#we must bow down to the superior Italians

[ikenugs]

Can we just talk about this conversation me and my best friend had a few days ago at 4 am. I'm pretty sure we were on something man.

Our FBI Agent probably thinks we need to be thrown into an insane asylum. 😂

[mariesdeluluworld]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚: 𝘿𝙞𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝘼𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙮

London was busy—but Wizarding London was even worse. While the no-magics sometimes stared and looked at his scar, they were not like the wizards and witches of the magical world.

They bowed and shook Harry’s hand, claiming it was a joy to meet “The Boy Who Lived” and were offering him discounts and offers to their shops if he ever needed something. Children pointed and shoved when they saw him walking with his aunt and cousin, whispering and shouting his name.

“Harry Potter?”

“That’s the Harry Potter?”

“Harry Potter, look at his scar!!”

Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that. Fingers were pointed in his direction and he was glaring at every one of them. He wished he could’ve taken Kitty and maybe let him have a fingery snack or two.

All while this was going on, his aunt greeted each wizard with kindness and a polite smile. Something unlike his mother. His mother would’ve glared and spat in their faces while holding an aura of sophistication and superiority over them. His father would’ve stood in front of him, glaring at the wizard folk, calling them names in Italian.

“Harry, darling, this way,” Aunt Ophelia held Harry’s pale hand in her tanned one, leading him through the pub he rathered liked (the dark and damp aesthetic of the pub spoke to him and reminded him of home) out the back where a large and tall brick wall stood. Harry gave his aunt a curious look.

“Dearest Aunt, I don’t mean to be rude, but why are we here?” Ophelia giggled behind her hand and shook her head. “Watch my dear.” She whipped her wand and tapped the tip to certain bricks. Harry’s green eyes widened in shock as the wall shifted and opened, revealing a long cobblestone alley with shops lining both sides of the streets.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley, Harry dear,” Ophelia smirked at her nephew and he smirked back at her, pleased to see this magic. The three family members walked down the cobblestone pathway as Ophelia led them to a tall, marbled building.

“Gringotts, the wizarding bank,” whispered Beatrice. Her eyes held a mischievous glint as she studied Harry’s reaction to the building.

Aunt Ophelia stopped, turned her head, and smirked at Harry. Her eyes held a glint of excitement, and Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Nephew, Bea darling, why don’t you two go wait for me in Flourish and Blotts? That way, we can get your books first and get that out of the way, dear. Oh, and you’re welcome to look around, and if you see anything you’d like, let me know. I do love to spoil my family.” She smiled at Beatrice and Harry before she disappeared into the marble building.

“Come, Harry, I’ll show you the way. Do you like to read?” Beatrice slipped her hand into Harry’s cold porcelain one, tugging him in the direction of what he’d assumed was the store his aunt talked about. Grimacing at the touch of his cousin, he recoiled away from her and dusted his hand on his trousers.

“Yes, I do. Though I’d hardly think this bookstore will have the certain titles, I particularly enjoy.” He frowned, shaking his head. When he did read, he read books about war, certain weapons of different time periods, and medieval torture devices. Sometimes he picked up a fiction title at the local library here and there, but he never enjoyed all the happiness and love that oozed off the pages.

“Oh, that’s sad. But let’s hope they will, shall we?” Beatrice gave him a smile and together they weaved through the crowd. The cousins ignored the gasps and whispers that followed young Harry. Witches and Wizards spoke behind their hands, leaning into each other, trying to point out or make out his scar. It sent Harry on edge. He wished to scoop out their eyeballs and feed them to a dragon, yet his mother’s voice echoed in his head.

“Remember, dear spider, we do not commit murder in front of witnesses; that sets you up for failure. In order to get away with it, you must lure them to a secluded place where no one can hear or see them. Talk to your father about the murder of his dreadful cousin. That’s how we met, you know, He was still a suspect. But he was able to be cleared of all suspensions. Yes, your father was rather cleaver in his murder of his Cousin Alberto.”

Biting his cheek, Harry breathed deeply before he stuffed the instinct to kill deep down, locking it in its box. He threw away the key and made sure to lock the doors where he kept his urge.

He sighed and allowed Beatrice to pull him into the bookshop.

The shop was… cozy. It had bright colors; reds, oranges, yellows, deep purple armchairs, mahogany bookshelves, and a spiral staircase that led to a loft with a railing. Signs hung from the ceiling.

“Wizard Fiction,”

“Hogwarts Material,”

“Arcane & Unusual,”

“Little Wixen Fiction,”

“Muggle Works,”

“Creatures & More,”

“Witches Tea & Books Bookclub: this way,”

“Book signings every month!”

Young and old witches and wizards occupied the space, combing through the shelves, while others spoke in whispers. Somewhere in the back of the shop came a soft lull of music, and the sound of a fireplace crackled and popped, giving the shop an atmosphere.

Harry’s green eyes took in everything. He raised an eyebrow, quizzically, as his cousin pulled him towards the staircase.

“Up here is where our Hogwarts books are. They should have everything on our list. If not, we could go to Obscurus Books or Charlus’s Tomes & Scrolls, they’re second-hand bookstores.” Beatrice smiles softly. “Mum likes to go to them every now and then, she says buying second-hand books is like purchasing souls. Each book has a unique character—it’s been places, has seen things, has aged and withered and has seen life. It’s almost like a person or a soul.” Harry nods his head in understanding. He could see what his aunt meant. Souls were precious things. As a person ages and explores; they see the world and experience certain situations—they take in and remember. Learning from their lives and others.

“I quite agree, Beatrice,” Harry mutters to his cousin. Together, the cousins walked up the spiral staircase, pulling out their letters of acceptance from Hogwarts where their list of supplies was located.

“The first year section is right there Harry.” Beatrice pointed a finger towards the back wall. “The second year–” she pointed to a section near the first year. “Is right there. If you need help, just ask me, okay?” Harry nodded his head. He watched as his cousin's dark hair disappeared between the stacks before he turned his attention towards his list.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

When Harry received his letter of acceptance, it was the first time he realized that this was the first time his name did not contain his adopted surname. Addams was not attached to his biological surname of Potter. There was no indication that he was an Addams. He was reduced to the name of his birth. The name of his father and grandfather he never met. Though Harry knew of his adoption and his true family and their demise; he’d grown used to seeing his name with the addition of Addams. It was the name of the family that raised him, who helped him tie his bow tie, who showed him how to use his toy guillotine (without child-proof of course), who showed him the art of dueling, who showed him how to be an Addams. He was a Potter, but he was also an Addams. And seeing his name without it made something in him crack. What was it? He did not know. Only he hated seeing his name so bare.

So cold.

So unfeeling.

He disliked emotions but seeing his name disconnected from his beloved family he loved and would kill for made the viper in him uneasy.

He wanted to strike.

“Mother, come on, let's go!! I want to go see the latest broom!” A sickening high pitch voice interrupted young Harry’s thoughts, making the boy look up, a glare in his emerald green eyes. He watched as a boy with straw hair pulled his mother down the stairs, yelling all the way down about the sport of Quidditch.

Harry growled and rolled his eyes at the boy with no manners. How was it that mothers raised such unruly and loud children? His mother would be displeased. No. His Grandmama and Aunty Selma would have a right old fit, learning of the lack of manners. Thank goodness his dear Aunty was away in Italy, staying in one of the Addamses estates with her newest boyfriend. How the old bat could still hook up with men Harry had no clue. She was a scary woman who clearly stopped aging when she was in her late thirties (Harry once asked when his parents them visited for Yule and his Aunty told him she bathed in the blood of virgins and drank a concoction that stopped her body from aging—apparently it was an old ritual within the Addams family—and she simply gave him a smirk before she continued speaking with her sister, Aunt Greta Hyde.) and wore an eyepatch. She knew how to dance the mazurka since she was a toddler and took her first heart when she was barely Harry’s age. Yes, she was a very scary woman to cross.

Tearing his eyes away from the rude boy, Harry looked back at his letter and skimmed down to where his supplies were listed.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic

by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory

by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration

by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions

by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

by Quentin Trimble

Harry walked through the section, keeping an eye open for any of the titles on his letter. As he browsed, finding Magical Drafts and Potions and A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration, he found curious titles he’d thought were interesting. Picking up Hogwarts: A History, he skimmed through the book. Smiling to himself, he placed it onto his pile. He also grabbed a few other titles about the Wizarding World of Britain and its history. If he was to go to school here, he must adapt and be educated as much as possible. Smirking, he walked over to the fiction area of the first-year section. Perhaps he could buy a few wizarding novels for his sister? As long as it was dark as possible, of course. Dear Wednesday could not stand a happily ever-after.

As he thought about his little sister, Harry didn’t see where he was going until it was too late.

His shoe caught on something that made an “Ouch!” before he tumbled down to the floor. Books were scattered, his glasses tumbled off his face, and his chin made contact with the hardwood floors. He groaned, feeling the throbbing pain spread through his face.

“Oh, Merlin! I’m so sorry!” said a small, timid voice. Harry opened his eyes and blinked repeatedly. His vision was blurry, but what he could make out was a small figure picking up the books that fell from his arms. He could tell it was a girl as she continued to ramble her apologies and tried to tell Harry her story and as to why he couldn’t see her, all while she stacked up the books into a pile. Harry groaned and rubbed his head.

“Again, I’m so sorry. I thought I was out of the way, truly I did! I feel so terrible that I tripped you. Oh! Your glasses, right.” She scrambled over to where his glasses fell as Harry stood up, rubbing his chin. “Here you are, all fixed!” She practically shoved the frames into Harry’s hands. Harry placed them back on and his eyes adjusted to his prescription. Relieved that he could see once again, he narrowed his eyes at the girl standing before him.

Green met silver.

Her eyes were wide, full of fear and recognition. The silver pools flickered to the scar before flicking back to his narrowed eyes. She was scared, yet curious. He noticed her hands were twitching at her sides, her bottom lip was pulled in between her teeth, and loose strands of hair framed her face.

“I—I—I,” She tore her eyes away from Harry, focusing on her mary-jane shoes as if she found those more interesting than him. He glared.

“(Y/n!) let's go!” The girl turned her head towards the spiral staircase, obviously noting the urgency in the voice that called her name. She whimpered before looking back towards Harry. She took a deep breath.

“Again, I’m sorry. I …” She shook her head before striding to the staircase, leaving Harry to glare at the place where she once stood, stuttering and whimpering.

