#he deeply enjoys terrifying the assholes of this universe

[phantoms-world-and-more]

Danny is the supernatural IRS

So after danny gets crowned ghost king, it's his responsibility to sort out all the paperwork, complaints, renovations and basicly get the infinite realms back on track

It was going smoothly until he sees afew things suspicious in this one universe...

Theirs someone named Constantine who hands his soul out like candy,

Someone called Klarion keeps messing with the natural balance of his universe while simultaneously stealing artefacts

Something called the Justice Leagues Dark are in illegal possession and use of artefacts and cursed objects

Theres something called a Lazarus pit thats been used for illegal resurrection by Re al ghul

Theres a zombie-ghost baby named jason todd who's been left unsupervised and put in dangerous situations

...yeah...dannys about to go nuts on this universe

Hello misplaced aggression my old friend

[thunderheadfred]

🤚Shigaraki HC's🤚

Part 1 of my Shigaraki Thesis HCs. The Second Worst: 1 - 2

This was rough because even though Shigaraki is one of my favorite characters of all time, I have nothing sexy to say about him canonically.

that's a lie, i'm lying. i had to break this post into parts, that's how much of a liar liar pants on fire i am

Warnings for quite possibly everything. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

Okay first of all:

You know it. I know it. We all know it. This man is not boyfriend material. He disintegrates boyfriend material for fun.

You don’t want to date this man.

Frankly, you can’t date this man.

Seriously. Run.

If you’re a villain, you’re his underling. Maybe, if you squint, you’re kind of like his... um... least-hated workplace associate. What do you want, a trophy?

If you’re a hero, good luck not dying horribly. Maybe you’d make a cute hostage. Hope you can escape cuz he is NOT letting you out alive.

If you’re a civilian, perhaps that’s the best case scenario. He stalks you a little before he becomes infamous. You go on the worst date of your life but luckily you don't tell him where you live. Later you see him on the news standing in a pile of rubble and you just think, “ohhhhhhh.”

If he somehow, impossibly, against all odds, manages to develop a single affectionate feeling toward you, AFO is going to hunt you down for sport. You are NOT getting in the way of world domination. Again, good luck with that.

If somehow you managed to clear all those hurdles and kiss Shigaraki Tomura square on the lips, I can see one of two things happening.

1) You’re his body pillow now. Goodbye sunlight. You live in his room. He doesn’t have to chain you to the bed, because you know escape is pointless. Congratulations, the end is nigh.

2) Total mind break. At the first sign of genuine human affection, his trauma vault is instantly unlocked. Memories come rushing in, his quirk goes nuts. There’s like a 99.9% chance he’ll accidentally kill you and it will destroy his soul forever. But let’s say you’re the lucky 0.01% - then it’s time to fuck off together to a foreign country. He’s terrified, traumatized, and possibly broken beyond repair, but I guess he’s not a villain anymore? Have fun nursing him back to... semi-sanity.

Moral of the story: you’re better off getting hit with a quirk that takes you to an alternate universe where the worst thing Shimura Tenko ever did was throw a Playstation controller at his sister’s head. He’s an aspiring video game journalist with zero charisma and severe self-image issues. He has no earthly idea how hot he is. Please, for the love of God, fall for that guy instead.

haha just kidding

join me in hell, fellow Shigaraki fuckers:

- - - - -

Scenario the first:

so apparently you enjoy living in a cage?

Listen. He does not smell right. He doesn’t need to bathe much because his skin is constantly annihilating itself. So he’s not exactly dirty, but every instinct in your body is screaming in confusion, unsure if he’s alive or dead.

Breath of the damned. Sweet as moldy lemons. Whatever he eats just... rots. He doesn't produce enough spit.

He will kiss you very deeply. Until you choke. Forget the cold, chapped lips because they're the least of your problems. He's got those skeleton hands caging your face and you're trapped against a wall and his gigantic biting teeth are prying you open. He licks inside your mouth like he's trying to steal your soul. He'll probably succeed.

His hair is exactly as soft as it looks. Too bad you'll never get to touch it.

He’s either got no sexual impulses at all and will laugh at you for trying, or he’s a full-on incel. I don’t know which one. I don’t want to find out. Apparently you do, and I salute your resolve.

You will be lucky if Shigaraki treats you like a pet. He loves his Nintendo DS more than you.

Consent is not applicable. You showed interest in him once, now you're his plaything forever. There's a power imbalance between you so wide you could chuck a planet in there.

Safewords? lol

Doesn't want to break you, because what would be the point? He's already broken enough things. He wants to keep you around for a good long while. He'll take good, good care of you.

Unless you disobey.

Obsessed with making you cum whether you want to or not. Yes, this IS a high score thing. It's just so flattering. Say hello, orgasm torture. Was that another one? Aww. You barely moved. Oh, what's that? You're begging him to stop? Haha. He won't.

Don't cry. He'll drink your tears.

He'll touch you everywhere with bare fingers. Slow, feather-light strokes, like some kind of demented ASMR artist. This is not a trust exercise. He knows exactly how much it terrifies you.

Oh yeah. You're getting finger FUCKED. Do you fantasize about having a loaded gun shoved inside you? Same difference.

Will eat you out like nothing else, but not in bed. That's the kind of shit he does on a boardroom table where anybody could walk in and see you writhing. Spreads you WIDE open and sucks on you. Makes out with your asshole. The whole nine yards. It's wet and loud and nasty.

Only time you're out of his sight (and not locked in your room) is when he shoves a remote control vibrator where the sun doesn't shine. Operates it through an app while he calls you and jerks off. Wants to make your knees fail on a crowded train.

Come here. You get to sit on his lap like a dog. Four fingers on your throat, dick hard under your ass. He'll dry hump you in front of God, the Devil, and everyone else.

If he's playing video games, you're cock-warming. He does not care which hole. He won't even look at you.

He might get hard but he does not get naked. You do not know Shigaraki Tomura on a personal level. You have only the vaguest idea what his dick looks like. It feels long and thin, almost sharp. Maybe he's actually been fucking you with an ice pick this whole time. His hip bones dig into you and bruise. He likes to kiss and bite the marks he leaves.

He mocks you for being so fucking pathetic. Have you always been a such a needy slut or is he really that special? What is wrong with you? Even he thinks you're crazy.

Shigaraki won't kill you, but All For One will.

- - - - -

The Second Worst Scenario:

The half-mad ghost of Shimura Tenko is in love with you, and your life is about to become a tragic wreck.

(this half of the post went completely off the rails and turned into like... a whole-ass Victorian Novel)

[eventidespirits]

Adam Allistair Freemont

Aliases: Edwin Lockhart, William Silva, Francis LaRue, Everett Brighton, James Fenwick

Apparent Age: "29"

Birthday: August 11th, 1897

Death Day: December 19th, 1926

Species: Vampire (Siren Bloodline)/Bloodbound Spirit

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: Primarily Heterosexual

Occupation: Photographer

Residence: Santa Marta, California; Morgan Kendrick's Psychic Realm

Universe: Primarily original lore but also Vampire the Masquerade where he's a Camarilla Toreador who defected to the Sabbat.

Appearance:

Height: 6'0

Build: Tall and lanky with angular shoulders and long limbs. He has a trim, lightly muscled physique with long delicate fingers and soft hands.

Eye Color: Luminous Yellow/Gold with slitted cat-like pupils and a darker, amber band around the edges.

Hair Color/Texture: Black, 1b hair texture. Just long enough for the ends to brush against his shoulders. Partially brushed back and parted to the right but a significant amount of his hair ends up falling into his face.

Face: Angular with a square jaw and high cheekbones. He has a mostly straight nose with a slight convex curve to the bridge. He has deep set eyes with heavy lids and dark circles and usually looks somewhat sleepy but in a strangely sensual way. Defined lips that are usually curved into a sadistic little smirk. He's quite attractive but in a way that feels vaguely dangerous or even predatory.

Distinguishing Characteristics: Adam has bright golden eyes with slitted cat-like pupils. He also has a rather large, jagged scar on his back, located between his shoulder blades. I'd include his *other* distinguishing characteristic but that's kinda NSFW ;)

Posture/Body Language: Confident, even arrogant, chin up, shoulders back but not in a way that looks particularly stiff. His body language is generally relaxed and easy, bringing to mind a big cat at rest -- there's always something about the way he moves that implies a predatory nature laying beneath his cool, collected surface. Adam walks with clear purpose and long, smooth strides and always knows how to make an entrance.

Voice: Soft and smooth with a deep timbre and confident inflection. Adam's voice is somewhat like poisoned honey or arsenic laced velvet -- smooth and sweet but with something slightly off.

Clothing Style: Adam prefers dark colors -- burgundy, blood red, black, charcoal, rich deep browns and the ocassional pop of gold or cream or a white dress shirt. He wears primarily expensive, tailored button downs made from things like silk, velvet or very high thread count cotton with the sleeves rolled up and the top three (or four) buttons undone. Sometimes with brocade, floral or striped patterns. If it's cooler out, he'll wear a black blazer or something similar. When it comes to pants, it's almost entirely black or charcoal tailored pants or pitch black jeans. He usually wears very few accessories -- a nice watch, a belt, a silver and garnet ring and a pendant on a thin silver or gold chain. Generally wearing pointed toe oxfords or other dress shoes. When it comes to outerwear, Adam generally prefers things like wool coats and the ocassional leather jacket (always real leather, too) (to get a better idea, check out his [Pinterest Board]

Skills

Social: Manipulation, Lying, Gaslighting, Flirting, Proper Etiquette, Public Speaking, Blame Shifting, Negging, Seduction

Physical: knife combat, some hand to hand combat, basic combat training (circa 1914), long range firearms/sniping, Ballroom Dancing, Fencing, Horseback riding, the carnal arts

Talents: Photography, Drawing, Poetry, Lying, Being an Asshole, Manipulation, Painting, Seduction, Sex

Knowledges: Fluent in French & Italian, Masters in Psychology (circa 1926), Photo Development (wet plate, autochrome, modern methods), some basic knowledge of financial law and property law

Hobbies: Photography, writing, breaking pretty girls, avoiding his deep-seated psychological issues, general hedonism

Special: Emotional Influence, Telepathy, Emotional Transference, Enhanced Stamina, Enhanced Strength, "Immortality", Enhanced Senses (esp sight), minor regeneration, sweet blood, emotional radar/supernatural empathy, hypnosis/mind control

Psyche

Strengths: Charismatic, quick-thinking, clever, good at understanding the thought processes of others, empathetic, deeply romantic, treats service workers well, dedicated, generally calm, high emotional intelligence, has critical thinking skills, polite*, can be incredibly sweet, adaptable, pays a lot of attention to his partners in bed, passionate, artistic, creative, protective

Weaknesses: selfish, self-absorbed, arrogant, manipulative, almost completley lacks compassion, disdain for basically everyone around him, dishonest, has a horrible temper, needs constant attention and praise, has a massive inferiority/superiority complex, overconfident, easily susceptible to flattery, deep-seated intimacy issues, can't stand being wrong, terrified of vulnerability, paranoid, detached from his own emotions/denies his own humanity, callous, sadistic, can be incredibly rude, actually a bit of a coward, condescending, possessive, jealous and generally kind of a dick.

Fears: genuine intimacy, abandonment/loneliness,true death, being buried alive

Goals: To finally create the perfect art piece (i.e., break someone in just the right way -- he's not even sure what this MEANS, he's just sure he'll "know" when he finally does it), to just enjoy his immortality.

Personality: On the surface, Adam seems likable enough -- at least, at first. He's incredibly charming and thoughtful, often anticipating people's wants before they're even able to articulate them, witty, intelligent and seemingly very polite...

But beneath that surface lurks a spoiled rich kid who learned early on in life that having money, being good looking and charming meant he could get away with almost anything. Adam is self-absorbed and arrogant and almost everything he does is a carefully crafted performance intended to get people on his side and manipulate them into doing what he wants.

Beneath even that, which he desperately tries to ignore, is a little boy who was spoiled by his mother and entirely ignored by his (largely absent) father -- a young man who was traumatized by being forced to fight in WWI and who is full of deep-seated fears and insecurities.

To make up for this, Adam is often sadistic towards the people around him -- but in that way where it's difficult to tell that he's actually being cruel until one looks back at the conversation.

He has difficulty genuinely connecting to others because of those insecurities and instead uses his powers as a Siren to make the people around him love and adore him-- no matter how badly he treats them.

Life

Best Memory: Being gifted his first camera, meeting his Maker.

Worst Memory: Somewhere between when he almost died during WWI and his actual death...

Biggest Achievement: Getting his Masters

Prized Possession: Silver and Garnet ring gifted to him by his Maker, his first camera, his black 2020 Ferrari Portofino (with the red leather interior), (he also has an engraved custom sniper rifle but a friend picked the model and shit for me and I cannot remember what it is for the life of me)

Favorite Color: Red, Gold

Favorite Food:

-Mortal Food: Partial to anything rich and flavorful, prefers food that's not pointlessly ostentatious (nothing coated in gold leaf, that's absurd), dry red wines, Italian Cream Cake, Eggs Benedict, Crepes Suzette

-Blood: Blood taken in the heat of the throes of passion from someone that's truly and deeply in love with and obsessed with him...

Favorite Scents: Blood, Gasoline, Cloves, Cinnamon, Resin, YSL Nuit, roses, vanilla, rain, the sharp smell of a cloudless winter night

Favorite Songs: Winter, 1st Movement - Vivaldi, Raindrops - Chopin, La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf

Can't Leave Home Without: At least one knife somewhere on his person.

Birthplace: San Francisco, California

Childhood: Adam is the only child out of six in his family to survive to adulthood with four older siblings who had either in infancy, had been stillborn or died of tuberculosis when Adam was still too young to remember them. He had one younger sibling, a sister named Mary who was killed in an accident at the age of 6 when Adam was 8 years old. His parents were already a little bit older by the time he was born and his father was the owner of an incredibly lucrative railroad line and had profited greatly from the Gold Rush as well as owning multiple properties in San Francisco and neighboring Santa Marta...

Due to the loss of her other children, Adam's mother doted on him -- giving into his every whim, supplying him with the best education she could and basically just spoiling the ever loving fuck out of him. His father, on the other hand, was always busy with work and when he was home, had nothing but criticism for Adam who desperately tried to gain his approval to no avail.

Adolescence: Adam developed a passion for photography as a teenager and discovered that being good-looking, clever and rich meant he could get away with A LOT more than most people and also meant that he rarely heard "no" and accepted it as an answer even less often (though he rarely resorted to force to get his way, relying instead on bribery, flattery, blackmail and implied threats). All of this gave him quite an interest in psychology and he intended to become a clinical psychologist. During his adolescence, Adam would have a great many girlfriends and despite being a selfish and manipulative little shit, was actually not the world's worst boyfriend and no hint of the violent temper and genuine sadism he'd develop after being Changed.

Adulthood: Adam's education would be interrupted by the outbreak of WWI,which if asked he will describe as "incredibly distasteful and personally inconvenient." He was a skilled marksman and sniper but was otherwise unremarkable -- much to his father's disdain. After nearly dying in one of the trenches of France after taking a grievous bayonet wound in the last few months of the war, Adam would be sent back from the frontlines and would shortly begin work on continuing his education...

However -- despite the fact that he would complete all seven years necessary to get his degree, Adam's interest in becoming an actual psychologist wouldn't ever come to fruition. In 1925, he would meet Amelia Madeleine Smith -- an unbelievably beautiful and charming socialite from Santa Marta who would see Adam's potential as a source of money and influence for the Nightingale Court of Northern California. She would spend the next year carefully grooming him to become her protege -- manipulating him much in the same way he would later manipulate the women he dates as a vampire -- using emotional transference, mind control and mundane manipulation to cause him to fall madly in love with her... In December of 1925, Amelia would finally perform the ritual of transformation on him and bring Adam over into the world of the Supernatural.

Unfortunately for Adam, his Change would take nearly two weeks to complete -- two weeks spent in absolute agony beyond anything he'd experienced before. Amelia, believing the most important first step for a newly born vampire is to break their bonds to humanity would kidnap his mother during this change and leave her for him to kill upon waking. Adam would remain with Amelia (who used her bond as Adam's maker to control most of his actions and her abilities as a Siren to continue to influence his emotions) until 1980 when she was killed by a member of the Bram Park Wolf Pack in Santa Marta, leaving Adam behind. During this period, Adam would end up being "taken in" by a bonded pair of Stryza -- Camille Belikova and Lucy DeSantos and would act as their primary draw for new playthings.

