#it ain’t easy being green is it Philip?

[notgeorgelucas]

I swear, after seeing those NYCC clips of season 3, I would give anything to see @moringmark do a strip where the kids surround Belos, at which point he grabs a cane and top hat and starts singing “Hello My Baby”.

Because God’s truth that is the first thing that came to mind when I saw him squishing across the panel.

[rreskk]

This is really specific but I have this fantasy (and your writing is absolutely immense, thank you!). I hope you wouldn't mind writing about a reader and North Yankton Trevor?? Like he's breaking into this bank or cash depo place and he sees reader. Bare in mind, he's got his mask on and stuff, but they make eye-contact, and reader was forced onto her knees by Brad and Mikey to rob the cash. But Trevor takes her aside and talks her up (she takes off his mask and falls in love), and soon enough, she's on her knees sucking him off??? IK THIS IS SO CRINGE BUT I NEEEEED

It feels so good writing again. THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST!

Summary: "I heard Stockholm syndrome is very nice at this time of the year."

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

Word count: 1965

“Fuck!”

You snapped your head around at the alarming cry of the security guard, who you had just about witnessed being ruthlessly shot in the head.

There were no words to describe the utter fear. Your hands lost it’s ability to grasp the credit card you were renewing, and oh boy, did you shriek at the appearance of three masked robbers who crashed through them double doors, guns firing at the ceiling. Everyone was forced on their knees with some sort of weapon against their head. You were one of them. It was all so sudden. You only went to renew your credit card date, now you were kneeling in front of this red-jacketed man who had this black mask covering his face – only showing his crystal blue eyes that were fuelled with… Pure coldness.

“Just shoot her in the fuckin’ head, M!” One of the stocky, average heighted criminal growled when noticing your liveliness.

“Woah, hey! We are robbin’ the place, we ain’t killin’.”

“Fuckin’ hurry up and help me then!” Your sights turned to this tall, lean guy who wore a green winters jacket and ski mask. He made eye-contact with you for a few strong seconds. He sensed your anxiety and his eyes squinted with delight.

He’s a sadist prick; your thoughts counted.

“Fuck… Fuck… Fine!” The gun was released from your head but that stocky guy threw you against the wall with the others. He was guarding the hostages while the other two were pestering the money from behind the counters.

You held the credit card close to your hand, trying hard to hide it away from their hostile views. But the clear shame on your face was easy to read by that one guy who returned from the counter.

“Whatcha sweating for, sugar?” He purred and crouched down to pat everyone’s pockets. He was harsh with the men, groping them disturbingly and giggling at their yelps of pain. You grimaced when he properly violated their manhood’s with his fist until that red-jacketed guy pulled him back, protesting that “we are only robbin’ the joint” over and over again.

Then he reached you. His hands gently grazed your coat pockets before touching the back of your trousers. He thought there was nothing until his gloved fingers tugged the corner of your credit card and his eyes lit up with golden treasure.

“Ahhh… So you do have something.”

“No, no. C’mon, please! – “ You were shut up when his hand covered your mouth.

“Easy does it. Just gimme it, gorgeous. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” His voice was thick with a taint of Northern background, presumably Canadian. His brown eyes glistened through the mask as you tried to avoid staring, but that hand over your mouth kept you steady and inches away from his own face.

“T, come on!”

“Yeah, yeah, Mikey. Load the fuckin’ bags, I need to get this chicks credit card.” He grumbled back to his friend who began stuffing the black duffle bags with the loads of cash they had just robbed.

“Don’t do this, please. I need this money!” You tried to convince with pleading eyes.

“Listen, babe, we are all thirsty for the green in here. How about you gimme that card… And I’ll throw a stack your way. Hm?”

“No, no… I need this card.”

His mask scrunched up with disgust.

“Did ya hear me, princess… I offered you cash and you’re refusing?”

“I know you’re lying,” You muffled through his hand, “You won’t give me anything.”

“I see where you get that idea from, sugar.” The criminal cackled and released his hand from your mouth. He grabbed your wrists and forced you up as the others looked confused.

“T, bro, c’mon! Stick to the plan!”

“Gimme a few minutes.”

“The fuck is he doing?” The stocky guy hushed in an agitated tone, watching his buddy urge you behind the counter where he closed the door, turning around.

You were standing face to face with this masked criminal. Bewilderment startled you greatly. You continued to hear the other guys mutter curses at each other, the bags being ruffled and stuffed still with the trays of green notes.

“What – “

“Listen… Sugartits,” He began, “I couldn’t let a pretty girl, such as yourself, be scared shitless. It’s not my jam.”

Yet he was acting like he didn’t laugh at your misery no less than 10 minutes ago.

“But I do need that card. It’s a cruel world, but I need it more than you.”

“Excuse me?” You frowned and clenched the credit card tighter in your palm.

“I’ll excuse you if you give in.” Returned his snarky backtalk.

“No.”

“C’mon, sugar. I ain’t the guy to anger.”

“I ain’t the girl to rob.”

His eyes narrowed through the mask, “You’re beginning to piss me the fuck off… I don’t wanna, but if you carry on, I might have to finish the job and blow two fine bullets in that pretty face of yours. And I mean it.”

You glanced away with intimidation and nodded with obedience. Staring down at his muddy shoes, you noticed he had stepped closer, striking your attention once again.

“Can I have the credit card?” He’d ask in a calmer tone.

There wasn’t any choice after his threat, so you extended your hand unwillingly. The way his smile widened and he snatched it within seconds. You were left empty-handed before he turned his back, leaving you defeated.

The guy went to return to the guys, his hand hovering over the door handle until his back flunked and he threw his head back with a painful sigh. You’d frown at this confusing gesture. He was breathing heavily – words not spoken, silence defeating his harsh breaths.

“What… Is wrong?” Hesitantly, you slowly used your tongue.

He turned his head slightly so you could see his scowl. You made eye-contact again, but this time, he kept it.

“What’s your name?”

Blood flushed throughout your body with undying nerves. This interrogation felt scarier than his mugging.

“[y/n].”

“[y/n]?” You nodded your head as he continued, “Well, [y/n], I trust you to keep your lips sealed.”

“I have no choice.”

“You are correct.”

Silence again.

“Hey, [y/n]…”

“Yes?” You nervously uttered.

“Ignore the other cunts. They ain’t all that.”

“Ah… Okay…” Despite them all robbing the bank, that was an unusual remark to make in such a heavy situation. Like he wasn’t one of them.

The man continued to stand there, analysing you. He held your credit card in his stiff, gloved fingers before he moved from the door and returned to your front. You had to look up due to height difference. You watched as he slowly took off his mask to reveal a very mattered, scrawny face.

Scars caking his eyebrows and dry lips, nose reddened due to the cold weather. He had this messy mullet that was thrown into a natural mohawk from the way his mask had ruffled the strands thoroughly. Now you could see his expression closely. He didn’t look angry, nor happy. He seemed more sceptical. You caught a glimpse of paranoia from the way he refused to leave your sight.

“Hi…” Then his lips curled into a smug grin. Maybe your evaluations were… Obvious.

“Hey.” You returned the small talk to escape the embarrassment.

“You are weirdly calm even though I just robbed you.”

“I know.”

He raised an eyebrow and gazed down to your quivering lips.

“Are you scared?” His voice hallow, excited.

“As any other person would be.”

“Oh, but you are keeping yourself together well, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.” You whispered.

“Touchy; I like it.” He was enjoying this taunting banter, his face enclosing near yours.

“What do you want?”

“I already got what I want… Now it’s just… You and me.” His breath tickled your forehead.

You sucked in your lips until he pressed you against the cloudy glass, his nose inches away from yours. It was a rather playful push, his hands cuddling your hips. The rush made you gasp out a small giggle in which he smiled.

“I like your laugh.”

You tried to slap yourself back into reality. He was holding you hostage… He was holding you hostage… He was holding you hostage. He’s a robber, a thief, and crimin –

And he lowered you down by your shoulders.

Legs so weak, eyes never leaving his. You fell to your knees and just accepted this weird attraction to this dirty stranger.

“That’s right.” He praised, throwing off his belt and lifting up his winter coat to expose the hem of his pants. That bastard’s so smug at your acceptance and easiness.

“You’re a naughty chick, ain’t you?” He’d consistently murmur as your hands dragged down his underwear, exposing the bulge that sprung to it’s erection. You peered up to see his reaction, finding his alertness in case his so-called “buddies” would disturb this intimate exchange.

So wasting no time, you stroked the tip and fully took his length into the palm of your shaky hands.

You didn’t even know his name! And you’re giving him a vicious reward for ROBBING you. It took you by surprise.

“Your clinical insanity is contagious.” Was the last thing you spat before leaning closer and smothering your lips around the throbbing cock.

You heard him huff at your snappy insult but yelped out a light moan at the sensation of your coiled tongue streaming saliva down him. The criminal thrusted his hips into your gullet, grinning whenever you’d make a weak noise. He was racing his own pace and held a hand on the back of your head.

“Fuck…” He moaned.

Your knees were numb yet it was dangerously enjoyable. You synced with his own euphemism and began to compete against his wanted pace. You edged, toyed, teased him with that slimy tongue. He bonded his sensitivity and soon enough, he didn’t care how loud he was. His dick wouldn’t stop pulsing as you sucked him hard.

“I- I think we’re made… For each other!” Whimpered his clumsily lips that bellowed lack of sincerity. He was definitely loco.

The background noise of duffel bags had stopped, and as much as you wanted to dismiss sucking this guys dick, it was too addictive. You fell into his hands easily and rocked inwards and outwards so his full length would get the equal attention.

“I needed this, fuck me!”

Your hands teasingly stroked his balls until his legs were threatening to hold his body weight. Unlike before, he was now the one leaning for security. He used you as a human flesh-light, cuddling every ounce of surface in your mouth before the climax came faster than he was warned.

The cock shivered, triggering a seedy orgasm that you were forced to swallow by the grip in your hair.

He was severally wrecked from the orgasm – not at all the man you once feared, which was less than an hour ago.

“Fuuucccckkkk!” He’d moan and shake off the remaining cum onto your tongue. And you didn’t fail to saviour every serving.

His hands stroked your hair as a comforting manner. You had almost forgotten about the current crime you were involved with, but before you could react, he already zipped himself up and gave you a cheeky wink. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy from the climax. He threw his mask back on and gave you a playful slap on the shoulder.

“The names Trevor, sugar. Dream of me.”

He rushed out of the room where the outrageous cries of his friends echoed. Statements such as; “are you nuts?” and “you took long enough” was the last of their identities before the room went silent, only the distant sobs of unfortunate hostages who were… Well… Unworthy of any special treatment.

[chrancecriber]

1.FM - Chillout Lounge Radio (January 22, 2023)

