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untaemedqueen · 2 years

Text

The Deal

Drug Lord!Yoongi x Coffee Shop Owner!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 23.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love, Gunshot Wounds

Warnings For This Chapter: Blood, Gunshot, Depressing Thoughts

"Do you want to make any changes to the house?" Yoongi inquires, opening the car door for you.

The whole ride over to the event, he's been incredibly considerate and incredibly sweet.

In some strange way it feels as if you're already married or something.

Although in a way, you guess you are.

"I haven't really thought about it," you breathe, stepping out of the car.

Yoongi wraps his arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple sweetly. "Well if you want to make it more domestic or more your own then you're more than welcome to do so. Just know that everything we do, we pay in cash. So you tell me what you want and I'll get it done for you." he promises.

You're blown away by how much he's changed daily. But it only makes your thoughts and assumptions ring true. All of your ideas that Yoongi was just jaded and child-like because he grew up that way continues to ring true.

Now with the opportunity to grow and lean on someone else -- he's blossoming.

He's becoming the man he always could have been if Sedra hadn't stunted his growth as a person.

"Maybe we can make a garden or something, that'd be wonderful," you suggest.

"You like to garden?" he asks, opening the door for you.

"Never tried it before but it always seemed fun."

"Then we'll get you a garden," he quips, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

The loud jazz music begins to bleed through the event space and you're almost consumed by it in a mere instant.

When heads turn to you, they stare and you're ready to make yourself smaller, ready to get insecure before you remember that large tiger on your chest.

Yoongi taps the underside of your chin, silently reminding you to stay strong and stay above it all.

"They're staring," you hiss through your teeth, bowing to people when they bow first.

"Let them." Yoongi simply replies, kissing your cheek.

He grabs two glasses of champagne, handing you one as people begin to flock over to you.

You haven't ever even met most of these people. You've only ever seen them in passing or in the book you rigorously studied to know who were in the mob families.

"Well," you hear someone exclaim, shoving through the groups of people that surround you. "It seems as if Min Yoongi has found himself a keeper."

The voice belongs to none other than Olive.

She gives you a kiss on either cheek, brandishing a wicked smile.

"Hello Olive," Yoongi drolls, running his thumb over your side soothingly.

"Soraya, come say hi to Yoongi's wife," Olive breathes, staring at your tattoo.

You're sure that she's trying to find a flaw and you're so completely confident in her not being able to find one that you turn your attention to the woman on her right.

She's simply gorgeous with long brunette hair that ends just above her tailbone. She's in a pretty black gown with diamonds scattered on every inch of skin you can see.

"Hi, nice to meet you," she chirps, giving you a kind smile.

Her voice is sweet, not the tiniest bit of sarcasm or wit to be found.

"Soraya, how are you?" your boyfriend smiles, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

You're suddenly reminded of how close Yug used to be with the family and you're not surprised that Yoongi is fond of this seemingly soft woman.

"I'm very happy for you," she squeals to the scarred man and he chuckles in reply.

"Thank you very much. Y/N is amazing."

"Yes, yes. Very well done Yoongi. But I can't help but think… what would Sedra say?" Olive muses, looking down at her nails.

Yoongi clamps a cigar between his teeth, raising an eyebrow at how bold the woman has become in an instant.

You strike a match for him, putting it to his cigar and he winks at you with amusement alight in his mocha irises.

"I think she would be so unamused that she'd have to rely on Jae for all of his drearily witty comments."

Olive's snide smirk falters and she seems displeased by how unaffected the drug lord is by her words.

"Well she couldn't be here tonight because she's giving birth. Any thoughts on that?" the heiress grinds out, looking at the both of you.

Yoongi puffs on his cigar, letting the smoke lazily drift past his lips engulfing her in a shroud of smoke.

"I think that's wonderful. I hope her and Jae have a very healthy baby and I can only hope that Y/N has a healthy baby in the future when we start trying. Now, if you'll excuse us, I promised my old lady some gambling." the scarred man quips, pressing his hand to your lower back and ushering you away from them.

"It was nice to meet you, Soraya! I hope to talk again soon!" you beam, wrapping your arms around Yoongis.

"Me too! So nice to mee-"

"Oh shut up, Soraya!" Olive snaps, stamping her foot.

The evening seems to flow by quickly.

You never thought you'd ever be so invested in gambling games but it's turning out to be very interesting as the night continues.

No matter which table you end up at, whether it's blackjack or Chinese poker -- Yoongi excels at it.

He's the luckiest son of a bitch within these fanciful estate walls.

You've been finding the chocolate fountain and the multitude of pastries being served by waiters to be one of the more incredible parts of the evening.

Even after small verines of wonderfully paired raspberry jellies and chocolate ganaches, it's simmered down to small macarons that accompany the dessert wines quite well.

Yoongi has attended to you so thoroughly throughout the night it's hard to believe that he ever closed off and distant. He showers you with attention, with love, everything grandiose in feeling.

You've sat on his lap throughout the night, accepting narrowed looks from women with smaller tattoos with no gold outline and even smaller diamonds scattered across their declate.

It's funny to think of how absolutely against this you were. You swore from the very beginning that you'd never be comfortable enough with him to end up perching on his lap at any event. And yet, now it's the only place you'd want to be seated.

When the drug lord touches you, he makes his actions very public. He's showing everyone in the room just exactly how important you are to him and to his family. He's showing them who to never mess with or it will be a bloody messy end for all of them.

"Sorry," Yoongi breathes, putting his cards face up on the table.

"No! Min, I'm sick of this! You've won every hand for the past forty minutes!" Yoo Han shouts, tossing his cards onto the table.

Yoo Han, one of the only men in the angel dust business, has been losing his money to your boyfriend for pretty much a good, solid hour.

And he's getting sick of it.

Clearly.

"I'm sorry, Han. That's just how to cookie crumbles. Maybe my old lady is bringing me more luck than I thought she would," Yoongi chirps, angling your face down for a kiss.

You smile into the kiss before hearing your name from behind.

Turning your head, you spot him.

Amidst all the men from your family and his, you can only stare at him.

Yoongi sighs loudly at the sound of his voice, his hand grips your hip and he looks up at you with weary eyes.

"I'll just be a minute. I promise." you whisper, combing your fingers through his black hair.

"I don't like it," he hisses in your ear.

"I have a great big tattoo reminding him who I'm with," you reply, kissing his scar.

He lets go of your hip, nodding his head begrudgingly.

When you stand and turn to Hyunwoo, he stops in his tracks. His eyes narrow at your new tattoo and his jaw becomes taut at the sight.

"You know, I'm thinking that your old lady slid you those cards!"

"Hi," you breathe, approaching him with a small smile.

"H-Hey," your former customer murmurs.

"Don't be so ridiculous, where would she be hiding them!?" you hear Yoongi guffaw.

"Maybe up that little tiger cunt."

"Don't you dare talk about my old lady that way! Who the fuck do you think you're talking to right now?!"

"So you guys are official now," Hyunwoo gawks, drifting his hand over your collarbone.

"Yeah...Yeah we are. Yoongi put everything on the line and so did I," you tell him.

You can tell that he's disappointed, maybe even upset but he tries to mask it with a smile.