“You okay Harry?” Harry turned to look behind him. Beatrice walked up to him, carrying her own stack of books. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He picked up his pile of books and together they walked down the staircase, forgetting the book he wanted to pick up for Wednesday. As they walked up to the front desk, Aunt Ophelia walked in carrying a yellow pouch with embroidered daisies with what Harry assumed were her initials: O.B.H.

“Harry dear, did you find all your books you needed?” she asked sweetly. She still wore the obnoxious smile that Harry never saw on his own mother’s face. Reminding him once again, though they might look the same, they were not. He felt a stab in his heart.

“Yes, Aunt Ophelia.” She nodded her head, pleased, before she spoke with the witch behind the counter. It seemed the overweight witch knew who he was and quickly whispered frantically with his aunt until Ophelia gave her an extra galleon as a way to silence her about their visit to the shop.

“Alright dears, here ya go. Make sure you get yer wands!”

The family of three exited the shop and as they walked towards Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, Harry thought about the girl with silver eyes. Why was she scared? Why is it that everyone knows him or makes a fuss about his scar? Why was she scared?

Nothing made sense.

~~~~

Next Chapter

[kdramas-ruined-my-life]

Hiii! My prompt choice for your short hwanghans is "42. I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having" because I can imagine either one swooping in to save the other from a blind date gone wrong. Looking forward to the next installment of By Your Side!!

Oooh I love this prompt! Thank you so much for asking it! I hope you enjoy it! It can also be found on Ao3!!!

~

Inspector Han Yeo-Jin tapped out a pattern on the table as she tried to stop herself from rolling her eyes for the fourth time that evening.

Her mother had called her last week randomly as she was leaving work and had told her that she had arranged a blind date with the son of one of her friends. Yeo-Jin was reluctant as she told her mother yes. She was too busy to date, and besides, there were not a lot of men who were interested in dating female police officers.

“...And my company had been developing a new algorithm for analyzing both macro and microeconomics to come up with a...” explained her date as he droned on and on about something she couldn’t even remember ten seconds later.

From the few seconds that she had actually paid attention to the man, she had learned that he was a businessman, apparently someone VERY high up in the corporate world. It seemed like he was used to getting his way with the world. Men like him annoyed her. She had met plenty of them when she interrogated them for fraud, theft, and murder.

His appearance added to her overall dislike of the man. Sure he was attractive by societal standards, but it just didn’t appeal to her. His hair was short and slicked back. The large watch on his wrist and his Italian leather shoes screamed “look at me I have money.” It all reminded her of someone. Everyone’s favorite weasel, Seo Dong Jae.

She had been trying to find a way to get out of the dinner without making a scene. If it was a more casual restaurant, she would have simply stood up and left, but if she did that there, in such a nice restaurant, it would just draw attention.

As she tugged the hem of her black dress down for the fiftieth time that evening, she leaned back in her chair. She thought of any way that she could get out of this situation. Was there anyone who could help her?

Jang Geon mentioned that he was going camping with his family, there wasn’t really anyone she was close to at work, and while she was on better terms with Choi Bit, they weren’t on good enough terms for her to help Yeo-Jin.

It was just then that it struck her. Prosecutor Hwang. It was a stretch, but she remembered from their last text messages a couple of weeks ago that he was going to be in Seoul for some sort of gala for the prosecution. He said he didn’t want to attend, but some of his superiors wanted to send him as a representative for the Wonju firm.

The question was, would he help her? She knew that he didn’t like to get involved in social situations, but she thought he might do it for her. Plus, they hadn’t seen each other since they separated at the restaurant a couple of months ago.

Discreetly pulling out her phone from her purse and setting it in her lap where she could type under the table without her date noticing, she sent a quick text.

Hi Prosecutor Hwang! I know you’re super busy with the gala tonight, but is there any way that you could come to the restaurant that I am at? My mother set me up with a blind date and I feel like I am two seconds away from punching him. How do you feel about preventing me from harming a civilian?

She quickly sent the text and was about to turn her phone off when she pulled her messages back up and sent him an emoji of a cartoon cat winking.

Turning her screen off, Yeo-Jin once again brought her attention back to her date, trying to feign even a small of interest. She really needed Hwang Si-Mok to help her out. It was almost as if that thought had summoned him, the phone in her lap letting out a soft buzz. Glancing at her phone, she saw a single short text.

On my way.

~~~

It had been fifteen minutes and thirty-six seconds since she had received Si-Mok’s reply, and yes she was counting the seconds.

Fortunately, they had only just finished their appetizers and had not ordered the next course. She didn’t want to pay for an overpriced, extremely small portion of food if she was going to leave soon.

However, much to her dismay, the waiter set down two small menus in front of them. She was so close to not having to pay.

Grabbing the menu, Yeo-Jin saw that only four entrees were listed in the front. Flipping to the other side, she noticed that the back was blank. The prices were not even listed on the menu.

Mentally rolling her eyes at the insanity of such a menu, Yeo-Jin fingered the edge, planning to make sure that choosing one of those four entrees was going to be the hardest and longest task she had ever done.

It was then when she noticed a few women at the table beside them start whispering as they looked off in the direction behind Yeo-Jin’s chair. Their slightly wide eyes and opened mouths made it seem as if they had just spotted their favorite idol or drama star. Happy to have a distraction from her date, Yeo-Jin turned in her seat to look to where the women’s gazes were directed. Her eyes slightly widened, almost matching the looks that were on the other women’s faces.

None other than Prosecutor Hwang Si-Mom had entered the building and was walking her way. It was clear that the prosecutor had just come from somewhere fancy.

He had traded out his usual dark suit for a tailored back tux, the craftsmanship emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders. She was shocked to see that he wore a black bow tie. She had always seen him in a tie.

His eyes met hers from across the restaurant, a look of recognition appearing in his eyes as he took a step in her direction. It had to have only taken him a minute to walk over to where she sat, but it felt like much longer as she watched him move in almost slow motion. His steps were confident as he walked over, almost sauntering as he crossed the room. She watched as he brought a hand up to his hair, ruffling it a little, only heightening the greatness of his messy hair. As he approached the table, Yeo-Jin watched as he fiddled with his cufflinks, his eyes never leaving hers. The female inspector felt her heart skip a beat.

Aigoo, is this a runway?

“Inspector Han Yeo-Jin,” Prosecutor Hwang greeted as he gave a quick bow of his head in her direction, not bothering to even look at her date, “I need your assistance on a case immediately.”

Yeo-Jin slightly shook her head, desperate to shake her Si-Mok-filled thoughts from her head. Setting the menu down in front of her on the table, the female inspector stood up from her chair, grabbing her purse and standing beside Si-Mok.

Turning to her date she gave a simple apology for having to leave. When her date offered for them to continue their date, she politely declined and motioned at Si-Mok that she was ready to go.

Noticing that the prosecutor had motioned for her to go first, she stepped in front of him, the click of her heels on the floor confident and unwavering. At least it was until she felt a large hand on the small of her back, the warmth seeping through her dress. She looked to the side, bringing her eyes to his as the prosecutor ushered her out of the restaurant and into the cold night, his hand still not leaving her back.

As they neared his car, she turned to him, a warm smile on her face as she said, “Thank you for saving me.”

She watched as a warm smile appeared on his face in response as he responded, “Of course.”

She tried to hold back her smile as he opened the door for her to get into his car, his hand against the top of the doorframe as if to protect her from hitting her head. A quick glance into his side mirror proved she failed to hide it.

As he hopped in the car and turned it on, Yeo-Jin realized they didn’t have a destination to go to, the case Si-Mok had mentioned clearly simply an excuse. She was desperate to spend more time with him, to simply stay by his side. It had been so long.

“Would you...” Han Yeo-Jin began as his warm voice also spoke up.

“Do you want...”

Yeo-Jin motioned at him to speak first, a warm smile on her face.

“Do you what to get ramen or udon?” The prosecutor asked with an almost apprehensive look on his face, “The gala had horrible food and I have not had the chance to eat much today.”

Yeo-Jin smiled broadly at him as she lightly punched him on the arm, “Aigoo, we must have telepathy. I was just about to ask you that.”

Si-Mok responded with a small smile and she was once again struck by his beauty. Sitting beside him in his car was peaceful, the outside world a blur of neon lights and people talking.

It looked as if he had almost wanted to say something but Si-Mok turned his attention away from her as he pulled out of the parking spot and onto the road.

Yeo-Jin really wanted to know what he was about to say, but she knew he would tell her eventually. He always did.

Looking over at Si-Mok, she felt her lips quirk up into yet another smile since he had saved her from her horrible date.

“So, how was the gala?” Yeo-Jin asked as she leaned back in her seat, “Oh, and how’s Wonju? You’ll have to tell me all about it....”

It was a pleasant drive to the pop-up bar, their conversations as connected and friendly as always, and if Si-Mok had taken the longer route to get there, no one had commented on it.

[kpoptrashibnida]

Enough Pt. 6

A/N: Here it is finally! I hate the fact that it took me so long to update! It was a bit tricky to write without people snooping around. I am Mexican, so that means there is zero privacy in my home. Anyway, enough ranting. The other important characters have now been introduced in the story. It is going to get pretty interesting from now on. Well, I hope lol ;) Happy Reading!

The feeling in your chest the second you stepped out of the airplane was hard to describe. You felt nervous, excited, unsure, insecure, determined and hopeful. Your chest was humming with energy and it almost made you forget the pain you felt in your back from the long flight. After collecting your suitcase and going through customs, you stepped out into the arrivals area and looked around. You didn’t know what the person the company sent looked like, so you were hoping they’d have a sign. 

After scanning the crowd for a few seconds, you noticed a young man holding a tablet that had your last name on it. You smiled as you made your way to him, making eye contact and having him return your smile.

“Hi, I’m Mark Lee, I’m with Friends Corp. It’s nice to finally meet you Miss.” He says professionally, making you smile at his adorable boyish charm.

“NIce to meet you Mark.” You say politely, following the young man through the airport.

“Let me help you with that,” He motioned towards your suitcase. You felt a little embarrassed at having him take your suitcase, but you decided to concede. “Is this all you have?” He asked, feeling a little puzzled at the lack of suitcases.

“I just have the one.” You shrugged and laughed at the way he widened his eyes in shock.

“Wow, well you travel light!” He said and laughed a bit, not expecting someone who moved across the world for a whole year to have just one suitcase.

