#i might be able to get to 80 wishes with my current pace with shit

[homoeroticvillain]

im so hyped for scara banner that its unhealthy

[tangledstarlight]

...i said i was going to make it and well, here we are i guess. im so sorry for this.

Carlos Molina’s to Guide to Ghost Hood (title subject to change) 

welcome to the 1st edition, maybe i’ll make a 2nd if i get inspired enough but also, this is such a mess already i don’t think the world needs a part 2 dfghg

Link to the power point is in the first reblog. (i’d highly recommend watching it for the full experience dfgh)

Link to ao3 also in the first reblog. 

below the cut is the accompanying fic and description of the rules/guide.

The tape recorder lets out a low buzzing sound as Carlos presses a button on the side and stands it up between them on the dining room table. Julie shoots an amused glance at Reggie who’s taken up residence in the chair next to him, the two of them flipping open notebooks and clutching pencils. 

“Where did you even find a tape recorder?” She wonders, stretching out a finger to touch the silver rectangle only for her hand to be swatted away by Reggie.

“Found it in a box of moms stuff and dad said we could order some tapes from amazon,” Carlos replies matter of factly, straightening up in his chair once he seems to have found the page he was looking for. “Right. Let's start off easy, shall we?” 

He looks at her expectantly and Julie rolls her eyes, waving a hand at the two of them, “Lets.” 

“Question one,” Carlos taps his pencil at the top of his page before squinting at her, “Did you conduct any séance related activities before the ghosts showed up?” 

Julie blinks at him, wondering if he’s joking but the pair of them just look back at her, heads both slightly tilted and it’s at that moment that she realises how serious they’re going to be about this. It was going to be a long afternoon of questioning apparently. 

“No, I didn’t conduct any séance related activities. I just put on their CD and they y’know, fell out of the sky.” 

“Interesting, interesting,” Carlos mutters as he looks at Reggie’s notebook as the older boy writes her answer down, underlines something and taps it with his pencil that makes Carlos let out a small hm. “So you don’t know anything about the dark room? Didn’t make any wishes?” 

“No,” Julie shakes her head, watches Reggie write something else down and tilt his notebook to Carlos. It’s weird, watching them communicate like that, like they’ve created a shorthand between them and don’t even require her presence to have a conversation. Which is obviously true because they’ve clearly discussed all this beforehand. 

“You walked through Luke right? What did that feel like to you?” Reggie’s question catches her off guard and she looks between them, but Carlos is already looking at her, waiting for her answer. 

“It was um cold? But also not. I--” she frowns, trying to think back to that first night in the kitchen when she’d turned around and walked through him. Back when she’s barely known any of them and was more annoyed by their presence then comforted. “It was weird. The first few seconds after I walked through him I just felt cold but then it was like a rush of warmth? You know when you get one of those random shivers that runs through your whole body? It feels all weird and tingly but also kinda nice? Like that.” 

“Did it feel like you got a feel of Luke?” Carlos asks and Julie shrugs, a slight blush on her cheeks and somehow, despite the fact they can’t see each other, the two of them share a look. 

“What’s the next question,” anything to move off the topic of walking through Luke and how it felt. 

//

“Oh Julie is gonna be so pissed at you guys,” Alex mutters but makes no move to step in and stop the ‘experiment’ currently going on. He watches as Reggie tries to put a hand on Carlos’ shoulder, fingers phasing through the younger boy's jacket with a frown. 

“She won't be pissed if it works,” is all Reggie says, face morphing into one of concentration as he slowly lowers his hand on to Carlos’ shoulder again. 

For his part, Carlos bounces slightly on his toes, eyes fixed on the notebook in Alex’s hand in case they need to tell him something. And okay, Alex might not fully agree with the way the two of them are going about this whole thing, but he can’t say he’s not on board with it. Their whole stint as ghosts has been nothing but confusion after confusion that not even Willie has answers for. Does he think Reggie and Carlos are going to uncover some fundamental thing that makes them the way they are? Probably not. Will they maybe get him some kind of answer? God he hopes so. 

Especially since there’s been small moments in the last few weeks where Ray and Carlos have been able to hear them even without them playing music or Julie nearby. Which had scared all of them. Thought it was nothing compared to Ray’s reaction when he’d apparently walked into the kitchen to find Julie and Luke hugging, only for him to vanish when they suddenly let go. It was a hell of a way to find out they could be seen if they were touching her. 

“Oh!” Carlos suddenly exclaims, head whipping to look at his shoulder where Reggie’s hand is resting solidly on the fabric of the jacket. Alex feels his eyes widen a fraction and watches Reggie’s smile widen as he squeezes slightly on Carlos’ shoulder. “Oh my god! I can feel that!” 

“Holy shit,” Alex whispers, grip on the pencil in his fingers growing. 

“Hey! I heard that too! Quick! Write it down! 30 minutes and- and however many attempts it took!” Carlos grins, face turning towards him and Alex doesn’t even have time to feel guilty about swearing before he’s scribbling in Reggie’s notebook.

//

“Thanks again for taking me,” Carlos says as he pulls his seat belt across his chest and clicks it in, eyes drifting from his tia in the front seat to the little notebook resting on the back seat and the pencil that’s hovering just a few inches off the paper. Subtly he sees it tap on the page, once, twice, and he bites down on his grin, tucking his hands under his thighs to stop from bouncing in his seat. They’re ready. 

“Of course mijo,” Victoria smiles over at him as she turns on the engine, fingers already messing with the buttons on the radio to find her favourite station. “I have to say I’m impressed. Planning ahead for your dad's birthday.” 

“Mhm,” he agrees, his eyes on the notebook that he can just see in the rearview mirror. The pencils resting between the creases in the pages and he holds his breath as the radio jumps to a different station. 

Victoria frowns slightly, her eyes darting from the road to the radio and back, hand reaching out to change it back. When it jumps to another station. And another. Carlos feels his eyes widen a little, legs bouncing on top of his hands as he watches the radio cycle through station after station, only lingers for a few seconds on each before moving on. 

Finally it stops, the words of Despacito ringing through the car and it’s lucky they’re at a red light he thinks, because when Victoria tries to change it it jumps right back. 

“What the f-” she starts, the furrow between her brows growing deeper and the knuckles on her hand that’s still gripping the wheel turning white. 

“Can we leave it? I like this song,” he looks over at her with a smile, blinking in what he hopes is a completely innocent way. He’s pretty sure she’s too distracted by the radio to question it. 

“Sure, sure,” she mutters, not even looking at him, eyes going from the road to the radio. 

The song ends and from the corner of his eye he can see the pencil in the back moving, Reggie or Willie writing something down and he has to stop himself from turning around to see what it is. Instead he watches as tia starts changing the radio station again, her fingers never leaving the touch screen as if that was the problem. But the second she lands on her favourite 80’s classics station and is moving her fingers away it changes. Skipping through stations again until Despacito is once again filling the car. 

It’s probably lucky that they’re at another red light and that there’s no one behind them because her eyes widen and she’s suddenly saying words in Spanish that he knows he shouldn’t know and is pulling over to the side of the road. 

“We have to get out! The car is being possessed! Out, out Carlos! Come on!” Her seat belt is off and her door is open before Carlos even has a chance to process what’s happening. The notebook from the back is pushed in front of his face and he tilts his head a little to side to read Reggie’s familiar handwriting, 

Too far? 

“Maybe,” he whispers back, taking the notebook out of the ghost's hand as he starts to get out of the car, plucking the pencil out of the metal spirals and making a note about not pushing tia in a moving vehicle and to wait until after they’ve gone shopping first. 

She’s got her phone pressed to ear when he joins her on the sidewalk, pacing up and down. Carlos is pretty sure there’s going to be a family dinner story time in their near future. 

//

Luke watches as Carlos sets his tape recorder up, idly plucking out a half finished tune on his guitar in order to be seen and heard. He doesn’t really get the other boys interest in figuring out their ghostly state of being. The same way he doesn’t really care about finding answers to all of Alex’s questions. 

They ate some bad street dogs. They died. Julie brought them back and then she saved them a second time. They can play music and sometimes be seen. He already has all the answers he needs and it’s two words: Julie Molina. 

Would it be nice to know what the black room was? Sure. Did he sometimes wonder why they could be seen but other ghosts couldn't? Sometimes. Did he want answers? Only if someone was going to give them to him without having to do the work. Was he going to sit here and answer all of Carlos’ questions because it was important to him and to the others? Fuck yeah he was. 

“Does that think pick up our voices even if we’re not playing and not near Julie?” He nods at the recorder on the table after Carlos hits a button. 

“Yeah! It’s so cool too. You sound like, all static-y and I have to listen really hard sometimes because your voices fade in and out but they’re there!” 

Okay, Luke can admit that is pretty cool, “That’s wicked. Maybe we should start using that to communicate instead of writing.” He was really sick of people commenting on his handwriting. 

“Dude that’s genius! It would be like leaving each other voice notes!” He gestures in the air with his pencil the same way Julie does when she’s realised the issue with a verse and Luke smiles softly. He doesn’t know what voice notes are, but he’s glad he could contribute to the communication issue. 

“What questions have you got for me then little dude?” He raises an eyebrow at Carlos as he flips through his notebook. 

//

When he’d first knocked Alex down Willie never thought it would lead to him sitting in the Molina’s family living room, a whiteboard resting on his knees as a twelve year old shows him bar graphs and pie charts of information on ghosts. 

There was probably some kind of domino-butterfly effect going on that had led him here. But he’s too busy trying to fit all his know ghost knowledge onto a whiteboard so Carlos can fill in the gaps in his knowledge. 

Over the years Willie has met a lot of lifers, has interacted with a handful at the HGC but he’s never met a family like the Molina’s. Who found out ghosts were real and instead of running, or trying to profit off of them, had just...welcomed them into the family. Arms wide and hearts open. 