"Well… that's good… Is he treating you properly? He was a real asshole last time I saw him." your former date inquires, folding his arms.

"Seems to me like you think you're the king of the castle now that you got hitched! Maybe someone's gotta put you and your little tiger bitch in place!"

"You're walking a fine line here, pal. The next sentence that comes out of your mouth about my woman… I'll rip your jaw off and shove it so far up your ass that your stomach is gonna be doin' the talking for you!"

"He's treating me very well. He's grown in a lot of ways," you promise, smiling to yourself when you think of all the sweet things that your boyfriend has done for you so far.

"Well good I'm glad that you're hap-"

"We're leaving," your boyfriend hisses in your ear, putting his hand on your back.

You look up at him with knit eyebrows and when you open your mouth, the sound of a gunshot echoes through the ballroom.

The screams of terror that emit seem to fade in and out of your ears like some kind of transcendent music.

You find yourself falling weightlessly against your boyfriend and his eyes are wide with fright.

There's more gunfire and screaming that seems to lull you to and from reality.

"Oh baby!" Yoongi screams, falling to his knees with you in his arms.

You don't even register that you've been hurt until you lift your heavy head.

Your gold dress is slowly seeping with red blood and all at once your body screams from the pain.

Yoongi's eyes well with tears and he's screaming so loudly for your brother that your heart stammers. He tears off his suit jacket, pressing it hard to your chest.

"Oh, my baby doll! Oh my fucking God!" he shouts, drifting his blood covered hand over his face.

Time seems to become sluggish at this moment, your vision is starting to double and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears.

"Yoongi," you whisper, raising a hand to his face.

"You're gonna be okay, baby doll. I promise. I fucking promise," he wails loudly, coddling you to his body.

"NOONA!" Jeongguk bellows, falling to his knees beside you.

When you cough, the small dots of blood that fleck your brother's face has him silenced in an instant. Guk begins to shake, eyes glossing over with tears and he presses down on top of Yoongi's hand over your ribs.

Yoongi flags over the medic in attendance, watching as people flee the ballroom in a stampede.

Hyunwoo shuts his eyes, turning away from the scene entirely with the shake of his head.

Yoongi tears your dress away from your chest at the request of the medic and all of the family avert their gaze out of politeness.

"Y-Yoongi," you cry, finally feeling the pain soar through your veins.

"Shhh, I'm right here baby. I'm right here. You're okay. I promise… I fucking promise," he whimpers, pressing his forehead to your temple.

Between gasping for air that seems to be coming in short supply and coughing and sputtering on blood, you're losing reality.

"Baby! You gotta stay with me, sweetheart! Look at me! Baby doll, look at me!" Yoongi begs, tilting your face up to his.

"Her lung is collapsing, I have to-"

Then the world snuck away from you.

Waking up, your throat is so sore and dry that it feels like paper mache that can crack at any second.

It's difficult to feel anything besides the pain that radiates through your chest. It feels as if someone has stuck their hand into a vat of lava and then punched a hole through your lung.

Your eyelids are heavy, almost to the point that they feel like they'll never open again.

But something triumphs all of this in a second.

There's a rhythmic squeezing to your hand, one that feels like a heartbeat and you immediately know it's your man.

You force your eyelids open, squinting at the bright light of the room.

You take in the room for a second, recognizing the movie posters and the model cars on display.

You squeeze his hand back when your voice fails to leave you.

Yoongi, who's been so desperately waiting by your side, springs his head up at your touch.

"Baby doll," he sobs, falling out of the chair beside the bed to his knees.

His face has bruises and cuts and his moustache and beard have grown to an unruly length.

"W-Wate-"

"Shhh, I got you." he says quickly, grabbing the glass pitcher from the bedside table.

You whimper at the pain, letting your eyes flutter shut.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I know it must hurt so badly. I wish I could take this pain away." your boyfriend hisses, lifting your head to help you sip the water.

You have so many questions but it's difficult to string words together.

"The doctor has kept you sedated for two weeks so you wouldn't hurt yourself. You're going to make a full recovery. The bull-The bullet went through your lung but you're going to be fine."

He sounds so dull, so lost like he's been through hell these past two weeks and all you want to do is coddle him to you but your limbs are sore and tired.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I love you so much. Forgive me, please." Yoongi begs, drifting his lips over the back of your hand.

"I love you too."

It's the first sentence you're able to utter and you find it apt for your life at the moment.

Yoongi has done a lot of thinking these past two weeks. He drank more than he ever has even when he was a depressed teen. Just to see you fall… to see you crumble into his arms has scarred him deeper than the cut on his face.

He barely ate.

He barely slept.

He didn't want to shower or do anything that would take him away from your side.

When you were finally stable enough to get into surgery, the waiting, it practically killed him.

He wasn't sure what he would do if you didn't make it.

He didn't know if he could exist anymore without you by his side.

When Jeongguk made him leave your side, he would sit in his office and stare at the golden box with the bullet that brandishes his name.

Yoongi fought through so many thoughts, depressing and enlightening alike.

The drug lord chastised himself for letting you in, he beat himself up over letting you get the tattoo. His heart was so full of love for you that he didn't think twice about you getting it. But while he waited for the surgery to be complete -- he hated himself for putting you in such danger.

When the surgery was finally over after hours and hours of excruciating waiting… he pulled himself together. There was no reason to berate himself for what has already happened -- it wouldn't change anything.

You wouldn't be burning off your tattoo anytime soon. So, he decided to make himself stronger.

It isn't easy, not by any means. With every day you've been sedated, finding hope seemed fewer and far between.

Last week, when your body started to break down due to shock -- so did Yoongi.

He contemplated a life without you, he tried his hardest to forget the smiles you've given him and tried to murder the hope for happiness blossoming in his heart.

He told your brother that there was no point in waiting for you to wake up and your brother beat him back to life. The cuts and bruises on his face are proof of that.

"You need to wake up! She's going to be fine! She's not fucking dying! You put that tattoo on her chest, you swore to protect her and you keep up your fucking end! I don't care if you're my boss! Talk about Y/N like she's already gone again and you'll wish that you were!"

Your brother was right, of course. Yoongi recognized this as his blood stained the grass under his laid out body.

You're not going anywhere.

Neither is he.

"What ha-happened?" you croak, looking down at your bandaged ribs.

To remember such a thing makes your boyfriend shiver. He squeezes your hand tight, drawing it to his cheek.

"Yoo Han was very upset that he was losing and I turned my back for two seconds and he shot you… He is no longer alive to make those dumb decisions again, nor is any of his family."

You swallow thickly, drifting your fingers over the neat, clean gauze pad.

"I-It's hard to breathe," you wheeze, looking up at the drug lord.

"I know, baby… but your lung is recovering very fast. You're going to feel brand new in just a few days," Yoongi promises.

You reach up, touching his unkempt beard and a small smirk etches onto your face.

He presses his hand to yours, keeping it close to his face. "I was so frightened I lost you, Y/N. I can't lose you… I'm nothing without you."

"Well… that's not true," you breathe, watching his eyes flutter shut.

"Yes it is. It's completely true. While you've been asleep all these days… I've felt so empty… So lost. I-I… I just love you so much," he avows, guiding your hand from his face to his heart.

"I'm here. I'm right here," you promise.

