#police protection scheme

[infowhirl]

Policiais do Deic são suspeitos de vender proteção a cassinos clandestinos em SP

Um grupo de policiais civis de São Paulo é suspeito de vender proteção a donos de cassinos na capital e Grande São Paulo. De acordo com o jornal Folha de S.Paulo, os agentes investigados trabalham em uma delegacia do Deic (Departamento Estadual de Investigações Criminais).

Os policiais também são suspeitos de criar um monopólio no setor de jogos de azar ao atacarem, com uma série de operações, endereços ligados aos concorrentes desses empresários. Conforme a Folha, um inquérito policial foi instaurado pela Corregedoria da Polícia Civil, que também afastou os agentes supostamente envolvidos no caso.

As the investigation unfolds, the revelations surrounding this group of São Paulo civil police officers have drawn significant attention. Their alleged involvement in creating a protection scheme for casino owners and orchestrating a monopoly in the gambling sector paints a picture of deep-rooted corruption. The fact that they reportedly attacked competitors’ establishments to solidify this monopoly adds another layer of illegality to the case.

The magnitude of the accusations prompted the Corregedoria da Polícia Civil to take swift action, initiating an internal inquiry and suspending the officers involved. This step indicates the seriousness of the claims and the need for thorough examination. With millions of reais possibly exchanged in monthly protection payments, this case has not only impacted the gambling industry but also raised concerns about the trust and integrity within law enforcement.

The investigation is still ongoing, and its findings could have major ramifications for both the police force and the larger battle against organized crime in the region.

[gender-euphowrya]

the way the brba/bcs fanbros treat skyler and kim needs to be studied under a microscope

[flashfeed]

Policiais do Deic são suspeitos de vender proteção a cassinos clandestinos em SP

Um grupo de policiais civis de São Paulo é suspeito de vender proteção a donos de cassinos na capital e Grande São Paulo. De acordo com o jornal Folha de S.Paulo, os agentes investigados trabalham em uma delegacia do Deic (Departamento Estadual de Investigações Criminais).

Os policiais também são suspeitos de criar um monopólio no setor de jogos de azar ao atacarem, com uma série de operações, endereços ligados aos concorrentes desses empresários. Conforme a Folha, um inquérito policial foi instaurado pela Corregedoria da Polícia Civil, que também afastou os agentes supostamente envolvidos no caso.

Um grupo de policiais civis de São Paulo é suspeito de vender proteção a donos de cassinos na capital e Grande São Paulo. De acordo com o jornal Folha de S.Paulo, os agentes investigados trabalham em uma delegacia do Deic (Departamento Estadual de Investigações Criminais).

Os policiais também são suspeitos de criar um monopólio no setor de jogos de azar ao atacarem, com uma série de operações, endereços ligados aos concorrentes desses empresários. Conforme a Folha, um inquérito policial foi instaurado pela Corregedoria da Polícia Civil, que também afastou os agentes supostamente envolvidos no caso.

[tpwrtrmnky]

The rhetorical strategies against trans women can be generalized to just a bunch of different implementations of "blame trans women for things that are done to them"

There's fetishisation of trans women arising from their position as marginalized women ending up in survival sex work? actually trans women's fault for being a sex thing

Trans women have their gender presentation policed heavily by gender clinics? How dare trans women reinforce gender stereotypes!

The position of trans women as vulnerable targets of patriarchal violence means they require access to support structures intended to protect women from said violence? This must be a scheme by the violent men actually.

Trans women are hesitant to participate in debates due to the extreme risk of mass harassment at the hands of the audience? Must be censorship. From the trans women.

Trans women rely on healthcare, which is funded by the exploitative structures of capitalism? This is on trans women. nobody else is to blame here.

[vague-humanoid]

Verizon handed Poppy’s personal data, including the address on file and phone logs, to a stalker who later directly threatened her and drove to an address armed with a knife. Police then arrested the suspect, Robert Michael Glauner, who is charged with fraud and stalking offenses, but not before he harassed Poppy, her family, friends, workplace, and daughter’s therapist, Poppy added. 404 Media has changed Poppy’s name to protect her identity.

Glauner’s alleged scheme was not sophisticated in the slightest: he used a ProtonMail account, not a government email, to make the request, and used the name of a police officer that didn’t actually work for the police department he impersonated, according to court records. Despite those red flags, Verizon still provided the sensitive data to Glauner.

Remarkably, in a text message to Poppy sent during the fallout of the data transfer, a Verizon representative told Poppy that the corporation was a victim too. “Whoever this is also victimized us,” the Verizon representative wrote, according to a copy of the message Poppy shared with 404 Media. “We are taking every step possible to work with the police so they can identify them.”

In the interview with 404 Media, Poppy pointed out that Verizon is a multi-billion dollar company and yet still made this mistake. “They need to get their shit together,” she said.

Poppy’s story highlights the very real human cost of a massive failure on Verizon’s part. More broadly, it highlights the increasing problem of criminals filing fraudulent emergency data requests (EDRs) with tech companies and telecoms as a way to trick them into handing over their targets’ data. Other criminals who discuss the practice are often part of wider criminal groups that rob, shoot, and attack one another and outside victims, according to Telegram messages reviewed by 404 Media. Senators have written to tech companies for information on the problem of fake EDRs, and one company has emerged which attempts to mitigate the problem by vetting requests from police departments. And yet, the issue remains.

“This has completely changed my life, for the rest of my life,” Poppy said, adding that the incident has amplified her PTSD and anxiety from previous trauma.

[guerillas-of-history]

🔴 Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine:

The occupation bears full responsibility for the chaos.

We warn against exploiting our people’s suffering and call for the formation of popular guard committees to protect the home front.

In light of the catastrophic circumstances afflicting our people in the Gaza Strip—brought about by the intensifying zionist war of genocide, the siege, and deliberate starvation, and the resulting dire humanitarian, economic, and security fallout—the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine warns of the dangerous rise in disorder, lawlessness, attacks on property, and intimidation of citizens across the Strip. These behaviors are inseparable from the zionist scheme to dismantle our unity, fracture our national and social cohesion, and plunge our internal arena into chaos and division in a desperate attempt to break our steadfastness and will.

While the Front condemns these phenomena in the strongest terms, it places full responsibility on the zionist occupation, which has created this tragic reality through bombing, destruction, a systematic policy of siege and starvation, and its ongoing targeting of civilians, institutions, and security forces—all in an overt bid to undermine the home front and erode our people’s resilience.

The Front reiterates its full support for Gaza’s security forces in pursuing outlaws and collaborators with the occupation and condemns the zionist targeting of police personnel. It calls for resolute action against these criminals through the united efforts of all segments of our people.

Accordingly, the PFLP calls for the establishment of popular guard committees throughout the Strip—drawing on national and social bodies, community figures, and youth—to safeguard public and private property, relief and service institutions, reinforce societal security, foil any attempts to foment chaos or internal strife, and confront infiltration by occupation agents or criminals.

The Front highly appreciates the stance of patriotic Palestinian families who have honorably opposed such disorder, rejected any conduct that threatens communal security and civil peace, and expressed full readiness to cooperate with the relevant authorities to protect internal stability. This popular consciousness is the true safety valve for our unity.

At the same time, the PFLP warns that some large merchants, influential figures, and businesspeople are exploiting the situation for personal gain—hoarding basic goods, hiking prices, and profiteering from money transfers at exorbitant rates. Such practices are no less dangerous than security chaos; they represent another face of exploitation and deepen citizens’ suffering. The Front therefore demands strict measures to hold anyone proven to be manipulating people’s livelihoods to account.

The present moment, with all its challenges, requires every force, sector, and component of our people to rise to the level of national responsibility and close ranks against these conspiracies. Protecting the home front, strengthening social solidarity, and standing with the afflicted and marginalized are national and moral duties—the first line of defense for our people.

The Front also stresses that what is unfolding in Gaza does not absolve the Arab nation of its responsibilities; rather, it compels it to meet its pan-Arab and humanitarian obligations toward our besieged people, to act swiftly to break the blockade, halt the massacres, and provide tangible support in the face of this open genocide backed by the United States and the West.

Glory to our resistant people and to our righteous martyrs.

Shame and disgrace to all who serve the occupation or profit from our people’s pain.

Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine

Central Media Department

3 May 2025

[shiorihyugawrites]

Masterlist

My original account got randomly terminated 🙃 so here we are building from scratch guys!

Backup account incase Tumblr acts a fool again and terminates me here: @shiorihyuga

Follow me on A03

Join my Patreon! Note: I am four chapters ahead :)

All of my works are 18 + Only | Minors DNI

Currently Working On:

The Legendary Black Cat: Selena de la Rosa, known across Marley as the Legendary Black Cat, is the world's deadliest assassin—a master of agility, precision, and deception. When Marley turns against her, she is shipped to Paradis as a living weapon, chained and drugged, with her survival all but assured to be short-lived. But Selena is no ordinary prisoner.

Bound by no one, loyal to none, Selena plots her next move, determined to seize her freedom by any means necessary. Yet, her plans are complicated by the Scouts who captured her, particularly Captain Levi Ackerman—the so-called Humanity's Strongest Soldier. Selena is intrigued by his strength and reputation, but her pride refuses to acknowledge him as her equal.

Caught between Levi’s unrelenting gaze, Selena plays a dangerous game of manipulation. She’s biding her time, but when the moment comes, will her calculated escape bring her freedom—or will her path collide violently with Levi’s unwavering resolve?

The Black Cat has always landed on her feet, but for the first time, she might meet her match. (Levi x OC)

Red Regrets: Twelve years ago, Levi Ackerman made the hardest decision of his life—he left behind the only woman he ever loved, believing it was for her own good. But fate is cruel, and when a fiery redheaded boy with a familiar scowl crosses his path, Levi is forced to confront the past he abandoned. The truth he never knew. And the woman whose heart he shattered. (Levi x OC)

The Soldier & The Daisy: Raised in the protection of her father, Lady Daisy Lenore lives surrounded by luxury and sheltered from the turmoil outside the walls. But when the war with Marley heats up and the secrets of the world beyond Paradis begin to surface, Daisy’s life is turned upside down.

Levi is assigned as her personal bodyguard, tasked with keeping her safe from the dangerous forces lurking in the shadows. However, the more he spends time with her, the harder it becomes to ignore the undeniable attraction between them. Levi, a man who has never let anyone get close, struggles to protect his heart while safeguarding the woman he’s come to love. (Levi x OC)

Damaged: Before the fall of Wall Maria, a string of brutal murders grips Wall Sina—noblemen found strangled, their mouths stuffed with drugs, and not a trace of the killer left behind. The Military Police call him “The Spider Killer.” But he's no man. She's a ghost in silk and shadow. A master assassin hiding in plain sight. When the Scouts get involved, Levi Ackerman begins to suspect that catching her won’t be so easy… especially when she starts hunting him too. (Levi x OC)

Throne of Flowers: In the opulent court of Valoria, Emperor Solomon and Mikasa Ackerman fight to rewrite a 300-year-old law demanding four noble consorts, determined to make their love the empire’s heart.

As a foreign soldier turned ambassador, Mikasa faces nobles’ scorn and political schemes, while Solomon balances duty and devotion. With allies like Empress Dowager Solana and foes lurking in the empty Rose, Lily, Dahlia, and Peony houses, their bond is tested by tradition, ambition, and secrets.

Can they forge a future where love, not law, reigns supreme? Sequel to Diamond Of The First Water (Mikasa x OC)

The Devil In Your Eyes: In this modern AU, Eren, a magnetic political science major, and Aurora, a gentle pharmacy student, find each other in a world untouched by war. Their soulmate spark ignites at a chaotic college dinner, a fleeting moment that feels like destiny where their instant connection proves they’re meant to be, no matter the timeline, in a tale as tender as it is electric.

Spinoff Sequel to The Devil's Bride (Eren x OC)

Coming Soon:

Nothing....for now 😉

Completed Stories:

A Soft Place: (Levi x Plus Sized OC)

Tides of Fate: (Eren, Levi, Floch, Jean, Armin, Connie, Bertholdt, Reiner x OCs)

Steadfast Hearts: (Levi x OC)

The Ballad Of The Magenta Witch (Eren x OC)

Diamond Of The First Water (Levi x OC)

The Devil's Bride (Eren x OC)

One Shots:

Eren x Reader

The Dumpster Behind The Club

Karma

Power Trip

Owned: Eren x Reader - AU Series

Levi x Reader

Letting Go

Heavy Lifting

Velvet Heat

Steamy

[seungrem]

Dick Grayson x Male!reader

‘Confidential’ ~*+

Masterlist - Part 1 of ??

summary: When reader and a friend fall victim to a scheme in Gotham, a cute cop (if that’s what he really is) takes reader in for protection. Waiting for the mystery regarding his friend’s disappearance to be uncovered, reader insists on helping the cop.

( overview: college student!reader, cop?grayson, Alessio Falcone = made up character, kidnapping, hero-canon-typical violence, a murder attempt, protective custody, and police. basically a plot intro, Batfam & Red Hood cameos )

emoji code:

🌿 ( long story & series - 5.1k words )

🧸 ( light fluff )

🫧 ( light angst )

☁️ ( stands for y/n )

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Sunlight gleamed through the trees above as ☁️ sat alone at a table, his computer buzzing softly. A gentle breeze brushed against his hoodie, cooling the boy in this unusually hot spring air.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused ☁️ to jump, him then noticing a man standing opposite to where he sat. The man placed his brown satchel onto the seat as ☁️ lowered his computer screen.

“Hello, are you ☁️?”

“Hello-oh...”

☁️ lifted his gaze from his computer to the man, looking him up and down. He was tall and handsome with long dark hair and blue eyes. His muscular build was visible through his blue shirt and black jacket. The boy assumed he was simply another student- a hot one at that.