And more than that, here was Carlos trying to get answers to questions that none of them really had an answer too. 

“Black room, yes or no?” Carlos asks, holding up a flash card and a clothes peg, ready to add it to the line of string stretching across the room. It was already littered with other cards in an order that Willie really didn’t understand but seemed to make perfect sense to the younger boy and Reggie. 

Not for me, or anyone I asked at the club, he scribbles down, turning to the board around. 

“Just like we thought,” he nods to himself, taking two steps to the left and reaching up to attach the card, “An anomaly.” he whispers it to himself and Willie has to bite his lip to stop from smiling before remembering that Carlos can’t actually see him. 

“Hey,” Alex’s voice from the doorway drags his gaze away from the lifer and the smile he’d been trying to stop spreads across his face, “How’s it going?”

“I don’t think we’re even half way through,” he chuckles, gesturing with one hand at the stack of flashcards and the charts he hasn’t even seen yet. “Do you understand this system?” 

The exasperated laugh that leaves Alex’s lips is answer enough before he’s even shaking his head, strands of blonde hair dipping into his eyes and Willie wants to reach to move away, “Not a clue. They’ve tried to explain it to us but it makes zero sense to anyone but them.”  

“Hey, Alex, stop distracting him, we’re working here!” Carlos’ voice makes him jump, head turning back to where he’s standing with his arms crossed and shaking his head in disappointment in the vague direction of where Alex is standing. 

“Wait, can he see you?” Willie frowns, mind trying to remember if he knew this or not. 

“No, he’s just really good at sensing us these days,” Alex sighs, but there’s a fond look in his eyes as he looks at Carlos, “He says it’s his ghost powers kicking in from how often he hangs out with Reggie and from all the failed teleportation experiments.” 

“The failed what now?” 

“Oh, you’ll find out. I think it’s section 7?” Alex grins, pushing off from where he’d been leaning against the doorway and waving.

Willie turns back to Carlos feeling a little more confused than he had minutes ago but also much more intrigued about teleportation experiments. And if he could help get some answers for any of the many questions Alex had, that was cool too.

//

Carlos Molina’s Guide to Ghosting. So you became a ghost, huh?

 (working title, subject to change)

By Carlos Molina, with special thanks to Reggie Peters and Willie Skateboard. 

1st Edition. 

Dedicated to Alex Mercer, so he can stop asking so many questions. We’re working on it buddy.

1. Tangibility 

They can walk through anything (except my sister now, reasons still unclear). 

Works especially well with walls, doors and locked vaults (see exhibit a) 

When they walk through people it “allows them to get a feel for the person” – Reggie Peters. “It’s weird” – Alex Mercer. No comment from Luke Patterson as he was too busy staring at Julie. 

2. Souls

Objects can be attached to their souls. 

Still unclear if it has to be an object that they were close to in life, or if they can attach their souls to any object once a ghost. 

Experiments with Reggie Peters are still ongoing. Updates will follow.

3. Being Seen

Can be seen by “lifers*” when they play music with Julie. 

This is the first rule which only applies to our ghosts. 

They can be heard when they play music without Julie. This is also unclear as to why, working theory is “Our music is just so awesome it transcends deaths!” – Luke Patterson.

Mr Willie Skateboard was quick to point out it’s “weird” and “ghosts aren’t supposed to be seen by lifers.”

4. Touching

Our ghosts can now touch Julie. The biggest change in their afterlife. 

Still no explanation for it. Experiments are ongoing (see exhibit b) 

Have witnessed Julie hugging the air many times only for Alex or Willie to appear. Same with hand holding. (see exhibit c for dads reaction) 

5. Magic

Some ghosts have powers and abilities. 

Willie* can control different types of technology. Appears to work best with cars. This we believe correlates with who a ghost dies. 

In our expedition to test his skills he skipped through 15 different radio stations of Tia’s car until he found one playing despacito. Test was a success. Tia does think her car is haunted now however.

6. ???

There was a dark room. 

All other ghosts interviewed had never heard of it before. 

All our ghosts agreed it was weird and creepy. 

We are choosing to pretend it didn’t happen. 

Working theory: a hole in time that they fell through. Must find a way to test.

7. Teleporting

part 1)

Ghosts can teleport wherever they want in the world. 

Only the most powerful can teleport a lifer with them (will keep attempting)

part b) 

Our ghosts can pinpoint Julie’s exact location wherever she may be in the world. 

Will be helpful if she is ever kidnapped, Julie however wishes they would stop using said power to find her in gym class.

“I already have find my friend activated” – Flynn had to say on the matter. 

part c) 

Julie can summon the boys to her if she concentrates hard enough. Came in handy when an evil magician tried to kidnap them.

Also possibly how they escaped the dark room, no way to prove or deny this as dad won’t let me eat a bad hotdog to become a ghost.

Working theory: magic of music and family 

See Exhibit d 

See Exhibit e  

[notsoguiltykpop]

Champion Part 10

Jungkook x Reader

Racecar driver / street racer au

Genre: Romance, slow-burn, suspense(?), fluff, slightly smutty later on in the story

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 

Synopsis: You might have gotten your start on the street, but you’ve always had bigger plans. With a new sponsor backing you, you’re all set to work your way up in the motorsport world and make it big.Your dream is to take down Jeon Jungkook, who is currently one of the best drivers in the sport. He doesn’t quite know how he feels about this rookie winning all the races and getting all the attention, but it reminds him why he’s racing in the first place–to be nothing but the best, and leave everyone else in the dust.Things get complicated when he falls head over heels for the competition.

...

The strategy was set, everything planned out as much as possible, and it was looking like you were doomed to lose. You were starting near the back, and the whole team’s morale was low because of it. The garage was unusually silent, lacking the chit-chat that had become the norm before a race. No one was smiling, or even making eye contact if they could avoid it. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked Jimin after pulling him aside. You had accepted your probable defeat that morning, knowing that you’d have to pull off the impossible to stay with the team after today. Starting at the back wasn’t exactly an ideal situation. If you came in last after drawing so much attention to this race and your supposed rivalry with Jungkook, you’d make the whole team look like a joke and Hoseok wouldn’t have any choice other than to drop you.

But you weren’t expecting the rest of the team to be so down about it. 

Jimin grimaced, shrugging. “Hoseok’s been in a shit mood all morning, I’m surprised he hasn’t been onto you like he has us. I’d avoid him if you can.”

It turned out that that wasn’t hard to do at all. Hoseok was everywhere that you weren’t. He talked to the press, he chatted with other teams, and never sought you out. It wasn’t hard to figure out why; he simply had no hope for the race, and if you weren’t winning for the team, there was no reason for him to be there. 

That wasn’t going to stop you from giving it your all, though. You were convinced that there was still a chance you could come out of this okay. Then, as if the sky was taking pity on you, it started to rain.

You were in one of the trailers that were set up as your team’s offices stretching when it started, the pitter-patter on the roof increasingly loud and steady. You zipped your jumpsuit quickly and after a moment's hesitation grabbed your helmet. You left your visor up once outside so you could feel the rain on at least a small part of your face. 

You smiled for the first time that day, closing your eyes and tilting your head up to the sky. You were good in the rain. 

This changed everything, making the pavement unpredictable and forcing drivers to rely entirely on their instincts. And it might just be the miracle you needed. 

The rain stopped abruptly on your face, and you opened your eyes to see the inside of a blue umbrella over you. It took you a split second to remember that your visor was up, just long enough for you to make eye contact with the holder of said umbrella--Jungkook. You slammed it down, and braced yourself for the worst. 

“What are you doing out here?” He looked like he couldn’t stand still, hopping from one foot to the other. His suit was only done up to his waist, the top half hanging limp. He should have been cold with just his undershirt covering his torso, but he didn’t seem bothered.

You said nothing, still unsure if he had recognized you.

“Shouldn’t you be warming up? Talking to your engineer?” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe standing weirdly and looking at the sky like you’re in an 80’s music video is the way you get in the zone?” 

You shook your head and reached for your notepad, but quickly realized that you’d left it in the trailer.

Jungkook must have noticed your fumbling and waved a hand for you to stop. “We both already know it’s the 80’s music video, there’s no need to answer.” A hint of a grin started to pull at his mouth despite his best efforts, and he quickly changed the subject. “Look, I came to find you because Seokjin said you might have something you needed to say to me?”

You started to shake your head, then paused. Was Seokjin trying to give you a hint that you should tell Jungkook now? Surely not. There was too much of a chance that it would throw off Jungkook’s race. Even though a large part of you was sure that now could be the last opportunity to tell him if you wanted to salvage your relationship, there was simply too much at stake. 

“He must have just meant that you were going to wish me luck,” Jungkook concluded, though he didn’t seem too sure of it himself. “In that case, thanks, but I don’t need luck. You’re the one who needs it, and I’m not going to wish you any because that’s not what rivals do.” Jungkook smiled. “Which you would know if you weren’t such a rookie. You could learn a thing or two from me, you know.” 

You had to bite your tongue not to shoot back a smart remark.

The race was a disaster for the majority of drivers. One thing after another kept going wrong for your opposing teams, and the smallest wrong move sent your rivals hurtling off the track. 

Even you lost it for a moment, a rear tire locking up and sending you into a spin. Luckily, the only real damage was to your tires, and you were able to defend your position.

You fought your way up to fourth nearing the end of the race. Jungkook was in second, and looked like he was having trouble with his tires.

You couldn’t see exactly what happened going around the next corner--who had made the mistake or who ran into who first. All you knew was the two leading cars had collided, scattering debris across the track and into the oncoming traffic. You hit something--or perhaps it hit you, technically--that did considerable damage to the front of your car. But you could drive it enough to keep up with the safety car that was sent out on track, which was all that mattered at that point. 

The car in front of you wasn’t as lucky, having punctured a tire in the chaos and having no choice but to pit. 