"You're my whole world. You've spun my life like a top and I lost my grip on reality without you," he gasps, bending down to kiss your lips softly.

He cringes when he presses his forehead to yours and you stare at the bruises that are turning yellow with the indication that they're healing.

"Who beat you up?" you murmur, drifting your thumb over his swollen cheek.

"Your brother," he quips with a small smile.

"Did you deserve it?" you chirp, grabbing the water with slow movements.

"Oh, yes. Yes, I did." he hisses, burying his face in your neck.

"Well just don't do it again." you chuckle, coursing your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck.

"Never," he assures you.

There will never be a time where he thinks so negatively again.

He's your love, your protector, your man and he'll do everything and anything to keep you safe. The love that he has for you is infinite and everything below that is meaningless.

Absolutely meaningless.

<----- Last Chapter Next Chapter ---->

The Deal taglist – @jeon-junggoop, @btsarmy9593, @slothykrueger, @jcsmae, @milesjeon11, @cloudyblisss, @borahae-reads, @secretlycrazyhummingbird, @rjsmochii, @sugas-bbygirl, @ggukkieland, @hyungieyoongi, @chxmachxps, @dvalitaes, @vintageroses10, @maerawrrr, @flowerblu00, @veronawrites, @seoqity, @wozwaid, @hisbutton-nose, @sweetempathprunetree, @jinsearthh, @codeinebelle, @serious-addiction, @bt21chim, @rosquilleta, @dunixxd, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @openup-yourmind, @shesaysweirdthings, @marslena, @deathkat657, @yoonlattesworld, @that-funny-alien-28, @clutterfied, @belladaises, @silentkei, @btsnina, @shydestinyyouth, @thefreddieman, @kkklaudiaaa17, @moonchild1, @ronie1974, @jeonghanniehae,

#the deal #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #drug dealer!yoongi #drug lord!yoongi #yoongi smut #bts fic #bts fics

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trashbins-stuff · 9 months

Text

Incorrect quotes

Ppl involved: @mochablogger @moonmxple @blairdrawzstuff @mirkodoesstuff @winterwrxter @harpjustexists @rubixcubix

1.Blueberry: What time is it?

Mocha: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out

Mocha: *BLASTS the saxaphone*

Harp: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING

Mocha: It’s 2 am

Bin: I'm going the fight the next person who insults Hazel.

Hazel: I hate myself.

Bin: Alright, square up.

Rubix: I dunno if I'm ready to process the ramifications of this bullshit

Winter: So what are your political beliefs?

Bin, awkwardly trying to impress her: Well, I think Pikachu would be a lot more powerful if he had a gun.

Rubix: They... well, I wouldn't call it inheritance per se. What do you call it when you kill someone and get their stuff?

Blueberry: Um, murder???

Hazel: Adventuring!

Bin: Tuesday.

Rubix: Everyone synchronise your watches.

Hazel: I don't know how to do that.

Winter: I don't wear a watch.

Harp: Time is a construct

Harp: Good morning.

Bin: Good morning.

Blueberry: Good morning.

Rubix: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

Mocha, barging in from the window: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS

Everyone: AHHHHHHHH

Rubix: Rules were made to be broken.

Winter: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.

Blair: Uh, piñatas.

Mocha: Glow sticks.

Bin: Karate boards.

Hazel: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.

Rubix: Rules.

Winter:

Rubix: Throw lamps at people who need to lighten up, and throw handles at someone who needs to get a grip!

Mocha: Throw a refrigerator at someone who needs to chill!

Bin: Throw scissors at someone who needs to cut it out!

Winter: Throw a clock at someone who needs to get with the times!

Hazel: Throw matches at someone who needs to get fired up!

Blueberry: Throw a brick at someone to kill them.

10.

Hazel: Stressed.

Rubix: Depressed.

Mocha: Possessed.

Winter: Obsessed.

Blueberry: Impressed.

Bin: Chicken breast.

Everyone: ...What?

Bin: I just wanted to join in.

11.

Rubix: What if people had food names and food had people names?

Hazel: Hey, spaghetti, we’re having Rubix for dinner.

Blair: What is wrong with you people?

Bin: Shut up, orange.

12.

Mocha: I haven't seen Harp and Blueberry for fifteen minutes now.

*Outside a nearby window, a car without a driver inside is seen rolling down a driveway, with Harp and Blueberry running after it in a panic. Mocha doesn't look outside at all.*

Mocha: That probably means they're getting into trouble.

13.

Blueberry: Hello all, it is I, your favorite person.

Bin: Actually, Galaxy Journal is my favourite.

Blueberry: Okay then, it is I, that bitch

14.

Rubix: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

15.

Fae au Blair: Hello friends!

The Squad:

Fae au Blair: You might be wondering why I’m hanging from the ceiling

16.

*after the Squad has been separated for a few years*

Harp: So what have you been up to recently?

Rubix: Leading a revolution with Bin.

Harp: Good for you two! Me, I've joined the mob.

Rubix: *nods* Oh, how cool! That's awesome!

Harp: I know! Anyway, have you heard from the others? Mocha?

Rubix: Happily living as a hermit in the woods. Blair and Hazel?

Harp: Wrongfully locked up in an asylum, which reminds me, we need to break them out later. Blueberry?

Rubix: Cult leader.

Harp: Yeah, that sounds about right.

17.

Rubix: I CAN'T DO IT!

Mocha, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Rubix: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Harp: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Rubix:

Rubix: I appreciate it,

Rubix: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Hazel: Rubix-

Rubix: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Winter: Rubix we gotta-

Rubix: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Rubix: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Rubix, motioning to Bin: NOT FUCKING THIS

18.

Blair: Wait, hold up, why you draw yourself like that?

Mocha: Uh, like what?

Blair: Like with gorgeous, muscular legs.

Mocha: Uh, this is what I look like.

Blair:

Mocha: THIS IS WHAT I LOOK LIKE!

Blair: Okay, then I want big beefy arms. Hot ones.

Hazel: I wanna have a cowboy hat!

Mocha: Okay, arms and hat. *draws them*

Rubix: Ooh, give me a cowboy hat too!

Mocha: You can't just take Hazel's hat idea, Rubix! He thought it up all by himself like a good person! Come up with your own thing!

Rubix: BUT I WANNA LOOK COOL!

Bin: Put Rubix on one of those stupid baby tricycles.

Rubix: NO!!

Mocha: Tricycle, done. *draws it* Winter, want anything?

Bin, making finger guns: Pew pew.

Mocha: A blaster?! No, that's not really our style, Winter.

Winter, making finger guns: Pew pew.

Mocha: You know what, okay. *draws it* But it's just for holding, not for shooting.

19.

Winter: So, did everyone learn their lesson?

Harp: No.

Hazel: I did not.

Rubix: I may have actually forgotten one.

Blueberry: *shale head

Bin: Also no.

Winter: Oh good, neither did I.

Blair: *Exhausted sigh*

20.

Winter: *Posts a super low-quality image to the group chat*

Mocha: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I’d have 15 cents.

Winter: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you.

Hazel: Actually I did the math, Mocha would have $225, not $0.15.

Mocha: Fam I’m right here....

Harp: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :)

Winter: while you’re there could you buy me an apply juice please?