23:57 Mandrave & Miyagi - Asian Lights 23:52 Sleepingroom Armada - Hope (Feat Inocencia Comas) (Easy Erotic Groove Lounge Mix) 23:45 Coastline - Adriatic Sea (Lounge Cafe Chillout Del Mar Mix) 23:39 Freemasons - Love On My Mind 23:36 A$ap Rocky - L$d 23:30 Kitty The Bill - Cabriolet Tour 23:23 Oxen Butcher Feat. Lisa Eaton - Love & Happiness (Original Mix) 23:16 Deep-dive-corp. - The Island 23:10 Green Lemon Feat Magica Fe - 11 O Clock (Pure Beach Cut) 23:04 Fluff - Silent Life 22:59 Manoa - Walk This Way 22:54 Chilloutlounge - Track 8 22:50 Ohm-g & Bruno - Jungle Light 22:45 Jjos - Know Me 22:40 Peter Linski Experience - Everything Flows 22:36 Adrien Aubrun - My Last Poem 22:32 Omega3 & Guitarigi - Food (Original) 22:28 Erotic Lounge Deluxe - Gimme The Night 22:23 Alex Cortiz - Fingerprints 22:18 Kaxamalka - True Vibe 22:12 Miraflores - Waves Of Love 22:07 Mahoroba - Faire On Tour (Jazzmatic Lounge Mix) 21:59 Saint Etienne - Only Love Can Break Your Heart- Andrew Weatherall Mix 21:53 4tunes - Where Are You Now (Feat. Hed) 21:48 Cafe Easy - Summerbreeze 21:44 Triangle Sun - Beautiful 21:39 Juan Belda & Carlo Galimberti - Wine Sessions 21:33 Rhodescreen - Peace System (Original Mix) 21:28 Phillip Ashmore - Luxury Living 21:21 Kosta Rodriguez - Blue Grass 21:15 Skysurfer Feat Lovay - Circling Elements (Down By The 21:12 Synkro - Memories Of Love 21:05 Rollercone - Daydreaming 21:01 Roberto Sol - Miles Beyond 20:57 Sunlounger - Balearic Breakfast(Chill) 20:52 Zero 7 - In The Waiting Line 20:46 Jjos & Fede Garcia - Foolish Game (Feat Deary's) 20:42 Alex Baratini - My Play (Chill Out Mix) 20:35 Art Of Lounge - Moments In Love (Buddha Bar Mix) 20:29 Jjos - One More Night 20:23 Citrus Jam - Nice Holiday 20:18 Various - The Cure (Sunshine Mix) 20:13 Naoki Kenji - Endless 20:06 Manoa - Jumaira Drive 20:01 Farbor Resande Mac - Stockholmsnatt 19:54 Matenda - Orphean Layback Remix 19:49 Mark's & Henry's - The Making 19:45 Five Seasons - In Your Town 19:40 Dj Milews - Children (Ambient Del Mar Winter Cafe Mix) 19:35 Cdm - Many Rivers To Cross 19:30 For - For Want Of Her 19:29 Costes - Stéphane Pompougnac - Green Tree 19:26 Faith Hill - Love Ain't Like That 19:20 Esteban Garcia Vs. Subworks - Runnin (Jazzy Dub Mix) 19:17 Morcheeba - Under The Ice 19:10 Royspop - Summer Nights (Luxury Deluxe Del Mar Mix) 19:06 Thievery Corporation - Transcendence 19:01 Peter Pearson - Bossalove 18:57 Jjos - Back To Me 18:52 Blue Six - Love Yourself 18:44 Universe Music - Guitar Beach Lounge 18:38 Naoki Kenji - Bedtime 18:35 K Vassiliadis Ft Marien - Den Efiges Lepto (Dub Mix) 18:31 Tranquillo - Elaborated Compassion 18:26 Airstream - Electra 18:20 Koru - I Believe 18:16 Thomas Lemmer - Savannah 18:12 Karminsky Experience Inc - Departures 18:07 Washed Out - Face Up 18:04 Chris Malinchak - So Good To Me 18:00 Melibea - Lamento (Al Ponerse El Sol) 17:55 Riccardo Eberspacher - I Feel Love 17:48 Dj Disse - Walk On The Wild Side 17:44 The Fairchild - Piano Colors 17:38 Réve De Cabaret - Trust Me 17:36 Isan - No. 1 (Lent Et Douloureux) 17:30 Soft Wave - Plenitude Part 2 17:26 York - Bye Bye Baby (Chill Out Mix) 17:20 Gary B - Set Me Free 17:16 Gelka Feat. Phoenix Pearle - Being You 17:09 Royspop - Mid Summer Nights (Luxury Deluxe Del Mar Mix) 17:04 Ringo Orenji - Mikan 17:00 Sunset People - Summer Madness (White Sand Cut) 16:54 Chilloutlounge - Breather 2000 (Arithunda Mix) 16:47 Madonna - Frozen 16:42 Soleil Fisher - Beautiful Nights In Ibiza (Tribute To Cafe Del Mar Mix) 16:37 Lounge Worship - Above All (Instrumental) 16:33 Mel. T Waters - Glass Reflections 16:27 Sweet Velvet - Recalling The Rising Sun 16:22 Chris Coco Mts Afterlief - Home 16:16 Solanos - Shameless 16:10 Philip Aniskin - Evening On The Waves 16:05 Gxr And Kathie Talbot - 5 A.m. 16:00 Jjos - Lonely (Feat. María La Caria) Manu López-saxo (Lounge Mix) 15:51 Tactful - No Fear 15:47 Andras & Oscar - (I Know) What You Want 15:38 Aural Float - Dreamer's Dream 15:32 Steven Solveig - Boa Noite 15:28 Bop - Enjoy The Moment (Unquote Remix) 15:22 Cafe Del Mar - Leftfield - Fanfare Of Life 15:17 Liquid Kings - Hang Up, Feel Free (Lounge Mix) 15:11 Bedroom Surfer - Make It Happen - Meet Her At Costa Del Sol Mix 15:05 Wonderphazz - Memories (Chill Guide Mix) 14:58 Thievery Corporation - Incident At Gate 7 14:52 Nautic - Freedom Of The Floor (Open Space Remix) 14:48 Mirrored - Stand Still 14:43 Listening Deluxe - Guitar Dreams (Short Aqua) 14:37 Manoa - Repeat It In Slow Motion (Trippin Clouds Mix) 14:32 Jazzy Pecada - Slow Down 14:26 Sven Andersson Iii - Journey To Your Soul (Cosmic Cycle Buddha Lounge Bar Mix) 14:22 A$ap Rocky - L$d 14:16 Pep Llado Feat. Antonio Martin - Vai Vedere 14:12 Vanegas - Te Voy A Querer 14:08 Lowland - Cafe Del Mar 14:02 Green Lemon Feat Magica Fe - 11 O Clock (Pure Beach Cut) 13:57 Maricopa - Sun Scope 13:50 Coastline - Adriatic Sea - Lounge Cafe Chillout Del Mar Mix 13:44 Banderas - This Is Your Life (Easy Life Mix) 13:38 Leaking Shell - After Hour 13:34 Noise Boyz - With My Own Eyes (Keys Of Da Sea Mix) 13:26 More Than Ever People - Levita 13:21 Polished Chrome - Mala (Original Mix) 13:13 Groove Armada - Inside My Mind 13:08 Peter Pearson - It's In The Stars (Original Mix) 13:04 Amethystium - Calantha 12:58 Frank Borell - Somber Moods 12:49 Joey Fehrenbach - Grandfather 12:44 Dab - Pure Joy 12:39 Smooth Deluxe - Ibiza Sundown (Cafe Buddah Mix) 12:35 Synthetic Substance - Eternity 12:29 Dj Lounge Del Mar - Sentosa Beach Cafe - Tribute To Cafe Del Mar Guitar Mix 12:24 Brooke - 1 Want To Know What Love Is (Balearic Hypno Dub) 12:17 Guenter Haas - Ai Fu Lin 12:12 Shivana Faction - Talking In Whispers 12:06 Caya Levantado - Caribbean Daydreaming ( Jazzy Del Mar Cafe Lounge Mix0 12:03 Claes Rosen & Natalie Peris - Stay 11:57 The Sura Quintet - Lampedusa (Sunset Session) 11:51 Lullaby Lounge - Chill Del La Mer (Blank Cafe Relax Mix) 11:44 Fenomenon - Pacific Memories 11:38 Jjos - Heartbeat (Balearic Club Mix) 11:33 Gary B - Love Rain Down 11:30 Emapea - Laka 11:23 Wharmton Rise - The Augur Revisited 11:19 Ibizarre - Smooth Temptation 11:11 Rediophonic - Desert Wind 11:05 Bong & Eddie M - Rain From The Suite 902 (Original) 10:59 Cafe Americaine - Kashmir Wanderer (Nylons Cut) 10:56 Moon Tribe - Moon Tribe 10:51 Fidelity - You Don't Know 10:45 Sweet Velvet - La Realidad (Feat Debora Vilchez) (Ibiza Del Mar Cafe Lounge Vocal Mix) 10:40 Sofa Surfers - Sofa Rockers (Richard Dorfmeis 10:36 Gelka Feat. Phoenix Pearle - Flying On Clouds 10:32 Coastline - Adriatic Sea - Dj Lounge Del Mar Vs. Milews Ambience Mix 10:29 Dragon Lounge - Saigon Sundown (Asia Cut) 10:23 Citrus Jam - Pacific Snow 10:17 4tunes - Where Are You Now (Feat Hed) (Kandi Hotel Enigma Mix) 10:12 Sangar - My Breeze 10:04 Salt Tank - Sargasso Sea 10:00 Verbal Kint Feat. Judie Jay - Break My Dreams (Original Live Mix) 09:56 York Ft Asheni - Iceflowers 09:52 James Bright - Little Things 09:46 Klangstein - Deep Dive (Original Mix) 09:41 Mamani - Glowing Desert (Aloe Trumpet Mix) 09:34 Puff Dragon - Lava 09:29 Boozoo Bajou Feat. Wayne Martin - Every Hour 09:23 Machomovers - Smooth Operator 09:17 Blue Metheny - I'm Calling Out 09:14 Tall Paul Vs Inxs - Precious Heart 09:10 Aaron Bass - On The Beach 09:05 Camille - In A Manner Of Speaking 08:59 Michael E - Sark Of Searenity 08:54 Lange - Frozen Beach 08:48 Alex Cortiz - Ibiza Trumpet Thing 08:44 Lemon Sol - Beautiful Morning (Piano Cafe Chillout To Ibiza Del Mar) 08:39 Sine - Flying (Original Mix) 08:31 Chicane - Low Sun 08:27 Starlive Cafe - Playa Del Mar (Chillout Mix) 08:23 Va - Majorca 08:17 Omnimotion - Cozy Life 08:12 Rae & Christian - Still Here 08:08 Mario & Vidis Feat. Jazzu - I'll Be Gone (Extended Original) 08:02 Mark Gorbulew's Manhattan Groove - Dreamsville 07:56 De Clive-lowe, Mark - Day By Day 07:51 Merge Of Equals - Clear Blue Sky (Original Mix) 07:47 The Avener & Mazzy Star - Fade Into You (The Avener Rework) 07:42 Lux - Head Centre 07:37 Gelka Feat. Phoenix Pearle - Million Nights 07:31 Polished Chrome - Beautiful 07:27 No Logo - Matter Of Time 07:22 Afterlife - Espalmador 07:19 Urban Phunk Society - Spring 2 Summer 07:15 Vanilla - Dreamcatcher 07:12 Dr. Meaker - Need Love 07:05 Digby Jones - Pina Colada 06:57 Deep-dive-corp. - Relaxer 06:51 Pacator - Tränen (Marcielo Ambient Mix Instrumental) 06:45 Night Loungers - A Little Lazy Morning In Paris - French Kiss Del Mar Instrumental 06:38 Schwarz & Funk - Night Over Bangkok 06:33 Martin Bro - To Lose Part 06:29 Ben Leela - Dreaming A Dream 06:22 Fresh Moods - The Touch (Enchant Mix) 06:16 Synthetic Substance - Unreal 06:12 Vio Beach - Piano Chillout (Ambient Dream Mix) 06:07 Liedschatten - Seaside (Original Mix 2006) 06:02 Blank & Jones Feat. Cathy Battistessa - Miracle Man (Beached Mix) 05:57 3 Liquid Hz - Metropolitan 05:51 Nimino - The Back Of Your Hands (Ft. Ashe) 05:46 Va - Serpentine 05:42 Fragile State - Every Day A Story 05:35 Lenny Mac Dowell - Zanzibar Feeling 05:30 Jjos - Let It Go (Remix) 05:23 Balearic Lounge Boyz - Leaving Home (Feat. Guitaragi) 05:17 Sofa Sweeper - Voice Of Core 05:12 Joey Fehrenbach - Untouchable (Feat. Vi Flaten) 05:07 Thomas Lemmer - I Like It 05:02 E-love - Cause I Love You No More (Alster Lounge Chill Out Vocal Mix) 04:57 Coronado (Pianofly Mix) - Bay Area 04:51 Jo Manji - Lazy Loungin 04:42 Chilloutlounge - Track 2 04:35 Jean Martin - In My Dreams (Extended Remix) 04:29 Un Homme Et Une Femme - Une Rose Pour Emily (Cafe Hotel French Del Mar Mix) 04:25 Jeff Woodal - Silver Birch 04:17 Ibiza - Ibiza Blues Swing 04:11 Kiss Audio - The Voice Of Freedom (Spiritual Version) 04:07 The Angelica Project - Another Skin 04:02 Atb - Remember That Day 03:55 Alex Paterson - Flex-e-fun 03:50 Sam Swift - Wonderful World 03:45 Alex Cortiz - Phusion 03:39 Good Chillaz - No Motion (Jazz Relax Mix) 03:34 T Mo - La Ritournelle 03:29 Sunyata Project Feat. Miyabi - Inner Lights 03:23 Night Traffic - Rain 03:17 Freemasons Feat. Amanda Wilson - Love On My Mind 03:11 Exit Mars - Gliding (Comfort Version) 03:06 Noel - Chalito - Ibiza Chillhouse Lounge Mix 03:01 Gary B - Set Me Free 02:56 Sunsea - Light The Fire (Chillout Mix) 02:51 Elmara - Training 02:47 Dj Pippi - A Touch 02:42 Ku You - 40 Degrees 02:37 Sleepingroom Armada - Hope - Easy Erotic Groove Lounge Mix 02:31 Simon Bareilles - The Sound Of Silence (Feat. Sara Keys) 02:26 The Fray - How To Save A Life 02:20 Moon De Lounge - Melodia Amore - Buddha Lounge Bar Chillout Mix 02:13 Phil Mison - Lula 02:08 Pusteblume - Cold As Ice (Beautiful Chillout Mix) 02:03 Coolinar - Wednesday Night 01:58 Dab - Pure Joy 01:54 Cold Blue - Underwater Love 01:49 Strange Voices - All Right For Now (3 Times Infinity Mix) 01:46 K. Vio & Tim Tonic - Out Of Atlantis 01:40 Rue Du Soleil - Essential Feelings 01:35 Pathetique - Dis Moi - Instrumental Cafe Costes Del Mar Sunset Hotel Chillout Mix 01:28 Kosta Rodriguez - Purple Sky 01:24 The River Gods - Acadia House 01:19 Coyoteeve Feat Saro - Tribastone 01:13 Nujazzy - On A Sunday Morning (Facebook Affair Mix) 01:10 Jose Ramos - Alone Again 01:04 Orange Music - Islandlover (Monotonic Trip Mix) 00:59 Jjos - Body & Soul 00:53 Noel - Hold Me (Relax Lounge Cafe Chillout Mix) 00:47 Guss - Milesing 00:42 Peter Pearson - With All My Love (Bliss) 00:37 Vargo - The Moment 00:33 Air - Lost Message 00:27 Aurosonic, Denis Karpinskiy, & Kate Louise Smith - They Wait For Us (Chill Out Mix) 00:20 Noise Boyz - Daydreams Of The Sparrow 00:14 San Martino - Es Cavalett (Piano Dream Mix) 00:09 Bright And Beautiful - Night Rains - Sound Of Ibiza Mix 00:03 Alpha X - Nocturnal Trip

[princeleyjeans]

Personal trikey plot headcanon:

Call me old fashioned or just a sucker for a slow, awkwardly dysfunctional descent into romance, but when it comes to my ideas of a semi realistic/workable ending for Mike and Trevor blows through like an icy wind on a warm summer afternoon, like you’ve walked around Costco and hit the fridge storage room, the customer one, you’re relieved to not be hot yet kinda upset at how opposite it is to the point you’ll hop around the doorway just to balance yourself out. That’s the premise of my headcanon.  2015 starts like any other at the De Santa household, brief morning arguments about Tracey’s life choices and her on/off flings with the college professors of all her classes, yes, ALL OF THEM, while she’s not flirting it up with Franklin since his wealth means he can chill at home with Chop and Lamar and the last thing he wants is to listen to L bitch all day about why he ain’t a 3 bit gangster yet so Frank hangs at their place to sit quietly by the pool next to his future daddy in law and not have to destroy his ears with music to drown out his besties moaning (All that time at the De Santa’s means he gets to know everybody and develop a crush on Tracey which eventually leads to babies and public screaming matches because she cannot live without drama or dick) .  The money following the union depository heist (If we assume the timeline of the final few missions rounded off around mid to late 2014) has come through after being washed via Lester’s numerous amount of fronts (Usually it wouldn’t take more than maybe a week, three tops, but the millions they pulled obviously required extra people, extra roads to travel, extra everything) and the family are in the green once again, however, the lack of worry over money gives everyone time to reflect, to make important changes in themselves and their lifestyles, well, some of them, not all.  As you can guess, the thrill of the chase being gone brings back Michael’s...issue, if you catch the drift and the deeper psychological reasons as to why create tension, release topics of conversation he never wanted to have ever again or prod using the longest of fucking sticks known to mankind.  If it isn’t sex, it’s the lack of general affection between him and Amanda being incredibly evident, painfully so, to the point they might as well be brother and sister because no married couple hug like they do, no happy person in a semi working relationship wakes up eager to pull the covers and see just the indent of their partner (Unless you’re one of the rare types who have S/O’s and just like bed space in the morning). Anyway, the talk finally bubbles to the surface, that now is the best time to divorce as the kids are grown up and they have money again and everything is sorta settled already, it’s just packing their bags and heading out, which is how the tears start cus neither of them wanna push the button, neither wanna make it official or make that call you dread while knowing it’s the least painful option for everyone, even those you ain’t met yet.  Michael gets himself a lil Vespucci condo (You know the ones with the cute bridge over the water), Amanda is given the house in the settlement and later sells it because she can’t deal with the memories and just moves into the hills (She buys one of the homes similar to Martin Madrazo’s but still close to the city), taking Tracey because no way is she living with Franklin just yet, and Jim sorta hovers, couch hopping because he’s having a rough time accepting his parents have broken up and work. He eventually bunks at Lamars and they become platonic love bros.  Come September, Mike starts giving into the questions plaguing his sexuality and ditches the gentlemen club for Leather-Face’s (Popular gay bar based around leather clothing and a really poor choice of name given to it by the owners brother who loved horror movies and ironically died when a Pomeranian bit his leg and it got infected, leading to septic shock and heart explosion), seeing if his lack of ability to be fully intimate towards women stems from an underlying homosexuality which turns out to be less than helpful as despite his new love of boppy music and sparkly fishnet tops, the touch of a man that isn’t Trevor proves to be just as lacking, just as lonely as that of a woman, given a few exceptions (He can get a lil hard to nude mags but it’s sorta a fluctuating mood spectrum) which tend to be just even more confusing and gets him in trouble with anybody interested in him.    Eventually, everything just comes to a semi climax when, with help from friends, Michael gives into his overall infatuations and comes out to Trevor, completely, asking for a date or “Hang out, but it can go ANYWHERE”, Trevs usual for just about anyone he meets ‘Insert cheap laugh here’. and gets understandably told to go fuck himself because why now and after all the pain he’s caused and blah blah Trevor’s hurt, this is opening wounds, big pity party for Mr Philips.  It takes a good deal of arguing and crying to convince his buddy to trust him but after....a month? two perhaps, Trevor eases up and they have their first terrible attempt at romance in the form of a movie at the condo and some fancy ass wine too good for both their tastes, but it leads to a cute, disgusting, hella gay half smooch and some giggles, plus some deep convo that opens M up to a chance at second base but Trevor teases him with the whole “Going easy on you, since it’s your first time” and heads home, forcing M to scream into his pillow and call Amanda cus they besties now.  Overall the headcanon is a slow progression into Mike realizing he’s somewhere on the mostly Aromantic/asexual spectrum with the exception of those he’s in love/obsessed with (Remember when Amanda said he got big balls when Brad tried to get her, it was mostly infatuation, Alpha dogging it) and being in love with Trevor, getting the life he tried to have before but properly this time, accepting himself and being sorta better but not really but also kinda.  Yes I know “MICHAEL WOULD NEVER----” Really don’t care, Honey, my headcanon, don’t like it, the doors to your...’Looks around’---WHERE IS THE FUCKING DOOR! 

[eeveevie]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (2/18)

Chapter 2: How to Be a Detective in 10 Easy Lessons

It’s a new year, and Madelyn is trying to stay busy. Hancock pays a visit to the Detective Agency with an olive branch in the guise of a case for Nick. On the beat, a former mercenary turns informant with more information about the mysterious Railroad. Nick and Madelyn track down their missing person while Eddie Winter makes his first deadly move.  

“Well, sure there is. It comes complete with diagrams, on page 47 of 'How to be a Detective in 10 Easy Lessons,' correspondence school text-book and, uh, your father offered me a drink.” - Philip Marlowe as played by Humphrey Bogart (The Big Sleep, 1946)

x - x

Without giving much away, this is a content warning for a minor character suicide that mirrors the canon in-game side quest.

[read on Ao3] ~ [chapter masterpost]

January 10th, 1958

Nick’s desk was covered in case files, whiskey and cigarette ash—an organized chaos was what he liked to call it, but all Madelyn saw was a fire hazard. This was the way Detective Valentine worked best, however, frazzled and hunched over his scattered notebooks, mumbling incoherently behind the wafting plumes of smoke. The agency was for many the one gleaming beacon of hope in an otherwise dark and dishonest world. Nick had proved his reputation with the people was well earned by helping the community the best he could with the limited resources he had, maintaining a network of clients that kept him in business over the years.

“Everybody deserves their fair chance,” Nick always said, so much so that Madelyn considered putting it on a plaque for his wall—if the walls weren’t covered in photos, wrinkled maps and scribbled handwritten notes.

She found it all admirable, part of the reason she agreed to work with him when initially assigned by the District Attorney’s office two years prior. She didn’t realize that by staying, she’d be forging one of her strongest friendships, discovering one of her most trusted of confidants. Yet, as Madelyn lingered in the doorway of his office, she found it difficult to find the right words to say. She wanted to tell Nick about the clandestine note she received on New Year’s Eve, tell him she felt paranoid about being followed and wanted another training session at the shooting range. Instead, she continued to worry at her bottom lip, awkwardly shuffling the small stack of papers in her hands.

“You can stand there lookin’ like a doll or you can come in here and help,” he spoke, not bothering to glance up at her. Still, she noted his little smirk, eyes lit up as he scrawled away on his notepad.

“I know you didn’t hire me to be a pretty face,” Madelyn bantered, knowing it was all in good, clean fun.  She crossed the small space, planting herself comfortably on the cushioned seat in front of his desk.  

Nick gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “I didn’t exactly hire you. You just showed up here on my doorstep like some kitten left out in the rain.”

She laughed, thinking back to the early days of their partnership. Providing legal aid to a private detective that didn’t always play by the rules—it wasn’t the easiest of jobs for Madelyn. It wasn’t until she realized Nick was forced into the unscrupulous position by the Boston Police Department, who saw his presence as interference rather than assistance, never giving the agency the insider access they desperately needed. Perhaps if they did, there wouldn’t be so many unsolved disappearances or murders plaguing the city. That being said, she made sure Nick stayed out of trouble, pulling in favors where she could, the two using their powers of persuasion to find answers to burning questions. It was easier to toe the line than cross it, but each day as the violence and corruption spread across the city, the line became harder to see.