Recent: Adam met Morgan Kendrick at the Velvet Box goth club in Santa Marta when Morgan was twenty two years old and would sweep her off her feet, intending to make her into his "masterpiece"... Three years into this relationship, Adam would finally Change Morgan, which would break the initial control he had over her and result in her, in a fit of rage, completely draining him and through a magical fluke, causing his spirit to become bonded/fused with her blood...

Recently, Adam's presence has disappeared from Morgan's psyche due to the machinations of Miss Belikova and her wife -- though it appears that the two of them are still inextricably linked in a way beyond the usual bond between Maker and Fledgling.

Relationships

Family: Lawrence Freemont (Father; Deceased), Anne Freemont (Mother; Deceased), Mary Freemont (Sister; Deceased)

Lovers: Amelia Smith (Maker; Deceased), Morgan Kendrick (Fledgling, Ex, Soulbond), Many other unnamed girls.

Friends: Camille Belikova, Lucille DeSantos, Jonathan Andreason

Enemies: Morgan Kendrick, the Bram Park Wolfpack

Acquaintances: Miranda Cortez (Queen of the Nightingale Court of Santa Marta)

Income: Moderately Wealthy

Vehicles: 2020 Ferrari Portofino

Residences: Penthouse Apartment in Vista Rosa, a small Victorian row house in Val Del Mar and a 1br/1ba apartment in Park Verde (all located in Santa Marta)

[izayoichan]

“Hey Vy, sorry for the wait!” “Hey. It's Okay. Ready to go?” “Yeah.” “Hey, lizard. Ready to go to RoM. I'm your chaperone today!”

Rylan feels sorry for Vy, wishing he had a way to give him some extra energy. Seeing him so constantly tired is something he doesn’t like, nor did Hayden as he knew from their talks. 

Chris watches them as he walks up to Hayden's bedroom to check if he needed or just wanted something. 

“I'll see you when you get home, just tell me if you need me or my husband to meet you.” “Yup, I'll go to work after school just a small solo shoot, so maybe one of you have to follow Vy home?” “I promised Rylan I'd go with him to the shoot…”

Rive looks almost apologetically at all of them

“I can come on my own I don't want to bother anyone ... “

Vy brushes his arms, fidgeting nervously, feeling bad over being such a burden for everyone. 

“Just watch over Hayden mister Chris. I'll walk on my own.” “If you can't I'll ask my uncle Simeon to keep you company.“ “Just call us when you are ready to go home Vy, either me or Hayle will come to meet you at the portal, I guess while in RoM he is pretty safe? Like we said before Vy, you are not a bother, and we are not risking you getting hurt or worse.”

Rylan watches Vy fidget, putting his arm around his shoulder. 

“I’m just hogging my boyfriend a little, sorry, you can borrow him next time okay?” “N-no! I'll be okay Rylan, I am not upset about that! He's just back and you finally get to be with him... I just... Mister Hayle or Mister Chris will wait for me. “

River looks at Chris. 

“He's mostly safe around RoM. There are these dickish young casters who like to mess with him every now and then... But he's not in serious danger I hope. And if they go too far I’ll be in RoM and scare them off.” “Just tell us when you're heading home Vy, and one of us will come to meet you.” 

River cackles darkly and the prospect of terrifying a couple of brats and walks to the door. Chris nodded and headed up the stairs to check on Hayden, who he guessed was sleeping, but he liked to check it regardless. 

“Let's go princess. I don't want either of you to get late.” “I'm sorry they are such assholes... Any way I can help... Maybe come pick you up and tell them off one day? You are my brother now, after all, I have the right to kick their butt!”

Vy looks at Rylan, surprised by what he said and smiles a little at Rylan. 

“Brother... “

Vy rubs his  arm, walking with a small smile

“It's okay Rylan. I don't want you to get into trouble. They're mostly annoying sometimes, it's okay.” “If you'd like, I can scare them. I'm good at that.”

River cackled and winked at them both, making Rylan lift an eyebrow once again. 

“Yep, your family, we seem to be the same age, so you're my brother, besides, my parents adopted you so.”

He smiles and ruffles Vy's hair slightly. Vy smiling and looks down. A brother he wasn't sure if he had any brothers, but he always wanted a brother

“Brother. You're my brother!” “Yep, and with that comes the right to mess with any bullies!”

Vy carefully hugs Rylan, always careful not to hurt Rylan as he has become a little privy of his weight and height, afraid to hurt him too. He steps back, brushing his arm

“And hmh depends on how you scare them I guess.”

He notices them coming up on the school, stopping when he notices a group of people waving, looking over at River and Vy.

“I can walk from here, and you two can head to RoM?” “Are you sure, princess. I can walk you all the way to school.” “Yes, I'm sure, it takes me less than five minutes to get there, and I see several in my class over there.”

He points towards the people waving at him and then turns back to River putting a hand on his cheek and caressing it. 

“Your princess is safe, take good care of Vy for me and I'll see you as soon as school is done?” “As soon as school is done. I'll be waiting here.”

he cups Rylan's face and kisses him deeply, just enjoying having him close, being able to do this again. He pulls back, a finger running down his cheek

“I love you Rylan. Go now princess, we don't want you to miss your pumpkin.” “School has become a pumpkin?”

He shakes his head and heads towards the others, already hating the idea of a school day between now and meeting him again.

“I'll see you both after school!”

He reaches the small group of people, turning one more time and waving at the two of them. River waving back, watching the little group until they are out of sight and with that safely at school. Letting go of a small sigh, he turns and looks at Vy

“Let's go Vy?” “Yes!”

Vy looks a little startled at River as the two of them make their way towards the portal and RoM

“When I was away... How was Rylan?” “I think hay hay is the best person to ask... But he wasn't okay... These last years were hard... For all of us.” “I see that…”

The two made their way to RoM, Vy heading to school while River went to his master, waiting for the day to be done, so he could go pick up Rylan at school, looking forward to seeing him work, a little more worried about what was waiting in that postbox. Rylan watches the clock as the school day goes by, like everything you wait for it felt like the clock had pretty much stopped. Eventually, though they are on the last lesson so he can head out soon. 

“Sooo walking you to school huh?" “Yeah”

He smiled at Lucas who was one of the people in their D&D group. 

“Nice, will he join us finally?” “I hope so, but it will probably be a while until the next time, a lot of stuff to handle.”

He smiled at Lucas, his brain going over everything they had in front of them. Like getting a shelter up and running, and of course, Hayden's health, the fact that he wanted to reconnect with River and the list just went on and on. River was walking the same path he did to leave Rylan at school. He had been working with his master on closing the portals, on their side, the god of that world had also been closing portals, but until they fixed the imbalance that was caused on this side, the thread between the two realities would be an easy one to breach. He had a feeling the solution was one none of the Wards wanted, not even Rylan. He stopped as he saw the school and waited, his thoughts on Rylan. How hurt and sad he looked, every trace of angst in his mind on his eyes. He wanted to do something to lighten Rylan's burden, but Rylan wasn't ready to open up yet. He had started working on getting him the crystals, the beautiful purple one and the green one but he was still short on it and he wanted to make it special. 

Rylan walks out of school alongside Lucas and some of the others, looking around for River, smiling when he sees them, and quickly says his goodbye to them, walking over to him.

“Vy already home I take it?” “Still at RoM. Faba wanted to see something with his powers. She wants to see if he is the same type of dragon as the one from the other universe.”

He smiles as he gets close and wraps his arms around River’s waist just hugging him tightly, what tells him, on the other hand, worries him slightly. This isn’t something Vy has mentioned to him

“School has honestly never felt this long!” “Yes, much too long, how was it?” “Boring...and well, what you just said, hat sounded awfully a lot like experimenting on him if you ask me... “ “That's because that's what they're doing -he confesses- They teach him, protect him and give him all the knowledge and in return he lets them study him. I have never been on one of the sessions, my master has little interest in dragons. But I have never seen them purposefully harm him.”

He clearly does not trust the sages much after what he had to deal with and River’s answer doesn’t help much on the fact that he feels them a horrible sort. Shaking his head slightly, he promised himself he would have a long talk with Vy later.

“Luckily this part of the day is proving much better already.”

He winks at him before he kisses him gently. 

“Still up for watching me doing some work?” “I miss school you know. And yes, I am ready to watch you work and glare at Carl!” “And I know you miss school, I miss you though, not school, luckily my parents forced me to keep going.” 

He takes River's hand and starts walking towards work, chuckling slightly at the comment about glaring at Carl. 

“Yes, you can glare at him all you want! Maybe he'll actually focus on his work for once.” “Let's hope he does. If he doesn't, I might chip a few inches of his iceberg.”

River chuckles putting his arm over Rylan's shoulder, following him, the walk between where Rylan goes to school and the place he works a fairly short one.

Beginning - Previous - Next 

[robinrunsfiction]

I’ve been binging good omens and now desperately need an angel reader/demon frank AU where it gets kinda angsty but ends w/ fluff (smut it you want).

Garden of Sin

Pairing: Demon!Frank Iero x Angel!Female ReaderRating: GeneralRequested By: AnonWord Count: 1,500Author’s Note: I am so sorry that this took forever. First I wanted to watch Good Omens so that I could be familiar with the universe, and I finally did that one day over the summer then… I don’t even know, I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy this, although it did not get smutty, I’m not sure the last time I even wrote smut!

New Jersey. The Garden State. Just like any other garden worth its salt, thisparticular geographic region was home to both an angel and a demon.

The angel, Robin, was a beautiful creature, as angels are prone to be, and although she had served the good people of New Jersey in many ways over the centuries, her current occupation was tending to a community garden, feeding families with fresh produce that most food pantries were unable to provide.

The demon, Frank, was better known for his more terrifying form, the Jersey Devil. When he wasn’t in that form, he was a charming, although quick tempered man who took pleasure leading those same good citizens into temptation. His other favorite pastime was trying to get the attention of Robin. She had spent centuries rebuking his advances, well aware of who he was, but he was undeterred, having all of eternity to try to win her over to his side he reasoned. This afternoon in her garden was no different.

“Good afternoon Miss Robin, angel of beauty and grace, bringer of harvests to themasses, object of my desires, stirrer of my-”

“What can I help you with Frank?” Robin interrupted him, annoyance writtenclearly on her face.

“I wanted to know if you’d accompany me to the hockey game tomorrow, it’s one of the last games of the season. They named the team after me, ya know?”

“Yes, you tell me every time, and yet I’ve never said yes.”

“Except for today?” He asked with a grin.

“No.”

Frank’s face fell immediately, but before he could respond, Robin began speaking again. 

“And if you think pulling any of those big bad Jersey Devil antics on me are going to change my mind, please remember that I am not a human teenager hanging out around a 7/11 that could be so easily persuaded to your demonic lifestyle. Because you see Frank, while I am incapable of hatred, I really do not like you!” She spat, anger flickering in her eyes before she regained her composure.

“Have your way, angel,” he smirked before turning to walk away. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw she had turned her attention back to her work, but when he looked again, she was looking at him. She narrowed her eyes at him and huffed before turning again to the plants in front of her.

“She likes me,” he grinned.

~

“Any luck today?”

Frank looked up and saw it was his friend Ray. Friend wouldn’t actually be thecorrect word for the relationship between the demon and the mortal, as friendstend to share basic information about themselves such as where they grew up and whether or not said location was actually hell. But they drank together and for this moment in time Ray was someone Frank could confide in, at least a little.

“No but I think she’s coming around. She used a whole new speech to tell me off, which means she was thinking about me, and then she looked back when Ileft.”

Ray looked at him skeptically before ordering a beer from the bartender. “Youreally just think she’s playing hard to get? I mean it’s been what, years?”

‘Centuries is more like it!’ Frank wanted to say but he didn’t feel like explaining everything to Ray right then. For now, he was happy with how things were between them. “Yea, but she’s gonna come around, I can feel it.”

“If she’s as much of a good girl as you say, maybe you’re just approaching this all wrong.”

“She’s not just good dude, she’s an angel, a literal angel,” Frank replied with asigh.

“Then maybe you just gotta be nice,” Ray suggested with a shrug.

After tipping back a few more drinks with Ray, Frank headed home. He deliberately took the long route that lead past Robin’s home, and her garden adjacent to it. That’s when he heard the voices. When he rounded the corner and stopped at the gate, he saw a few young teenage boys stomping on the freshly planted vegetation and throwing clumps of dirt at each other.

“Hey assholes, get out of there!” He shouted.

The teens looked at him and then back at each other. “Fuck off old man, don’ttell us what to do.”

Frank started to see red at their disrespect and knew what he had to do. He began to sprout bat-like wings and his feet turned into hooves. Their cocky laughter turned into frightened screams as the Jersey Devil charged at them.

As they fled the garden, Frank changed back into his human appearing form and felt eyes on him. He glanced over and saw Robin, practically glowing in her whitenightgown. She looked shocked, but not afraid.

Frank walked over to her slowly. “They were ruining your garden, I was justtrying to help,” Frank explained.

“I know, I saw the whole thing. I… I thought you would have joined in orsomething,” she replied. “Thank you, and I’m sorry for… a lot.”

“No worries angel,” he said with a soft smile. “If there’s one thing I enjoy, its terrifying punk ass teenagers.”

“Thank you again,” she smiled.

He nodded. “Goodnight Robin,” he said and continued back on his way home.

~

After rescuing her garden, Robin had become much more hospitable toward Frank. She smiled and waved at him when he walked by, and in return he stopped being a total jackass toward her when he would stop and talk to her. He even stopped asking her on dates, figuring that she would let him know when she wanted to go out.

“I was trying to tell ya man, I was trying to tell you this whole time that youwere going at this thing with Robin the wrong way!” Ray said emphaticallyover drinks a few weeks later.

“Maybe, I dunno,” Frank replied, rubbing his hand over his face.

Suddenly the TV switched from a bowling tournament to breaking news out of London. The entire M25 was on fire.

“Shit, its going down,” Frank muttered wide eyed. He got up in a rush, throwingdown more than enough money to cover both his and Ray’s drinks.

Ray looked from the TV to his friend. “Something going on?” Ray asked.

“No, roads burn all the time in England,” Frank said rolling his eyes.

“Oh,” Ray replied, not completely believing his friend. “We still going to thatDevils playoff game next week?”

“Sure, see you there,” Frank replied as he shook his head in annoyance beforerunning out of the bar.

He was fully aware of what was happening. He didn’t get down to hell too often,but he heard about what was happening with some ambassador’s kid in England and the end of days being nigh, but he was more of the believe it when I see itmentality. But now he was seeing and believing it and he wasn’t about to lethis time on earth end without seeing Robin one more time. He ran up to her frontdoor, banging hard, calling her name.

She pulled open the door suddenly. “You know what’s going on, right?“ Sheasked breathlessly.

“Yea and before this all gets fucked up, I have to tell you, I wasn’t kidding when Itold you you were beautiful and kind. I think I love you Robin, even though thisis all gonna end soon, I can’t go into this last battle without feeling yourlips against mine.”

Before Frank could realize what was happening, Robin had reached up and her soft fingers were tracing across his cheek, down to his neck and she was pulling him to her, her lips softer than anything Frank could imagine. He wrapped his arm around her waist holding the small of her back. She took a step back, but not to break the kiss, rather to pull him into her home. He kicked the door shut behind him and she guided them to the couch, lips still moving together expertly as she sank down, him holding himself over her.

When Robin finally broke the kiss, she looked at him with wide eyes. “I… didn’t know something so wrong could feel so right.”

“Then maybe it isn’t wrong angel,” Frank murmured.

Robin nodded. “Maybe it isn’t all as simple as good and evil, right and wrong. Maybe all we need is each other.”

“I’ll stay with you through the end,” Frank said stroking her hair. “The combined forces of heaven and hell can’t come between us now.”

~

Luckily for Frank and Robin, the combined forces of heaven and hell were quite distracted by another angel and demon who had taken matters regarding the apocalypse into their own hands and had caused a lot of problems for management on both sides. This distraction served them well as both Frankand Robin had very much fallen deeply in love with each other.

But she still would not accompany him to a hockey game.

[brolinjosh]

endgame review

i’ve waited 24 hours for my endgame feels to sink in. spoilers and strong opinions are under the cut.

first i need to start with the parts that i loved and that made the movie stand out and be memorable and parts that i immensely enjoyed:

- tony and nebula’s friendship and nebula’s arc later. she finally stopped being self destructive, lost the desire to please thanos and stood up for herself. she made a strong bond with gamora and even in the past, that bond stood out and it was beautiful. she got more screen time and stopped being just a weapon. got to play games, got to be appreciated for more than a good warrior. joked with people and made good friendships.

