for a few pets from his owner before running off to join Niragi in his crime time.

Sakurada simply watches them go, with the slight hint of worry for his poor Fanta. The dog was a smart doggo though, so Sakurada trusted Fanta to hold his own against Niragi. Hopefully there wouldn’t be….. too much damage control he’d have to do later.

[andshesbarleybreathingg]

Dear Old Me,

There are for sure some things I liked about you but there are definitely more that I hate about you that I do not miss. We had a long time together, but I'm glad we separated. I am a much better person now and I refuse to ever go back to the old me.

Sometimes I feel sick and sad to think about the way that I used to be. The fact that I would be okay with sitting in my room for hours. I would waste my days laying in my bed because I thought that the days I had off from work or class would be best spent doing that. Sure, that's fine to do sometimes but I now know there is so much more out there.

I hate you, old me for convincing me that I was not enough. For telling me that I sucked at school, that my friends hated me, and that I wasn't nearly pretty or skinny enough. I hate you for the times I stood looking in the mirror actually crying because I hated the way I looked, but could not convince myself to gain enough confidence to go to the gym.

That's the thing I hate about you the most, Old Me the fact I could never ask for help for anything. Something as simple as raising my hand in class to ask the teacher a question and possibly looking dumb was traumatizing, so I just wouldn't do it. The days that I really need a friend's shoulder to cry on or a therapy session to just let it all out to a safe person, you would let me convince myself I didn't and that I would be lame and weak for reaching out to someone. The fact that I actually allowed you to convince me that I could replace the hurt I was feeling with some other type of pain and it would all just be okay. Wow, it's actually really sad to think about that now. Or how about the days that I would randomly get really upset because everything I had been bottling up finally couldn't be pushed down anymore. The hours I would spend fighting an anxiety attack, which usually resulted in me crying and forcing myself to sleep.

Well, guess what Old Me? I now can say I feel confident in my body, go to a therapy session every week, have an AMAZING group of friends that I can always count on and know that I'm just as good of a friend in return. I found the passion for work and writing again. Instead of laying in my room all day I now spend my days off surrounded by my friends and family that I love, spending time going hiking, taking pictures , sitting by the beach, reading, laying outside, whatever I feel like doing that day I allow myself to do. There is no reason for me to just lay in bed all day because thinking that because every other day I am forced to be surrounded by people it makes it okay. You tried for so long to take me down, and at some points you succeeded, but I refuse to ever go back to you, Old Me. I love the new me, someone who is so full of life energy, good intentions, and the desire to tackle the world. Someone who no longer feels alone because when I do, I ask for help. Nice try, Old Me but you'll never win again.

Sincerely,

The Best Version of Myself🤍

[sol1056]

Okay so i'm really confused. Who pitched the idea for the Voltron reboot? Did they write the original story or was that someone else? Who's writing the story now? Like i get that there is more than one person working on the story but like to take someone's vision of their story and to just throw it in the trash is just kinda fucked up ya know? I wouldn't want to work with a network if they're gonna screw over something I came up with.

It’s not a simple picture since there’s a lot of history. There’s three parts, behind the cut: who wrote the original story (vs the original-original), who pitched the idea for a voltron reboot, who’s writing the story now, and the issue of revisions. 

I must have at least three pages of asks that talk about Hedrick’s story and how the EPs butchered it… and I recently stumbled over something that made a few pieces click together. So, if you sent me an ask about Hedrick’s story and what he’d planned, you might want to read, ‘cause this answers a lot of your questions.

who created voltron

Back in the early 80s, the Koplar brothers purchased a license from Toei’s back catalog, and adapted/cut/rearranged the original GoLion into an American-only version called Voltron. GoLion hadn’t been much of a hit in Japan; it was kinda behind the curve. When the Koplars adapted it, Voltron was a huge enough hit in the US to warrant a second season, requiring new footage from scratch (mixed in with re-used stuff from the original season). 

The sequel (using a completely different anime from Toei’s back catalog) didn’t do anywhere as well. The planned third part was never made. Since then, there’s been reboots, comic books, idk what else. 

who pitched the idea

Long story short, Universal purchased a bundled archive of licenses. These are collected existing properties they could redevelop – anything from some no-name, one-season, failed cartoons to ones that were popular once and since forgotten. Voltron was one of those properties.