Harp: Sorry I only have a dollar.

Winter: :(

Blueberry: Hey I just realized my friend is right, Mocha would have $22,500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent.

Harp: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice.

Hazel: You can buy anything you want with $22,500.

Bin: Yeah and she want soda and apply juice.

Hazel: Apply juice to what.

Bin: Directly to the forehead.

Rubix: Great chat everyone.

21.

Blueberry: Anyone down to take couples counseling and see at what point the therapist realizes we barely know each other?

Bin: Idiots to lovers, 20k words, angst with a happy ending.

22.

Harp: Yesterday, I watched Blair try to eat a decorative rock from Hazel's potted plant. Blueberry caught her, and told her she can't eat rocks. Blair started whining something about no food being in the house before walking away.

#tw cult mention #the traumatized cup #ttc #incorrect quotes #ttc hazel #ttc mocha cuppy #ttc blair #ttc blueberry donut #ttc bin #ttc winter #ttc harp #ttc rubix

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heavenlyhoundoom · 2 months

Text

Cuphead charcter parents.(head cannon)

Dads

.Brewster Porcelain.

Species: Mug person.

Color: Red.

Age: 32

Date of birth: 3/16/1900

Birthplace: Inkwell. (Isle one)

Occupation: Cab driver.

Kids: Cuphead Porcelain and Mugman Porcelain.

.Matteo Carbone

Species: Human.

Race: European.

Hair color: Black.

Eye color: Blue.

Age: 60

Date of birth: 5/23/1872

Birthplace: New York City.

Occupation: Artist.

Kids: Sebastian Web and Walter Web.

.Richard Lightbug

Species: Firefly.

Color: Purple.

Hair color: Blonde.

Eye color: Brown.

Age: 44 at death.

Date of birth: 6/20/1867

Birthplace: Los Angeles, California.

Date of death: 8/25/1911

Cause of death: Car accident.

Occupation: None.(he lived off of his parents' wealth)

Kids: Mildred Lightbug, Bertha Lightbug, Elizabeth Lightbug, Oliver Lightbug, Anges Lightbug, Rose Lightbug, and Lucy Lightbug.

.Alfred Anteater

Species: Anteater.

Fur color: Gray.

Eye color: Purple.

Age: 62

Date of birth: 1/29/1870

Birthplace: Newark, New Jersey.

Occupation: Wrestler

Kids: Albert Anteater, Abigail Anteater, Alice Anteater, Allen Anteater, Anna Anteater, and Anthony Anteater.

.Foka Petrov

Species: Snail.

Color: Green.

Eye color: Brown.

Age: 58

Date of birth: 6/17/1874

Birthplace: Inkwell. (Isle four)

Occupation: Mob boss.(retired)

Kid: Sheldon Petrov.

.Philippe Lavigne

Species: Pepper shaker.

Age: 59

Date of birth: 1/24/1873

Birthplace: Paris, France.

Occupation: Orchardist.

Kid: Saltbaker Shaker.

.Brown bull

Species: Bull

.Age: 48

Date of birth: 4/7/1884

Birthplace: Inkwell Meatfarms.

Occupation: None.

Kids: Esther Winchester, five other girl calves and three boy calves.

.Comet Saluki

Species: Saluki.

Fur color: Tan and black.

Age: 50

Date of birth: 9/15/1882

Occupation: Pilot.

Kids: Penelope Saluki, and Angel Saluki.

.Brutus Giant

Species: Giant.

Race: European.

Hair color: Ginger.

Age: 55

Date of birth: 2/9/1877

Birthplace: Inkwell. (Isle four)

Occupation: Security guard.

Kids: Helga Giant and Glumstone Giant.

.Otto Buzzman

Species: House fly

Color: Black.

Age: 34 at death.

Date of birth: 7/30/1880

Birthplace: Boston, Massachusetts.

Date of death: 10/5/1914

Cause of death: Eaten by a spider.(not related to Walter in any way)

Occupation: Electrician.

Kids: Garry Buzzman, Larry Buzzman, and Jerry Buzzman.

Moms

Mocha Porcelain

Species: Cup person.

Color: Blue.

Age: 32

Date of birth: 6/27/1900

Birthplace: Ottawa, Canada.

Occupation: Kindergarten teacher.

Kids: Cuphead Porcelain and Mugman Porcelain.

.Edna Web

Species: Spider.

Fur color: Gray.

Hair color: Orange.

Eye color: Yellow.

Age: 60.

Date of birth: 2/6/1872

Birthplace: New York City.

Occupation: Construction worker.

Kids: Sebastian Web and Walter Web.

.Hannah Lightbug

Species: Firefly.

Color: Black.

Hair color: Red.

Eye color: Green.

Age: 44 at death.

Date of birth: 4/13/1867

Birthplace: Malibu, California.

Date of death: 8/25/1911

Cause of death: Car accident.

Occupation: House wife.

Kids: Mildred Lightbug, Bertha Lightbug, Elizabeth Lightbug, Oliver Lightbug, Agnes Lightbug, Rose Lightbug, and Lucy Lightbug.

.Amber Anteater

Species: Anteater.

Fur color: Brown.

Eye color: Orange.

Age: 62

Date of birth: 9/4/1870

Birthplace: Inkwell.(Isle three)

Occupation: Waitress.

Kids: Albert Anteater, Abigail Anteater, Alice Anteater, Allen Anteater, Anna Anteater, and Anthony Anteater.

.Jennifer Petrov.

Species: Snail

Color: Yellow.

Eye color: Light blue.

Age: 58

Date of birth: 7/2/1874

Birthplace: New York City.

Occupation: House wife.

Kid: Sheldon Petrov.

.Mary Shaker

Species: Pepper shaker.

Age: 59

Date of birth: 5/16/1873

Birthplace: Inkwell.(Isle four)

Occupation: Baker.

Kid: Saltbaker Shaker.

.Black cow

Species: Cow.

Age: 48

Date of birth: 11/12/1884

Birthplace: Scotland meat farms.

Occupation: None.

Kids: Esther Winchester, five more girl calves, and three boy calves.

.Rita Saluki

Species: Saluki.

Fur color: White and Black.

Age: 50

Date of birth: 3/21/1882

Birthplace: Edgewood, Florida.

Occupation: Hair stylist.

Kids: Penelope Saluki and Angel Saluki.

.Rhonda Giant

Species: Giant.

Race: European.

Hair color: White.

Age: 55

Date of birth: 6/25/1877

Birthplace: Pembroke, Wales.

Occupation: Optician.

Kids: Helga Giant and Glumstone Giant.

.Gale Buzzman

Species: House fly.

Color: Green

Age: 52

Date of birth: 1/6/1880

Birthplace: Calabash, North Carolina.

Occupation: Nurse.

Kids: Garry Buzzman, Larry Buzzman, and Jerry Buzzman.

#Cuphead #cuphead dlc #mugman #chef saltbaker #moonshine mob #esther winchester #howling aces #glumstone the giant

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jazwritesalot · 4 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @wingsonghalo (I'm using my fandom account for this ILY)

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 69!