“So, Mark, what do you do for Friends Corp?” You asked as you buckle your seat belt in the nice black  SUV. 

“I work with Graphic Design, I’m one of the junior associates.” He stated, making his way out of the airport parking lot.

“Oh! I thought the company would send a driver, not someone from graphic design.” You felt a little guilty that they sent a junior associate to be your errand boy.

“Normally, yes. But Mr. Seo and Mr. Jung want to meet you for lunch so they can introduce themselves. If you’re not too tired, that is.” Mark said, looking at you from the rear view mirror. He was instructed to take you to lunch if you were up for it, and if you were too tired, he could take you to your apartment.  

“Oh! Well that’s fine! I am actually quite hungry. So who are Mr. Jung and Mr. Seo?” You questioned.

“Well Mr. Seo is the head of graphic design and Mr. Jung is the head of PR. Since you’re working closely with them, they want to meet you first to introduce themselves. Then Monday after work, they want to go to dinner with all departments working on the project.” Mark explained; you felt dizzy getting the information; you had just gotten to this country and there was an agenda already. You didn’t mind though, since being busy and keeping occupied was what you needed to forget everything you wanted to forget… Chanyeol being the main thing.

You pulled up at a fancy looking Italian restaurant and felt nervous all of a sudden. Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself a pep talk. 

You can do this. It’s a fresh start. You’re good at your job and that’s why you’re here. Make a good first impression, YOU. GOT. THIS.

You followed Mark through the restaurant to a back room, you assumed they had rented a private area in order to have a quiet place to talk and discuss any work related things. 

You were expecting Mr. Seo and Mr. Jung to be older men in their mid forties with a lot of experience- you were not expecting to find two men in their early to mid twenties that were extremely attractive.

Both of them stood up as you entered the room with Mark, bowing politely and pulling a chair out for you. You made eye contact with what you could only describe as the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. Your breath hitched in your throat the longer the stare continued, making it feel like the earth was slowly spinning. 

“So nice to finally meet you! We have been expecting you!” The other tall handsome man said, making you break the trance you were in.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr…” you trailed off, not sure if you missed his name or if he forgot to mention it,

“I’m Mr. Seo, but please call me Johnny. We are on the same team, so we can drop the formalities.” He said with a handsome smile, making you smile as well. You could tell the two of you were going to get along.

“I’m Mr. Jung, but you can call me-“

“His name is Jeff.” Johnny interrupted, making Mark hackle out a loud laugh while Mr. Jung just gave him a death glare.

“Please ignore him. My name is Jaehyun.” He said politely, his smile making the cutest dimples appear on his face, making you feel like you were dying a little.

You introduced yourself and everyone got settled, ready to order and get to know each other better. 

“So how long have you all been working for Friends Corp?” You questioned as you ate some of the deliciously addicting garlic bread. 

“I’ve been working for Friends Corp since they launched the texting app in 2011.” Jaehyun said, looking at you and smiling softly.

“Oh! For the Japanese launch?” You asked, surprised he’s been in the company for that long.

“Yes, that’s when I got recruited.” He said simply, moving his water out of the way so the waiter could place his food in front of him.

“How about you, Johnny?” You asked, looking away from Jaehyun, suddenly not being able to handle it. 

“I was hired in the same year, I was hired to help design the Friends characters.” He said as he started to twirl his pasta on his fork.

“That’s pretty awesome! I love the Friends characters. And you Mark?” You asked, looking at the adorable young man that was happily eating his food.

“I got hired in 2017, I’m pretty new, but I’ve learned a lot working under Johnny’s direction.” He said as he looked over at his senior happily.

“It’s Mr. Seo for you.” Johnny joked, making everyone laugh.

They asked you questions about your work history with Friends Corp and your position as marketing director. You tried to avoid looking over at Jaehyun too much because his face made you unusually uncomfortable. At one point, your eyes met for a brief second but he sent you the most beautiful smile you had ever seen and it made your heart stop in your chest.

‘Stop it, you literally came here to escape a bad romance and now you want to jump head first to the first gorgeous man that crosses your path?’  You chided, annoyed at the fact that you had a very strong attraction towards Jaehyun. 

After dinner, all three men decided that they were going to accompany you to your apartment. Mark had no choice, but Jaehyun and Johnny decided that they wanted to make sure you had everything that you needed and to make sure everything was working fine. Johnny decided to ride shot gun with Mark and Jaehyun sat in the back with you. To say that you were uncomfortable was an understatement. You had your body pressed up against the door of the SUV, as far away from Jaehyun as possible. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it because he had his legs spread out wide, his knee almost touching your leg. You were looking out the window, listening to the bantering conversation between the two men up front. You glanced sideways and made eye contact with the man that was currently making your heart pound. He gave you a small smile and you returned it, feeling your cheeks heat up. Was the heater on? It sure felt that way. Jaehyun looked forward and commented on the conversation between Mark and Johnny, giving you the opportunity to take a breather. You really hoped that you were almost at your apartment, the SUV feeling too small for whatever tension you were experiencing. 

Once you were finally parked in front of your apartment building, you had all three men trying to be the ones to take your one suitcase upstairs. You couldn’t help but laugh at their behavior, three grown men fighting over a suitcase. They finally decided that since Mark was your driver for the day, he would be the one to take your suitcase up to your apartment. After the short elevator ride, you walked into your new home for a year, taking in the big open floor plan of an apartment that felt too big for one person.

“Wow! Your apartment is so nice!” Johnny exclaimed, walking around your modern and minimalist-styled apartment. 

“Yeah! It makes my place look like a dump!” Mark whined cutely as he sat down on your black leather L-shaped couch. 

“Hey come on man, get up, that’s rude.” Jaehyun chastised the younger man for his lack of manners. 

Mark pouted cutely as he started to get up from the couch, embarrassed at being called out by his superior in front of other people.

“Oh it’s okay! I really don’t mind! You can sit Mark. Actually, you’re all welcome to sit, I’m being an extremely rude host.” You said sheepishly, realizing that the men were just standing around your living area.

“I mean, we sort of forced ourselves into your home.” Johnny joked as he sat down next to Mark on your couch, leaning back and making himself right at home.

“Do you guys want something to drink? I’m actually not sure what I have…. I’m probably going to have to go grocery shopping tomorrow…” You hoped you had at least what you needed for your first night in your new apartment.

“We are fine, no worries. We should actually stop being rude and let you rest. You must be tired from the flight and the time change. We will have other opportunities to get to know each other. Come on guys, let’s go.” Jaehyun said as he collected the other two men who seemed like they did not want to leave your couch. 

“I appreciate the help, so no worries.” You smiled at them, actually happy that you met some of your coworkers.

“Here is my business card. It would be good to have each other’s information, in case you need anything before Monday. And for work as well.” Jaehyun said, handing you a business card and glancing over at Mark and Johnny.

“Oh right!” Both men said in unison, scrambling to their feet and handed you their business card. You gave them yours as well and walked them to the door, thanking them for their time and company.

Once you were alone, the reality of everything hit you. You were in a new country, new work place and new people. Sighing heavily, you took your suitcase to your room and you almost squealed excitedly when you saw how big your room was. You eyed the big King size bed in the middle of the room, the fatigue of the flight finally settling on your eyelids.

‘Shower first.’ You thought, rolling your suitcase over to your closet so you could unpack what little you brought with you. You had a massive walk-in closet that looked pathetically bare even after you arranged your clothes and shoes. At least it was a good excuse to do some shopping once you felt you were all settled with work. You brought enough professional attire to hold you out for at least your first week at work. 

Stepping into the big walk in shower, you were excited to see you had a nice rainfall shower head. You let the warm water wash over your tired and sore muscles, stretching out your back to try and alleviate the tension you felt. You closed your eyes and let the steam around you take over your senses. You smiled a little as the memory of the three men you met invaded your mind. You were glad to have met them and see that they are very nice people and you would most likely work very well together. You tried to shake away the memory of Jahyun’s gorgeous smile and the way his dimples would appear if he smiled wide enough. You were here to focus on the job that Namjoon swore you were perfect for. You were not going to allow anything to distract you and lose your focus; you did not want to disappoint Namjoon.

Walking into your room in your pjs, you saw that you had a notification on your phone. Unlocking it you saw that it was from an unknown number; you opened up the message, confused as to who could have messaged you from an unregistered number.

Hey, it’s Jaehyun. I hope it’s not weird, but I just wanted you to know that if you need any help this weekend with anything, I can help you. I don’t have a car but an extra set of hands is always useful. Anyway, if you need any help with anything at all this weekend, don’t hesitate to ask me for help. Good night

You bit your lip excitedly as you read and re read his message. You knew he was just being friendly, but you could not help the way your heart thrummed excitedly in your chest. You knew you were entering a very dangerous area, but he seemed like such a nice and genuine guy, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

‘Not all guys are like Chanyeol’ You thought, looking at your phone intently. With a deep breath, you went into your contacts and looked up Chanyeol’s number. You opened up the information and hesitated over the button you wanted to press. You knew it was for the better and it was going to really help you forget him and everything he did to you. Exhaling the breath you didn’t know you were holding, you finally pressed the Block this Caller button. It was for the best, and it’s not like he was going to try and contact you anyway. With that feeling of finality in your chest, you plugged your phone and called it a night, the heaviness on your eyelids soon taking over.

***

Chanyeol did not know he was holding his breath the whole time he was waiting for the phone call that could potentially change his life. After finishing the song he was working on for a rookie artist, it seemed like the label he got signed with really liked Chanyeol’s sound. They asked him to send a demo of the songs he’s produced so they could listen to it.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but if all went well, he was most likely going to be a producer for a big company. Chanyeol decided that waiting around his apartment was not going to make the time go by any faster or settle his nerves, so he decided to walk to his favorite bakery for some breakfast.

After ordering and getting the cute barista’s number, he went to a table and waited for his food to be ready. He opened up Instagram and started to look through his feed, liking a few pictures here and there. The same cute barista brought his food over to his table and winked at him as she placed a free slice of pie on the table for him.

“On the house.” She said seductively, winking at Chanyeol as she walked back to her counter.

‘Free dessert and maybe something else if I’m really up for it.’ Chanyeol thought smugly as he ate his food. 

His phone rang suddenly, startling him a bit. He looked at the number and his eyes widened when he saw the name pop up. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he needed to take a deep breath to compose himself before he answered.