Which left you in first. 

“Well done,” Taehyung said over the radio, sounding as though he was trying very hard to stay professional but couldn’t quite contain his excitement. “Two more laps to go, the race is yours.” 

“Is everyone alright?” You asked, though you knew it was unlikely Taehyung would know.

“They would’ve stopped the race if it was anything life-threatening,” Was all he responded with. 

You didn’t have a chance directly after the race to check in with anyone. Camera’s flashed, and it felt like a million people were trying to talk to you all at the same time. Yet, it was Yoongi’s voice that stood out when paired with a devilish smile he asked, “How does it feel to win literally just because you didn’t crash?”

You were glad your helmet hid the glare you sent him. 

Pushing past all of the random people who stood in your way, you made your way to your team's miniature headquarters for the weekend.

You were soaked, cold, and angry. 

The race ended behind a safety car. It hardly felt like a victory. Yoongi was right; you didn’t win, you just managed to stay on the damn track. 

You pulled your helmet off as soon as the door was shut behind you, only for it to be thrown open a moment later by Hoseok. 

“What are you doing?” He asked incredulously. “You’re supposed to be out there accepting handshakes and talking–er, writing–to journalists about what just happened. You won a race that Jungkook was in, and you’re–you’re–” He waved his hands around vaguely. “You’re acting like you lost!”

“You call that a win?” You scoffed quietly, undoing the top of your jumpsuit to let it hang around your waist. Hoseok’s frown deepened, but he said nothing. “Was anyone seriously hurt in the crash? Taehyung didn’t sound too sure over the radio.”

Your manager sighed, leaning against the wall next to the door with his arms folded. “From what I’ve heard, it’s nothing serious. Mostly just some minor cuts and bruises. I overheard someone say Jeon got a concussion, but he must be feeling okay if he’s up to texting you every five minutes.“

You paused your frustrated pacing to turn to Hoseok.

"You looked at my texts?”

“Only the lock screen,” He replied mildly. “You must have dropped it in the garage earlier today, Taehyung found it.” He pulled it from his jacket pocket and held it out.

Silence hung in the air while you glanced through the texts Jungkook had sent.

[Jungkook 2:45pm] That doesn’t count as me losing just fyi! It was bad luck

[Jungkook 3:01pm] Y/n tell me ur not planning a party

[Jungkook 3:02pm] Y/n

[Jungkook 3:04pm] dude

[Jungkook 3:04pm] i didn’t lose. I DNF’d. Doesn’t count.

[Jungkook 3:05pm] am i at least invited to the celebration of someone who supposedly beat me? I expect an open bar.

It was nearly four, now. You felt a pang of guilt as though you had been ignoring him. There was no way you could have replied to his texts sooner, but he didn’t know that. You answered with a short “Are you ok?”

“I thought we talked about you two being all buddy-buddy?” Hoseok cleared his throat pointedly. “But you don’t listen to much of what I say, do you?" 

“Hoseok–”

“Forget it,” He didn’t bother to stick around to listen to your excuses, slamming the trailer door behind himself.

[Jungkook 4:09pm] yeah I’m good.

[Jungkook 4:09pm] doc says i just need to take it easy. Seojin’s a little freaked out which is pretty funny. his eye has been twitching for the last hr.

[Jungkook 4:13pm] so are we partying or what?

You chuckled, shaking your head at your phone. Jungkook really was something else.

[You 4:14pm] Nah not really feeling up to it. Rain check?

You needed to make things right with Hoseok, which meant going back out there and making an appearance for the press. 

After zipping your jumpsuit back up and securing your helmet, you stepped back outside. Yoongi was doing some kind of live show directly in front of your trailer, and he spotted you before you could change your mind and run away again. 

“…And what a perfect coincidence that you’re here!” He said as he caught your arm and pulled you lightly into the shot. You didn’t bother trying to get away. This was what Hoseok wanted, for you to stand there and let people talk at you. “We were just discussing your incredible dumb luck.”

You had a long day ahead of you. 

Before you left, you’d satisfied every journalist, signed hats, and taken pictures with what felt like half of the people in the paddock. Hoseok hadn’t been any help whatsoever, leaving without a word after an hour. When you finally dragged your feet into your house, you wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep. 

But Hoseok’s sleek mercedes-benz was parked in front, and something told you he wasn’t there to talk to Jimin. 

Cold food was left on the stove as though it’d been forgotten about, along with an untouched bowl on the table. 

You found Jimin and Hoseok in the living room, with Jimin chewing his nails and avoiding looking directly at Hoseok. 

“What’s up?” You asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice. “You disappeared on me today.” 

Hoseok’s eyes slid from where he’d been glaring at his phone over to you slowly. “You’re suspended,” He said lowly. 

“I’ll leave you two to discuss,” Jimin said abruptly, standing to leave. He patted your arm on his way out. You couldn’t blame him for wanting out of the situation, but part of you wanted to make him stay so you wouldn’t have to face Hoseok alone. 

“I don’t understand,” You made your way over to sit across from Hoseok. “I won today. I interacted with reporters, I was social–”

“When, exactly, were you going to tell me about the Coldwater situation?” He interrupted, his voice ice cold. 

You felt like the floor had dropped from under you. “I can explain,” You started. “Please, let me explain.”

“Jimin already tried arguing the whole blackmailed story,” Hoseok replied flatly. “What I don’t get is why you decided not to tell me, if it’s true. I might’ve been able to help. Or we could have come up with a plan to reveal your identity earlier than we had originally thought. We could have figured something out. But now…” He dragged a hand over his face. He looked tired, haggered, as though this one conversation had taken every bit of energy out of him.

“I thought I could handle it,” The words felt hollow as you said them.

“No,” Hoseok shook his head. “You thought you could get away with it. There’s a difference.” You weren’t sure how to respond to that. “I’m indefinitely suspending you from the team.”

You could feel panic rising, and you tried to take a breath to calm yourself. “No. I made a mistake, and I’m so, so sorry. But I’ll make it up to you. I won today, I’m good for the team.

Hoseok’s expression didn’t change. “The only reason I’m not terminating the contract right now is because you just won.” He shook his head. “When we met, I told you my conditions were honesty, and no more illegal activity. I needed to know I could trust you, above anything else. And clearly, I can’t.” He shrugged, standing from the couch. He suddenly didn’t even seem angry anymore, just disappointed and resigned. “I’ll let you know when I decide what further action I’ll be taking. Don’t bother to show up for practice on Monday.” 

After Hoseok was gone, you stood slowly, hardly even aware of what you were doing. 

“Y/n…” Jimin hovered in the doorway, looking as lost as you felt. “He’ll come around.”

“I’m going for a drive,” You muttered, stepping past him. 

“Y/n,” He tried again. “Give it some time. Think about it from Hoseok’s perspective, it’s a lot to take in. But he’ll understand once he has a chance to think it all over.”

But you could tell from his tone he was just as scared of the future as you were. 

You didn’t plan to drive to Jungkook’s house. You got on the highway on autopilot, and went wherever felt right until you found yourself only a block away. Even then, you weren’t planning to see him until you realized it would be creepy to have driven all the way there only to sit in your car across the street. His lights were on, so you knocked once, twice. Just when you were about to call it a night and leave, he opened the door. 

“Hey…” Jungkook paused, as though waiting for you to explain. “I wasn’t expecting… Did you text?” He glanced at his phone as he spoke to check it. He looked sleepy, and you wondered if you’d woken him up. Above his right temple was a bruised cut with two stitches.

“No,” You shook your head, suddenly feeling like you should have just sat in your car and been weird. “I just…Sorry, it’s late. I should go.”

Jungkook blinked owlishly at you. “It is late. You should stay.” He stepped out of the way for you to come in, then waved for you to follow him. He stretched and yawned loudly as he went. "There’s leftover pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry.” 

Jungkook had apparently been half-trying to play a zombie apocalypse video game, too tired to get past the level but too awake to sleep. You could relate to that feeling; you yourself were exhausted, both mentally and physically, but you knew if you tried to sleep now you’d lay staring at the ceiling until morning. He switched the game to multiplayer and tossed you a controller before asking; “Is everything alright?”

You focused on the game for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer. “Not really. But I’d rather not think about it.” 

Jungkook frowned slightly, but let it drop for the moment. You were sitting on his bed side by side in front of the slightly ridiculously large screen on his wall. "I watched the playback of the crash,” You noted as Jungkook’s avatar fell off the rooftop only to respawn a moment later. “It looked pretty bad. Are you really okay?”

“You didn’t see it live?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow teasingly, but you suspected it was a genuine question.

“I missed it in all the commotion,” This, at least, was true. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Jungkook smirked. “Did you come over because you were worried about me?”

“I was worried,“ You admitted. "But no, that’s not the only reason.” You were trying to be more honest with him, even if you didn’t much like it.

Jungkook sighed and leaned back on the pillows, ignoring the game completely now. “I’ll be fine. The doctor said I could go home, so…” He shrugged. “My reserve driver will have to drive in my place for a race or two, but I’ll be back to a hundred percent by the rematch.” 

“Rematch?” You repeated, now setting down your own controller to look at him.

Jungkook nodded as though it was obvious. “I didn’t win today. But,” He held a finger up. “There’s no way 52 is satisfied with the result either. We need to race one on one to settle this.”

“Jungkook…” You started, not sure yet where you were going with this. As the situation currently stood, it didn’t look likely that you’d be able to race him a second time–or anyone else, for that matter. "That… Might be a difficult thing to talk Hoseok into. And anyway, how could you arrange a race with just two teams…?”

Jungkook shrugged, unconcerned. “We could do it for charity. I don’t see any reason why Hoseok wouldn’t agree to it.” He tilted his head to the side. “Unless there’s something I don’t know?”