“What’s on the docket for today?”

The question had barely left her lips when there was a commotion in the lobby, Ellie’s frantic voice calling out as her heels clicked across the wooden floors. “Sir, sir! You can’t just walk in there. You have to have an appointment and—"

“No worries, sister,” the familiar, dulcet voice approached. “They’ll be happy to see me.”

John McDonough—Hancock—strolled through the doorway like he owned the place, ignoring Ellie’s protests. The mayor’s younger brother looked considerably different than he did the night of the police gala—dressed in dark slacks and half-buttoned up shirt, a faded red jacket with golden, frilled trim more suited for Halloween than streetwear. He plopped into the empty armchair, hooking his knees over one side and glancing to Madelyn with a wink.

Nick’s demeanor immediately soured. He pointed at the other man. “Speak for yourself.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have come all this way if it weren’t for nothing, Nicky boy,” Hancock grinned. “Can’t you bend an ear to an old friend?”

Madelyn focused on the detective’s expression, eyebrows knitted together in quiet contemplation as he rummaged for a cigarette before realizing he was fresh out. Hancock noticed, instantly reacting to produce a pack from his jacket pocket. He leaned forward to offer her first, but she declined with a silent wave, causing him to move to Nick. He hesitated, scrutinizing the gesture with narrow eyes before ultimately obliging.

“What are you doing here, John?” he asked, sounding more like the start of an interrogation as he struck a match.

Hancock appeared amused by Nick’s insistence on the name as he lounged back in the chair. “I have a peace offering for you. A case that the local police can’t be bothered with because of the victim’s so-called lifestyle.”

At Nick’s silence, Madelyn interjected. “What is it?”

“Missing person.”

Finally, Nick sighed, relenting. “Give us the details.”

As Hancock spoke, Madelyn wrote in her notepad, neat and succinct lines—they’d have more luck with her organization skills. The missing? Earl Sterling. Twenty-five-year-old bartender from the Fens who worked at the local sports bar across the street from Fenway Park. “Vadim, who owns the bar—close personal friend—came to me crying, thinking Earl had been snatched up by the boogeyman. But who would want to hurt Earl? He ain’t out to hurt nobody.”

Nick was nodding along, jaw clenched, clearly in frustration of another disappeared citizen. That would be thirteen—that they knew of. “And Boston P.D.? They think Earl was undeserving of a proper investigation?”

Hancock scoffed. “Friends in low places. Doesn’t matter that he’s squeaky clean. But since Vadim’s a Russian immigrant, a refugee that has had his run-ins with the law…”

“Of course,” Madelyn sighed, disheartened. It was a cruel underlying fact that not all Bostonians were keen to the changes the war brought. Most carried on with quiet discontent, but others were far more vocal to the point of outright bigotry. A child raised by virtuous parents, Madelyn knew better, ashamed of the city she had lived in all her life.

Nick could sense her stewing restlessness and spoke, nodding at Hancock. “We’ll take the case, track Earl down. One way or another.”

Curiosity got the better of Madelyn as she stared at the two men, sensing the lingering tension. Ever since Piper first mentioned the younger McDonough brother, Nick’s attitude had been uncharacteristically dismissive, and without explanation it was gnawing at her mind. “What’s the deal here?”

Hancock’s eyebrow arched high against his forehead. “Whatcha mean, sister?”

“The animosity in the air is thick enough that I could bottle it up and sell it as a fragrance,” she joked. “Might get rich enough that I could retire early. Buy that cabin up in Maine I always dreamed about.”

While Hancock bellowed out an impressed laugh, Nick sighed through his nose, lips set in a flat line as his cigarette dangled. Still, Madelyn knew he was amused, green eyes bright as he rolled them her way. Hancock’s entertainment settled as he crossed his arms over his chest with a final, breathless chuckle. “I’m surprised ol’ Nicky never told you about me and our time overseas.”

“You two served together?” she asked.

Nick reluctantly nodded, fingers tightening around the wrist of his prosthetic hand, the plastic-metal blend flexing. He didn’t like to talk about it—no matter how many years had passed between the end of the war and the present, it was still an open wound for many, including the detective. He balled his hand into a fist.

“London, during the Blitz,” he explained, in grim conciseness. “Was stationed in Kent in ‘41 during the bombsite recovery. As was John, though he was mostly preoccupied by the local…entertainment.”

Hancock hummed, with a faraway look in his eyes. “There’s something about the English accent, ya’ know?”

“You were disillusioned then, and you’re disillusioned now!” Nick suddenly snapped, hands smacked against the table as he stood up to loom over the other man. Hancock hardly looked intimidated, not even flinching as Madelyn did. “Sneaking off base to get your kicks in some back alley, coming back high as an Air Force bomber. No wonder you’re turned into a beatnik.”

“Better a beatnik than a dick,” Hancock murmured.

“Boys! Boys!” Madelyn stood up with a loud clap of her hands, garnering both of their attention as she stood. “Jesus Christ! Do I need to put you two in separate corners for time out like the curtain-climbers you are?”

Nick scrambled to sit back down, knowing it was a rare thing for her to use the lord’s name in vain, even lightly. Hancock snickered, but flinched when she whipped her head in his direction. “I think you owe Nick an apology, Mr. McDonough.”

He shifted uncomfortably like she had asked him to perform one of Houdini’s acts. “Sorry, Valentine.”

“We’re good, John,” Nick stood again, this time reaching over to extend his hand in some display of goodwill. Hancock took the offer, shaking it with a satisfied grin. “We’ll find out where Earl is.”

As the conversation came full-circle, Hancock tugged on the lapels of his coat and smoothed out the lines of his pleated slacks. He regarded Madelyn with a toothy smile, nodding his head once. “Miss Hardy.”  

She watched as he turned on his heel, slinking out the way he came. Ellie’s disapproving voice called out to him again in the lobby as the bell above the front door chimed, signaling his exit. Miss Perkins’ usual sunny disposition was marred as she leaned into the doorway of Nick’s office, bottom lip jutted out in a frown. “Who was that?”

“Sorry Ellie,” Nick sighed, moving to grab his faded trench coat from the nearby rack. Madelyn smirked, knowing Jenny had purchased him a new one over the holidays—one for Hanukah and Christmas—but there he was, slipping his arms into the same dusty rag. “Hopefully you won’t need to experience such indecency again.”

“Heading out?” Their secretary questioned, looking between the two of them with a shine of excitement in her features. She always liked when they were busy.

Madelyn gathered the case notes under her arm before quickly shuffling back to her own office, pulling on her cream-colored coat that was in much better condition than her partner’s. Purse and papers in hand, she met him and Ellie in the front room.

Nick was adjusting his hat. “Keep a light on for us, won’t you?”  

Ellie flashed a charming smile. “Always.”

Outside, there was a fresh blanket of snow on the sidewalk and a crisp chill in the air. Their destination was a short distance—only a few blocks east. She thought about what sparked their journey.

“Did you really mean that?” Madelyn questioned Nick as they walked in the direction of the Dugout Inn. He glanced at her, unsure of what she meant. “Disillusionment? Do you really not believe in Hancock’s cause?”

He made a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a groan as he rubbed at his chin. “I believe in results,” he answered, keeping his eyes focused on their path. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The Dugout Inn was a tiny hole-in-the-wall, located right on the corner of Boylston Street, opposite of Fenway Park. The clientele were mostly refugees, thanks to the owners, Vadim and Yefim Bobrov—immigrants from Russia who established the bar shortly after V-Day in 1945. Unassuming enough, though the two had their fair share of run-ins with Boston police over the years, mostly for expired liquor licenses or smuggling illicit moonshine. Never anything as serious as money laundering, tax evasion or murder. Mr. Bobrov’s good natured attitude had made him a valuable ally to Nick, perhaps even a friend, somebody the detective could turn to when searching for leads among the downtrodden and forgotten within the city.

Being a mid-morning Friday, it wasn’t surprising that the Dugout Inn was mostly devoid of patrons, save for Vadim’s twin brother and their lone waitress Scarlett who was dutifully sweeping near the back. There was one daytime drunkard, however, sleeping off his hangover in a faraway booth. Yefim was balancing the books at a nearby table, muttering about needing to pay the gas bill, barely acknowledging the passing duo with a wave. As they approached the bar, Vadim was beaming, wiping the countertop before them in earnest.

“Ah, my favorite gumshoe back to see old Vadim,” he set out two glasses, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Want to try the latest batch? May not have ripened yet, but…you always had a good sense of knowing!”

Nick softly chuckled, but shook his head as he removed his hat, placing it on the bar. “I’m not going to be your guinea pig again, Vadim.”

“And what about the lovely lady lawyer? My lapochka?”

Madelyn smiled at his flattery but waved her hand at his offering. “No, thank you.”

Vadim went to speak but hesitated, instead scrutinizing their appearance in his bar. Sudden realization dawned in his expression as he tightened his fist into the cleaning cloth. “Are you here about Earl?”

Nick had barely nodded before Vadim continued with a sagging hang of his head. “Oh, poor Earl. Gone, just like that. Such a good bartender. Good friend,” he trailed with a forlorn expression that morphed into one of slight amusement. “Terrible with the women, mind you.”

“Always in his cups about his face getting in the way,” he further explained. “I say, no mug is too ugly for any woman! What says you, Miss Hardy?”

She joined him in laughter, humoring the old flirt. “Oh, Mister Bobrov, if you were thirty years younger you might have a decent chance at making an honest woman of me…again!”

Even Nick snickered, shaking his head at the exchange. But they were here on business, not for a friendly exchange of words or a casual drink. They had a man to find, sooner, rather than later. At his signal, Madelyn pulled her notepad from her purse, pencil at the ready for any information they might gleam.

“See anybody from Winter’s gang around here lately?” Nick asked, eyes narrowed when Vadim quickly shook his head, coughing to clear his throat as the tone shifted. Nick quickly glanced to Madelyn who offered a quick shrug. Maybe zeroing in on Eddie Winter wasn’t the best idea. Would Vadim even know what a mobster type looked like?

“Oh!” The proprietor said excitedly, hands waving for emphasis. “A few days ago, there was this young mercenary type that I’d never seen before. Lingered about for a few days. Greaser kid that looked like he belonged to a bad crowd.”

“Did he and Earl speak?” Madelyn questioned.

Vadim shrugged, eyes glanced upwards as he remembered. “Yes? No. All I know is he looked suspicious. A—and I haven’t seen him since Earl disappeared!”

Nick was twisting his lips—a telltale sign he wasn’t entirely sure he liked the credibility of the information—but they had nothing else to go on. He tapped his finger against the counter impatiently. “Do you have a name? A location? Think carefully, Vadim. For Earl’s sake.”

A moment passed as the bartender mulled it over in his head. Vadim then straightened, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. “MacCready! That’s his name! Rum and cola. Overheard him mention a hotel near Scollay Square…”

“The Rexford?” Nick mused, more to Madelyn than Vadim.

She nodded. “The Rexford.” 

Scollay Square by 1958 was not the thriving center of Boston theatre and community it once was. Practically a ghost town, with most buildings boarded up after being destroyed by fire or looters, few businesses remained. The Old Howard Theatre—long shut down by the Boston vice squad stood at the epicenter like a shining reminder of the past. Always Something Doing—but not anymore. The area was now known colloquially as Goodneighbor, nicknamed after Mary Goodneighbor’s 1953 striptease that ended it all. Goodneighbor was a hive of sex work and drug runners, bootleggers and mobsters, all just out to make their living in the world—the perfect place for a person to disappear.

Nick decided the trip west warranted the use of his black Cadillac. They’d make better time, and even he wasn’t one to be caught walking through Boston Common—even armed—at any time of day with the increasing crime rates. As they pulled up outside the Hotel Rexford, they observed a disturbance on the sidewalk, snow flurries disrupting their view. Madelyn was exiting the vehicle before Nick could rush over to pull open the passenger door, ever the gentleman as he offered his hand to her. But she was more focused on the three men in a clear argument on the hotel steps, carefully observing the interaction as she hooked her elbow around Nick’s arm.

“Well, we’re outside now!” The scrawnier of the three shouted from the stoop.

On the sidewalk below, a man with wide shoulders and a crew cut snarled back. “Didn’t have to be like this, MacCready! We were just here to deliver a message!”

Madelyn and Nick exchanged knowing glances but refrained from interfering. While they had their lead identified, the situation was hardly any of their business. It didn’t mean that they weren’t going to eavesdrop and make it their business, gather information that might come in useful later on.

“It only took you six months to track me down,” MacCready spoke, taunting his aggressors. “Winlock and Barnes. You two always hold hands across Boston? Don’t you know I left your wannabe gang for good?”

The man Madelyn assumed as Winlock shook his head, irritated as ever. “Yet here you are, taking jobs where you shouldn’t be. Listen carefully, MacCready, it has to stop.”

“Like I have to take orders from you,” he laughed and for a split-second Madelyn wondered if there was going to be a firefight the way the third man’s hand flinched along his side, reaching under his jacket.

Instead, Winlock defused the situation with a curt nod, signaling to his partner Barnes to step back. “We aren’t going to kill you. Today. Wouldn’t want a war with Goodneighbor, or with Winter.”

Nick’s hand around Madelyn’s arm tightened at the mention. Whoever these people were, they weren’t affiliated with the mob organization terrorizing Boston. MacCready crossed his arms, seemingly bored with the conversation. “Are we done here?”

The two thugs traded steely looks—this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. “We’re done. For now.”

As Winlock and Barnes passed the Cadillac, they took one slow, up-and-down look at the pair of onlookers before disappearing down an alleyway. Madelyn looked after them, deeply unsettled, but snapped back to the present as Nick swiftly led them to the lone man left on the hotel stairs, pacing as he kicked at the snow with his sneakers.

“MacCready?”

“Look pal, I’m not looking for any friends,” he said with a wince, shaking his head.

Madelyn looked at their would-be suspect now that they were up-close. For Vadim to have called him suspicious was not wrong, but if anything, the man simply appeared to be down on his luck. Overall, he looked nonthreatening: faded, rolled up jeans, dark flannel shirt with an army bomber jacket and a matching cap atop his dusty brown hair. He was skinny, like he had missed a few meals, and it made her wonder if he was another veteran of the streets that had returned from the war with no home to return to.

“We aren’t here to make friends,” Nick’s tone was firm, signaling it was time to take the proverbial gloves off. The man was squirmy and would need the two of them to act fast if they wanted the right information. “Do you know anything about an Earl Sterling?”

MacCready didn’t take to intimidation lightly. He narrowed his eyes, looking over both of them. “What are you, some kind of cop? Can’t do his job without his lady wife?”

“Lawyer,” Madelyn corrected, removing her hand from Nick’s arm. She gestured in her partner’s direction. “Detective. Best not say anything that incriminates yourself.”

Nick laid it on thick. “We know you were at the Dugout Inn when Sterling disappeared, MacCready. So do us both a favor and tell us everything you know!”

The man held up his hands defensively, bewilderment spread across his features. “Jeez! Okay!”

“I was only there for two days, following up on…something. Yeah I saw Earl there. Nice guy, if not a bit ugly, but who am I to judge?” MacCready talked and the pair listened, Madelyn scribbling away in her notepad the important details. “He kept talking about needing to get out of town. At first it was innocent like…for a fresh start to meet the perfect woman, but the more drunk he got, the more it sounded like he was running from the wrong kind of people.”

“Who?” she followed up quickly.

“Heck if I know,” he responded.

Nick prodded further. “He didn’t mention the mob or a loan shark? The Railroad?”

The mention sent a shiver down Madelyn’s spine. Why, she wasn’t sure. For all of their digging in the last two weeks, the organization—if it even existed—was still shrouded in mystery. She stalled in her notetaking and tuned out most of Macready’s response. “…it’s just a myth.”

A familiar expression fell across Nick’s face as he mulled over MacCready’s words. Helpful? Hardly. It was more of the same of what Vadim had offered, leaving them at square one. Earl was still missing, and they were no closer to determining why beyond a vague threat of needing to get away.

“I might have something you can use,” MacCready voiced, shifting awkwardly down the snowy stairs so he was closer to them. “But if I’m gonna help you, you gotta help me.”

“What happened to ‘not looking for a friend’?” Nick remarked with a light smirk.

MacCready grumbled under his breath, clearly uncomfortable with the circumstances of their visit. He wasn’t having a good day, it seemed. “All bets are off when your life gets threatened in broad daylight.”

“Is that what that was all about?” Madelyn asked, motioning towards the alley where Winlock and Barnes had wandered off to. She flashed a teasing smile, hoping to get a rise out of the man. “Colleagues of yours?”

“Fu—heck no,” he answered, censoring himself. Odd. She chalked it up to a man not wanting to curse before a lady and rolled her eyes. “They are Gunners. Small town gang that operates out of Quincy. I—I uh, used to run with them about five years ago. When I was younger. Dumber. But then I wised up. Got married and had a kid. Gig like that doesn’t really pay the bills, you know?”

“You’re married?” Nick asked, the two seemed to simultaneously note the missing wedding band. He was trying a different, more sympathetic angle.  

MacCready gave a solemn shrug, but his eyebrows furrowed with annoyance. “I was. But that isn’t any of your business.”

“Excuse me,” Madelyn blinked, the math not adding up in her head. “How old are you?”

MacCready chuckled like he was asked the question every day. “Twenty-two.”