“Oh? Are you not..”

“No, no- sorry. I am, what’s up?”

“I’ve been looking for you. Do you mind if I join you for a sec?” The man’s tone was soft, and his voice not too deep.

“Sure.” ☁️ responded, motioning him to sit. As the stranger sat, the boy stared expectantly at him.

The man reached into his jacket pocket, grabbing a golden badge and briefly holding it in front of ☁️’s face. He quickly placed the badge back into his pocket and then looked around.

“My name is Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick. I’m with the GCPD and I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He paused. “You’re best-friends with Alessio Falcone, right?”

☁️ huffed, annoyed.

“Not really. And you’re the fourth cop who’s come up to me since he went missing. I already told-”

“I only have two interviews on file. Who’s the third one?” Dick said, pulling a tan folder from his bag. He opened it, looking through the pages.

“Tim.. something. I forgot the last name.”

“Drake?”

“Probably.”

Dick cursed under his breath, placing the file on the table.

“I need you to go over the events of last Friday again. Give me every detail.”

“I have a paper to write.” ☁️ said, getting agitated. He rolled his eyes, turning his attention from Dick to his laptop. Dick swiped the laptop away with quickness, closing it, and then placing it into his bag.

“I need you to take this seriously.”

☁️ exhaled. “Alessio and I were only school friends. He’s impulsive and stubborn, and I would be very surprised if he was still alive after two days.”

“He’s a Falcone, after all. So you two were only school friends? Nothing more?”

“Is that not what I said?”

“Play nice or I’m taking this home.” Dick said, tapping his bag.

☁️ sighed, intertwining his fingers and placing his hand in his lap.

- 2 days ago -

Roaring past ☁️ and Alessio, two black vans turned the corner in front of them.

“We’re getting farther from campus. Let’s head back.” ☁️ suggested, looking around at the cloudy sky above. Alessio pretended not to hear him, the two continuing down the sidewalk and turning the corner. Upon turning, the sidewalk came to an abrupt end, with a long path of grass in its place. The two vans parked far in the distance, in front of a seemingly abandoned black barn.

“I wanna see what they’re up to.” Alessio pushed his long brown hair from out of his eyes, him then looking over to ☁️. Alessio wore his signature gray polo-shirt with straight black pants and black loafers, his style making his rich lifestyle particularly obvious.

“That’s an easy way to get killed. We’re still in Gotham.” ☁️ responded as he stopped. Alessio noticed, him doing the same.

“We don’t need to get super close, I just wanna see what they bring inside.” Alessio smiled, gesturing ☁️ to continue forward. His watch reflected the little sunlight that came from the sky as he did so.

Only a few blocks away from Gotham City University, Alessio and ☁️ continued through the grass. The two passed the buildings beside them, a small field of trees now standing in between them and the barn. The road turned into a dirt path, with many thick trees shading each side of it.

“Stay behind the trees.” ☁️ instructed as the two creeped through the mini-forest.

Getting close enough to see what the people from the vans were exporting into the building, ☁️ noticed that the barn was much larger than it appeared. Alessio and ☁️ watched as metal suitcases were carefully lifted and brought inside by a few people at a time.

“What do you think are in them?” Alessio asked in a low tone, keeping his gaze on the small group.

“Drugs, probably. We should head back now.”

“We still have 20 minutes until class.”

“That’s not what I mean. We’ve gotten too close, and it looks like they’re leaving soon.”

The small group of people walked outside, talking loudly amongst themselves. ☁️ could only make out a few phrases, like “..that guy’s a total creep..” and “..what do you think he’s doing with..”

Alessio crept toward a tree that was closer to the group, standing behind it as he listened. ☁️ peaked over at him every few seconds, obviously worried.

After a few minutes, the vans roared down the dirt road and back onto the main one. Alessio hurried back to ☁️, squatting down beside him.

“There’s something weird going on in there.”

“We can just call the cops. I’m not going in there.”

“Well, I am. Be my lookout.”

☁️ grabbed Alessio’s arm, holding it stiffly.

“Alessio, I will NOT go in there if anything happens. Please, let’s report it and go back.”

☁️ doesn’t remember what happened after that, but he does remember freaking out after waiting for 25 minutes. He sent the boy 6 messages, and his battery was getting low.

-

An hour passed, and the clouds were getting darker. ☁️ called the cops, explaining what he had seen and how his friend wasn’t responding. He power-walked his way back to campus as suggested by the dispatcher on the phone, where he met with an officer.

“What do you mean you’re not going in there?! He could be hurt!” ☁️’s eye twitched as another cop pulled to the curb beside the two. The first cop leaned against his car, filling out a packet on a clipboard.

“That property actually belongs to someone, despite it looking abandoned. I’m making your report now, and then we’ll request an emergency warrant.”

“How long will it take?”

“A few hours to a day. This number will give you call with any updates we have of your friend.”

The officer handed ☁️ a small card with a number on it as the second officer approached them.

“It’s being handled.” The first officer stated as he turned to the second, the two then looking at ☁️.

“I’m going to speak to him privately for a moment, we’ll be right back.” The second cop said.

☁️ stood still as the two walked over to the other side of the car. He tried his best to listen in on their conversation, but he once again could only recall certain parts.

“Another missing..” and “could be related to..” with “I know that the warrant … granted, but..”

The boy waited impatiently for them to return, figuring their conversation was referring to the three other students who had also gone missing over the past week. The news spread like wildfire on campus, but the topic quickly faded out of circulation. The paranoia, however, lingered behind.

The officers walked back to where ☁️ stood.

“I’m going to put this in asap, if you have any concerns call the number on the card or the non-emergency number.” The first officer said, him then getting into his car.

“I know this is a tough situation. Do you need a ride home?” The second officer asked, watching as ☁️ looked down and nodded.

- 2 days later -

“Did they give you an update on the warrant?” Dick continued writing on his small notepad.

“Yes, they said it was approved and that they would send their tactical team in tomorrow morning. I’m just worried that it’s too late.”

“I’m not sure why they waited so long considering there’s been another two students missing since.” Dick placed his head into his fist, clearly thinking out loud. “It’s not a coincidence.”

“Whatever creep is in there probably has my friend..” ☁️ paused, his mouth becoming dry and his head pounding. “Are we done? I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“Have you slept since then?”

☁️ was taken aback by the question, but looked up with a monotone gaze, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry.” Dick muttered, him then grabbing the computer from his bag and placing it in front of ☁️.

“No need to be. Is that all?”

“No.”

☁️ exhaled again, hoping to make the cop go away with a harsh tone. “What more do you want?”

“Can you show me where that barn is?”

☁️ gave him a glare, becoming suspicious.

“Are you sure you’re a cop?”

“I showed you my badge, didn’t I?”

“You seem too young.”

“I’m in my early twenties, same as you. I’m only a year or two older.”

“Right..” ☁️ glanced around him. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Do you wanna find your friend or not?”

-

“I’m stopping here. You can see it down that path and behind the trees.” ☁️ turned to Dick, who walked into the middle of the empty road.

“Thank you. I’ll try to investigate tonight.”

☁️ furrowed his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to come back and see if I can find anything.”

“Alone?”

“Probably not.”

“Can I come with?”

Dick turned to the boy.

“Absolutely not.”

“But you’re going.”

“I’m a cop.”

“I still don’t believe you.”

☁️ turned around and walked back around the corner. Dick followed closely behind, choosing to stay silent. As the two walked down the sidewalks in silence, they crossed the street to the GCU. ☁️ stopped as he stepped onto the stone path and turned to Dick.

“So, I’ll see you tonight?”

“Nope. I don’t need another student going missing.” He responded, looking around. “You shouldn’t be alone around campus, anymore. Let me walk you back to your dorm.”

“How’d you know I dormed?”

“I read the report before I came.”

“So you had me re-explain everything even though you knew?” ☁️ scowled at Dick, which seemingly amused him.

“I had to make sure your story matched up with what you told the cops.”

“Hm..”

☁️ took a few steps away from Dick.

“I think I’ll be fine walking alone, I’ll see you tonight.”

“☁️, I’m serious. I shouldn’t have told you-”

“I need to find my friend. Please.” ☁️ turned his back to Dick and motioned him to follow, the two continuing down the path.

“It would be easier to scan the area if you had more people helping.”

“I don’t think you understand how dangerous this is. We don’t know what ‘creeps’ are in there, if they’re affiliated with a crime boss or villain, how many there are, and if your friend is even still inside.” Dick hesitated, continuing, “..I’m going to tell you something confidential, can you promise to not tell anyone?”

☁️ turned to him and nodded, Dick beginning upon observing the gesture.

“Carmine Falcone is livid, and he’s been sending his guys to the area to retrieve his son. From what I’ve heard, his guys have been going missing too. It’s not just students getting picked off. Anybody who’s in the area is… and I’m very surprised nobody’s come to get you yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Considering you pretty much exposed the operation to the police, I expected whoever was behind it to get at you next. To keep you quiet or.. you know.. Which is partially why I’ve come today.”

“You’re confusing me.” ☁️ groaned as the two passed a small group of students. Waiting for the group to gain some distance, ☁️ continued.

“Who are you? Actually.”

“I’m a private investigator. Pretty much a cop.”

“And who hired you?”

“Confidential.”

“Then I guess our conversation ends here. My dorm is down the block. If you find anything, please fine me again.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask for your number. For professional purposes, of course.”

“Oh, sure.” ☁️ smirked, taking Dick’s phone. After typing his number in, he handed the device back.

“Thanks.”

☁️ nodded, walking off. He felt Dick continue behind him, causing the boy to turn around.

“I told you I was fine from here.”

“I know, I just need to go back with you.”

“What? Why?”

“Precautionary measures.”

“For?”

“We’ll see.”

“Dick, I don’t think you need to-”

“I expect someone to be in your dorm. That’s why I insist on going with.”

“You mean my roommate?”

“Don’t you have your own room?”

“How do you know that?”

“Private investigator.”

☁️ huffed and nodded, turning around the corner toward a large beige building of gothic architecture. Dick walked in front of ☁️, opening the glass doors and waiting for him to step through. ☁️ smiled at the gesture, whispering his thanks to the man. Pulling out his student ID from his backpack, ☁️ approached the front desk with Dick not too far behind.

“Hello, this man is another cop. He’s going to inspect my room quickly.”

☁️ watched as Dick took his badge from out of his jacket pocket. He held it over the desk for the front desk lady to see, her then nodding in understanding.

“No problem, I’m just going to need to scan his ID.”

Dick pulled out his ID from his jean pocket, sliding it over to the lady. She took it and placed it over a small black box, it beeping only a second later. She handed the ID to Dick and smiled.

“All good.”

“Thanks.” Dick smiled, following ☁️ across the lobby and to the elevators. Their shoes tapped against the marble floors, ☁️ watching Dick look around from over his shoulder. The two stopped in front of the elevators as ☁️ tapped the button.

“Have you ever been inside this place?” ☁️ asked, Dick continuing to look around.

“Once when I was younger, so it’s been a while. My adopted dad went here and contributes to the school pretty often.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” ☁️ responded. The elevator beeped and opened, the two stepping inside.

The ride was quiet, with ☁️ keeping an eye on Dick. Dick noticed, breaking the silence as they finally had reached the sixth floor.

“Still don’t trust me?”

“That’s right.”

The two strolled down the hall, ☁️ recognizing a classmate he was friends with.

“☁️, hey!” She said, walking up to the two guys.

“Ah, hey. How’re you?”

“Good, how’re you? And who’s this cutie?” She whispered the last question, leaning into ☁️ while looking at Dick. Dick looked away as the two quickly conversed.

“Nobody, he’s just taking a quick look at my room.” He whispered back. The friend gave him a suggestive smirk, which made ☁️ shake his head.

“It’s not like that, he’s a cop.”

“How’d you pull a cop?”

“He’s just so full of charm.” Dick said sarcastically, nudging at ☁️’s arm. Though confused, ☁️ and his friend waved goodbye to each other as they parted ways. Dick and ☁️ continued down the hallway, Dick still gripping the boy’s arm.

“You don’t have to hold my arm anymore.”

“You pulled a cop, remember? Take responsibility.” Dick teased, though the boy smiled and rolled his eyes in response. He pulled away from Dick as he arrived to his door toward the end of the hallway.

“Here we are.” ☁️ said softly, grabbing his keycard from his backpack pocket. As he was about to slide it into the door lock, Dick stopped him.

“Wait, here’re the rules. I walk in first, and you stay three steps behind me. If someone’s in there, just stay back. I’ll take care of them.” Dick whispered, leaning into ☁️.

“You’re awfully confident. And paranoid.” ☁️ whispered back.

“This isn’t my first rodeo.”

☁️ blinked at the comment, ultimately ignoring it. He placed his card into the lock, allowing Dick step in first. ☁️ followed around three feet behind as the two tiptoed into the room. Dick placed his bag down, him then quickly opening the closet in the hallway, with nothing but a few pairs of shoes and jackets inside. He continued slowly, stopping in front of the bathroom door to the right- it slightly ajar. As Dick was about to push it open, a man jumped out and tackled him to the floor. ☁️ fell back in shock, crawling backwards.

Dick used his legs to toss the man off and behind him, quickly standing up. The man did the same, repeatedly lunging at Dick with a shiny object in his hand. Dick smoothly dodged the attacks, grabbing the man’s wrist and pulling it, Dick then kneeing him in the stomach. With a swift punch to the temple, the man fell to the ground, unconscious.