You shook your head somewhat unconvincingly. There was a mutual understanding between you that, though you joked about the rivalry between Jungkook and ‘52’, actual team politics and strategies were off limits. Up to this point, Jungkook had never asked you who 52 was, what was going on within the team, or what Hoseok’s greater plans were because it would put you in an uncomfortable spot.

“I ran into Hoseok while leaving the paddock,” Jungkook mused. “He seemed pretty angry for a guy whose team just won a race I participated in.”

“You realize how egocentric that last bit made you sound?”

“Is it egocentric if it’s true?” He countered without missing a beat. You hoped he would take the bait and get distracted, but he didn’t fall for it this time. “I wasn’t the only one who noticed how weird he was acting. There’s a rumor he and 52 had some kind of falling out.”

It was easy to forget sometimes just how perceptive Jungkook could be. You couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t an outright lie or would give too much away, so you picked up the game controller again.

“Does that mean it’s true?” He asked. If anything, your silence seemed to have made him more interested. 

“Can we just not talk about Hoseok’s driver?” It came out harsher than you intended, and Jungkook looked taken aback. “What difference does it make to you, anyway? It’s not like 52 being stupid and pissing Hoseok off is going to affect you.”

“I thought you liked 52,” Jungkook’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What did he do?”

“Ruined everything,” You muttered. The game wasn’t fun anymore, and this wasn’t the distraction you had hoped it would be. You took a shaky breath and looked down at the controller in your hands rather than at Jungkook. “That fucking asshole 52 ruined everything.”

You were very aware of Jungkook’s gaze on you, and the fact that he could probably tell that you were holding things back. 

It was over, you realized. There was no reason for you to continue lying to him about being 52.

“Jungkook, 52 and I--” You closed your eyes. It was like a bandaid, you just needed to rip it off. Except the pain wouldn’t go away after you ripped it. You could lose Jungkook completely, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that right now. 

“Did 52 hurt you?” Jungkook interrupted as though he said the words as soon as it occurred to him. 

You opened your eyes to look at him. You were so caught up in your own thoughts it took a second to comprehend, and Jungkook took your pause as confirmation. 

“If he did, I swear to god, I’ll figure out where the fuckwad lives and--” He was halfway out of bed as he spoke, though you weren’t sure where he thought he was going in his t-shirt and boxers at 3am. 

“It’s nothing like that!” You couldn’t help the slight laugh as you caught his arm and pulled him back onto the bed. You knew it shouldn’t be funny, and tried to fix your face into something serious. “You didn’t even let me finish my sentence!” 

Jungkook didn’t look entirely convinced, but he settled back down next to you against the pillows.

“52 and I...Aren’t getting along too well right now. Maybe you should ask Hoseok what happened.” You hated that you couldn’t get the words out. But you couldn’t lose Jungkook tonight, too. “Can we talk about something else?”

Jungkook looked anything but satisfied with your response, but shrugged with one shoulder before rolling onto his side so he was facing you, his head propped on his hand. “Sure.”

You scooted closer to him, getting comfortable while you tried to think of how to phrase your next question. “You’ve talked about retiring from racing since we first met,” You started, and Jungkook nodded. “But you’ve never really told me why. I don’t understand why anyone would willingly leave the sport. Especially someone who loves it as much as you do.”

Jungkook chewed his lip for a moment. “I do love the sport,” He agreed, a small smile flickering across his face. “And I think I always will. But it’s not really a part-time thing, you know?”

You shook your head no.

“There are other things I want to do, and I don’t really have time as long as I’m a driver.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you planning to do, then?”

Jungkook cleared his throat, glancing away from you. “You’re going to laugh.”

“I won’t.” 

“You will.”

“Jungkook.”

He reluctantly met your eyes once more. “I want to open a lamb skewer restaurant.” 

“Well. That’s very specific,” You said, trying very hard not to laugh. It wasn’t that his dream was funny so much as the way he was telling you about it. His ears were red, and he was pouting ever so slightly.

“I knew you’d laugh,” He complained. 

“I’m not laughing,” You lied, unable to hold in your giggles. “I think it’s a great idea. It’s just,” You interrupted yourself to catch his lips with your own, one hand traveling up to run through his hair. “You told me yourself that you can’t cook.” 

Despite himself, Jungkook grinned back. ���I said I want to own the restaurant, not be the chef.” He moved so his legs straddled one of yours, his body tantalizingly close to your own without actually touching you. 

“And I suppose you’ll have a wall dedicated to displaying all of your trophies?” You asked. You wanted him closer to you, but he already knew that. You could see it in the glint in his eyes. He wanted you to make the first move.

And just like that, it became an unspoken competition. 

“Please,” Jungkook lowered himself just a hair, leaning in as though he was about to kiss you but stopping when his lips barely brushed yours. “I’d need more than just one wall for all of my trophies. And then I wouldn’t have room for the stage.”

“The stage?” You repeated, eyebrows raised. “Why do you need a stage in a lamb skewer restaurant?” One of your hands ghosted up his arm and down his abdomen to pull at the hem of his t-shirt without quite touching him. It ended up bunched around his shoulders, but he didn’t take it off.

“For the live bands,” He smirked, one hand leaving where it had been propped near your head to slowly make its way down your side. You could just barely feel his fingers through your jeans as they traced their way down your thigh and back up painfully slow. “And the stand-up comedians... And open mic nights…” You could see his resolve beginning to melt.

“You’re not really going to have open mic nights, are you?” You teased, then lowered your voice to a whisper. “What if someone covers a nickelback song?”

Jungkook actually snorted at that. “That would be unfortunate. Which is why open mic nights would be a twice-a-year thing, and I’d pre-approve the song list.”

His lips were once more mere centimeters away, just barely out of reach. 

“You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” You asked, all joking leaving your voice. 

“I have,” He nodded, his hair tickling your forehead as he did so. There was something akin to worry in his eyes, and you reached up to brush his hair away from his face. 

“I think your restaurant sounds wonderful,” You assured him, and you noticed an immediate change in his facial expression. Any sign of worry was gone, replaced by a playful glint in his eyes. 

“You won’t think I’m boring if I leave the sport?”

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to be boring.”

“So true,” Jungkook leaned forward and finally kissed you slowly. You pulled him closer, reveling in his warmth. 

When you pulled away briefly to breath, you couldn’t help but mutter, “I totally just won that, by the way.” 

Jungkook laughed, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. “Somehow, I’m okay with that.”

...

A/N Omg thank you for sticking around to read this! Hopefully I'll be updating a little more frequently now. What are your thoughts? Feelings? Let me know! I absolutely love hearing from you guys--your wonderful feedback is what makes this so much fun. Thank you so much for reading! And I hope you're all taking care of yourselves and staying safe. I'm here for you guys! If you ever need an ear to listen, someone to rant to, or anything else, my inbox is always open! I love you all <3

[argylemnwrites]

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Chapter 17

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~5100

Rating: R (language, implied inability to consent)

Summary: Drake goes to Ramsford while he figures out his next steps, Leo has something to ask Liam, and Hana is at her wit’s end

Author’s Note: I’m just gonna throw a trigger warning here that there is an interaction in this chapter where a man is clearly looking to engage in sexual activity with a woman who is not able to consent at that time. There is no actual sexual assault or violence, but it’s the type of thing that may hit close to home, so I thought I’d give some warning. It’s in the third and final “section” of this chapter if you wish to avoid it.

This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

“Hello?” Drake called out, glancing around as he stepped into the foyer of the Ramsford estate. He wasn’t surprised that there wasn’t any staff to greet him, given the Beaumont’s current financial situation, but he figured he should announce his presence somehow. Not just lurk around until someone found him. He was pretty sure he was the only person invited for dinner tonight, after all.

He hadn’t really wanted to come for this dinner, but when Savannah had called him, excited that he was still around and inviting him over now that she was settled at Ramsford, he just couldn’t bring himself to say no. He’d seen so little of his sister over the past couple of years, and even before then, he’d always found it hard to tell her “no.” So here he was, hoping that Maxwell and Bertrand had enough whiskey to get him through the evening.

“Drake, is that you?” Maxwell’s voice called out, echoing through the halls as he rounded the corner, “Hey, glad you could make it!”

“Yeah…” Drake trailed off as Maxwell came over. Maxwell was clearly going in for the hug, but thought better of it when he saw the look on Drake’s face. 

“So, yeah. Dinner might be a bit yet. Savannah is cooking but Bertrand has decided to ‘supervise’ as this is ‘their first dinner party’ as a couple or whatever. I wandered through the kitchen about 20 minutes ago, and it was not exactly going great.”

Drake just shook his head, “I hardly qualify as a dinner party.”

“Yeah, well… try telling Bertrand that. Do you want a drink while we wait for whatever the hell we’re gonna get for dinner at some point?”

“What do you think?”

“Right, stupid question. Come on, I’ll get you some whiskey.”

Drake followed Maxwell through the halls to the private lounge and took a seat on one of the couches as Maxwell wandered over to the bar cart and preparing a whiskey on the rocks and a glass of white wine before he joined Drake on the opposite sofa.

“So, has Riley been having a good time with Hana?”

“What?”

“Hana told me they were going to check out Riley’s favorite place for Chinese take out today and that she was going to see how it stacked up to authentic Cantonese cuisine. I was wondering if you’d heard the final verdict.”

“Maxwell, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Hana’s in New York,” said Maxwell, squinting slightly as he took a sip of his wine. “Drake, did you not know that?”

“No, she uhh… didn’t tell me that.” Drake downed his whiskey in one, pushing himself up off the couch and stalking over the liquor. That information warranted another drink.

Hana was in New York with Riley. Riley couldn’t be bothered to text him, but she was taking Hana out and keeping Maxwell posted about everything they were up to, apparently. It just was him she wanted nothing to do with. 