I doubt anyone pitched the idea, formally. More like, the execs saw Voltron in the pack and chose it for a reboot/remake. All they needed was staff to do it, so they interviewed potential showrunners. Around that time, JDS had pitched his idea for a Streetfighter cartoon. DW TV passed on JDS’ pitch, and instead offered him the position as EP of what would become the VLD reboot. 

(An aside: JDS and LM both talk up how much they loved Voltron as kids, but in early interviews they admit neither could remember for certain who Voltron’s ‘real’ leader was — Keith or Sven — all the way up to starting their interview with the execs.) 

who wrote the version we have now 

I’ve been operating under the assumption that as the story editor, Hedrick had a major influence on the story. I’ve also noted in several different posts that S1/S2 feels like a completely different story, in more ways than one:

As the story moved into the split-seasons, it’s clear that whomever lent that guiding hand in S1/S2 was no longer present. Someone else’s fingerprints are on S3, and my guess is it’s mostly Hedrick, at least on the script-level. The word choices change, the cadences change, the beats change. From S3 on, VLD has all the hallmarks of a muddy vision. 

A few days ago, I was researching for another ask and came across this:

On-screen, a “producer” credit for a TV series will generally be given to each member of the writing staff who made a demonstrable contribution to the final script. The actual producer of the show (in the traditional sense) is listed under the credit “produced by”.

According to IMDB, these are VLD’s  executive producers:

Joaquim Dos Santos  (63 episodes, 2016-2018)Lauren Montgomery (63 episodes, 2016-2018)Jae-Myung Yoo (24 episodes, 2016-2017)Robert Koplar (23 episodes, 2016-2017)Ted Koplar (23 episodes, 2016-2017)

We’ve been assuming Hedrick steered a large part of the story. If that were so, though, Hedrick should also have EP credits. He doesn’t. The Koplars have EP credit ‘cause they created the original Voltron. JDS and LM are on there, as showrunners. 

And then there’s this guy Jae-Myung Yoo. He’s done key animation, directing, and storyboards. He has a handful of executive producer credits, mostly for single episodes. Yoo left VLD in 2016, and joined Big Fish & Begonia as a co-producer. 

I think we just found the voice that steered the first two seasons, and whose departure left the story without a clear vision. 

Yoo doesn’t have any writing credentials, but his resume goes all the way back to Gargoyles in 1995. He doesn’t have to be a writer to be a storyteller, after all; there are different ways and methods of telling stories. My guess is Yoo’s a respected directorial voice around Studio Mir, understands how a story flows, and most importantly was probably a trusted voice after working with Ryu, JDS, and LM on AtLA and LoK. 

We’re left with one of two options: Hedrick stuck to the Yoo-created outline, rewriting and rearranging as the EPs shifted tracks, and the majority of the story’s direction since S2 has been from JDS and LM. Or Hedrick did have a substantial impact from S3 on, and JDS/LM refused to grant Hedrick the proper credit for that level of contribution.  

the issue of revisions

Television’s a wacky environment. It’s somewhere between collaboration and sheer hell, especially if you don’t come with major credentials (ie, your name is not Guillermo del Toro). 

Here’s how it starts: the showrunners, any other EPs, the writers, the senior writer/head editor/story editor (title depends on seniority), production assistants, writing assistants, and other producers will gather and brainstorm the story, and come up with a synopsis for the story’s outline. When the execs approve the synopsis (after probably a round or two of feedback), the expands the synopsis into a full outline of the entire story. 

The writers set about writing the script, which are sent to various execs for their feedback. The execs send their feedback — called ‘notes’ — to the showrunner. These are usually a jumble of responses (and a lot apparently tends to be personal taste, too), and also often contradictory. It’s the EP’s job to relay the exec response to the writers’ room, and make sure things get changed so the execs are happy. 

The EP (and the writers) must do a delicate balancing act, between budget, story, and sheer insanity like one exec demanding a scene be cut and another exec thinking the scene should not only stay, but be expanded. Or insisting on specific pairing endgames (or lack thereof). Or — as seems to have plagued VLD — saying the story is too dark and ‘needs more humor,’ which the EPs appear to have interpreted as ‘do more filler episodes that have no plot relevance.’ 

The first thing to remember is that most execs are not intentionally malicious. They will ask for too much, and they often have their own agendas, but their goal is a hit, not wasting a bazillion dollars for no gain. If you look at the credentials for decision-level execs at Dreamworks, every single one came up through the ranks: they’ve directed, produced, some were also animators, and at least one did either acting or voice acting. They’ve been doing this for awhile. My advice to any wannabe-EPs (or writers) would be that when an exec says, “kids are going to be bored stiff with this scene,” listen. I’m not saying automatically change it, just give it a fair listen. 