Both her and Nick made the same surprised sound, staring at their suspect-turned-dud in disbelief. There went her veteran theory.

“I have a son, Duncan. He’s five years old,” MacCready continued, the emotions he expressed sincere. “I’m just trying to do the best I can by him. Can’t do that if I’m dead.”

“How do we fit into this equation?” Nick asked, tone softer than before. Madelyn smiled, knowing he couldn’t resist a hardship tale.

MacCready tilted his head back and forth with a low hum. “Two hot shot detectives like yourselves need an informant on the streets, right? Let me help you, and in return…”

“Lawyer,” Madelyn corrected, again.

“Exactly!” he replied, far too excited. “Crime and Punishment that sh—stuff.”

She decided not to lecture him on Russian literature and its vast differences to her actual career, which in itself were completely separate than what services she provided for the Valentine Detective Agency. She exchanged a silent, somewhat amused look with Nick, who seemed just as bewildered by the person they had crossed paths with. Finally, the two nodded and the detective extended his hand.

“Nick Valentine, Valentine Detective Agency,” he formally greeted.

MacCready chuckled as they shook hands. “You couldn’t make that stuff up, could you?”

His handshake with Madelyn was much softer, less amused. If anything, he seemed genuinely impressed. “Madelyn Hardy, attorney at law.”

“Robert Joseph MacCready,” he grinned. “RJ, Mac, MacCready. Whatever’s cool.”

“You have something for us?” she reminded, and he quickly removed his hand from hers with a short, excited inhale. The two watched as he patted the front of his jacket before digging through his pockets, finally producing a small key on a golden chain. “Is that…”

“Earl’s key,” MacCready answered with a sheepish smile, shifting his eyes away. “Figured if he was going to be running away, it might come in handy later on. Lives in those apartments near the stadium.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear this,” Nick muttered, shaking his head.

Madelyn wasn’t pleased that their best lead was stolen property, but at this rate, it was their best chance of tracking Earl Sterling down. She snatched the key from him before he could change his mind, tucking it away into her purse along with her notepad.

MacCready regarded her with a stern expression. “Remember my offer!”

She would. But for now, she and Nick had more work to do. 

That wasn’t the first time Madelyn and Nick had backtracked across town, chasing a lead on a case. As they raced through the Fens past the stadium to the grouping of apartments that matched the name on Earl’s golden key, she was grateful that at least this time they hadn’t been sent to Quincy, or Concord. By the time they reached the Parkview Apartments, the sun was setting and the frosty chill from the morning had settled to a near freeze. She couldn’t explain it, but an eerie sense of dread settled in her gut, putting her on edge. Nick seemed to feel it as well, the two dashing up the flights of stairs to make it to Earl’s door.

“What do you think we’ll find?” she asked, nervous.

“Not sure, but we’re about to find out,” he answered, prompting her to unlock the door.

Madelyn was careful, quiet in her actions as she clicked open the lock, Nick taking the lead as he pushed open the door inch by inch. She followed closely behind, the two making their way blindly in the darkened room, the only guiding light the moon that shined in through a broken window shade.

“Mr. Sterling?” Nick called out in a low voice, scanning the area. It was a tiny, studio apartment, with a kitchen nook, a foldaway bed, a small closet and a door that led to the bathroom. From what Madelyn could tell, their missing person wasn’t there. Still, Nick called out again. “Earl? Are you here?”

“Nick, something doesn’t seem right,” she whispered, stepping away to inspect the foldaway bed. Even in the darkness she could see the mismatched stains in the carpet, an overturned nightstand and a few pieces of broken glass. She held her breath before tugging sharply on the release, jumping backwards as the bed—and Earl—came tumbling out. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

Nick managed to turn on a lamp, revealing what she had found, rushing over to her side as she turned away from the horror, covering her nose and mouth as to not retch. He wrapped a comforting arm across her shoulders, exhaling a low, defeated sigh. Earl was dead, but more than that, he had been brutally murdered.

“This wasn’t Winter,” Nick mumbled, drawing a quick conclusion. Madelyn had to agree, even if they only had the scene to go by—Eddie’s men weren’t into butchering their victims. “We need to call—”

They both froze as a clattering sound echoed from beyond the closed bathroom door. Nick swiftly pulled his weapon from its side holster—a well-cared for .44 revolver—and motioned for Madelyn to move behind him. She followed his silent instructions, and reminded him that she too was armed, calmly removing the small pistol she carried from the purse on her arm. He glanced at her with a startled expression—she’d hear about this later—but kept moving closer towards the closed door.

“We know you’re in there!”

When the door creaked open, the two were faced with a familiar, but horrifying sight. Doctor Crocker, a local cosmetic surgeon stood with a wild and strung out look in his eyes—a far cry from the friendly face on the billboard ads plastered around town. He cackled out a laugh. “Naughty, naughty! You’re not supposed to be here! But that’s okay! I can fix that. I can fix anything!”

Madelyn resisted the urge to curse or to scream. For a brief moment, she wondered if she felt this terrified when held at gunpoint more than a year prior by a different madman. Doctor Crocker, however, appeared completely unhinged, dangerous and unpredictable. He hadn’t just shot somebody. He had cut them apart and used their blood as paint for the walls.

“Take it easy, doc,” Nick attempted, raising one hand in a calming gesture, all the while keeping his gun aimed towards the doorway. “Let’s talk.”

“I—I didn’t mean to do it! Doctor Crocker is a brilliant surgeon!”

Talking in the third person was never a good sign, she decided, thinking he had to be high on some kind of illicit drug. Mixed with the adrenaline, the doctor was teetering on the edge of outright disaster.

“He never makes mistakes or loses patients! Only happy patients for Doctor Crocker!” he announced, reaching back to grab what turned out to be his own pistol. Now, Madelyn was petrified. And yet, she didn’t scream, resolve getting the best of her.

“You made a mistake, Doctor Crocker,” she tried Nick’s brand of persuasion, even if it made her skin crawl. “Do the right thing. Just think it through. Come with us quietly.”

At first, her words seemed to have an effect, the daze lifting from his eyes as he glanced down at the red stains that covered his clothes and the state of disarray surrounding them. Doctor Crocker flicked his gaze back to Nick and Madelyn, and the panic returned. “Oh god! I killed a man! There’s so much blood! Blood! All over me!”

He was weeping now, loud and hysterically. Hesitantly, Nick stepped closer in a last-ditch effort to resolve the situation. The doctor lashed out, pushing him away. Madelyn’s heart skipped a beat, and she thought she would be reliving the past all over again. “No! No one can find out!”

But Doctor Crocker didn’t aim towards them. Instead, he turned the gun on himself, barrel pressed firm against his chest before firing. The action took less than a second, faster than Nick or Madelyn could react or intervene. His body collapsed in the bathroom doorway, clearly dead on impact.

“You should’ve seen that,” Nick hushed, his faded coat coming into view as he tucked her head close into his shoulder. She didn’t even realize she was trembling. “You shouldn’t have seen any of that.”

A voice, somewhere in the back of her head told her it was just the beginning. She would become tempered, experienced. Most of all, she would heal. But first, she would see so much more.  

Just like that, the Earl Sterling case was closed.

The Boston Police weren’t pleased with them, but then again, they never were. It wasn’t until past midnight when they were released from the scene, not without a scolding from Sergeant Danny Sullivan. It didn’t matter that they had tracked down Earl Sterling when Boston Police wouldn’t (or couldn’t) and had managed to hunt down a killer in the process. As the police saw it, because any blood was shed, it looked indecent on their behalf, and it all had to be handled very carefully. Nick and Madelyn feared that was codeword for coverup. But they weren’t threatened, or told to keep quiet, which further fed into the detective’s either hypothesis—that Winter had nothing to do with Earl’s death. What had started as a run of the mill case had left them with more questions than answers.

Madelyn and Nick were exhausted by the time they returned to the agency. Ellie had left her little glass lamp turned on, just as she promised, but the brunette was long gone. Instead, a different, familiar voice called to them from Valentine’s office.

“Rough night?”

Piper winced as soon as she saw them come through the door, clenching her teeth in a sharp hiss. It was likely obvious how ragged they appeared, and Madelyn was sure some of their clothes were splattered with blood from Earl’s apartment. Nick pulled off his coat with a groan, tossing his hat across his desk as he snatched up the fresh pack of cigarettes Ellie had left behind. Madelyn didn’t bother, practically collapsing into her favored armchair on the left and slinking down, no matter how undignified her posture appeared.

“That bad?” Piper asked.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Nick responded, puffing out smoke before taking in another deep inhale.

The reporter tapped the rolled-up newspaper she carried against her palm, shifting her gaze between the two of them. “Well, since we’re already swimming in it,” she half-heartedly joked before unfurling the newsprint, dumping it atop Nick’s desk so he could see. “Johnny Montrano Jr. is dead. They found his body in the Harbor this morning while you two were running around.”

Fury seemed to be fueling Nick now, who was already starting on his second cigarette. Madelyn perked up at the news, realizing what his reaction would be. “The bastard’s finally done it. He’s finally had him offed. Fed to the fishes.”

“Fishes didn’t really get to do their job though,” Piper mused, rolling her eyes when the two remained silent, too focused.

Madelyn looked to Nick. “He’s looking to take over the northern territories.”

“If he hasn’t already,” Nick replied in an ominous tone. “Nobody is safe anymore.”

Eddie Winter had just made his first deadly move.

[countryshitposts]

You’re Shooting Your Bullet The Wrong Way

Interlude

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of rape and assault

-

Name Guide:

Daehan Minguk- South Korea

Daehan Imsi- Korean Provisional Government

Daehan Jeguk- Korean Empire

Nabi- Colonial Korea, belongs to @redffeather

-

America was leaning on her chair as she silently observed the goldfish swimming in circles on her desk, her eyes glancing at her charging phone every second, as if she couldn’t wait to entertain herself with the advantages of technology that has been plaguing humanity since the very start of the world. She then stares back at the goldfish who was listlessly swimming, no life and no voice in the world, as the water makes soft currents following the goldfish’s swimming.

Quiet stretches over her office, her eyes going back and forth from the goldfish to her phone, trying to focus on one or the other, not wanting her thoughts to plague her mind like it did last night. Her mind had vomited up thoughts out of nowhere after her escapade with Japan two days ago; she can still feel his soft lips on her own, the way he had wrapped her arms around her in a rather warm and loving embrace, and the way he had defended her when she can defend herself against those assholes.

She touches her bruised eye, which was from a hit by Russia that night.

Russia corners America on the alley walls, before she could even continue. She glares up at his icy blue eyes, flaring with anger as fire and ice coexisted. She could smell his breath lacing with vodka, his eyes kindling with loathing for her. The taller man presses his face against hers, and now his breath is hard to get rid of. She glimpses at the now passed-out Japan, and she realises she needs to apologise to him once he regains consciousness again.

“You’re really a nuisance”, Russia growls, as his fingers dig deep into her wrist, while she tries to squirm from his grasp. Before she could respond, however, his lips crashes into hers, as . America’s eyes widen in surprise, his hard and dried lips making contact with hers, as she has no power to stop him, the taste of his mouth lingering on hers.

Of course she doesn’t think about that bastard; she’s thinking of Japan once again, who tells her she can have a break from her duties, with that kind smile and grey eyes showing how sincere and lively he is, and she can only smile back. He makes her feel something… warm deep inside her, a feeling she has never experienced before unless it was completely crushed by her own soul. A thousand feelings had crept up to her that night, as if his lips had given her another thought, to continue this sharing of warmth as if it was her own.

Goddamn it, she has been thinking of Japan lately, especially after that night where he took on a few punches for her sake.

(She misses those warm arms wrapping around her body like she was something.)

Her conscience wants to go back to Japan’s home though, but she stops herself.

It’s time for her to take a break from her fake job, away from everyone else, away from Japan and his family, because they’re all slowly driving her crazy.

She hears a knock on her door, and she tells them to come in.

Canada peeks his head from the door, his green eyes sweltering with anger; America spots him sporting a black eye as well. She smiles back at him, standing up to welcome his brother with open arms.

“Finally home”, she says, as Canada makes his way to her desk, also sporting a few bruises here and there. She frowns, as if she finally notices the predicament her brother was in. “What the hell happened to you?”

Canada averts his gaze, gazing sourly at the windows where they find Philip plucking at red dahlias and Vietnam shaking her head as she silently watches her coworker with a grief-stricken face. He looks back at his sister again, a smile on his face, as if he had not been scowling and wishing to murder someone right now.

“Prostitutes”, he says simply, before opening the window and poking his head out. “Philip, Vietnam, I need you to gather our officers in the meeting room. I have an announcement to make.”

His sister raises a brow, “What kind of announcement?”

He gazes darkly at Philip, his kindly green eyes turning into murderous poison, his pupils aiming at one of his officers, wanting to shoot the golden ring Philip has on him a few days ago. Canada ignores his sister’s question as he marches out of her office, as if she had never been there in the first place, a ghost to all ghosts.

Canada - for the day - takes the lead of the meeting, which was a hard push of pride for America herself, who was now seated quietly at the front desk, as her brother stands silently, glaring at everyone around him, his green eyes that used to host kindness and friendliness replaced with a burning rage that destroys and sets the forests of green into a blazing colour of red and orange. America stares at him with a worried look, because he has never been in a horrible mood before, except for those times she or her other brothers purposefully threw out all his pornos.

Then America notices his glare lighten as he looks at her, then picks up again when he glances at India.

Vietnam loses her patience first, “What are you waiting for, Canada?”

That seems to snap him out from his trance, as he clears his throat and starts to talk about why he’s been making a face all day. “So a few days ago, I was absent from work due to collecting intel from clients of one of Teikoku’s brothels.”

He once again glares at India, who glances away, as if he had done such a deathly sin to get Canada fuming with rage. He collectively gazes at a few officers, shooting a wary look at Philip, who was biting his lip, his dark blue eyes on Canada, as if he had found out a dangerous secret that was once exclusive to his and only his is now being broadcast to the entire world, before he glances down to look at the pattern of the table.

“I met a few colleagues of Teikoku, some unidentifiable faces of corrupt officials and businessmen, and some…” Canada looks around the entire room once again. “Very, very familiar people.”

From the corner of America’s eye, some of the officers are giving each other furtive glances, knowing what was about to come while the others were busily staring at Canada with confusion, as if it wasn’t possible for any gold-hearted warrior to be bribed with the promises of money and lust so that they can shield this horrifying secret away from the others who have come to search and find those kinds of secrets.

Canada smirks a little, as he steps on the table America specifically told him not to step on, but now is not the time as he, without hesitation, yanks India’s plaque from his uniform, and the man just stares back at his superior, meanwhile Canada was bending down and taking Bangladesh’s identification as a police officer, then Brazil, then Columbia, Ecuador, and Indonesia, all of them looking ashamed of themselves, as Canada glares at them, one by one.

He shakes his head despondently, before he finds his voice once again. “These officers don’t deserve to even be called as such. If they are this easy to manipulate, then we can’t trust them at all to do a good job. So, I’m firing them.” He turns to America for permission, and she looks at every single one of her - former - officers.

She can feel anger and justice growing deep inside her, as she continues staring at those who gave in to Teikoku’s promises and words of glory and fame, all for them to stop controlling their lusts and keep this whole secret from the entire department; they were supposed to be catching and arresting crime, but in the end they become criminals themselves, taking advantage of their higher position in power. She stares at every single one of them, anger amplifying like a raging fire, as she stands, commanding authority to all.

“They can’t even do their jobs properly”, she answers, narrowing her eyes to almost everyone of them, “so I’ll say this: if you can’t keep it in your motherfucking pants and decide to turn to more illegal methods of fucking, you ain’t fit for a position like this. Get out of my sight.”

Canada nods as he scowls at those whom he took away their privileges from, “You heard her. Get out.”

The fired officers take their leave, never looking back at the others who remain in their seats, who were all looking around, as America slowly sits back down, anger vanishing, and now left with an awful migraine, probably her bruise two nights ago.

Canada once again glares back at Philip, who was toying with the red dahlias he had plucked from the outside, ring shining, before stalking out of the room, then followed by his siblings.

-

“What the hell happened to your eye?”, Canada asks a while later, as he and his siblings were now lounging on the front desk as the others were on their lunch break. America subconsciously puts a hand over her eye, as she munches on the burger her brother gave to her.

“Russia”, America simply replies with a shrug.

“Russia? How did he do that?”, Australia asks from behind them, having finished a phone call from Villers.

America scowls. “Kissed me right in the lips. Then hit me.”

New Zealand looks up from his lunch with a raised brow, but his eyes scream outrage. “Asshole. How did you and Russia encounter?”

America shrugs, her mind trying to go back to that night but instead of Russia in her mind threatening her it was Japan’s soft lips pressing against hers. She immediately goes red at the thought, trying to disregard those churning feelings inside her as she keeps her face serious and not look like an enamoured teenager because that’s now what she is. She has a life now.

“Japan decided to go to a bar in the middle of the night”, she replies, “to ‘make me feel better’, I guess. And then I realised that Russia is one of the bartenders there and Jesus fucking Christ, was he horrible at it. Assholes decided to harass me but Japan beat them unconscious. Then he passes out from drinking too much.”

Canada tilts his head. “That was a wild fucking night. I, meanwhile, was being tied up by girls in the brothel because they think I kidnapped one of them. Shanghai, I think?”

America gives him a look, “I found her, by the way. Didn’t know you’d let a prostitute of someone as perverted as Teikoku leave without guidance.”