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 372,792, which is about what I thought

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently it's BNHA, FMA, and Mob Psycho 100. But I have also written for Soul Eater in the past and may look into revisiting that series.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? Auras Tell All, Shaken, Not Stirred, Mocha Choco Latte, Of Ink-Dipped Petals and Tattooed Hearts, and Salted Caramel Doubleshot

5. Do you respond to comments? I try my best to! Sometimes I get behind on it though.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Ignoring all of my Soul Eater fics, since they're old and I somewhat want to rewrite them, I think the angstiest ending would be To the Moon, my only Hanako-Kun fic.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Right now, I think the happiest ending is my Camie/Jirou fic, mother tongue, which was written for the @novapulsezine. But, most of my fics have a happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really. I think I'm pretty lucky.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? You know it ;) And I write a wide spectrum of it, but mostly it's KiriBaku or ShinKami smut when I do write.

10. Do you write crossovers? I've dabbled with it, but never have posted anything.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think so, but I can't quite remember, LOL.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? None yet, but that would be fun!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I suppose you could say I have. Back in the SE days, I would RP, and we would turn the RPs into fics.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I think if we go back to my roots, my favorite would be Yoh Asakura and Anna Kyoyama.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Teenage Dirtbag, my FMA HS AU fic. I've had plans for it for years, but never can seem to get the words on paper TT_TT

16. What are your writing strengths? Description of settings and internal dialogue

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Probably action scenes-I feel like they tend to fall flat. But, there's always something I could improve upon in my writing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I think that it would be okay as long as it's thoroughly checked to make sure what you're saying is accurate. I tend to shy away from it, just because I don't want to offend anyone.

19. First fandom you wrote for? On AO3, it was Soul Eater. In general, it was probably Twilight or Ouran High School Host Club with my friends during classes in middle/high school.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? It's a tie between Mocha Choco Latte and Shaken, Not Stirred. I love both of these babies and they are my heart and soul.

I tag @hyuge, @lifeform286, @kitkatrix, @kittywritesfic, and whoever else sees this and would like to participate!

#jaz rambles #ask games #writing #fanfiction #going to share this on my main too #thanks for the tag!

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35eddion · 7 months

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Thank you for the tag @mocha-blossom!!

Five songs I've been listening a lot to:

1. Found & Lost by Survive Said The Prophet (Banana Fish's opening 1)

2. Refrain Boy by All Off (Mob Psycho 100's ending 1)

3. Beautiful World by Hikaru Utada (theme song of the 2007 film reboot of Neon Genesis Evangelion)

4. A Cruel Angel's Thesis by Yoko Takahashi (Neon Genesis Evangelion's opening)

5. Period by Chemistry (Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood's opening 4)

tagging @spageddy29 @umkayominay @neolavender @leo-probably @officialkarinuzumaki (no pressure though ofc) and anyone else who wants to do this

#it's all anime? always has been #moj

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oran-berry-sky · 1 year

Note

heya! the mod of breed-station! you wanted an ask but tbh im quite clueless what to ask ^^" what are like some content pointers/ ask hints you would like to explore for your characters? much appreciated!! ^^

OOC: I'm open to anything for ask. (My main blog is Mocha Sea) Maybe some background about my characters would help give question ideas? Sarah: Sarah lives above a ranger station on the edge of a natural pokemon sanctuary. She is a pokemon nurse in her own right, and finds works as a freelance pokemon medic. She's one of the few humans that can understand what pokemon are saying. She can also feel their emotions the way pokemon can sense human emotions. It comes in handy when she's dealing with a combative pokemon in need of first aid. Sarah can empathize with pokemon who hate humans because they were hurt by them. Sarah herself lost her right leg and became permanently scared because of the greed of humans and their goal to capture rare and powerful pokemon. Sarah's longtime partner is Bubbles the Ivysaur. He's her loyal partner and acts like a mentor so some of Sarah's other pokemon. Chansey became Sarah's pokemon by force. She is the one who saved Sarah's life when Sarah lost her leg. During Sarah's recovery she took it upon herself to be the one to help Sarah. She captured herself and gave Sarah the pokeball and tapped her cheek like a mob boss. Chansey hates messes and is really good at cleaning and helping Sarah with the cooking. She's also very blunt and will not sugar coat things. Sarah's other pokemon are Machop, an alpha sized Charizard, Zeraora, Absol, and Cloyster. ------ I am very passionate about my characters and love it when people show interest in getting to know them or want to ask questions about their backstories.. Asking how to approach pokemon would be fun too. Even rp interactions would be fun as long as people don't mind written replies.

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rivka-kopelman · 2 years

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Delivery Lemur Logbook : 13

In the babble of the rabble, in the shaking shuddering cortex of the world, in the hot haze, the controlled chaos & the actual chaos, in the heart of all hearts, is my teeming steaming native land. This is planet Cloudout, capital and administrative keyworld of the Eight Galaxies. Specifically, we're in the suburb Bobby_Cloud. I was born just around the corner from here back when I was a baby.

Feel what I'm feelin?

“Yes ~ I do,” Mocha Menosky thought to me. I wanted to show all this to her, so I reached out, and here you are, in my head.

“Twinkly warm feelings ~ A memory on every corner. Plastic toys in primary colors. Over in that tower ~ you're recalling it ~ your classmates went rollerblading without you?”

I made an excuse to stay home. I was afraid I'd go too fast and fall over the guardrail and die in the boiling core.

Through the back of my head Mocha sees the wallpaper in my childhood bedroom. She tastes the undercooked seaweed soup my dad used to make, and feels how my cherry shampoo used to sting my eyes. It smelled so good I kept using it. I was 9 or 10. That brand doesn't exist anymore. Too bad.

“We need to get uptown,” Lopcorn said. My meditation cracks open.

His voice. His face.

Tangible reality. The deck under me.

I'm Delivery Lemur (deliveremur). Hi.

“Ah yeah. Uh, hang on,” I say. I hit a few buttons and we accelerate.

Everything I see through the porthole is familiar but the vibe is very wrong. The planet's frantic. Paranoid. The casual subversion of the reformists and the counterculture is not so casual today, if the din on the public comm is any indication. The vindictively persecuted Catfish Church was rallying lots of sympathy. The famine, believed over, was worse than ever now that the Commercial Spacefaring Commission's fleet had been destroyed – rammed into the Bolo blockade by the renegade Berg Lazerson, crushing intergalactic trade and risking a mass breakout by the dreaded Possum Patrol. A mob blaming the Dept of Agriculture for the (yet again) empty grocery shops has been targeting the private residences of high-ranking officials. Civil liberty activists crashed a pro-Berg rally in Macula_Cloud; when soldiers showed up to disperse them, the uproar became a riot and spread to six other cities before President Gault got things under control. An hour later, anti-Gault fanatics were firebombing admin-centers all over Cloudout. Elsewhere in the galaxy, secessionists in Shark City had flooded the local barracks with nerve gas, killing the entire garrison. They dammed the harbor with corpses and were declaring independence. The stock exchange and board of trade in Jorora had been razed by rioters while a vast phalanx of police watched in silence and eerily did nothing. In Yugrug on Blurg XI, a cholera outbreak in the wetlands had driven peasants into the cities by the billion and 75% were expected to die. Psychics everywhere were returning to the Psy Santuary en masse. Road Lizards were rampaging in Karatoc for no known reason, laying waste to mineral extraction facilities and bombing unpopulated mountains. Hackers had devoured the វាលខ្សាច់ banker's cyber-guild and instantly turned a million millionaires into destitute vagrants. A feud between SM grunts and Benzo Bears on Rialk Prime had escalated to hypersonic missile exchange and over 100 cities were destroyed this morning. Hyde Station had gone dark, all aboard presumed dead. Zura-Chalga Station had lost a thruster to suspected sabotage (culprit unknown) and fallen into the orbit of red dwarf star 324-Q; most of the overcrowded escape pods exploded on launch and only 1,471 of the 6,340,000,000 inhabitants survived. The planet-spanning bramble forest of Szymański had been ignited; no rescue operation had begun and the entire population was doomed. Floom-fearing alien cultists were holding ritual suicides in all cities and towns on all planets. The SM blockade around the Bolo system was stretched to the limit to contain a new all-out offensive by Possum Patrol. New Year's Eve parties have been cancelled left and right.