It was like every other time, and this time, he knew it was his own damn fault that she left him. He’d fucked everything up. He drank his second glass in one swig. He just wanted to go back to his quarters and be alone with his pain, but he could hardly duck out of a family dinner where he was the only guest. Pouring himself one more whiskey, he took a deep breath and rejoined Maxwell. He was gonna have to get through this night somehow.

Maxwell glanced up, tapping his finger on the side of his wine glass as Drake sat down. The silence was tense for a few moments before Maxwell broke it. 

“Drake, I wasn’t trying to pry, I swear. I’m just worried about Riley and I thought maybe-”

Drake jerked his head up and stared at Maxwell, “Why are you worried about Liu?”

Maxwell tensed for a second, “Look, I’m not trying to butt in where it’s not my business or anything-”

“Really? Since when have you had any sense of boundaries?” Drake snapped

“Hey! I’ve given you plenty of space! I get that you and Liam had to work through your… issues, or whatever. But she’s like my sister, and I have a right to be worried about her, too!”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s all my fucking fault. I already feel like shit about it so-”

“Oh come on, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“Then what’s your fucking point?”

Maxwell let out a sigh, “I’m just trying to make sure that both of my friends are doing okay and not isolating themselves and being all lonely and mopey and deciding that it’s better if no one knows that they are actually hurting.”

Drake took a deep breath, “Since when did you get so fucking insightful?”

“My greatest strength is that everyone underestimates me. It let’s me see things,” he said with a shrug.

“Huh,” was all Drake could muster, taking another sip of his whiskey.

“So, if you can promise not to jump down my throat, I’d like to ask how you are.”

Drake grimaced, “I’ll be fine. It just sucks right now because all I can do is wait for the other shoe to drop.”

Maxwell frowned at that. “What do you mean?”

“Well, as you could probably guess from my reaction, Riley’s basically ghosting me. I’m just waiting for the inevitable breakup text.”

“Or, she’s mopey and isolating herself, you know, like I said,” countered Maxwell.

“I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.”

“So go back and talk to her. The people behind the attacks are behind bars and you, Liam, and Olivia all said that things are looking good from that standpoint. You took care of what you needed to here, time to go take care of things with one Riley Liu.”

Drake shook his head, “It’s not that simple, Maxwell. I don’t even know if she wants me there.”

“I never said it would be simple. But you don’t know what’s going through her mind right now, right? So maybe she wants you there with her or maybe she doesn’t. There’s really only one way to find out.”

Drake bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself to keep calm. He couldn’t let Maxwell know that he didn’t know if he could deal with the possibility of face to face rejection from Riley. Not now, after he’d come to think that she might be the one woman who would stay. When Savannah left, it had nearly broken him completely. If he had to watch Riley leave him, too… well, he didn’t know if he could handle it.

“Hey,” called out Maxwell, forcing Drake to divert his attention away from his spiraling thoughts, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think she wants to leave you. But even if she does, wouldn’t it be easier to move forward knowing you did everything you could to try and make things right?”

After a few seconds, after processing the fact that Maxwell could apparently read him like a book, all Drake could say in response was, “Damn, you’re right.”

Maxwell smiled, “I’m fucking insightful, remember?”

Drake laughed at that, raising his glass to clink against Maxwell’s.

After taking a sip of his wine, Maxwell pulled out his phone, “Speaking of being insightful, what do you think the odds are that dinner preparations have completely fallen off the rails?”

“I’m going with about an 80% chance.”

“My thoughts exactly. So shall we preemptively order some pizza?”

Drake smiled and nodded as Maxwell called the restaurant he always used for late night sustenance at Beaumont Bashes. It was strange to think that Maxwell was now a close enough friend that he felt okay about talking with him about anything he was feeling. More than that, he realized that he had misjudged Maxwell a lot over the years. But if the past year had taught him anything, it was that Maxwell had pretty decent awareness when it came to a lot of things. He’d seen the value in Riley before any of them, after all. 

Drake knew he probably should apologize for some things he’d said in the past, both to and about Maxwell, but maybe bringing up his past intolerance of the man was not the best way to go. So instead, he waited until Maxwell finished placing the order and hung up the phone before he got up and walked over to the liquor once again.

“You need a refill, best friend roomie?”

The subsequent shriek of joy was loud enough to bring Savannah and Bertrand running.

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

Liam sighed, rubbing his eyes as he scanned through the final reports on all the interrogations. Starting tomorrow, some the initial hearings were happening in public court. Liam had pushed for expedited trials, knowing that the people had been through enough with these attacks and didn’t need the court proceedings to drag at a glacial pace. Of course, this meant he was giving himself less time to develop a firm grasp on the details of the three men whose trials were starting this week for when the press inevitably asked for comments. Still, he knew the prosecutors had it worse, and he was grateful the team of attorneys had agreed with his plan yesterday, even agreeing to meet with Bastien’s agents on a weekend.

He’d slept in his office last night, reviewing the files well past midnight. When he woke up with his head hanging over the arm of his sofa, he’d scurried off to the Monarch’s Quarters, quickly getting freshened up before heading back to his office. He chose his desk this time, hardly able to risk drifting off to sleep again, but it was still hard to stay focused. The reports were full of so many conflicting details, it was hard to keep who said what straight, and he’d been at if for hours at this point. He was about to get up and stretch his legs for a few minutes, but heard a couple of knocks on the door. Before he could call out a greeting, the door swung open, Leo walking straight in and over to the side cupboards.

“Why hello, Leo. Please, come in.”

Leo paused to turn to Liam. “Why, thanks brother!” he said in an exaggerated manner, winking as he looked back towards the wall units, “I was thinking of fixing myself a drink; would you like one?” 

Liam glanced at the clock on the wall. “Leo, it’s not even noon,” he chastised, “and you won’t find the whiskey in that cupboard.”

Leo stopped rifling through to cupboard and walked over to Liam’s desk, a wide grin spread across his face. As he plunked himself down in one of the chairs facing Liam, he raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. After a moment, Liam sighed and opened the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out the Highland Park whiskey and two glasses.

“Keeping it close at hand, nice. I have to say, I like your style. Dad always kept his booze tucked behind the books. Your way is much wiser,” Leo said, accepting the glass from Liam.

“So what brings you by my office? We haven’t seen much of you around the palace the past couple of days.”

“Well, it seemed like things were pretty hectic around here. I thought I would give you some space while you dealt with all the official business. Besides, the casinos worry that something has happened to me if I’m around for more than two days and don’t make an appearance,” he joked. “Anyway, I just came by to let you know I’m flying out tomorrow.”

Liam took a sip of whiskey and nodded. He’d been expecting this since the funeral. He was actually kind of surprised Leo had stuck around Cordonia as long as he had. “Where are you heading this time?”

“I’m spending the next week in Havana, then it’s on to Rio.”

“Of course. Well, you know you’re welcome back anytime. Keep in touch, okay?”

“Yeah…” Leo said, trailing off and looking down at the surface of the desk. It seemed odd to Liam. Usually, when Leo said he was leaving, he appreciated a light-hearted goodbye. Liam figured years of Father attempting to guilt him into staying had taken their toll, so he always tried to show Leo that he understood his need to explore, to go elsewhere. But today, that seemed to bother him, and Liam wasn’t sure why.

“Is something wrong, Leo?”

Leo paused for a moment before he spoke, “You’re doing okay, right?”

“Of course.”

“I mean, you’re okay with the fact that I don’t spend much time in Cordonia, right?”

“Where is this coming from, Leo?”

Leo shook his head, “You don’t have to pretend you didn’t hear what Drake said to me the other day. I know you overhead us.”

Liam nodded slowly. He hadn’t heard everything, but he’d heard enough. And while the fact that Drake had mentioned being torn away from his life had been of more interest to Liam at that time, the fact that Drake had told Leo that he was a bad brother was also something that had stuck in his mind.

“It didn’t seem like the type of statement you’d put much stock in, if I’m being honest.”

Leo tensed at that. “He called me a shitty brother, Liam! Of course it stuck with me! Do you think so little of me that you thought I wouldn’t care about that?”

“Of course not. I just thought that you knew better than to hold Drake’s anger as a source of universal truth, not to mention you never seemed to mind being told you weren’t living up to expectations in this building.”

Leo gave Liam a small smile, “So, you don’t think I’ve been a bad brother to you?”

“No, I don’t feel that way.”

“But Drake was right. I haven’t really been around, I tend to get caught up in my own interests. I definitely have failed you in some ways.”

Liam shook his head, “I don’t expect you to care for me in the same fashion as Drake. He has his way of doing things, you have yours.”

“He called me your drinking buddy.”

Liam chuckled at that, “That’s an interesting perspective. It lacks some nuance, but yes, I suppose you do get me to let go of certain stressors temporarily by encouraging me to indulge in a variety of vices. It’s helpful at times, so I wouldn’t be so dismissive of it.”

Leo just shook his head, “Come on, you don’t need to shield me. If you need to get pissed at me, I get it.”

“Why would I need to get pissed at you?”

“I abdicated, for Christ’s sake! I left you with all the responsibility.”

“And didn’t I encourage you to take that course of action?”

“Yes, but Drake said-”

“Forget what Drake said. His interpretation of our relationship is highly irrelevant, and Drake is going to think what he’s going to think. I am telling you, I do not resent you for abdicating. Being Crown Prince was killing you; you were miserable. I love you, and I want to see you happy. How could I ever hold you taking an action that greatly improved your happiness against you?”

“But I want to see you happy, too.”

“I know you do. I presume that’s why you are very willing to take the full blame for indiscretions conducted by either of us.”

Leo scoffed a little, “Sure, when we were little.”

“And now. I heard Regina had some choice words for you after our night of drinking before the funeral.”

“She said she was amazed that after all this time, I still found a way to be a bad influence on you,” Leo said with a little smile.