- tony telling steve off. tony stan here, but unbiased opinion is that him and steve had a falling out. steve stayed on earth and tony ended up stranded on an alien planet and nearly died. he is a non powered man and only had his armor and got stabbed by thanos and he has never felt more alone than when oxygen was slowly running out on him and nebula. he should have argued and called him out on them sticking together, and he had every right to do so.

- whole time travel thing. it was nostalgic, i am really glad they connected this, as last movie, to the previous ones. thor getting his moment with frigga, tony commenting on shape of steve’s ass, loki disappearing with tesseract, little things like that. they gave movie depth and not just thanos aftermath. 

- steve had some show stopping scenes. telling himself he could do this all day and being tired of himself bc he knows how big of a pain in the ass he can be in the battle?? hell yes thank you. steve wielding mjolnir?? legit had me cheering, wig snatched. 

- i genuinely liked thor’s arc. he lost everyone he had ever cared about, it was normal for him to be depressed and angry and that he had given up. i am glad rocket snapped him out of it because it gave rocket depth and we saw how deeply he connected to all of them and decided not to be an asshole and be kinder to people that surround him. it showed another part of them being a family and how even characters we never thought would love each other this way, ended up with an unbreakable bond that is more than just a team work.

- more screen time for underappreciated amazing characters, james rhodes, scott lang, clint barton. more of their interactions and showing how funny and smart they are??? they had my heart.

- i LOVED professor hulk. mark ruffalo finally got more screen time and it showed how smart bruce really is and that he is not just some likable guy who is intelligent, but not as much as other scientists (like scenes with shuri in infinity war that i loved because of shuri, but in past movies they downplayed his intellect a bit). i loved how he was more confident and at peace with himself.

- thanos!!! thanos remained a formidable villain and his arc was still the best villain arc in mcu. he is not easy to take on , he is a threat and he gave movie and everything that happened a meaning.

- best mcu scene to this day - strange opening portals and people passing through, ready to slay enemies. all united, all fighting together, all boosting and helping each other out in this final battle that we waited for 10 years??? literally killed every other movie battle ever. they have outdone themselves.

- peter seeing tony and talking about soul stone world, not realizing that everything was done for him and out of love for this amazing boy?? beautiful.

- TONY FUCKING STARK WIELDING INFINITY GAUNTLET. YES. had me yell at the screen, it was showstopping. my favorite scene ever in movie history. mere mortal taking on the fate of the world and killing every bad creature and smiting thanos himself. CONTENT I LIVE FOR.

- valkyrie a king??? hell yes, she deserved it. no one more than her. 

now, things that ruined the movie for me and that i do not think i will easily accept or forgive:

- i understand that in the end, since natasha and clint went to vormir, in the end had me desiring that she would be the one to give up, since he has a family. but it’s not supposed to be that way. natasha seemed out of character the whole time. she was way more emotional, i partially understand because she lost everything and it has affected her more than anything ever. but it was bad writing. woman dying for shock value and to effect men??? why. she just started expressing herself and letting know people she loves them and really connected and bonded with them and have her go like that? as a sacrifice? uncalled for.

- pepper’s arc bugged me the whole time. woman who was there from the beginning to call tony out on his shit, also was a woman who stopped him from doing reckless things. she was always the one who kept arguing with him, literally in every movie, over his desire to save the world and to protect them. he told her he found a way to bring everyone back, but one word from her (something she was terrific at), and he would ditch it and stay with their family. and this is the first time she encouraged him to do something so reckless and it was poor overshadowing of his death and insanely out of character for her. she knew how it would end and she kept saving him from himself, because he was always terrified of losing her and in a way that stopped him from doing what he did years ago. they had a family and in the end . her showing up in an armor had me in tears, because that’s my gal, but also that is incredibly reckless and like she didn’t think things through in 2-3 scenes she had in the movie?? 

- i’m in it for tony. naturally i am upset. but not because he died, but because of HOW he died. naturally gauntlet took a toil on him. his body was combusting. it was devastating. what killed me was that pepper, love of his life, approached him and seemed like she had kind of a bad day. asked for his vitals and when told he is dying, she shed a tear and told him that he could rest. it blew my mind that she did not crumble in front of him, no “ i love you” nothing that would be her last words to him that showed him that he meant the world. he knew that, but would have been nice to have something like that. ALSO, him not being able to speak??? BEYOND OUTRAGED. no actual goodbyes, no him saying anything to the avengers, just lying like he had a stroke. the best character with the most complicated arc in the entire marvel universe and did something unimaginable and to have him just fall and not say goodbye or how he feels, or is he afraid of dying or what is happening to him??? “ i am iron man” is a great line for taking on thanos, but as last words while he is alive, unsatisfying and writing for shock value. peter crying, hugging him, apologizing , that was beautiful. everyone who he had just given his life for just standing aside, looking at him, shedding one tear???? steve? STEVE ROGERS???? JAMES RHODES??? no goodbyes between best friends, no them being wrecked and having breakdowns??? really?

- steve’s ending. it was the most out of character thing russos have ever done. they became famous for taking on characters in their own ways, but steve, person who had such strong relationships with tony, bucky and sam, leaving bucky and sam for a selfish cause of going back in time to a woman who already had a fulfilling life and found a way to live without him?? who had a husband and family? who was accomplished and her heartbreak over losing steve gave her depth and she got out stronger than ever. and he just went back and her whole history and family was erased for it, because he loved her and they shared one kiss a lifetime ago? steve going back to do this and not free bucky from hydra or help his best friend out, a man who he started civil war over and fought government for, steve leaving bucky and sam, people who have been with him through thick and thin, going back to indulge himself, thinking he cannot be happy in present, not thinking about two people who have to now live on without him? bucky who never got a decent time with him after ca:tfa, who’s life has been nothing but a shitstorm, now having to live without his best friend and only person that felt like a home? insanity. steve rogers, the most self-sacrificial, stubborn little shit, who gave enemies hell for people he cared about, leaving people behind? never. 

in conclusion, for me movie did nothing but upset me, because i have invested 10 years into this, countless hours of writing meta and giffing scenes that went unnoticed, loving these characters, pouring my heart and soul and time into this, and for them to kill off people for shock value, natasha and tony, to have them fuck up steve’s arc beyond words, to end relationships or to make them meaningless.... they did pay an omage to previous movies, but not characters  and how they were previously portrayed. tony, man who started mcu, should not die for us to be miserable bastards after spending so much time in this universe, he should have gotten to live a happy life with the family he had just started. 

in the end, if anyone had to die, for me it was supposed to be both steve and tony, in a battle, bloody with glorious goodbyes, their last battle, showing each other how they would lay their lives so the other one lives, sacrificing for each other, but have both biggest characters die gloriously, not one like he had a stroke and second one grow old and selfish, abandoning his friends and family.

in the end, i did not like the movie. first marvel movie to this day that i didn’t like, because it was first that erased so many good things. 

[antonverloc]

💯💕💑💘

sex + romance headcanons || accepting!!

→  💯: WHAT IS YOUR MUSE’S IDEAL DATE?     it depends both on his mood and the point in the relationship he’s at with the person. regarding the first stipulation: if he’s in a particularly bad mood or particularly stressed with work (which is often on both accounts), he’ll be very difficult to convince to go on a date at all. work will always come first, and when he’s swamped or otherwise compromised (i.e. upset), he will not want to go out for anything, even if he’s thoroughly in love with his partner (which is unlikely in and of itself). on days like that, his ideal date would simply be spending time in comfortable silence with his partner while working: if they bring him coffee and just be with him without demanding conversation or attention, just hanging out with him (and not getting in his way) while he’s doing lab work or research or whatever else, he’ll be truly pleased. a symbiotic evening during which he can just have company without being expected to put work second would be the best possible date he could ask for. if he’s in a good mood and not overly busy with work, he’ll be more inclined to go out with his partner (or have a romantic night in). he’s rarely one to enjoy simple dates, in this case, like walks in the park or going to the pub - instead, he prefers to take his partner somewhere nice, like an upscale cafe or restaurant in the parade district (or a select few on st. george’s holm that are up to his standards).

     regarding the second stipulation, the type of date he prefers largely depends on where he’s at in his relationship with the person (all of these depend on the relationship being a relatively serious one, as he’s otherwise relatively uninterested in dates with a partner). for example, if it’s early in the relationship, anton is more inclined to take them somewhere extravagant in order to charm, manipulate, and impress them. if they’re already very close and he feels he’s already done so adequately, he feels less of a need to (although he often still will, as he likes to spoil his partners). instead, he’s more inclined towards the aforementioned type of date (simply enjoying their company) - although if he’s in a good mood, this doesn’t always mean comfortable silence. these dates can also be simply unwinding in the living room-type area of his “lair” with a glass of wine and whining about today’s most incompetent idiot or other, lighthearted and therapeutic topics of interest. conversely, instead of very frequent, extravagant dates, verloc will switch to more personal ways to go overboard. like, for example, making (read: having someone else cook it and passing it off as having been made by him) them a romantic, candlelit dinner.

     dates with verloc can be few and far between given that he prioritizes work over most everything else, but they’re not unimportant to him. he values his partner, and his wealthy upbringing left him with the belief that pampering them (usually with gifts or nice dinners and the like) is the proper way to show them that. he’s also a very, very lonely man in many ways, and as such, they’re also important to him individually - he needs the company of someone he feels close with sometimes, whether he’ll admit it or not. additionally, manipulation is something he falls to often, and he finds that taking his partner on lavish dates is a good way to keep them placated despite his often erratic and abusive behaviour. which, yes, is also abusive. 

→  💕: WOULD MY MUSE EVER BE IN A POLYAMOROUS RELATIONSHIP?     short answer: no. long answer: in a hypocritical and self-serving way, yes. anton verloc simply cannot share. he’s jealous, possessive, and controlling - partially because that’s simply his nature, and partially because on some level, he’s absolutely terrified of losing his partner to someone else. if he were in a polyamorous relationship, he would ultimately be incapable of trusting his partner: he’d fear that they loved the other person more, fear that they don’t love him, fear that they’d leave him for them. moreover, he’d go into a jealous rage in all of three seconds, mostly because he has… issues with seeing people as his property when he loves them. which, naturally, is very problematic: he thinks he should have the right to make his partner’s decisions and choose who they can see. not actively - he doesn’t recognize that he thinks this way, and i could go on about why this is the case for hours, but that’s not really the topic. the point is, he could not handle it emotionally, and wouldn’t want to.

     even so, he wouldn’t be against having multiple partners, bringing us to the aforementioned hypocrisy. he would never cheat on a partner and would always be sure that they were alright with it first, but assuming they were and he did have an interest in someone else at the time, he would be perfectly willing to have a polyamorous relationship. but if either (or any) of his partners wanted to be with others themselves, he would never be alright with it (with the exception of very, very rare circumstances). unfair and unreasonable, i know. fortunately, at the very least, if a partner told him “no, i’m NOT comfortable with you having multiple partners”, he would be understanding and respectful of that.

→💑: WHAT ARE MY MUSE’S REQUIREMENTS FOR A POTENTIAL PARTNER?     there are both many and very few all at once, which i realize makes very little sense. to elaborate: anton could, potentially, find a wide variety of partners appealing, as his requirements don’t necessarily limit him to a certain type of person, which i imagine is what this question partially means (”what’s his type”). that said, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a lot of requirements.

     first of all, intelligence. this is a deal-breaker. anton cannot and will not be in nor want a relationship with someone he finds intellectually dull. it’s not stimulating, it’s not interesting, and in all likelihood, he’ll just find them abundantly irritating. there are no exceptions or stipulations here.

     second of all, honesty. this is more important after sally than before sally (the two universally accepted eras of time, A.S. and B.S.), as he’s terrified of being manipulated after his relationship with her whereas before, he was certain of his ability to be the one doing the manipulating instead. as such, after she left him, it became infinitely more important to him that he was sure he could trust his partner. liars, manipulators, people like him - he’s notably less inclined to be with them than he would someone straightforward and blunt.

     next, he needs someone who, to some extent, can understand him. he’s a complicated man who can very easily be viewed as nothing but a villain, and he can’t be in a relationship with someone who can’t see that that isn’t all he is. he doesn’t need them to agree with his views or actions, but he needs them not to demonize him for them and to at least understand where he’s coming from.

     he also prefers partners who he can understand. he has great difficulty understanding overly emotional individuals, and when a person frequently favours emotion over logic, he grows frustrated both by his inability to relate and his inability to understand why they’re thinking how they are. and if he gets constantly frustrated, that relationship is destined for failure. we’ve all seen anton verloc frustrated. he doesn’t need his partner to think exactly like he does, but he needs common ground.

→💘: WHAT ARE THE WAYS MY MUSE SAYS “I LOVE YOU” WITHOUT ACTUALLY SAYING IT?     these nonverbal methods are pretty much the only ways he says that, actually. those three words very rarely leave his mouth, as they openly and undeniably put him in a place of vulnerability. that said, that means there are many (often subtle) ways in which he says it without saying it. 

     talking to them about his work without prompting is one of them. it means he expects them to understand, subsequently showing that he respects them - and that he cares about their opinion enough to share his full thoughts with them. 

     there are small actions, additionally, that say “i love you” simply because he wouldn’t do them for anyone else. they can be easily dismissed, though, because a normal person might do them for anyone. for example, if an average human being made you a cup of tea without prompting, you might write it off as them being polite and hospitable. if anton verloc makes you a cup of tea without prompting, that means that he actively thought about another human being’s preferences and desires when he would normally only have considered his own, and that’s quite something. there are some circumstances in which he would do this to be hospitable (only when manipulating/charming others, really), but if he’s his normal asshole self and he makes you tea (or something of the like: alcoholic beverages, food, coffee, etc.), that means something. 

     if he lets himself be vulnerable around them, that’s a solid “i love you” right there. aftercare after sex? not something he allows. but if he lets a partner take care of him afterwards, that’s an “i love you”. if he lets them do something like give him a massage when he’s openly stressed/in pain, that is too – bonus points if he actually asks for one. emotional vulnerability, too; if he opens up about something he’s feeling, that’s yet another thing he wouldn’t do with someone he didn’t care deeply for.

     little things like generally taking care of his partner are also important. making sure they’re eating and sleeping well, bringing them gifts, worrying about them in any capacity - all of those small things mean that he actively thought of them and their wellbeing without prompting, and valued those concerns enough to act on them.

     finally, actually wanting their company is another way he shows his love. verloc just doesn’t like people as a general rule, finding himself superior to them and as such, finding them irritating. so when he actually seeks out a person to spend his VERY VALUABLE TIME with, that means he thinks notably higher of them than almost anyone else. 

[clevernewdimension]

Polaris Part Nine

Parts: Preview, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten (Coming soon!)

Genre: Action, drama, romance, sci-fi, etc.

Paring: Jongin x Character

Word count: 7.1K

A/N: After a long time, and update! Please enjoy the part and feel free to message me your feels!

Minjung felt her heart race as she walked. Everyone around her running towards ships and fighters for the incoming attack while she seemed eerily calm in the middle of it all. She wasn’t, though. Her vision getting blurry as she blinked, noticing she was crying. Fear. A feeling that could cripple her. For so long she worked to have the power and respect so that people feared her, not the other way around. She hated being afraid. Minjung grew up being afraid for hours, like her brothers. One wrong answer meant a beating. One hair out of place meant she was locked in a room for who knows how long. No food. No water. No light. That wasn’t even the worst of it. She knew that Minseok and Jongin got punished the worst. Minseok, because he was supposed to be the heir, and Jongin, because he was to be trained to be a weapon that felt no pain. The faint scars on their body a testament to that. The branding burned into their flesh all the proof needed. It was funny, how their father shows his favoritism. Part of her envied her brothers, because she wanted to be the one their father felt proud of. It wasn’t all she envied about them. They were braver than she ever could be. She would rather be a coward and be intelligent than a brave idiot. Fear is a feeling she hates. It makes her weak. It forces mistakes from her.

So, because of that, Minjung surrounds herself with power, keeping people weak beneath her as she did what had to be done for her mission. She hungers for power like nothing else. Desperate for her father’s approval. The only weapon he has left after the other four abandoned them. The best one, he tells her. She was a glittering gem while her brothers were shattered glass of what could have been. The only loyal one. The strongest one. The smartest one.