“Hello, this is Chanyeol.” He said in what he hoped was a calm and professional voice.

“Hello Mr. Park, this is Min Yoongi from ‘D-Day Records’. I am the head of the producer’s department. We listened to your demo, and I have got to say, we are extremely impressed with your talent and skill. We would love to have you on board with us as a new junior producer. What do you say?” 

Chanyeol was sure he knew how to speak and breathe, but nothing was coming out. His heart was beating wildly and he could not believe he just got offered a job as a producer with one of the biggest entertainment companies ever. 

Realizing he had not answered yet, he shook his head in order to think straight. “Yes, yes of course. It would be an honor.” 

“Great. Come by tomorrow at 10AM so we can go over your contract, salary and any other details. It’s a pleasure to have you on board Mr. Park.” Yoongi said before hanging up.

Chanyeol just sat there, staring at his phone, still not being able to process the news he just got. 

He quickly finished the last of his food and got up to make his way out of the bakery. He scrolled through his call log until he got to your phone number, pressing the call button excitedly. He did not know why, nor did he want to know, but when he thought of who to tell the exciting news to first, your face came to his mind. He furrowed his brows as the phone kept ringing and ringing, your voice mail not even picking up. He hung up and called again, confused as to why the same thing was happening. He hung up and decided to go to your place. He knew it was too early for you to be home, but he could not contain his excitement. 

Arriving at your apartment building, he knocked a couple times and waited to see if he heard any noise. After a few minutes, he decided to try your padlock combination. You didn’t know this, but he had your pass code memorized. He never used it because there was no need, but it was useful on a day like today. He punched in your code and was met with the noise that let him know it was an incorrect password. He tried again and the same error sound occurred. He was confused, had you changed your pass code recently? You obvious would not have told him about it, but he was a little bummed that he could not get into your apartment. He looked at his watch and saw that if he went over to your job right now, he could catch you right before your lunch hour started. He could probably treat you to lunch to celebrate his new job. 

Chanyeol got off the subway and tried not to run into anyone as he ran out of the subway station and towards the building you worked at. He felt excited and giddy at the thought of seeing you and telling you the exciting news. He walked in through the grand glass doors of the building and realized he had no idea which floor you worked at. He knew Friends Corp owned the whole building, so surely someone in reception would know where you worked.

“Hello, welcome to Friends Corp, how many I help you?” A young man whose ID badge said Jungkook greeted as Chanyeol approached the reception desk.

“Hey, I am looking for someone in the marketing department.” Chanyeol said, feeling a little uncomfortable at the fact that he just showed up unannounced at your job.

“Sure. Do you have an appointment?” Jungkook asked, typing something into the computer.

“No I don’t. Um she’s the head of marketing, I think.” Chanyeol said as he pulled up your contact on his phone to show the young man.

“Oh! Noona!” He said excitedly, which made Chanyeol lift an eyebrow questioningly. Noona?

“Are you guys close or something?” Chanyeol couldn’t help but ask, hating himself for it.

“Yeah you can say that…” The younger man trailed off, eyeing the taller man suspiciously. “Who are you?” He questioned.

Chanyeol huffed an irritated breath, who was this boy to question him. “I am… I am a friend, I guess.” Chanyeol said, unsure as to what to refer to himself as.

“Hmm, funny. Well, noona’s friend, she no longer works here.” He said with finality in his tone that did not sit well with Chanyeol. He was not done with this conversation and he was not going to be dismissed by some boy.

“Wait, she doesn’t work here anymore? Did she quit?” Chanyeol could not believe it, you really loved this job.

“No, she still works with Friends Corp, just not at this branch.” Jungkook said in a bored tone, not making eye contact with Chanyeol, typing away at his computer. 

“Well where does she work?” Chanyeol pressed, really irritated at the man-child’s attitude. What was he so overprotective for? Were the two of you really that close?

“Sorry sir, I cannot tell you that information. But if you really are noona’s friend, I am sure she can tell you. Have a wonderful day and thank you for visiting Friends Corp.” Jungkook said in a fake customer service voice, smirking smugly at the taller man as he got up from his chair and walked away with an empty coffee mug in hand.

Chanyeol stood there, dumbfounded. He could not believe the attitude this boy had with him, and  he could not process the fact that he did not know where you were. Why was he so worried? Why did he care so much? He took out his phone as he sat at a nearby park bench, calling your phone one  more time. It kept ringing and ringing, no voicemail or anything. Where could you be? He looked up Suho’s phone number, calling his last hope of someone that knew of your whereabouts.

“Hey man, whats up?” Suho said as he answered the call.

“Where is she?” Chanyeol bit out, suddenly aggravated that no one bothered to tell him where you were.

“What are you talking about?” Suho feigned ignorance, but Chanyeol saw right through that. 

“Don’t play games with me Suho, you know who I’m talking about. Where is she?” He said angrily, his temper flaring at his friend’s response. 

Suho sighed heavily, knowing that his friend was not going to be happy with his answer. “I’m sorry Yeol, but I can’t tell you that.” He said, holding his breath in anticipation for his friend’s blow up.

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t tell me that? Why not?” He interrogated

“Look, she told Mina that she didn’t want her or I to tell you where she moved to. Mina wants us to respect her wishes. She said, and I quote, ‘it’s not like he cares anyway.’ So, sorry man, I have to stick with what my wife says.” Suho informed him, hoping he would understand.

Chanyeol’s gut twisted uncomfortably, not knowing why hearing those words cut him deep. 

“Come on man, please help me out. Where is she?” Chanyeol pleaded, not knowing where the desperation was coming from.

“Look, if I tell you, you have to promise you will not do anything about it or tell anyone I told you.” 

“I swear.” He promised, his heart thrumming in anticipation.

“She moved to the United States. But that’s all I can tell you. She is going to be gone for a year.” Suho said, really hoping Chanyeol was going to keep his promise.

Chanyeol felt his stomach drop, the news making feel winded. You left to the United States… the boy from your work said you transferred to a different branch. 

“Okay, thanks man. I’ll see you around.” He said before hanging up.

He slumped his shoulders in defeat, not believing that you were gone. Could you have changed your number? Is that why you didn’t answer? Chanyeol knew that he had not always been the nicest or the most caring with you, but he also didn’t think he was super horrible either. 

He got up and made his way to his apartment, the joy he had felt earlier now basically gone. 

He needed to know where you lived, and he was not going to stop until he found out. Chanyeol knew he needed to sort out his feelings and identify what was going on with him. He had enough of running from his emotions, he was done.

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[samcroslut]

The Devil's Wife - Part 3 (Lucifer Morningstar Series)

a/n: Hay guys! So the third part, I decided, was going to be a sad one but there is still a tad bit of a cliffhanger. Let me know what y’all think happened to Esther when she was gone and also what you lot think of the series! Have a great day.

Tag list:

@badwolf-in-the-impala @hismissharley13 @cole-winchester @lovereyes22 @rosepetalsandfandoms @anne-kollay @spnfan-96 @squirreln-moose @thatravenclaw04

If you want to be added to my taglist, just send me an ask!

It had been a few days since Lucifer and you had talked about it all: the things you had missed, the notoriety, even his day job (including Chloe). You were happy that he had found a friend and something to fill his spare time with but you couldn’t help but feel immensely jealous of this Decker girl. She had filled your job, even though she never filled your place he said, and been there for him when you were unable. You were yet to meet her but you also knew that he hadn’t mentioned that he had a wife and hadn’t spoke of his previous life, other than the obvious and the fact that she wouldn’t believe that he was actually the devil. To be fair on her, which was showing to be troublesome, you understood her reluctance. A good-looking guy in Prada and Italian leather who owns a popular club claims to be the devil. Any civilian would call them insane, and she did. And, unfortunately, for you that peaked his interest; following her around like a puppy dog.Stepping out of the car, Lucifer closing the door behind you before taking your arm in his and walking up to the house. After knocking and waiting a few short moments, a little girl answered. Her black braids bouncing as she bolted for him, wrapping her tiny arms around his legs and letting out an excited trill.

“Lucifer!” She was adorable, her eyes looking up at his heightened frame. “And you brought someone..” She was sceptical at first, like anyone would. You bent down, in a squatting stance, and smiled, your leather trousers squeaking under the pressure as you introduced yourself.

“Hello, sweetie. I’m Esther, and you would be?” Your voice was calm and inviting.“Beatrice, but people call me Trixie.” She looked proud as she replied, standing up straight and smiling her toothy grin.“Well do they now. Can I call you that?”“I suppose so..” Her retort made you laugh. She was a smart little thing, you’d give her that. Standing up to your full height next to your husband, his hand coiling around your waist in a protective manner. Glancing forward, you noticed a woman new standing in the archway.“Go inside and help set up Trixie,” the woman waited until the girl had disappear to continue, “Lucifer, you brought..entertainment. I’d prefer it if you didn’t bring her when Trixie-” You stopped her before she went any further. Her words offending on a whole new scale. 

“Excuse you? Would you like to try that again because this will entertaining for me if-” It was your turn to get interrupted, your voice threatening and crescendoing into a harsh hiss. Lucifer had missed your short temper and had to let out a chuckle as he stopped the, what would be, growing argument, using his spare hand to create a barrier between the two of you.“Ladies. Ladies..I usually enjoy two women going at it but this surely isn’t the place,” he looked between you to and smiled when there was no escalation.“Now that’s better, a bit of civility. Anyway, detective, this is Esther Morningstar: my wife.” Her reaction was priceless and for a split second you wished that you could frame it and hang it on the wall in the sitting room. The jealousy lessened as you smirked. His wife. His. “I didn’t know you had a wife. You’ve never mentioned her before.” The tone of her voice immediately gave away her jealousy, her eyes scanning you up and down but you just smirked.His hand rubbed soothingly around your back. You leaned into his touch and took his hand in yours.

“Yes, well, we have been apart for a while but she finally came back for me.” Chloe just nodded and stepped aside, allowing you in.As the night progressed, dinner was served. Everyone gathered around the homely table and, as you became acquainted with the surrounds, you found it extremely…. cosy. Photo frames lined the walls and you found yourself becoming more calm about the whole situation. You intended to come as a show of dominance and to, hopefully, understand the mind of the woman that has replaced your space in your husband's life. However, now? You still wanted to exert your superiority but, at this point, you found it amusing to watch her fight for Lucifer’s attention and affection. The way that she placed his meal down first just to make sure that she could hold the action a little longer than necessary and how she would glare a little harder when he done something, but you knew that she was just trying to memorise every detail that made his face. The food was, surprisingly, appetising and the conversation flowed. Emotion started to come loose when Trixie was sent to bed. Chloe was clearing up the table and you made your way over to her, picking up dishes and making polite conversation. It never was your goal to cause any drama or trouble, however, you weren’t afraid to say what needed to be said if it came to it. 