“Exactly, and you let her believe that. Leo, you’ve always shown you care about me in your own way. I’ve never felt like you didn’t love me just because we want very different things out of life.”

“Still, the weight of the crown-”

“Is something that I don’t see as a barrier to my long-term happiness. It’s a responsibility, sure, but I am honored that our people trust me as their leader.”

Leo stared at Liam for a few seconds before throwing the whiskey back and finishing his drink. “You’re a good king, you know that right?”

Liam smiled gently, “Thank you, Leo. I appreciate that.”

“And I don’t just mean better than I would have been. You are a good leader. Cordonia is lucky to have you.”

“Thank you. But I think you would have been a better king than you give yourself credit.”

Leo just laughed, “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that point.” He stood to leave and strolled over to the door, but before he opened it, he spun back to face Liam.

“Do you mind if I give you a piece of advice?”

Liam inclined his head, “I would be a bad king if I couldn’t handle friendly advice.”

“Right, well this more personal than professional.”

“If it’s about Madeleine, give your history, that seems like a rather awkward topic-”

“Nah, it’s more general than that. Just... you need to be selfish sometimes. Not often, let’s say once a week. But you need to do something, no matter how small, that’s just for you.”

“Leo…”

“Promise me you’ll at least consider it. Remember, I love you, so that means I like seeing you happy. And I know you well enough that you might forget about your own happiness if things get hectic. So add it to your schedule or something, but remember, once a week, one thing, just for you.” And with that he was out the door.

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

Hana felt... well, the only way to describe it was gross. She knew that her plan for the evening was not something that was completely acceptable, morally speaking. But she hadn’t known what else to do.

All weekend, Riley had been completely uninterested in talking about anything of substance. She’d listened to Hana just fine and told plenty of amusing anecdotes. However, anytime Hana asked her how she was doing or if she needed to talk about anything, Riley had just brushed her off, saying she was fine before suddenly remembering a story about a funny customer or something of that sort. It was always lighthearted and superficial. There was never one iota of depth to anything she said. It had been shopping and restaurants and tourist attractions before Riley scurried off to get ready for work both Saturday and Sunday, and Hana was done with it. 

Maybe she wasn’t being fair. Both Saturday and Sunday evenings, when she’d been alone, trying to devise a strategy to encourage Riley to open up, she’d come to the realization that most of the weight that she’d felt in their friendship had come from her opening up, not so much the other way around. While Hana had discussed her distorted dynamic with her parents, her failed engagement and romantic inexperience, and her very lonely and isolated childhood, there was very little Riley had told her. She briefly mentioned that her father was long gone and her mother dead, but it had been Maxwell who told her that her mother had died of a heroin overdose. She wasn’t even sure if Riley had any family beyond that, any aunts, uncles, cousins, or grandparents. And Riley certainly hadn’t confided in Hana about her growing feelings for Drake at any point during the social season or Liam and Madeleine’s engagement tour.

The fact that her friendship with Riley appeared to be fairly lopsided filled her with both pain and guilt. It certainly hurt knowing that the first person in her life she saw as a best friend had probably not felt so connected with her. But more than that, she felt guilty for depending so much on Riley for emotional support and strength without offering anywhere near enough in return. But tonight, that was going to change.

Hana had tried being friendly and open. She’d tried asking gentle questions. She’d point blank asked Riley if she’d heard from Drake while they were at the Guggenheim. But Riley had deflected every single attempt. So tonight, Hana was getting her drunk. She hated thinking of it that way. It sounded so predatory, so malicious. But her intent was merely to use a bit of alcohol to help Riley feel comfortable enough to actually let her guard down and communicate openly. 

Her plan had been simple to execute, at least initially. Riley was off Monday, and given her apparent desire for all things fun and frivolous, it had been very easy to convince her that while in New York, Hana really wanted a little taste of the nightlife. Riley had been thrilled, offering to lend Hana club wear and taking them to a small little lounge after dinner before they headed to a nightclub. She hadn’t been out dancing in ages, apparently, and was very enthusiastic about the idea.

At first, it had gone exactly as Hana had hoped, with Riley downing vodka sodas while Hana just sipped on an amaretto sour as they sat in a little booth at the lounge. When they’d paid the cover to enter the nightclub, the bass from dance tracks resonating through Hana’s entire body, Riley appeared to be tipsy. Hana figured a couple more drinks, an hour or so of dancing, and then they could head out and actually talk.

What she hadn’t accounted for was the swaths of men who didn’t seem content to let them dance without butting in, invading their personal space without even saying hello. All of these men came with offers to buy them drinks, and while Hana always declined, Riley seemed keen on taking every single one of them up on it, wandering over to the bar time and time again, dragging Hana along with her.

Currently, Hana was standing there, watching as a tall man with very blond hair ordered Riley yet another Long Island Iced Tea. Riley was well passed the point of tipsy and was incredibly intoxicated, leaning heavily against the bar, the words she was practically yelling over the loud music slurred into a giant mess. The man in question didn’t seem to mind at all, though, handing his credit card over to the bartender.

“Excuse me!” Hana called out, the bartender pausing to look at her.

“Sorry!” yelled the blond man, leaning close to Hana so he could speak directly into her ear, “I didn’t know you were drinking. What do you want?”

Hana just shook her head and rolled his hand off her shoulder, leaning over the bar to speak directly to the bartender, tugging her skirt down as she did so. The length was not something she was used to, and she was feeling self conscious of how high it would ride up her thighs with her movement.

“Cancel that Long Island Iced Tea, please. She and I are leaving.”

The bartender glanced between the three of them, but after just a couple of seconds, he nodded with understanding. Hana then spun towards Riley,  hoping that she would be a cooperative drunk.

“Riley, sweetie,” Hana said, leaning to speak directly in her ear. 

Riley spun to face her, stumbling slightly on her heels as she moved, grabbing Hana’s arm. “Yeah?” she said, a concerning glazed looked to her eyes as she seemed to struggle to meet Hana’s eyeline.

“It’s time for us to leave.”

“I think she can decide if she wants to leave for herself.”

Hana rolled her eyes. She had hoped that the blond man would have moved on, but it seemed like he had set his sights on Riley. Ignoring him, she linked her arm through Riley’s and started to navigate them toward the coat check, but the man grabbed Riley’s wrist and tugged her back towards him.

“Riley, why don’t you tell your friend you’re having a good time and that I can get you home.”

Riley just looked dazed, her gaze unfocused, so Hana stepped forward and tugged her towards her side. “Riley, come on,” she said before looking at the man, “You are a disgusting excuse for a human being if you think that she is in any state to go anywhere with you.”

“Bitch!” the man spat out, but he seemed to decide that having this fight with Hana was not worth his time as he turned away and walked away from the two of them, probably looking for some other woman to ply with alcohol. Shaking her head, Hana wrapped her arm around Riley and moved them towards the exit. When they were waiting for their coats, Riley seemed to gain a little awareness of her surroundings.

“Where’d Peter go?”

Well, Hana had a name for the blond man with ill intentions now. “He had to go, and so do we,” she said, trying to guide Riley’s arms into her jacket.

“Oh,” said Riley, “Is Peter, I mean, where’s he, yeah, you know?”

Hana just blinked, not really having any clue what Riley’s drunken ramblings were supposed to convey. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get a cab back to my hotel.”

Hana was able to shepherd Riley out onto the sidewalk, but when she attempted to flag down a taxi, Riley batted down her arm, almost falling into the gutter in the process.

“No taxi, only three blocks,” she slurred, stumbling away from Hana and down the sidewalk with surprising speed.

“Riley, wait!” Hana cried out, “Where are you going?” But Riley didn’t give any response, so Hana took off after her. Any efforts to redirect her were met with groans and slurred grumbles and complaints, so after a few attempts, Hana just followed along. Riley was clearly on some sort of drunken mission, and Hana was going to be along for the ride, apparently.

It was a tricky route to wherever Riley was going. There were numerous other bars, clubs, and restaurants in this part of the city, and even though it was after midnight, there were still many people on the sidewalk, many of them just as drunk as Riley. Trying to prevent collisions, dodging cat callers, and keeping Riley upright was taking a lot of effort. Hana barely felt like the sidewalk was any less of an overwhelming place of noise and bodies than the dance club. Her ears were ringing and she was exhausted. She just wanted to get Riley safely into a bed and then go to sleep herself.

After a couple of blocks, Riley stopped in front of a small market, veering towards a side door. Hana was about to correct her that not only was the market closed, but that she was trying to enter what was clearly an employee entrance, but Riley fished a set of keys out of her pocket and fumbled with them, trying to unlock the door. At that moment, Hana realized that this door wasn’t to the market, it was to Riley and Drake’s apartment building.

After a couple of tries, Riley got the door unlocked and open, so Hana followed her into what appeared to be a mailroom for the building and then up a flight of stairs. Hana didn’t know what she had pictured for where Drake and Riley lived, but it certainly wasn’t this. She was trying hard not to be judgemental, but she’d never been inside a building so run down. It had probably been an adjustment for Drake compared to living at the palace.

As Hana trudged up several flights of stairs behind Riley, catching her from falling twice, she couldn’t help but think about Drake and Riley, not only living in this building, but in this neighborhood, in this city. Riley she could kind of imagine, out at a different bar or restaurant everyday, trying new foods and drinks, charming different people left and right. She was so bubbly and outgoing and had a definite wild, impulsive streak.

But Drake? Nearly agoraphobic, routine loving, scoffed at the new and unknown Drake? She just couldn’t see it. He would have punched at least five people on their walk back from the club alone. Try as she might, she couldn’t picture him in a place that was so loud and with so many different people. It seemed like the type of thing he would avoid at all costs. She didn’t know what to make of that. Did Drake have some secret, social side that he only let Riley see? Or was he just miserable and surly all the time? Hana felt like it was probably the latter. It made her sad to even think about. Here he had made a grand romantic gesture, moving to be with the woman he loved, and it was probably draining and stressful beyond his wildest dreams.