Well. Not much I can do about that. I've got a job to do, after all. Gotta deliver a certain salad fork to a certain sloth. I've met the guy - Franz Welker. Some call him an evil mastermind, and blame him for everything that goes wrong in the universe. Some call him their papa, and revere him as an altruist. He uh, has really good manners? I think he's a stress-head. Needs a vacation.

Anyway. We're zipping along through the vapor. Grey, grey, grey. I love driving around here. I know this place like the tip of my tail. I could navigate Cloudout with my eyes shut. In fact... let me try that.

Tum tee tum, ta ta tee, ta ta ta

BONK

Ah we have hit something. That must be my house. I open my eyes. It is - Yeah it's my house.

“Hahah ~ be careful,” Mocha thinks, a galaxy away in her asteroid conservatory orbiting Febris, deep in Psy Sanctuary Space. I smell hornwort broth through her nostrils. It's suppertime over there.

“Did you have your eyes shut?” Lopcorn wanted to know.

“Yeah! Don't worry. It's my parents' place,” I explain.

I guess my mental map or my muscle memory or whatever guided me back here. “I should really pop in. Haven't been back for a while. There's clean laundry I'm supposed to take.”

I wonder if Mom got that stain out of my neck-warmer? Peanut oil in polar-fleece. That's beyond my power. I bet she did it though.

I buzz out a docking pylon and disembark. Ceaseless traffic streams in all directions. The hot wet breeze washes over me. The boil-coils of the artificial planet-core exhale the nostalgic swimming-pool scent of chlorine with a hint of charcoal or burnt coffee. Though it might just be that Dad left the percolator on.

Lopcorn follows me out.

“Your parents? Don't tell me - is this their actual address?”

When I swivel around to answer, I stumble on something. But when I look, there's nothing there. That's a very weird and suspicious thing to happen. Well whatever haha

“Yeah, why?”

He grips my shoulder and steers me back into the ship.

“We'll come back tomorrow,” he whispers. “We can't show our faces here.”

“Why not?”

“Me and your friend Stackland were supposed to kill each other, remember? That's why we were sent out to the edge of the world.”

“Oh right.”

“They might be surveilling your house in case you make it back.”

That would be so freaky.

“He's right ~ you're being watched.” Mocha's thoughts float up. I hear and I know.

“Good point,” I say. “Let's get out of here.”

“Your family is okay ~ run ~ hide.”

Confirmed FREAKY.

“We should ditch the ship now,” I say.

“Yeah,” Lopcorn agrees. “Where's somewhere y-”

“The old forum.”

Afraid, kind of. Anxious and stiff in the shoulders. Rushing. Go go go.

Omnipotent Mocha Menosky feels my impatience. She sees my bad feelings; sees the sprawling, curling branches of worry and fret. If this goes wrong then that could happen then this or that or

“There there ~ it's alright.”

Mocha shows me psychic artwork and soothing sounds of something and unwritten brain-books in the language of raw emotion and pre-thought. Dream with me ~ for a bit ~

[yeah]

She reads every synapse in my brain and fathoms the full shape of my fear. It's effortless for her, fluent in all feelings, to suss out exactly what'll console me. She understands everything and she takes care of me. I feel better.

The local forum is the Formido Tremendum. There's free parking. I tuck us away in the back corner of the lot. Mocha's looking at the memories I've made here. I feel like a large-print softcover. It's unusual but not embarrassing. She grasps my perspective on her perspective and she furnishes those thoughts with some special context. Mentally she shows me snips of her own past and present. It's too much to write down today but I'll get to it at some point.

Physically, Lopcorn eases himself onto our beanbag chair and I know he's looking at me. The warmth of him on my right side makes my left side feel colder. Mentally, Mocha slips away.

“...gonna be okay,” he's telling me. Crap, he's been talking. What's he been saying?

“What is a what?”

“Your ship.”

“Oh. Yeah, it's a, uh, it's okay to leave it here for now.”

He asks me lots of stuff that I don't really parse. He's nice and warm though. I notice I'm blinking alot.

I stand up.

“Let's go in.”

In. What? Where – oh the forum. Oh gosh I was here all the time when I was younger. On chilly days I used to get hot rosewater and put the bottle in the inner pocket of this olive-green jacket I had, and just hold it when I was walking around, feeling so cool that I had this secret heat source. And I had these yellow-foam headphones with glow-in-the-dark comets on them for listening to white noise and ocean sounds before I discovered podcasts. Hahha!

We go in. It's dim and deafening. The floor is sticky fauxstone. I stepped on a hard nugget of feces. In an environment so damp and crowded, you can't pamper your paws. Locals such as myself learn to ignore their feet entirely. An empty Midnight Muktuk can is rolling around, kicked by everyone. The frantic pulse and stifling anonymity of the universe's most densely populated planet is best exemplified here in the forums. The self itself is muffled, and the we has the volume turned all the way up.

They're rowdy today. Its worse than I've ever seen. The public and the tribunes are debating the Bolo Blockade, Berg's mutiny, the intentions of Franz Welker, and most of all, this the latest news item:

{Transcript of the Pope's confession!}

{Catfish Pope under INTERROGATION by captor Berg L.}

At long last, the fledgling Catfish Pope had been caught and put to the question. The staggering &700,000,000R bounty put on his head by Franz Welker had drawn no shortage of attention. Our buddy Rudler Stackland and his buddy Felix Rølvag were supposed to nab him but they lost the chase to Berg Lazerson.

I double check again that Lopcorn is behind me. We're deep in the throngs now. The cyclone of chatter is wrapped around an mp4 video.

{Health Minister Anna Siong Leaks CFP Interrogation Tape!}

{“...bound by my oath of office to make this information public...”}

We watch it. Yikes.

In the grainy video: the ancient fish was bleeding from his mouth and face.

“May Gog forgive you. Gog forgive you,” he was moaning.

“You were the chaplain of the SMV Callier during the Floom Expedition ?” the lilting drawl of Berg Lazerson was unmistakable.

CFP: “Yes.”

BL: “Did you see the aliens?”

CFP: “There are no aliens. Stop asking. Stop asking me!”

BL: “Who was your commanding officer?”

CFP: “Franz Welker. It's - that's common knowledge!”

BL: “You never encountered any aliens?”

CFP: “No, child. There's no such thing.”