Her brother had the right to look sheepish. “I thought she would’ve ran to the police station.”

His sister shakes her head, “Found her in Daehan Imsi’s home. You know, the uncle of the guy we’re risking our lives for. He was very defensive when I called her a prostitute and one of Teikoku’s toys.”

Aussie sighs, “Why would you even say that with no hesitation nor remorse?”

New Zealand snickers lightly, “She’s always been blunt, no need to call her out more.”

Canada stretches his arms to the back of his head. “So America, did you find any more clues about what the hell Teikoku’s been doing?”

She immediately slaps herself internally; she was so busy taking care of Koku that she forgot about her assignment entirely, knowing she shouldn’t have come back empty-handed, but she remembered what Russia had told her before he had the nerve to hit her square in the face.

“Russia said something about Soviet Union trying to date Ost”, America says, before blanching- Soviet was a decade or more older than Ost, even older than Koku had ever been, meaning this age gap was even worse than the latter’s, but that doesn’t make it any better.

Aussie’s face sours, his eyes narrowing as he calculates Soviet and Ost’s age, “But Ost is fifteen and Soviet is- NOPE I’m not thinking about it!”

The others also look just as disgusted as their brother, who had almost dropped his cup of coffee out of sheer shock,

“What a creep”, Canada states, frowning, “exploiting a young teen like that. We need to do something, quick.”

“‘Creep’ isn��t even the word I’m looking for”, New Zealand replies, looking sick in the stomach. “That’s full-on pedophilia.”

“I’m wary of Soviet”, America says, “just as I’m wary of Teikoku and Weimar.”

“Didn’t you say on a phone call Weimar put something on your and Koku’s stew?”, Aussie asks as he takes a sip from his coffee mug. “Because that’s some fucked up shit, man.”

“Very fucked up shit”, Canada supplies.

“Really fucked up shit”, New Zealand adds.

“It’s Weimar’s dad, I’m sure of it”, America says. “Who the fuck puts their dead dad’s remains in a stew and expect people to turn cannibal?”

Canada shrugs, “Apparently Weimar. But we don’t have enough evidence that he murdered his dad. Remember; there’s no more body because he made people eat it.”

Kiwi nods thoughtfully, “A horrifying way to get rid of evidence, but still quite effective.”

“But what does Soviet want with Ost?”, Aussie asks out loud, as they come back to that messy subject. “We already know that she and Koku are going to get married, whether both parties like it or not.”

“To enrage Teikoku?”, America suggestively replies, “the letter Soviet gave to him seems to think it.”

“I don’t know, but it can’t be good.” Just then, Aussie’s phone rings and he picks up and answers it, his eyes lighting up and his lips curving to a bright smile, which means, “Ah, Villers!”

Everyone instinctively groan and sigh- the lovebirds are once again calling each other. America can feel herself subtly get reminded of the fact that she is now reaching her thirties (she technically is in her thirties but don’t correct her) but it seems that no one is interested in her or she hasn’t found the right person yet. Or maybe she didn’t seem to think no one would like her that way- there was this charming man back when she was fifteen who gave her a drink, but she passed out and ended up in her room barren.

And with child.

Aussie hangs up with a “Love you too babe!” (it makes America sick) and turns to stare at his siblings who were all victims of his damned monologue to his fiancee. He gives them all a huge smile, “Villers said she’s going to meet all of us in the park.”

Canada scoffs, “What, she organised a picnic for all of us?”

“She really did”, Canada says a few minutes later, mouth agape, as Aussie helps Villers set up the picnic table while she hums and kisses her fiance on the cheek, earning a chuckle from him.

New Zealand shakes his head fondly, “Never underestimate Villers.”

As the picnic table is settled, Villers and Aussie takes a seat on the far end of the table as the others take a seat with them.

America huffs a laugh as she looks at Villers, green eyes twinkling, “We already had lunch when you called us- you didn’t need to cook food for all of us!”

Villers laughs softly, a simple breeze to the harsh winds that strike fear in everyone’s heart. She was quite a warm lady, always caring more for others than herself. It is what made Australia so in love with her, and at the same time wanting to be like her in every single way. She was such a sweet dame, a lovely person with sharp wit and tongue, but that doesn’t mean she is going to let people step all over her as if she was just a doll.

“How was the kindergarten, Villers?”, America asks as she dines in with the others, and the woman’s eyes brighten like stars.

“They’re all so brilliant and talented and kind!”, she replies with a soft smile on her face, as she looks at Aussie shyly. “It makes me wonder if I would have kids someday.”

Aussie instantly goes red, as the others laugh and clap him on the back.

America laughs, “Glad to hear that. So, have you guys planned when the wedding will be?”

“When you get a boyfriend”, Aussie jokes, and America playfully throws her fork at him, lodging into the table as everyone laughs.

“Asshole!”, she exclaims. “Don’t be so smug that you’re getting married!”

“Literally everyone here is jealous you’re gonna get married first”, Canada says, as he shoots a look towards Kiwi. “What about you and Luxembourg, huh?”

Kiwi blushes with embarrassment, “Shut the fuck up about him!”

Once again, everyone in the table laughs, before they start eating the marvelous wonders of Villers’ cooking.

While America’s brothers are making absolute shits out of themselves in the park, America and Villers were sitting under the tree, the both of them enjoying its shade from the sun. She likes the sun sometimes, but not when it makes her all hot and bothered and gives her a sunburn just from staying under it for too long. Then again, it was a great source of warmth in the cold mornings, and a light that will vanish during stormy days and winter, when the sun was not confident to shine on those who he had saved.

From beside her, Villers sighs, her golden curls shining from the hints of sunlight peeking playfully from under the leaves. She looks on at Aussie with a small smile on her face, as she subconsciously pats her belly, as if something was growing in there other than the digestion of food. Her eyes sparkling from joy morph to one of sadness, her smile faltering as it crumbles.

America frowns, “What’s wrong, Villers?”

Villers looks back at America, her eyes shining with an undefinable sadness that she had never seen in the woman before. “Can you keep a secret?”, she says through hushed lips, and America hesitantly nods.

“Why?”

Villers takes a shaky breath, as her eyes show an intense sadness that even America herself never thought she’d harbring. “Today, I went to the pharmacy to get a pregnancy test after I complained of morning sickness to Aussie.”

Her friend’s eyes light up excitedly, “Are you pregnant?”

Villers holds back a sob, as she turns back to Aussie and the others, laughing and muttering gibberish. “I wish I was.”

America cosies next to Villers, “What’s wrong?”

Her friend was trying not to cry, as she sniffles a little, “I was so excited when the pregnancy test flashed positive. I thought me and the love of my life are going to have a kid.” She buries her head on America’s chest, while America wraps an arm around her comfortingly, her golden hair glowing with sadness, as if it obeys its master’s emotions.

“In fact, I was proven wrong by the doctors”, she says between sniffles. “They said I can’t bear a child. That I’m too infertile. I don’t think Australia would want me anymore after I break the news to him that I can’t have children. H-he wanted us to have a big family, you know.”

America stares at her sadly, as she lifts Villers’ face up so their eyes can come face to face, Villers stormy blue eyes full of sorrow and sadness in contact with America’s determined and comforting eyes.

“Villers, where did you get the idea that Australia would leave you?”, America asks softly.

She looks away, back at Aussie sadly, “No one likes an infertile woman.”

America sighs, shaking her head, “Now where did you find that? We ain’t in the fifteenth century anymore, where every single asshole would want their wives and daughters to crank out more babies. This is the modern world, and Australia will never leave you just because you can’t bear his children.” They stare at each other’s eyes once more. “So don’t say shit like that, alright?”

Villers nods hesitantly. “O-okay. But please keep this a secret.”

“I will, you have my word.”

“Oi Villers, look at what Aussie got himself too this time!”, comes New Zealand’s voice, and Villers immediately wipes her tears as she and America run towards the stream.

As America and Villers finally reach the stream, America almost chokes just from laughing. Australia was battling with a few frogs defending their eggs that were a few feet near Aussie. From the corner of her eye, Villers cracks a smile before she instantly laughs as a toad jumps on her fiance’s face, making him fall down the stream, splashing him even more.

“Filthy vermin!”, he shouts as he tears the amphibian apart from his face, as he turns to glare at his laughing siblings and fiancee. “I could’ve used your help, ya know.”

“It’d be better laughing at ya”, Kiwi replies between laughs.

“How did you even manage to get into a fight with frogs?”, America chortles.

“Well, whatever the reason, I think he needs help.” Without waiting for another beat, she approaches the fight scene as loads of frogs are now climbing on Aussie’s body, as he kicks and swears at them to get off. As Villers approaches, his mood suddenly brightens, as his fiancee brushes the amphibians off him gently, before kissing him in his damp stream-filled lips, and he reciprocates, his hands on her waist.

Then Aussie presses his body onto her even more, deepening the kiss and making Villers gasp.

“Get a room!”, Canada bellows from above them, as Aussie immediately breaks the kiss, with the woman in his arms looking dazed and lovestruck all over again.

He gives his older brother the bird as the others laugh, going back to the picnic.

(Somewhere, in America’s heart, she is overcome by the fact that she also dreams of looking at someone with lovestruck eyes.)

-

Shanghai dreams of a hundred hands tearing her clothes apart, bit by bit, faces mangled and distorted beyond recognition, just faces looking absolutely delighted to finally get their filthy hands on her like it was the end of the world. Their voices were like smoke in her nose; forever bothersome and polluting her lungs and mind, dirtying her soul and damaging her heart into tiny little pieces.

Then one of the hands finally tears the last layer of her clothes, and with a blood-curdling scream, they were all upon her like rats finding food.

“Shanghai!”, a voice from a distance echoes throughout her mind, but all she sees are hands everywhere, controlling her moves and body forever and ever.

She feels someone’s hand land on her shoulders, and she kicks the person away from her, her shaking body trying to guide her away from the trespasser, but all she could find are walls, walls, walls. They surround her, torment her with their solid boundary, knowing there is no escape between them and the man in front of her. She screams and shouts with all her might, loudly, hoping someone will help, but no one does, no one really does.

“Shanghai”, the voice says with a grunt, as she hears footsteps advancing towards her- there is no hope but to crawl into a fetal position and sob into her arms, knowing the inevitable was coming.

But no one kisses her in the cheek and whispers an inappropriate comment in her ear before pinning her down to the bed. But he was still there, waiting, watching.

She hears him sigh, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have startled you. I will be leaving you now, but if you ever change your mind, you can come out and have breakfast with me and Minguk.” She lifts her head from her lap, as she stares at Imsi’s back leaving her.

Shanghai remembers anything, and she immediately stands, “Wait.”

Imsi looks back at her with a questioning look. “Would you like to eat breakfast with us?”

Shanghai nods hesitantly. “O-okay.”

Breakfast was a quiet affair with Imsi and Minguk; Imsi encourages her to eat more as he reassures there will be a lot to feed the family. She cautiously takes a bite of her food, still paranoid it might be drugged, but as her tongue tastes the properties of the meat Imsi had cooked, she immediately eats her entire food from her plate. From the corner of her eye, Minguk was glaring at her suspiciously- it seems that he still has not got over his suspicions of her being a robber.

“Samchon”, Minguk starts as he takes a bite of his breakfast, “when is she going to leave?”

She stops eating to look at Imsi expectantly, who drops his fork and is now glaring at Minguk.

“Minguk, where are your manners these past few days?”, Imsi asks, “because she will not be leaving unless she is now well.”

“I can leave now”, Shanghai pipes up, her eyes never leaving Imsi, at how easily he defends her than his own blood, “I feel fine.”

Nephew and Uncle stare at her- one with victorious eyes, the other with an unreadable look.

“Are you sure?”, Imsi asks with a concerned tone, too genuine to be considered fake. “You had bruises on your body the last time I saw you.”

She was taken aback at how he cares for her, as if she was just a family member to him, as if she is measurable to his nephew who seems to certainly be attached with. Shanghai hesitates, not sure if she should go out in the real world and risk being caught by Teikoku and his guards and being put back in the brothel (although she will be reunited with Nanjing and Ryukyu once again), so perhaps the safe move is no move.

She turns back to Imsi, “I don’t think I’ll be going for now.”

Suddenly, they hear someone drop their fork violently, with Minguk locking himself in his room, closing the door with a bang. Imsi shoots up from his seat, glaring daggers at the locked door.

“Dangsin-ui maeneoneun dangsin-eul tteonassseubnida!”, he bellows at him in Korean, grumbling before sitting back down, toying uselessly with his food, a dejected look plastered on his face. Shanghai knows it is her fault that drove Minguk away from the dinner table, so she brings herself to comfort the man who had blessed her with a home.

“Joesong haeyo”, she apologises in Korean, which turns Imsi’s attention from his rebellious nephew to her, his eyes wide with surprise and fascination.

“You speak Korean?”, he asks with a growing interest, his mouth curving to a smile. “Because you speak quite well.”

Shanghai nods, feeling flattered at the fact someone had complimented her language skills- this skill has faded over time, as the only vocabulary she knows in the brothels is playing the lowly seductress and screaming into the sheets as she tries to dream of a life where she and her sisters in the brothel are living in a paradise that no one else will touch.

“Gamsahabnida”, she replies shyly, “I was a translator and knew a large number of languages back then.”

Imsi looks quite fascinated, as he completely forgets his food to turn his interest to her, but no lust nor desire evident in his face. “A job as a translator sounds really nice! I’ve mastered a few languages because I was quite curious, and also because I have no interest in making friends back then.”

Shanghai is taken aback about how blunt and honest he is about why he had learned a dozen languages in his lifetime, just because he didn’t want to make friends back then. She remembers that she was quite social, when her entire life was still a whole empire, and not the vast disorganised city states that her life came to be now. There was a hint of sadness and loneliness in his eyes, as if he regretted not making friends in his old life.

She doesn’t know how to respond, and she simply nods to the beat, “Ah, interesting.”

Imsi shrugs, as if this was no big deal and there are other ways to get over his loneliness. “What other languages do you know?”

Shanghai thinks for a moment- she certainly had not practised all of the languages she learned, and she feels like she has failed herself in overcoming her pain these past few years and never developed her old interests since her only interest was now to survive.

“I don’t know if I still remember some of them”, she replies hesitantly, “French, Swedish, Portugese, Russian, Italian, German, Danish, and Dutch.”

Imsi’s eyes light up, impressed. “I’ve… never even mastered that many languages. I mean, I know Chinese, French, Spanish, Russian and German, but that’s it for me.” He smiles at Shanghai shyly, as if he is starting to make a friend after all these years hiding in books, getting lost in each page like he was inside a story rather than the real life where he is living and breathing and suffering.

Shanghai shyly smiles, once again feeling flattered at the compliment. She can feel an unnecessary but determined friendship growing at the both of them, their feet being planted at the soil as roots start to grow overnight, and in the morning a flower blooms in the gardens.

(After breakfast, she remembers that she is still wearing Imsi’s shirt, so she tries to give it back to its rightful owner while he is washing dishes- for some reason he feels uncomfortable at a woman taking a shirt off in front of him and tells her she can keep it.)

Minguk is out for school and Imsi is in his office, well, working, leaving Shanghai alone, lounging around the home with a bored expression on her face. She looks at all of the books in the bookcase- she had read almost everyone of them, but it doesn’t hurt to reread the same fictional words once again, so she gets up and examines the books that she feels she had not fully stemmed out, not fully fleshed out and fully studied.

She chooses Stranger in a Strange Land- she remembered thinking it was rather bizarre, and never gave it another chance, but she decides she’ll take a closer look at it today, knowing she will regret opening the book’s covers. As she takes a seat on the sofa, she inhales the scent lingering in her shirt; it belongs to Imsi, and it still belongs to him. Whenever she smells it, she can feel a sense of calm in her, as if Imsi is there comforting her wherever she is, she will be reminded that Imsi is there to shelter and secure her.

She makes herself relax a little, once again smelling Imsi’s shirt - damn his cologne is enchanting yet comforting too - as she starts to read the book.

A few hours passed, and she had now finished the damned thing, and now she wishes to take a break from reading. Shanghai hears someone in the kitchen, and she turns to look at Imsi, busily making himself a drink.

“Hello”, she says, which shocks him a little, almost making him drop his drink.

He awkwardly smiles at Shanghai, shifting uncomfortably, “Is there something wrong?”

She shakes her head, “Nothing. How is your work?”

He averts his gaze, scratching his head, before looking at her again, “Well, I’ve been struggling at something, and I am pretty sure you have the knowledge to help me.”

Shanghai tilts her head, “Me?”

He nods, “You’re smarter than I’ll ever be. I can see it in your eyes.”

She cannot help but scoff at the way he says it, an old spark rekindling inside of her. “A boy assumes he can see my wit inside my eyes.”

Imsi gives her a small smile. “Well, you’re already doing it right now.”

Her eyes widen, as she realises what she had just said to the man in front of her. She stiffens, thinking that he is offended at what she had said, but he simply chuckles.

“I mean it, you know.”

Shanghai looks into his eyes, so genuine it hurts her. “I know.”

A few minutes later, Shanghai’s body is - uncomfortably - pressed up against Imsi’s, highlighting a few curves on her purposefully. Imsi looks neither interested nor aroused, but more uneasy and awkward, like he doesn’t want someone’s body making contact with his like this. She feels puzzled at the fact he is not giving in to her advances- many men who had been vulnerable to her wiles will have already taken their shirt and pants off just at the sight of her. He doesn’t seem to be caving in yet.