“So I didn’t know that Lucifer had a wife. How long have you two..?” She trailed off her question, not really sure of how to phrase it. You understood. “Well the start of time. Literally.” You tried to joke, knowing that she probably wouldn’t laugh but you wanted to put things into perspective for her. The both of you walked towards the kitchen, sorting out the mess. You began to dry the dishes as she washed them. It was quiet.

“I appreciate you looking out for him, you know? I want to thank you for that. We both know the amount of trouble he can get himself into with that mouth of his.” She did laugh at that. “Yeah, Lucifer is something else.” She scrubbed at a cup before continuing, “ Why weren’t you around? Not meaning that harshly but if he’s your husband…” You noted the tendency she had for trailing off questions around you.

 “No, it’s alright. There was some family drama and it’s an extremely long story to tell. One i don’t think should be told over washing up but, rumours were spread and things were believed. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” Silence fell again and you realised what that explanation must of sounded like to her.

“I love that man, you understand that right? We were, literally, meant to be together and now that I am back, I’m not letting him go ever again. He means everything to me.” 

~~~~

It wasn’t until later that night that you and Lucifer talked about what happened while you were gone. He had grown curious of the reason for your absence and you knew that the subject was inevitable. As you were preparing for bed, not that the two of you needed sleep, he sat behind you as you perched at the end of the bed. His hands unzipping the back of your top and mouth placing kisses to your exposed shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” You turned around before he had the chance to fully see your back. Taking in a deep breath, you kept your back to him, attempting to deter conversation.

“Nothing. I just… I want to explain why I wasn’t there for you. I know that you are curious and you don’t want to ask but..” Lucifer knew that there was more to it than that for the reason you pulled away so suddenly from his touch but he dropped it, hoping that you would tell him in your own time. He nodded, urging you on and taking your spot on the bed, you standing straight in front of him. Your feet stuttered forward, kneeling down before him and gazing up into those eyes that you fell in love with all those eons ago, capturing his toned hands in between yours, cradling them. 

“When you were exiled, your father was a mixture of emotion. My one job in his eyes was to ‘save’ you, and I failed. He thought that I would know more about your true intentions and how to get inside your head. He wanted to be one step ahead. He tried to get the information out of me but I didn’t even understand the questions he was spewing half the time.” Bowing your head, avoiding certain details and aspects, “in the end he gave up, claiming I was useless. He cast me out just like he did to you. That’s when I came to find you. I promise you I tried to escape, to come find you but I couldn’t. He had me guarded 24/7, there was no possible way.” Tears dripped from your eyes as you relived the memories of the guards and the events that took place in that monstrous chamber: the torture, the pain, the suffering. With your mind reeling, you didn’t even notice Luci’s hand come up to grasp your chin, the contact nearly making you jump but you refrained. He noticed. He noticed all that emotion flood out of you. He noticed the fact you were breaking in front of him but still keeping a strong face, one thing he admired most about you. He also noticed the horrid scarring poking out from the slightly unzipped back of your shirt. He said nothing, it wasn’t the time. Pulling you up onto his lap, kissing your forehead and whispering love into your ears in the british accent that you adored so much. Lucifer’s mind went into panic and submerged with anger. What exactly happened to you? 

[jhope-seok]

chiaroscuro | Part 2

chi·a·ro·scu·ro (n.) /kyärəˈsk(y)o͝orō/: an effect of contrasted light and shadow (used in art); Italian, from chiaro light + oscuro dark

Disclaimer: All of the things mentioned in this story are all works of fiction and have been made up by me, the author.  I did not intend to make anything based on real life, and any coincidences to real life are purely coincidences.

AU/Genre: Mafia x Cop AU // Fluff, possible smut in future chapters

Warnings: mentions of weapons and drugs

Members: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Taehyung, Junmyeon, Yoongi, and Jennie [she hasn’t been mentioned by name yet, but she is one of the other people on the narcotics unit])

Length: 1,646 words

Masterlist | <previous : next>

“Jeon, come see me in my office. Now.” A voice sounds through the phone on his desk. Jungkook stares at his phone in shocked silence after the voice cuts out. The young officer’s thoughts go haywire as he tries to think of anything that he could have done to deserve such a harsh tone from his captain. He hadn’t had anything go wrong with any of the traffic stops he’d done in the last three months, had no people call him to court for wrongful tickets, had no write-ups, had been following the rule book to the T, and he struggles to come up with a reason why his captain would sound so angry. Nonetheless, he stands anxiously from his desk and walks as calmly as he can into his superior’s office.

“Ah, Jeon.” His captain looks up at him from his computer screen.  “Please. Sit.” He waves with a hand at the chair in front of his desk.

Jungkook gulps down the lump in his throat and tries to hide how his hands shake as he sits down across from the elder man.

“So,” his captain starts, voice strict and succinct. But, when his eyes finally make contact with Jungkook’s he cracks into a smile, letting out a boisterous laugh. “No need to look so worried Jeon, this is actually good news.”

“Good news, sir?” Jungkook does his best to keep his voice from wavering, but his voice cracks on the ‘r’ of 'sir' and his captain lets out a hearty laugh with a loud smack of his hand on the desk in front of him.

“Absolutely! I just got word from the narcotics unit that there is an opening. Another officer unfortunately got shot in the back and the doctors said the probability of him walking again is slim to none. Sad story, honestly." His captain shakes his head, eyes cast down to the file in front of him, most likely containing the information of the new position. "Such a rare chance shot. He will recover, but he’ll probably be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life...stuck doing desk work. So obviously, there is a need for a field replacement. And the name of the person I’d like to offer up to take his spot is yours, Jeon.”

Jungkook’s head spins at the sudden news. He had heard from fellow officers of the tragedy that happened in the narcotics unit. He remembers the chaos in the station when the news came around that an officer had been shot on duty. It was utter madness trying to get everyone to focus back on their work. But, never would he have imagined that it would have led to an opportunity for him. They all thought he was going to recover. Then again, the more Jungkook thinks about it the more he realizes he didn't really have much information about the incident to begin with.

"Captain," his voice is raspy and he swallows hard to alleviate the dryness in his throat. "I am greatly honored to be offered this position. I will do my best to do you and this precinct proud."

His captain stands, adjusting his belt, "Excellent! I believe you will do this position justice. Now, Jeon, I must warn you. It's a known fact that there is a lot of corruption that can't be stopped in narcotics. Promise me to keep your hand out of the pot for as long as you can."

Jungkook stands, back straight as if he were back in his academy days. "Absolutely, sir. You can count on me."

His captain offers his hand, to which Jungkook gives it a firm shake. "Alright, Jeon. Report to Lieutenant Kim down in narcotics and he'll fill you in on everything that's been going on."

"Thank you, Captain. I won't let you down."

The rest of the day passes by in blur. Lieutenant Kim Junmyeon seems more strict than the stories he's heard about the man, but he gets the feeling he's putting on the act because Jungkook is new meat on his team. Junmyeon shows him to his new desk, and introduces him to the other members of the team. He's surprised by the bright faces that occupy the other desks around him and tries his best to remember all the names of his new coworkers.

When they have their first team meeting to catch him up to speed, he's delighted to find out he's going to be working most closely with a man who seems to be around his age, and the friendliest looking out of them all. "Jeon, you're going to be partnered with Kim, he'll show you the ropes, get you caught up on the cases he's working on."

The man to his right gives him a pat on the back, "Welcome to the crew, man. You're not the same as my old partner, but I'm sure we'll get along just fine."

"Thanks," Jungkook mutters, unsure of how he's meant to feel at the man's words. He tries to remember his name from the introductions earlier. "It’s Kim....Taehyung, right?"

"Yep!" The sandy blonde haired man gives him a huge smile. "The one and only. You can just call me Taehyung. No need for formalities if we’re going to be partners."

“Ah,” Jungkook bows slightly. “It’s nice to meet you. I look forward to learning from and working with you.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Junmyeon’s voice brings their attention back to the front. “Jeon is going to be with us for the time being, as it looks like Song won’t be able to work in the field again. So treat him like he’s one of us, because he is. And Jeon, don’t think that because you’re new here I’m going to go easy on you. You’re one of us now. Prove it.”

“Yes, sir.” Jungkook stands a little straighter, and nods. He doesn’t want to let his new unit down, and he will do everything to prove that he belongs here. He won’t waste this chance.

“Good. Well, that’s all for now. Kim, make sure to bring him fully up to speed, so that by tomorrow morning he can land with a running start.”

“Absolutely, Lieutenant.”

“Dismissed.”

After the meeting ends and before Jungkook can even settle back into his desk, Taehyung pulls him into a separate room. “To really give you the full picture of what it’s going to be like working with me, first, you need to see where you’ll be spending most of your time,” Taehyung says as he flips the light on in a small conference room.

There before him lay two whiteboards full of red arrows and lines connecting everything together. The whiteboard on the left of the room is covered with mugshots and names, one large portrait hanging in the middle at the top, with the name Min Yoongi written in large letters underneath. ‘Gang leader’ is scribbled above the photo. From what Jungkook could make out from the blurry photograph, there was an SUV parked outside of what appeared to be an abandoned building, a man being escorted into the car, most of his body shielded from the camera’s view.