Collaboration is hard. It takes patience and good listening skills and empathy for the people on the other side of the table. It takes a willingness to bargain and enough strength to be vulnerable, and a whole lot of honesty about your own reasonings for wanting one thing or another. 

Stories created in the high-pressure hot-house environment of a collaborative group are a very different critter than one-author novels: no one person owns the story. Not everyone wants to sign up for sharing that creative process, and that’s fine, too. We do need books with good stories as much as we need shows and movies with good stories. 

Just color me seriously unimpressed when someone in a collaborative storytelling process constantly snarks about exec meddling. I have no sympathy: they signed up for this. If their creativity is so fragile it’s threatened by feedback, they need to find a different medium, ‘cause the collaborative world of television production is probably not the best fit.  

[hacked-by-jake]

*Ep 8 spoiler*

I'm sorry, but... no, in the final call, the man without a face threatens everyone still in the group chat except Jake (but he's not from Duskwood) and Dan. And he includes Hannah. I've listened to the call at least 10 times because I was afraid I was going crazy with how everyone is disagreeing about this call. I've transcribed the English version below. Someone posted a recording of the call on Tumblr (I forgot who, but you can look it up) and there are videos of people playing Duskwood ep. 8 on YouTube if you want to listen to it again.

"It wasn't enough for you that I killed the mechanic. It's over now, I will kill them all: Cleo, Thomas, Lilly, Jessy, and Hannah. Every single one of them! And you will watch. And in the end, I'll be coming for you."

I don't know if there's an inconsistancy between translations, but this is word-for-word the English version. There's just also a lot of heavy breathing. I did notice a glitch in ch. 8 where it said that I asked Richy about Jennifer Hanson when I actually asked Cleo, so an inconsistancy between translations is possible. I doubt it, though.

Everbyte is VERY intentional about their decisions. Jake was probably excluded because he's not from Duskwood and he probably has no idea how to find Jake. Dan was probably exluded (and I swear that he WAS excluded) because... the Man Without a Face is Dan. Also, the Man Without a Face is pissed right now, and I'm no expert in crime or anything, but wouldn't you think that's when a killer is most likely to mess up? Like... giving himself away by threatening everyone but himself in the group?

Yes, I get loving hoodies, and I get that other characters (Jake and Richy) have been shown to wear hoodies. But Dan updated his profile picture this episode and he just so happens to be wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, just like the Man Without a Face is during the call?

The Man Without a Face just so happens to know to check the creepy candle room and the 2nd floor instead of investigating the entire 1st floor? (Keep in mind that Richy is no longer in the group chat.)

Someone also pointed out before that Dan rejects the call if you have Thomas look for Richy. They suspected that Dan answering would reveal that he is not in the hospital.

When's the last time anyone checked on Dan in the hospital?

Also, Dan tells Lilly in a private chat that he is sure that the body (aka Amy's body) is not Hannah's. Looking back after ep. 8, that seems suspicious to me...

Before ep. 8, I fully suspected Richy, but now, I have no doubt in my mind that it's Dan.

Episode 8 Spoiler!

-The call from the Man Without a Face in episode 8 is at the end of the post. It's the German version since there are still so many uncertain what the MWAF says. (The names ultimately remain the same..)

Okay, I listened to the call in the English version, ( Here -@iamjungshook127 )

I recorded the German version and I’ll post it here. In the English version I clearly understand 'and Dan'

In the German version, however, it is much easier to understand. Since the original voices are also German, I suspect that the translation simply took a little too long to enumerate the names. The calls are supposed to have the same speed and the same length (I think). Well, here we are, he says dan but doesn’t mention hannah.

I think the mistake that we should have asked Richy just didn’t fit on the story, so we just have to pretend that we chose Richy. I myself was also confused, already in episode 7 since I also asked Jessy about Jennifer. But I think we can see past that.

So to the candle room: This is called the wall of death of murderers/ kidnappers etc. Or roll of honour of murderers /kidnappers.

So if I was the man without a face, that would also be the first place I would look because that’s the most important one he has. There is everything he needs and what is important for him.

I find it strange that he did not want to look further down but went straight up but did you see the house? This looks like it’s breaking into each other every second, so you could probably hear very well if there’s someone on the top floor. For example, the steps of Jessy, the movement of objects.