“Wow- I never thought about it that way.” He taps on the keys on his keyboard, as Shanghai points at something on the screen, purposefully pressing her body even more into his.

“Like that. The police sometimes can’t be trusted- they can be as corrupt as any government official. The problem of corruption is like a rot in the core.”

“It is something depressing, yet real at the same time”, Imsi agrees, as he leans further away from Shanghai. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

She blinks a little before realising he’s serious, then sits on his lap, with him grunting in both shock and awkwardness. “No, Shanghai, get a chair for you to sit in.”

“Oh… okay.” Once she gets herself a chair to sit on, she accompanies Imsi with his work, pointing out a few mistakes and suggesting a few words to enhance the vocabulary of his presentation, with the man thanking her profusely every time she points out something is wrong with his document.

Shanghai unconsciously buries her face in Imsi’s shirt sometimes- whether it be the shirt she is wearing or the shirt Imsi is wearing; it seems to have a calming effect on her, like she was standing on a rose garden as butterflies snack on the pollen in each blooming flower, paying her no mind as she roams around the gardens, wondering if she can always be there, if she can still find this in a place where she is in peril.

Once she is now helping Imsi edit and proofread the document, she can feel her stomach groaning and moaning, knowing that hunger is an old enemy she has to face.

(In the brothels, Teikoku had only given her and the other workers a formidable amount of food, but in the end she only eats little of it and gives most of her food to the younger girls who are more in need of food than she ever will be.)

“We’re finished”, Imsi says as he stretches his arms over his head, a smile on his face. “Wanna celebrate by going to the malls and buying food? I’ll pay, of course.”

She bites her lip; on one hand, she wishes to explore how much has changed while she was stuck in the brothels like a dead woman inside her coffin. But on the other, Teikoku will know she has escaped his clutches and now he’s hunting her down like a dog. She shakes her head, a little rapidly, making Imsi a little concerned.

He nods, understanding. “All right, I’ll just make lunch for all of us.”

That is one thing that can make her nod, as she follows Imsi out of his office.

She submissively waits for him to finish cooking, her arms on her lap, eyes on the table, biting her lip with a clear vengeance, now tasting copper in her mouth. There is a thick but comfortable silence, enveloping the both of them, only to be broken by Imsi’s singing, which was calming her down the same way Imsi’s scent is.

“I like the way you sing.” That statement makes Imsi jump, as he looks back towards Shanghai with a flustered look.

He gives her a lopsided smile, “Thanks. I rarely sing since my voice is crappy- Minguk’s the better singer, but thank you.”

She shyly smiles at him, “You’re welcome- you should sing more.”

He laughs, which was surprisingly pleasant to her ears, as he goes back to his work. “Your voice is quite melodious too.”

Instead of being flustered with the compliment, her smile falters as a dozen memories come and try ruin her mood.

“Your voice would be more beautiful if you scream for mercy.”

“How much will it take for you to sing for me?”

“You’re nothing but a slut and a whore.”

“I…”, she blinks back to the present, her body shaking and quivering, tears clouding her vision.

“Shanghai?”, a tentative voice asks, and she looks up at Imsi, who’s now done with what he was cooking. “Are you all right?”

She slowly stares up at Imsi, whose face was once again full of concern and worry. She nods, a little more shakily.

“Did… I say something that triggered your past?”

The way he says it, like he cares more about her welfare than his own, makes her want to reveal the truth about herself even more.

She simply nods.

She feels someone carefully wrap his hands around her. “I… I’m so sorry.”

Instead of fighting and pushing him away from her, she slowly accepts the embrace, burying her face into his chest, the smell of roses enthralling her.

(Lunch was also just as quiet as breakfast, the only thing that is different is the hot weather around the house.)

“Why is she still here?”, Minguk asks as he arrives home, taking his shoes off and putting his bag on one of the sofas, glaring hard at Shanghai, who is once again fidgeting in her seat. Imsi looks up from his work to glare at his nephew, but it is more tiring.

“Minguk, please”, he sighs, “give her some respect. She is more than just a suspicious individual.”

He groans as he goes to his room to sulk, closing the door behind him.

“I really should have left a while ago, then”, Shanghai says softly, sighing sadly. “I’m sorry, again.”

“It’s okay. Minguk is never really fond of visitors. Don’t worry, once he gets to know you better he’ll warm up on you.”

Shanghai nods, knowing Minguk not trusting her easily is reasonable and she would not trust the family if she wasn’t so desperate in hiding herself from Teikoku. Speaking of which, she should think of a plan on how to get her friends - no, sisters - out of the brothel, wanting nothing but to see Teikoku dead at her feet. She wants to know if she could sneak inside of the brothel once again, and meet the officer who had freed her so that he and she would break her sisters out, away from the life of exploiting their bodies and into a life together, forever and ever.

She looks back at Imsi, who is once again doing his work.

“Do you like working?”, she speaks up.

He looks at her with those dark brown eyes, a hint of grieving and sadness in them, “Yeah. I really like working. It helps me relax, to be honest.”

Shanghai tilts her head, “There are other ways to relax, so why choose working as a way of relaxation?”

He gives her a small look that does not hint indignance or irritation, but the sadness in his eyes grows larger, too much that she worries he might succumb to it. “It’s the only way that can keep my mind distracted, long enough for me to help the inner workings of my brain relax. When I’m doing nothing, I think of horrible thoughts.”

She can feel her interest perk up further, as she leans further from the couch. “What kind of horrible thoughts?”

He didn’t say, which is good, because if he did say anything then that means she must say something about her in return, which was bad.

The thing about Imsi is that he gives himself away more often than keeping to himself; just the other day he was busily talking to himself in a torn bathrobe, almost looking a decade old, pacing back and forth, dark hair that is usually kept wild and not that kept. He was muttering about how it was the day where ‘she’ went missing, where ‘she’ was taken by ‘him’. When Shanghai fully comes out of her room, he stops pacing around and gives her a small but awkward smile.

“Why are you wearing a filthy bathrobe?”, she asks.

“Why are you awake at 5 in the morning?”, he replies, before shrugging. “A force of habit, especially today.”

(The first thing she learns about Imsi is that he answers her question honestly- a little too vague but he had made things clear: he can’t keep secrets of himself.)

The next day, she had gotten up early once again, a nightmare shaking up her very core (she couldn’t remember what it was about but she knows men were touching her again), and Imsi was there, with a glass of water and a concerned expression on his face. He was like a doctor, that man… too much of a doctor.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah- no, not really.” She tries to lie, but she does a complete 180 and tells him how she really truly feels, as if his genuinely concerned voice and worrying expression is enough to break the ice between them and to enter a favourable friendship.

“Bad dream again?”

She nods, choking back a sob, feeling her insides twist and churn with melancholy and grieving. The past will always catch up to her, no matter how many times she runs from the past and into the present like it was a human being, hunting her, catching her and succeeding ultimately, as the past forces her to watch the painful memories of her and her sisters being placed in the brothel, one by one, nothing else really mattering.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She doesn���t answer, because that is what always happens- she ignores his worried face as she closes her eyes, trying to remember what Nanjing and Ryukyu looks like; even the others who didn’t have the luck to be here with her, free but confined in the house.

(The second thing about Imsi is that he doesn’t seem to leave someone helpless or crying or sobbing or shouting or basically having bad feelings. And that also applies to himself. He’ll comfort every single one of them until they are free from sadness.)

Shanghai surprisingly wakes up not from dreams the next day, but from shouting.

She peeks her head out of the door, the sounds of the voices growing louder. It seems Imsi was berating Minguk again. For what, she doesn’t know.

“You shouldn’t have been wearing it while asleep!”, the sound of Imsi’s voice somewhat calming her down, but it is an octave too high for her liking, and she hopes to herself that she wouldn’t face an angry Imsi in the future.

“I forgot to take it off and that’s it, samchon!”, she could just feel Minguk rolling her eyes, because he has that energy (who’s to say he’s doing it now?).

And now she can also feel Imsi shaking his head disappointedly. “Minguk, I’m sorry to say this but you won’t be wearing your binder today.”

A pause, then-

“What the fu- samchon please! I have a tutor coming today and I’m not wearing anything other than my binder!”

Imsi just clicks his tongue, “Minguk, I know you, but sometimes you go overboard with wearing your binder. Please, for your sake and mine. I just want what’s best for you.”

“Why do I feel like what’s best for me isn’t the best?”, Minguk asks through sniffles, which is something out of the ordinary, as it seems that the boy with no feelings actually has and just has the difficulty in explaining them.

“I’m so sorry, Minguk. But you were having trouble breathing in your sleep. I love you, your mother loves you, your brother loves you.”

And now Minguk is full-on crying, rain coming down in a dry terrain, with Imsi whispering comforting and soothing words in his ear.

She meets the tutor soon enough, his presence in the same room as her making her blood run cold. He reminded her of him too much so to consider escaping. She drops her books from shock when he enters the house, looking all damp and cold from the rain outside, as a rundown of memories start torturing her, from the cold and wicked grin, the crimson red eyes swirling with madness and the cold, always cold hands pinning her to the walls or bed, as she stops squirming and just disassociates.

“Teikoku?”, she had said in a small voice, as he turned to look at her, with clear grey eyes, a parting storm.

Not Teikoku.

But enough to make her feel vulnerable and helpless again, and now Imsi knows who she truly is, but defends her in every single way against America, who is spitting out the real truth; that she was a dirty whore who was too far away from home.

“You don’t like me anymore, do you?”, Shanghai asks after dinner time, as Imsi carries out a tray of teacups and a teapot standing tall and proud in the center. He sits down from across her and tilts his head.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because…” she chokes a little, looking away from Imsi. “I’m a whore.”

He shakes his head. “No. No you’re not. No one is a whore first. You are a brilliant woman who had been unfortunately taken by Teikoku like the bastard he is. So no, you’re not a whore, and don’t you ever call yourself that.”

“You seem to have a lot more confidence in me than myself.”

He meets her eyes, sad and defensive, “It’s what I do, to make everyone feel better. I love them for what they are, I hate them for what they are.”

“But why like me rather than hate me?”

“Because it will kill me to hate someone like you.”

(They talk about how green tea is their favourite flavour of tea right after.)

Imsi treats her the same way he treats her after the incident; always giving her a second look, treating her as a functioning object rather than a broken one - thankfully - and Minguk seems to be giving her a chance as well. Imsi seems to love hearing her talk, hearing her ramble more and more about the general public and politics and opinions with no break in her voice; as if he was more invested in hearing her voice than his.

And that was - in her point of view - enlightening her. He does not treat her as a toy meant to be broken, rather than someone who needs help and is helping her in the most discreet of ways, but he still is accompanying her through some hard times.

“I like you”, she says one day, as Imsi types in his laptop, and he looks up, his face tinged with red.

“I like you too”, he replies, softer and silent. “You’re a good friend.”

She nods, “You are too.”

He snorts, “I’m a crap friend. I’m never good for anything.”

“But you helped me overcome my fears- not all, but some.”

He gives her a small smile, “It’s what I do; help people feel happy and confident about themselves.”

“Do you feel confident?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time, before saying,

“No.”

She can feel something in her that turns her into a fiery woman she once was back then. “Je bent een zelfverzekerd persoon.” She never thought she still has the expertise to talk in a language she had never exercised in the brothels, but it seems that her skills have just been pressed aside into her mind as she thinks of ways on how to survive.

He stares up at her, failure in his eyes. “Tu no sabes eso.”

Shanghai snorts, “You say that I am a smart person- so of course I know if you’re confident or not.”

Imsi stares back at the keyboard, despondent. “I’m a failure.”

“Why?”

“I just am.”

Maybe that is what hurt her about Imsi the most.

One day, Imsi and Shanghai are now in the backyard, sipping tea on the porch as she stares at the butterflies that are ravaging the peonies.

“Tell me more about her.”

“Who?”

“Nabi.”

“You know her.”

“I know her only as one of us, but not as a mother.”

Imsi nods, getting her drift. “Nabi was… sweet and kind. She’d get flustered and red at any kinds of comments, she’s always there to comfort either me or my twin brother. The one who’d become her husband one day. She is also quite fragile, but we don’t use that much to our advantage. Jeguk was quite protective of her, like any husband who loves his wife very much. Especially at how young she gave birth too.”

“How old was she when she gave birth to her sons?” Nabi talks about her sons all the time when she and the others are being left alone by men who prey on them; she seems quite attached, like Nanjing is to Taiwan.

“Sixteen.” He says it so simply, like it is no surprise that Nabi had borne two sons at a young age.

Shanghai’s eyes grow wide, “Sixteen?!”

“An accident in my brother’s part, really; when he found out she was pregnant he underwent an anxiety attack since our father wanted him to continue our legacy. In the end I told him who he would choose if our dad is out of the picture, and he chose Nabi. They were inseparable, those two.” There was a hint of sadness, and now Shanghai is thinking of Nabi and her husband holding hands… Nabi cradling her children while singing a lullaby… Nabi, being full and rich of life.

She wants to know what happened to Nabi when she was happy. When they were all happy.

“How did your dad react?”

Imsi shakes his head. “Not good; he and Jeguk argued and disowned my brother.”

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine.” He doesn’t look fine, as his eyes are clouding over with memories once again, memories of a life where everything was easier and that everything was fake but real, nonetheless. There was a searching in his eyes, wanting to see the person that completes his heart once again, as brothers, as friends in a lifetime. He wipes a stray tear that escaped away from his face, as he turns to smile at Shanghai, wanting to forget that he is indeed sad at how his life had turned out more than he will ever reveal. “More tea?”

She nods. “More tea, please.”

They enjoy the afternoon together, just the two of them.

-

dangsin-ui maeneoneun dangsin-eul tteonassseubnida- your manners have left you

Joseong haeyo- i’m sorry

Gamsahabnida- thank you

je bent een zelfverzekerd persoon- you’re a confident person

Tu no sabes eso- you don’t know that

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1966

Under the cut.

Simon And Garfunkel – “The Sound Of Silence” -- January 1, 1966

This song is beautiful and thoughtful and I love it. People apparently talk about its naivete, but it's more a sermon than a political tract. And, above all, it is gorgeous and interesting music.

The Beatles – “We Can Work It Out” -- January 8, 1966

You'd have a better chance of working it out if you weren't blaming the whole fight on the other person, Paul. But that's so often the case. Thinking you're the only one trying, when the other person is trying just as hard, and you're talking past each other. I really like John's interlude, which also makes me think he's the one fighting with Paul. It happened plenty. This isn't a top tier Beatles song, but it's good.

Petula Clark – “My Love” -- February 5, 1966

Her love is greater than any other great thing in all of the entire universe, apparently. Sunshine? Oceans? Stars? Nothing compared to how great she is at love. Petula Clark could always sing, but by the time the chorus comes around the second time, she sounds sort of embarrassed. She doesn't hit the notes with her normal confidence. It is a thoroughly embarrassing song.

Lou Christie – “Lightnin’ Strikes” -- February 19, 1966

Well I'm creeped out. This belongs a few years back, if it had to exist at all. It starts with "You're old enough to know the makings of a man" -- just how young is she? Young enough not to smack him with a brick when he tells her he just can't help but cheat on her since that's what men do, but she needs to stick around waiting for him and not do the same. If she does, he promises he'll marry her... eventually. Plus falsetto. I hate this song.

Nancy Sinatra – “These Boots Were Made For Walkin'” -- February 26, 1966

And this song is a good answer to it. Lyrically, it's the pinnacle of what a country song can do. "You keep thinking that you'll never get burned/ Ha!/ I just found me a brand new box of matches/ And what he knows you ain't had time to learn." The narrator's cheating scumbag whom she's in the process of dumping is so low, she's not even bothering to get angry with him. She's got a new, far hotter guy anyway. Musically, the instruments are themselves a Greek chorus making fun of the guy and heralding the singer's triumph. Love love love it.

Staff Sgt. Barry Sadler – “The Ballad Of The Green Berets” -- March 5, 1966

More machismo, but of the lawful rather than chaotic variety this time. This must have made a lot of people very angry at the time, but it also must have felt triumphant to a lot of others. "Fearless men who jump and die" -- that's not good! It's The Old Lie! A man dies because apparently that's just what Green Berets do, and his last request is that his son be a Green Beret too. For what? The song doesn't even say what they're fighting for! There's a line about dying for those oppressed, the same bullshit we've been fed for so long, but absolutely no details. Because it's a death cult. Oh, and the song is musically terrible too. This is horrific.

The Righteous Brothers – “(You’re My) Soul And Inspiration” -- April 9, 1966

It's another heartbreak song from The Righteous Brothers. She wants to leave, but she's his "soul and inspiration." I would like it better if it weren't a heartbreak song. It doesn't have to be. The chorus would go perfectly well with a song about how happy they are together. Meh.

The Young Rascals – “Good Lovin'” -- April 30, 1966

He says his doctor has prescribed "good lovin'". He's got the fever, you've got the cure. This could easily be creepy. It's not, because it's so fun. It's a seduction song where the seducer is trying to make his target laugh, which is the right tactic if you're light about it. Fun, good song.

The Mamas And The Papas – “Monday, Monday” -- May 7, 1966

John Philips was one of the worst people in pop music, and that's saying something. The Mamas and the Papas were a good group musically, though. This song is about how Mondays typically suck, but the narrator is happy because this Monday morning, his girlfriend is still here. And then Monday evening, she's left. He doesn't sound too upset. I find this song repetitive and boring.