The whiteboard on the right was filled with mostly question marks, except for very few names and pictures across the bottom of the board. All of the named photos were listed as ‘dealers’, which made Jungkook wonder about all of the missing information.

“This,” Taehyung starts, “is what you have missed. These are all of the names of the known members of the two largest cocaine gangs in the area, as well as suspected leaders. We know almost all there is to know about one gang,” he says pointing to the board on the left side of the room. “We’ve been extremely close to capturing the higher up gang members several times, but somehow they always get away at the last second.”

“And this,” Taehyung points to the board on the right. “This is, well. Right now this gang is pretty much a mystery. We got really lucky busting a drug deal on the side of the road. We were stationed outside of one of the suspected warehouses for this gang,” he explains, gesturing the the board on the left.

“We heard a knock on the window, honestly we thought we’d be been busted. Turns out it was just some idiot had come up to our unmarked car and tried to deal to cops,” He points to one of the faces at the bottom of the board. “Poor kid had no idea. But, lucky for us, it was our first big break into this new gang. We only figured out there was another gang operating in the city when we questioned him about the higher ups in--what we thought at the time was--the gang he was in.” Taehyung tapped the left board as he passed it, pacing around the room. “We found out very quickly that we were wrong when he spit in Song’s face. ‘Scum,’ I believe is what he so kindly called them.”

Jungkook’s head is reeling from all of this information. He’s always wanted to move up the ranks in the force, into a different department where he wasn’t just constantly on the prowl for people going a little over the speed limit. But now that he’s here he’s concerned he won’t be able to keep up. But he tries his best to follow along as Taehyung continues.

“Well, we believe they’ve been operating in this area for a long time, possibly longer than Min Yoongi’s gang. But, somehow they’ve gone relatively unnoticed, minus seemingly unrelated drug busts over the years. Song and I had to do a lot of digging to make the connections to past cases. But, once we caught two other dealers in the same area, we knew we’d caught wind of something big.”

feedback is always welcome! please feel free to leave some here!

A/N: Song is Song Minho...but this chapter and maybe one more is the only time I’m going to mention him by name. I’m not supportive of him at the moment and I won’t go into details (you can do your own research abt the subject), but I thought I should clarify who Taehyung’s old partner was. Now you know!

[antoine-roquentin]

Yesterday, Haaretz columnist Rogel Alpher published a piece titled “Israeli Minister Shaked Takes After Mussolini”. In it he opined that Justice Minister Ayelet Shaked was literally, not just metaphorically, a fascist. Alpher was referring to that speech where Shaked said: “Zionism should not continue, and I say here, it will not continue to bow down to the system of individual rights interpreted in a universal way.”

The minister’s announcement of a “moral and political revolution” aimed at strengthening national principles at the expense of universal individual rights was comparable to Mussolini’s “doctrine of fascism,” the columnist said. He cited Mussolini’s “revolutionary negation” of individualism and liberalism, wherein the nation “was a superior, super-personal reality … a moral law, a tradition, a mission binding together generations past, present and future, and all the individuals”(quoting from Jacob Talmon’s “The Myth of the Nation and the Vision of Revolution”). 

Alpher’s column came after Gideon Levy’s column, which was also based on the speech Shaked gave, on that same critical sentence about Zionism and individual rights. But Levy actually thanked Shaked for “telling the truth” and for “speaking honestly.” And that truth was, as Levy put it: “Zionism contradicts human rights, and thus is indeed an ultranationalist, colonialist and perhaps racist movement.”

But now we need to step back a bit, and combine these two angles into a kind of intellectual 3D picture:

If Alpher is calling Shaked an actual fascist, based upon what she said, and if Levy is concluding that those words are a true and honest representation of Zionism itself, then the combined logic must be, that Zionism is itself a form of fascism.

That actually makes a lot of sense. It doesn’t have to mean Zionism is a carbon copy of Italian fascism, just like the crime of Apartheid doesn’t require identical features to Apartheid South Africa (and as I have recently opined, Zionism is Apartheid, and worse). Racist, ultra-nationalist endeavors tend to flock together in alliance, just like the Mussolini-Hitler alliance, or more recently the Netanyahu-Orban alliance (wherein Netanyahu threw Jewish philanthropist George Soros under the anti-Semitic Hungarian bus). There has of course also been the actual alliance between the Zionist Revisionists of Zeev (Vladimir) Jabotinsky and the Italian Fascists. Jabotnisky’s ideology, which informed the Jewish terrorist Irgun and Stern Gang factions in Palestine, was the informer of Menachem Begin’s Herut, which morphed into Likud.

When Jabotinsky’s fighters were training in the 1930’s, a leading Italian naval publication stated:

“In agreement of all the relevant authorities it has been confirmed that the views and the political and social inclinations of the Revisionists are known and that they are absolutely in accordance with the fascist doctrine. Therefore, as our students they will bring the Italian and fascist culture to Palestine.” (Noted in Eric Kaplan, The Jewish Radical Right: Revisionist Zionism and Its Ideological Legacy, 2005, see p. 149-171).

Alright, alright, some will say – that’s the right-wing Zionism, but what about the left wing?

Well, I believe that Ben-Gurion’s famous words from 1938, where he said that

”If I knew that it was possible to save all the children of Germany by transporting them to England, and only half by transferring them to the Land of Israel, I would choose the latter, for before us lies not only the numbers of these children but the historical reckoning of the people of Israel”

are an epitome of that essentially fascist ‘revolutionary negation of individualism and liberalism, wherein the nation was a superior, super-personal reality, a moral law’. It is that will to sacrifice individuals – aye, even children – for the supposed ‘greater national good’. Note that Ben-Gurion was not speaking about soldiers fighting in a war. He was speaking about children, who weren’t even citizens of any “Jewish state” and never signed up for it. Under this all-encompassing Jewish ‘national’ notion, every Jew is considered a part. This comes full circle with Netanyahu speaking on the supposed behalf of Jews all over the world, saying to them “Israel is your home” in the wake of terror attacks on Jewish targets.

All Zionists understand this, even if it is at an instinctive level. The will to sacrifice Palestinian rights (as well as other rights) for the ‘national Jewish home’ is a core tenet of Zionism. There are no real moral qualms in Zionism about ethnic cleansing of Palestinians; any such qualms are quelled by the claim that it’s ‘complicated’. When a Zionist like the self-proclaimed ‘leftist’ Israeli historian Benny Morris finally concedes the fairness of the term ‘ethnic cleansing’, it comes with the supposedly-exonerating caveat–

“There are circumstances in history that justify ethnic cleansing.”

Morris echoes Ben-Gurion’s words: “I support compulsory transfer. I don’t see anything immoral in it” (as quoted in Morris’s own book Righteous Victims). Yet Morris opines that Ben-Gurion should have gone further in his ‘transfer’: “If he was already engaged in expulsion, maybe he should have done a complete job.”

So these are the more ‘honest’ voices of Zionism. The voices that forgot to keep the mask of political correctness. They come from both right and left, but the right seems more prone to drop the mask.

Incidentally, Benjamin Netanyahu’s son Yair recently posted a virulently anti-Semitic meme, where George Soros is depicted as a global manipulator, controlling a reptilian, a caricature ‘Illuminati’ Jew, and a train of other figures who are supposedly the ‘food chain’ feeding off the Netanyahu family, all (except the reptilian) holding their hands in the “happy merchant” fashion. The meme, congratulated by the Nazi Daily Stormer as “awesome,” caused quite some outrage in Israel, especially in the left. But Communication Minister Ayoub Kara, who is Netanyahu’s ‘Arab puppet’, asserted that Yair Netanyahu was “just a kid playing on Facebook.“

Yair Netanyahu’s meme is an example of how Zionism brings anti-Semitism full circle (as I wrote last year). And when it does that, many distance themselves, temporarily, because it looks bad.

But what if it’s not temporary? What if Zionism is, indeed the embodiment of fascist ultra-nationalism, and is racist at its very core? This would mean that it is also, inherently, anti-Semitic, because it would turn against Jews for being Jews – if they do not toe the ultra-nationalist line. These would be “the wrong kind of Jews”, as Zionist leader (and later Israeli President) Chaim Weizmann said to Lord Balfour. The same Chaim Weizmann who met with Mussolini four times between 1923 and 1934.

Understanding that Israel is enacting Apartheid is not a very complicated conclusion nowadays. To understand that this Apartheid is part and parcel of the basic Zionist ideology informing it can be a bit harder, but it’s a logical step to make. Again, Israel does not have to copy South African Apartheid for the crime of Apartheid to be enacted, as was cogently and meticulously documented in this year’s UN commissioned report on Israeli Apartheid by professors Richard Falk and Virginia Tilley.

Likewise, Israel doesn’t have to copy Italian Fascism precisely for Zionism to be regarded as a fascist ideology. Alpher’s appraisal of Shaked’s words are actually an appraisal of Zionism, with its revolutionary, ultra-nationalist notions. And Levy says that Shaked is actually telling the truth about Zionism.

So the plot thickens, the net tightens. And for those who follow the logic of this, the question is really reduced to: Do you want to support a fascist ideology?

[newsiees]

the truth about love

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Higgins meet Race for the first time. 

read on: archive of our own

warning: mild mentions of homophobia, badly translated italian :)

Wind pushed against any second thoughts, whispering taunts and epithets of cowardice. Commitment had been confirmed. They had volunteered themselves to rejection.

Spot glanced at Race, forcing himself not to be tense. Race was worried enough, anxiously tapping his foot as he looked at the world outside of the car window through unfocused eyes.

The wind was rustling the auburn leaves of the highway trees, disturbing their comfortable peace. Spot scowled at the crackling branches. They didn’t know upheaval. They weren’t driving their boyfriend to his parent’s house for an Italian Catholic Sunday dinner. Trees didn’t need to come out to their parents. How rude of them to even tremor. 