As I said, that Dan did not answer the call of Thomas, I find it also weird and also I find it weird that no one has visited him for a long time to see how he is. Or in our case, if he’s still there.

Dan heard Phil talking to the nurse, but he was hiding. Maybe the nurse Phil also had to say that Dan is no longer there (I can’t remember exactly the expiry but maybe Phil wanted to call us because of that) Dan finds out that Phil knows he’s not in the hospital anymore, and he’s afraid that Jessy’s brother might tell someone. So Dan sends the police and silences Phil.

And now that you mentioned Amy’s body, I also have to say that I find it very strange that Dan was so sure. He doesn’t seem like the type who is so desperately trying to make someone feel good/ calm someone. But I don’t know much about Dan and Lilly’s friendship either, maybe they’re best friends. But maybe Dan isn’t as cold as he plays that he is, I think he really wants to reassure his friends.

I have to admit very honestly that Dan sus is, I agree with everyone, yet I am still unsure, but I agree with everyone. I mean, in ep 7 we have all been sure it’s Richy and now Dan. That it can turn again, I just reckon it. But yes, unfortunately Dan seems very sus.

I hope the recording of the conversation now helps a bit and brings in more clarity. Because I’m 1000 percent sure he’s saying Dan, and I think you’re going to hear it now. Thank you very much for your time and effort for the theory. I find your thoughts very interesting and as I said I have to agree with you.

[existentialstatesofmind]

Opening Up

Clare: had read stories about the Japanese mafia claiming to be humanitarian groups that keep order in Japan. “I’m sure most of it is made up. But the mob knows how to fake running legitimate enterprises. They have office buildings, business cards, the whole works. It would be easy to get in over your head! Now I want to borrow a manga about that.” She laughed. “I guess that means boys aren’t allowed to take home ec at all? According to the paperwork Simpson handed out, it’s compulsory for girls.” She already had a feeling sexism and gender roles would need to be the topic of one of her articles. “How embarrassing. Don’t worry, I won’t take it personally and make Nastsumi feel worse.” Clare smiled at the thought of being ‘average’. “In that case, I’ll wait for Japan to buy new pants so they’ll be the right length for once.” She nodded. “I’m in no hurry and I can come back if you want me to since Emi has plans.” Clare offered. They were only going to spend a couple of hours at the mall. She kissed him again and again with more passion even though she wasn’t trying to change his mind. Soon as he stopped, Clare let go of him and blushed. “I wasn’t offering to buy lingerie. Just satin cami and shorts sets.” She expected him to sneak into her room for cuddles and making out. Nothing more. Clare smirked at Kota as she got into his car. “Why would I freak out? I didn’t even know who Yohio was. Still don’t really…” She trailed off uncertainly. Clare could’ve found out anything she wanted to know about him online but she didn’t feel comfortable violating his privacy. “Can’t be a model. A designer? Maybe an actress...West Drive’s studio isn’t far from here.” She guessed. Clare knew Murder Bunny was popular locally and in Japan, but she had no idea anyone famous would make a special trip to pick up dresses from Kota. When he helped her out and mentioned it again, she giggled. “I’m not going to embarrass you.” She still wasn’t taking his ‘warning’ seriously. So Clare had to bit down on her lip to suppress a scream when she saw who was waiting for him. She saw a picture on Instagram yesterday of Melanie Martinez’s latest split-dyed hair color, blue on the right side of her head and black on the left. The girl hugging Kota looked identical to the singer, she had the nose ring, tattoos, dark lipstick everything. Clare stared at the older girl as much as she could without breaking her promise. It couldn’t really be THE Melanie Martinez? Kota never let on he was on a first name basis with a big star. Not a single hint all the times they’d listened to her music. What if she’d said not today when he suggested giving her tour?! Clare knew what an endorsement from Melanie meant for MB and she didn’t want to act like a crazy fan so she only smiled at Melanie when he introduced them. “Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I relate to your songs so much, and I love the fairy tale elements like the big bad wolf being a metaphor for something much darker.”