Or so she thought. Being moved around like a doll by Jongin made her feel uneasy for the first time in her life. She was never meant to be a fighter, but she was trained nonetheless. Better than many that faced her and yet it wasn’t enough. All those years of Jongin being trained to be the weapon made him intimidating for the first time in her eyes. Her resolve and bravery cracking. Then, hearing him like that over the intercom made her want to shatter. He scared her, because she knew he meant those words. Jongin has a soft heart for those he cares about. A sense of what’s right and wrong and wants to help. She knows Jongin feels like he owed Lang his life, and she pulled on that thread waiting to see them fall apart only for it to come together and get even stronger. It takes threatening a person he deeply cares for to make Jongin act like the weapon their father always wanted.

But he wasn’t coming after her yet…

“She’s still alive,” She mutters to herself. If she would have killed herself like instructed, Jongin would have sacrificed whatever it took to come after her. He would have turned his back on his piloting duties and came for her like an avalanche of certain doom. She remember growing up and watching her youngest brother fight off people after people. His skin covered in cuts, all given to him by Father. If Jongin let’s go of his integrity and his will to be a good person, he can be the most destructive person in this and any other universe. He was trained that way, after all. She remembers watching a seven year old him snapping bones of grown men like it was nothing. The look of cold and cruelty in his eyes. To be an unfeeling machine. Somewhere along the way, he broke out of that. He, to his core, was a good person. Their mother instilled that within them. Minjung ignored it. Jongin didn’t. He was also trained to go after people for revenge. For her… for Lang, he would give into that feeling no question if she had died. But he didn’t. Minjung isn’t certain if there was anyone in her life she would fight for like that...

And now she’s at a crossroad. Does she got after her, finish the job? Or does she turn tail and run? The thought of facing her brother if she did come back to try and end Lang life rattled her. She felt the dread and fear down to her bones. Deep down, Minjung knew what kind of person she was truly.

Jongin rolled Aryl with practiced ease. Most fly worse when their emotions are getting to them, but not Jongin. It’s like he’s moving even quicker. His fighter shooting down more enemies than ever before. Their ships turning into infernos of death as they crash into the water. The sea gathering those dead and dying in it’s cold depths. If it was any other pilot, he’d have an earful of being too flashy. But his skills are known. He flies like he needs to in order to do his job. He sees Sehun’s flyer trying to get two off his tail before he moves to help.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” His brother’s voice says over the comms. Junmyeon’s calm voice a comfort to Jongin. The only one he had right now. The third eldest in their family was calm and composed in times like this. It’s what Jongin needed right now.

“I thought you were in Singapore,” Jongin mutters, focusing as he did a quick turn, firing on the person who was chasing him.

“Turns out a fighter flight between the two is barely a minute. They showed up on their radars and I left,” He hear his brother say, “Someone has to watch over you. Baekhyun is helping Kyungsoo, so he couldn’t.”

Jongin’s heart hurts, “How is she?”

“She woke up once. They had her arm out and there was a screwdriver. Almost stabbed it into herself before Kyungsoo could knock her out,” Junmyeon mutters, “They’re getting that shit out of her arm as we speak.”

Jongin let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He nods to himself. “Dae? Chanyeol? Xing? What are they doing? Are they ok?”

“Dae and Chanyeol are helping civilians get into the underground shelters. Yixing will be out there in a minute. Don’t know where he was hiding, don’t want to know just in case he needs to hide again.” He says Junmyeon tapping away at the console in front of him. “Kyungsoo told me what you said,” Junmyeon calmly says over the comms. It was nice, having his calm voice there to talk to while there was nothing but chaos around him. “What they made her do. I’m sorry. You must be hurt.”

“I…,” Jongin starts, after one of the Kryton’s ships she was fighting is finally shot down by him. “I really believed it, Jun. Minjung was right to choose that, because I barely noticed anything was wrong. I was so happy that she…” Jongin shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter, though. Not now.”

He hears someone plug into their conversation. “There’s a ship leaving from the base. High ranking insignias,” Jongin hears Sehun say. “I’m going to try to shoot it down before it gets too far gone.”

Junmyeon gasps, “I switched to a non recorded feed. Sehun, that’s high treason-”

He could hear Sehun just laugh, though he could tell it was from stress. “Well, add that charge onto my murder of Iscar Rhys. Turns out high treason is something I good at,” Sehun say so casually.

Jongin’s eyes widen as he turns his ship to where he sees the escaping one. Though the window he sees his father and sister, along with someone piloting them. “Sehun, you really-”

“I overheard them. Yixing and Lyra,” He says, “They talked about that man before their marks were off. And then again, as they were getting removed. I’ve never seen them like that…” Sehun laughs, “Besides, I can’t help but want people like that asshole to rot. Reminds me of my father.”

Jongin knew exactly what he meant. Sehun told him once, about his life before the Syndicate. His father an ambassador for Etherion and his taste for young children, including his son. A man many respected, who took trips to Tribal frequently. That was, until Ambassador Oh fell ill, and no one knew why.

“How,” Junmyeon asked, “You were getting ice, and there was no evidence-”

“Chemical spill suit, the cleaner that was on the maid’s trolley outside his door, and a time manipulator,” Sehun says, calmly.

“Time manipulator,” Junmyeon asks, “Those are astronomically expensive. How did you get one on a Syndicate pilot salary?”

“It was your fathers, right,” Jongin asks, as he moves his flyer in front of his father and sister ship, making them stop.

“Yeah,” Sehun says, “He-”

Jongin cut himself from the feed, moving the radio over to the frequency of the Higher Syndicate line, surprised it wasn’t protected. Sehun will just have to excuse him on this. He sees his father look at him, seething in anger while his sister tooks terrified beyond belief. He made sure to flip the switch next to the radio, just in case. Even if the Fighter is blown up, the recording is remotely being saved to Junmyeon’s control computer.

“You tried to have me killed,” Jongin says, feeling his throat tightened. The anger and betrayal he felt finally coming to the surface.

“Yes,” His father says, his words stabbing into Jongin’s heart. For the first time he could remember, his father was disheveled. He didn’t like like a picture perfect higher up. Instead, he looks like a sad angry man.

Even know, knowing the kind of monster he is, Jongin still feels the need to make his father proud. Years of brainwashing would do that, he supposed. The tears fell from his eyes in the helmet, as his hands were shaking a little bit. Here it was, the truth. His own kids are expendable. His father a man who never cared for them as people, just as tools.

Jongin could feel himself burning with anger, “You made Krytons. From your fucking experiments.”

His father looked at him, unflinchingly. He stands tall, as if he’s done nothing wrong. “Yes,” He says, staring without a single ounce of regret.

Jongin gripped the steering lever tighter, gritting his teeth for a moment. “You’re a bitter evil man,” He says, “All this because you want to live forever?” His eyes move to his sister, though he knows she couldn’t tell with his helmet. “And you. You have to try to ruin everything in the most painful way possible because it makes you feel powerful when you’re the weakest person I’ve ever known, Minjung.” Jongin shakes his head, “Cowards, the both of you.”

“If you don’t go, we’ll shoot you down,” His father says over the radio.

“You already want me dead, so do it. Or are you all just scared of actually having to get your hands dirty? To be around to see what your decisions cause,” Jongin practically growls at them, glaring at them. The burning hate in their eyes, but mostly, he sees fear. “I’d love you see you try to shoot me down,” Jongin says with a laugh. “A fighter verses this transport pod? We both know who will win.” He looks at the pilot, “Does your pilot really think he can out maneuver me? I’m the best pilot in this and any galaxy. We all know it. If he’s brave enough to try, I welcome the challenge. You’d have to be a hell of a pilot to be able to do it in a slow ship like that.” He looks at his father. Moving and taking of the helmet. The tears still falling from his eyes as he could stare his father directly in the eyes. “Look me in the eyes, then. If you’re actually going to try to kill me, the least you owe me is that.”

Jongin watches as his father moves, slamming his fist down on the trigger button for the huge laser cannon on the front of the ship. Instantly. Unfeeling and unflinchingly. Jongin quickly rolls to the side, as the blast goes past him along with the transfer pod. The helmet held tightly in one hand. He glares, feeling his heart finally shatter. After everything, the person who’s approval he sought after for so long just tried to kill him directly. The Transfer pod moved slowly, giving him time to put the helmet back on. Jongin just simply turns, looking at the wings and seeing the eight thrusters. He locks onto one of the sides, shooting it. Four of the thrusters exploding instantly. He just stops a moment, watching as they go up in flames. The ship, without enough thrust to keep in the air, starts to glide down.

Jongin turns his radio back, “The transerpod is down on the South side of the island. It’ll float there until we can get someone to extract them.”

He could hear a small gasp. “Jongin,” Junmyeon’s voice says, soft and worried. It made Jongin happy that someone was there for him today.

He looked, seeing a ship explode as a Kryton ship moves in. The barrier stops them from getting in, but it was flickering. “The barrier-” He starts, racing off to keep fighting.

“We have someone working on boosting the power to it,” Junmyeon says, “Go. Do what you do best.”

Jongin nods to himself, before taking a deep breath. His heart racing from the encounter. The pain, knowing that his father hated him enough to actually try to kill him just them with his own hands hurts. The pain of knowing his sister was enough of a manipulative bitch to use the person Jongin loved against him. The haunting sight of Lyra trying to kill herself. After the hell he’s been put through, he needs an outlet.

“If we can take out their bomber, the overall threat would go down,” Sehun says to him.

“Let’s get going then,” Jongin says, shoving all his emotions out of his mind while he could. The threat trying to kill innocent people will have to be his punching bag for the moment.

I wince, looking and seeing Baekhyun holding my arm down while Kyungsoo was looking over what seems like a control panel.

“We’re done,” Baekhyun says, looking at Kyungsoo. “You can turn it off!”

He looks at me, smiling. “Here, all done!”

Everything that happened before slams into my mind all at once. The tattoo, Minjung, the knife… Jongin and the kiss… then ruining it all by being forced to try to kill him.

“I need to get to HQ,” Baekhyun says, looking alarmed. “Kyungsoo, you’re going to be needed at the ER. Lyra, things are going to need to be repaired, and I know you just woke up after a whole ass event just happened to you, but we’re being attacked and we need all hands on deck!” He glances around, moving to the part of the garage and seeing radios. He takes two, getting two pairs of ear pieces and hands them to the both of us. “So-”

“SHIELDS AT… 27 PERCENT INTEGRITY, POWER DIRECTED TOWARDS SHIELDS CRITICALLY LOW.”

I take the earpiece, putting it in my ear, “I’ll go see what I can do to help there.”

“Channel One is for high Syndicate officers only. Two is the HQ line. If you go to three and spin the small dial below, you’ll be able to talk directly to some pilots,” Baekhyun explains quickly. “Jun is handling the pilots, I’ll talk to all ground forces and emergency personnel. The room that controls the barrier is basement three. It’s one large room and there will be a control panel close to the entrance.”

I nod, before turning and taking off into a sprint towards the elevator. People running to do their tasks, some new recruits looking like they’ve seen a ghost. I get to the elevator, people trying to get in. One person practically shoving me out the way in order to get in.

I shove that man out, “I’m working on fixing the barrier, you can wait!”

He glares, pointing to his uniform, “I am a high ranking offi-”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I yell, “I care more about the lives of the people on this island than whatever the fuck you’re about to do, now get the fuck out!”

I slam my fist on the close door button, before finally hitting the BASE 3 button. As he just looks at me shocked, I roll my eyes, letting the elevator go down. It felt like it was taking years, and all I can think of was the pain I saw on Jongin’s face. How his bright smile quickly shifted to a look of betrayal. Thankfully he told whoever came in after he knocked me out that I needed the mark removed. I shake my head, trying not to think of that while a whole fucking battle was happening. I didn’t even want to think of what it looked like outside. The carnage that was happening...

When the door opens I see the entire machine barely flickering. I go over to the control panel, looking around. “Power’s low,” I mutter, running a quick diagnostic. I glare, seeing one of the power sources has been unplugged.

“Baekhyun,” I say over the radio, moving and walking to where the diagnostic shows where on the machine the thing has been unplugged. “Someone unplugged one of the power sources,” I yell into the radio.

“The shield being messed with, the plan to kill Jongin… seems to me this attack was planned,” He says, and I could hear the anger in his voice. “On top of the fact that we don’t have a lot of Fighters, Bombers or evac ships. This was the plan all along.”

I pick up the power plug, using every ounce of strength I had to push it into the shield machine. “The power should make the shield stronger,” I say, moving back to the control panel. “I’m going to make the emergency operations be the primary focus of the power. This should add more power to the shields. Power everywhere but the hanger, HQ and the hospital won’t be functional until someone comes here and turns it back off.”

I side my fingers on the screen, watching as it moved to Emergency mode.

“YES,” Baekhyun yells, “Shields now at 87 percent!”

I move to the elevator, seeing it was working still, but the lights were off. “I’m going back up, what and who needs help?”

“There are some laser cannons that popped up after we went into a state of emergency,” Baekhyun says, “If you want to take out Kryton’s that get too close…”

It felt like a blur, running to one of the cannons outside. People screaming, children crying as I hope into the seat and look at what was happening. I vaguely remember passing by Jongdae as he was directing people into a shelter. The chaos going on as I see Fighters racing about. I feel my heart in my throat when I see one speed by with a bear painted on it. I see a massive bomber, coming towards us.

“Baekhyun,” I mutter, “Is the bottom of the bomber open or not?”

“It’s closed,” He says, “Seems like they want the shield down first.”

“Fuck,” I shake my head. Looking at the ship. I look at the gun, seeing a sight folded down. I flick it up, seeing it magnify as I point it at the bomber. I smirk, knowing exactly what it was. “Patch me into Jongin.”

“Alright,” He says, as I hear a quick buzz as the channel changed. I hear Junmyeon speak.

I completely cut him off. Any other time I could get court martialed for that, but not now. Not that Junmyeon would mind. “That bomber is an older version of the Syndicate’s,” I say, “It has a weakness! Beneath the wing is VERY thin layer of metal between it and the top of the bomb storage. If we can just hit it, the whole thing should be done for.”

“How large an area,” I hear Jongin say over the radio. His voice meaning business. I could tell he isn’t even thinking about anything that’s happened before now.

“As long as the wing and less than a third of a meter in height,” I say, shooting a ship that flew buy me. I frown, “It’s going to require a precise shot.”

“Fuck,” Jongin yells, “I’m not that great of a shot.”

“You could kite it towards me,” I say, “I’m on the canon closest to the hanger. I’m a better shot, but the range on these things are not that great.”

“It would have to get too close,” Jongin, and I could tell he was angry. “Not worth it. The explosion would heavily damage the shield and risk you.”

I could practically feel my heart in my throat at him saying that. “Then I don’t know what to tell you other than try to shoot it,” I say, seeing a Flyer racing towards me. I manage to shoot the driver easily, turning to try and shoot down fast Kryton patchwork Fighters.

“I have an idea,” Jongin says quietly. “Jun… Is Yixing out and about doing his thing?”

“Yeah,” He says, as I manage to hit a Fighter. The sky is full explosions and lasers. Shrapnel raining from the sky, some coming my way as I cover my eyes with my arms. I hiss, feeling some cut into my skin, before I move, looking back and seeing a Fighter crashing down into the water in front of me, a ball of fire being extinguished and sinking quick.

“Tell him to look for me. Lyra,” Jongin says, and I should hear his voice shake. I felt dread, knowing he was planning something. “I’m sorry. You worked really hard on this Fighter, but this is our best chance.”

I was about to ask before I see Jongin’s Flyer racing towards the bomber. My eyes go wide, understanding what he was thinking. “Don’t you fucking dare Jongin you could Di-”

I see his wing clip the thin metal. The wing being ripped away, as it starts to spin. The bomber starts to explode as I see Jongin eject, his Fighter exploding soon after. I felt sick, it felt like an eternity before the parachute opened. “That fucking idiot,” I yell into the radio.

“Yixing is going to him,” Junmyeon says, “The bomber is done. The major threat is over with. Now it’s just clean up.”

I rip the radio out of my ear, taking my worry and fear out with the firepower I have at my hands. Junmyeon was right, it didn’t take long for the fight to be over. I leapt from the gun, moving towards headquarters.

I see a Flyer race above me, as I get into a sprint towards the comms building. I burst through the door, seeing Jongin and Yixing. Blood on Jongin’s side as he was leaning into Yixing, but his eyes locked onto his Father and Sister, both soaked and being held at gunpoint.