BL: “What happened on the expedition?”

Narration played over a looping clip showing a very old spaceship.

Year 3404: Anomalous energy wavelength detected on the far side of the gargantuan Sheol Nebula by a prototype isotropic transducer being tested by the Space Military's science directorate [SMsD]. Experts believed the phenomenon could be evidence of intelligent life.

The chief of the SMsD at the time, F. Welker, was ordered to investigate. He commissioned the construction of a long-haul carrier, the SMV Callier, and departed with an elite crew hand-picked from the academic elite, Psy Brigade (now defunct), and Possum Patrol. It was estimated that the Callier would reach the source of the anomaly in eleven years, and take eleven years to come get back. F. Welker returned – Inexplicably alone – in 3417, 13 years after the mission began. He told the cabinet that on January 1st 3432, when the gravitation of neutron star YXY-18309 pulls the Sheol Nebula into its perihelion and the anomaly becomes directly observable from our galactic cluster, an alien race called Floom would exterminate our civilization instantly. Tomorrow's the big day.

CFP: I was a preacher. Spacefarers of this era don't seek spiritual guidance... But the diplomatic corps asked our church for a representative, considering the... what the mission may entail.

He wheezed and shuddered.

CFP: .............. I'm afraid of the dark. Closets and corners... Dying. The fate of my soul. That most of all. Will I ever hear the voice of Gog? Is every one of us alone? The Ancients struggled with the mystery forever. It did them little good. Ah. I said yes, I - I agreed to go with Franz Welker into the abyss. We sailed off the edge of the map.

He laughed until he started coughing. He looked like the most terrified and insane person I ever saw.

BL: You went to the Floom Empire. What did you see?

CFP: Like I told you before you flogged me, child: There's nothing out there. The void is the void. You can shine the light of your childish imagination on it. But there's nothing there. The aliens at Floom are Franz's fantasy. The Callier was hijacked... Oh, pray for Gog's forgiveness. Molder in quiet water. Swim into the rippling dawn. Splash in the rivers of heaven. Be purified by Gog's love. You still have time.

BL: Thank-you, no.

Berg snapped his fingers four times, trying to bring back the Pope's attention.

BL: What happened next? What about the hijacking? Why did Possum Patrol betray the SM? What's this really about?

CFP: Hah......... haahhahahahahahaAhhahahahahahahahahahahHahah--

The video feed was cut. Everybody lost their shit.

The projector played a health & safety warning about a float-gas leak. A voice on the intercom was calmly instructing the forum-goers to evacuate in an orderly fashion. The seething mob complied, with much cursing, grumbling, and petty vandalism.

“It was a hoax all along,” an old bluejay was muttering as we shuffled along. “I fuckin knew it. Fuckin load o' shit...”

“They've got to hang Welker for this,” brayed a donkey behind us. “Building those Space Beams bankrupted the United Galaxies. It was all for nothing. They're starving out there, ya know.”

“Oh snap, look,” said the gopher in front of us, showing his pals something on his phone. “Gault's going after him. “'The office of the President has ordered the Justice Minister to countersign an arrest warrant for Franz Welker.' lol crazy!”

“Franz just declared martial law in Galaxy-1!”

We were almost back to the hangar. A paramedic in a gas mask was scanning everyone at the exit with a thermometer or something. “You two, get over here!” he ordered. He was pointing at me and Lopcorn. We exchanged a look and stepped out of the queue. “You've got elevated pleural hydrocarbons. You might have inhaled float-gas. Head down to the first aid station for a checkup.”

We'd all be sneezing blood if there really was a leak, right?

“Thanks but I'm late for my big baseball,” I lie. He waved insistently back down the hall.

“Can't let you go without an exam. Sorry. Just doing my job.”

So. We gotta go down in an elevator to the deserted basement level and find the little first-aid room.

The nurse was a squirrel. She scampered toward us. In a flash, Lopcorn had her by the throat. I gasped and she gasped. Lopcorn peeled her respirator off and revealed her face.

“Oh hi Dr. Siong,” he said, and let her go. He was right. It was the health minister herself.

Anna Siong recoiled and glared at Lopcorn, looking outraged, but regained composure by the time she could breathe again.

“I was just going to lock the door,” she insisted, her voice crackling. She waved her paws. “You s--Nevermind, nevermind.” She poured some chalky green Wakeup=Dead (a powerful stimulant drink) into a paper cup and quaffed it.

“How did you find us? We've barely been on the planet an hour.”

She cleared her throat. “Auto-census. The health department doesn't + can't compile everyone's DNA profile but we bio-scan every ship entering + leaving Cloudout to track occupancy species. I've been watching for #lemur and #hare arriving on the same timestamp...” she spoke quickly, and nodded furtively while glancing back and forth at us. “It's rare for hares and lemurs to fly together. It was quite straightforward. If I can find you, so can Franz Welker – so I'll make this quick.”

“Do that,” said Lopcorn, locking the door. Anna Siong took a deep breath and let it out, like she was about to start singing in front of an audience.

“Berg is going to invoke Chapter 55 – No Confidence Clause – against President Gault. I'm going to sign as sponsor and we're going to impeach her. Berg will run unopposed in an emergency election on New Years Day and he'll be the new president, with me as VP – on paper. But – as I'm sure you know – the title is worthless without the means to enforce the rule of law.” Her face was dramatically animated during this frenetic spiel. “No matter what we say, the military can do whatever it wants. Franz isn't going to step down. And he's been declared a rebel as of – more or less – five minutes ago. These next hours are crucial...” she gesticulated eagerly to emphasize this part. “We have a narrow, NARROW window of opportunity. Berg – against my advice – insisted on releasing the interrogation video. He's impatient to resolve this all today. He's being... so rash.”

“That's Berg,” Lopcorn said flatly. “And you know, he got stabbed and had his tongue ripped out. I'd be mad as hell.”

Siong's demeanor changed; her flagpole posture tilted and she blushed, seeming to lose her place in her long recital. “That knife was poisoned. What- what a catastrophe it could have been. But he had the best of care. I saved him.”

“I hope he thanked you for that. And I hope he learned from it.” Lopcorn looked at the wall. “But I'm betting he didn't.”

“That Cutbarf boy...” she rasped, hugging herself.

“I'll deal with him,” Lopcorn said, like a babysitter casting out monsters from under the bed.

Siong wavered for a moment, then started nodding alot. “Berg – He and I will collaborate on strategy, going forward. I can handle his reckless tendencies. It's – this is a tangent. Main point: I want stable politics. I want to stop the bloodshed. I want to set up a new status-quo. I want the Space Beams taken apart. I want to dig up the Floom Expedition Logbooks + prosecute Franz. I want to be the one to tell the public everything. Now that we know the alien empire was a hoax, it's – it's almost worse, isn't it? Because if Franz didn't do – didn't cause all of this to prevent the apocalypse, what – what was the point? What have we been bombarding for six years?”

“Haha I dunno,” I add. This is like one of those complex questions on a test when u wish u could just walk around the room for a bit and not think about it before starting to actually try, know what i mean?

“I have my own idea about that,” pronounced Lopcorn. “But for your coup to work you need Armando. He can veto your plan any step of the way. Did you talk to him?”