Eventually Riley turned down a hallway and made her way to a door labeled 4B. She tried to use her keys, but was struggling to figure out which key went into which lock. After a few seconds, Hana stepped up to grab the keys herself, but before she could even offer her help, Riley started crying, sinking to the floor.

“Riley!” she cried out, crouching down and grabbing her shoulders and rubbing circles against them. “It’s okay; I can unlock the door. It’ll be okay.”

“S’not that,” Riley mumbled. “I jus’ wanted t’forget t’night… T’not feel so bad…”

“Shhhh,” hummed Hana, sitting down on the floor next to Riley, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m so lonely. But no one cares,” Riley slurred, head thrown back against the door, “He’s never coming back and I’m gonna always be alone.”

“Riley, plenty of people care about you,” Hana said, trying to provide words of reassurance, but it was like Riley was just giving some sort of emotional speech, and she just kept mumbling the same thoughts over and over again. That she was alone. That she had no one. That everyone would always leave her. So Hana did the only thing she could think to do. She sat there with her, letting her ramble and release her pain. She wasn’t going anywhere, and hopefully that fact would provide at least a little comfort.

Permatag: @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @jamesashtonisbae

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019  @sirbeepsalot  @texaskitten30  @princessleac1  @ladyangel70  @dcbbw @yaushie @octobereighth

Drake x MC only: @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @notoriouscs @butindeed  @addictedtodrakefanfic

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @wickedgypsymoon @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd  @feartheendlesssummer  @ao719  @ooo-barff-ooo​ @sunnyxdazed

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BNHA OC Template

Name: John Roderick Porter

Pronunciation: jon : rod-er-ick : poor-ter

Meaning of Name: John: Biblical Hebrew name meaning Jehovah has been gracious/has shown favor. Roderick: Middle Latin Rodericus; derived from Old High German Hrodrich (Famous Ruler), a compound name composed from the elements hruod (fame) and rik (king, ruler). Porter: English and Scottish roots; occupational name for the gatekeeper of a walled town or city, or the doorkeeper of a great house, castle, monastery, from Middle English porter ‘doorkeeper’, ‘gatekeeper’.

Hero/Villain Name: Kingslayer

Nicknames: Scip, prince, immortal douchebag

History of Nicknames: Scip is the slang used by the SCP Foundation to describe an anomalous object, person, or place. This is always connotated in the form of SCP-[Insert SCP Number Here]. Prince was given to him as a shortened version of his self-proclaimed nickname of “The Painted Prince”. Immortal Douchebag; this nickname should really explain itself.

Aliases: Mr. Death, Agent Porter, Captain, the Grim Reaper

Nationality: American (Ex Patriot)

Affiliation: SCP Foundation; SCP Foundation Ethics Committee; The Cult of Jashin

Student Number: N/A because he is a teacher.

Quirk: Quirkless. His abilities are not the result of a quirk. They were obtained through anomalous means.

Anomalous Abilities: Reincarnated by the god of death (Jashin) in order to follow His will with the myriad of siblings he has that also inhabit this world. He is invulnerable to physical damage and upon offering a blood offering, (usually his own heart by cutting it out of his chest), to be blessed by Jashin, he may access a heightened state that excels his physical capabilities to rival All Might’s. The heightened state will only last as long as the heart he as offered stays beating. As a new heart regenerates within his chest, the heart outside will gradually decay. When the new heart has fully regenerated, he no longer has his powerup. He is experienced with the use of most firearms, several forms of martial arts, including bladed weapons training, from his centuries of service to the Foundation.

Birthday and Astrology Sign: [REDACTED]

Birthplace: [REDACTED]

Death Date: [REDACTED]

Death Place: [REDACTED]

Age: ~ 475 - 500

How old does he look: Mid-Twenties

Mental Age: 12-50 (it depends on the kind of mood he’s in)

Gender: Cis-Male

Orientation/Sexuality/Preference: Prefers Alternian men. Humans began to bore him after so many failed relationships. On his first try with an Alternian, there was immense friction (giggity) but the two of them eventually learned to love and crave one another’s company through and through. (Total Bottom Bitch but still masc.)

Appearance:

Eye Color: Neon Pink

Eye Shape: Average/Round

Do they wear contacts/glasses: Both; he will keep a pair of regular brown eyed contact lenses if he is feeling a need to blend in with less effort. Glasses are more for the fact that he loves how fashionable and hates that he actually needs them.

Hair: Bleach/Bone white. Kept in a neat and tidy undercut with the hair always styled back. Light stubble on his face as well, (slightly lighter than Aizawa).

Weight: 86.2 kg

Height: 180.3 cm

Body Build: Toned/Lean. He has slight disgust for people who take their muscle masses too far. Looking like a Greek god is one thing, but it is an entirely different issue for those who “go beyond”.

Body Shape: Elongated Downward Trapezoid

Complexion: Fair skin, no wrinkles despite his [REDACTED] age.

Cup Size: [REDACTED] (lol)

Blood Type: [REDACTED]

Handedness: Right handed. (Sidenote): Prefers a bladed weapon over firearms or fists but will use the firearm if he’s in a hurry or his hands if he wishes to experience the intimacy of a kill if it’s personal.

Hand Type: Average Sized/Proportional to his body. (Practiced Hands).

Nails: Clean, Well Maintained/Manicured.

Movement:

How does he walk: Carries himself well, walks with a purpose. Typically tries to keep an average pace as he feels that if he is moving too quickly it will likely raise suspicion.

Posture: Tall/Imposing, vulnerable when he is with his troll husband.

Flexibility: Can do all sorts of things with his body.

Voice: Booming when needed, (used to train recruits). Can sing relatively well if he’s had a decent amount of liquor. Not too deep but not too high pitched either.

Speech Mannerisms: None, he is very good at orating, especially since he is a teacher at UA. Orally gifted. (Approved by Arcita Porter).

Scars: “Y-Shaped” autopsy scar, outer/inner arms and legs are riddled with cut marks from sacrificing. Back is covered in whipping scars as well as deep scratch scars from his troll hubby.

Birthmarks: None

Piercings: Ears, does not wear anything in them anymore. Had snake bites when he was much, much younger, but the holes have filled in these days.

Tattoos: Inner right forearm where scars are not as prevalent; inverted equilateral triangle inside a circle, the symbol of Jashin. Above and below this tattoo are the names of friends and esteemed colleagues that he has lost throughout the centuries. Inner left forearm has the insignia of the SCP Foundation, along with additional names of friends and colleagues. Arms and body are riddled with various runes (blood, moon, and daedric), all of which are paying religious homage to Jashin.

Facial Structure: (Will be devoting more time to bring you an actual picture of this when my drawing skills improve as I have just started drawing and am nervous about butchering my muse).

Statistics:

Power: 4.5/5.0 Stars A-

Speed: 3.0/5.0 C (Regular) : 4.8/5.0 A (Heightened State)

Technique: 5.0/5.0 A+ (He’s an old geezer he knows what he’s doing).

Intelligence: 4.9/5.0 (Experience far outweighs youth in his case).

Extra Explanation: The man is centuries old. He has no issues getting his hands dirty, as he has a long career of doing so for the sake of the Foundation’s secrecy, and acquisition of scips. He was one of the first pairs of boots on the ground when it came to rounding up individuals with quirks in an effort for his superiors to document and study what was at one time considered an anomalous humanoid. Ironically enough he met his current husband through the same way. He is loyal to the Foundation but he still has enough of a brain to think for himself. As a great agent once said with his dying breath, “You ain’t machines. You ain’t tin soldiers. You’re people, men an’ women who do the shit nobody else can do. An’ people make a choice. There’s a damned big difference between doing’ the job because you were told to, an’ doin’ it because it’s gotta be done.” Although he detests some of humanity’s more harsh decisions, he will still lay himself on the front lines if it means the protection of the masses. He does not usually talk/brag about his faith, but he has no problems answering honest questions about it with honest answers. Questions pertaining to his past/current career however are met with the typical response of “it’s classified”.

The reason he is as old has he is was essentially my own personal compensation since a genetic trait taking over 80% of a population of a number > 7 billion would take an immense amount of time. The reason that history is not nearly as long as it normally would be is because there was an GH-0: Dead Green House Scenario where the Foundation had to utilize the site located in SCP-2000. Shortly before shit hit the fan for the world a new anomalous virus was discovered that allowed humans to obtain superpowers. The virus was immensely contagious and would register as a recessive trait in the human genome that carriers often went unnoticed and were often successful in flying under the Foundation’s radar. All it took was a few of the recessive carriers to live amongst the general populous for the virus to take effect; the Foundation only being able to notice this after it was too late and reluctantly giving up efforts to confine individuals with quirks, a.) because their cells were filled, and b.) because quirks became generally accepted. However, that doesn’t essentially mean that the Foundation chose to stay uninvolved.

Eventually, through manipulation of their allied nations’ governments, they were able to obtain specimens to research on, which allowed them to design and manufacture a variety of products that ran from containment procedures and tools that the police forces of today are often found using, to various types of clothing and products that are aimed to be sold specifically towards individuals with quirks. The profits of these products go straight towards the Foundation’s budget as maintaining a global fascist coalition of a pseudo secretive shadowy organization with little oversight can tend to be quite expensive. (To be clear, none of the aforementioned products have anomalous properties, they are strictly for selling to the masses to increase funding efforts).

Description of Anomalous Abilities: John Porter is a Painted Child of Jashin. This essentially means that he wouldn’t die even if God him/her/themselves was the one pulling the trigger. He has an ability known as a “Heightened State” where through the obtainment and offering of his still beating heart out of his own chest, he is able to access Jashin’s wrath, a power boost that is highly similar to All Might but without the whole huge muscled look. The power boost only lasts as long as the heart outside his body while a new one regenerates within his chest.  