Dick hurried back to ☁️, helping him stand up. He looked back, then holding his hand to his lips to keep him quiet. The two continued down the hallway into the tiny kitchen, there luckily being nobody there. Opening the last door down the hall, Dick walked into ☁️’s bedroom. ☁️ remained outside, staring at the unconscious man on the other side of the hall. He turned his attention back to Dick, who looked through his closet and then under his bed. Upon giving the ‘okay,’ he walked back over to ☁️.

“They only sent one goon. That’s rare.” Dick muttered before walking down the hall. ☁️ followed slowly behind him.

“I’m not gonna say I told you so. But..”

“I know, I know. Thank you.”

Dick nodded, walking into the bathroom and turning the light on. ☁️ waited outside again, Dick carrying a duffle bag out only a few seconds later.

“Assuming this isn’t yours?” Dick asked, ☁️ whispering a ‘no.’ He placed the bag beside the man on the floor, Dick then going through his satchel. The man on the floor now had an extremely apparent bruise on his temple, directly under his receding hairline. He wore a plain white tee with a few dirt marks on it, along with dark green cargo pants and big black boots.

Dick hurried to dig through his bag, him pulling a pair of handcuffs out and pushing the guy onto his stomach, handcuffing him. He then checked the guy’s pockets, finding an old smartphone and a walkie talkie. Dick placed both objects into his bag before turning to ☁️.

“Hurry and pack your stuff. You can’t stay here for a while.”

-

Dick had called the cops to take the intruder away as ☁️ followed the small group outside. The officers and Dick carried the man into a cop car, while ☁️ waited outside with a suitcase and his backpack.

Dick walked back to him, a pitiful expression across his face.

“I’m sorry that it has to be like this. It’ll only be until I crack this case.”

“I understand, but where am I going to go?”

“Do you have family in Gotham?”

“If I did I wouldn’t be dorming.”

“Oh, right… Wanna stay with me?”

“Not sure that I’d feel much safer with a mysterious private investigator.”

“Lucky for you, I’ve got a family full of them. I also already told the officers that you said you would.”

☁️ pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Oh don’t give me that look. My family’s very nice.”

“I have no doubt about that. I just don’t wanna be a burden.”

“Oh stop, I’m inviting you.”

☁️ nodded. “Does this mean I can go with you tonight?”

“Still no. I have to make a few calls, just follow behind me.”

The two conversed as they continued through the campus, ☁️ trying to get some information out of Dick.

“So, do you know the cop I spoke to last night? Tim-something?”

“Yes, but it’s complicated.”

“How so?” ☁️ asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s not his actual name, and he’s my brother. He uses our other brother’s name when he’s out.”

“That’s.. odd. Is your name actually Richard, then?”

“Yes, I don’t do that. Only they do.”

☁️ nodded in understanding. Dick continued.

“You’re going to love my little brothers. Tim is a genius and the most considerate boy I know. And Damien is very kind-spirited- he’s outspoken and also very observant. You met Jason, already. He’s just a big teddy bear, honestly.”

☁️ raised an eyebrow at the last comment as Dick continued.

“I have other siblings, but they aren’t staying with us at the moment.”

“The Jason I met was big and scary..”

“That’s just ‘cause he’s working. He’s a softie, and he’ll make you laugh a lot when he’s not out.”

☁️ didn’t necessarily believe him, as the Jason he met yesterday was very straightforward with a somewhat aggressive tone.

“Right..”

After that, the conversation ended and the walk was silent once again. The silence didn’t last long, as Dick kept peering over to ☁️.

“So.. since we’re being honest with each other.. Is Alessio really your friend?”

“Yes, we met last semester. I thought that he was an asshole until we worked together on a project. He’s a lot nicer than people say.”

“So you aren’t dating?”

☁️ looked over to Dick, his eye twitching.

“This is the second time you’ve suggested that. What makes you think we’re together?”

“Mm.. just wondering.”

“Did you wanna take me out or something?” ☁️ asked, sarcastically. He smiled and turned to Dick.

“Maybe.”

“Wait, really?”

“You pulled a cop, remember?”

“How long are you gonna hold that against me?”

“Dunno.” Dick shrugged. Now, he was the one to grin at the man next to him.

-

A black SUV pulled beside Dick and ☁️ in the campus’s parking lot. Dick leaned against his motorcycle, still on the phone. Though ☁️ tried his best not to eavesdrop, Dick had called a man named Alfred to pick him up. Then, he called someone named Bruce, explaining ☁️’s situation in soft whispers. Now, he was on the phone with Jason, who seemed to be giving Dick a hard time. ☁️ only heard bits of the conversation.

An older man got out of the black SUV and opened the trunk, Dick gesturing for ☁️ to walk over to him.

“Hello, Mr. ☁️, right?”

“Yes, hello.” ☁️ said, watching the man take his suitcase and gently place it into the vehicle.

“What’s your name?”

“Please call me Alfred.”

☁️ nodded, watching as Alfred walked past him and opened the backseat door. He pointed inside, ☁️ saying a ‘thank you’ and stepping inside with his backpack around his shoulder. Alfred closed the door, approaching Dick as he hung up the phone. The two conversed for a few seconds before Alfred walked back alone, stepping into the vehicle.

“Master Dick has some errands to run before he joins you at the manor. He should be back shortly after you arrive.” Alfred explained as he started the car engine.

“Okay.” ☁️ said dully, watching out of the window as Dick sped away on his motorcycle.

—

Alfred and ☁️ conversed for the entirety of the ride, with the boy explaining his peculiar situation. After a few minutes, the vehicle pulled up to a set off tall, black gate doors. The estate fencing spread far down the road, with a sharp point on each post top- the bottom end going through lined brick along the ground.

Alfred pulled out his phone, the tall gate doors opening moments later. He turned his gaze to ☁️ in the rear-view mirror, ☁️ unintentionally returning the gaze as the man drove into the property. He drove down a stone path lined by large bushes before turning slightly, a mansion of brown and blacks now in view.

“Master Dick volunteered the manor as your safe house as opposed to a protective custody facility. There must be something very special about you, Mr. ☁️.”

☁️ felt as though his tone was rather suggestive, but nodded and smiled as Alfred parked the car.

The two got out, Alfred opening the trunk and grabbing ☁️’s suitcase. They then proceeded up the steps, with the door opening as soon as Alfred placed the suitcase back onto the ground. ☁️ peaked from behind him, seeing a tall man with black hair and a scar on lip in the doorframe. It was Tim- or rather- Jason, the cop who ☁️ spoke to yesterday.

“I’ll take it, Alfred.” Jason said, picking the suitcase up as if it weight nothing.

“Master Jason will take you to your room.”

“Thank you.” ☁️ turned from Alfred to Jason, who began walking into the manor and toward the double staircase. ☁️ followed closely behind, the size of the home making him feel small. The two walked up the left side of the staircase in silence. Upon reaching the top, Jason placed the suitcase down softly and turned to ☁️.

“Hi. I know we met before and it’s weird seeing me again. My name’s actually Jason, my brother is Tim-“

“I know, Dick told me about it.” ☁️ interrupted with a gentle tone, saving Jason the explanation.

“What else did he tell you?” Jason asked as he began down the hallway.

“You’re both private investigators. And that you’re a ‘big teddy bear’ apparently.”

Jason scoffed at the comment, a smirk forming on his face.

“Do you think I’m a ‘big teddy bear?’” Jason turned to him as he stopped at a door to his right. He pushed it open, dragging ☁️’s suitcase inside.

“More of just big.” ☁️ muttered, looking him up and down- Jason wearing a white shirt with wrinkled black jeans, his hair just as messy as it was yesterday. He was taller than Dick, but his muscles could be seen from his clothing just the same. Jason heard ☁️’s response and tried not to look offended.

“I mean in a.. muscular way..” ☁️ said, walking in front of him to look at the room.

“Wow..” Jason responded sarcastically.

The room was large with walls of maroon and gold accents. A wardrobe, dressers, a nightstand, and the bed frame were all a dark brown wood material. The ceiling was white, as were the window frames. Wooden flooring reflected a light brown, though it didn’t creak as ☁️ walked across it.

“This was my room, but I don’t mind you staying in it for a bit. The sheets are clean and the dresser next to the bed is empty, so you can put your clothes in it.”

“Where are you going to sleep, then?” ☁️ asked, turning to face him.

“The couch. I have my own place- I’ve just been staying here for the past few days to deal with.. y’know.. your case.”

“I don’t think I understand, but I don’t want to take your bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” ☁️ said, grabbing his suitcase handle and dragging it toward the door. Jason stepped in front of him, blocking the doorway.

“I don’t mind. Unless you want to take Dick’s room. He’s got a thing for you, and if you don’t feel the same way, I think that’d be a little awkward.”

☁️ looked away from Jason, and smiled.

“I do, just a bit. He’s cute, but I barely know him.”

“He’s dated, like, three people in his entire life. I don’t think you have much to worry about.”

☁️ nodded as Jason moved out of his way.

“It’s the next door down. I’ll wash his sheets for you.”

“Thanks.”

Moonlight emitted through the room windows, illuminating the bed in which ☁️ sat on.

Dick’s room was comfortable and just as large as Jason’s. He visited ☁️ shortly after the boy arrived at the manor, obviously pleased to see the ☁️ in his bed. Not too long after, Alfred gave him a tour of the home, introducing him to the Wayne Manor. Both surprised and intimated to be in the Bruce Wayne’s house, ☁️ remained in the room to avoid meeting more of Dick’s family.

After falling asleep in Dick’s bed, it was now nighttime. ☁️ grabbed his phone from the nightstand, pulling up the man’s ‘Hey, this is Dick.’ message. He noticed that it was around 11pm as he began typing.

‘Hey, are you still going back there tonight?’

He placed the phone in his pocket and walked to the door, peaking out to make sure nobody was around. He silently wandered down the hallway and to the railing between the set of stairs, finding Alfred dusting the shelves below him. He walked down, watching as Alfred turned in his direction. ☁️ approached him.

“Hey Mr. Alfred. Do you know where Dick is?”

“I’m sorry, you missed him. Master Dick left an hour ago.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“He said it was ‘confidential.’”

☁️ furrowed his eyebrows, contemplating on whether or not Dick went back to that barn.

“Actually, Mr. ☁️, Master Dick informed me that you had hoped to join him tonight. He gave me specific orders to keep you inside- it seemed he did not want you leaving due to safety concerns.”

Annoyed, ☁️ pursed his lips. “Oh.. I understand. Thank you.”

Alfred nodded. “While you slept we had dinner, and I packed some food away for you. It’s in the fridge, please help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

☁️ nodded again, thanking Alfred as he walked down the hallway and toward the kitchen. Jason was in there, running around the island as he rushed passed ☁️. Upon realizing that ☁️ was behind him, he quickly turned back around.

“Hey ☁️, did Dick reach out to you in the past hour?”

☁️ shook his head. “Alfred basically said he left to the barn an hour ago.”

Jason nodded, about to turn around before ☁️ began grilling him.

“Why? Is he there? Is he okay?”

“..Confidential. I might have to head over there as well.” Jason said, not looking ☁️ in the eye.

“Why does everybody keep saying that to me? Take me with.”

“I can’t.”

“Jason, please. I want to help.”

“Help by not getting yourself killed.” Jason said, pulling out his phone as it buzzed. He read the words on the screen before looking up at ☁️.

“Actually, I’ll have a friend pick you up. Be ready in 10 mins. To avoid anybody seeing you, climb out the window and use the gutter to get to the ground. Walk across the garden and use the bird bath next to the gate to jump over it. Walk around and meet him in front of the entrance.”

“Gonna assume you’ve done that before?”

“Many times.” Jason said before smiling and rushing out of sight. A skeptical Alfred peaked from down the hall, forcing ☁️ to return to the kitchen. He grabbed a fruit and quickly ate it before walking back to his room. He threw on a black sweater and zipped it up, him then opening Dick’s window and climbing out. The night’s cool air brushed against ☁️’s face almost immediately, with the sounds of crickets and leaves swishing together filling the air.

‘I’m an idiot for doing this- trusting these people and going back to that place. But I really need to know what’s in there. I need to see it for myself.’ ☁️ thought to himself as he carefully slid down the gutter, trying to make his escape a silent one. He ran across the grass through a garden of large bushes and flowers, finding the bird bath Jason had mentioned. He climbed on top of it, leaning forward and grasping the side of a post’s sharp point. Leaning forward, he hoisted himself over the gate, barely grazing the posts’ sharp tips. ☁️ bracing for impact, he landed on his knees and elbows. He brushed himself off, and then ran along the gate. Cutting around the corner, he found a pair of glowing red eyes piercing through him. The Red Hood was waiting for him.

“Get on.” Red Hood instructed, his voice deep and synthetic.

☁️ hurried over to the motorcycle Red Hood sat on, holding onto his waist as the two sped off into the night.

likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

a/n: i’ve been itching to do a dc fic :,) ik this isn’t usually what i write, but thx for giving it a chance ! <3

[nenoname]

Journal 3’s references to Stan

(…does the Lost Pages count as J3 when some had to be in J2 and also may or may not be a truth lie turducken? idk. Ford’s TBoB letters sure as hell don’t count as J3 but I’m including them here anyway)

Lost Journal Pages

"STANLEY COULD HAVE MADE HER LAUGH"

“My stomach sank a bit when I realized… it was my birthday. This day has felt… odd, since S and I… parted ways.”

"I was adjusting my TV antennae for weather reports (looking for ideal conditions for F's first portal test) and spat out my coffee when I saw THIS! My brother hawking scams under the name "Panley Stines." I had half a mind to call that number, just to pretend to be the police and maybe scare S straight for once! There is something so galling about seeing your OWN FACE committing crimes on your own TV! When my Muse saw me break my stress ball, I decided it was finally time to vent about Stanley."

""How about that; you've got an inferior clone! Why didn't you just eat him in the womb? Think of how powerful you'd be!"