Anna shook her head and shrugged, smiling in a plastic way, as if she had practiced for this question. “没有办法. Armando will do what Armando will do. I think he doesn't care what happens. Or – ah. Nevermind. What I wanted to talk to you about was your plans for next year + and onward. Mr. Lopcorn. I've looked into your curriculum vitae. Your history is – frankly – extraordinary. Stranded – at that age – where you were – must have been quite an ordeal.”

“Yeah quite.”

“And - Hero of the Sarissa campaign...You ended the Eagle War and Verückter War single-handedly... You defeated the Ostrich King and Sniper-X. Fernand Veek, Bully Transe, Grand Panther, Luke Horab, the legendary Captain Svalbard – the list is beyond belief. 1,000,000 confirmed kills. I think it was asinine for Welker to demote you over the debacle at Bolo Gamma; Everyone knows Franz planned it all out with Kelly Bookbean to ruin your reputation. Personally, I consider your record of victories to be unbroken.”

She smiled toothily at Lopcorn. He didn't reply.

“That's why I took the trouble to – that's why I wanted to have this private conversation. You've demonstrated your value a hundred times over. I, for one, appreciate you. You're effectively a one-man-army. Exactly what I need.”

“I can see why you'd think I could be useful.”

“Mr. Lopcorn. I want you to go to department of defense in my name, and subdue the Space Military by force. Capture the criminal Franz Welker. Take control of the Space Beams + the SM fleet.” She took another deep breath and let it out quick. “There is no alien menace. With Welker de-clawed, the 8 Galaxies will be at peace and we can rebuild them. I'll appoint you minister of defense. When Berg's term is up, you'll be a shoe-in for president. I'll back you. I just need you to save all of our lives - today. Right now. Right now.”

“그는 이것을 두려워했다,” he said under his breath. “No thanks. I was gonna go get him anyway. I don't care about my career or yours.”

He moved toward the exit. Anna Siong looked startled and affronted and confused.

“Don't worry. You're gonna end up where you wanna be. Just don't attach my name to what you're doing.”

“But, have you considered-”

“We're just gonna go,” he said. I got up. “Oh. Since your head of the health dept. You're gonna wanna make sure there's lots of hospital beds ready for tonight.”

“I already have.”

He turned the knob and opened the door. “See ya. Good luck.”

We got in the elevator. I pushed the button for the hangar level and up we went. The hum of the magnetic actuators sounds pretty cool. Chugachugachugachugachugachugachuga. I reach into my pocket and make sure the salad fork is still there, and it is.

The doors iris open and the misty airflow obliterates the basement-staleness in my nostrils. Fresh air and the raucous chatter of the commons swirl around us. The city is transformed, and the people transfixed. Space Military frigates were appearing in the skyway.

“We've got to get to the department of defense before they decide to enforce a curfew,” Lopcorn said. “We can't take your ship. We could steal one, but if we get recognized it's easy to shoot us down. It'll be tricky to get past the fleet...”

“We could get the bus,” I say.

“I don't think the bus is running to Lugdunum today.”

Lugdunum. That's the Presidential City where the highest government offices are.

“The freelance charters down in Low Fog are always running, unofficially,” I inform him. “Taxi Eels are totally indifferent to whatever goes on up here. We can get into Lugdunum from the bottom.”

He looks impressed by my idea. “In the Low Fog...”

“Lots of utility access at 4H altitude. There are always a few commuters who try to beat the shift-change traffic by diving under 5H, so we'll blend in.”

“Makes sense. We only have to get inside. The guards might insist on slowing us down but they can't stop me,” Lopcorn muttered. He stared hard at nothing and he got quiet for a while. I take his elbow and direct him to a broad escalator. We go down to the lowest air terminal in the forum. Condensation adheres to every surface in damp beads that quiver and streak in the draft. I speed-dial the Taxi Eel Taxi Service.

“Hi could I get a ride from the bottom terminal of Formido Tremendum please?”

“Ohhhhh there'd be no meaning in that,” the eel whined. It's well known that Taxi Eels are nihilists.

“Would there be special meaning in denying my request?” I ask.

“Ohh none at all, that would be meaningless! I'm on my way!”

“He's coming,” I tell my hare.

We arrive on the huge platform with dozens of ships coming and going, beeping at each other and flashing their spotlights. The people were in an advanced state of agitation, squabbling noisily and sometimes tussling among each other. An elk spray-painted HANG WELKER on the wall while passers-by snapped photos. Space Military grunts appeared and dragged her off. A bunch of dogs and giraffes pelted their ship with trash as they took off.

“It might be bad for me to get recognized,” Lopcorn muttered. I found a Delivery Lemur hat in my backpack and put it on his head. It fit so poorly over his long ears that it made him laugh out loud. Yeah, no one will recognize him with such a big smile on his face.

“Help! Help me! Please help!” a high voice was calling. A crowd was gathering by the edge of the pier.

“She's stuck!”

“Hang on!”

A pink balloon was caught on the end of a 40-foot antenna jutting horizontally into the sky. A little girl, who must have hopped the safety rail to retrieve it, was dangling for dear life by her fingertips.

“She's going to fall,” a gerbil wailed, covering his eyes. I looked into the blank and endless void below.

The kid was losing her grip. Her fate hung on four little human fingers curled around wet metal. I don't want to see someone drop today. I turn to my companion.

“Can't you-”

Lopcorn's already vaulting the guardrail. With a fearless face he stepped out onto the antenna. He looked smaller against the vast, all-erasing flow of cloud.

“Hey! I'm coming,” he called, carefully inching toward her with a gymnast's balance. “Don't let go.”

I should get ready to pull them up.

I see a gap in the crowd and rush through so I can help, but I trip over something invisible. That's annoying. Second time today.

“Give me your hand,” Lopcorn was saying. He made it all the way out to the end.

The girl gave him a wicked grin. She snagged the balloon's string and floated away on it, sticking out her tongue at Lopcorn.

“Now!” she cried. A grenade or something exploded in the steel truss holding up the antenna and it broke off of the platform and plummeted into the fog. Lopcorn whirled around and I caught his eye. My hat slipped off his head. He fell.

The horror-stricken onlookers scrambled in all directions. I struggle to get to my feet but invisible bodies are pressing all around me. Their perfect camouflage fades to opaque green and I realize I'm surrounded by Commando Chameleons.

“Here sir! Here!” they're saying.

A human comes out, talking on his cell phone. “He's down. Told you so, Daddy-O,,, no need to wake up Milo,,, See you soon.”

It's Cutbarf. I get a sickening rush of adrenaline but I'm too scared to move or do anything.

The balloon girl drifts back and lands next to him.

“Got him, commander! Ya see that? Did ya see?” she frothed.

“Good job Bubblegum,” he said. “You earned some icecream cake,,, Run home now. Eat whatever you want,,, Do not wake Milo up. Don't wake him up.”

“Thanks boss!” Bubblegum saluted and skipped away, chanting. “Fuckin ICE fuckin CREAM fuckin CAKE . YEAH da da da dee dee dee da dee de de da fuckin la la laaa!”

The young commander of the Space Military turned his eyes on me.

“Hey dumbass,,, night-night.”

He stuck a black syringe in my neck and I fell asleep.

#Delivery Lemur

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