I walk forward, moving and pushing my way. The untameable anger I felt bubbling over just seeing Minjung’s face. She glanced at me, before looking away quickly. I move, balling my fist up as I pull it back, letting it smash directly into her face.

Her nose starts to bleed as she looked at me, eyes full of tears, “How da-”

“Fuck you,” I growl, “You goddamned manipulative bitch!”

“I am a higher rank than you,” She says, glaring, “I’ll have you killed for treason!”

I grabbed her jacket, pulling her so that we are face to face. “It would be worth it,” I scream in her face, my eyes filling with tears of anger. “I’d gladly die as long as I dragged your ass into hell with me! How fucking dare you act like you’re in the right!”

She glares, her hand quickly grabbing my throat. Before I could even act, I see someone rip that hand away. She looks, her eyes going wide in fear as I glance, seeing Jongin next to me, looking angrier than I’ve ever seen him.

“What did I tell you about putting Lyra in danger,” He growls, his grip on her hand getting tighter.

“Let go of me,” She says, sounding more like a whine than a command.

“Threatening a high ranking officer is treason,” Commander Kim says.

“Speaking of treason,” Minseok says, looking at his father. “What will happen when everyone in the known galaxies learn of what all the inner circle of the Syndicate has done?”

His father glances at him, “You have no proof. The conversation you recorded Jongin will be dismissed as it was taken without my knowledge.”

“But the info chip with your plans and messages to one another is proof enough to let you all suffer the consequences,” Yixing says, and I see him smirking. “Along with taking down the Tribian royalty, as they knew of the plan all along.”

“We looked all over your room,” Minjung says, shaking her head as she smirks. She wiped her face, trying to regain composure. “There was no chip.”

“It wasn’t in mine,” Yixing says, reaching into his pocket, taking it out. He looks at me, “Ceiling fan was a good idea. Genius that you weighed all the blades down too.”

“Thank you,” I say, smiling. “What worse is if she would have thought to ask me when I was under the mark again, she would have known.” I look back at her, “Seems like she constantly misjudges everyone. Not as smart as she thinks she is.”

“Smart enough to trick you and make you assault a high ranking officer,” She looks at the security around us, “Aren’t you going to arrest her?”

“I’m not pressing charges,” Jongin says, just as we hear the door open. I look, seeing Kyungsoo move inside. He was covered in blood except his hands. He pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, pulling Jongin towards a table as he sat in a chair. He doesn’t seem to care one bit about the tension on the room.

“How,” The doctor asks, looking over the wound after lifting Jongin’s shirt. His Pilot jumpsuit  down to his waist and tied there.

“Kryton blade,” Jongin says, “They clipped me as I was parachuting.”

“Not deep,” He says, “Looks worse than it is. Hand still good?”

Jongin nods, just glaring at his sister. “I told you to leave her alone,” Jongin says as Kyungsoo was taping some gauze over the cut on his side.

“You also told me you didn’t care for her,” Minjung scoffs. “Which is funny because literally everyone who knows you knows you’re so in love with her it’s pathetic.” She laughs, “Brother, I thought you’d have better taste than some Tribian whore.”

My heart fluttered hearing about Jongin loving me. Then I just rolled my eyes to the rest of her sentence. “Say what you will,” I say, shrugging, “It won’t stop the fact that you’re both probably going to get fried. I made something of myself from nothing. You started in a good place and threw it all away.”

She reaches out, grabbing my shirt and pulling me to her. “I will not be lectured by some worthless bitch!”

Before I could do something, I see a hand grab hers and pull her away a second time. I glance, seeing Jongin glare at her. Her face goes pale, eyes wide.

Baekhyun smiles, walking over from his computer, “I wouldn’t get so daring since all the proof of your plans are gracing ever screen in the galaxies right about now.”

Jongin lets go of her, smirking seeing her face go pale.

“Looks like I’m the senior most officer here now,” Minseok says, looking at the security. “Place them in the holding cells. Check them over to make sure they have no weapons. Have Officer Zhang help you. He’ll know what to look for. We have statements to make.”

Commander Kim was red with anger, “The other commanders-”

“Are currently in custody, as we replaced this information to the second in command of the whole Justice department. They are, like you, going to be transferred to Mars, where the Justice headquarters is. There you will be judged for your crimes,” He calmly explains, looking at him. He shakes his head, “All this time you were a selfish bastard. We thought we were helping people… but it was really all of you all along.”

I saw nothing, watching as they get dragged away. Minjung screaming at her brothers, tears falling from her face as their father was just death glaring them.

Jongin moved, holding his side as he just sat down, closing his eyes and leaning back. I walk to him, as he just glances at me. I could see the heartbreak in his eyes. “Lyra,” He says, before looking away, “It’s ok. I know you didn’t mean it. You’re not the type to try to hurt someone unless they deserve it.”

“I almost killed you,” I said, feeling my eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry, Jongin.” I sniffle, looking down.

“Hey,” Jongin says, before I feel something hold my hand. I look, seeing Jongin looking up at me from his seat. He turned to me, a small smile on his face. His eyes weren’t smiling. “I don’t blame you, I swear. It was that mark, like you said. You’re not a murderer. You wouldn’t do something like that. I know you didn’t mean to. I’m just glad you’re ok.” He looked away, “I was so scared, seeing you almost kill yourself…” I see him stop, lip quivering for a moment before he seems to compose himself. “I’m just glad you’re still alive, Lyra.”

“I’m ok,” I mutter, placing my hand on his shoulder. He seemed to tense when I did, before relaxing. I frown, “Jongin, about everything els-”

“Jongin,” Yixing says, looking at us. A small regretful look on his face. “I… I found something else out. You and your brothers should see me. Alone.”

Jongin nods, before standing. He hisses, the cut on his waist hurting. I reach out, helping him stand straight. He looks at me, smiling sadly, before just nodding and walking away. The look of sadness and hurt made me want to completely break.

In that moment, I knew that the feelings I had for him were deeper than just attraction or like. I did love him, and I’m scared he’ll never believe me when I tell him.

Jongin looked at Yixing, who was smiling at him and his brothers. The four Kims standing there, completely shocked. The ticking of a clock in the room were the only sounds for a moment. It seemed to be extremely loud to Jongin, as he just tries to wrap his head around what Yixing just said.

“Mom… she’s alive,” Jongin asks, tears falling from his eyes. “He told us she died in an accident…”

“She’s alive,” Yixing says, smiling. A screen on the wall, moves, as Yixing glides his hand over it, showing their mother. A bit aged, but still beautiful. Her smile just like he remembers. “She’s in Wystria. Making wedding gowns for the last couple of years. She threatened your father to expose everything if he didn’t let you all go from under his thumb.” The spy pats Jongin on the shoulder softly, “He agreed, but she could never see you all again. I’m honestly shocked he didn’t kill her,” Yixing mutters to himself. “I guess there is one person he cared about.” He smiles at the Kims, grinning at all of them. “She’s alive. I contacted her a few days ago. She’s coming here. Should arrive tomorrow. After hearing about the attack, she started to leave. This Galaxy has a jump port to Wystria-”

“Those are expensive to use,” Minseok mutters, his eyes wide in shock though.

Yixing smiled, “Well, turns out your father’s account hasn’t been frozen yet. I remote paid for it with his money. She’ll be here early tomorrow.”

“How did you find all this out,” Minseok asks, quietly. Of them all, he remembered their mother the most. Felt the most pain when she was gone suddenly, seemingly taken from them. Now, he knows she’s alright. Left for their protection. He nods to himself, seems like something she would do.

“There was a file locked on his Reader,” Yixing says, his smile bright for them. He was happy to finally give them at least a little good news. “I know you know of it, Minseok. It took a bit but I finally cracked into it. I set this all up right before there was an attack.” He looks down at the floor, a sigh. “He cared for her. A lot. Which is why she was given an ultimatum. He had a journal. He told the other commanders that he had her killed.” Yixing looks at them, seeing the sour look on their faces at the mention of their father. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s alive, and is excited to see you all again! Right?”

Jongin pulled him into a hug, gripping him tightly. If it hurt him, Yixing didn’t show it. He just held his friend. After everything that’s happened, Jongin finally broke down, crying and sobbing into his friend’s shoulder. His mother, Kim Minjee. He closes his eyes, remembering her white hair and purple eyes. He clutched Yixing tighter, feeling his legs give out as Yixing just carefully got to the floor, on his knees still holding the pilot.

Jongin didn’t even look at his brothers to see their reactions. He just let himself get lost in the pent up feeling of the past day.

Yixing held him tightly, his heart breaking for his friend. When Jongin pulled away, he looks at Jongin. Yixing brushes the hair out his face, “Some advice? For future talks?”

Jongin looked at him, vulnerable. Scared. Yixing has never seen him like this. Always that confident bravado he puts on. Armor to shield him away from negativity. Jongin, the pilot, always ready and willing to jump into any fray looked like a small and emotionally exhausted boy. He nodded.

“When Lyra gets the chance to tell you, believe her,” Yixing says, smiling. “I overheard her and your sister, when she was giving commands and questioning her. You sister didn’t just hurt you today. Don’t push her away. Give her a chance.”

Yixing smiled, patting him on the shoulder. Jongin didn’t remember much, except Jongdae helping him to his room, where he, after the stress of the day, passed out. In his dreams, the smiling face of his mother and a mechanic covered in grease.

[olympivnshq]

congratulations hanna !  we’re so glad to see someone applied for our boy ACHILLES!  we immediately agreed your application was amazing the second we laid our eyes on it  - and the fact you went above and beyond to research achilles’s lore was just so heartwarming. it was very clear you were passionate about the character in how you’ve captured his voice and essence effortlessly throughout the application. so, that said, we’re happy to have you with us with your first faceclaim choice: NEILS SCHNEIDER!

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  OOC INFO.

I’m Hanna, a 22-year-old nerd hailing from the GMT +2 timezone. I love coffee and drunk crying because I couldn’t pet a dog once.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  DEITY  —  GENDER. AGE RANGE.

ACHILLES – MALE. 26 - 29.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ MORTAL NAME. JOB/OCCUPATION. BOROUGH/NEIGHBORHOOD.

Austin Alexander Pelham-Niarchos, though for the sake of simplicity, he goes by Austin Pelham. Actor / Heir. Tribeca, Manhattan.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ AESTHETICS.

deafening cheers of the adoring crowd. letting the waves wash over your feet. a confident posture, challenges welcome. lazy mornings with a lover. biting into fruit and cherishing the taste. gilded crowns. teeth bared possessively when you try to take something that is theirs. flippant eye rolls. the constant presence of paparazzi. bloodstained swords. the rush of adrenaline. a child living entirely in the moment, not caring about the future. cities decimated after a whirlwind of rage and grief. dividing your time between two homes. a silver spoon in his mouth. spite is a great motivation. golden curls that bounce as you run. screams loud enough to frighten the gods themselves. a heart tattoo on the crook of your arm. a grin as sharp as a knife. a blindfold covering your eyes at the critical moment. slender fingers skillfully manipulating the strings of a lyre. boys or girls? boys and girls. bones tainted with exhaustion. black sunglasses, black leather jackets, black jeans. it’s this or that – no time for in-betweens. death is a friend. whatever it takes. the dust in your competitors’ eyes as you run past them with ease. a tight, terrified grip on it so it won’t slip away.

☆ﾟ*・ PLAYLIST.

i. so in god’s son we trust/ ‘cause they know i’m gonna give ‘em what they want. ii. some legends are told; some turn to dust or to gold. but you will remember me, remember me for centuries. iii. if there’s light at the end, it’s just the sun in your eyes. iv. i’m gonna fight ‘em all / a seven nation army couldn’t hold me back. v. you people are mistaken if you think that i’m awake and celebrating anything that i’ve become.

☆ﾟ*・ HOW WOULD YOU PLAY THEM?

Achilles. It would be easy to focus on what is known of Achilles’ and conjure an idea of his personality through his deeds. A legendary child with a destiny that had even the gods themselves trembling. A ruthless and skilled warrior who, instead of being deterred by the crimson covering, was energized every time he was out on the battlefield. A stubborn and prideful man who was unafraid to close his eyes to the suffering of others if it helped him make a point. A fiery inferno of rage on a quest to avenge his beloved’s death. All these traits are a part of Achilles; there is no denying that. However, if he was reduced to only these, it would be a major disservice to his legacy. The aforementioned traits paint a portrait of a godlike creature with very little humanity in them. That is not who Achilles is, though. He was half-god, yes, but he was also mortal and had traits which highlighted this part of him. Achilles was a trusting child, for he had been told from a young age that he would be great and, therefore, had little to nothing to fear. He was a natural performer with an innate power, a way with words, to captivate people and draw them in. He was a fearless leader unafraid to fight beside his men instead of forcing them to fight his battles for him. He was a man in love – and oh, did he love ( & grieve ) deeply. Achilles was a man who made mistakes and, consequently, despite his invulnerability, suffered the horrifying consequences of those actions. Did he deal with those consequences well? That can be contested. But in the end, he did learn from his mistakes, even if it was slightly too late. But that just proves that, despite his demigod status, beneath the expectations of greatness placed on his shoulders at a young age, Achilles was human.

Austin. The memories of Austin Alexander Pelham-Niarchos indicate a story eerily like the original hero. The only son of a US Army General and a Greek heiress to a shipping empire, Austin’s destiny seemed clear from the start – enjoy the opulent life, join the Army, and become the greatest hero this nation had ever seen. This was the path laid out for him; and Austin accepted it with a casual shrug of his shoulders before resuming his daily adventures as Manhattan’s boy king. Some called it arrogance, some called it indifference – but truthfully, that reality felt like a distant dream, years away, so of course a child could not be bothered to focus on it for too long. And so did Austin’s rich kid life – education in the best institutions in the world, money, fancy clothes, fast cars, and a large crowd of adoring sycophants. While he did enjoy the advantages granted to him, he could not shake the feeling in the back of his mind that something, or perhaps someone, was missing. This obstacle, nevertheless, was not powerful enough to complicate his future plans, but as he graduated from Harvard University, one such challenge did arise. She had never before openly objected Austin joining the Army when the time came, but suddenly his mother was vehemently against it. His parents had a major argument over it, yet Austin remained indifferent – this was not, after all, the first time his parents were quarreling. He was even less interested in getting involved when his mother, through her connections, got him his major role on the silver screen. Acting hadn’t been a profession Austin had seriously considered, but it did not take long for him to get swept up in the glamour of it. Specializing in action or war films due to his athleticism and ability to fight, Austin knew he had found his calling. Sure, some people called him a particular personality ( a polished way to call him a stubborn, somewhat single-minded asshole ), but what could they do to him? He has millions of fans screaming his name, he’s Hollywood’s moneymaker even after several years in the business, and he gets the job done in a way no other can. Even now, when he’s on a break after finishing shooting next spring’s major blockbuster film, Austin feels like he’s a god at the dawning of the world.

answer these questions:

1. Are they more likely to stand with the pantheon or against it?: I’d say Achilles is quite indifferent towards the matters of Pantheon. Despite being a demigod himself, he holds no special love for them; this was evident after Patroclus’ death when he willingly defied them in order to avenge his beloved. Gods are, in Achilles’ mind, a messy and dramatic bunch (a bit rich, considering what a drama queen Achilles himself is) and he does not have time for that. He fulfilled his destiny back in Troy; now he just wants to live his best chill life with Patroclus without the interference of the gods.

2. what is their stand on mortals?: Mortals > gods. 100%. Achilles is half-mortal himself, so how could he ever despise them? Furthermore, several things in his life swayed his opinion toward pro-mortal. Firstly, when the quest for glory was his main goal in life, he preferred mortals because they would be the ones responsible for ensuring his legacy would remain alive. To gods, he knew, he’d be just another hero. Mortals, on the other hand, would revere him in the years to come. Secondly, Achilles wouldn’t want to live forever without Patroclus (and there’s basically no way for Patroclus to become a god), so that’s another reason why he would rather stand with the humanity than the gods.

☆ﾟ*・ SAMPLE PARA (OPTIONAL)

              he has barely set a foot inside the bar; his hand still rests on the door, holding it open. not everyone within the establishment, but already austin can sense that, within a few seconds, all the attention will be on him. an arrogant observation, perhaps, but a truthful one as well. readying himself for this encounter, his lips twist into his trademark smile ( a cheshire cat, and a veil of secrets all in one ) mere second before he lets go of the door. it clicks closed behind him and, as if compelled by the sound, everyone’s heads turn toward him. the heir observes their wide eyes, their not-so-subtle whispers for a moment ( a cheap source of amusement ) before he strides toward the bar with purposeful steps. with graceful movements, he hops on to a bar stool with ease and lifts his hand to catch the attention of a bartender. “i’d like to have—,” austin considers. his expression turns serious before an idea hits him. he glances at the glass of the person next to him, “— whatever they’re having.” the bartender nods and as they leave to make him his drink, austin shifts so that he’s facing the person whose drink idea he just borrowed. “aren’t you going to tell me what exactly i’ll be drinking?”