"You can't just eat your twin, Bill."

You'd be surprised what you can eat! I say sure, call him if you want him to start mooching off you again! ME, I went no contact with my home dimension and I don't regret it. All they did was hold me back and sabotage my talents! Can you imagine?"

"More than you know. But you do ever wonder if maybe... maybe things could have been different?""

"Our heat budget was so tight that Mom forced S and me to wear one sweater at the same time. (She called it the "Abominable Snow-Stan." Our cat lived in fear of it year-round.)"

“DAMN! This morning I found F rummaging through my old copy of Urban Legends of New Jersey, where I had forgotten I had hidden some old personal items! I’ve quickly re-hidden them here, away from prying eyes.”

"But then he crossed a line. Helplessly I watched Cipher in my own body limp up to a pay phone and dial... STANLEY'S phone number from the infomercial?! No. He wouldn't.

"Hey brother, it's Sixer. I'm going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, and I might not ever come back, so if you don't hear from me, I just want you to know that it's because I never loved you. BUH-BYEEEEE."

My heart was in my throat until I heard the dial tone... The pay phone was out of order. The message hadn't gotten through. Cipher turned back to address me.

"TSK, TSK, TSK. LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME MAKE YOU DO! TOMORROW'S TAPE IS GONNA BE MUCH WORSE.""

(Bro secret code) "miss you"

“The snow has begun to fall again and there’s very little time. There’s only one left I can turn to to protect my journals while I prepare for the journey…”

"S is an overgrown child with none of my rigorous mental training. Who knows what could happen if Cipher stepped inside Stanley's mind for even one minute...

What if Stanley somehow manages to destroy the portal just like he destroyed my perpetual motion machine? I suppose that machine did work in its own way... It kept me perpetually angry for thirty years."

(Bro secret code) "HAVE I BEEN TOO HARSH ALL ALONG?"

"What if he tries to rope me into his latest get-rich-quick scheme? His latest commercial was for "Stan Sauce: The Miracle Sauce that's too cool for the FDA!"

What if... he mocks me? What if he sees that I abandoned our family to become a recluse on the brink of madness? Could I risk admitting that I was... wrong?

PROS: I have no one else. Well, that settles it. It's time to come face-to-face with a face I haven't seen in 10 years. My own face. Which... is my brother's face. God, I miss sleep."

Ford’s Letters

"In the weeks since Weirdmageddon, I conducted numerous tests on Stanley's mind (his terrible jokes are still intact) and inspected the state for dimensional leakage (we also took turns kicking the statue, and Stanley took a few cracks with a crowbar). I burned every Cipher-shaped item I had ever collected, and even threw away all my one-dollar bills, just to be safe (Stanley, of course, found and pocketed them).

“I emerged from my lab after days of agonized contemplation to find- to my shock- that Mabel was reading the book, out loud, to Stanley, Dipper, Soos, and Wendy!”

“They didn’t see me as an irredeemable screwup. Stanley said, "So, your past is just a giant pile of mistakes? Congratulations- you really are a Pines!”“

"Bill may tell you that happiness requires conquering galaxies and living forever, but I've seen enough of the universe to tell you that he's wrong. I've found my happiness. And it looks like this:"

"If you're reading this... then I am dead. Kidding! Sorry, Stanley thought that would be funny. Ha-ha! We're currently out shopping for harpoons to prepare for our trip to the arctic."

"Stan, if you end breaking into my lab at some point later today- Bravo! Still as good a locksmith as in 8th grade. Beers are under the desk."

(It kinda strikes me that the BoB Lost Journal pages about Stan sound far more like post-portal Ford’s opinions on Stan instead, where he’s openly angry at both being pushed into the portal + at the portal being opened again + his murder suicide attempt being foiled + Stan disowning him + turning his house into a tourist trap + taking his identity vs pre-portal Ford being more… melodramatic(?) constantly being reminded of him but not wanting to linger too long? idk the vibes are different

Plus pre-portal Ford pretty consistently only calls Stan "S” or just refers to him as his brother (with the exception of him writing his name in a Caesar cipher). I think he only ever messes up the general naming scheme a single time when he wrote Fiddleford instead of F

…not to mention the perpetual motion machine comment says thirty instead of ten years)

Other sections: Pre-Portal, Post-Portal, Post-Weirdmageddon

[mellowsadistic]

"What am I wearing?!" Tracy shrieked, getting up on her knees and goggling at the disposable diaper strapped tightly around her waist. Her head felt funny. Why was she in bed? The last thing she remembered was Sabrina, her stepdaughter-to-be, giving her something to drink, and then...

"Ah, you're awake!" came a young woman's voice. "Did you enjoy your little nap, Tracy?"

Tracy looked up to see Sabrina standing over her, a mocking smile on her face. "Sabrina?" She still felt a little confused and disoriented, but she didn't like the expression on the girl's face at all. "What's going on?" she demanded. "What did you..." She thought back to that moment in the kitchen, when Sabrina had unexpectedly offered to make her morning coffee. "Did you drug me?!" she screeched. "And why did you put me in a fucking diaper?"

Sabrina's smile widened. "If my Dad wants to get remarried, fine," she said matter-of-factly. "But it's not going to be to some vapid bimbo who's only after his wallet."

Tracy flushed. So what if she was only after Sabrina's father for his money? He was in his sixties or something. If he wanted a hot young trophy wife, what was wrong with that? And if she ended up divorcing him after a year or so and taking half of his fortune, it would be his own stupid fault for being so naïve.

"Unfortunately," said Sabrina, "Dad's been totally taken in by your seductive little schemes, so it's up to me to protect him." Her eyes glittered dangerously. "It's up to me to make sure he'll never be attracted to you again."

"What are you..." But Tracy suddenly gasped, a manicured hand flying to her mouth, as she felt a tiny trickle of pee leak into her Pampers. She tried to clamp down on the flow, but nothing happened. The trickle stopped after only a few seconds, but it was enough to make the padding between her legs feel disgustingly warm and wet, and more to the point, it had been completely out of her control. “What did you do to me?!" she squealed, repulsed by the sensation of piss soaking into her pants and pressing against her pussy.

"You really are stupid, aren't you?" Sabrina laughed. "Isn't it obvious, you dumb whore? I made you incontinent. Or is that word too big and complicated for you? Would it be easier to understand if I told you that you'll never use the little girl's room again?"

Tracy stared at her, open-mouthed, too stunned and horrified to speak. She couldn’t be incontinent. She couldn’t be. It wasn't possible to just take someone's control away!

"I added a special ingredient to your latte this morning," Sabrina explained, as if reading her mind. "A little something I found online. A few drops are enough to cause total and permanent incontinence, though I promise you it's quite untraceable, so don't bother running to the police to whine about how your boyfriend's meanie daughter stole your potty training. I made sure not to leave any evidence, and you'll just sound crazy."

Tracy felt as though she'd been doused in icy water. If Sabrina was telling the truth, if she really was incontinent, then she'd never be able to seduce a man again! Her stomach rolled as she imagined trying to persuade Sabrina's father to buy her a new pair of shoes, clutching his arm and rubbing her breasts against his chest, only to feel her diaper drooping between her legs as she pooped in it without warning. She'd be a joke!

Sabrina was smirking. "Are you getting it now, you gold-digging trollop? Your homewrecking days are over. Men aren't going to look twice at you when they find out about your little potty-pants problem. The kind of guys you're after want a hot piece of ass, not a diapered one, and without your sex appeal you're nothing but an overgrown brat. But you should know, there are men out there who are into girls that need diapers. Maybe you could find one of them to look after you? Of course, it wouldn't be the kind of glamorous lifestyle you'd hoped for... It would be a life of spankings, early bedtimes, messy highchair feedings, and begging your Daddy for diapie changes. But hey, at least you wouldn't have to work!"

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

So I was rewatching Lilo and Stitch and this came to me, feel free to reject it.

How about Shadow and/or Sonic with a reader who basically has the same backstory as Sitch? Being created by a mad alien scientist, created for destruction, and wanted by the space police.

Honestly I imagine they end up meeting when they are sent on a mission or notice that everyone been complaining about their left shoe being stolen and the city plumbing being backed up.

“A Strange Little Alien”

Pairing(s): (Platonic) Sonic the Hedgehog x Reader, (Platonic) Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader, Sonic x Shadow

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: You were unlike anything they ever came across. But they were determined to help set you on the right path.

Notes: Hiii! So, um- This one gives off chaotic child reader energy so that’s what I did! I hope that’s fine and I hope you enjoy! And sorry if this isn't as you envisioned it!

(Reader will be gender-neutral and is a child.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

At first, they thought it was another Eggman attack, like it usually was.

But this was…odd, even for him.

“All of my left shoes are missing!” people complained.

“The plumbing’s been backed up!” others complained.

“Yeesh, this is weird,” Sonic comments. “This doesn’t seem like a scheme from the Egghead.”

“For once, I agree with you,” Shadow says. “These things feel too…petty to be him.”

“You think it’s some smaller villain?” Sonic asks.

“EEEK! GETAWAYGETAWAYGETAWAY!” someone yells.

Both hedgehogs look in the direction of the screaming to see…

An odd sight.

A little alien seems to be trying to pull the person’s shoe off of their foot with their teeth, letting off a hiss when the person hits them on the head with a broom.

“What…is that?” Sonic asks.

“I’m not sure,” Shadow states.

The little alien, you, sees the two hedgehogs, hissing again and you decide to hide in the nearby alley.

“Well, whatever they are, they’re causing havoc,” Sonic says.

“They look small enough to be a child,” Shadow remarks.

“Oh crap, are they a child???” Sonic asks in a panicked tone.

“If they are a child, we need to get them off the streets,” Shadow states.

Sonic nods, and the two hedgehogs go in the alley where you went.

You seem to be sitting in a crumpled cardboard box, a large pile of shoes and pipes to your left.

Getting a closer look at you, you seem to have little antennae on your head, one of them being bent, short, matted hair, colored [color of your choice], torn clothing, and a few bruises adorning your body.

You seem to be quite skinny also, not enough to show bone but enough to show that you haven’t eaten in a few days, and you have small eye bags.

You notice the two hedgehogs again and let off another hiss, your eyes widening in fear.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay kid! We’re not here to hurt you,” Sonic says.

You back away a little bit, but don’t let off another hiss as Sonic comes closer, leaning down to appear smaller and less threatening.

Shadow, meanwhile, is watching from the entrance of the alley, his arms crossed.

The second Sonic reaches towards you, you bite his finger, causing him to let out a pained noise.

Shadow lets off a quick snicker, coming over and scooping you into his arms with no fuss, and you let go of Sonic’s finger.

“I- How?” Sonic asks.

Shadow just shrugs.

It…took a while for everyone to get used to you, that’s for sure.

Especially because of your destructive nature.

But that’s not what bugged Sonic and Shadow the most.

It was your drawings.

You would draw pictures of you in a tube, other creatures such as yourself, and experiments you went through.

Shadow vowed to himself to protect you, knowing the pain of experiments himself.

But first…

He and Sonic had to take care of your tendency for destruction.

[gars-weaponeer]

Let's talk about he unwarranted Fox hate.

I often see that a lot of people tend to hate on Commander Fox, often portraying him as a villainous kind of character or very cold and selfish compared to the more heroic and beloved Commander Thorn.

I see these two characters portrayed as "the good commander" and "the bad commander" of the Coruscant guard, when in reality they are both pretty much the same character.

But just for the fact that Fox killed Fives, the public decided to label him as a "bad guy".

But that's not the case, in fact if we changed characters and placed Thorn hunting after Fives and Fox on the diplomatic mission, chances are both situations would have ended the same way: with Fives dead at the hands of Thorn and Fox dying heroically for the republic.

Why is this?

Well for starters we need to understand what a Coruscant guard is.

These were clones that were raised and trained differently from common clone troopers as their assignment was to act as a security police force for Coruscant. As a result, they dealt with different threats than normal troopers.

Clone troopers knew what their enemies looked like, the separatist forces were easy to recognize in the battlefield. But for the Coruscant guard the enemy could take many forms. They would not see battle droids on the streets attempting on the lives of the senate. They would have to deal with terrorists, dressed as common folk or unconscious work droids. They had to be more alert and more skeptic of their surroundings 24/7 as the fate of the republic laid in their hands.

One false move could cost the lives of the chancellor and the senate and with them the Republic would fall. That is the weight these clones carry on their shoulders. This is the responsibility that both Fox and Thorn carry along with the other commanders in red.

Both Fox and Thorn are very similar in canon.

Fox appears more than Thorn and we can see from his canon(and legends) appearances that he is a fiercely loyal clone to the republic, hard working and honorable like many of his brothers. He is the first to charge into battle, leading his troops with bravery and has little patience for criminals.

Thorn seems to have a similar sense of duty, loyalty and bravery that Fox has, as he also stands his ground during battle, refusing to surrender til the very last second. We sadly don't see more of Thorn beyond his one and only appearance.

So why do people hate Fox so much, when he and Thorn are not that different?

Well, he killed Fives.

But I don't think he should be hated for it.

To explain this, join me to see things through the fox's eye, and learn the other side of the story.

We as the audience know Fives since he is a Shiny, and we see him grow up, level up, become an ARC trooper and survive many perils. We see him discover that one plot that we know causes so much death and destruction and even tho we know the ending of the story, we want to root for him and we get frustrated when we see no-one hears him out. We also, as the audience, know that Palpatine is the bad guy, he is playing chess against himself and ruining the lives of countless people for his own sick pleasure in his path to rule the Galaxy.

But Fox doesn't know any of this.

He doesn't know Palpatine is secretly Dath Sidious. He doesn't know there is a secret plot to destroy the Jedi and that he and his brothers are just pawns in a greater scheme.