Kota: looked at Clare when she mentioned the manga. "I can see if I can find some for you. I mainly read manga on an app called Manga Meow and most of them were recommended to me. Others just seemed interesting. Just watch what you ready because some are more twisted than others. I do read some dark and twisted ones, but there have been some that were too dark for me to read." he explained and looked at her. "No, but that's mainly our fault. We were invited to join in home ec when the calligraphy teacher was absent, but it didn't go too well. Tanakashi-san ate most of the batter Nakashimi was working on, some boys left in the middle saying it was boring. A few of the boys just slept allowing the girls to make the cookies from them and in the middle of the class Kodomo-san's oven caught fire so we were kicked out for our own good and we're not allowed. I wasn't able to go to the class since the teacher didn't know English and I didn't know Japanese at the time." he chuckled and smiled at her. "Thank you. Tanakashi-san accidentally sets off her anxiety, but at the same time he's helping her with it. They're dating and since they've started dating, she no longer locks herself in lockers and has become more outspoken." he assured. "But there are still some things she's afraid to say. She'll keep it in till the very end, yell it out, then bow as an apology for being loud." he laughed a bit and squeezed her hand when she mentioned buying pants in Japan. "The girls don't wear pants in Japan like ever. There are pants in some styles such as Visual Kei for girls." he laughed. "Sorry I imagined you in the pants and dressed in the Visual Kei style. Visual Kei style is their version of Goth only more dramatic in some aspects or like our Punk rock clothing. All black with chains and bondage belts on the pants, but not too many girls wear the pants even dressed in Visual Kei, they prefer skirts. Other than that your only option is skirts. In the winter girls wear cotton leggings with fleece on the inside." he explained. "I mean I did do an online poll to see how many girls would wear pants in Japan and only like 3 said they would out of millions of girls that took the poll so I'm not making MB pants for girls in Japan, but in some comments they said only Yankee's would wear pants. Yankee is an insult to a Japanese woman, but they'd call you a Yankee because you are, it's basically a term for people who live on this side of the country." he explained and smiled as she spoke. "Ok good because I plan on sneaking in your room once Emi goes to sleep. Also no one knows I'm a virgin in Japan, it's kind of like here. If people found out I'm a virgin I'd have girls offer to sleep with me and guys try to help get me laid. Not too many guys are virgins in Japan after 14 and if you are it's considered an anomaly." he explained. "Girls are the same in some aspects. Most girls lose their virginity at 15 and those that don't lie about it most of the time." he shrugged. "Girls and guys are on a similar level in that aspect." he added. When Clare spoke to Melanie, Kota suppressed a laugh and turned his head to the side away from Clare for a moment. "I'm happy to hear that, Kota did tell me you're a fan." she said and shook Clare's hand before moving beside Kota as they started walking. "So I made the dress with the shoes in mind." he said as she took the shoe box out of the bag and handed him the bag, then the lid holding the shoes in hand. "I love them." she smiled and hugged him again before walking again. "I figured you might." he chuckled. "Did you get a call from Johnny Depp yet?" Mel asked looking up at him. "Why would I get a call from Johnny Depp?" he asked curiously. "Because Johnny Depp was on Jimmy Falon and Jimmy asked for his most memorable fan experience. He told the story of how he met you and your cousin in the UK and how he lectured you both on the plane and called your parents." Melanie laughed. "Mel, that's not funny. To this day I'm still forbidden to get a debit card and I have to show my mom the inside of my wallet when I get home to prove I don't have an obscene amount of cash and it's the same with my brothers now. They kind of hate both of us for it." he explained. "Or they could be mad you came up with the idea first. Besides how does a child obtain enough money to afford two tickets to the UK, a nice hotel room, and food for the two weeks you were there?" she asked. "I cleaned out my bank account. And we would've stayed longer if Johnny didn't ask us about our parents. They didn't even realize we were missing either. Genre was staying at a friend's house and my twin was pretending to be me every now and then." he explained. "Well, he knows your full name since Jimmy saw the picture and said 'Oh that's Dakota Anderson he's the head of Murder Bunny.' and showed off a pair of MB socks he was wearing on his show saying how much he loves them. He also told everyone how he owns an MB jacket too. He has the black varsity one." she explained. "I should get my assistant to find his number and call him asking if he wants me to personalize it for him." he muttered. "Do it! He'll freak out you so need to do it while I'm here and on speaker phone." she exclaimed as they got to his office. "Later?" he asked. "Ok, do you want to go bowling after?" she asked. "I wouldn't mind, but Clare's going to the mall with her friend at some point today." he explained as he got her dresses. "You didn't tell me this on the phone." she said. "You asked if I'm free." he trailed. "Can Kota and I pick you up from the mall then?" Mel asked looking at Clare.