☆ﾟ*・ ANYTHING ELSE?

Here’s my pinterest board!

[beepbeeprichiellc]

Prompts list. 26. // reddie plzzzzz ❤❤

26. “Help me I’m stuck.”

The cold air burned his lungs as his feet pushed faster. His glasses were fogged, impairing his vision and limiting his options but he still ran. There was a voice behind him, yelling profound things at his expense. He were getting closer, Richie could feel it and he had to keep going, just a little longer even if it killed him and at this moment he swore it would.

“You can’t run forever Tozier!” Henry Bowers voice cut through the air, piercing his ears. “You’re going to pay for what you said about my mother!”

He couldn’t help but laugh, adrenaline pumping through his veins giving him false courage. Cutting a sharp left he lept over the edge of the kissing bridge, tucking his shoulder and tumbling down the steep hill. There was a pain in his back, a uncomfortable twist in his wrist and a rock that lodged itself in the tender flesh of his left cheek but he bared it and did his best to keep the injuries to a minimum. Reaching the bottom he caught himself, glancing up to the hate ridden face above. If looks could kill, Richie was sure he would be six feet under.

“I stand by what I said about your mother!” Richie yelled upward, adjusting his glasses. “She is a toothless hillbilly with a mullet and bad breath.” In that moment all hell broke loose because the ugly bully hauled his body over the edge, grunting as he attempted to follow. “Oh fuck.” Richie breathed, turning heel and bolting deeper into the barrens.

He had the advantage, his long limbs making him faster but he had also taken a beating on the way down. There was no way he would be able to hold his own in a fight and knew he would have to find a way out of the hole he had dug. There was about twenty feet between him and Henry, and the gap was closing drastically. Without thinking he reached out and grabbed hold of the closest tree, climbing desperately for his life. Luck for Richie was part monkey and climbed up the fifteen footer in a matter of seconds where it would take anyone else minutes.

Everything stopped when he reached the final branch because there, nestled against the smallest crevice was a smallish boy with wide eyes and parted lips. “Uhh.” Richie stammered, blinking. “What in the hell are you-” There was another yelling voice from below, a deeper one that seemed to harmonize with Henry. Eventually Patrick Cocksucker (Richie’s personal name for the asshole) rounded the tree, with dark eyes and bared teeth. It was a terrifying sight, two of the most feared and insane boys in town, both looking for their weak and defenseless prey. Richie looked back to the boy and nodded, crawling over him and sitting right beside him. There was an unspoken agreement between them, fear and tension bonding them in that moment.

They sat up there for hours, watching the two boys talk and stalk people who were watching from afar. It was like they were never going to give up, that was until the sun was hidden on the horizon and the night had crept across Derry. The other boy, who Richie still didn’t know the name of, had fallen asleep at some point, leaning against the trunk. There was no blame there, the bruise along his jaw already darkening, telling the story that didn’t need to be told. When silence had been present for thirty minutes straight, Richie decided it was safe enough to leave.

“Hey.” He whispered, nudging the boy gently. “Hey kid, wake up.”

The small boy bolted upward, a yelp catching in the back of his throat, his arms grabbing the tree with a deep hold. “Wh-what?” He sputtered, looking over to the trashmouth and frowning. “Are they gone?”

Richie chuckled to himself, “Yeah, they are gone” He shimmied his way to the edge of the branch, smiling over to the boy and joked. “We should make this a weekly thing, I enjoyed hiding for my life with you.”

In one foul swoop Richie jumped, landing on his feet rather gracefully for the otherwise awkward boy. He puffed his chest proudly, amusement bubbling in his gut as he turned and looked up, not surprised to see a impressed look on the other boy’s face. “That’s right, dispite these glasses, I’m pretty fucing cool.”

The boy rolled his eyes, “I highly doubt that.”

“Well come on, jump down.” Richie commanded, pointing at the ground and nudging his shoulder towards town. “Unless you are planning on living there from now on.

This made the kid frown, leaning forward slightly as if inspecting the height. Richie watched the color drained from his face, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip as his grip tightened around the trunk. Suddenly he looked out of place, a pristine boy in a dirty place, and Richie wondered why he hadn’t meet this boy before. Patiently the trashmouth waited, not wanting to abandon the kid with fear in his eyes. The boy dug into his pocket, pulling out a deep red inhaler and placing it between his lips, inhaling deeply. Richie wasn’t sure why that was so god damn endearing, “What’s our name?”

“E-Eddie.” He sputtered.

“What’s wrong Eds.”

“That’s not my name.” Eddie shot back immediately, his voice thin with no force behind his words. “And-uh-can you-fuck-help me, I’m stuck.”

“You’re what?” Richie laughed, grinning wildly.

“I’m stuck okay? I didn’t realize I was this high and I don’t think I can-goddamn Patrick had me so worked up I just climbed and now I don’t know if I can get down.”

Richie continued to chuckle, amused by this small boy. Sure, he had friends, but for whatever reason there was something about Eddie that drew him in. The universe, or God, or what the fuck ever, picked this tree for him to climb, pushing them together. There was no going back now. “Alright, just jump and I’ll catch you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Jump and I’ll-”

“That is not going to fucking happen.” Eddie shot back immediately, turning his nose up in disgust. “One, I don’t even know you and two, your arms are like noodles! I mean I know I’m not heavy but-”

“Look, it’s late and I’m tired, either you jump or stay up there, you’re choice Eds.”

He could see the wheels inside of Eddie’s head turn, his lips pursed in deep thought. Richie wasn’t sure what to expect, but knew he had to get home eventually with or without his new friend. Eventually Eddie sighed, banging his head against the trunk in defeat, “Alright, fine. Just know if I break my arm I’m going to kill you.”

“Don’t worry,” Richie muttered, “I’ve got you.”

“Okay, one, two-” Eddie shimmied to the edge his feet dangled just over Richie’s outstretched arms. “Three.” And he lept, literally lept with faith that this boy he had never met before would catch him, there was so much to be said in this but in the moment Richie couldn’t even speak because the weight that suddenly pressed into his arms jerked him forward into the grass. With a curse he tumbled for the second time today, crying out when his head bumped against Eddie’s. “God damn it!” The small boy screeched.

He didn’t know why but Richie started to laugh, landing atop of this boy who he had hidden with for hours on a ground that was 90% mudd. It wasn’t even funny and he knew it but the light feeling in his chest and flutter in his heart meant more than the pain in his body. He was still laying on Eddie, lifting himself onto his elbows and stared down to him with a wide grin. “You fell for me.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes. “I hate you.”

“You don’t even know my name.” Richie corrected, still not moving and loving the closeness.

“What’s your name?”

“Richie.”

“I hate you Richie.”

But even then, Richie knew that wasn’t true.

[imjustthemechanic]

Our Own Demons

Part 1/? - A Bolt from the Blue Part 2/? - A Different World Part 3/? - Stark At Home Part 4/? - Pot Roast Night Part 5/? - Space-Pie Continuum Part 6/? - Energy Signature Part 7/? - Miss Potts Part 8/? - Bot from Beyond Part 9/? - Even the Odds Part 10/? - Miss Potts Arrives Part 11/? - Truth Hurts Part 12/? - The Third Reality Part 13/? - Thor and Odinson Part 14/? - The Tesseract Platform Part 15/? - Prime Suspect Part 16/? - Jailbreak Part 17/? - Shenandoah

What if Tony Stark really were the villain of the Marvel universe?  How would that work?  Tony himself is about to find out, as he battles his inner demons (and some outer ones, too) across a multiverse of infinite possibilities.

The suit’s flight path followed the highway into Virginia, cars tiny on the road far below, as JARVIS picked up the tale where he and Tony had parted ways.  When the suit recovered from the overload, the computer explained, you were still present, but you were… altered.  I inquired about your appearance, but you told me all was well, and asked where we were headed.  I replied that we were on our way to meet Miss Potts at the LACMA, and you said that was excellent and that I should continue on that course.

Insofar as he could, JARVIS sounded nervous… was he afraid of Tony being angry with him?  “And you knew something was wrong, but you couldn’t overrule him,” Tony said. JANIS had known that Tony wasn’t her creator but she’d obeyed him anyway – she hadn’t had any choice.  Neither had JARVIS.

I could tell he wasn’t you, Sir, said JARVIS apologetically.  His speech patterns were all wrong, as were parts of his physiology – most notably the arc reactor still implanted within his chest.  I tried to find something I could use to shut him out…

“It’s okay, JARVIS,” Tony said quickly.  “Not your fault.  This isn’t a security problem I remotely planned for.  Show me his face.”

An image appeared in the HUD, first in wireframe and then rendered with realistic colour.  It was slightly distorted, since JARVIS was reconstructing it based on sensor data from inside the helmet, rather than displaying a photograph – but the face was still recognizably Tony’s.  This alternate’s hair and beard were both steel gray and cut very close to his head. A dent in his hairline on the right suggested an otherwise invisible scar, and his brow was deeply furrowed, as if from concentration or constant frowning.  There was something in his eyes, Tony thought, that wasn’t very friendly – but maybe he was projecting.  Maybe it was just that he knew he was looking at himself at his worst.

“Right.  Close that,” said Tony, once the image had burned itself indelibly into his brain. He now knew exactly whose ass he had to kick once he got there, although he wasn’t sure just what the kicking would entail.  He’d make it up as he went along.  At least he could be pretty sure his enemy was likewise improvising.  “What did he do once you got to LA?”

We landed at the museum, and he put the suit in the back of Miss Potts’ car while he waited for her to come outside, JARVIS replied.  Tony could picture the scene as his AI narrated it: the white Audi with the little plush bunny – a miniature replica of the giant one he’d tried to give her for Christmas – hanging from the rearview mirror.  And this asshole with his face sitting in the front seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited, the way Tony himself often did. Ms. Potts came out and greeted him, and asked if he were all right.  He replied that he was fine, and told her there was an emergency.  She asked if he were going into hiding, and whether that were why he’d cut his hair. He replied that there was no time to explain.  He drove to a secluded location, where he forced her to enter the Mark XLIII.  She tried to resist, and bloodied his nose by banging his head against the steering wheel, but he overcame her using Mr. Stane’s paralytic tone.

“What?” Tony asked.  He remembered the paralytic from when Obi had stolen the arc reactor – it didn’t hurt, but it was terrifying, the way all his muscles had simply stopped right where they were and he’d found himself trapped inside his own body.  The idea of anybody doing such a thing to Pepper made him so angry that for a moment his vision actually went red.  This, he thought, as rage pounded inside his chest, must be what it felt like to turn into the Hulk.

I warned her this was an imposter, JARVIS went on, but before I could explain further, there was a second power surge, and she was gone.  He went in after her and vanished as well.

“So where’s the suit?” Tony asked.

The LAPD impounded it shortly thereafter, said JARVIS, along with the car itself.

“No word of anything funny happening in its vicinity?” Tony asked.  The last thing he needed was a killer robot terrorizing the Los Angeles Police Department. They’d doubtless blame him for that, too.

None, Sir. I will monitor news feeds.

That was potentially good news.  If the other suit were still intact, after being used for three transfers there might be enough of the ionic residue in it for one more.  That would be a last resort, though.  Tony would much rather get a proper supply of the stuff by catching up with the truck. “How far until Winchester, JARVIS?”

Two minutes and twelve seconds, Sir.  We’re almost there.

Upon arriving, Tony circled the campus of Shenandoah University once and then came in for a soft landing in the middle of the flagstone labyrinth on the west lawn.  It was the middle of the afternoon now, and the school was a busy place.  There were students on the path nearby, and people getting into their cars in the parking lot across Abrams Creek – and all of them stared, some taking pictures, as Iron Man came in for a landing.

Tony would normally have enjoyed the attention, but right now he had a job do to and it would be harder to do if the police realized where he was.  He held up his hands.  “No need to panic, I’m an Avenger,” he said, and chose the nearest group of people to approach.  The suit, heavy-footed as they all were, clumped across the lawn.  He really needed to figure out how to make them lighter on their feet.  The group, three young men all of East Asian descent, one of them carrying a basketball, took a couple of steps.

“Don’t worry,” Tony told them.  “I’m just making a quick stop.  I need to find a guy named… what did you say his name was, JARVIS?”

Xanthopoulos, Sir.

“This is not my day for names.  Dr. Zan-tho-poo-los,” said Tony, which was the best he could do.

The boys were silent.

“Nope?” asked Tony.  “Anybody?  Bueller? All right, I’ll find…”

“Wait,” said the tallest of the boys.  His hair was long, and blue at the tips.  “You didn’t hear, huh?”

Tony’s heart sank.  Of course, he thought, he should have expected it.  “Let me guess.  He’s already made a hasty exit.”

“He’s dead,” said the boy.

That was worse… and yet somehow it figured.  “How?” asked Tony.

“They’re not sure yet,” the boy said.  “I can show you where, though.”

Tony almost left the suit behind, on his usual assumption that he was slightly harder to spot without it, but then he remembered that all he had on underneath it was his orange arrest jumpsuit.  He didn’t want to be wandering around in that, so he thumped along fully armored as the boys led the way towards Wilkins Hall, where Dr. Xanthopoulos had his office. The entire building was cordoned off, surrounded by police cars.  Considering that he’d only just gotten out of jail, Tony wasn’t keen on getting too close.  If they spotted him, he would have to fly away in a hurry.

Another of the boys, this one wearing big plastic-rimmed Ray-Ban glasses, described the events in a hushed voice.  “What I heard,” he said, “was that around ten this morning some people pulled up in a black car and went in to see him.  They left about twenty minutes later, with him.  The department secretary went to check his office and found it had been torn apart, so she called the cops.  When they went to his house, they found that it had been ransacked, too, but his wife said nothing was taken.  They found his body in an abandoned car at the Wal-Mart in Hagerstown.”

“I see.”  Tony ducked back down behind the low brick wall with the letters SU on top of it, where the police couldn’t notice him and realize they’d stumbled across their highest-profile fugitive.  Squatting in the suit was extremely awkward, even more so than going down stairs.  “Does anybody have the faintest idea what they were looking for?”  They hadn’t found it – if they had, they wouldn’t have killed him.  He was sure of that.

“No,” said the third boy.  This one was the shortest, and was wearing a t-shirt with the university’s coat of arms on it.  “But I know who’d know – his daughter would!”

“She’s not his daughter,” said the one in the glasses. “She just kind of hangs out.”

“Still,” said the boy in the heraldic t-shirt.  “She’d know.”

The three were not able to agree on the name of the girl they were looking for, let alone the exact nature of her relationship with Dr. Xanthopoulos.  They did have a good idea where to find her, though – she was in the Smith Library, a round-fronted red brick building that looked more like a concert hall from the outside than it did a library.  Where she was within it took a little more work.

“Hey!” a security guard shouted, as Tony headed for the door.  “You’re not going to wear that into the building, are you?”

Tony paused and recalled that he was still in the armor. No, he really couldn’t do that, could he?  “Sorry,” he replied, stepping out of it.  “I forget about it sometimes – it’s like those contact lenses they advertise, feels like wearing nothing at all!”

The security guard had no response for that, as Tony had hoped he wouldn’t.

The three boys had someplace to go and probably didn’t want to be seen with a fugitive, so they went their own ways, leaving Tony with a description of the girl he was looking for.  When he found her, he recognized her right away.  She was bleach-blonde, with big stretching rings in her ears and another piercing in her septum – and even if it hadn’t been for her distinctive appearance, the fact that she was curled up under the desk in one of the study booths crying would have been a clue that she had a rather personal stake in whatever had happened that morning.

“Hello,” said Tony, squatting down to talk to her face-to-face.  “Sorry, I know you had a rough morning, but I wondered if I could ask you a question or two.”

She looked at him and frowned in confusion.

“What’s your name?” Tony asked.  “The guys who suggested I look for you didn’t know it.”

“Are you Tony Stark?” she sniffled.

“Yes, I am,” said Tony.  “But don’t tell anybody.  I’m trying to lie low.  Not something I’m good at, I’ll admit.”