As far as he is concerned, the Chancellor is the head of the Republic, and if anything happens to him it might mean the end of the Republic and the death of not only him but all his brothers. It's his duty to protect Palpatine from harm. And there are a lot of people trying to hurt him.

He also doesn't know Fives.

He might have heard of him as Fives is a respected ARC trooper from the 501st. But he doesn't know him personally like we do, like Rex does. He has no real connection to him other than Fives being another Clone like him.

So when he hears that there is this erratic clone that tried to kill Palpatine and is now on the run, of course he would see Fives as a threat.

Remember that the Kaminoans covered the whole inhibitor chip thing by saying it was a behavioral regulator, that kept Clones from becoming aggressive and erratic. The Kaminoan even took the example of Tup's chip malfunction as proof that without the chip the clones turn irrational and unpredictable. This is the information the characters have. The ONLY ONES that know the truth are Palpatine, the Kaminoans and Fives.

So in Fox's eyes, Fives turned erratic because he also has a chip malfunction. He became irrational, unpredictable, erratic and has attempted to kill someone before. He might try to do so again and is now on the run. It's his duty as head of the Coruscant guard to find him and stop him before he hurts someone.

When he finds Fives, he has Anakin and Rex as hostages and is talking nonsense, acting erratic and paranoic. He could hurt Anakin or Rex, two very important and prominent figures in the GAR and their deaths could result in disadvantage against the Separatist forces. Fox cannot afford that. And yet he doesn't enter shooting, he points his gun at Fives and orders him to raise his hands and surrender. He gives Fives a chance to go peacefully, to de-escalate the situation. And when he sees that Fives looks at the blaster on his side he even yells at him to stop, he asks him not to do it, not to take the gun and make things worse. But Fives doesn't listen, he takes the gun yelling and Fox has to make a split-second decision.

In a moment like that, when you are a second away of a disaster, when you, your brothers or the hostages could get killed by the shot of a unhinged person. You don't get enough time to think.

Fox reacts and shoots Fives to stop him from harming others.

Sure, we could argue that Fox could have used stun instead, or that he could have shot Five's hand, anything to not kill him.

But we need to understand that in situations like that, when tensions are high, then it's life or death and you have to take a split-second decision, you don't usually have time to be rational.

Even the most trained people can't always take the most rational option, and often choose the best option they can.

Fox took the best option he could in that situation.

And I don't think that Thorn, Thire, Stone or any of the other Shock trooper Commanders would have done any different, any better.

They all would have been faced with the same dire situation, and they all would have had to take the split-second decision.

One could argue that the fact that Fox was not present in the circle of Coruscant guards taking off their helmets as they mourn Fives, could imply that he was indifferent to his death.

And maybe? However I don't think that's the case.

Remember that Fox tried to stop Fives, he tried to give him a chance to surrender and in the end he couldn't stop. He had to shoot a fellow clone. A clone whose face he sees in all his brothers, the companions he trained with, fought with, work with everyday. He did not wanted to kill Fives.

That has to be very haunting.

I like to believe that Fox is not the mourning circle, because he had to take a step back to come to terms to what he has done.

Fox has been proven to be an honorable man. How can he stand a join the mourning of a man he just killed? How can he see into Rex's eyes as he cries for the close brother he has lost? Maybe he felt like he had no right to be there.

Then again this is just my speculation, considering what little canon we have of Fox.

In general I don't think we should hate on Fox for Fives' death. Sure, Fives is easily my second favorite clone, way above Fox in my raitings, and I suffered a lot when he died. But I do think that the situation was way to out of hand and Fox did as best as he could to keep everyone safe.

Fives was not at fault either. Remember he was drugged, and he was feeling frustrated, paranoic, confused, he was panicking and not thinking clearly.

The only one at fault here is Palpatine and his schemes.

That said...

I'm not saying that you should stop portraying Fox as a cold and ruthless character.

Hell, I myself like to represent him as a more stoic and sarcastic person compared to his brothers and I've seen many different portrayals of this character, with many different personalities that I love!

You are free to a enjoy the fandom as you wish after all!

Just keep this post in mind and please don't hate on people who like Fox as a character.

We all deserve to enjoy Star Wars and it's wonderful characters that inspire us.

┕━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

Well, this has been my Rant! If you reached all the way down here thank you for reading ♥

And may the force be with you.

[vendetta-if]

Hi! Sorry if you've already answered this but what does each RO feel and think about MC path of either Justice or Revenge? (Heir path)

(Love to see what everyone else thinks as well)

I'm just curious to know what Rin truly thinks about MC going for revenge, because I feel like he's a bit reluctant? But also, an heir to a crime family going for justice? (Giving him over to the police after getting enough evidence to convict him) I can't really see him approve that, either.

I'm also curious of what their "preferred" heir MC is, Ruthless or Merciful, admired or feared etc.

Am definitely curious to know how that affects Ash as well. I love my little psycho MC (Definitely some Jinx vibes going on there) but then I get concerned and worried when I see Ash being like "Whoa, so cool! Never seen a body rain blood before, awesome! Whoo, murder! 🥳"

Then i'm like "Wait... No, this is bad Ash, BAD! Blood rain isn't awesome! It's horrifying! It's literally what happens in the APOCALYPSE! That's it, we're going to have a long talk when we get home about Wrong and Right!"

...then later when she gets her birthday present she'll giddily ask Luka if she can try torturing him too 😭

I feel so conflicted when Ash asks MC about what she will do with the killer... Then says what he wants, which is exactly the same, so I can't really tell him not to do the same... But it makes me so concerned every time, and guilty.

I don't want to bring my sweet, beloved firecracker down and even darker path than the one we're already on 😭

Ash and Rin prefer revenge to justice (letting the justice system do what it was supposed to do a long time ago). Probably because of the families and environment that they’re both raised and live in, they believe retaliation against such personal slight should be taken into their own hands.

However, whereas Ash’s revenge might be explosive and impulsive as they chase the quickest way to personally get their hands on the one who wronged them, Rin’s revenge is cold and calculating.

It’s full of reckoning, scheming, and pulling of strings behind the scenes and they’re content to let others to do the dirty work. They don’t really care about seeing the one who wronged them face-to-face and kill them with their own hands like Ash does.

That doesn’t make their revenge less personal though, and dare I say, sometimes, their revenge ends up being more drawn-out and torturous for the poor schmuck. The true definition of “revenge is a dish best served cold”.

And Rin does prefer Ruthless MC in the sense that they both have a more similar mindset. Of course, they’ll still love Merciful MC the same, but being with such kind MC makes them highly protective of them since they don’t want to see them get hurt or taken advantage of.

They’ll do whatever it takes to keep MC safe behind MC’s back, doing the necessary things that Merciful MC might not have the heart to do themself. Same thing with Ash as well, which is why in the Ash/MC/Rin poly, Ash and Rin will actually become really close and trusted confidantes of each other because they—almost all of the time—have the same mindset and overarching goal.

Santana and Skylar, of course, prefer justice and letting the right people dispense due punishment. Although, a more cynical Santana might not be too opposed to MC having revenge as well since they’ve seen firsthand how corrupt and sometimes incompetent the system is; they can’t really blame MC and the Morozovs to want to take matters into their own hands.

And as for your last sentence about Ash… 🥺 They’ll gladly walk with MC down a darker path. They actually feel they are already walking down that path a long time ago, especially since they accepted working as the Family’s enforcer… 😥

[jackwhiteprophetic]

Guys I was just thinking about how they should have to put the entire 118 into witness protection at some point. PLEASE.

- Buck and Eddie decide their new identities are married. No one asked them to do this, it actually makes it more complicated for the scheme but also no one is surprised.

- Chim works at a vet and he has a really grumpy old cat that is his enemy. Also he keeps trying to call 911 at every point because he misses Maddie.

- Hen is works at a computer company which she originally hated, but then Karen coded a way for them to communicate with an encrypted homemade software thing.

- Buck and Eddie work in an ice cream van. The local queer kids love to come by and talk to them and Buck and Eddie, still completely oblivious, just think they're being like really good allies.

- Bobby was originally a chef but then he started to become somewhat of a local celebrity and this threatened to blow his cover... (Also he does not attempt to contact Athena because she would NOT find it amusing).

Actually this whole ordeal only lasts a day. Because they all end up blowing their cover, because Buck and Eddie go tiktok viral for Eddie's rants about Hildy, the local 911 dispatch centre get really confused and keep sending police to the vet, Hen is fired too fast and tries to smuggle a computer with a strange virus out with her, and Bobby starts getting book deals. All in a day.

Ravi was fine. But he has to be removed with them.

So the 118 are just kept in a safe house for the foreseeable future, but it's okay because Maddie, Karen, Athena (and weirdly Chris) have managed to solve the crime and such (I'll leave the copaganda story to the writers), so they can all go home.

Buck and Eddie lovingly and quickly decide they 'can't be bothered' to get unmarried due to all the paperwork, and no one has the heart to tell them it wasn't real in the first place.

[hoseoksluna]

APPROACH | jjk

pairing: yandere!jungkook x strategy!oc (feat. police officer!taehyung; nari)

genre: angst

rating: 18+

summary: due to his reasons, jungkook loses the will to live only to come across an approach that changes his life.

word count: 8.1k

pin | playlist

warnings: dark content not to be romanticized — physical violence, mentions of cum eating, trauma, ptsd, depression, mention of rape, lack of hygiene, bullying.

FORMAL WARNING: jeon jungkook written in this work is a figment of my imagination and does not reflect the living person and his family.

luna’s note: it's finally here. i can't believe i haven't posted in a month. i missed you so much. this is the fourth chapter of strategy, the series will have five in total. i hope you enjoy, my loves. let me know what you think. mwah <3

past chapters: STRATEGY ; SCHEME ; RUSE ; masterlist

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster,

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

@rrosiitas @KookieNooki @cristinamajadera @Chaelvrx @mimikoba

@junecat18 @deepops79 @notsevenwithyou@futuristicenemychaos

@psychicjellyfishalpaca @Kooloveys

A silken wind breezes through, fluid with its brisk motive. Its weightless body penetrates the arcane, expansive silence hovering in the midst of the two people Jungkook cared about the most, drifting inside his skull through his nostrils. His muscles are so numb that he doesn’t realize he’s breathing in the fresh air until he unriddles the wind’s task. The fear’s teeth cease its gnawing at his soul, slinking out of his system with each swell of his lungs, and Jungkook senses himself to be getting rid of it in all entirety. The translucent helper sweeps his anxious thoughts about the little kitten clinging to his neck away, refreshing his mind enough to start thinking about how to protect her, and how to protect her fast. 

Everything about this moment is unpredictable. It reminds him of the times of when he was as little as the kitty, fearing his father’s hand, fearing his own childish logic, fearing his own shadow would get him in trouble. He feels as though he’s standing on the cusp of the portal that would bring him back to that world, belonging to his inner child, but something, as if by an invisible string, lacking any colors, prevents him from even taking a peek inside. 

He has to stay strong—an adult, a caretaker, a father. And he has to stay strong for Baby. Has to peel her off his neck and get her to a place of safety while he deals with the wrongdoing that affects her life as much as it affects him. He worries, however, that if he puts her down, he will lose her like he lost the two of his closest in one minute, that he won’t find her like he can’t find the warmth in the faces of those two he loved. 

There’s a challenge that darkens the rings around your irises, a pale petal’s flush coloring your cheeks from your restless sleep. For a split second, Jungkook wonders what this moment would’ve looked like, had you not carelessly dismissed him and taken that shower—had you instead shared the beauty of the newness with him by lazing around in your cold bed, but this is where a dead end splits his train of thought. Was it newness at all, the intercourse that happened? The blood and the tears, the gentleness and care he gave you, was it all real? Or was it a part of your plan, a strategy of some sort? 

His cock feels heavy in his pants, marred by your feminine sap that gives him the sense of utter filthiness. He came here to seek refuge, did he not? Cleanse himself of your stain, cleanse Baby off her old life, all caused by the block in his mind because of you. He came here out of the tenderness of his heart only to run into a bigger obstacle, wearing nothing but a flimsy robe and his life in your hand. 

Or so it seems. 

Jungkook doesn’t want it to be that way, and because of that reason he straightens his spine, his shoulders weightless due to the mercifulness of the spring wind. He shifts Baby in his hands, makes a bed for her on his palms, which he moves to his tailbone, hiding her from the ugliness upfront. 

Saliva gathers in his mouth, coaxing out his words. His need to stand up for himself, to bring an ivory tinge of clarity into this muddiness that you drew within this reality. And along with his saliva, bile rises in his esophagus, the inkling that his childhood is so close to him and yet so far away haunting him, prickling his skin. 

He hates this. 

His chin quivers, and he tightens his facial muscles in order to make it stop. To make the images of his father’s hand lifting in his direction die within this steady flow of the spring’s breath. He didn’t get in trouble. He didn’t do anything wrong. 

“I didn’t do any of those things,” he croaks out, his arms behind his back uncannily shaking. Baby squeaks, subduedly under the crooked roof of his fingers, but it feels as though she’s standing up for him, too, validating his words, supporting them, and it’s as overwhelming as it is unbelievable. 

Taehyung, the sculpture of eternal perturbation, cracks. He breaks out of the marble surface, his limbs moving and his features twisting. Anger seeps off of him, vividly and vigorously, and Jungkook knows that it’s boiling, about to splash him. 

But he doesn’t expect it to come so soon. 

In a blink, Taehyung leaves your aura of mischief, though his hands stay by his side. Jungkook is inclined to take a step back the more Taehyung draws close to him, the muscles on his shoulders tense and puffed up, resembling the ones on his friend’s body. They have more in common than they ever did before, and Taehyung has no idea. You made it so they both stand on the opposite side, and Jungkook hates you for it. 