The New York suburb of Race’s childhood was just forty five minutes out of Brooklyn, just forty five minutes from the dorm which Spot and Race shared. Race’s parents were delighted that Race had found a closeby college with friends whom he could be close with. They were pleased when Race had asked them if Spot could come over for dinner. It would have been a disgrace to lines of ancestors if Race had left his roommate without dinner on a Sunday. He had to come.

 But Race knew he had to be honest. Race knew who he was. Race knew what Spot meant to him. Race knew that last night’s sleepless thoughts of self-encouragement had made him as ready as he knew he ever would be. Race did not know, however, what would come of his open revelation.

 The green sign screamed at the pair from overhead. Exit 43. Ten minutes left.

Spot reached to Race’s knee, resting the back of his hand on the fabric and inviting Race’s fingers to join his own. 

“How you doing?”

 Race felt the warmth and pressure of Spot’s hand before turning towards the driver’s seat to respond.

“I am preparing for the world to end.”

Spot chuckled, eyes still on the road as he guided Race’s hand to his lips.

 “Happily?”

 “With you?” Race joked, quivering in his smile.

 Spot turned slightly to raise his eyebrows at Race.

 Race sighed, “This is gonna happen. I just gotta...do it.”

Spot smiled, though grim. His grin was trapped beneath the windshield, as the outside world was full of ridiculously typical family homes. One on the left, two on the right. Backyard on the left, helmeted family biking on the right. Race was looking green.   

“That one. Pull in there.”

Spot obeyed the quiet voice and rounded into the drive. Park. Brake. Engine off.

Their hands were curled into each other, together, empowering.

“I love you.” Race quaked.

Spot lifted the corner of his mouth. An unsteady breath with a safe, present clutch of hands.

Spot let Race open his own door and enter his old world. His feet traced his childhood steps, with the foreign Spot balancing slowly behind. Race took a deep breath as he lifted his hand, curled into a cold, distant fist. One last glance at Spot for lovely fortitude. He would knock. He would, he would-

“Antonio! Amore mio, oh, come here.”

 Race was stunned into a hug, hand still clenched in preparation for the latent knock that never came. He peered bashfully at Spot through a hole in the entwined embrace, receiving a jesting eyebrow raise in response.

 “Oh, Antonio. I heard your car pull into the driveway and I could not wait. It’s so wonderful to see you!” 

Race weaved his way out of the hug, still holding his mother’s arms as she grasped his.

“Hi, mamma.”

 “Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

 “You too, mamma,” Race replied, wanting to mean it. His mother’s eyes were so warm and her hands so protecting. He wished he could be what she wanted. 

“Oh, and this must be Sean! It’s so nice to meet you, come here!.” She jerked Spot into a hug, drowning his thin Irish bones in Italian skin. Race laughed and felt too comfortable. He was glad he was who he was, if only to love this moment. 

She gripped Spot’s shoulders as she let go, veiling his shaking muscles with her wild grip. 

“Come, we must eat!”

Race brushed Spot’s hand as he lead him into the foyer. It was full of framed photographs of gap-toothed school pictures, lining a white hallway that led to a cornucopian kitchen. Spot smirked at the young face of Race before turning to the grown, slightly flustered countenance. Race was composed enough to wink at Spot before his mother whirled around to haul the boys to the dining room table.

 The table was set, with wildflowers in a sky vase in the center. Clean chinets were placed on vinyl mats at four seats. One end was empty and the opposite was full of a wide man. He had thick eyebrows that were set atop his eyes, comfortably judging with authority.

“Hello, Antonio. How are you?”

 It seemed like Race should have bowed or offered a sacrifice. But he just grinned carefully and chuckled a bit.

“Hey, Dad. I’m good, thanks. It’s good to see you.”

Spot smiled at the scene. He’s sure he saw this in a classic sentimental painting. Alas, he knows there is more beyond the ornamental frame.

Mr. Higgins shook Race’s hand, crinkling his eyes though hiding his closed-mouth smile beneath his pruned moustache.

“You must be Sean.”

 Spot froze in the shadow of the door frame. He let his eyes seek comfort in Race before balancing his body on his spine, assuming military posture. 

“Yes, sir. It’s nice to meet you...sir.”

 Race rolled his eyes, too fond to notice how awkward the communication was. Mr. Higgins just chuckled, like a mafia gangster might, and reached out his hand. He was not leaving the head of the table.

“And you. I am glad that Antonio got a roommate that he didn’t hate.”

Spot raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah...me too?”

 Mr. Higgins chuckled again in the same gruff, superior manner.

 “Good kid.”

 Mrs. Higgins shuffled in with too many dishes of various sauced foods.

“Sit down, boys, eat!!!” 

The smell forced them to oblige.

After dinner, they sat around the dirty dishes, laughing over small talk. Spot hadn’t said a word, only listening to Race relax. Spot had heard of storytimes and holidays and game nights and laughter. Race loved his parents and his parents loved the Antonio they knew, Spot knew that much from his first loud, Italian dinner. If only love lasted.

“So, Mamma...Dad...I have something...to tell you guys.”

He looked at them, eyes naturally drifting to meet Spot’s as they moved from his sauce-soaked plate to the dark eyes of his parents. 

“Antonio?” His mother leaned onto her toes, ready to leap into a comforting hug or a defensive battle. His father’s expression remained blank, hidden behind thick walls of shadowed hair.

“I’m…” His eyes left the room. “I’m really happy to be here...at home...here...with you guys.”

Spot’s exhale surprised him.

Race’s mother leaned back, clutching her hands to her heart.

“Oh, Antonio!”

“He just wants to get out of doing the dishes,” Mr. Higgins retorted, mustache twitching with a scoff.

 Race laughed timorously and looked down. Spot’s skin itched.

 “Oh, be quiet. He’s worked hard and deserves a break. You boys go on upstairs. Your video games are still plugged in, Antonio. Allora avanti! Go on!”

Race looked at Spot and Spot looked back, both too stunned to grin. Slow motion filtered their movements as they pushed in their chairs and left the dining room. Spot murmured an unheard thank you before following Race out of the room and up a set of carpeted beige stairs.

One corner turned and a door opened before Spot was leaning against a navy wall, watching Race shove his hands in his pockets and sit on his bed.

Spot chuckled at Race’s careful smile, leaning his head back against the cold wall. Turning, he watched Race’s childhood unfold on the walls. Calendars with ancient years, photographs of laughing boys, band posters.

 “Thank you for coming with me.” Race breathed, rocking the springs so that they screamed.

 “Not a problem.” Spot slowly led his legs lead him across the room. “So I heard video games.”

The two took themselves to a bean bag for some Mario Kart, which Spot lost miserably because “They don’t call me Race for nothing!”

Race had leaned into Spot’s shoulder, laughing in his ear. Spot’s raised hair chilled his body. He had left his skin in Brooklyn. His tongue chapped his lips, anticipating interruption. He would not kiss Race, he would not kiss Race, “Swept the round again, Spot!”, God, he wanted to kiss Race...

 “Ciao, boys! Dinner is all cleaned up, come down for dessert!” Mrs. Higgins broke the fragile safety. Spot’s blood left him. 

“Sweet, Mamma, thanks.” Race was getting up, smiling at his mother, eyes away. Mrs. Higgins smiled, pleased, and returned downstairs.

Race gave Spot his hand, raising Spot from the engulfing bean bag to stand in front of him, so close he could have felt Spot’s breath if he wasn’t holding it.

“Hey.”

Exhale.

“Hey.”

“We should probably get going in a bit, if we want to leave before five,” Race said to Spot’s eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I find it amusing how much more composed I am than you. This is my coming-out dinner.” Race was joking, fingers following familiar patterns on Spot’s palm.

“I’m nervous so you don’t have to be. It’s called support, Racetrack.”

Race laughed, letting his lips find Spot’s cheek in less than a moment, before tugging Spot towards the door.

“C’mon. I miss biscotti.” 

Spot watched Race walk to the door, toes curling around nineties carpet.

“They love you, you know.”

Race didn’t turn around.

 “Yeah. For now.”

 Mr. Higgins hadn’t moved. Spot spent the first few minutes of dessert trying to guess how tall he was while Mrs. Higgins entertained herself with Race’s academic affairs, proud and contented. Race was telling his plate of biscotti his grades.

“And you, Sean, what are you doing at school?”

Spot’s nerve ran around the house. Upon its return, he cleared his throat. 

“English.”

Mrs. Higgins’ pink face rounded as she smiled, but Mr. Higgins spoke first.

“English?”

Spot felt his blood pool in his feet. Maybe he’d melt.

“Uh...yeah. I like to read, sir. Mister.” Men horrified Spot. How ironic. 

Mr. Higgins only nodded as Mrs. Higgins fussed.

“Don’t let him frighten you, caro. He used to read plenty before numbers and math took over. Reading is so cute!”

Spot blinked.

“Er...thanks.”

“I have a boyfriend.” 

Slow followed the rapid confession. Not one heart dared to beat.

“Sean. Sean is my boyfriend.” Race was only loud enough to be audible, unwilling to repeat himself. 

Mr. Higgins choked on his throat’s surprise, murmuring “Jesus Christ.”

Mrs. Higgins veiled her eyes, pressing them tight, pressing her mouth tight. Silence. Spot responded to their silence with silence. Race tried to do the same, but was breathing too hard.

“We should go,” Race stuttered and stood, pursuing Spot’s willing hand and planning to be in Brooklyn by the end of the minute.

“Antonio?” The tense air pressed the word to Race. He froze at the front door, his old front door, the entrance and the exit.

“Yes?” Spot only saw Race’s words. 

“Where are you going?”

“Back to school.” If Race closed his eyes, they would release his years of disguise. His mother looked back at him.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Spot stepped forward, building protection, prevention. Race let himself slink into his next words.

“I don’t want there to be a first time that I am hurt by my parents.” 

Mrs. Higgins felt her heart twitch.

“I don’t want to hurt you. If you left now, you would be making that decision for me.”

“But God...the crosses...saying grace before meals, going to Church every week, sin, sin, sin.” Race’s skin inundated red. Spot used his wrists to tie his hands unmoving.

Mrs. Higgins took her son’s hand, looking to Spot before contact. He raised his chin, watching so she knew she was being watched. He was there. 

“My God believes in love.”

Race’s heart hovered and soared, ending in a gripping hug with his mother, his first hug.

Alive in the foyer, they all caught sight of Mr. Higgins, standing for the first time at the end of the hallway. He was taller, scarier than Spot had expected.