Percy Sledge – “When A Man Loves A Woman” -- May 28, 1966

I don't like this song. Sledge's version is obviously better than Michael Bolton's, but the problem is the lyrics. The song doesn't say so directly, but the implication is that a man should never fall in love with a woman because she'll bring him nothing but pain. Nope.

The Rolling Stones – “Paint It Black” -- June 11, 1966

The song is about depression, specifically the depression coming from the sudden death of one's romantic partner. Which makes it a love song, in a way. It's rock, and it goes hard, and it's more achingly sad than thousands of schmaltzy songs about the same thing. It makes me cry every time. Amazing, heartbreaking song.

The Beatles – “Paperback Writer” -- June 25, 1966

This became a #1? It's mean and petty. Someone who has made it as thoroughly as it is possible to make it should not be scoffing at the little people trying to claw their way up. Musically it even sounds kinda half-assed, for the Beatles. Very much a lesser Beatles song.

Frank Sinatra – “Strangers In The Night” -- July 2, 1966

He and some woman were strangers in the night, but fell in love at first sight and became lovers, and are still together. I love the song. Sinatra was getting older, and that comes through -- his voice doesn't have the modulation and delicacy it did when he was younger. At the same time, that age gives the song a lot of heft and truth. "And ever since that night/ We've been together/ Lovers at first sight/ In love forever/ It turned out so right."

Tommy James And The Shondells – “Hanky Panky” -- July 16, 1966

His girlfriend fucks. And he shouts this fact to us over and over and over and over and... okay, look. I understand being thrilled with your first relationship in which you get sex. A lot of sex. A looooot of sex. But it's generally much more interesting to the people doing it than the people being told about it. Dull.

The Troggs – “Wild Thing” -- July 30, 1966

I don't understand anyone who doesn't start dancing, even just in their chair, when this song comes on. It's a rocking love n'sex jam with an ocarina in it. There is nothing not to love.

The Lovin’ Spoonful – “Summer In The City” -- August 13, 1966

This song comes down to: It's hot in the city during the day, but cooler at night, plus you can pick up chicks at night. The lyrics are a big nothing, but the music is great. Somehow the song got associated with the various protest movements happening at the time. Is that gonna happen with W.A.P.?

Donovan – “Sunshine Superman” -- September 3, 1966

It just occurred to me that R.E.M. may have been inspired to write "Superman" by this song. It's the same basic premise, except that unlike R.E.M., Donovan doesn't realize he's being egotistical to the point of being scary by saying he will use every trick in the book to get this girl. Well okay, "Donovan" and "scary" are tough to put in the same sentence. The song is musically great. Think about the lyrics for a minute, and they're disturbing. I don't really know what to do with this.

The Supremes – “You Can’t Hurry Love” -- September 10, 1966

"Love don't come easy/ It's a game of give and take." Yep. And if you do try to hurry it, you're likely to end up with one of the jerks from the first few Supremes hits. Normally I would say to avoid getting advice from pop songs, but I'll make an exception for "You Can't Hurry Love." This is a welcome evolution, and an excellent song.

The Association – “Cherish” -- September 24, 1966

Glurge. Such glurge, I thought this was a 70s song before now. I actually cannot listen to the whole song. The music hurts me somehow. So I read the lyrics to see what they are, and blurgh. It's about how he can't figure out how to say he wants her and none of the other guys really care for her and that's it I'm done. Atrociously bad.

The Four Tops – “Reach Out I’ll Be There” -- October 15, 1966

A phenomenal song. You need a hand to hold. Yes, you. And The Four Tops will be there for you. Huge numbers of pop songs -- a plurality, at least -- are sung to "you." But this one feels like it really is. Levi Stubbs is going to be there for you. And this song has been there for me throughout my life.

? And The Mysterians – “96 Tears” -- October 29, 1966

So, this guy renamed himself ?. I would expect a song that involved someone named ? to be much odder. Maybe it was at the time, though the organ sounds mostly like Baby Elephant Walk (though not as good.) ? speak-sings that he's gonna get the person who dumped him back, and then he's going to dump them, and they'll cry 96 tears. That is odd, admittedly. Why 96? That doesn't sound like very many. One good cry would probably do it. The organ is the most interesting thing about the song, which is sadly not nearly weird enough for the band's name.

The Monkees – “Last Train To Clarksville” -- November 5, 1966

One of my friends was a huge Monkees fan when we were teenagers. She was born in 1977. The Monkees were on Nick at Nite (I think), so I did see a few episodes. She watched them religiously. She insisted their music was great, and I was like... really? Sadly, I was snobbish about it, and entirely because the show was so doofy. Their music really was pretty damn good. Though this song sounds like the younger brothers of The Beatles trying to copy them. Still, they did a pretty good job of it.

Johnny Rivers – “Poor Side Of Town” -- November 12, 1966

The narrator's girl left him to be with a rich guy. The rich guy discarded her, so now she's back on the poor side of town. The narrator rubs it into her face for a verse and a half, but then he says that to him she's "the greatest thing", and he doesn't blame her for trying. By the end of the song, he says he and the girl will be able to make it together. The lyrics are good. Unfortunately, the music and singing are dull. Someone should take these lyrics and make a much better song out of them.

The Supremes – “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” -- November 19, 1966

For once, Diana Ross gets to be appropriately angry at a jerk. By the end of the song, she's commanding him to get out of her life. I have been where she is in this song, and it ties you up in knots. It deserves more of a full opera than a high-energy dance song. But this song is still great.

The New Vaudeville Band – “Winchester Cathedral” -- December 3, 1966

This is a British music hall song. Whether you like it will depend on whether you like that very singular genre. I do, in small doses. If it had been a #1 hit at any time when I was listening to radio, I'd have hated it. I can only identify "Winchester Cathedral" out of the lyrics, and the rest don't matter anyway. The song is fun and annoying in equal measure, and hearing it once every five years or so sounds about right.

The Beach Boys – “Good Vibrations” -- December 10, 1966

This is my favorite Beach Boys song. Musically, it's astonishing. It's the song that persuaded me of the "Brian Wilson is a genius" stuff I kept hearing. It also has much better lyrics than most Beach Boys songs, as they are like the lyrics of a typical pop song. Except with a lot more "om bop bop" and the word "excitations." It sounds like it's going to have a slow, soft fade-out, and then the main chorus comes roaring back. One of the great pop songs.

The Monkees – “I’m A Believer” -- December 31, 1966

I think this is the best Monkees song. He didn't believe in love, then he "saw her face", now he's a believer. Has he even talked to her? Doubtful. That's okay, it's not meant to be anything but a cheery pop song. The beginning guitar does sound sort of like George Harrison, but the rest of the song is a bit more distant from the Beatles than "Last Train to Clarksville." They sound like a confident, real pop group, though they weren't allowed to play the instruments on it, which most of them were not happy about. They still ended up participating in a memorable song.

BEST OF 1966: This one is hard. I was tempted to make it a tie between about a half dozen songs. I think I have to give it to "Paint it Black" though. Maybe. Then again, "I'll Be There" is a heartlifting titan. And "You Can't Hurry Love" is timeless and something more people need to hear. And "Good Vibrations" is a musical triumph. Then there's "The Sound of Silence." And... discuss amongst yourselves. WORST OF 1966: No question. "Ballad of the Green Berets." Nothing in any year is worse.

[houseswolo]

Day 17 - 'Tis The Season To Be Thirsting

"Oh come all ye Forceful..."

The last of our Thirsties to be showcased:

Wilson

(Tumblr: @wilsonthinks66​ | Twitter: Wilsonthinks66 | Ao3: Wilson66)

What got you into Star Wars?

When a certain Adam Driver revealed his beautiful face in The Force Awakens 😍 helloo handsome

What made you a Reylo? Lightbulb moment!

"You're not alone." "Neither are you."

I think I told Luke to piss off and let them kiss!

Why do you write / make art?

Because why not?! I write when I have that little niggling idea that just won't go away.

The Object of your Thirst…

Oh so many but if we're sticking to the Star Wars it's got to be the beautiful Adam Driver and my favourite ginger Domhnall Gleeson

Which Adam look do you like the best?

Unwrapped and bare chested 🤤😍

Which Adam avatar/ role do you like the best?

Flip Zimmerman, I think my stomach literally flipped (pun intended 😏) when Adam wheeled around on that chair 💦💦

Which part of Adam do you like the best? 

A part? How can you only pick one part.

Favorite Star Wars Movie

Probably The Force Awakens, it was the film that made me watch the others in preparation, although Rogue one is a close second.

What do you like to write / draw / paint the most?

Don't judge me but I love writing angst obviously with a well earned happy ending. This is what I want to write as I've made a promise to myself to focus on what I enjoy reading/writing and not worry about others' opinions.

**Eyes the dark Evil Rey idea that won't leave me alone recently**

We'll get to you soon.

(HS: Dooo eeeet!)

Your TRoS Prediction

They all live happily ever after... Hux included 🤞❤️ no I know that may be too optimistic but I do hope we get Bendemption 😍

If you were an aesthetic... (colors, images, feels....)

Red and black are my favourite colour combination, although I adore autumn colours too��🧡

What's your ideal environment for writing / creating? 

Silence 😂 seriously I am so easily distracted that I need solitary confinement 😅 which may be why I sometimes struggle to finish fics.

Are you a dom or sub? 

Switch baby! 🤘 For the perfect partner I'll be whatever they need 😏

What's the most exotic/wierd place you've gotten intimate?

I've spent most of my life at yards, I'm not going to miss the opportunity to roll about the straw barn, now am I? 🙊

What's your kink?

Who doesn't love a good Dom but on the flip who doesn't love a well-behaved sub? 🤷 I'm easily pleased.

Use three words to describe yourself

Loyal, kind (I hope I come across as such) and argumentative sometimes because I can fall out with myself if I'm that way inclined 😂

Meaning behind your nick / ID name

Well it's my name and I wasn't feeling imaginative 😅

Are you a big spoon or little spoon?

I'm a don't touch me while a sleep spoon, solitary spoon 😘

Do you like it rough or soft? 

See if you pick one, you lose out on the other. I'm too greedy for that.

Favorite fic you read

Unexpected by pontmercy44. The first star wars fandom fic I ever read that introduced me into this world, I guess.

Favorite fic you wrote or favorite art you made

Decades to Fall for Sunshineflying. A reyux fic (don't shoot the multishipper!) That I just loved writing and wish that every fic was that easy to create. 😍❤️

Favorite SW character besides Kylo and Rey

Oh well this is so hard for me umm 🤔 maybe that ginger General of First Order... I struggle to remember his name 😘 love me some Hux

______

Taz

(Tumblr: @tazwren | Twitter: WrenTaz | Ao3: TazWren & TrashcanWren)

What got you into Star Wars?

Literally, a lightsaber being stuck into my hand, at 7yrs, and being asked to be Vader to my cousin’s Luke Skywalker. I’d never heard of SW till that moment, and I fell headfirst into the Dark Side and in love with the galaxy far, far away! Its been the one franchise that as been a constant for me, the whole time growing up, and I’ve loved having something SW to look forward to every few years. SW and Reylo lifer! 😁😁😎😎

What made you a Reylo? Lightbulb moment!

“You are not alone.” The minute Kylo/Ben said those words, I was gone for Reylo. No true villain would give a flying fuck about his so-called adversary’s mental and emotional health. When their hands touched? I screeched in that theatre! And I may have yelled at Luke as well. Walked out and hunted for Kylo/Rey fanfics and the rest was history!

Why do you write / make art?

I do because the stories show up and make it impossible for me to do anything else but tell them. They buzz and breed and drown out all other sounds, like manic mosquitoes. They can be quite a nuisance that way, but... *throws up hands* ... I gots to do what they tell me to do! 😆

The Object of your Thirst…

Uh, do I even need to answer this? Adam Douglas Driver, Mr.Sensitive-on-a-stick, BDE Boss hisself 😎😏

Once I discovered him, all others ceased to exist for me. (Hugh, who? Chris, what?)

Which Adam look do you like the best?

I like Adam every which way, but my favorites are with facial scruff and slightly shaggy hair - Phillip Altman meets Ben Swolo. Oooh, anytime he is a sweater (or half out of one!) or with his shirtsleeves rolled up. So, um, yeah... 😁

Which Adam avatar/ role do you like the best?

Philip Altman is BAE - he always lightens my heart. And Ben Solo? He owns the frickin’ thing. So yeah, anyone who knows me, knows one ain’t enough 😏

Which part of Adam do you like the best?

His face - it’s so emotive and expressive! His eyes, those lips, that smile that launches a gazillion ships. His hands, his strong-ass arms. That glorious mane of hair. Have I mentioned them tiddies and the tree-trunk thighs?! Oh, and when he flexes his back, and...

Uh... let’s just say, everything Adam? 

Favorite Star Wars Movie

The Last Jedi was the most beautifully written and shot movie in the entire franchise, with a depth of characterization and exploration of symbolism that was brilliant. This will always rate as the best for me. A close second, and one I will always love, is Empire Strikes Back. That was quintessential Star Wars and an amazingly good watch - snark, action, angst, love, betrayal, rescue, OMFG!

What do you like to write / draw / paint the most?

Until I started writing Reylo, I’d never been able to write fiction. I could never visualize the stories. And once I started, I haven’t been able to stop! I’ll write anything Reylo, I’ll try writing anything at least once (so, yeah, there may be dark fic as well one day!). My style defaults to either mildly angsty, or humour-laced fluff, or depraved smut. So, not sure what that says about me 😂

Your TRoS Prediction

Bendemption. Reylo. *mic drop*

If you were an aesthetic... (colors, images, feels....)

Blacks, Reds, Greys, slashes of bright turquoise and white and ochre. Blue and white-striped awnings shading an alfresco cafe, overlooking a green ocean. Bright, city lights, reds and yellows glinting off the black water of a bay. A busy airport, with the scents of perfume from Duty-Free as you zoom past it.

If you were a candy bar, what would your name be?

The Ever-lasting Gobstopper 😂

What's your ideal environment for writing / creating?

In a hotel room, on my own. In the back of cab, in the window-seat of an airplane. At my desk, looking out through the window as the breeze blows through the trees, and the Burn This playlist keeps going on repeat. 

Are you a dom or sub?

Both? Both is good.

What's the most exotic/wierd place you've gotten intimate?

On the back of a bike, in the middle of the night, stopped at a traffic intersection.

What's your kink?

Size. Hands. Humour. Fidelity, and yet threesomes (go figure, I’m depraved). Mild Dom. Intelligence and thoughtfulness. Hair. Fuck it, Adam.

Use three words to describe yourself

Loyal, funny, organized-chaos (its a thing, trust me!)

Meaning behind your nick / ID name

I’ve always had Taz as a nickname, for the Warner Bros Tasmanian Devil (yes, I’ve been known to be exactly like that! 😂). Wren is a nod to Kylo Ren, and the fact that one of the earliest fanfics I read had Rey naming her son ‘Wren’ as a backhanded pointer to Kylo! So I’m, Taz, a Knight of Ren.

Are you a big spoon or little spoon?

I can be both, till I fall asleep. Then, pls leave me tf alone 😬😁

Do you like it rough or soft?

Both - why choose?!

Favorite fic you read

There are so very many in this amazing fandom! The one that I’ve loved from the beginning, though, is The Art of Broken Pieces - a beautifully written Bendemption fic. 

Favorite fic you wrote or favorite art you made

God, this is hard! My recent favorites are Brooklyn Bridge Blues, Caught Between Beats, and A Taste For Two - I like that I’m able to explore a variety of stories and emotions through them. I’m most proud of Confidences To A Stranger because I was able to explore a storytelling medium that I hadn’t before. 

Favorite SW character besides Kylo and Rey

Padme Amidala - she reminds me of my mother and grandmother, both of whom were strong women, who got shit done, while always taking care of their people. She was a queen in more than just name. Han Solo - I am weak for a scoundrel/villain/bad boy in a leather jacket, with a hardass, snarky exterior that hides a heart of gold. The reluctant hero.💙

____

Meet the other Thristies! Thirst Order Advent Calendar Day:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

cc: @tazwren @drnucleus @ashtyntaytertot @deadlikemoi @nite0wl29 @thereylowritingden @houseplaidam @housedadam @house-crylo @housereysistance @my-jedi-life @shestoolazytologin @koderenn @thoseindarkness @areylofan @lostinqueue-ffa @queenoferebor  @cosmo-gonika @roguesinside @wilsonthinks66  @dangertaylor @lilia-ula @wandering-minds-found @looc-at-me @hopelesslyreylo @ferashacosplay @andabatae-writes @semperfidani ​ @reylo-fade-to-grey @cb-lainey-schooled

[paulbenedictblog]

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Fox news Power Rankings: Brady's Bucs higher than Pats - NFL.com

Fox news

COVID-19 would possibly possibly well own humanity in hiding, but the Energy Rankings cower from nothing and no person.

We're relieve for the critical time in seven weeks, checking in on groups after the critical wave of free company. We'll traipse this relieve all any other time after the draft. Need more of an NFL fix for the interval of these unsure events? Test out the Spherical The NFL Podcast, hosted by yours the truth is, which is coming at you 5 days per week for the interval of this profoundly out of the ordinary time in human historical previous.

OK, relieve to my cave. Are trying now no longer to get too worked up regarding the keep your team sits on March 24. As fresh world events own made abundantly clear, life can trade in a whisk.

Be get and assign healthy, pals.

NOTE: Team slide below displays changes from the post-Significant Bowl LIV Energy Rankings.