Clothing:

Hero/Villain Costume: Foundation Issued Black Multicam Fatigues and Jacket, 5.11 Tactec Plate Carrier Vest, Black Hiking Shoes, a black skull balaclava, a black multicam baseball hat with a grim reaper patch on the Velcro front, a pair of Oakly Straight Jacket sunglasses with the Fire lenses, a durable over the ear headset with a microphone, a pair of Oakly Pilot gloves, and a military sapper backpack.

Equipment: (All Foundation Issued). Preferred primary weapons of choice are the M4 carbine and the SR-25 designated marksman rifle; preferred sidearm is the HK USP .45. He also has been known to carry a machete, gifted to him by the Unholy Father (Jashin). On occasions it has been known to cause people’s limbs to go missing. Where they go…nobody knows.

Uniform: He is not a student so no uniform. He does however always ensure that he is looking presentable in a three-piece suit. The colors vary as he is very gay and loves to have options.

Preferred Outfit: His husband. (Lol jk, but not really…they screw a lot). He typically likes his stay at home days where he can wear nothing but a tank top and his boxer briefs and lounge around while he is grading papers and homework assignments. Should spontaneous company show up he will wear a bathrobe.

Characteristics:

Personality: John Porter is a man who will happily sit back and observe a conversation before kicking the proverbial door in and offering his two cents. He tries to find a balancing point between giving people honest advice in ways that will not cause emotional trauma.

Meyer’s Brigg’s: ENFP, -A / -T

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Big Five Personality Traits: Gay, Calm, Intelligent, Quiet, Honest

Enneagram: 4 Individualist, Romantic

Most prominent personality trait: His calm demeanor.

Best Traits: Gay and Honesty

Worst Traits: Gay and Honesty

Likes: Clothing, Liquor, Sex with Husband, molding young minds, seeing his husband perform in concert.

Dislikes: People’s useless bullshit, overtly preachy religious people, hero’s who abuse the popularity system for monetary or status gain.

Quirks (little silly things he does): When seated he will shake an empty whiskey glass full of ice to anyone that is walking by and is physically between him and the source of his beverage, (typically a bar).

Fear: Losing control during a heightened state and hurting someone he cares about, (this has happened on more than one occasion).

Hobbies: Visiting a gun range, visiting a winery/whiskey distillery, visiting secret bars, underground fight rings.

Skills/Talents: Can cook a variety of meals from most nationalities. Takes various types of poisons regularly to quickly and easily identify them. He is fluent in thirteen languages: English, Spanish, French, Russian, German, Arabic, Chinese (Mandarin and Cantonese), Japanese, Afrikaans, Swahili, Farsi, Korean, and Italian.

Weaknesses: Arcita’s Iron Will.

Reason to keep on living: He detests humanity on occasions but still swore an oath to protect them by any means necessary.

What their self-image is like: He believes that he is a monster, and that someday all of his past sins will eventually catch up to him. But until that happens, he will try to be as decent of a person as he can while still working for one of the shadiest organizations known to man.

Religious/spiritual faith: Jashinism

How does his faith affect him: It made him an immortal douche bag.

What superstitions does he have?: Needs a cigar and/or cigarette for the end of a mission.

Coping mechanisms: Cooking, shopping, exercising/sex with husband.

Any Life Motto: “We Secure. We Contain. We Protect.” “Praise the Unholy Father.” “Goddammit John, did you take your fucking meds today?”

Favorite things: Fine whiskeys and wines, preferably aged. A one inch grouping from 250+ m away.

Health:

Physical: Flawless

Mental: Medicated

Emotional Stability: Due to a majority of the dirty work that he has had to do for the Foundation over the years, he obviously suffers from PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, and Panic Attacks. (He and his husband Arcita share a bit of the same mental illnesses). He is medicated however and makes sure to be on schedule for taking his meds properly, knowing how bad things could possibly get if he were to slip up.

If faced with a crisis, he immediately fights.

Nutrition: He tries to eat as healthily as possible to ensure that he will have the longest amount of time possible in a heightened state.

Habits: Drinking socially, smoking occasionally.

Family History: (We’re not going to talk about this, mainly because this a muse that has gone through multiple rewrites and I haven’t gotten this far yet)

Background:

0-4: N/A

5-8: N/A

9-11: N/A

12-14: N/A

14-25: N/A

25-Death: N/A

Death-Reincarnation:

Post Reincarnation: Was captured by a Foundation retrieval team. Was able to use a silver tongue and convince them to employ him.

Did he like his upbringing: Yes, he simply regrets how he left things.

How did his upbringing shape him?: Taught him the consequences of making the blatantly wrong choices, hence why he willingly went with the Foundation to work for them. It also gave him a pretty thick skin to face the scrutiny and lack of trust he faced from his colleagues in the beginning of his career.

What did he enjoy most about his childhood: His loving parents.

What did he hate most about his childhood: everything else.

Current Dream: Mold young minds and keep humanity safe.

Long-term goal: To be left the fuck alone until the apocalypse.

Family Background:

Any Friends: Benjamin Miller (Deceased), Dr. Claire Porter(?), Koryn Wong (Deceased), Dir. Alexi Harkov, Ethics Committee Representatives Greene and Harrison, Toshinori Yagi, Shota Aizawa, Grisha Neloth.

Any Family: Husband; Arcita. Son; Novuck. Daughter: Madeline.

Relationships:

OC Family Character: Arcita Porter

·         Status: Married (Husband)

·         How well do they get along?

o   Terrifically now. Although in the beginning the two of them were constantly trying to kill each other. This however slowly devolved into a flourishing kismesitude before mutual suffering brought out more positive feelings towards one another. The result of which was a longer and more sustainable relationship that eventually led to matrimony.

·         What John thinks of Arcita: “He is the man that I would trade my immortality in for and die for again and again and again.”

·         What Arcita thinks of him: “I initially saw him as a challenge. Something I could fight and dominate. These days that attitude still hasn’t changed but the context definitely has.”

·         What John calls Arcita: Papa Lion

·         What Arcita calls John: My Prince

OC Family Character: Madeline Porter

·         Status: Single

·         How well do they get along

o   Madeline hated her father at first because he left her at the hands of the adoption agencies of the US. However, upon discovering why he did this, as she herself is now an employee of the SCP Foundation, she fully understands and no longer resents him. A bonding moment happened when the two of them realized that she shared his anomalous abilities. She now enjoys any time that the two of them can have to hang out together in a secret bar and exchange war stories. She finds these to be therapeutic at times as she utilizes the fact that her father is a wealth of knowledge.

·         What John thinks of Madeline: “She and her brother are my entire world.”

·         What Madeline thinks of him: “I used to hate him, but now I can’t see any reality where he’s not there to help me through my deepest moments of suffering. Nor could I live in a world where he would not be able to walk me down the isle one day. He may not have been there in the beginning, but he has more than made up for that now.”

·         What John calls Madeline: Maddie

·         What Madeline calls John: Dad (what else would she call him?)

OC Family Character: Novuck Porter

·         Status: Single

·         How well do they get along?

o   Novuck and John are loving and endearing to one another, and there is nothing Novuck wouldn’t do for his father and vice versa. That being said, Novuck and John do not get along nearly as well compared to Novuck and Arcita. Interspecies differences aside, Novuck and Arcita simply have a better relationship, as both John and Madeline have a better relationship. Nothing to do with bad parenting.

·         What John thinks of Novuck: “He and his sister are my entire world.”

·         What Novuck thinks of John: “I’m really happy that someone as tough as he is, is one of the two best dads a grub could ever ask for. Considering the circumstances of how he found me, things could have turned out much worse. I’m very happy to have him as a father.”

·         What John calls Novuck: Yard rat. (there’s a story behind this).

·         What Novuck calls John: Dad Lusus / Father Lusus.

Canon Character: Toshinori Yagi

·         Status: Single

·         How well do they get along?

o   Due to the Foundation’s availability of amnestics, the two get along very well.

·         What John thinks of All Might: “All Might was the difference the world needed but I remain reserved to the fact that the peace he’s created is not remotely sustainable.”

·         What Toshinori thinks of John: He is a good friend and a fearsome warrior, but he is also a man who understands where the battlefield ends and where civilized life begins.

·         What John calls Toshinori: Brother

·         What Toshinori calls John: My friend, John (any variations of his name).

Canon Character: Shota Aizawa

·         Status: Single (tho John occasionally tries to set him up with Mic).

·         How well do they get along?

o   They have a steady working relationship, but they do not typically socialize on a personal level.

·         What John thinks of Aizawa: “Aizawa is what I would call a more effective hero. The press constantly gets in the way and has a tendency to butcher whatever they can only make out in front of their faces. They never see the bigger picture and it is foolish to pander to their desires. It is for this reason that the shadows are the place where a hero can truly shine.”

·         What Aizawa thinks of John: “He is a crazy man that should not be allowed to have a firearm.”

·         What John calls Aizawa: Sleepy Kakashi, Broody Spiderman, Sir Sleepsalot.

·         What Aizawa calls John: Crazy bastard, loose cannon, overtly covert.

Canon Character: Enji Todoroki

·         Status: Married (?)

·         How well do they get along?

o   They don’t. John has to ensure that he is not in the same room as this man, else an accidental misfire could occur. To him, Endeavor represents everything that is wrong with the hero system. He would not willingly pull the trigger on the man in front of a room full of witnesses, but if orders came in from his respective Foundation handlers saying that Endeavor needed to go, he certainly wouldn’t hesitate to follow through.

·         What John thinks of Endeavor: “I think he’s a cunt.”

·         What Endeavor thinks of John: “Who is John Porter?”

·         What John calls Endeavor: Fucknut, cuntbag, dipshit, fuck knuckle.

·         What Endeavor calls John: Immortal Douchebag.