And when Taehyung gets in his face, Jungkook realizes he never hated anything before. He always tolerated all the shit he’d been put through, accepting it, engraving it into his heart. The flesh never acted out, however. Meekness surrounded his soul for far too long, and something tells him that this is slowly but surely changing. 

A strange sensation constricts his breast. 

“Hyung,” he whispers, the name falling off his lips like his last weakness, but it doesn’t affect Taehyung in any way. Not even his following words. “She’s lying. Let me explain—”

“Explain what?” he spits in an undertone that reverberates through the room with its potency. Cold sweat runs down Jungkook’s spine, and he feels so defenseless that it’s drawing tears to his eyes. “You want to tell me how you fucked her? Shibal saekkiya, you want to provoke me enough to hit you? Hit my new junior before he starts his training next week? What’s that gonna look like?” 

Radio silence clutches Jungkook’s heart. The briskly wind quiets its song and his lungs take a minuscule breath, not nearly enough to support his system. And when he wants to take another one, he can’t. 

He can’t. 

Junior? 

Jungkook can’t breathe. 

And he can’t feel Taehyung’s long fingers gripping his shoulders. He can’t see him either, for a scenery of the dream that he abandoned in that bathroom along with his love sails across his sight. The police uniform, fitting his form just right. The lines of a phoenix upon his badge beneath a wreath of hibiscus, sitting rightfully on his breast. 

Rightfully? 

Nothing about that word feels honest. And what’s worse, as Jungkook’s lungs struggle to intake but a morsel of air, paradoxically the scent of that flower soaks his pores, filling his nostrils with its sweetened aroma. The tears escape, helplessly, despite the fact Jungkook is ashamed of them. 

The news hit him so drastically that he does the thing he was most afraid of—he puts Baby down, just to wipe his cheeks of the evidence of his weakness. And it’s not that he doesn’t care where she goes, it’s that he doesn’t have the capacity to focus on that right now. 

“You didn’t expect that, did you?” Taehyung taunts, withdrawing his hands from Jungkook’s body, taking a step back just to tilt his chin upward in a gesture of arrogance. “Imagine how I felt when I was so happy to bring the news to you last night, only to see your car at my girl’s house, only to find her running to me bleeding.” 

Something in Jungkook snaps. Perhaps it was due to the egocentric attitude, enfolding around him like his father’s tepid energy, or perhaps it was the mention of you that pumped fresh blood into his veins because despite his damp cheeks, the chain of feebleness that held him back this entire time is severed. 

And it’s that one look at you behind Taehyung’s shoulder that forces his body to act. All smug and delighted, with your arms crossed beneath your bare breasts, pleased with the aftermath of your evident strategy. Jungkook yearns with every particle of his being to ruin that. To erase that. To erase everything that’s been said and done in this room, within the bodies of those present. To take the sword and sit on the throne, overpower those who have overpowered him. 

And that’s why he fists Taehyung’s shirt. 

It takes the male by surprise. He softly grunts when Jungkook pushes him against the hard wood of the front door with all his strength, closing his eyes at the impact, the wind knocked out of him. And when he opens them and the glimmering morning light hits the doe nature of his pools, it’s Jungkook who’s now delighted by the speck of intimidation dotting those irises. Yes, that feels monumental—that feels right, that feels akin to the lines decorating his hands, telling his life story. 

This is his life. 

He should’ve been like this from the get go. With you, with Taehyung. Not being the partner walking beside you and him, but the boss who you and Taehyung walk by, compliant, under his thumb. He’s cognizant of something rising in him like a dense tide of a foreign essence that, after a bit of acknowledgement and the caress of a hand, feels like home. 

That gives him the faintest notion that it’s you and Taehyung who are in trouble now, that puts the words in his mouth to bring this unfair occurrence down once and for all.

“Do you honestly think that if I had raped her, she’d come to you and let you fuck her again?” Jungkook asks, his tone calm despite the tornado of quivering and swelling emotions within him. Then, to back up his claim, the memories of all the girls he had saved like ghosts line his vision, one by one, translucent little fairies coming to help him. “Are you that fucking dumb? Do you not remember what happened to the girls you saw me take care of? How they wouldn’t let me touch them even if I did it to pick them off the ground?” 

The conversation between the males is interrupted by a panicky female voice. A little bitch who has seen that there’s a crack in her pottery. 

“I-I—” you begin, running on empty to defend your call out, and Jungkook smirks at how pitiful you sound. “I needed him—”

Jungkook curtly shakes his head. Intervenes your pathetic little monologue that leads nowhere, just like he shall intervene your little meaningless existence. His own strategy forms in his brain as he tells you: “Shut the fuck up.” 

Taehyung blinks, but his eyes aren’t present. His eyes aren’t present when his arm swiftly lifts and his fist collides with Jungkook’s cheek, making him double over from the harsh, unexpected contact. That side of his face buzzes with an anguish he has experienced before and intimately so, the familiar taste of metal suffusing his mouth. His mind spins, the pressure of his childhood trauma consuming him from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, and Jungkook doesn’t know what to do. 

Like Taehyung, he freezes in time. Freezes in his trauma. 

Watches as his once so-called friend turns to you with a hunched, weary back. As those deadened eyes glide to yours. As you lessen in your stance, very much aware of how drastically your strategy backfired because something is seriously wrong. 

Jungkook watches as Taehyung asks you the most important question of this whole moment. 

“Is it true?” 

Your hands tremble, seemingly delicate upon first sight but poisonous in nature. The gun you’re still gripping rattles in a way that makes his teeth hurt, and your transparent fear should please him, but he no longer feels anything. Not when a hand has been lifted at him again, as if he were a little boy all over again. 

You stammer, trying to find your words, but Taehyung gazes at the weapon with a certain disapproval, halting your vocal pitifulness. 

“Why are you playing with that? Have you lost your mind?” he questions, his words firm enough to still your trembling, and like a deer in the headlights you look up at him, silent, exposed, embarrassed. “Do you think this is a toy? Do you think I am a toy?” 

Your tremble hangs over your chin, your eyes widening at the call-out. And for the briefest moment, Jungkook gets the impression that Taehyung is on his side. And it breaks the stony flesh off of his own, gives strength to his limbs, gives them the order to walk forward and lift his arm to Taehyung’s shoulder. 

His friend, his only companion—

Taehyung turns around, but Jungkook is not met with the warmth of his friend. 

He’s met with the sting of the gun, pressed against the center of his chest. 

“Don’t touch me,” he mutters, putting emphasis on the first word, and Jungkook’s eyes fill with a heavy, painful rush of tears. Abandoned, he is again. Alone, he shall be again. He doesn’t feel anything but that burning sensation over his eyes and Taehyung is but a hazy smudge before him, but he hears his words loud and clear, echoing in his headspace and around the place where his heart once was. “You’re gone. I don’t know you and I don’t ever want to see you again.” 

The gun moves from his chest, and Taehyung points it somewhere below at his feet. 

“Take the damn cat and leave.” 

Jungkook looks down. A soft orange smudge clings to his sneaker, oscillating, shivering. 

Baby never left him. 

The air outside is anything but at ease. The spring’s breath is fidgety, nervous to dry the tears spurting down onto Jungkook’s cheeks in troubled rivulets. His hands mimic its mood when he rummages in his pockets to find his only salvation. The rattling of the cigarettes inside the rectangle of his pack reminds him of the sound that made his teeth hurt hardly a while ago, and another set of tears advance on, its riverbeds splitting, creating pathways that reach the poor kitty finding its long lost comfort on his neck. 

How scared she must’ve been, being stuck in a foreign place charged with such violence for an extended period of time. It brings back the memory of how unwilling she was to leave his apartment, and Jungkook now figures that it was an omen. An omen he should’ve taken into account, regarded with much more importance than he did. 

He regrets it. He regrets… everything. 

The ash in his mouth returns, or maybe it’s just the taste of his cigarette. Jungkook takes a large puff until his lungs ache and then he exhales out the smoke into the cloudy canopy above. His ill-temper at the fate of his life, at the cosmos and the hiding stars is soft and muted, but it is there and he hopes that he poisons them all by the only instrument of death he ever owned, fragrant with the wholeness of his rotting self. 

His heart is broken. And crestfallen, he walks aimlessly. With Baby on his shoulder, the murmur of her snores calming his nervous system. With his thoughts running laps in his mind at full speed, clashing with the epitome of placidity resting on him, the smoke wafting from his mouth the connecting link that enables it to work. Not thoughts, not exactly, but rather images. Images of what you’ve done, images of what he’s done to you. The light and the dark, the only one that exists. The good and the bad—Jungkook wonders why there’s never been a golden mean between that. Why he stepped from one extreme to another without an ounce of mercy. Without an ounce of love, of kindness.

The night falls quickly, and Jungkook, too, falls quickly for his fantasies, in which you’re the innocent reader he liked so much in the library, your mind free from your egomaniacal schemes. A virgin unknown of life, of the male body and what it can bring to the unspoilt female one. The newness, the sweetness—yes, Jungkook pretends you didn’t steal his life, steal his friend, steal his own kindness and his heart while he ignores that all too familiar ache in his breast, which whispers to him that his pictures are lies.

Lies, lies, lies.

Brought back to his truthful surroundings, Jungkook is certain that it were her snores that led his feet to a no-name bathhouse, perched on the top of a duskily pink cliff, because he’s never been here before. The joint is small, a cube of a glossy onyx pigment with a window to the far right, dark and unlit, with an equally miniscule warm candlelight somewhere inside. No one seems to be present and the spot alone provides him with no feelings whatsoever, not even a faint sense of relief that he might possibly wash you off his body at last, but when Jungkook walks closer, he perceives that someone is really there.

A girl, with starless wine hair, napping.

Her spine is arched over the taupe wooden table, her scrunched cheek resting on the rough paper of a… sketchbook? Journal? There aren’t any drawings or words eternalized on the page, only the texture of her skin as she rests against it, a pair of black-rimmed glasses crooked on the bridge of her nose. Only the wavy cascade of her dimly bloodied hair, which oddly stirs something in the center of his chest. Her full mouth is parted, a steady rhythm of respiration drifting out, mingling with the evening wind meeting her, checking on her. The shadows from the room create bulbs of patterns on her smooth and serene face, and upon realizing that Jungkook can see those, his breast trembles before it is cut through as if with a sharp blade. 

He winces without meaning to, the razor-edged sensation growing bigger the more he inhales, and the noise travels to Baby’s sensitive ears, startling her from her deep slumber. He fails to understand why he’s reacting like that when he struggles to catch up with those comatose emotions, as if they were playing tag with him, having tapped him briefly before running off. He furrows his brows, sliding a hand down Baby’s spine, but his seemingly new eye can’t help but notice the shaft of light glinting on the brightest rolls of her hair. His body tells him to leave now and leave fast at that and his feet nearly swivel, nearly taking him somewhere else, but the kitten’s sudden hushed mewls are carried towards this girl’s ear this time around and she starts, head lifting, dazy eyes searching for the source of that sound. 

And her brown eyes mercifully melt at the sight of the small animal squeaking at his neck. 

“Oh, kitty!” she exclaims, the small opening of the window muffling the value of her quite sleepy excitement. She smiles dopily, a twinkle settling upon her iris beyond her glasses, and she fixes them, moving them upwards, the same hands smoothing down her wine hair. 

Blood hair. The kind of color that would be the only vibrant hue in a chiaroscuro within a canvas. 

His heart, or something resembling it, stops at that thought. And while he is something akin to mesmerized, he is flooded with a century of past memories. 

He hasn’t painted anything in years. Hasn’t seen his dirty, dried brushes, his tempera. His easel is still broken in spirit, its wood having been burned such a long time ago. His father never liked his hobby growing up, found no point in it because in his opinion it would never make money, it would never make a good name for the Jeon dynasty. 

Jungkook quivers, overwhelmed, but the pull towards the color of her hair remains. Lingers. Sticks. Like Baby to his neck. 

His legs are weak as she speaks, having fully awakened from the haze of her nap. 

“Would you like to try out our services?” she asks, as if she didn’t nap at all, and it’s like the memories didn’t hit him at all, so abruptly forgotten by the effect of her soft, flowery tone. And while he so quickly admits the thought of her being pretty, he admits another one as well—he likes how unapologetic she is about her sleepiness and the fact that she napped. A stray wave of her hair that separates from the rest darts before her eyes as she reaches for a chapstick, which bears the same wine color, and Jungkook watches with some kind of foreign awe. Watches as she moistures and colors her puffy lips with that dark tinge. As she grasps a hair clip next, a golden butterfly, and pushes away the weight of that scarlet tide from her slender neck. 

The wind blows, and Jungkook hears violins in it. 

With a bated breath, he readies himself to respond, but a man enters the room. A man who forces her spine to straighten uncomfortably, who forces her head to twist in his direction using his presence, who breaks the sound of the violins in his ears and who pours sedateness into the air. 

He, too, tenses after her. 

“I’m off,” the man grumbles, taking a stack of papers from a rack behind her while making the rest of them collapse onto the floor. The noise from it is devastating, and he notices how her face falls, and he’s sure her sparkle dims. She faces her empty notebook, a small swell of fat rounding her chin in a way that softens Jungkook. The man opens a drawer beside her, sighs, and shuts it with a bang that causes her to jump. Her reactions are invisible to him, but Jungkook sees them. It angers him, speeding up the flow of his blood. “If the cash register is as empty tomorrow as it is now, I’ll deal with you accordingly. And if you so much as think about locking up, trust me you don’t. I told you to wear shorter tops—” 

Jungkook takes a large step forward, bringing himself into the light, making himself seen, putting his more relaxed Baby in his pocket. Little does he know that he won’t ever leave this spot of leniency. 