Outdated imperfect: No. 1

The defending champions own been soundless in the critical wave of free company. Which is ... challenging. Kansas City slapped the franchise tag on Chris Jones when it couldn't get a prolonged-time frame deal completed with the standout defensive lineman. A vital defender used to be lost when Kendall Fuller returned to the Redskins. On the quite quite a bit of side of the ball, receiver Sammy Watkins is composed right here. The dilapidated wideout used to be idea to be a skill cap casualty, but he stays a Chiefs employee as of this writing. We'll gaze if it stays that manner.

Outdated imperfect: No. 2

Honest for general manager John Lynch and coach Kyle Shanahan for resisting temptation. Tom Brady has prolonged been linked to the team he rooted for as a boy, and NFL conditions aligned to the stage that Brady in a Niners uniform turned a very precise possibility. But sticking with Jimmy Garoppolo is the orderly prolonged-time frame transfer; it's miles that this humble Energy Ranker's conception that Jimmy G will get completely too great guff from the Football Cognoscenti. Procuring and selling away the out of the ordinary DeForest Buckner definitely stings, nonetheless it puts the defending NFC champions in space to enter subsequent month's draft with a pair of first-spherical picks. No longer a heinous articulate to be.

Outdated imperfect: No. 5

Packers followers had to wince after they saw megastar wideout DeAndre Hopkins get moved to the Cardinals for decrease than a first-spherical fetch. There had prolonged been rumblings about Hopkins and Bill O'Brien being in a now no longer-so-immense articulate earlier than the change. Did Packers GM Brian Gutekunst ever fetch up the cellular phone? Bewitch show cowl of this yet one other instance of why we need a GM App that connects all these guys. Correct imagine Hopkins and Davante Adams working routes for Aaron Rodgers! It ain't going down, and it appears to be like to be worship the important upgrades on the flexibility positions can own to sit down up for the draft. Unsolicited advice for Gutie: Call the Bengals and kick the tires on A.J. Green.

Outdated imperfect: No. 6

With a new deal for Ryan Tannehill and the franchise tag for Derrick Henry, the Titans will enter the 2020 campaign with the two gamers who guided them to the brink of an AFC title, alongside with a playoff conquest in Foxborough in January. (Rapid aside: Congrats to free agent Logan Ryan, who can continuously whine he intercepted Tom Brady's closing proceed as a Patriot and took it to the tip zone.) No longer your whole news used to be factual in the critical wave of free company, though: Stunning take care of Jack Conklin, a extinct prime-10 fetch who robotically blew open working lanes for Henry, is now in Cleveland on a rich free-agent deal. Coming off a monster 2019 workload and absent a key traipse blocker, it's gorgeous to surprise if a dip in manufacturing is coming for Henry.

Outdated imperfect: No. 7

In a few of the surprise twists of free company, Jadeveon Clowney stays on the open market at publishing. This is able to bode effectively for the Seahawks, who own a standing offer that will well discontinue up being basically the most efficient one Clowney receives. Groups that are traipse effectively keep of abode a trace on a player and follow it, resisting the temptation to overpay and restrict their alternate choices down the avenue. We'll gaze if GM John Schneider is rewarded for his prudence.

Outdated imperfect: No. 12

GM Howie Roseman made a giant splash with his change for cornerback Darius Abolish, a proven distinction-maker who addresses a giant keep of need in the Eagles' secondary and helps mitigate the loss of Malcolm Jenkins, who signed with the Saints. Roseman historical free company to land defensive take care of Javon Hargrave, a monster on the inner and a challenging complement to Fletcher Cox and Malik Jackson. The protection feels worship it's in a better articulate, but what regarding the quite quite a bit of side of the ball? Carson Wentz wants some explosive playmakers he can count on. Receiver Robby Anderson is composed obtainable and is colorful. Roseman also can select the draft to tackle a obvious need at that space.

Outdated imperfect: No. 16

All I must attain is discuss about Ben Roethlisberger's beard. Or now no longer it's challenging and mysterious and monstrous and strange and comforting ... all on the related time. It appears to be like to be worship Mammoth Ben has been in quarantine since closing March. The exit of Javon Hargrave to the Eagles hurts, but the Steelers acted rapidly to tackle the loss by buying and selling with the Ravens(!) for defensive lineman Chris Wormley. On offense, Roethlisberger will get a new crimson-zone weapon in tight discontinue Eric Ebron, who's one season eradicated from a 13-touchdown campaign with Andrew Good fortune and the Colts. Ebron is a fallacious player, but the extinct first-spherical fetch has a chance to position up numbers in Pittsburgh's two tight discontinue offense.

Outdated imperfect: No. 13

The Cowboys made the transfer they felt they'd to, biting down exhausting and making Amari Cooper a few of the very splendid-paid wide receivers in football. Cooper, Ezekiel Elliott and Dak Prescott would possibly possibly comprise basically the most efficient keep of abode of "triplets" in the NFL, but Dallas can own a lot of cash invested in honest three gamers (assuming the franchise-tagged Dak in the end will get that prolonged-time frame deal). To invent this work, Dallas can own to be orderly and effective in the 2nd and third wave of free company, then the draft. Used All-Authentic Gerald McCoy used to be a solid signing on the inner line of defense, but gamers out the door consist of cornerback Byron Jones, proceed rusher Robert Quinn, receiver Randall Cobb, tight discontinue Jason Witten and defensive take care of Maliek Collins. Oh, and Authentic Bowl center Travis Frederick honest retired. Jerrah and Co. own work to realize.

Outdated imperfect: No. 19

Tom Brady is the quarterback of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Or now no longer it's miles the splendid free-agent transfer in the historical previous of the franchise, and it instantly makes the Bucs one of basically the most compelling groups in the NFL. It used to be the uncommon perfect transfer in free company: Brady will get a two-one year deal for now no longer extreme money (two years and $50 million, with $9 million in incentives) to raise his unmatched trip and management to town. It also frees the Bucs from the purgatory that comes with Jameis Winston as your starting quarterback. Tampa Bay tried to invent it work with the extinct No. 1 general fetch, nonetheless it honest never came about. Brady will enter Week 1 at 43 years extinct, but he is rarely the truth is been this motivated, and he'll own star gamers to throw the ball to. This would possibly possibly own to be enjoyable.

Outdated imperfect: No. 20

Peter King wrote this week that Tom Brady had ardour in signing with the Colts, so assign shut into consideration it vital that Indy never made a contract offer to the G.O.A.T. The team as a change invested its resources in Philip Rivers, giving the longtime Chargers star a one-one year, $25 million deal that instantly upgrades the quarterback space whereas giving Frank Reich and Chris Ballard wiggle room to devise for the prolonged traipse on the distance. Brian Hoyer signed with Original England over the weekend after being launched by the Colts, an indication that Jacoby Brissett will sprint relieve into his more pure space as a No. 2 man. The Colts own as factual a chance as anybody to whine the AFC South in 2020.

Outdated imperfect: No. 11

Procuring and selling a 26-one year-extinct star receiver coming off relieve-to-relieve 1,000-yard seasons is rarely the truth is easy, but the Vikings did what they'd to realize with Stefon Diggs. It appeared worship Diggs used to be never going to be gratified in Minnesota, and the resolution to elongate quarterback Kirk Cousins the truth is sealed Diggs' destiny in red. So that they flipped the playmaker to the Funds for four draft picks, alongside with a first-rounder. That's better than acceptable compensation for an out of the ordinary wideout who's composed presumably a hasten or two in the relieve of the gorgeous elites at his space. The receive-now Vikings own 12 draft picks subsequent month, alongside with two in the critical spherical at Nos. 22 and 25 general. A Diggs change and a cornerback (or three) are on the menu.

Outdated imperfect: No. 9

Or now no longer it's a change that will well proceed down as a few of the splendid heists ever: DeAndre Hopkins and a fourth-spherical fetch to the Cardinals for David Johnson, a 2nd-rounder and a fourth-rounder. Hopkins, arguably basically the most efficient wideout in the NFL, used to be despatched packing for 50 cents on the greenback in a seismic change that puts coach/GM Bill O'Brien instantly below the spotlight (and most likely on the sizzling seat) worship never earlier than. Hopkins historical social media to determine out to downplay reviews of a fractured relationship with his head coach, and O'Brien can fresh the change to his boss as a transfer that provides future cap reduction, imports a high quality player in Johnson and delivers welcome draft capital. But c'mon. On paper, the Texans obtained loads worse. You furthermore mght can splendid surprise what Deshaun Watson is thinking, especially now that he's in Cryptic Tweet Mode.

Outdated imperfect: No. 8

Or now no longer it's almost now no longer skill to imagine a scenario all over which Tom Brady is now no longer the quarterback of the Original England Patriots. And yet, right here ... we ... are. The G.O.A.T. now grazes in Tampa, and the Patriots did no longer invent a transfer to add a quarterback to their roster till this previous weekend, after they welcomed Brian Hoyer relieve for a third stint with the team. Is it doubtless Bill Belichick would possibly possibly enter camp with a quarterback room headlined by Jarrett Stidham, a 2019 fourth-spherical fetch with four occupation proceed makes an are attempting, and Hoyer, a occupation backup coming into his age-35 season? Seems now presumably no longer, but Original England so far has passed on the quite quite a bit of vital QBs on the open market. The Brady-Belichick divorce changes every thing: at 1 Patriot Position, in the AFC East and all around the overall NFL.

Outdated imperfect: No. 14

Commerce happens hasty in the NFL: The Rams own rapidly long gone from an group on the rise to a team in transition. Working relieve Todd Gurley, the extinct face of the franchise and the man who once appeared destined to open up Sofi Stadium because the constructing's greatest star, used to be launched and rapidly signed by the Falcons. With reference to half of the team's starting protection from 2019 can own to get changed. Groups are calling about receiver Brandin Cooks. There are composed constructing block pieces in articulate ( Jared Goff, Aaron Donald and Jalen Ramsey originate a rattling solid basis), but the Significant Bowl window has closed for the time being. Can Sean McVay and Les Snead re-open it?

Outdated imperfect: No. 15

Solid work by the Falcons in the critical week of the league one year. The team imported two Rams stars in working relieve Todd Gurley and proceed rusher Dante Fowler Jr., then changed tight discontinue Austin Hooper (off to Cleveland on a giant-money deal) by buying and selling for extinct Ravens first-spherical fetch Hayden Hurst, a younger player with legit upside. Fowler is an give a select to over Vic Beasley, who signed with the Titans, nonetheless it's Gurley who exists because the team's immense curiosity. The chronic knee subject can't be now no longer famend, but is it doubtless the Rams' regression alongside their offensive line used to be lost sight of as an reason in the relieve of Gurley's pedestrian play in 2019? We'll gather out in September. (Confidently.)

Outdated imperfect: No. 23

The Browns proceed to realize effectively this time of one year. Cleveland acted hasty because the negotiation window opened, touchdown tight discontinue Austin Hooper and pretty take care of Jack Conklin, the two most efficient gamers on the market at their respective positions. The Conklin transfer used to be especially major, because the Browns must attain every thing of their vitality to dapper up the pocket for Baker Mayfield in his pivotal third season. If Cleveland can land a legit left take care of with the 10th general fetch, this would possibly possibly well own turned a team weak point into a strength. One attention-grabbing show cowl: Case Keenum obtained $10 million in assured money to be Mayfield's backup. That's loads. Hmmmm ...

Outdated imperfect: No. 21

The Jets own drafted as poorly as anybody in the league over the closing decade, and too generally, the team has tried to invent up for that shortcoming with excessive-profile free-agent signings that hardly determine. GM Joe Douglas used to be brought in to trade how the team does industry, and we now own considered that by the critical wave of free company. Douglas passed on making a giant splash in prefer of a soundless rebuild of the offensive line. The Jets added three new starters (LT George Fant, C Connor McGovern, OG Greg Van Roten) on good deals, and would possibly possibly add a fourth new starter with the No. 11 fetch in the draft. Huge receiver Robby Anderson, in the period in-between, stays on the open market. Could per chance presumably Anderson discontinue up relieve with the Jets on a demonstrate-it deal? It can well even be a most efficient-case scenario for Original York.

Outdated imperfect: No. 17

The Bears did what all and sundry anticipated, bringing in a dilapidated name model to compete with Mitch Trubisky. That dilapidated is Gash Foles, the extinct Significant Bowl MVP who endured a nightmarish (but very profitable) one-season stint with the Jaguars. Trubisky will doubtless enter practicing camp because the presumed starter, but retaining off Foles would possibly be great more refined than preserving off Traipse Daniel used to be a one year prior to now. Attach aside it this kind: There is a very factual chance Foles ends up starting more video games subsequent one year than the extinct first-spherical fetch hypothetically sooner than him on the depth chart. The Robert Quinn signing used to be ... challenging. The transfer to raise in 33-one year-extinct Jimmy Graham, who did subsequent to nothing with Aaron Rodgers throwing him spirals, makes you surprise if GM Ryan Dawdle will ever determine the tight discontinue space.

Outdated imperfect: No. 26

If the Cardinals weren't working towards social distancing, absolutely there would own been a event in Glendale after GM Steve Keim landed wide receiver DeAndre Hopkins. It used to be the uncommon perfect change, a transfer that supplied 2nd-one year QB Kyle Murray a legit No. 1 wide receiver with out mortgaging the prolonged traipse by surrendering top fee draft picks. Throw in the indisputable fact that Arizona managed to unload the redundant David Johnson and his bloated contract, and this would possibly possibly proceed down because the splendid change heist since Mike Ditka gave up his whole draft class for Ricky Williams. (That the truth is came about, kids.) The Cardinals improved their protection, as effectively, with the additions of linebacker Devon Kennard and defensive take care of Jordan Phillips. The Cardinals also can very effectively be a player in the NFC West, worship, gorgeous now.

Outdated imperfect: No. 24

You knew a spending spree used to be coming in Miami, and that is the reason precisely what came about. The Dolphins, armed with more cap apartment than any team in the league, handed out a bunch of huge money contracts in the critical week of the league one year to lock up cornerback Byron Jones, linebacker Kyle Van Noy, defensive discontinue Shaq Lawson and offensive take care of Ereck Vegetation on deals that all equaled on the least three years and $30 million. Jones is now the very splendid-paid cornerback in the NFL. Jordan Howard used to be brought aboard to again select the NFL's worst speeding assault in 2019. The subsequent half is the splendid, though: Can the Dolphins land their quarterback of the prolonged traipse in the draft? Within the event that they fetch gorgeous, they're a player in the wide-open AFC East. Really!

Outdated imperfect: No. 27

The Giants own a fresh open in an Eli-free world, and their work in free company so far signifies Mammoth Blue is now taking a more methodical manner to team constructing. GM Dave Gettleman made a few splashes, alongside with cornerback James Bradberry and heart linebacker Blake Martinez on mighty deals, and the resolution to franchise Leonard Williams came with a hefty trace trace ($16.1 million). However the whispers connecting the Giants to Jadeveon Clowney proved to be counterfeit, and the team did no longer invent a giant splurge to present a select to the offensive line that many predicted. Catch now no longer be shocked if Gettleman uses the Giants' first draft fetch (No. 4 general) to tackle the team's offensive line or proceed-traipse wants.

Outdated imperfect: No. 31

The Bengals the truth is spent some money in free company! Maintain been they sending a message to Joe Burrow that they're certainly a team enthralling and willing to compete? Potentially now no longer, nonetheless it's enjoyable to join dots. The Bengals historical the franchise tag to assign onto receiver A.J. Green, then lifted the NFL's worst protection with huge-money deals for defensive take care of D.J. Reader and cornerback Trae Waynes. All told, the Bengals spent $95 million on the two veterans. In step with ESPN Stats & Files learn, Cincy had now no longer committed better than $26 million to a single free agent since 2015. With Burrow ready in the wings, the Bengals would possibly be willing to rise. For precise.

Outdated imperfect: No. 30

Ron Rivera ended up importing the quarterback from Charlotte we all anticipated ... Kyle Allen. This is able to now no longer own been the splash transfer some anticipated in Washington, nonetheless it's miles colorful to present Dwayne Haskins one other one year to fabricate, and Allen is a solid backup kind who already knows new coordinator Scott Turner's offense. Top doubtless-case scenario right here is Allen helps Haskins absorb a new offense, and Haskins' sport elevates consequently. Kendall Fuller used to be a solid add to the secondary. On the downside, the Trent Williams stalemate is coming into into the substandard direction. The left take care of's agent launched an announcement on Tuesday that opened with the next plea: "The connection between the Redskins and Trent Williams has reached a level the keep it's in basically the most efficient ardour that the Redskins change or commence him."

Outdated imperfect: No. 28

The Jags are starting over. Cornerback A.J. Bouye, defensive lineman Calais Campbell and quarterback Gash Foles own been all moved in trades after closing one year's grim 6-10 perform. Dart rusher Yannick Ngakoue is a staunch tag-and-change candidate. Yes, a childhood slide is on in Jacksonville, and Gardner Minshew appears to be like to be worship he'll get the possibility to handbook the manner. A whole lot of vital dilapidated QB alternate choices stay on the market, but the Jaguars would possibly be wise to present Minshew a corpulent season to show cowl what he can attain. This also can very effectively be a developmental one year for the franchise; why put a 30-one thing QB below center? Jacksonville did hand LB Joe Schobert a hefty deal and signed dilapidated cornerback Darqueze Dennard, but right here's a team with its survey on the next day.

Be conscious Dan Hanzus on Twitter @DanHanzus.