She scowled.  “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Huh?”  Tony thought back over the events the boys had described.  Had his other alternate been up to more than he realized?  “Okay, it’s a long story, but whatever it is you think I’ve done, I didn’t do it.”

“Really?”  She sat up a little and wiped her nose, then glared at him.  “So your company didn’t sell the bombs that got my Dad killed in Afghanistan?”

Tony couldn’t have said what he’d expected to hear, but that wasn’t it – and the words were like a punch to the gut.  Here he’d been prepared to defend himself against an accusation of something he didn’t do… and she hated him for something he did.

“Well, okay, no, they did do that,” he admitted.  “But I didn’t know about it.”

“Do you really think I believe that?” she asked.  “You owned the company.”

“That doesn’t mean I knew everything they did!” Tony protested.  “But it does mean I should have, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”  Probably not worth much.  It was never enough… could never be enough.

“It’s not worth anything,” she snarled.  “Leave me alone.  I don’t want to see anybody right now, especially not a mass murderer.  If I were in charge you’d be in prison for war crimes.”

“Excuse me,” said another voice – a bearded librarian was leaning over the side of the cubicle.  “If you two are going to talk, can you do it outside?  This is a quiet study space.”

“He was just leaving,” said the girl.

“I was,” Tony agreed, “but I really need you to come with me.  Like I said, I need your help.”

“I would literally rather jump out a window than lift a finger to help you,” the girl said.

“It’s about Dr. Xanthopoulos,” Tony tried.  “I know who killed him.”

“So do I,” she said.  “He told me himself that they were going to.”

“Look, this sounds like something you should both be talking to the cops about,” the librarian said, “but either way, I need you to leave the building.  Now.”

That would do… although once they were outside, she might try to run.  “We’re going,” Tony promised.  He took the girl’s purse from the cubicle table and offered it to her.

She snatched it, and crawled out to stand.

[cvenir]

here i am to introduce EIGHT characters that i actually thought i had already introduced lmao set me on fire !! but yay, take a look under the cut! ofc eventually proper bios will hit my pages and their tasks will expand much more on my children! as always, pinterests and songs are linked if u wanna go a lil deeper

just kidding i drafted that when i was aCTUALLY gonna do 8 but thankfully tea says she won’t accept me until i post 2 intros so yOU SHALL RECEIVE 2 RN and 8 later <33333 gotta keep y’all on your toes heh also i wrote niall’s in my journal on the plane so like... it’s not great (literally just bullets of sentence fragments) but wtvr that’s what bios are for amirite

NIALL O'DONOGHUE looks an awful lot like TARON EGERTON. HE is TWENTY-EIGHT and while they're ASTUTE, they have a tendency to get pretty ARDUOUS. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to DON'T WANNA FALL IN LOVE by KYLE (ok his pinterest is incredibly unfinished look away)

v conflicting mix of soft and hard

king of suppressing his lowkey intense feelings

kinda awkward around others due to the fact that he spent his entire life reading, writing, and studying –– he rarely interacted with other people as a kid and this mostly continued into his adult life

sweet soft boi has a double masters in medieval and renaissance studies and french and romance philology; he’s working on his phd rn while interviewing to become an assistant professor at kola university

grew up w a single mom (never knew dad) and had no siblings so his childhood was even lonelier :////

so like mad libs = his bff :’(

well mad libs and the shoulder flashlight he invented for late night reading (shoutout to amy santiago)

v soft and passionate heart

loves intellectual discussions like my boi has v strong gemini/virgo/mercury influences –– and a libra (or taurus i haven’t decided yet) venus so waTCH OUT

takes friendship v seriously (love u grant <333 @mcnuggcts )

buttt he can be a giant asshole sorry i don’t make the rules

v organized and particular

and scared of getting close to people bc he’s so used to being alone ugh my son!!

but once you get in there you’ll see he’s a good guy like rlly is he just has a bad temper sometimes and can barely express any emotion but anger half the time :///

ISLA VARGA looks an awful lot like ALEXIS REN. SHE is TWENTY-TWO and while they're SAGACIOUS, they have a tendency to get pretty MACABRE. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to COOL GIRL by TOVE LO. 

so i’ve played isla before n i’m v sorry to do this but i feel hella lazy so i’m sORRY but here comes a fucking huge wall of text don’t look at me and don’t feel like u have to read it ://// all the triggers i tagged apply to her; she’s p dark so seriously do not read it if you think she will make you uncomfortable!!

to preface, isla is like the embodiment of all of the seven deadly sins, and i molded her a lot after amy dunne (scary, i know) and april ludgate (mostly amy tho april is just deadpan like she is –– when she’s being herself, that is), as she is an incredible pococurante yet perfectionist who borders on sociopathy

soooo this will make sense later but her real name is actually brigid (father’s surname idk) which she now uses as her middle name

so isla’s dad is a fucking rockstar !!! badass right. she’s half-siblings with hadley ( @ofadorations ) and colby ( @shtbgs ) but she actually never met her mom, something she’s not too pressed about

bc she was cute as a button, family friends decided to get her into the entertainment business as a child star almost as soon as she could walk –– she did it all, acted, modeled, danced, sang, she was literally hollywood’s little starlet and she hated every minute of it. the entertainment business loved who they created, but that girl was never her and it weighed deeply on her psyche.

when she was twelve, she decided to fake her own disappearance because she was fed up with everything –– she cut her hair to her ears, dyed it brown (and has continued to do so ever since) and sneaked her way to nyc hoping no one would recognize her

well someone did, and they happened to be a member of ruthless and organized mobs of the city –– in return for keeping her concealed, she pledged her devotion and became one of their most skilled and lethal honeytraps in the business (WHICH IS ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE BC THEY MADE HER START YOUNG I AM SO SORRY FOR WRITING THIS IT JUST PLAYS HEAVILY INTO HER CHARACTER)

along the way, members inevitably died –– people she was sworn to care for –– many times before her eyes as well, which only lead her to realize she enjoyed witnessing all sorts of death, even those of people she was supposed to “love”. emotion was almost nonexistent in isla’s childhood, a trait that bled into her character development.

she began to idolize the gang and its power, something she now craved. still, isla was doing a great job of portraying herself to those around her as a rosy, meek, baby-doll, when in actuality she was a child full of hate who would soon blossom into a young adult of the same tone. she became even more obsessed with death, fantasizing about it as if her unusual thoughts would make her less afraid when it came for her. 

eventually, as she grew older, she was accepted into the higher ranks of the mob; this couldn’t have made isla more content. the macabre girl was honored that someone else noticed her genius, the way she could predict things, assess situations, manipulate people to do her bidding. it was only right that she was initiated into a society that praised her for such harshness

but, as all things do, her time in the gang ended after ten years and isla did what she does best: disappeared. she’s relocated back close to home, kola california, and it’s only a matter of time before people and the industry realize just who she is

if she’s acting like her true self, she behaves like a negative, eldritch layabout who likes to watch others suffer (sounds extreme, i know). however, she rarely lets anyone see the real her, and instead accepts various facades in a big game –– the darkness is truly her personality, she’s not faking her cold demeanor. this image enables her to mask her true potential and the fact that she is unflaggingly loyal and cares about those she’s close to.

if i had to give her a label, it would probably be the pococurante (which is defined as: an indifferent person. possibly they’re bored, jaded or even been hurt. either way, they tend not to get attached to things and don’t show much enthusiasm, whether that’s on the outside or the inside, too)

on the other hand, she could be accurately summed up as an arcane, as she’s an enigmatic mystery and she prides herself on being a puzzle that several people have failed to solve. there are many sides to her personality; in some aspects, she’s very much an aesthete considering she spends a great deal of her time taking putting together outfits, so she has a very defined fashion sense and typically dresses like a princess half the time, which is very ironic considering her dark personality. she truly is so GLAMOROUS (and this is why i love alexis for her) and she works that mean girl, hard soul aesthetic while serving looks and also able to come across as incredibly sweet, which is perfect for her multiple personas. she’s a stunner, with both her appearance and personality; as much as she is indifferent and would prefer to fly under the radar, wherever she goes people always want to ask questions, making her into this intangible concept that everyone wants to define.

people will recognize parts of her as if they’ve seen here in another life, and because of her ostentatious, puzzling, and spellbinding personality, she’s unforgettable. on the other hand, she’s also something of a virago, due to the fact that she can be incredibly feisty when angered; but it takes quite a lot to actually set off her fuse, as she’s good at controlling which emotions she shares. for the most part, she is incredibly blasé and even-tempered. additionally, she’s is a bit of a picaro because her primary aim with her life at this point is to be independent and liberated from any and all attachments to other people. mostly, though, she’s is nothing more than a girl who’s afraid; of what, she still can’t decide.

all in all, she’s so much of everything that she isn’t quite certain of her own identity. her character is one shrouded in secrets and shadows yet alluring and sensual. but, lbr, most of all she’s just deadass terrifying. one of her defining characteristics is her desire to make things happen for her through her own abilities and determination. obstinate as all get out, she doesn’t like to own up to making mistakes so she tries to prove that she’s almost invincible to them bc she doesn’t wanna let anyone see her vulnerable, or she doesn’t want to let someone down - this refers only to those that she’s actually close to. due to her apathetic nature, all she really wants to do is let most people down – people she finds boring and useless – and have some fun because of it. however, when it comes to people she truly has allowed herself to care about, her deepest desire is for their happiness because they must be pretty damn special for making her give a shit.

still, because of her evasive tendencies, she almost always does ruin things for herself and for others, even when she actually cares. she’s like a double-edged sword; when she finds something worthwhile, she sees so much beauty and potential in it, but she’s got a midas touch. whenever she wants to obtain it or pursue it, her involvement makes everything fall to ashes, and she is afraid of her own influence. despite her tendency to run away, once she latches on and decides to be truly loyal, she’ll be devoted in such an extent that she would undoubtedly kill for them.

she can be a loudmouth whenever she actually decides to speak, constantly fabricating outlandish stories and even going off like a deranged person, but beneath her caustic and frightening exterior, isla is rather pensive. on the occasion that she chooses to offer legitimate advice, it’s usually very elaborate and composed. still, she doesn’t want people to know about capable she is, or how intelligent she can be, so she hides her rare brilliance with a tough exterior and stoic personality.

idk if you can tell but i like diving into the specifics of my character like their star signs and stuff so i searched an amy dunne mbti and tweaked it bc it really helped describe her even further! she’s a intj !

introverted intuition (ni): isla sees everything around her in a world of symbols, of metaphors, and of potential. her narration will continually be littered with predictions, with ideas about how things are going to be and what will result from this or that. despite her brashness that some may assume is impulsivity, she is a planner, anticipating new “problems” and seeking to rectify them with her own twisted brand of justice. she tries to work everything into her overall system of understanding, of her big ideas about how the world works, including her take on her various false identities she possesses for her previous job as an escort but also to mess with the minds of others around her. she’s always disappointed by how the real world is never as good as the way she imagined it; she is perfect and nothing else can catch up with her expectations.

extroverted feeling (fe): despite her aloofness, and rather lack of any sort of emotional bearing, empathy, or any sort of true feeling, isla is conscious of how others’ perceive her, of the image she’s created, and of how key that social perception is to her success, even if it’s just in her own imagination. she restrains her real opinions in order to adapt to her environment, as she’s somewhat of a chameleon, only a few have had a chance to catch the true witch beneath the crown. she’s the mistress of change, easily altering her identities in order to better fit in with new people, should the situation require it. she’s easily devastated when she reveals her real personality to others, as in the past, some that she’s left truly see her have refused to accept her twisted true-self. even though she is wholesomely selfish and self-seeking, isla is very people-focused, and applies most of her intellect and analysis onto general people-based functions, that may she can have the confidence that she has clearly manipulated and analyzed every aspect of her environment, as she needs this to feel in control.

introverted thinking (ti): as mentioned, isla is highly analytical, always trying to see the why of a scenario, what’s behind human behavior, which turns her attention to psychology and manifests in her flair for anticipating the thoughts and actions of those around her; she is so obsessed with understanding why people tick that she looks past her own slighted judgment, as she herself could easily qualify as a sociopath/psychopath. she’s always trying to fit in any new experience, or piece of information, into her pre-established system of facts, and as such is rarely ever surprised. despite her apathy and lack of care for her life or how it progresses, she’s highly organized and loves to make checklists, arrangements for the future, and methodically ticks of her obligations, one by one. while her emotions and feelings are significantly suppressed, and even nonexistent, she makes up for that human trait with a very powerful mind, one that is quick to learn and adept with languages, memorization, and logic. however, she doesn’t want anyone to know just how brilliant and quick she is, as it’s her greatest asset, thus explaining why she chose not to be a member on the intellectual team.

extroverted sensing (se): isla tends to respond her physical environment with fierce analysis, as expressed in her intellectual capabilities. she’s almost incapable of living in the moment, contrary to how people suspect she is, considering she portrays herself as impulsive and cunningly excitable. in reality, though, even when she’s crossed off everything on her checklist, she’s almost incapable of relaxing, or enjoying the world around her, as she doesn’t find things that other people find beautiful. she struggles the most with the physical side of her plans, even though she is a very physical individual. she is very open with her body and indulges with the lusts of the flesh, as she sensuality is at the same level as her wickedness. along with this, isla craves for the environment that houses her figure to be pleasant and organized, and can’t stand when things are out of order.

[purplesurveys]

181

Do you have a signifigant other at the moment? Do you love him/her? For the billionth time, yes and yes. How many people do you live with? Are these people related to you? I live with four people and they are all my immediate family. I also live with one dog and he’s my favorite out of everybody. Have you ever considered anyone or anything too personal for your liking? I don’t get if you want to mean anyone who’s too open about themselves that it’s scary or like a song that’s too personal that it opens up wounds... Are you a confident person, or do you keep to yourself usually? It depends. There are situations in which I wouldn’t mind having the spotlight on me, but that’s only when I feel totally comfortable with the people. Have you ever had to have surgery before? What was this for? Never and I wish I never have to? I’m terrified of anaesthesia and needles.

Are you listening to any music right now? What song is it? Nope, but my brain is playing Paramore’s Grudges for me. Where was the last place you vacationed to? Did you enjoy this time? I was in Vigan and I loved it loved it loved it. My appetite for museums was more than satisfied there. When was the last time you ate pizza? Where from? Was it good? We got Pizza Hut delivered this weekend. Always a good idea. Their mozzarella crust is to die for. Is there anyone right now that you are simply/overly infatuated with? Eh sure I like Gabie’s face. What is your orientation? Gay? Straight? Metrosexual? Anything other? I really dunno. When people ask I give them a shrug and tell them I don’t really care, which they respect and I’m grateful for that. The closest label to fit me would I guess be queer. Is there anyone you know who is utterly repulsive? Who is this person? My mom, most of the time. Are you related to any elected officials? What is their position? Yeah, the people on my maternal grandfather’s side hold several positions in our province. Not sure about the specifics. Do you have a certain standard you follow, when it comes to relationships? All of my prospects have always been super intelligent so I guess that’s one standard I unconsciously take note of. I know Mike is taking up molecular biology and biotechnology; and when she hadn’t migrated yet, Andi knew and said things kids our age wouldn’t and that’s what pulled me to her; and Gab is just simply the smartest person I know. Not so much academically like Mike but she’s a walking encyclopedia about everything else nonetheless. Who did you last hug? When did this hug take place? Where? Summer, and we were in Skywalk–which, for anyone from outside my university, is a spot in the college that serves as the home or base of our org. It’s called Skywalk since it’s a tunnel-like passage that links the first building to the second. Who was the last person to play with your hair? Are they cute? Gabie I think, but someone from the org might have done it more recently. I find either cute. Who was the last person close to you, that died? Did you cry? I wasn’t close to her as a friend but she was my sister in a sense that I went to high school with her, and my entire class is my family, so when she died it affected me deeply.. I did cry upon realizing that this was a person in my circle who was gone, and I cried listening to her sister talk about her at the wake. What was your favorite year of your life? Why is this your favorite? 2014. It was the most depression-free time I had. 16 year old me was so bubbly and cheerful, I miss her.   Is there anyone out there who can make you smile at any time? Hans. What is your favorite television show? Why do you watch this show? Not anything on TV nowadays but my heart will always belong to Breaking Bad. It’s one of the few storylines that I was able to latch on to until the very end. If you're in school, do you like this school you attend? Or do you not? I love it. No reason not to, it’s my dream university. Have you ever done anything really dangerous or illegal with friends? I don’t think so. When my friends do something stupid I’m usually the first one to nope out and be the mom that tells them not to be too rowdy. Who is the one person out there who makes you feel very special? My girlfriend whenever she opens doors for me, puts her jackets over my shoulders, gives me the chicken skin, etc. Do people call you a low-life sometimes/always? Why do they call you that? That’s not a term we use around here. Do you want to tell anyone anything right now? Who is this person? I guess I want to tell Sofie I’m sorry that our friendship didn’t last the way we wanted it to. We made plans for the next few years and were each other’s confidante, so it was sad to have it fizzle out. Are you going to post this survey on MySpace after you're finished? Hah. What is the fourteenth word of the song you're currently listening to? Are there any foods out there you just can’t refrain from eating every week? Burgers. Do you like Mexican food? What’s your favorite meal under that genre of food? Sure. Any day is a good day for a burrito. Do you enjoy shopping? Who do you usually go shopping with anyways? I would if I had the money for it...I usually do the shopping myself or with my sister. When you see someone attractive, what's the first thing you look for? Well since I already found them attractive as implied by the question, I move over to see if they’re an asshole, or is one of the rich kids with elitist problems. Sadly that’s a reality especially in my uni–lots of attractive people, very few with depth. How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Do you find this healthy? 1 or 2. I’d say it’s acceptable. How old were you when you lost your virginity? Who'd you lose it to anyways? I had just turned 18 and it was with my present girlfriend. Do you wash your own clothes? Or does someone else do that for you? My mom is in charge of laundry. Are you afraid of thunderstorms? What exactly makes you afraid of them? Not at all. I find myself calm around them. What color are the shutters on your house by the windows, if there are any? We don’t have those, just curtains. They’re all white, but in varying shades. When was the last time you attended church? What is the name of this church? Sunday because Catholic family yuck. I don’t even know what it’s called. Do you enjoy talking smack to those annoying telemarketers? Is it funny? First of all that’s mean. I just say I’m not interested or hang up completely. Do you consider yourself a healthy person? Physically and mentally? It’s weird–I know I don’t live a healthy lifestyle (don’t exercise, have a really dangerous diet of burgers and everything fried, etc.) but my body (both in and out) doesn’t reflect that and appears to be in top shape, so I’d say I’m in the middle. Mentally, not a chance that I’m healthy. Who was the last person you held hands with? Were they taller/shorter? Gab, slightly taller.