The man changes like a chameleon. 

Bows. Smiles. Bows again. Politely greets him. Encourages him to visit his bathhouse and spend the night there as it’s late, praising his services like the businessman he thinks he is.

Jungkook tries his hardest not to roll his eyes. Then, a scheme, a different kind, uncoils over his mind, a set of mellow lies gusting past his mouth. Immediate, fast, kind, unselfish. For her; for himself.

“Not too sure about that,” he says in connection to his money-hungry praise, not a hint of the lies evident in his speech. He cups Baby’s head to let her know he’s still with her in case she squeaks again. “I’ve heard terrible things about this bathhouse, but good things about her. I’d think twice before speaking to her like that.” 

He’s astonished by the words that came out of him, and they curve his mouth into a genuine smile. The first genuine, feel-good smile in a long while. The girl’s mouth cracks as well, but she keeps her head low, still facing her notebook, the corner of her eye crinkling. Jungkook imagines sketching those, giving life to them by gently and lightly shading them.

There’s a staccato of a flabbergasted silence before the man begins to stammer, his whole rounded face turning a bright shade of red, not like hers. Never hers. No one has ever bore a shade like hers, and he doesn’t want to believe that anyone would. For a reason that baffles him. 

Jungkook doesn’t stick around to hear him flesh out a sentence. Turning around, he merely hides in a shadow nearby, wanting to return to her more than to the bathhouse itself. A huge efflux of dopamine absorbs him, absorbs the events that have happened in Taehyung’s apartment, swallowing them and essentially erasing their effect from Jungkook’s body. The canvas of the heavens plucks the violet tingle of a hydrangea bush before him, smearing it on itself, and Jungkook consumes it while he gazes at it, infatuated with the tender, vibrating feelings in his body that are good in their core, with this shift in his life—stars blinking their eyes open, casting light on a dark period of his fate. He pats Baby’s head, takes her out of his pocket, makes her see the pretty sky, and then the revving of a car brings him back to the girl in the window. 

But she is as crestfallen as he was before he saw her, and the table before her is empty, void of her notebook. 

“You came back,” she says, but Jungkook doesn’t detect any excitement in her energy that had enlivened him. She peeks at him once before facing the table again. He buzzes, but he also laments her loss, a wish to rekindle it curling in his gut. Her eyes are missing their starlight, and Jungkook thinks that maybe, if he still remembers how, he can draw it back on. 

“Where’s your notebook?” Jungkook asks, his curiosity authentic and saddened by the fact she had to hide it away because of her manager. He’s glad that he came at the right time, that the man didn’t see her sleeping. He doesn’t want to imagine the kind of treatment she would’ve gotten, had Baby not woken her up. Once again, the memory of his relationship with his father rises, interlinking with the relationship she has with the man. 

She doesn’t respond, however. The corners of her mouth do, though. 

They lower, creating a wrinkle. The smallest swell of fat, the kind one can’t help but to touch. Jungkook understands more from that wordless response than any normal, non-scarred person would, and he tucks his lip behind his teeth, letting an interlude of a sympathetic silence pass through, before he asks her for the price of their services. A couple of thousand wons, cash only—Jungkook nods, solemnly. And when he pulls out all the banknotes he has in wallet, which is more than she asks of him, and refuses to take it back, the hue of her tone at last changes, and an opaque spark finds a way to her eyes. 

“You didn’t have to really,” she says, softly, after placing the money into the cash register, speaking of the way he stepped in. Turns her eyes to him and deepens the stare instantly, as if she were trying to read something from his own irises. “It doesn’t matter what he or anyone else says or does, life can always change on its own. Like, he can have a stroke tomorrow.” She chuckles, the display of her teeth weakening some part of him, which takes in her words, accepts them, believes them. “Or I can just get up and leave. Leave this city and never see him again. Nothing matters because life is flexible.” 

Life is flexible. What would’ve happened, had Jungkook simply left the apartment after that accusation shot him dead in the chest? It is but a faint memory now, which ripples in his mind, causing him to wonder whether he truly lived through it. Baffled, he is all over again—by her, by the power of her words, by their bones that click into his. He could’ve left, it was his decision and it wasn’t chained down by anything. He can do anything. He can ruin your life back, or he doesn’t have to do anything at all. How freeing that is, how liberating. 

Because she has opened his weakness, because he feels like it and is liberated to do so, he tells her: “I really needed to hear that.” 

She nods, coyly, and smiles, mouthends downturned, those little balls of fat seizing him again. “I’m glad. I needed to hear it once, too. By the way, where’s your kitten?” 

Jungkook looks down at Baby leaning out of his pocket, her elbow propped on edge, her tiny head tilted up, watching the moving colors of the sky between the blinking dots of light. He coos, softened to a putty by that sight, and he’s sorry to disrupt her drowsy stargazing. Carefully, he pulls her out of his pocket, holding her by the loose skin on the back of her neck and simultaneously supporting her butt with his other hand as he shows her to the girl in a kind of an awkward way. 

And it’s the girl in the window who squeals now, jumping onto her feet and propping her forearms on the wood attached to it. Her eyes melt into a creamy texture of chocolate tints, rounding, then shift up to his own, and Jungkook can vividly see the way the richness of the flavor brews in them. And it brews him, too, causing him to swelter under his clothes, causing him to want to risk his life and do stupid things—only because she laughs and makes fun of him for holding Baby the way he is. 

And he laughs in tandem with her, quietly, enjoying the tang of positiveness upon this flexible spring night. Decides to heighten her joy by placing Baby on the wood, by letting her pet her, by letting her get to know her. Decides to risk his life and do stupid things. 

Baby sniffs her hand. Jungkook notes the blackened stain of graphite or charcoal on the belly of her index finger and he watches, with his interest piqued and provoked, with his hands deep in his pockets, and the resemblance of his heart recklessly and prematurely on his sleeve, the way Baby examines that smell of that art tool on her fingertip as the rest of the girl’s body melts and focuses on her. Gone are the times when his hands used to be dirty just the same, but they can be brought back and Jungkook wants them to be brought back and he can bring them back. 

He spent the last months and weeks trying to be a provider for you while failing to be a provider for himself, failing to make his own dream of becoming a police officer true. How foolish of him, how foolish of him to depend on another person to fulfill his wishes. But it’s gone, is it not? In this moment while the stars and the heavens are watching, their stomachs full with his misery and foolishness. 

The times have changed. The times are a bystander now, and he’s the king of himself. 

The girl plays chase with Baby using her artistic finger, and Jungkook comprehends that Baby trusts her more than she trusted you. If he remembers correctly, Baby didn’t even come near you whereas with her, she senses some kind of goodness in her that doesn’t rouse fear in her. 

Tears well in Jungkook’s eyes, and suddenly he wants to know her name. The name of a girl Baby isn’t afraid of. 

And once he gathers the courage to ask her, the words are hurtled out of him at the same time hers are, overlapping each other in a way that incites a mutual laughter. He asks about her name while she asks for Baby’s.

Not his. A vein of feeble sadness streaks through him, the passionate kind, the fiery kind that longs for her to care about him more than his pet. 

“Nari,” she reveals, and the flesh in his breast pulses twice before it re-learns its old beating rhythm, its song coursing through the pathways of his veins, carrying the echoes of violins, the murmurings of hydrangeas and… lilies. The meaning of her name. 

Jungkook smiles, the same thread of coyness from her demeanor hanging loosely over his bones. “Nari, that’s a pretty name,” he says, catching a miniscule smile of her own as she continues to play with Baby, swirling her finger in her face, watching as her entire head moves with her movement. “Her name is Baby.” 

That breaks her attention linked to the kitten and she straightens, faces him with a parted mouth divulging her shock and her evident softness from that name. Jungkook’s smile deepens, finding pleasure in her pleasure and the way she seems to be affected by anything remotely cute. 

“Baby? Why Baby?” she questions, but he somehow knows, feels that her curiosity is benevolent and not coming from a place of judgement. He gets the impression that whenever she comes across something new and something she hasn't touched, smelled or heard, she yearns and willfully demands to know the ins and the outs of that thing, like a child becoming aware of the world around her. 

He likes it, but the matter of her name is a sensitive one, and telling her would mean unlocking a certain drawer in him that he doesn’t want opened right now. He doesn’t want to search for the key, get hit with the dust and familiarize himself with the pain all over again. And from the encounter he has with you so far, he’s been taught that he doesn’t owe anyone anything. 

And just like you, he dwells in a brief silence, refusing to respond. Steps closer towards the window. Pulls one hand out of his pocket, the one rounded out from Baby’s body, and he caresses the lower part of her spine, patting her bum. Nari observes him, thoughtfully, and he finds that he likes that as well, a coat of delight scattering bumps across his skin beneath his jumper. 

“And yours?” she questions again, her voice sultrier, and the fire in him gains intensity. He feels like a fragment of a child himself, getting what he so brattily longed for. His cheek muscles hurt from the depth of his smile, but he can’t fight it and neither does he want to. 

What he wants is to reciprocate the goodness, and he can and he shall. 

And it’s smooth sailing, him grabbing Baby by her front legs and lifting her onto her back legs, using them as arms to point at himself. “My Appa’s name is Jungkook,” he speaks for her in the most girlish tone he can muster, and then he gently moves Baby’s body from side to side in a little dance. “Yay!” 

It’s smooth sailing, making Nari laugh, drawing on the sparkle onto the top edge of her irises. It’s smooth sailing because a new cosmos has been created in the chemistry between him and her, a cosmos that has no sovereignty, no say in his life, nothing utterly unsafe. A cosmos that craves to extend past this window, and does—because when he settles in a cubicle with Baby, Nari follows him and crouches by him, wisps of her hair framing her tense face. 

“Here.” 

Places a banana milk and a snack into his hand that she isn’t afraid to grasp, a butter waffle that he hasn’t eaten in decades. And it alone would’ve made him cry, had she not stated her following decision.

“I don’t have any cat food, but I’m gonna go get some. You can take a shower in the meantime. The stalls are right there in that corridor.” 

She’s gone in the next second, before Jungkook can get any word out, before he can look at the place she pointed at. But just as it is intuitive for her to feed them, it is as intuitive for him to do as she says, picking up Baby into his arms and letting his feet take him to the thing that started this all. 

Her effervescence leaves him as soon as he moves the curtain of the shower stall to the side and glimpses at the white tiles. 

Dread. Absolute fucking dread. 

Like a snake, with the slightest touch, you crawl underneath his skin, taking your sweet little time. The memories of your tongue, of the lack of eye contact as you utterly buried yourself in the adrenaline of your ambition and left him bereft of any piece of human kindness. And how you swung your legs and got up to cleanse yourself off of him and every morsel of his being that he had given you. 

Jungkook’s chin quivers, the dread sinking low somewhere in his chest, and his stomach grumbles. 

He’s hungry. Hungry for comfort. Hungry for consolation. Hungry for any type of relief that would extend its hand and snatch away that feeling of dread and those memories of you and what you’ve done, which he thought were erased. He’s hungry more for that than for food. 

He looks down at Baby, the only soul present. Her eyelids are lowered, her minuscule face leaning against the bellies of his fingertips. He wishes she knew what he felt; he wishes that she would understand him like she did when he found her, rise from her sleepiness and talk to him. It wouldn’t even have to be in a human language—any would do, any he would learn just to have a safe being to talk to. 

His mind flies to Nari, and he wonders if she is a being of ultimate safety—the girl who, despite knowing him for less than a day, helped him more than you ever did and who didn’t hesitate to bring him a snack and go buy food for his kitten. 

Can she be trusted? Can she be someone who can help him? 

That thought grows a pair of lightweight wings, its velvety, feathery membrane fluttering his brain cells. Flies further, flies deeper—into the bottom of his soul, where his darkness resides with gaping eyes and parched throat, seeking to be fed. 

The feathers as they flit make a loud noise in the overgrown well inside him. 

Can she help him emotionally, and can she eventually help him with his scheme? That is, if he decides to ruin your life in reciprocation. 

Pondering it, he feels the edges of the wings on the place where his heart used to be. Somehow, he laments the absence of it, of the softness of the bunny who just wanted to be loved and to love back at the right time. But the velvety sensation feels pleasant, feels sort of mollifying if he focuses on it a bit more, and he doesn’t know how he does it—place Baby down and take off his clothes, lift his foot over the threshold of the epitome of dread and pull the curtains shut. He doesn’t know how he does it, but he’s aware that it’s possible because he sees the image of Nari being his partner. Of Nari using her kindness and her nonchalance towards you. He turns on the water, but he doesn’t mind the immediate coldness. It feels fresh, it feels real. It feels like the essence of Nari, and because of that he dips his head under the stream—because if he is to go on with the scheme, he has to get clean. 

His tears are hidden by that energetic waterfall, camouflaged, unfelt. The steady, unyielding pain in the center of his chest is real, but the tears aren’t, not in this moment. His limbs are elastic, boneless, but they’re real as well, they’re real as he lathers his body in an apple-scented foam. They quiver like his chin when he grasps his flaccid cock and pales the colors staining it, burdening it. How different this second would be, if you had treated him nicely. He’d still be in your bed, giving you everything you ever wanted, his attachment tendencies loose and needy. 

But, no. You don’t deserve it. You deserve a catastrophe, you deserve a ruination, a death to your perversity, and as another teardrop falls onto the last dollop of your blood mixed with your juices that he cleanses away, Jungkook allows himself to be rinsed. 

Scratches his scalp when he washes his hair because he hates his life, hates the lack of serendipity that would scatter it with twinkles of joy and serenity. But that, too, gets rinsed away soon enough. 

Jungkook stands underneath the stream for longer than he should. 

Weeping, simmering with so many emotions that are numb on the surface but dynamic in their core. Thick cobwebs of darkness push at the corners of his eyes, scaring him, as he stands there absolutely helpless and in need of being saved. 