“Thank you, Antonio, for telling us.”

 Race blinked, embracing his tears now and letting his years of loneliness dance away.

Race tripped over to his father and grasped the beginning around his wide shoulders.

 “It’ll…” Mr. Higgins cleared his throat, trying hard to find appropriate words. “It’ll take some time before I’m used to this. Before I get it right.” 

“I’m glad that we have time.” Mr. Higgins let his arms down and hugged his son back.

Spot suddenly realized he was being hugged by Race’s mother, listening to Italian words in a sweet, desperate voice. She smelt like pasta sauce, the same pasta sauce Race made on rainy weekends. He felt his life rewind and start again, with hugs. 

After Race had embraced his parents a few times more, words light and light bright, his hand joined Spot’s.

“Thank you for dinner, mamma. We’ll come back.”

“Grazie, amore miei.” My loves.

They floated down the walkway, together. Spot thought once and opened Race’s door for him. Race waved at his parents through the windshield as Spot walked around the back of the car to the driver’s side, never planning on standing between family.

Race stared at his house through bright eyes, through the chipping garage door, through the freshly opened walls, to freshly opened hearts.

Spot started Race’s car, an old friend from the gift of high school years.

His hand rested on the gear shift. Race’s hand rested upon Spot’s.

Spot looked towards Race, Race looked towards Spot. They both looked towards the future.

Spot smiled and laughed a little.

 “Well, that went well.” 

[kamenhusband]

So in the meantime of getting a new laptop I did a writing exercise for my OC Gyro doing character banter with the Injustice 2 cast, like the pre-fight dialogue.

Crimson Rider vs Injustice 2 cast

Batman: Show me you got what it takes.

Gyro: I started training at half Nightwing's age.

Batman: You’ve never fought me before.

Gyro: Don’t you think that’s a bit much?

Batman: Trust me, I can afford it

Gyro: My tech’s more, economical.

Superman: You know exactly how strong I am, right?

Gyro: Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you

Superman: That was your last chance.

Gyro: You will be stopped

Superman: I only fight for justice

Gyro: A lot of villains start off that way too

Wonder Woman: It would be wise to surrender

Gyro: Says the homicidal demi-goddess.

Wonder Woman: You know nothing boy.

Gyro: Zeus is gonna be so disappointed in you.

Wonder Woman: I am the gods’ judge and executioner.

Gyro: So ALL the gods are gonna be disappointed.

Aqua man: What is your business with Atlantis?

Gyro: Just wanted to try some sushi.

Aqua man: The trident says otherwise.

Gyro: You must hate Seaworld don’t yah Arthur?

Aqua man: Get out of my way.

Gyro: Just trying to make conversation dude.

Super girl: This is a symbol of hope.

Gyro: And I’m the symbol of freedom.

Super girl: You have the freedom to run away

Gyro: My girlfriend can beat the tar out of you.

Super girl: Then why isn’t she fighting me?

Gyro: Cause I’m still stronger than you.

Power girl: How can you stand all those sounds from your suit.

Gyro: Makes me sound cooler.

Power Girl: Makes you sound deader.

Gyro: My coordinator says you’re…different

Power Girl: What’s that supposed to mean?

Gyro: You don't belong here, and that’s coming from me.

Green Lantern (Hal): You’d make one helluva Green Lantern kid.

Gyro: My power comes from all emotions, not just one.

Green Lantern: Fair enough, let’s begin.

Gyro: Y’know, red’s more my color anyway.

Green Lantern: Red is the color of rage.

Gyro: Red is the color of heroism.

Green Lantern (John): The Guardians have an interest in you.

Gyro: Not interested, flying’s not my thing.

Green Lantern: You don’t have a choice.

Gyro: There certainly a lot of lanterns

Green Lantern: Universe’s a big place.

Gyro: Aren’t you afraid you won’t stand out?

Flash (Barry): I’m the fastest man alive

Gyro: Subjective and also super debatable.

Flash: You don’t even have the speed force.

Gyro: I don’t need the speed force to outrun you.

Flash: I can't run from a fight.

Gyro: Yeah, also better at that than you.

Flash (Jay): Ever faced an original speedster?

Gyro: In my world, yes, yes I have.

Flash: Then this will be refreshing.

Gyro: You remind me of my grandfather.

Flash: This old timer can teach you some things.

Gyro: He taught me everything he knew.

Reverse Flash: I am the master of the speed force

Gyro: I am the master of kicking your ass

Reverse Flash: You’d be surprised.

Gyro: Speedsters never last long.

Reverse Flash: You don’t know what I’m capable of.

Gyro: Quite frankly, yes I do.

Green Arrow: How does your bow work?

Gyro: charged by kinetic energy, infinite arrows.

Green Arrow: Way to make the rest of us feel jealous.

Gyro: Where’s Canary to fight your battles for you?

Green Arrow: At least my defender isn’t called Pink Princess.

Gyro: Okay I get it, let’s drop it Oliver.

Black Canary: You wanna throw down with me?

Gyro: This suit has some great ear plugs.

Black Canary: My cry will rattle your skull.

Gyro: Please, go raise your son, he’ll thank you later.

Black Canary: I’m not one to back down from a challenge.

Gyro: This isn’t a suggestion.

Cyborg: So you know an android?

Gyro: And she’s three times more human than you.

Cyborg: You’re going to regret saying that.

Gyro: My tech surpasses yours.

Cyborg: All your tech is is sketchy.

Gyro: Yet not as sketchy as the regime.

Grid: You will help me on my quest for emotion.

Gyro: You will not succeed rust bucket.

Grid: It is futile to resist.

Gyro: The Pathos Drive isn’t something you can just acquire.

Grid: False, everything in this world is just data.

Gyro: Time to you prove you hella wrong.

Firestorm: I can go nuclear in seconds.

Gyro: I can punch mountains apart.

Firestorm: Now that is seriously badass.

Gyro: You know my father can make blue flames?

Firestorm: Does he have the matrix too?

Gyro: No, it’s natural for him, me… less so.

Blue Beetle: Is your coordinator as scary as the scarab?

Gyro: Probably, who knows, Liz can be petty at times.

Blue Beetle: Can we switch please? Pretty please?

Gyro: Once again, I'm a grasshopper, not a scarab.

Blue Beetle: But you got a scarab shield.

Gyro: Details, details Jaime.

Robin: I’m the world’s greatest assassin.

Gyro: And I’m the world’s best fighter.

Robin: Won’t help you here bug boy.

Gyro: And I thought I had father issues.

Robin: I don’t have any issues.

Gyro: Just settle down Bat boy.

Harley Quinn: And what are you exactly?

Gyro: Italian and Hawaiian, I know it’s hard to pinpoint.

Harley Quinn: I meant Batman, Flash, B.B, you’re them all.

Gyro: You know, I have a friend kind of like you.

Harley Quinn: Ooh, are they pretty as me? No don’t tell me.

Gyro: I meant you both got out of a shitty relationship.

Black Adam: I command the living lighting.

Gyro: I dodge lighting bolts for funsies.

Black Adam: You dare mock a king?

Gyro: I can’t stand with the regime.

Black Adam: Then you will fall under my strength.

Gyro: I’ve fought gods too.

Gorilla Grodd: My powers don't work on you?

Gyro: Nothing up there, nothing to control.

Gorilla Grodd: Clearly, you will die nonetheless

Gyro: I'm used to fighting weird animal people.

Gorilla Grodd: I will show you my superiority.

Gyro: Bring it on Donkey Kong.

Bane: Bugs get squashed.

Gyro: Fruit gets old.

Bane: I will break you.

Gyro: You’re nothing without that Venom.

Bane: I can destroy you without it.

Gyro: Just try it little guy.

Cat Woman: I’ll steal that belt right off of you.

Gyro: You can’t even if you tried.

Cat Woman: That makes it all the more worth it.

Gyro: Do you need relationship counseling?

Cat Woman: I don't need insight from a kid.

Gyro: I know how you can seal the deal with Brucie.

Poison Ivy: All men are the same

Gyro: A lot of villains in my world think the same way.

Poison Ivy: Doesn't make them any less wrong.

Gyro: I’m gonna break your green thumb.

Poison Ivy: The Green is stronger than you could possibly imagine.

Gyro: I’d say I’m pretty imaginative.

Cheetah: I’ve never seen prey like you.

Gyro: Who says I’m prey?

Cheetah: When you’re but meat on my claws.

Gyro: There there, good kitty.

Cheetah: I am no mere house cat.

Gyro: You’re as harmless as one.

Vixen: So do you really have bug powers?

Gyro: Depends on what powers you think a bug has.

Vixen: Well that’s different.

Gyro: I know a lot of people on my world like you.

Vixen: There’s only one me here.

Gyro: Yeah your powers aren’t that intimidating.

Dr. Fate: You’ve defied fate once before.

Gyro: It was necessary.

Dr. Fate: I will be the judge of that

Gyro: Magic was never my thing.

Dr. Fate: It takes eons of discipline and training.

Gyro: Kicks just feel so much better.

Swamp Thing: Are you friend or foe?

Gyro: Friend, hopefully.

Swamp Thing: The Green will decide that.

Gyro: I can’t stand those who stand back and do nothing.

Swamp Thing: I only do as the Green commands.

Gyro: You have to take matters into your own hands.

Deadshot: Still not use to killing kids.

Gyro: you can stop killing altogether y’know.

Deadshot: Not happening.

Gyro: You don’t hold a candle to Sanguine.

Deadshot: What kind of name is Sanguine?

Gyro: Never mind shouldn’t compare you to my nemesis.

Atrocitus: I feel rage burning within you.

Gyro: Nope, just buffalo chicken pizza.

Atrocitus: Do not deny your anger.

Gyro: You do the color red a disservice.

Atrocitus: I’ve been a Red Lantern eons before you were born.

Gyro: Guess we gotta throw down for dibs then.

Captain Cold: My gun can stop the Flash

Gyro: I also have fire gauntlets

Captain Cold: Can they handle absolute zero?

Gyro: You have a chance to be good.

Captain Cold: Sorry, like stealing too much.

Gyro: I gave you a fair chance.

Dr. Freeze: I must bring back my wife

Gyro: She wouldn't want you to do this.

Dr. Freeze: You nothing about my pain.

Gyro: Please let it go

Dr. Freeze: I can bring back your mother with this too

Gyro: I won’t tell you again.

Scarecrow: I know what you fear most.

Gyro: So what big guy?

Scarecrow: I will use it to destroy you.

Gyro: My fear makes me stronger than you.

Scarecrow: You fear losing the ones you love.

Gyro: I will protect everyone with my power.

Joker: I hate you goody-two shoe types.

Gyro: How about I kick you with those shoes.

Joker: Your material could use more work.

Gyro: I will make you regret every crime you committed?

Joker: With what, the power of friendship?

Gyro: That and a proper ass whooping.

Brainiac: Your powers pique my interest.

Gyro: No way you’re getting a hold of the Pathos Drive.

Brainiac: I must add you to my collection.

Gyro: You will return all the cities you stole.

Brainiac: Who do you think you are to command me?

Gyro: The symbol of freedom.

Darkseid: What manner of creature are you?

Gyro: The world’s upcoming strongest hero.

Darkseid: I will crush you like an insect.

Gyro: Maiden Heaven was more intimidating than you.

Darkseid: You will kneel at the sight of Darkseid.

Gyro: Can’t be afraid of someone who talks in third person.

Red Hood: All those weapons and no guns.

Gyro: I got a bow, does that work?

Red Hood: Okay Red Arrow.

Gyro: You need to stop the killing.

Red Hood: I don’t touch women and children, that’s the rule.

Gyro: That doesn’t excuse everything.