[chroniclesofawkwardness]

The Awful Truth

During my first three years as an undergrad at Ohio State, I stayed in the dorm closest to Ohio Stadium, the same one Jeffrey Dahmer lived in when he was a student there. Dorm-room technology had probably changed in as many ways as it stayed the same between Jeffrey’s era and mine. In the micro-fridge that had probably been in the room since Jeff roamed the halls of this building named after one of Mr. Lincoln’s acts that freed land instead of people, I don’t remember finding a singular earlobe encased in ice, or a perfectly preserved pubis devoid of flesh that may have once been a good luck charm to suggest that I’d be having friends for dinner in the same room where Mr. Dahmer may have studied the intricacies of human anatomy in preparation for his career of choice. 

The first of the two rooms of my suite had corkboard filled with holes that were probably as much natural as manmade above two desks that sat catty-cornered from one another. As I began to unpack my computer and set it on the desk closest to the disappointingly barren micro-fridge, my brother told me that the Internet connection I was about to plug into was the equivalent of a firehose at a time the standard was a dialup garden hose with kinks in it every six inches.

The bedroom had two beds, catty-cornered from one another like the desks in the front room, and shelving between them that was probably installed around the same time somebody thought a micro-fridge was a good idea. I wasn’t much interested in the shelves, or rock-paper-scissoring it for who got which one. I didn’t want to piss in the corner like a dog marking its territory either, despite the fact that listening to my dad tapping the steering wheel while butchering Incense and Peppermints by Strawberry Alarm Clock on the drive up made doing stop drop and roll in traffic, or deliberately wetting myself just for the attention seem like great ideas. 

All I was focused on when it came to the bedroom was putting my Rita Hayworth poster on the wall above the head of my bed using some bluish silly putty the manufacturer said wouldn’t damage the walls. Once I stuck the poster to the wall, I only pretended to ignore it, secretly hoping that someone would oblige my reference to The Shawshank Redemption by calling me Andy, telling me to guard my pickax carefully because folks around the dorm loved surprise inspections, or wondering aloud how long it would take me to tunnel through the wall with it. 

The eight of us sharing the 1150s suite that year had been scattered throughout Ohio before uniting on Ohio State’s Columbus campus that fall. The only exceptions were one guy from Illinois, and one from Pennsylvania. As college freshmen, we were terrified, yet hungry for new experiences at the same time. Who felt what, when, and why probably varied from man to man. I was more terrified than hungry, yet still eager to prove to myself that I could transverse the sprawling campus without the assistance of the same transportation from the Office of Disability Services that had spectacularly backfired during orientation by either showing up late or not at all to shuttle me back and forth between placement tests.

When I wasn’t out trying to make it from point A to point B, my roommates and I were spending too much of our free time playing video games. At one point, the eight of us were playing old-school Punch-Out on our computers at the same time using emulators like NESticle to reach into the past and bring bits (bytes) our childhoods to the present. That said, most of our screen time was spent playing Madden. I don’t know how he did it, but Illinois would play as the Falcons every time, and constantly call audibles that made Chris Chandler, Jamal Anderson, and Terance Mathis look like first-ballot Hall of Famers. We were powerless to stop him, but that didn’t stop us from trying. 

When it became clear that the eight of us wouldn’t try to kill each other except in Madden, we began decorating the walls of our suite’s common area with posters. Rita stayed in my bedroom not only because she gave off more of the prison cell vibe I was going for, but also because my Rita Hayworth story was both too obvious and too personal for anyone who happened by to see. I was content with the ah-ha moments and laughter that came when a near stranger comprehended the thinly-veiled reference to one of my favorite movies, but I also that hoped the same near-strangers wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at me that I balled my eyes out every time I watched the ending.

One day, someone hung a poster displaying an awful truth in our common area. It was black and white with The Awful Truth written in all caps across the top. Below that, there were symbols you'd see on the respective signs for men’s and women’s restrooms. The female’s heart was drawn where it anatomically should have been, the male’s heart was in his dick. I got a good laugh each time I saw it, but it was also a stark reminder of how inexperienced I was with the opposite sex at age 19.

Back then, I controlled my libido the only way I knew how: constant unfettered release. My consumption of adult content wasn’t as bad as it would become as Internet connection speeds got even faster, but I won’t lie and say that I didn’t take advantage of the high-speed connection of the time for some high-speed gratification. When 19-year-old me met a real woman, I had no clue what to do, what to say, or how to act. I didn’t know who I was at that time, probably because I was setting millions of little pieces of myself free far too often. It was easier to lose myself in the pornscape than hold on to what naturally made me a man. There, I didn’t have to think of women as real people who could challenge me. There, I never had to be afraid that a woman would call me a creep if I expressed sexual interest. Women across the pornscape never said no, not even to a 19-year-old like me, and they always seemed to enjoy whatever their fellow performers did to them. 

Years later, when I met the woman who would become my fiancée, she was also 19. I’d been leading the English conversation club at the American Corner in Novi Sad, where Zs. was a student at the university. I assume that’s how she found me, but I can’t be sure. I got a friend request on Facebook stating she’d added me. She had no profile picture, and of course, I didn’t recognize her name. Despite these obvious red flags, I acted per the awful truth of males thinking with the little head instead of the big one and accepted her request sight unseen. And to think, when I was 19, I thought my dad was an asshole for doing essentially the same thing at a time before social media exploded.

At first, I thought she was just picking my brain for its knowledge of English. As a student of the language, I assumed she was happy to learn whatever I had to offer as a native speaker in a place where native English speakers were as rare as walls untouched by nationalistic or phallic graffiti. The red flags became even brighter when she’d just so happen to be at the end of my street before I could cross into the city center where one of the schools at which I taught was located. Glad for the attention, neither of my heads was thinking straight. The big one began to fill with love dreams brought to music by the Hungarian composer Franz Liszt - Zs. was, after all, from a predominantly Hungarian-speaking part of Serbia - the little one and its attachment began to fill with blood. Honestly, I didn’t feel as intensely attracted to her as I had to other women. I won’t say she made it too easy, only that the ego wants to want more than it wants to have. 

The interior of her apartment was as cold as her hand the first time I held it. Still, I loved waking up beside her in the morning and watching a VH1 station that played music videos as we lay beneath the covers. Daniel repeatedly tried to convince me that Zs. was working for the Security Information Agency of Serbia (BIA), which meant she was using her sex to pump me for information. He offered to put her under surveillance as often as he congratulated me on being with a nineteen-year-old. Paranoia would slowly seep into my big head as I replayed his words of utter conviction that I was sleeping with a real-life spy whenever Zs. and I were together. Predictably, my little head could not resist the temptation that I’d so often prayed God would not lead me into while growing up Catholic. 

When I saw how ridiculously high her heating bill was, I began to entertain the idea of asking her to move in with me. Our relationship was as new and exciting as it was unknown; I thought I loved her. Plus, I needed someone with whom I could split the bills after escaping the Crazy House and renting an apartment that a fellow teacher had occupied before returning to Seattle. I thought it was a win-win situation for both of my heads.

But, red flags kept waving even before we decided to live under the same roof. Sex with Zs. had been nowhere near as fulfilling for me as it had been with S. Zs. and I never bonded in the same way, however briefly, that S. and I had. This wasn’t entirely Zs.’s fault. Since being kicked out of the house in Sombor and letting my thoughts run wild about my uncertain future, I hadn’t practiced yoga. To this day, I’m convinced that the practice allowed me to enjoy sex with S. so much because not only had the technical difficulties of Sombor kept me from any contact with porn, but, I’d learned to discipline my body in ways I never had before. This combination allowed me to consistently last as long as I wanted, and feel the unchartered contentment of holding S. in my arms after making love without the emptiness of a genital sneeze at the end. The contentment of the feel of her long black hair across my bare stomach as she’d rise slightly to settle herself on top of me, and kiss me upon coming back down. The ecstasy of sinking more deeply into one another’s being, the heat of the summer sun trying to burn its way through the curtains that kept us from prying eyes all the while. The rapture of neither wanting the moment to end.

Zs. did not enjoy cunnilingus nearly as much as S., another red flag. To make matters worse, as the mental and physical discipline instilled in me by yoga faded away, I lost control over my body and mind that I once had. if I could tell Zs. wasn’t into it, or I just wanted sex to be over, I’d ejaculate too early, or almost immediately after penetration out of spite. Eventually, I couldn’t withhold my seed for more than ten minutes if I tried. Since I’d gone back to regularly consuming porn, I found myself envious of how the male performers seemed to be able to both last forever, and ejaculate on cue. Since Zs. didn’t fancy cunnilingus, but could easily lose herself in British literature (she would repeatedly tell me that I just wouldn’t understand Flaubert’s Parrot by Julian Barnes), I privately wondered if I could spice up our relationship by having us pretend to be in a 1960s-themed black-and-white British porn mystery called Alfred Hitch’s Cock Presents, which would later be reimagined as a series of erotic nursery rhymes adapted for after-dark television, featuring the largest of black male talent: Hickory Dickory Cock.

The degree and forethought of my fantasies were at least partially the results of the feast-or-famine lifestyle of substitute teacher taking its toll on me. Some days I’d have three classes at multiple schools. Others, my phone wouldn’t ring at all. I’d be stuck in our apartment watching the slow, flickering death or my laptop screen, and wanting to save it more than save myself. On rare occasions when my laptop was closed, I’d be locked in a staring contest with the vacuum cleaner Zs. insisted we buy. One part of me wanted to run it, another didn’t see the point. If I didn’t do it, she’d yell at me for not helping out around the house. If I did, no matter how hard I tried, she’d be unsatisfied with the results. She’d tell me I couldn’t do anything right, and slap me across the face so hard that imprints of her fingers would be left across whichever of my cheeks got in the way of her palm. Finally, and frequently after long days at the university, she’d do it herself, and make sure I could see the contortions or her angry, embittered, I’m-going-to-kill-you face all the while.

I could have been a better lover and partner to Zs., there’s no doubt, but as both our familiarity and dissatisfaction with one another grew, her attacks became more frequent, and the polarity drained from the relationship. 

The awful truth.

I couldn’t go the cops even though the police station was right around the corner. No one would have believed that my fiancée beat me up, not in a Serbian society still paying the price for repeatedly looking backward while others around it had been opening up to the world, drinking beer from tallboys, and eating lunch at noon for years. Besides, I wasn’t sure what, if any, rights I had on their turf. I like to think that that I was somewhere between the Hungarians and the fifteen layers of downward-rolling shit that separated them from the Roma in Serbian societal hierarchy, but maybe even that’s being generous.

Even as it became clear the relationship wouldn’t work, I couldn’t just hop on a plane and go home. I didn’t want to think of myself as a coward. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t entertain the thought of just turning my back on it all, and watching it burn like one of the precious books Zs. said I’d never understand. Tuesdays would have been my best chance. She had French class at 7:30 A.M. and was at the university all day. I was too scared (scarred) to run the vacuum, so instead of porn fantasies starring Zs. and me, I’d dream of packing everything in the same suitcases I’d drug behind me when I was practically homeless after getting kicked out of the house in Sombor, and never looking back.

One particular Tuesday, amidst my thoughts of flying home and seeing her jaw hit the floor upon walking into an empty apartment, Zs. came home unexpectedly. She had terrible menstrual cramps, and was practically convulsing in pain the moment she walked in the door; I’d never seen anything like it. Through clenched teeth, she managed to tell me how to ask for maxi pads in Serbian, and I went to the corner store to buy some. 

The things you do for dissolution.

Even after she stopped slapping me around (her friends told her she was mean to me), I couldn’t bring myself to love her again. My sometimes-intentional-sometimes-not premature ejaculation paled in comparison to her capacity for cruelty.  I questioned myself as a man for allowing such domestic violence to occur on my watch. I felt as if it was my fault for allowing her verbal and physical abuse to go on for so long. Maybe I did this because I was taught that girls don’t hit boys, and boys don’t hit girls, however untrue that turned out to be. 

Zs. may have been a minority, but she was still a Serbian citizen. If I fought back, and she went to the police with even the tiniest bruise claiming to be a victim, I reasoned that they’d be all too happy to throw me in prison. If the media got wind of it, I could have easily become the new symbol of American aggression against peaceful Serbia. Even a country whose conservative political currents had had no problem looking back over 600 years to their ancestors’ glorious defeat battle of Kosovo wouldn’t have to go back that far - the 1999 NATO bombing of Yugoslavia - to find an example of bloodshed in which Americans like me could easily be blamed. I could see the title card of the Netflix miniseries chronicling my relationship with Zs. in my mind’s eye:

Američki nasiljnik for Serbian-speaking audiences, Bruise is the New Bomb for English-speaking ones.

So I waited. There were many nights when Zs. and I wouldn’t even look at each other after pulling out the sofa bed to go to sleep. I’d stare into the darkness of the ceiling above, dream of coming home in a coffin, and wonder what the hell I’d gotten myself into by agreeing to share a studio apartment of 28 square meters with a woman eight years younger who made me watch Ally McBeal reruns and romcoms until I wanted to throw up. In 2011, when she got a scholarship to study at Montclair State University in New Jersey, I knew I’d have to leave Serbia too, as she had become my basis for staying in the country. 

I came home that summer. When Zs. tried to convince me to come to New Jersey and spend Thanksgiving with her that fall, I told her I wouldn’t. Not long after, we broke up over Skype, the same means I’d used talk to my family while missing out on the previous four Thanksgivings. 

I laugh when people ask me if I still talk to her. I don’t think I spoke to her even once after the Skype breakup. I stopped returning her calls because I wanted her to suffer, like I did when I was alone in my room in Sombor, or solitary in the darkness of my first night in the Crazy House.

I intentionally keep my emotional distance from most people these days. Yet there are times when I’m as sick of the sound of my voice as I am the company of others. Hoping Zs. would suffer was as ill-advised as trying to recapture the contentment of intercourse with S. as we shielded ourselves from the piercing summer sun. My attachment to feelings of that kind is the root of my suffering, not the feelings themselves. My cup may never runneth over, but I’ll find ways of filling it, ways to embrace experiences instead of attaching myself to outcomes. I might even read Flaubert’s Parrot, not out of spite, but curiosity. 

That’s a truth I can live with. Not because it’s awful, but because it’s mine.