But no one is coming, and Jungkook waits long enough to be assured of that. 

He kneels at the tiles, sweeps back the shower curtain, grabs Baby and places her on the raised step. She awakens, softly, but doesn’t complain. Squints at him, yawns silently. Jungkook cups a small body of water and gently pours it over her body, afraid to use the ordinary bar of soap available in case it would do her harm. Washes her like that, rubbing in the water into her fur, washes away her old life to welcome in the new one. 

With him as her Appa. 

He kisses her forehead once he’s done. Rubs in his love, too, his tears rushing to his waterline again. He will protect her with everything in him, take care of her kindly, be there when she grows, be there whenever she needs him. 

Even if no one will ever do that for him. 

“Appa loves you, Baby,” he whispers, saying her name as well as the pet name. “Appa will make a good life for us.” 

And he means it, even if he’s not too sure how he will do it. 

Nori is waiting for him by the cubicle. 

She’s sitting on her folded legs, absentminded and focused on something beyond his view. Her back faces him, and Jungkook notices how it’s partly bare, the fabric of a top she wasn’t wearing before exposing the prominent muscles on the center of her back by how low it’s cut. When he first saw her, she was wearing an oversized crewneck that hid her skin, and the sight of it in its full glory heightens the feeling he’s absorbed with. 

Freshness. Lightness. Well-being. 

The elements that make living a life bearable. 

He’s tentative about touching her to make her aware of his presence so she doesn’t startle. But he worries about startling her if he touches her. He would depend on Baby to make her little sound, but she’s sunk back into her sleepiness, rendering her out of this reality, and it would break his heart to bring her back. She’s clean and damp, resting in the film of her dreams, he couldn’t do that to her. He could say something to Nari, as anyone probably would in this situation, but he blanks out at what he could possibly say, so he just walks forward to her, with cold but sweaty hands and his nervous system slightly in shambles. 

Even more so when gets near enough to peek over her shoulder and sees what she’s doing to pass the time. 

Two cans of food are positioned before her, one crookedly leaning over the other. The fluorescent light from the cubicle hits it just right, making it the perfect still life to practice sketching on. But what she’s creating on the brown piece of paper laid on her thigh is anything but a practice sketch. And the still life is anything but still. 

It’s vivid, and this time it’s Jungkook who melts. 

She’s holding three pencils in one hand, her bottom lip drawn beneath her teeth. It’s been a long time since he’s held them in the very same way, and it softens him. It softens him to observe as the thin strands of her hair, fallen stray from her butterfly clip, tickle her chin and she frustratedly blows them away, shading the shadow of the cans on the open space of the paper. 

Paper? No sketchbook? 

The former question he had asked her is plunged out of his mouth again, erratic.

“Where’s your sketchbook?” 

Nari startles, and that’s exactly what he didn’t want. She peeks at him, her lip back in place, reddened and puffy, rounding out from her parted mouth. Sets her stuff down, finished with her task, turning around. Jungkook settles next to her, leaning over to put Baby down on the thin comforter inside the cubicle. 

A brief interlude of silence passes before she licks her lips, readying herself to enter reality. 

“She’s sleeping? I got her food. She must be hungry,” she says, watching her, those eyes dissolving again, head tilting to the side as her sleepiness affects her just as much it affects him. 

For some reason, Jungkook doesn’t want to respect her refusal to talk about bad things. Not when the question has become fiery hot, his yearning to know the answer in tandem, diffusing into his softness. And because of that he moves the topic back to her—because he’d rather talk about her than about the fact that Baby has probably gone longer than a full day without food. 

“Why won’t you answer my question?” he starts, locking his arms around his knees, looking over his kneecaps before he gathers the courage to bore his eyes into her. As if his words were of intimate nature. 

She seems taken aback by his adamancy, circles of flush bleeding into her cheeks. Her twinkle expands over her eyes, glossing over them, giving them a wet look that pokes the inside of his throat, where a lump forms. He doesn’t know what it means, the reactions she causes to bloom in him. And in her presence, the reasons and the meanings don’t matter. 

In her presence, life and the time stops. 

“Because it sucks?” she retorts with a chuckle that doesn’t resemble an inch of humor, breaking her gaze and sliding her glasses further up. She busies her fingers with her shoelaces, avoiding his eyes. 

Pain, Jungkook recognizes. Pain that she isn’t ready to face. 

“So?” he encourages, flicking the overspilling loop of her shoelaces from her knuckle, coaxing out a breath of laughter that he wonders if is genuine. She looks at him after a half minute of silence, and he encourages her some more by twitching his brows upwards. 

She sighs, pointing her eyes to the ceiling. 

“You brought some luck my way. Someone has come to use the sauna,” she says, but Jungkook shakes his head, despite the fact her words give him a fuzzy feeling. Hard to believe someone like him would bring a speckle of luck her way. Or in anyone’s way. 

“Not what I asked.” 

She sighs again, louder this time. A noise of defeat, one of utmost benefit. 

“You’re terrible.” 

“That I am.” 

Her eyes widen at that, fleetingly. Jungkook smiles to himself, sensing the energy to be fluid with something easy, as if he’s drifted here with her before, within this chemistry that doesn’t ask anything from him. A chemistry that just exists, a spark to a fire that doesn’t burn that brightly, but burns either way. 

Languidly, softly. 

“Fine.” 

“Talk.” 

She purses her lips, cupping her glasses with her fingers like one would palm their face. His clavicles grumble with a tender laughter, which fades out as soon as she explains the omission of her sketchbook. 

“After you left, he noticed my sketchbook and he got so angry that he tore it up and threw it in the trash. Months of my work, gone just like that,” she reveals, her tone flat, carrying a layer of death that only a person who’s been hurt too many times can. 

Jungkook curls his fists, and his own anger is but a whisper under the layer of his skin. He doesn’t need courage for the following words that he says to her—they’re as natural as if they were talking about banalities. But he means them, and they mean a lot to him, and he doesn’t regret them. Not like he regrets his life pre-her. 

“I shouldn’t have left.” 

Short, but momentous, and she feels them, taking a hold of her bottom lip again as she meekly nods. And it is in that moment that she, in some invisible universe, watery and hazy, clutches him and doesn’t let him go. Only because she admitted her girlish neediness. 

And he proves it by giving her a promise. 

“I will get you a new one, but you will have to come to work tomorrow. Don’t flee the country.” 

It’s then that he hears her genuine laughter, which echoes with the delicate notes of violins. And she shouldn’t have—she shouldn’t have agreed by nodding her head and gripping his elbow because Jungkook shall use her as a pawn, shall return to his old ways like a dog returning to its vomit.

And it was never supposed to be that way. 

© 2025 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist

[fawnbong]

"Heart Eyes (😻)" - Ramshackle

Trio x Reader (separately)

Romantic and general stuff

Headcanons

---

Vinnie

A grand gift giver. Not necessarily in what she gifts, because she's a hobo and can only scrounge up so much, but she makes a big show of it, hiding it under layers of cloth upon a wooden "pedestal", she presents it with open arms and a loud "Taa-daaa!!" She's truly proud of herself for making do with what she has.

Casual and cool for you, often speaking on your behalf and can practically read your mind just through observing every shift in your facial expressions. She can tell, when you slightly furrow your brows and slowly your walking pace, that you're likely insanely uncomfortable, and your eyes darting around just means you're looking for a way out. She'll lazily wrap an arm around your shoulder and keep you upright, assuring you that she can easily take down any threats with her "massive guns" while showing off her biceps. It gets a laugh out of you and probably provides some temporary relief and that's all that matters.

Defensive and naturally protective over those she really cares for, but will not baby you or hold your hand the whole way. You don't know how to pick-pocket? Tough luck. She'll give you a few tips and wish you luck before throwing you to the wolves, but if you get caught, it's your burden to bear and you're getting yourself out of jail.

And she stands by that- until she's scheming ways to break you out, only slightly worried for your well-being. She was just saying that back there so you'd put yourself out there for once, have some confidence- not get yourself actually thrown into jail!

She's quick to bail you out via breaking and entering your cell and dragging you along before someone notices. The police force can be pretty lousy sometimes, so she tells you not to worry about being tracked down and imprisoned again. She's surprisingly decent at soothing any worries with crude, carefree laughter and a heavy-handed pat on the back.

As a partner, not much changes. It's like dating a best friend you occasionally kiss or hug and can hold at night, but that's about it. Sometimes feels more like a partnership, just with more feelings involved. Either way, they're very present and there, and she'll occasionally get all quiet to say some oddly sentimental piece before returning to whatever needs her attention.

Brash, but never unkind. Despite your mistakes, she's always there to help you up and urge you to try again. May joke that you're a dunce after a particularly silly slip up, but behind the jokes and playful banter is concern and care for your safety, she only wants you to be able to hold your own if needed.

Skipp

He's my favorite

A sweetheart through and through- friends or lovers he remains kind, doting, and very compassionate. He's loyal and good at making you laugh, effectively easing any worries in stressful situations.

He's also an experienced scrap, like the rest of the trio. He knows the town's layout fairly well and has which alleyways lead to where mapped out in his head, which comes in handy whenever they're being pursued by cops or an angry mob of people- a common occurrence.

Tender-hearted and sentimental by nature, he values handmade gifts and heartfelt gestures over anything. He's pretty resourceful and can probably make some sick arts and crafts out of stuff he found on the ground and a couple sticks. It's impressive. He also values quality time with the people he loves. Probably considers and time spent together quality time, even if it's spent in a jail cell or ducking behind trash cans.

Often gives out apple related nicknames and compliments. Quite fond of cheesy names and gestures, despite his friends' lengthy complaints.

Very affectionate and gives friendly cheek kisses to friends, although typically only if the mood calls for it (ie. Mourning Stone's "death" by being run over by a carriage). Despite that, plenty of physical displays of affection are quite foreign to him, and he isn't one to initiate anything farther than a hug.

Grateful for his close companions and isn't afraid to make it known. Always shares food, even if it's half a crumbling cookie . He'll break it apart, offer it to you with a bright smile, and it's almost impossible to say no.

It's hard to tick him off, for he's pretty forgiving and has the patience of a saint, but can clearly defend himself and others and is good at utilizing what he has, which is normally his mandolin. Typically a pacifist, although those persistent in harming or berating the innocent and his friends will be wallet-less by the end of the day and possibly receive a solid whack from his instrument.

He's pretty good at making his feelings known, not just through words but facial expressions and actions. If he likes you, he may as well gaze at you with literal hearts in his eyes and give you the moon. He brings you bits of food and pretty trinkets "just because", most likely just to see you smile. Also gushes over you in private or to the others. They likely play a part as wingmen, since he practically begs them for advice. In the end, he'll gather the nicest flowers he can find and make a pretty impressive arrangement out of dry leaves and slightly wilted flowers, as well as apples and any other in-season fruits he can find around to help convey his feelings.

Stone

THE nonchalant dreadhead.

Cannot and will not make any romantic feelings known unless you do it first. He's also a little dense when it comes to any flirting that isn't insanely forward. He probably thinks you're being weird or want his money, which he doesn't have, and only gives you a look in response. It's almost painful having a crush on him.

If he ever develops the tiniest of feelings for anyone, he tries to drink them away, drowning them in energy drinks to either make them go away or simply to cope with the realization. It only results in him spewing it all later by the side of some building, and they only worsen if you're there to for whatever reason offer a clean rag or pat his back. He'll surely cringe over it later.

Doesn't do much to "court" you. He may thrust a singular rose at you, but upon closer inspection every thorn has been picked off and it's still in solid condition. Maybe he puts more thought into it than he'd like to admit. Either way, it's sweet.

Generally very closed off. He likes his privacy and has plenty of things to hide, but it's not like he downright hates you just because he doesn't think sharing is caring. May feel a little regretful for pushing them away but drinks so much he forgets it within the next hour. Probably tells people to screw off on more than one occasion so that he can have some crying time alone in some empty alleyway (I just find the imagery really funny).

Under the gruff and angsty exterior, he's rather shy and sentimental and does value those around him. He has a harder time showing it, but may sit a few feet away in silence for a bit. He considers it an attempt at bonding. If you're looking for a specific item, he'll go out of his way to find it on his next walk and just leave it out for you to find, quietly aiding your search. Your response may pull a reluctant, fleeting smile from him.

Not very vulnerable, ever. It changes and improves with time but he's still real awkward about certain topics involving his past or any relations. He may build up some pretty tall walls but with enough time and trust, they're easy to break down. Best way to show you're actually a very chill and normal person is probably to let your guard down first- no need to repeatedly prove yourself to nobody, but rather be comfortable and don't be off-put by him. It's surprisingly reassuring to have someone look at him as less of a closed-off, moody teen, even if that's sorta what he is.

Shares his cigarettes with due time, wordlessly offering a hit or two whenever you're alone. He shares with the entire group but it's a good teller that he tolerates you.

Sentimental and therefore kinda affectionate when sober, which is almost never. He'll begrudgingly accept it with a flushed face but is pretty hesitant to return it. Not big on PDA, the most he'll do is grab your arm or an article of clothing if he thinks you need to run at any point. When asleep in the cramped tent, his hand may snake over yours or across your torso, though it's entirely unintentional and he will claim you're making it up if you ever mention such an act.

---

A/N: these are kinda just my interpretations of the characters, I have a hard time writing romance tho so it's probably quite off

Also couldn't think of a stupid fitting title so I works for now 💀

STOP TUMBLR KEEPS DELETING MY PROGRESS IM ACTUALLY GONNA CHOKE MYSELF OUT BRO STOP IVE REDONE THIS LIKE TJREE TIMES NOW IM GONNA CRASH OUT OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD