#On the other hand the crew is equally creeped out and charmed by the little fella because even young he still installs the chills in them

[softesttangerines]

As someone who LOVES a good old time travel au, and after seeing amazing fanart of kid!Mihawk i have to let it out!!

I just wanna read a time travel fic where baby Mihawk wakes up and finds himself in the world of adult Mihawk and he's like wtf is going on?

And word goes around that a kid that looks exactly like Hawkeyes and carries the same cross knife as him is roaming around this island and rumors say it's the son he abandoned to fend for himself.

And so, marines and every pirates he ever wronged come after him for revenge and the little guy is just thinking why is everyone trying to get me? While doing his best with his cross dagger to rid of them.

And Shanks, good ol' shanks could have sworn that if his old rival had an 9years old, he would know about it (also he refuses to let the bitter taste in his heart take over unless his own eyes see) so he's skeptical about the whole thing and that's the only thing that gets him to leave his hideout in a reclused ghost island waiting for whatever is his big plan to take place.

News say Red Shanks is on the move after being mia for a few years and everyone got their panties in a twist, what could have raised the emperor from the dead.

He follows from island to island because apparently the young boy knows how to avoid the marines and pirates coming after him.

Till one night, on their stop at some bar on an island that wasn't really on the plan, he sees the boy. Just outside the bar in an alley, where he went to empty his guts from the booze overfilling his body, there stood bloody faced, cross dagger in one hand, a tiny version of his old rival with a bounty hunter's body at his feet.

The boy furrows his eyebrows even more at the new arrival and strikes another pose in case the new guy tries something funny. But Shanks, drunk ass Shanks, who knows his rival by heart is a 100% sure the little guy is in fact his rival for whatever magical reason, there he stands in front of him in the form of an 9years old and Shanks giggles at that -to which the child takes great offense- and just say "hey kid, i'm a friend of your dad's, want me to take you to him?"

#mishanks #Ok so here I'm running with the fandom's theory that rayleigh is mihawk's dad #And after getting all these murder attempts on his person he's just so fckn tired of anyone that approaches him So he's completely on guard #when this red haired dude comes out of nowhere n tells him he knows his dad #Which no one did before all they did was charge at him screaming HAWKEYES YOU'RE GONNA REGRET WHAT YOU DID #And here's the thing #he may be inclined to believe the red haired guy because no one knows his relation to rayleigh #so this guy must really know his dad and he's tired of running all the time he just wants his bed and parents #so cut him some slack when he follows a random one armed red haired pirate #On the other hand the crew is equally creeped out and charmed by the little fella because even young he still installs the chills in them #How can he be as equally as skilled as he is cuuuuute #They try their best not to say it to his face because he threatens to stab them at any given chance but they cant HELP IT #it's Dracule Fucking Mihawk as an 9years old!!!! Ofc he's cute #Shanks cant fucking wait to get his adult Mihawk back to tease the shit out of him about the little version of him lol #When they got him to rayleigh he fckn cried because that's his fckn son znd the last time he saw hus baby that way was more than 30years ag #Mihawk is just confused as fuck why is his dad's grey n have much more wrinklesBut it's still one familiar face so he just sticks to him #The red haired pirate keeps telling him that he should look for him when he gets home but he doesn't understand!!! #He also keeps challenging shanks on a duel once he discovers he's a swordsman and keeps on losing #And truth be told shanks is embarrassed as fuck because it took him his rival being a child for him to win over mihawk #opla #one piece #mihawk #dracule mihawk #red haired shanks #shanks

[daltonacademia]

There’s A Time For Daring - 1

charlie dalton x fem!reader [post events of the movie]

word count: 1.7k

warning: allusions to sex / slight sexual harrassment? drinking, mentions of neil’s suicide, horrible parents 

Charlie couldn’t help but emit a low growl as his vomit-inducing, picture-perfect, high-society mother and father, whom he despised, prodded him towards the expansive front entrance of Nealson Preparatory School located in southern Vermont. His fuschia-lipped, cakey-faced mother, Cynthia Dalton, was a well-dressed, dignified housewife by day and charming socialite by night; she was particularly harsh as she trampled his pen-stained oxfords with her spearish kitten heels. His eyes shot daggers at the snow-strewn path below, a familiar fire burning in his core.

There were many things Charlie was tempted to furiously spit out at his parents, but instead, he managed to keep his jaw clamped shut, his pearly whites digging into the light pink of his lips hard enough to draw blood. No matter what he shouted, cried, pleaded, they wouldn’t budge. They never would. And it was infuriating.

“Charles! Being expelled from such a prestigious school is no laughing matter, young man. That school cost us quite the pretty penny! How dare you defy the rules to the extent of expulsion. It’s disgraceful, and I will tolerate it no longer!” Charlie’s mother shrieked, furious tears smudging the thick mascara that coated her eyelashes.

“You’ll be shipped off to Nealson Preparatory School in February, and if I hear so much as a single mention of your name not followed with overwhelming compliments, you can expect nasty, nasty consequences! Go pack your things, you’ll be staying with Aunt Barbara until the first of February finally arrives!” The rims of Charlie’s brown eyes stung with anger, frustration, and furthest down, sadness. He was diminished to nothing but an image-ruiner to his mother. The person who was supposed to love him, protect him, save him from the horrors of this hell called Earth.

Mr. Dalton silently observed the boisterous outburst from his expensive leather armchair across the den, a glass of strong, half-drunk whiskey in his palm. Charlie couldn’t bear to see their despicable faces any longer, and as his body felt no longer under his control, stomped up the stairs in a huff, rapidly swiping away the glassy tears spilling from his eyes. Thoughts of running away, escaping it all, flooded his unstable mind. ‘I get why you did it, Neil. I really do. But did you have to go so soon?’ 

But instead of lingering on the image of Neil any longer, he hastily threw his bare necessities into his suitcase, which was still covered in an array of Welton Academy stickers.

The grounds of Nealson were unsurprisingly well-maintained; it reminded him a lot of Welton. The impeccably manicured lawns, gleaming, icy blue lake, the gothic stone arches and pillars. It was eerily similar to Hellton, even down to the ice-cold blanket of snow coating the distant rolling hills. It’s beautiful, Charlie thought, surveying the slow sprinkling of snow, No, it’s hideous. 

Before he could fully vomit at the vile grounds of his new school, his parents fiercely shoved him inside the Headmaster’s dingy office, politely taking the vacant mahogany seats beside him. Charlie couldn’t be bothered to listen to a word his parents said with pearly white smiles, which were no doubt tooth-rotting, sugar-coated lies about the real reason he was expelled over a month prior. 

He knew that they couldn’t just be transparent and tell the Headmaster that he had socked the utterly vile Richard Cameron’s face in (rightfully so, in his opinion), or that he was a star member of the infamous Dead Poets Society, or that he had gone to the extreme lengths to stage a phone call from none other than God himself. It didn’t work like that. 

His mother’s cheeky, artificial voice sounded precisely the same as it always had: carefully rehearsed and slathered with naivety. Seemingly without hesitation, the catty woman could deflect any less-than-pleasant questions or insinuations about her “golden role-model” son, who’s admittedly “a little misguided at times”. 

The new headmaster seated across from him appeared to be around the same age as Mr. Nolan, which, as far as Charlie was concerned, was older than the Cretaceous period at least. His pale-as-a-ghost skin was wrinkled and paper-thin; his patchy, gelled side-swept hair was (very obviously) dyed a deep, midnight black, reminiscent of an off-brand Elvis. 

Charlie’s ears continued to mute the awkward conversation happening amongst him, his focus instead shifting around to the various awards and certificates lining the ivory walls. They all seemed so phony; ‘Best Headmaster- 1947-1959’, ‘Nealson Academy: Exceeds Expectations’. The Headmaster had even framed his high school superlative: ‘Voted Most Likely to Succeed’. What a pathetic-

In a swift blur, his parents rose from their seats, his mother clutching her magenta purse with matching pursed lips. Charlie was handed a hefty, stapled packet packed full of school rules and guidelines with a denture-toothed smile from Headmaster ‘Campbell’. This’d make some decent kindling, he thought as he yanked the packet from his clammy clutches, leafing through its pages with a smirk, this garbage’s almost laughable.

A syncopated rhythm of raps on the door, followed by a gravelly, ‘come in', presented his new dorm escort. His chauffeur just so happened to be you, the accomplished and universally admired student body president in the same grade as the newcomer. You were dutifully donning Nealson’s horrendous uniform: a crisp, white button-up accented with a blue and silver tie was topped with a depressing grey sweater vest. An equally loathsome pleated skirt concealed your thighs, and your ankles were shielded from the chilly February air with black crew socks. 

You extended your perfectly manicured, soft hand out to your brand-new peer with a yearbook-worthy smile, introducing, “Hi. Welcome to Nealson, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You swore you heard the brunette mutter something disrespectful under his breath, but nonetheless, he, rather unprofessionally, shook your hand with an eye roll. Things between the two of you were not starting off the way you hoped, but you were determined to make a good impression. The best impression possible.

“Charlie Dalton,” he replied with a mischievous smirk. The brunette standing in front of you reeked of cigarettes, and there was the slightest smell of cheap beer clinging to his clothes. His brown hair was messy, springing out in every direction, despite the water furiously combed through it. His eyes glinted with rebellion, a look so alluring yet dangerous.

“I’ll be showing you to your dorm, which you’ll sleep in for the remainder of the year.” Since Dalton was starting in February, he only had five months of studying before long-awaited senior year. Mr. Campbell waved the two of you off, and with that, you trekked towards the Boys’ wing, Dalton sauntering at your side. 

The walk through the main corridor was silent and awkward. You had tried to enchant him with fun facts about Nealson and its (extensively selective) history, much to his obvious boredom and dismay. His umber eyes glazed the walls, uninterested in the decor. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, but for all you knew, it could be on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. 

After a while of treading through the high-ceilinged corridors illuminated with fleeting pale rays of sunlight, the boy next to you made no attempt to hide him drawing designs up and down your body. 

“I’ve never been to a school with both boys and girls,” he drawled with a smirk. “Do things ever get exciting around here?”

You shook your head no while indiscreetly tugging down the hem of your skirt uncomfortably, and he said, “Do you think you’d maybe wanna spend the night with me in my dorm? Make sure I’m all settled in?”

Your whole body, from head to toe, froze. The audacity of this… creep! Your tongue poked, nearly stabbed, the back of your teeth, wanting to unleash a select few words to the disgusting Dalton beside you. But alas, if he were to tell anyone of your fiery wrath, you’d be demoted from class president faster than you could explain what really happened. It’s a corrupt system, sure, but even with the power that comes with such a title, there was no way to mend it.

Eventually, while you were wrapped up in the furies of your mind, Dalton revealed a small, autographed golf ball from his trousers pocket and began throwing it up and down above his head casually with every step. 

“Can you not?” you snapped at the chestnut-haired boy after he tossed the sphere up and down again in an arch. “Don’t wanna get in trouble on your first day, do you?”  

“You think this’ll get me in trouble? Have a little fun, it won’t kill you. I promise.” Dalton turned his gaze towards you, an annoyed but smug grin painted on his lips. He slowly tossed the golf ball to your hands, intending for you to catch it. However, the small ball evaded your grasp, instead bouncing around the hardwood floors below you, creating a series of loud, reverberating thunks.

“You were supposed to catch it, you know,” Dalton teased, nonchalantly watching you chase after the rogue orb. After it was finally safe in your clutches, you stomped over to the no-good newbie, irritated. 

“Nealson’s strict. They don’t let stuff like creating an awful lot of racket go unreprimanded.” You were seething; red-hot blood pumped through your veins. Dalton didn’t look anything but utterly amused.

“Wow, you’re just about one of the biggest suck-ups I’ve seen in a while.”

“A what?” you growled.

“A suck-up. A rule-following poster child of excellence? A bratty, know-it-all? Anything along those lines?” He sputtered insults so nonchalantly, it made your blood boil and eyes sting.

“You better watch it, Dalton. I don’t know who you think you are-”

“I’m the best thing that’s happened to this school, by the looks of it.” 

You had nothing left to say to this conceited shuck of a boy who really thought that he was all that and a side of fries. Well he wasn’t! Not in the slightest! And if his first day of classes wouldn’t drill it into him, you would.

The rest of the walk was pin-drop silent and tense. No more fun facts about Nealson escaped your downturned lips, just the light patting of his beat-up oxfords and your pristine mary-janes on the polished wood floor. The hallways seemed more depressing than usual, their framed portraits and condensated windows didn’t fill you with the motivation that you came to expect.

After finally arriving at the boys’ dormitories, you grumbled, “well, this is it. Have a swell life, Dalton.”

“Right back at ya, Y/L/N. Let’s hope this isn’t the last time we meet.” He gave you a cheeky wink before slamming the door in your face.

#dead poets society #Dead Poets Society (1989) #dead poetry #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society quotes #DPS #dps fanfiction #charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton x y/n #charlie dalton

[leggomylino]

Vibe So Hot | Han Jisung

Genre: Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

AU: neighbor au, prank war au

Word Count: ~11.7k

Warning(s): mild language (censored)

A/N: inspired by the song “Vibe So Hot,” Priscilla Ahn

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

-〤〤〤-

There were times when you weren’t really sure about Han Jisung. 

The day you moved from your parent’s house into your new home, life was a dream. A delight. A living fantasy. You and your closest friend of twenty-odd years had been visualizing it for ages- a home for just the two of you, where you could make and break all the rules you wanted, eat dinner out of the cookie jar, throw paint and crayon all over the walls, and dump all the grease, homework, and leftover brussel sprouts down the garbage disposal that you wanted. It would be your kingdom with the two of you at equal pedestal on the throne, and no one could say or do anything about it.

While your visuals and ideals did change over time, what with hormones and taxes and a general understanding of how the world worked, you and F/n never stopped dreaming of the day you each held one half of the kingdom between your fingers. One half of freedom. It was a blissful, beautiful Tuesday morning. Exactly five months ago. Birds chirping in the small tulip trees. The sweet spring breeze ruffling the surrounding azaleas. The simple but water-efficient sprinkler system the two of you had worked a summer job to afford that was...spraying…...coke… 

...Yes, it had been a beautiful Tuesday morning. And also the arrival of hell next door.

“HAN JISUNG!” you yelled, banging on your neighbor’s front door. “Han Jisung, I know you’re home!” You stamped your foot. “Open this door right now!”

It was now five months later. Five months since you’d moved into your dream home, something small and sweet and affordable that you and your friend worked hard for years to achieve. Just something small to start the two of you out, while you finished up school and figured out what the heck the two of you wanted to do with the rest of your lives. 

It had easily become five months of back-and-forth hell. “HAN JISUNG!!!”

Click. The door slowly creaked open. It was dark inside, far too dark for 2 pm, like something out of a horror movie.

Oh, but you weren’t falling for another one of his tricks. Not this time. “Han Jisung, I know you’re there…” You called...weakly. “C-Come out this instant. I know it was you who stuffed cereal into the birdfeeder and left glue on the door handles. I was almost late for work this morning and F/n is stuck on the back porch.”

There was no response. You agitatedly sighed, running a hand through your hair and taking a handful of strands with you thanks to the faint remainder of krazy glue that simply wouldn’t come off.

“Han,” you called, poking your head inside. “Han? Han Jisun-”

The moment you stepped inside, a loud whrr! resounded, your body hoisting upwards. You spun around in the flimsily thin netting, falling into a fetal position backwards.

Han and a few of his cronies came out cackling at your expense, watching you gently spin and sway in their ridiculous trap. “I caught Y/n!” one of them cheered. “That’s 1,000 points.”

Another scoffed. “You didn’t do anything,” he said, blowing long blonde locks out of his face. “The points go to me for setting up the...project.”

“Shouldn’t they go to Han?” Yet another asked. “It’s his house.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to adjust. Han tromped over proudly and swung his arm around the boy. “Exactly!” he cheered, pinching his cheek. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

The kid squinted his fox-like features in disgust, shoving the ringleader away from him. Han merely laughed, smirking up at you next. He sent a flirtatious wink your way. You scoffed.

“S’up, gorgeous?”

“Drop dead.”

“Ouch,” he playfully winced, pretending to take literal damage. “Didn’t like the glue, or the cereal? I told Hyunjin no one wanted his bland raisin garbage. But,” He shrugged. “He insisted it was good for the birds. The raisins, anyway-”

“Screw you,” Goldilocks groaned. “Shove off, I never said I ate the stuff. I just said it was better than wasting Lucky Charms or something actually good.”

“...Yeah, so there’s that.” He spared a passing eye roll before putting back on his deceitfully charming smile. Disgusting. “What brought you to swing by? Just dropping in?”

The other boys laughed again, causing you to turn an annoying shade of pinkish-red, some cross between coral and rouge. “I don’t have to tell you anything!” you snapped in your anger.

Unfortunately, Han Jisung needed to know the facts. “Then...how am I supposed to help you? Oh, oh! Hold on a minute.” He simpered. “Are you maybe trying to tell me that you came by unannounced because...you wanted to get caught up in my web?”

Han’s crew all made catcalls and whistles along with nervous smiles and suggestive expressions. The nerve of him. You fought yourself into an upright position, clawing angrily at the seams. “I meant you already know what you did wrong! Get me out of this stupid thing and get over to my house so you can fix it.”

“Oooo,” A freckled-faced boy you recognized as Felix cooed. He’d often been a leading officer in many of Han’s classic pranks and schemes. “I think she wants you bro.”

The heat on your face was intensifying, whether from rage or embarrassment, you didn’t care. Your prison shook. “That’s not what I-”

“Well then,” Han (classically) interrupted. “Guess I better get over there and fix it.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a salacious manner, padding around the clamour of boys and taking the stairs three at a time like a gazelle. When he reached the top, he revealed a rope from around the corner, lowering you gently...at first.

After three careful tugs, he dropped the rope entirely. Your eyes went wide, screaming as you fell--

...Right into Han Jisung’s arms. The boy glided down the stair rail and caught you at the last possible second. “Plenty of time to spare,” he insisted, showing you his teeth.

You slapped them away, wrestling your way back to your feet. “...You’re such an asshole, Han Jisung,” You dusted yourself off, smoothing out your attire single handedly. “I--”

...You yanked your hand down. Away from his face. Hard. Harder.

It was stuck. Your hand was stuck to his cheek. Krazy glue.

“OW! Ow ow ow okay! That hurts! Sh*t!” He cursed. You rolled your eyes, kicking his leg. 

“That’s what you get for gluing my door! Now come on!”

To make things less awkward, you gripped his left ear, yanking him like a mother would a misbehaving child. The others crowded around and followed, laughing as—

The door slammed in their face. “OW!” You heard Hyunjin yelp. His watered-down image through the distorted window showed him covering his nose, the other two goons frantically asking if he was okay.

...Well, Felix did, anyway. Fox-face merely stared and shook his head a little. “Let’s go. You’re cleaning the glue off both doors and changing out the birdfeeder. If you screw it up, you’re buying me a new one.” A harsh gaze fell over your shoulder. “After you unstick F/n!”

Han grunted, his groans and whines a feeble echo of white noise along with the ridiculous passes he occasionally made on the way over.

-〤〤〤-

After spending an hour and a half watching Han unstick glue from around your house (after unsticking your hand from his face) and taking a trip down to the hardware store for a new birdfeeder that 100% came out of his pocket, you sighed, trudging yourself through the front door and collapsing onto the nearest sofa by a front-facing window. You leered, observing Han shuffle up his own walkway and exchange harsh words with his friends before they all piled inside.

That bastard. He was always coming after you, ever since you first moved into the neighborhood. After the first week of assaults (from moving day) you’d asked the other neighbors if any of them had any bad experiences from house 117, but they all gave a generally same response: “Who, Han Jisung? Oh, heavens no! He’s such a nice boy! A little quirky, sure, but such a nice boy! ...Are you sure it wasn’t a raccoon or a stray cat?”

Heh, yeah. Like a stray cat was capable of impersonating your friend to have the locks on your house changed. Didn’t they have to do security checks for that stuff?!

Speaking of locks, the sound of keys ricocheted from your left, and you turned your head to see F/n enter...very strangely. They looked spooked, their eyes wide as they turned their head this way and that, creeping into the house like an Egyptian wall painting.

“Is the cost clear?” they asked. “Is he gone? Nothing’s missing? Nothing��s amiss?”

“Relax, F/n,” you said, scratching your head. You desperately needed a shower, but that had been rather hard with the pipes spewing nothing but Mr. Pibb for the past three days. It’d apparently be a fourth until they cleared out. “The menace is gone, back to his evil layer. I made sure he cleaned up his mess and got him to replace your grandmother’s birdfeeder.”

F/n scowled, back to normal as they tromped into the room, throwing their bags down. “She made that birdfeeder from scratch, Y/n. With her own two arthritis riddled hands, that birdfeeder may as well have been an ancient relic. It was one of a kind.”

“I know, I know,” you insisted, peacefully trying to calm them down. “Just relax. I got it under control and taken care of.”

“You said that last time. Now look at the place.”

You looked around. “...It looks spotless. Han actually did a really nice job with that extra work he put in.”

“Well it wasn’t before! ...Wait, you let him into the house?!”

Whoops. “Only to do some extra chores. To make up for outside. And many other times he’s screwed us over.”

Your friend grabbed the sides of their hair, practically seething. They regarded you like you’d gone insane, and they were just on the brink. “Y/n have you lost your mind? Are you stupid? I thought you were smart! What was that 3.5 GPA for?!”

“Hey, GPA isn’t everything. It’s just a matter of getting on a teacher’s good side and paying attention. Also, I’m aware that...that may have not been the best move. But it’s fine!” you insisted, now following your friend into the kitchen. “I was watching him the whole time. He didn’t leave my line of sight once!”

F/n opened the fridge, glaring perplexedly. “...Not once?”

“......” 

You thought. Oh wait...well…

You smiled sheepishly. “...Actually...ahaha...he may have asked to go to the bathroom once…”

F/n’s jaw dropped. “And you let him?!”

Your hands found their way into the air. “What was I supposed to do, F/n? Follow him into the bathroom? That’s creepy and gross and uncalled for.”

Your friend grabbed a beer from the fridge, slamming the door shut after. “No, Y/n. You tell him to go next door and use his bathroom.”

“But what if it was an emergency?”

“I think he can hold it.”

“But what if he couldn’t?”

They paused just beside you, giving you a harsh glare. “After all he’s done? I’d say that’s a real shame and another mess he’d have to clean up.”

“F/n--!”

“NO, Y/N,” Your friend of twenty-odd years turned to you, making it halfway back to the front door. “You don’t get it! It has been five years--”

“Five months.”

“...It has felt like I have had my guard up for five years. I can’t relax in my own home. I can’t relax at work, I can’t relax at school-- I can’t relax anywhere!” They polished off the beer, crumbling the can and tossing it aimlessly into the kitchen. You ducked, the can soaring over your left ear and colliding with a kitchen cabinet. “URGH!”

They grabbed their bags, beginning to march out. You were faster, sliding on sock-clad feet across Han-polished floors to beat them to it, blocking the exit. “F/n, listen. Please. I agree it’s bad, but I think you’re overreacting just a little.”

“Overreacting?! …” S/he crossed his/her arms, glaring at you skeptically and in disbelief. “Okay, fine. Which bathroom did he use?”

“Huh?”

“Which bathroom?”

You swallowed, thinking again. “...Uh...the upstairs one.”

F/n deadpanned. Cold and hard. “Great. Thank you for that. All my school supplies are up there. My office and workspace is up there. That’s where I sleep, Y/n.” You blinked. 

“You sleep in your office?”

“URGH!”

They pushed you aside, storming into the wide, open world. Hysterically you followed, snagging your keys off the side table by the front door and making sure to lock up behind you. “F/n- ...F/n wait…! Ah, stupid locks…!”

“Don’t follow me, Y/n!”

“WAIT!”

“I SAID DON’T FOLLOW ME!”

From the corner of your eye, a silhouette of dark brown hair and overly-white teeth made its way toward your property line. “Hello F/n, Y/n.” The careful fall breeze blew the shade from his eyes, where evil and mischief still resided. “Having a little back and forth banter, are we? A disagreement, perhaps?”

Han-bleeping-Jisung. Your vision narrowed, a scowl aimed directly at him. When he was around, it’s all you could focus on. Your senses heightened, and not in a good way. He couldn’t be trusted.

You shouldn’t have let him into your house. Your sensors were picking up on something. He seemed too happy for someone that was just forced into doing chores in a house that wasn’t their own. And willing so…

A hot vibe was residing along the back of your neck, between your shoulder blades. A sinking, sensationally bad feeling. “What can we help you with, Han?”

“Oh,” he piped, brows raised. “We’re on a single name basis now. That’s rare.”

F/n cast him a dark look and continued down the sidewalk to their car. You sighed, trying to relax and having little success; F/n was right, it was hard to remain calm with a hellion next door. “What do you need?”

Han Jisung shoved his hands in his pockets. “Need is a strong word. I need a lot of things. Food, water, air--”

A groan escaped your lips. “Fine. Forgive me. What do you want?”

“Hmmm…” He smirked, listing his head. “I want a lot of things, princess. Depends what you’re referring to.”

You’re pretty sure you could hear the gag coming from F/n’s car as they started the engine, shifting into reverse. Han chuckled, letting you know he heard it too.

“Alright, fine.” He held his hands up in surrender. “You caught me. I came to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“......” He pursed his lips. “...I may have gotten a bit carried away and...well, I couldn’t resist, really. But I was thinking and, maybe it was in bad taste. Since Hyunjin did break your grandmother’s bird-thing.”

A rustling came from the bushes. “That wasn’t me! That was you!”

Han cringed, turning over his right shoulder. “Shhh!”

You faltered, zoning in on Han’s shrubbery. “Who is that? Is that Hyunjin hiding in your flowers?”

Han rolled his eyes, tossing...some junk from his pockets. A coin or something. “I told you not to say a word!” 

Blonde hair revealed itself from the viburnum bushes on Han’s property. “Cattywampus.”

“I SAID TO SHHH!”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Oh, so when we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word. But now that we’re probing Y/n for information, all of a sudden, it’s a word!” 

The air left your lungs, quite dramatically, and you took a step back farther into the safety of your porch. “...What is he talking about? What information?”

Tensions spiked like never before. Han simply groaned. “Dammit...thanks a lot, Hyunjin.” He turned to you with a sour face. “Yeah, okay, whatever, just...I wanted to know when your birthday was.”

He shrugged, trying to pull off the most innocent, blow-it-off look possible. You weren’t buying it. “What were you saying before? What did you do to my house?”

“Oh yeah,” He clasped his hands behind his back, sending another classic trademarked wink your way. Hyunjin freed himself from the viburnum flowers, along with Fox-face, who’d gotten himself tangled up in the next-door rose bush; he tripped over an illy placed hoolahoop and ran into Hyunjin, the two of them taking turns removing literal thorns from their sides. “I left you a present inside.”

I left you a present inside.

I left you a present inside.

He left you a present inside your house. A surprise. A bad one. You had invited him into your living space, your relaxation hub where relaxation was scarce, and gave him just enough alone time to leave something behind.

Something terrible. Something rotten.

Han Jisung was no longer looking like Han Jisung to you; what you saw before you was his true form: a plotting, overzealous, sadistic little impish demon of a man, no...a demon pretending to be a man. Someone like Han Jisung couldn’t possibly be human. There was no love at all in his heart.

“F/N!” You yelled, chasing after them as they drove down the street. “F/N, WAIT! STOP THE CAR! PLEASE!!!”

You could feel Han Jisung’s eyes as he trailed you all the way down Maple Street, his friends watching as F/n hit the brakes a hundred feet shy of the stop sign and let you clamber in the back. 

“Step on it.”

S/he nodded, slamming the accelerator and getting the two of you safely out of Dodge. “I’m going to a friend’s house. I have to return a few things I borrowed before Han Hellion ruins them,” They looked over their shoulder. “Where are you headed?”

Your eyes glared proudly through the rearview mirror. F/n drew back, nervously looking between you and the road unassured.

But there was nothing for it. They could yell and pitch a fit at you later. Today, this very moment, everything was going to end.

“The craft store,” you said. “And you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“We’re taking our house back.”

“......”

The car rolled to a stop at the cross section of Water and Runway Boulevard. If it was the friend you were thinking of, F/n would have to make a right here. Your local craft store was the opposite direction.

With a unanimous nod through the rearview, the two of you made a left down Water Street.

-〤〤〤-

Hobby Lobby had to be your favorite store, next to Fye’s Music Records where you occasionally went for your music collection and your favorite restaurant. ...Though a store wasn’t really a restaurant, and vice-versa.

You and F/n scoured the many aisles of arts and crafts, decor and gifts, candles and knick-knacks, searching high and low for everything on a messy-scribbled list the two of you put together in the parking lot. Revenge was going to be so sweet. Total bliss.

“Buckets?” A young employee repeated back to you. “Yes, let’s see, they should be near the back of the store, on the right-hand side. If you pass the glitter and pipecleaners, you’ve gone too far. I believe they’re on Aisle 13.”

“Thanks,” F/n said, grabbing your wrist and dragging you behind them. They almost seemed more excited about this whole revenge-war than you did. “Aisle 10...Aisle 11...Aisle--”

S/he stopped, pale-stricken. “What is it?” You tried peering around the corner. “What’s wrong? Are they sold out or somethi--”

Your heart nearly stopped. There, in the middle of the aisle, stood Lee Felix, perusing a wide selection of glitter glue. A bucket (not a basket) hung from slack fingers, carrying a barrage of other craft equipment as well as a plastic bag from the Home Depot next door.

Some kind of rage was flooding through your system. You could sense it in F/n as well. The two of you were in sync, fed up with the Hellion Clan’s crazy antics and batsh*t ideas that only brought you pain and suffering. Enough was enough.

You practically shoved your friend aside. “LEE FELIX!”

Felix jumped, startled, frantic, eyes zooming in on you like a deer in headlights.

Then, unlike a deer in headlights, he ran.

“AFTER HIM!” F/n cried, shoving the list in their pocket. S/he ran farther towards the front of the store to block the entrance, while you followed in hot pursuit of the freckled boy’s trail.

Your phone buzzed as you ran, and without taking your eyes off your target you shuffled it out of your purse, slamming the receive button a little too hard. “What?!”

“He’s going towards the back of the store! He’s heading for the emergency exit!”

You gave a quizzical look toward your friend’s voice coming out of your phone, then back at your target’s backside. “What? How do you know that? Where are you?!”

“Look up. Aisle 1. Holiday crafts.”

Carefully your eyes scanned the tops of the shelves near the entrance, and after doing a double take on a statue you found F/n squatting among some Santa Claus and Christmas angels, a pair of high-grade binoculars in their mits.

You had no idea when they’d gotten those. “Where did you get those from?! How the heck did you get up there?”

“That’s not important right now! Just SEIZE HIM! He’s getting away, run faster!”

With an aggravated grunt you hung up, shoving your phone away and pushing your legs to hit the tile twice as hard. Some twenty feet in front of you Felix squeaked, making a surprise turn down Aisle 2 and knocking over a stack of decorative boxes. You cursed, calling forth your skills from high school gym to hurdle yourself over the monstrosity and skid to a temporary halt before barreling down the half-storage half-Christmas decor aisle. 

“He’s getting away!” F/n yelled. “Move!!!”

“Why don’t you help me?!” You called back. Felix made a 90 degree turn, charging farther back into the store in the opposite way you were anticipating; unless…  

A store manager suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle, holding her hand out to stop you. “Excuse me, I don’t think so; there���s no horseplay allowed in the store.”

Though she tried to grab you, you dodged like a badass, perrying right, then left, then spiraling after a mop of retreating orange hair down Aisle 7. “Can’t! Sorry! I’ll pay for this later!”

“I’m sorry?!”

“Hold that thought!”

The sound of static and muffled voices crackled behind you as the manager called for backup, but you didn’t care. This would all be over once the little coral pipsqueak was in your grasp; you’d make sure to make him sing everything that was going on.

“LEE FELIIIIIX!”

Somewhere on the opposite side Felix squealed, either running into something or barricading another path to ensure his freedom. You slid to another halt, straining your ears to pick up on the sound.

Maybe you could sneak up on him. You were getting pretty tired, and running all over the store wasn’t a very good strategy for either side. Tiptoeing down Aisle 6, buttons and sewing equipment, you held your breath, carefully peering down both directions of the aisle.

Empty, minus a mom and her kid. You dropped down on all fours, crawling to the next aisle-- except--

“Ow!” you hissed, pricking yourself on something sharp. It was a discarded sewing needle.

It gave you an idea. After sucking on the injury a moment, you snagged the discarded object, pinning it to the side of your bag. 

You hopped to your feet and gathered the strongest thread and yarn you could. After diving into a pile of fabrics when a few security guards walked by, you got back to work setting up your ingenious idea. A little thread here. Some fabric there. A weight right here…

You quickly sewed (loosely) a few strips of fabric together, finally finishing your creation. “Sorry, this aisle is closed right now,” you said to a few customers, spreading slime over each end of the hall. It was showtime. “I’m ready,” you told F/n, uttering the words through your phone.

F/n had done well to keep their disguise as an oddly-put Santa, peering through their binoculars when no one was looking. “Okay. I sort of lost him after the cops started lurking by here. Let’s see…”

Another curse left your lips. “He didn’t leave, did he?”

“No, I didn’t hear the doors open or close. He’s gotta still be here somewhere…..aha!” Their cry made you jump. “Found him!”

“Where?!”

“Opposite side. Aisle 18. He’s hiding around the picture frames.”

“Dang it,” you groaned, “I need him over here!” You looked around hesitantly. “Can you get him over to this side? I’m on Aisle 7. Additional Sewing and Craft Supplies. Fabrics, yarn, etc.”

“I’m scared to leave my post, but…” F/n sighed. “...I guess if you have a plan, I can chase him that way.”

“Great, okay. Hurry.”

“Roger.”

You hung up, taking another deep breath. Waiting. Ducking when the cops circled back around.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar battle cry from the other side of the store, followed by a man’s scream. The security guards and management started racing that way, but by the time they’d get there the source would be long gone…

Because he was headed straight for your trap. You scaled to the top of the aisle, keeping low with a blanket of fabric over your head as you watched Lee Felix weave in and out of craft stands and passing customers, buzzing toward Aisle 7 like a bee to a honey hive.

“RwARGH!” F/n cried, their Santa disguise flying with a full-powered shove. Felix went plunging for the nearest aisle, your aisle, and the moment his sneakers hit Elmer’s Color Slime Kit, he slipped, spinning out of control right into the giant DIY net you created. Yes! Score!

“HIYAH!” You screamed, jumping off the aisle shelf and tackling him. Gave over. You’d won. 

Felix squirmed and fought with all the strength he had left in him, his abs, his arms, his quads, but alas, twice his body weight from you and your friend combined was more than enough to stop him. He gave out with a long sigh just as an employee rounded the corner, crying for assistance.

You were out of time. Tying his hands behind his back and bundling the rest of the fabric around him, your friend threw a couple twenties from their pocket at the young man before the two of you slipped out the emergency exit.

“You’re going to tell us everything!” You demanded, carrying his torso. Felix scowled, rolling his eyes. Despite his obvious anger, he was sweating bullets and looked rather afraid. 

“I’m not telling you anything. You made me drop my stuff.”

“You can go back for it later. F/n, open the door.”

F/n shook their head, placing your captive’s feet down and unlocking the back of their car. “Nuh-uh. He’s riding back here.”

“In the trunk?!” The boy cried.

“In the trunk.”

F/n was dead serious. You stifled a laugh, even if it was kind of mean. Felix whined and bowed his head as the two of you placed him inside, F/n smacking a bow on his head that’d stuck to them during the chase.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

The two of you slammed the door shut.

-〤〤〤-

The moment light hit your captive’s eyes, he squinted, groaning from the bumpy ride (as F/n insisted on hitting every speed bump and pothole). Lifting the boy on the count of three, he made sure to cry out for help- “HAN!!! HYUNJIN!!! JEONGIN!!! I’M OVER HERE!!!”- but, as it was expected, F/n simply dropped the boy on the driveway and threatened to stomp over a...delicate area...before smirking at his wide-eyed response and stuffing the bow in his mouth.

“Um, F/n…” You muttered, hoisting your prize up the porch steps, “don’t you think maybe you’re being too-”

“Don’t,” they warned, casting you a glare. “I’m not being too anything. These jerks deserve way worse.” They shifted Felix’s weight in order to allow you room to open the door. “Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna torture him or anything. Just ask a few questions.”

Felix gave a sigh of relief.

“...We can figure out what to do with him after that.”

...He took a sharp breath, beginning to sweat.

Inside the house the two of you tossed Felix onto the couch, running around the lower level to gather equipment before shifting him to a dining room chair. You were adjusting his bindings when the phone rang, F/n scampering off to answer it after sharing a look.

They smirked at the familiar caller I.D. “Y/n and F/n residence,” S/he answered in an overly-pleasant tone. “How may I help you?” Quickly they pulled the phone away, placing it down on speaker. The two of you, and Felix, glared at the voice coming out from the other side.

“We know you have him,” Han’s voice echoed throughout the living room. He sounded serious, demanding almost, sending a shiver down your spine. That was new. “What do you want?”

“Oh, what do we want?” F/n asked. They scoffed, peering out the blinds on the opposite side of the fireplace, just next to the kitchen. Directly at Han’s estate. “That’s something you don’t hear everyday.”

Han huffed, sounding disgusted. Suddenly, Felix erupted, spitting out the bow you’d forgotten to secure. “HAN! HAN I’M OKAY!!! BUT I LOST THE STUFF AT--”

Frantically you pounced, stuffing a fistful of Kleenex in his mouth. A chorus of anxious whispers filled the other line from Jisung and his goons, before Han silenced them and got back to business.

“Felix, if you can hear me, it’s okay. I need you to take one for the team right now until I come up with something.”

Ironically and unneeded, Felix nodded, as if Han could see him. You and F/n rolled your eyes. 

Suddenly, a loud splat! sent them squealing backwards. 

Your jaw dropped, watching rotten egg dribble and creep down your immaculately-just-cleaned window. Felix chuckled, falling on a sour note after you elbowed him. When two more assaults hit, you ducked for unnecessary cover behind Felix, F/n plastering themselves against the fireplace. 

“What do we do?!” you whispered, cringing every time an egg bomb made contact with the glass. What if by some crazy law of nature those things actually broke the window and leaked into the house?! It could take days to get the smell out. Heck, given that it was right next to the fireplace, and you had yet to test the installation of the seams...it’d likely start leaking into the house within the coming hours.

The pelts were slowly getting louder, rising in a horrifically drawn-out crescendo. “GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK!” you heard the goons chanting.

Were they on the roof?! You couldn’t bear this much longer. Your house was being eggified. Sullied. Disgraced. Finally cracking under the pressure, you flew some hand signals F/n’s direction that didn’t really mean anything and army-crawled to a yet-to-be-ambushed window, examining the battle situation outside before rolling back to your feet and sprinting for a backroom.

“Where are you going?!” F/n whispered harshly. S/he and Han bantered back and forth a bit, his demands of Felix’s release rattling the warfront before you returned with exactly what you’d been looking for: a megaphone. Ah, camp counselor days.

F/n saw what you were doing and instantly, wildly, vehemently shook their head no. But you were taking matters into your own hands now. 

“Han Jisung,” you stated, loudly enough so your voice could travel over the massive egg-pelting outside. “Hold your fire and I’ll bring Felix outside.”

You waited a few seconds, and the firing stopped. Han’s voice practically purred over the speaker. Very disgusting. “You’re starting to see things my way. That’s good.”

“Oh yes. I’m most certainly starting to see things your way.” The phone lifted between your fingers. “We’ll meet on the roofs in five minutes. If I hear or see one more egg on my property, the meeting is off.”

“......” There was an uncomfortable silence on the other line. 

You tilted your head. “Han Jisung? No deal?”

Felix whined a few feet behind you. Han sighed, clearly hearing it. “...Fine. We’ll meet you there.” Click.

You tossed the phone to F/n, who scarcely caught it, juggling it a few times on nervous butterfingers. “Alright, look,” s/he said, pacing across the room and slamming it down on the receiver. “I don’t know what kind of cockameme scheme you have planned, but…”

You smiled. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

They sighed exasperatingly. “I’m sure you told yourself that when you let him into the house earlier, too.”

“......” You faltered, crossing your arms. “Touche. But this time, I really know what I’m doing.” With the utmost confidence and summoned strength you tilted Felix’s chair back, causing him to panic. “C’mon. Help me get this up through the attic.”

-〤〤〤-

Glitter glue. Hair dye. A bucket.

Truth be told, you actually did manage to go back and secure Felix’s belongings. It was around some point during the creation of the gigantic net at Hobby Lobby: F/n had seen them while running around, snagged it, and stashed the goods in the car without telling you. 

Now, you were going to use them against the enemy. If only you knew what the wrench from Home Depot was for… “Okay, listen up,” you stated, standing proudly on your roof. F/n stood at your side, Felix in between you two, still strapped to the dining room chair. Though the Kleenex were now gone, his pie hole remained shut...with Puffs. Not the good brand, F/n had said. “We have your friend, and as you can clearly see, he’s fine. We haven’t done anything to him.”

“Yet,” Hyunjin sneered, standing atop Han’s roof. He crossed his arms at Han’s right, Fox-face (Jeongin) on the left. “I fail to see how tying him up and stuffing his mouth shut equates to not doing anything.”

“Hyunjin, enough big words,” Han moaned. “We get it, you’re good at Scrabble, and you should have won. Lay off already.”

Hyunjin growled, making a face. From the opposing roof, you lowered your mic, extending your hand left. F/n glanced sideways, placing the box of hair dye in your hand. The situation on the other side swiftly grew stiff, everyone’s eyes watching you expectantly.

“Y-Y/n...what are you doing?”

It came out as more of a statement than a question. A fretful smirk played on the corner of your lips. “Oh my, what am I doing? …”

Yours fingers got right to work tearing open the packaging. Felix turned his head as far as his binding would let him, his eyes widening and brows sinking beneath his coral-colored bangs the moment he recognized the object...and the word permanent etched within a warning sign. “Mmm! Mm-mm mmm! MMM!”

“Wait, Y/n,” F/n said, reaching out. They suddenly looked hesitant, unsure. “We never questioned him first. Shouldn’t we…”

You paused, tossing the box and plastic wrap over your shoulder. With any luck, it’d blow into Han Jisung’s yard; if not, you could just pick it up later. “What, now you’re getting cold feet?” You huffed. “You’re the one that was getting carried away before. I thought you were sick of all this crap.”

“I am...I am. I’m just saying, maybe we should have pressed him for answers before running up here.”

“After they started egging our house?! What, was I supposed to wait for toilet paper to fly through the trees and spray paint to stain our front door?!”

“No, I’m just saying—”

“I’m done talking!” Your eyes narrowed, focusing on Han’s. He was staring right back at you, an intense look residing. “I want revenge. I want action. This ends today.”

You popped the cap off the bottle of murky green liquid, Hyunjin and Jeongin both seeming to lose their posture as the cap flipped through the air, bouncing to the ground below. They started to squirm, much to your delight; though perhaps a little overdramatic; but it was about time the other side felt the same pain and turmoil you had. It’d been far too long an unjust imbalance.

But Han held his hands at peace, calming his soldiers and taking a step forward; sending the imbalance back where it was, in his favor. He cupped his hands around that loud mouth of his. “Y/n!!! Listen to me, you don’t wanna do this! ...I-I don’t think, anyway!”

He seemed nervous. Flustered. You actually had Han Jisung, Hellion of 117 Maple Street, in a nervous fluster. 

The moment was sweet, rich, decadent and savory. In the air, a cool breeze blew by. 

“I’m sorry? What was that?” You lifted the bottle over Felix’s head. His whole body tensed, slightly leaning away like a magnet that didn’t attract. 

Han bit his lip, gaze flitting between your hand and the boy below. Behind him, Hyunjin and Jeongin watched with battered breath, biting their nails and covering the lower half of their faces. Han sighed, suddenly waving his hand behind him. “Jeongin, you shouldn’t see this. Cover your eyes. I don’t know if I can stop her.”

The boy frowned, shakily turning from Han’s voice back to you. “I-I can’t, Han...it’s too horrible, but I can’t look away.”

“Then get back inside. I’m sure Y/n will at least allow that much.”

Raising his brow at you in question, you carefully gave a single nod, watching the young fox-face go. Jeongin had never done anything to you, except for maybe participate in the egg-throwing debacle eight minutes ago. Otherwise, as far as you could tell, he was clean, just a bystander in Han’s antics.

As the roof door shut above Jeongin’s head, F/n gave you a worried look. “Y/n…” s/he said, turning to you sideways. “...Something’s not—”

“Shhh!” You spat. Your hand holding the bottle teetered towards a horizontal slant. “Not now. This makes things easier. One less groupie to worry about.”

“But Y/n—”

Felix could practically sense your movements, starting to squeal. “HAN! Please! I have an interview tomorrow and I don’t think they allow unnatural hair!!!”

F/n grunted, crossing their arms at being ignored. You listed your head to match the angle of the bottle. Revenge was so sweet. “Well, Han?”

It felt like an eternity went by. Everything was still, calm, the only noise to be heard the rustling of the trees. A distant clicking that was probably just the other neighbor’s cat. You felt like you were in a Shonen anime, where the characters face off for episodes at a time with nothing but empty heated stares and uselessly repeated banter (usually flashbacks).

“......” Han Jisung swallowed. “Okay, Y/n, stop.” He sighed. “...You win.”

A heaviness released from your chest. You...won? That was it? Was he really just surrendering right now? No surprise counterattack? No negotiations?

Instead, Han Jisung and his last remaining sidekick glared pitifully in your direction, like all hope had fleeted from their grasp. Meaning… 

You won. You actually won... 

The biggest smile took over the lower half of your face, so happy you could have cheered, overjoyedly so, kissing your friend’s cheek. You squealed in delight, tossing the bottle in the air and not really caring where it landed, so excited, so stoked, so—

“Ow!” a young man’s voice said.

Gasp. What was that?! That didn’t sound like Felix or...your friend...that was...wasn’t...

“Y/n!!!”

You whirled around, just in time to see Jeongin standing at the height of your roof, stuffing your friend down the ladder. He paused, similar to how Felix had in Hobby Lobby; that deer in the headlights look; and with terrified effort kicked F/n down the attic, hopping in and letting the door drop after him. 

Laughter could be heard bellowing along the wind, a hurricane billowing your direction. You whirled around, flabbergasted, horrified to see Han Jisung with that coy smirk on his face, that evil glint in his eye, the long-legged Hyunjin doing a memey sort of dance, as the two of them laughing it up at your expense. Even Felix, still bound to the chair, was…

...Well, actually, he looked rather annoyed and a little pissed. “HEY!” he griped, stamping his feet. “What happened to releasing me first?! I thought that was part of the plan!”

Plan…? …… 

“You mean…” You glared expressionless. “This was all setup...from the beginning? Even Hobby Lobby?”

“Duh,” Hyunjin piped, giving you an incredulous look. “We saw you and F/n heading that way, so I called Felix while Han coached Jeongin on the art of...sneaking onto other's property. We knew the two of you were probably at your breaking point, given how you were screaming all the way down the street…” He shrugged. “We figured you’d try to retaliate. It was too good to pass up.”

“......”

Anger wasn’t enough anymore. You were downright enraged, seething...and also, a bit heartbroken. A lot heartbroken. It was all planned. Your revenge was just another part of their game. They anticipated it, adjusted to it, even arranged it. It was all for not...and, what’s more…

Now they had F/n. The Fox-faced demon would be scampering out of your house and into the devil’s layer at any minute.

But he’d made a fatal mistake. You still had one of their own in your grasp.

With the utmost vexation and irritability you screamed, grabbing the bottle of hair dye from where it got caught between two shilling panels and tore the whole lid off, dumping the entire bottle into Felix’s hair. Han and Hyunjin froze in the middle of their victorious dance ritual to watch in horror as Felix screeched, trying to shake the substance out and make any feeble attempt he could to get away. You ripped open the glitter glue next, aiming it right at his scalp.

“Give F/n back right now or I’m adding glitter. Lots of it.”

“......”

Han Jisung and Hwang Hyunjin just continued to stare at you dumbfounded. Because they didn’t respond, you emptied the entire container, not caring if it seeped into the boy’s eyes as you dropped everything else for the attic door. 

“OH SH*T! MY EYES! MY FACE! YOU GUYS SUCK! AHH—”

The roof latch clicked behind you.

Flying down the ladder and around the hall you ran with all your might for the front door. Surprisingly enough, however, Jeongin was having a tough time getting there himself, wrestling with F/n for a position that allowed him to keep them quiet while having the freedom to move quickly. Unfortunately for him, F/n wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Let...go…! Get…off…...ahh! Y/n!!!”

They were wrestling at the end of the hall, just above the stairs. You pushed yourself harder, faster, ready to pulverize this kid you once found cute and adorable.

Something was off, though. You noticed as you got closer. The way they fought— it was almost too carefully, like they were trying to avoid hitting something.

You found out too little too late. F/n’s eyes widened. 

“Y/n, no, look out—!”

Fwoosh!

Your foot tripped over a wire, and the three of you went tumbling upwards.

You couldn’t believe you fell for the same trick twice.

-〤〤〤-

“Hold still,” Hyunjin groaned, clawing at Felix’s bindings. The boy practically refused, squirming with all his might.

“I’m holding still! I can’t see!”

“What does that have to do with being still?!”

Felix fumed.

Han Jisung made his way to the top of the ladder, rolling onto his back to catch his breath. It wasn’t like he wanted to drive Y/n to do this. Rather, he was just having a little fun, passing time, and essentially, getting to know her. 

She was the girl he thought about spending quite a bit of his life with, after all.

He turned his head sideways, taking in the view of the mountains, the small forestry area, the big city on the other side. Dang it, he knew Y/n’s roof had a better view of the area. “Both of you...quit whining...for a sec…”

He fought to catch his breath. Normally he thought himself to be in pretty good shape, but maybe eating a whole cheesecake and slacking off last week for that Netflix marathon put him back a few steps. Diagonally above him, Hyunjin sighed, removing the last of Felix’s restraints. “Okay, there. You’re free now.”

Felix stood, immediately rubbing his shirt over his face and stretching his arms out wide, then his legs. He looked around. 

“Something wrong?” Hyun asked. Felix began to sweat, visible from a mile away.

“Oh, gosh, you guys. I still can’t see. I think I’m legally blonde.”

“......” Hyunjin blinked. “You mean legally blind? Legally Blonde is a movie.” He glanced up at his sparkling dishwater-green hair. “Also, your hair’s green now. An ugly green. And shiny. Too shiny—”

“Both of you shhh,” Han griped, sitting up sideways. He pushed himself up all the way, stumbling diagonally as he hiked up toward the other side of the roof. “Has Jeongin come out yet? Where’s Y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Felix spoke, swatting at his surroundings. “I can’t see anything.”

“He obviously wasn’t talking to you,” Hyunjin piped. He leaned over the edge, examining the front porch, then the lawn. “...I don’t know either. I didn’t hear the front door but, then again, I couldn’t hear anything with Whines-A-Lot back here blubbering so loud.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood today? Normally you’re really sweet and chill. And why is everyone attacking me all of a sudden?! I’m the one that agreed to be the bait of this operation! Me!”

“Okay, okay,” Han waved his hands. He really hated being the responsible one, but with these two at each other's throats and Jeongin nowhere to be found, he really had no other choice. “Felix, go inside and see if you can find Jeongin. Or Y/n. Anyone.”

Felix scoffed, throwing his hands in the air like a tossed salad. “Oh, yeah. Send the blind guy in. That plan always works. Makes total sense!”

“Oh, right...uhh, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin scrunched up his face. “No way. I’m not going in there. Breaking and entering is not going on my personal record. Pranks are fine, but I’m not violating the law. That’s your department, Mr. Fifteen-Unpaid-Speeding-Tickets.”

“......” Groaning, Han made his way to the top of the roof, kneeling just short of the peak to pull the lever. However, the door wouldn’t budge. “...It’s locked.”

“Locked?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Locked.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shoot, why would she stop to lock the door? Now wh—”

“HAN JISUNG!!!”

All three college boys froze. Crouching, they whipped their heads around wildly. Even Felix. “What was that?!” He asked. “Was that Y/n?!”

“HAN!!!” Another called. Smaller, lighter, yet contradictingly more masculine. Hyunjin gasped. 

“That sounded like Jeongin!”

Then, suddenly, all three missing voices meshed together, the chorus dark and booming: “LET US OUT! LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin jumped to his feet, kicking and pounding at the door. “Quick, open the door! We have to rescue Jeongin!”

Han’s jaw fell a little. “What about Y/n?”

“What about her?!” He grunted, hitting the door harder. “Jeongin is our first priority!”

“I thought you didn’t like breaking and entering,” Felix sneered from the back, still waving at the air like a recently-blind person would. His elder tsked, scowling.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s life is in danger! Han, what the hell kind of trap did you put in there?!”

Han blinked, trying to process. Everything had gone South so quickly, curved in a direction he wasn’t expecting— he couldn’t think. His mind drew up blanks. Never in his thirteen years of pranking history had he ever not been in control of his own crafty work. 

Now his work was playing a joke on him. “Han! Hello?! Earth to Jisung?”

“...I…”

“What did you do in there?!”

“......” He swallowed, barely regaining his composure. “I set up another net. Just a quick one, like the one from earlier today.”

“What?!” Hyunjin roared. “But that took me all morning! How did you do it in five minutes?!”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I did it in four.”

Hyunjin deadpanned, smacking a hand over his face. “‘Kay…how did you manage to pull that off?”

His superior in the art of mischief fell back on his behind, staring out seamlessly at nothing in particular. Obnoxiously calm for the circumstances. “I’ve been sneaking into her house every now and then when she left the back door open. I’d set up a small part here, or a spring wire there, just small stuff out of the way that no one’d notice. They’ve hardly been home with midterms going around.”

“......” Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. “Han, there’s no way they wouldn’t notice or not accidentally set something like that off until now.”

Han turned back to him in earnest. “I just set the final wire down this afternoon. The activation one. One of them— probably Y/n— tripped over it.”

“...If that’s true, then…”

Another sonorous from down below reached the canopies above: “LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin dropped back on all fours. “LET US IN!!!” he cried, pounding on the hardwood door. “Jeongin, buddy, it’s going to be oka—”

“Come on!” Han said, leaping to his feet. He grabbed Felix by the wrist, tugging the two along behind him before making a crash landing for the bushes. No time to waste now. He needed to get his act together, take a leap of faith that, maybe, if he played his cards right, Y/n could see him in a whole new light.

It would be a long shot. If he remembered to jump from the right spot, anyway. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” Both boys screamed, clinging to each other’s sides. They hit the shrubs, bouncing forward and rolling into Y/n’s front yard.

“...Was that a trampoline???” Felix asked. Han scoffed, shoving the two off of him.

“I planted an emergency escape device in her bushes last week, just in case.” He dusted himself off, screwing his head on straight while jogging to the front porch. “What do I look like, stupid or something?” 

“......” Hyunjin watched him cross to the front door, lying upside down. “Do you want us to answer that?”

“...No.” 

Han rang the doorbell. Stamped his foot. Remembered all house guests and tenants were currently tied up at the moment, slapped himself, panicked. He banged his fist against the door. 

“Y/n?! It’s okay! Daddy’s going to fix this!”

Hyunjin made a noise (he was full of noises), tromping up the steps while Felix rolled himself around in the yard, trying to figure out which way was up and what he should do with himself. “Did you just call yourself—”

“Yes, now shut up.” Han dug around in his pocket, pulling out a key. “Heh heh heh…” 

He jimmied the lock, twisting and turning the key this way and that. But the door wouldn’t budge, not even an inch.

“Sh*t!” He grabbed his hair. “Why isn’t this working?! I made copies of her keys three weeks ago!”

Hyunjin glared sideways. “You changed out her locks two weeks ago.” 

Shoot, that was right. Han kicked the door, fuming. “Dang it! ...Ow!” 

He was spent. Gone. Energy depleting. And now, his foot hurt. Spinning around he banged his head against the door, sliding down to sulk on his backside. 

He hadn’t meant for things to go awry. He’d just wanted to mess with Y/n, see what made her tick, have some fun. Find out what she liked, what she didn’t like, maybe get up the nerve to ask her what she was doing for dinner next Saturday so he could mess with the food at her favorite restaurant and force her to come to a candle-lit dinner in his backyard instead, where he’d have her second-favorite takeout waiting on plates of gold he’d “borrowed” from Hyunjin’s aunt.

If only things would have worked out that way. “LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!” the house called.

Hyun and Han shared a pitiful look, plastering themselves to the walls and door. They had no choice. There was nothing left. “LET US IN LET US IN LET US IN!!!”

“HAN JISU— …” 

Quiet. That was strange. What was it quiet?! What happened?! What could have—

...Oh no. What if…!

“DON’T HURT JEONGIN!” Han screamed, pressing his nose to the glass. “PLEASE! Y/N F/N PLEASE HYUNJIN WILL KILL ME IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO HIM!!!”

“WHAT?!” Hyunjin yelled, pressing against the glass as well. “Move over, I can’t see! WHAT ARE YOU FIENDISH PEOPLE DOING TO HIM?!”

There was no response. Han began sweating profusely, feeling his heart ready to burst in a bad way. This was it. It was over. He’d have to call the cops to have them released, and then Han would probably go to jail for twenty-seven misdemeanors and a couple felony charges. Not to mention those unpaid speeding tickets.

Chink. Clunk. Creek.

A force against him gave way, the front door magically opening. As Han and Hyunjin fell forward, a blind, sparkling, green-haired man smiled down at them, standing at the other side.

-〤〤〤-

The clamouring coming from your front door set you on edge, wiggling and slashing at the ties that bound you. And F/n. And Jeongin.

The three of you piled on top of each other in an awkward heap, you being fortunate enough to have flipped on top. “Ow! Y/n, get your foot out of my eye!” F/n cried.

Apologetically, you shifted your weight, trying to give them room in the small net. Jeongin huffed as you did, making the most cumberous and uncomfortable face as you shifted your bottom over his backside, close to his head. “This is your fault for sneaking in here and trying to kidnap F/n,” you scolded, only feeling a little sorry given the circumstances.

He blushed, perplexingly so, carefully trying to claw his way to a corner that didn’t exist. “I, um...I’m sorry…”

Like that was enough to get the three of you out of this arrangement. Rolling your eyes, you focused your attention on the front door you could just barely see, tuning your ears to adjust and pick up on anything.

“What are they saying?” F/n asked. You shrugged, huffing and puffing disorderly.

“I don’t know. I can barely hear anything. They’re whispering. They keep looking over here, though.”

“Who opened the door?! How did they get in here???”

F/n was currently squished with their head facing the opposite direction, explaining their heighted insecurity and naggingness. You sighed, squinting and rocking your weight in order to make the small flexible cage sway to better see around the corner. “I think...Felix let them in. He must have used the back door or something.”

“Son of a b*tch, Y/n!!!” F/n quietly fumed. “This is why I always tell you to make sure both doors are locked! You never think to check the back door and it drives me crazy!!!”

“I know, I know okay?! Calm down! You’re gonna draw attention!”

“HAN!!!” Jeongin suddenly screamed. “FELIX! GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!!!”

Both you and F/n panicked. “SHHHHHHHH!!!”

He regarded the two of you like you were crazy. “Just five minutes ago you were screaming too!”

F/n hissed. “Yeah, well that was five minutes ago, and this is now!”

Jeongin sighed. “Listen, this is really uncomfortable for me, especially because you’re sitting...entirely too close to me,” he spoke, “so how about I make a deal with you two?”

“No way. I don’t make deals with demons. Or vipers, or monsters, or Fox-faced devils that sneak into our house and try to kidnap me!!!”

Jeongin sighed again, letting out a slight hiss of annoyance at the end. At the base of the stairs, Han and Hyunjin started making their ascent, Felix stumbling around a bit with a bandana now over his eyes before following after them.

“Oh shoot,” you whispered. “Here they come.”

Making his way around the net once, Han paused right square before you; and there it was, that evil flirtatious wink, tongue sweeping over his lips scarcely so. “S’up, gorgeous?”

Shoot me. I want to die.

Han poked your nose, making a little annoying sound effect and laughing when you teetered backwards, swatting away at the germs he left on your face. “Aww, I think someone doesn’t like their situation very much.”

“Lay off. Get us out of this stupid thing and then get the hell out. If you don’t, I’m calling the cops.”

Han chuckled and slapped his leg like you were just the cutest little thing to him. “Oh, alright, calm down princess. You’re just sour over falling for the same trick twice.”

It burned you how much truth there was to those words. You would have spit at him if F/n wasn’t at risk of being in the line of fire. “Just shut up and get us out of here. Take your friend with you.”

Tangled up behind you, Jeongin sputtered; you could feel him roll his eyes. “Gladly,” he muttered.

After admiring your pissed-off look for a few seconds, and Han taking a few selfies for his own selfish gain, Han and Hyunjin got right to work, snipping wires here, tugging at rope there. Eventually, after a few moments of unblissful trepidation and embarrassment, the net lowered gently, falling lifelessly about a foot above ground. 

The three of you groaned, F/n having the wind knocked out of them for a second. Scampering and shoving off of each other, you turned away the moment you found your legs, brushing yourself off and walking down the hall a few paces. Your feet prickled with numbness, then faded and blood rushed through. 

When you turned around to check on F/n and kick everyone else out, Han Jisung had already found his way to your face. “Hey there, gorgeous. All better?”

You scowled most irately, placing your hands on his chest to push him off and startling yourself when he wouldn’t budge, and your hands just...stayed there. “Get out of here. You got us out, now you’re no longer welcome.”

“Oh, was that all you needed from me?” He smiled. Almost tenderly. Or maybe it was, you didn’t know. “I’m hurt, Y/n. I thought maybe we could...talk more. Get to know one another.”

“What?!” You tried to see around him, but he mirrored your every step and movement. When you pulled your hands away, he latched onto your wrists, placing them back. His fingers smoothed over the backs of your hands, intertwining with yours. You gulped, a feeling in your gut exploding.

“This is nice,” he said softly, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “Isn’t it?”

It most certainly was not nice. Not nice at all! ...Yet, you were having quite a bit of trouble telling him that. His hands were so soft and...rigid...even the small calluses that sprouted along his palms and outline were somehow oddly alluring, inviting you to stay. 

You shivered, bristling all over. No, no. Get ahold of yourself Y/n. This can’t happen. I can’t go down like this. 

Shaking your head you shoved yourself back instead, running two steps to the right...and slamming gently into the adjacent wall. Gently. Softly. Softly slamming.

What the hell, why was everything with Han Jisung so soft all of a sudden?! You bore your eyes up at him, seeing as he was now just...inches away from you...again...g-getting closer…

His nose brushed right up against yours. A breath caught in your throat, begging to scream. Everything else in your body was. He had slithered himself to press up against you.

You’re pretty sure, even if you couldn’t feel it, your face was the darkest shade of red right now. Han undoubtedly noticed too, simpering just a fraction from your lips. “What should we do now, princess? Should we…” He inched your waist forward. “...go next door?”

Next door. Next door, where the hellhole of disasters had started. 

...Something about that line just didn’t sit right with you. Feeling as if the whole moment had been ruined (and good gravy you had to get out of this), you shimmied yourself a bit of wiggle room and shot your knee skyward, wincing as a howl of pain rang out in your ear. You kicked Han back, making a run for F/n…

...Who was again, gone. Everyone was gone.

Turning around, Han gave you a childish salute, that flirtatious wink following him all the way out the front door. You couldn’t do anything. Just observe him leave in shock.

Until you heard a thump from downstairs, and raced to find Felix feeling his way around the kitchen. 

“Now, I know there’s a backdoor somewhere...it was in here when I came in…”

You bore your eyes into him. Smirked.

Five minutes later, his whines echoed all through the house and down the porch steps.

-〤〤〤-

It may not have been high noon, but that didn’t stop Hyunjin and Fox-face Jeongin from turning on an old western showdown score. 

You stood on your side of the property line, Felix rebound though now standing at your side. If he was miffed about his hair and the overzealous glitter drawing attention to it, he didn’t say anything. Possibly because being temporarily blind was pulling all his attention away.

On the other side, about ten or twelve meters from the line, stood Han Jisung, in all his hellion, dark-profiled glory. F/n was bound and gagged beside him, looking like a tick about to pop. You’d never seen that vein before, throbbing above their forehead. Hyunjin and Jeongin observed from afar, amongst the safety of shade and porch railing.

You lifted the megaphone you’d brought back with you from the roof. “On the count of three,” you instructed, gripping Felix’s sleeve tight. 

Han Jisung cackled, or his eyes did anyway, a sparkle of humor at play. “Alright. Hostage exchange on three.”

“Okay…”

You both paced exactly twenty-something steps until you were only two feet from the line.

“One…”

“Two…”

“...Thre—”

“Wait.”

Your mind did a little flip, attention spiraling upward. “What?”

The hellion next door smirked. “I have one condition.”

“Oh?” You sputtered. “So do I.”

“Ladies first.”

You deadpanned. “Stop intervening and disturbing my life and F/n’s sanity and I won’t call the cops.”

He laughed, a very hearty, joyful sound. It sort of...made your heart spin. “That’s fair. I can agree to those terms...if you agree to mine.” You scoffed.

“And what would that be?”

Han Jisung smiled. Brighter than the sun. For once, it was almost as if he was revealing a side of his persona to you he’d kept locked away all this time; he suddenly appeared to be genuine, sincere, and oh-so benevolent. Not to mention handsome. “Go on a date with me. Saturday, at five.”

“What?!”

The world came to a crash. Everything just seemed to stop, the birds even dropping like flies to gawk at the enigma that was Han Jisung. Behind him and to the left, Jeongin and Hyunjin stared at each other in bewilderment. Felix muttered some kind of disbelief beneath his breath. F/n looked like s/he really would pop.

“Mmm?!” They shrieked. Han chuckled, ruffling his hair away from his face and casting squinted eyes out over the neighborhood. 

“Yeah, uh...I’ll pick you up at five, if you like. I mean, you have to, because this is a condition. My deal. Where we’re going is a surprise, but I can give you a hint.” He leaned forward, twitching his nose a bit. “There’s a lot of action going on in the color department, and it usually gives me an allergy attack. But, I figured you may enjoy watching my face fall apart.”

“.........”

Slowly, you adjusted your gaze over to F/n. They were shaking their head wildly, though limitedly, so as not to tip off anyone. 

“.........” You turned your face back to Han Jisung. “...Make it five-thirty. I have an errand to run that day.”

He bit his lower lip to keep from smiling too much. “Deal. Okay, on three. One…”

“Two…”

“Three.”

You each pushed your captives over at the same time, Felix and F/n stumbling forward over the property line. Hyunjin and Jeongin raced down into the lawn while you quickly got to work untying and freeing your housemate. 

S/he turned and looked to you with the utmost confusion and disappointment in their eyes. You smiled, sadly, and turning away watched as three of the four boys embraced and spat at each other, Hyunjin and Jeongin poking and teasing Felix about his hair, and Han Jisung watching you back with stars in his eyes. Once a hellion, it was as if a great fog had lifted over the valley, and now you could see he was both day and night. A myriad of sunlight, and a mischievous moon.

“You’re not really going on a date with him,” F/n scolded, walking in sync with you up the porch steps and in through the front door. You waited until they were safely inside and halfway to the kitchen for another drink, waving and even winking in Han Jisung’s direction. It caught him off guard, and you snickered at his confused stare. 

“We’ll see,” is all you said, shutting the door behind you.

-〤〤〤-

Saturday, 5:25 p.m.

Your house mysteriously felt like the Island of the Lost.

“F/n! Have you seen my hairbrush?!”

Running back and forth in front of the TV, up and down the stairs, rummaging through both bathrooms, F/n sighed, annoyed at having their early-evening talk show interrupted. They set the TV on mute. “What are you looking for? Your hairbrush?”

You nodded, heading back towards the upstairs bath. F/n jumped up from a commercial break, following you.

“How did you manage to lose your hairbrush? Sheesh, Y/n, you’ve been forgetful all day.”

You turned toward the mirror, staring worrisome eyes at the curlers in your hair, the sloppily-applied two minute makeup job on your face. F/n noticed as well, giving a small pout as s/he crossed their arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Where are you going, anyway?”

Uh-oh. “Hmm...?”

You pretended not to hear that. F/n blinked, their face falling to an unimpressed state. “I asked, where are you going?”

“......”

“......”

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Crap. It wasn’t five-thirty yet!

F/n turned toward the sound, their brows lifting in minor surprise. “Who could that be? Are you expecting a package or anything?”

They began wandering in the direction of the staircase, but you cringed, throwing yourself as a blockade. “Ahahahahahahaha! …” Sweat. “...I-I’ll get it. You should get back to your show!”

F/n gasped, pushing past you and gracefully making a sharp left just a few feet from the door. Phew. 

You peered around the corner, trying to make out the silhouette through the foggy glass. 

Tall-ish. A bit on the short side. Skinny? Seemingly masculine.

It had to be him. Panic struck you like a bat out of hell, scrambling to the bathroom and ripping the curlers out of your hair. You fought through three bottles of creams and mascara while juggling your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth, rinsing, spitting, and finally flipping your hair down, shaking it loose and flipping back over.

Oh yeah. Messy-chic look. Perfect. With a touch of gloss (or lipstick) you smoothed out your casual-dressy outfit before skipping downstairs and slipping on your favorite dress shoes at the door, purse slung over your bodice.

This was it. You discreetly shifted your eyes to the left. F/n was still inthralld in their talk show. Now was your chance for a clean getaway without any awkward accusations or encounters.

Taking a deep, measured breath, you gingerly opened the door, blowing it out on the exhale. Han Jisung stood in all his new-lighted glory, his back turned to you as he examined the neighborhood, waiting.

You gave a small cough, stepping out and locking up behind you. Han turned around, his eyes widening when he saw you. “Whoa...uh…”

“Yes?” Your gaze traveled down to the flowers in his hand. “Are those for me, or an apology to F/n?”

You both laughed, Han thrusting them forward a bit forcefully. An awkward color painted a ring around his face, across his ears and along the curves of his cheeks. “Uh, b-both, I guess. ...But, mainly for you.”

He was nervous. For real this time. You smiled, taking the small bouquet and burying your face into the petals. You inhaled deeply. “...Mmm...they smell really nice!”

You beamed. For maybe five seconds. After that, a spout of water soaked your forehead.

Han Jisung pressed his lips together, trying his darndest not to laugh. His eyes avoided you entirely, observing everything but your face. A moment later, he bolted, signalling for his groupies to turn on the sprinklers. Coffee rained down on both of your lawns, dyeing both sides murky Vanilla Latte.

You chased him down the porch steps, through the caffeinated shower, laughing.

-〤〤〤-

“...And that about wraps up our show for today!”

F/n flipped the TV off, turning their gaze to the window. Is it raining already?

As they approached the window, their jaw fell. They opened the window. “Y/N!!! HAN JISUNG!!!”

...It was no use.

Pulling up a chair, they fell to their knees, observing the bizarre weather in a moment of acceptance. They extended their mug over the windowsill, sighing as the caffeinated shower refilled their morning latte.

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

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[luobingmeis]

maybe i’m my own greatest fear (a taz grad/fitzrain fic)

A/N: i'm still trying to get the grasp of writing taz grad fic, but after episode 6 i couldn't not fic this. also my brain just keeps bouncing back and forth between loving fitzroy/argo and fitzroy/rainer so i guess i multiship now!!! reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

also title from sorority noise’s “art school wannabe”

summary:

“This promotion? Great, wonderful! A villain? Not so good.”

“And… why?”

“Because I’m not one of the bad guys?”

(Fitzroy goes to Rainer's dorm to talk about his "new assignment" and instead realizes that he can't avoid talking about his feelings and fears any longer.)

read on ao3!!!

---------------------------------

Rainer’s dorm was charmingly her. It was in the space between messy and tidy; the floor was spotless and the bed made, but stacks of books and jewelry and papers (and maybe a small skeleton or two, though he was never actively looking for those) covered the surface of every desk and dresser. The door off to the side, which was to remain locked until Rainer chose her permanent hench, was covered in posters and drawings tactfully placed, and a lone calendar filled to the brim in a quill she charmed to write in whatever glittery color she desired.

Very charmingly her.

Fitzroy had rarely been here long enough to actually pay her decorum any mind. Most of the time they had alone was spent on the outskirts of campus, or in the minutes they had between classes; more often than not, them “hanging out” involved at least three other people venturing to a much more crowded place.  

Still, though, he couldn’t quite stop his feet from walking to her dorm. Rainer had no roommate, no hench, and, well… Hieronymous told him to keep his program change a secret, but when has he ever been able to keep a secret, anyway?

“I half expected you to already be at the tavern,” Rainer was saying, her back to him as she sorted through one of her notebooks (probably looking for the report she’d have to write on their field experience, or more so a report on how promising the kicks and henches seemed). “Maybe even bickering with Argo over who’s paying for drinks.”

She looked around the high-back of her chair and shot him a smile.

“Please, Rainer,” he said, hoping that his smirk and posture maintained his poise and not the thoughts that were racing through his head. “I’m enough of a gentleman to know to pay for my friends’ drinks.”

“I know you are,” Rainer said, softly, and Fitzroy was thankful that it was then that she turned back to her desk so she wouldn’t have to see the red rising in his face.

Of all he expected to find at Wiggenstaff, he didn’t expect Rainer.

Or, more so, of how much he expected to detest Wiggenstaff, he didn’t expect to find someone who gave him a reason to consider sticking around. He had Argo and the Firbolg, of course, and he appreciated his friends (perhaps even best friends, though Fitzroy hadn’t had any prior experience with that level of friendship), but what he had with Rainer was… different.

Which only made everything more complicated, because of course it did.

“I actually came here to talk to you,” he continued, looking up at the small lights she had hanging with the tapestry around her bed. 

Rainer snorted. “No, really? I thought you came to talk to Gary.”

Fitzroy rolled his eyes, barely trying to hold back a smile, and was about to make some witty quip about Rainer’s own when he was interrupted with a, “Hey! Rainer! See you’ve got guests up ‘ere!”

Both their eyes flashed to the now-animated gargoyle in the corner of Rainer’s room, and Fitzroy suddenly felt like he was trapped in a tank at the reminder that not only were the Garys listening, but also a hivemind . That shared information. Information that could be private.

“Yeah, Gary, it’s-”

“Is there a way that he could actually be turned off?” Fitzroy asked, thankful that his voice remained level. “Apologies for the interruption but this is, well-” He swallowed, forced a smile “-this is kind of important.”

Rainer, spinning around to face him, arched an eyebrow before, with a flick of her wrist, a small, nearly-translucent bubble formed around the Gary.

“Silence,” she explained. “My Gary isn’t a nark so it’s probably fine.”

“Perfect,” Fitzroy nodded, allowing himself a relaxed grin.

“And I’ll admit, Fitz-” and she tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair “-You’ve got me kinda nervous here.”

“Well, no, you see- it’s fine, really.”

“That’s a lot of filler words for fine.” Still, she smiled and cocked her head.

“A lot of filler words for great, actually!” Fitzroy assured, to her and himself. “I’ve actually moved up in the so-called hierarchy here! Our dear Headmaster wants to put me into the hero-villain tract!”

Rainer’s glee was almost enough to make Fitzroy think that perhaps this wasn’t the complete end of everything. “Fitz, that’s amazing!” she exclaimed, moving her chair closer in so that she could tightly grab his hands. “We can all have classes together! You and me and Buck and Rolandus and his crew—don’t worry, they’re really all super nice—it’ll be so much fun!” She then furrowed her brows, suddenly serious, and, if possible, she squeezed his hands tighter. “What about Bud and Argo, though? Where are they going?”

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” he said, smiling. “They’ll be coming with me! As my- well, we all have to talk soon, but I assume they’ll be by my side.”

“Oh, like sidekicks!”

Fitzroy then sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, grimacing. “And that , my dear, is when things start to get a little complicated.”

“What do you mean?” Rainer asked, frowning. “Don’t tell me- they’re not leaving, are-”

“Oh, no!” Fitzroy shook his head quickly. “No, not at all. They’ll be coming with me, but as… Well, you see, when good ole’ Hieronymous bumped me up, he didn’t… bump me up to being a hero.”

“Oh, so you’re a villain!”

Fitzroy was proud of himself for holding back a flinch. “Apparently so.”

“Oh, Fitz! That’s so cool! It’s honestly really fun. A lot of the professors are actually super cool, which is nice because some of the content , oh boy, and-”

Fitzroy worried his bottom lip, trying to hold back the nerves and… aggravation that bubbled up in him. “But-” he interrupted “-but do you see the… issue… here?”

Rainer paused, studying him for a moment. “No?” she finally responded, equal parts confused and suspicious.

“This promotion? Great, wonderful! A villain? Not so good.”

“And… why?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m not one of the bad guys?”

Rainer froze for a moment and, while she gaped at him and then over at the stacks of textbooks and notebooks, it was then that Fitzroy realized that, perhaps, he fucked up. 

Dropping his hands right back into his lap, she huffed and moved herself back. “Wow, Fitz, super cool.”

“Rainer, wait,” he sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” She asked, annoyance coloring her own voice. “Because, honestly, if you think I’m a bad guy-”

“No, it’s-” Fitzroy found himself fumbling for words as his eyes darted around Rainer’s dorm to focus on anything but the scowl on her face “-it’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“It’s just-” An exasperated sigh left him again and, in resignation, he threw his hands up “-the villains are the ones we fight against!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s we? ”

“The Maplecourts!” he exclaimed. Once, simply stating the family name would make one think of knighthood. “We’re- we’re a long line of knights who are trained to fight evil and that is what I am meant to do!”

“Okay.” Rainer pinched the bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes tight. “You know equating villains with evil is pretty archaic, right? Like, there are heroes who are capital-E evil who just, I don’t know, fudged the budget, and then there are heroes who are capital-E evil because they actually did some really bad stuff. Like, I know that you know that.”

His head fell back as he huffed again. “You’re not getting it.”

“No, I’m really not!”

Looking back down at her, he shook his head. “I can’t be a villain!”

“Why? Villains aren’t automatically bad people!”

“I know! It’s just- the Maplecourts- we’re knights! ”

It was Rainer’s own turn now to throw her hands up. “You can still be a knight!”

“But not really! ” He snapped, his temper beginning to creep through as he struggled to restrain his volume.

“Why, Fitzroy? Why?”

“Because- because everyone expects me to be a knight so that’s what I need to do and-”

“Enough about everyone else!” Rainer snapped back. “I don’t care about everyone else! Only you! So, what do you think, Fitzroy? Why is this an issue for you? ”

“I’m terrified that this is all a mistake!” Fitzroy finally rushed out, unable to find it in him to care that he was near shouting. “I’m terrified that my time here is just derailing the future that I’m supposed to be taking! And- And this place isn’t the worst, okay? Argo and the Firbolg are my best friends and I love you but I am also so scared that I’m going to get out of here and there’s going to be nothing left for me! My family isn’t going to want a villain, Clyde’s Knight School isn’t going to want a knight who fought against the good that they strive to maintain, and- honestly, it felt like this school didn’t want me either! I just don’t want to keep going from nothing to nothing while everyone else gets to have the lives they all fucking hoped and dreamed for!”

Fitzroy, his breathing almost as shaky as his hands, looked pointedly away from Rainer. He blinked quickly, trying not to pay too much attention to how his eyes burned and, instead, tried to take down his anger—at Rainer for seeing through him, at himself for letting his temper burst out—before his magic decided to go wild. 

He could already feel it thrumming through his veins, hot and chaotic, and the last thing he wanted was to destroy anything else.

He really didn’t like fighting with Rainer.

Suddenly exhausted, with every bone in his body weighing a ton, he let his head drop in his hands and roughly pressed his thumbs into his temples.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice much quieter now. “It’s just-”

He was interrupted by a hand rubbing gentle circles on his back, and he looked up to find Rainer sitting next to him. Quickly, he ducked his head back down. Rainer didn’t deserve to see him like this: a small, scared animal lashing out in a final act of defense.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, quiet and, in his knightly opinion, pathetically fragile.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Rainer said, her hand finding its place of rest on his shoulder. “It’s okay to feel lost, even. But also… don’t run away from opportunities just because they scare you. That’s not you.”

He let out a weak laugh and finally picked his head up, flashing her whatever he could muster of a smile. “It’s pathetic though, isn’t it? I’m trained to be at the front-line in battle and I’m- I’m losing my cool because of academics .”

“Don’t just dismiss yourself like that,” she sighed. “It’s not pathetic, and obviously you’re upset over more than just some classes.”

“I just…” He released a breath, shoulders sagging. “Not to be incredibly dramatic, but it feels like my life keeps falling to pieces.”

“And I wish there was something I could do.”

He smiled slightly and rested a hand on her knee. “You don’t have to go through that trouble for me.”

“Maybe not.” Rainer shrugged. “But I want to.”

Fitzroy swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.

“I think… I think you’re going to be okay,” Rainer continued. “I think things are going to be normal again, and I think you’re gonna like the new program-” Her voice then quieted “-Plus, being a villain isn’t so bad.”

The heat of shame rushed to his face and, trying to find the right thing to say to make up for that , he shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have said any of that to you,” he whispered.

Rainer shrugged with a half-hearted smile. “It’s okay.”

“No-” Fitzroy shook his head again, taking her hands “-it really isn’t.”

Rainer looked away for a moment, worrying her bottom lip. “I… well, okay, yeah, the whole villain comment hurt, but it’s- it’s fine.”

“But it really, really wasn’t okay,” he said, catching Rainer’s eye. “That was a major asshole move of me. You… you are nowhere near a bad person, Rainer. Not only are you a great person, a good person, you… you’re one of the best.” She smiled, a true one this time, and Fitzroy gently cupped her cheek. “It was unfair of me to… to generalize and take my frustrations out on you. And I- I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay, really,” Rainer said, placing her hand over his. “You’re forgiven.” 

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

A smirk dashed across her face. “You just might have to retake a class or two on chivalry.”

He gave her a smile. “A small price to pay.” 

Rainer’s smirk turned into a smile as well and, for just a moment, she studied him. “Are you going to be happy here, Fitzroy?”

He faltered.

If he had been asked that at orientation, the answer would have been short and simple: absolutely not. Happy? At Wiggenstaff’s when he was just attending Clyde Nite’s Night Knight School? How could he be?

Now, though, the answer wasn’t so easy.

“I want to be,” he finally said, sighing. “And, push comes to shove, I really do like it here. I have you, and I have our friends. It’s just… I want to be happy. But-” he scratched the back of his neck “-I think it’s obvious I have some stuff I need to work on. Nothing the school can fix… Honestly, I should be grateful to have this offer. It’s just… me-stuff, you know?”

Rainer nodded. “And we’ll be here to help you out. We all want you here, love you being here. I love you, Fitz. And I think you should take this opportunity. I know it’s not what you expected, but it can still get you a foot in the door. And… I’m not gonna pry, and I don’t know what I can do to help with all the family stuff and the Clyde’s Knight school stuff but… I think they would all just want you to be happy. Want you to do what you want to do. And if that’s being a knight, great! But if you end up doing something else and loving it? Then they should love that for you.” She then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “And… if anything, we’re your family, too. And we’ve got your back.”

Fitzroy smiled, and found himself very lucky to have Rainer in his corner. “I love you, too,” he said. “And I’ll do better next time at… actually talking instead of skirting around it.”

Rainer smiled, too. “I think you’ll be okay.”

“I’ll do it for you,” he said before leaning in and giving her a kiss. His hand rested gently at her hip, one of hers ghosting over the back of his neck and, when they pulled apart, he smiled. “You and a good grade, of course. As a villain, I probably have to do a lot of talking, right? Gotta freshen up on my monologuing.”

Rainer rolled her eyes with a laugh. “ So much monologuing. And you gotta do it with a hero, too. Buck’s the worst to do it with. He’ll do a monologue while you’re monologuing to try to out-monologue your monologue.”

“Well, I’ll just have to talk really loud, I guess,” he said, laughing, too.

“I think you’ll do fine.” Rainer smiled. “I think you’ll do good. Do well … and some good, too.”

Fitzroy took her hands back in his own. “Not as good as you.”

“Who would’ve known that you were such a sap?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said with a wink. “I have a reputation.”

Rainer smirked. “You once lost an arm-wrestling contest with a hologram.”

He scoffed. “That was supposed to be a secret .”

“That you told everyone!” Rainer laughed before leaning forward and kissing him again. “But I can actually keep a secret, so you’re fine.”

“Your confidence is greatly appreciated,” he said, “Oh, and! I was not supposed to tell anyone that I’m a villain now, either, so keep this on the DL as well.”

“Fitz!”

“But hey! Now that we’re gonna have classes together, we can pass fun, secret notes to each other! Dish the goss and share secrets!”

“We already do that!”

“Yeah but now we can be super sneaky about it!”

Rainer, shoving his shoulder, laughed. “I swear, if you make my GPA drop-”

“I would never!”

“I already have to deal with Buck trying to talk to me all the time! And sometimes Rolandus, too, when he’s feeling particularly fight-y… with Buck. So-” She jutted a finger at him “-I have my eye on you, Maplecourt.”

He winked at her. “I know you do.”

Rainer stared at him, shaking her head, though she was only able to hold off a smile for so long. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Love you, too,” Fitzroy said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before standing. “Well, I guess I have some roommates I need to, ah, break this news to.”

“Good luck,” she said, smiling up at him. 

“Much appreciated,” he said. 

With his hand on the doorknob, he gave Rainer one final smile over his shoulder. “See you around, my lovely partner in crime.” 

Rainer grinned. “Try not to get into too much trouble,” she said, shooting him a wink.

“I’ll try my best,” he said with a soft laugh before stepping out of her dorm.

#taz graduation #fitzrain #sir fitzroy maplecourt #rainer michelle #taz rainer #i had a lot of fun w/ this fic but im also real nervous to post it lmao #stuff i write

[rebelsofshield]

Far, Far Away Comics: 8/29/2020

Three weeks in and I’m already missing deadlines. Oh well, good thing there was only one comic last week. This week has double crossing bounty hunters and archaeologists and an explosively fun clone story.

Star Wars Adventures: The Clone Wars Battle Tales #4 written by Michael Moreci and art by Derek Charm and Davide Tinto

The ill-fated sons of Kamino get their time in the spotlight in this fourth installment of Battle Tales and it makes for the best issue yet. While previous installments in this loosely connected anthology series have centered on various guest stars from The Clone Wars television series, Michael Moreci takes a detour this week and offers a new tale with new clone characters.

We are introduced to Heater, a former clone deserter who has recently been brought back into the fold of the Grand Army of the Republic. He and several other clones who saw fit to leave the clone army are offered a chance at redemption by Commander Wolffe in the form of a sabotage mission behind Separatist lines. Heater and his other disillusioned clones troopers must learn to work together and also find trust in the Republic once more if they are to survive.

While the circumstances of Heater’s desertion are left maybe a little too vague, the fact that Moreci gets to play with new characters here adds much to the issue’s success. There’s a great sense of tension as Heater and his allies have to face a dangerous mission and also come to terms with their place in the clone brotherhood. While Heater is far from the first clone to realize that his position in the clone army is not an ethical one, it still makes for compelling storytelling. There’s also some suspense in that the expendability of these characters is written into the narrative. While Star Wars Adventures has never been particularly bloodthirsty, it does seem more than possible that Heater or any of his friends could meet a sad end here.

Visually, this issue is another standout. Derek Charm’s action packed and stylized battle sequences overwhelm the pages with explosions and blasterfire while Davide Tinto gets the meatier character drama creating visually distinct and expressive clones that each have clear and distinct personalities. While it may not be the most visually expressive of the Adventures line, it still makes for a great looking comic and continues to show that one of the strengths of IDW’s take on Star Wars has been the showcase of all ranges of styles and voices.

Fans of the clones will need to grab this issue. If you can’t wait until next year for The Bad Batch, this will likely hold you over in the meantime.

Score: A-

Star Wars Bounty Hunters #4 written by Ethan Sacks and art by Paolo Villanelli

For better and for worse, Star Wars Bounty Hunters feels like a comic written by a twelve year old boy. In some ways this makes sense and arguably even works. The iconic bounty hunters of the Star Wars galaxy are the closest things to living action figures that the franchise has to offer. They come with all manner of creative designs and lots of action ready tools and gadgets. At its best, Bounty Hunters feels like an opportunity to crash new and old figures together for flashy and dynamic fight scenes rendered by Paolo Villanelli. Issue #3 had the smackdown between Vance Beilert and Bossk and this issue features an equally fun brawl with newcomers Nakano Lash and Ooris Bynar.

As an action comic, Bounty Hunters isn’t half bad. The creative and iconic designs of its characters allow for big splashy fight sequences and Villanelli is able to render this moments with energy and brutality without the characters losing definition. It’s at times visually busy, but it does its job well and can even be a decent amount of fun.

The problems start in Ethan Sacks’s script. As a means for the above mentioned fight scenes to happen, Sacks’s storyline has been threadbare but doable. Years ago Nakano Lash betrayed a group of big named bounty hunters and escalated an interstellar crime war in the process. Years late she’s resurfaced and set off a race for vengeance. Few characters have yet to establish themselves in this blood chase though. Vance Beilert is only marginally more interesting than he was in last year’s Target Vader and the various other bounty hunters mostly exist to be badass. The two exceptions so far have been Lash, who has a familiar but empathetic goal, and the vengeful T’Onga, a woman looking for answers about her late brother’s passing. It’s disappointing then that Sacks’s script kills one of the two and violence against other women is a central part of the storyline. In a fandom that’s been increasingly hostile to women and people of color, the sort of shock oriented violence centered in Sacks’s script is regrettable and saps away much of the enjoyment out of the dumb, empty spectacle offered so far.  

Score: C+

Star Wars Doctor Aphra #3 written by Alyssa Wong and art by Marika Cresta

Doctor Aphra remains the biggest successes for Marvel’s comic tenure on Star Wars. Whether it’s through winning GLAAD Awards or the character spinning off into audiobooks, toys, and games, it’s been a long time since a comic originating character has created a following for herself in the Star Wars fandom.

Part of this is due to the boundless opportunities offered by Aphra’s character. She’s a refreshingly complex and amoral character that has her toes dipped into a whole host of different places in the Star Wars galaxy. Alyssa Wong’s tenure so far has looked to take the good Doctor back to her tomb raiding roots and so far that has been more than successful.

Wong peppers in all manner of creeping discomfort and dread throughout this issue. Although this is far from the first time that Aphra has tangled with ancient forces outside her control, the temples and dungeons of the galaxy have never felt creepier than under Wong’s hands. Marika Cresta sells this too with all manner of bizarre apparitions and traps manifesting themselves to haunt and torture Aphra and her allies and rivals. It’s not a full on horror comic like we’ve seen with Charles Soule’s Lando, but it takes a nice spin on the “Indiana Jones in space concept” that has been running for about five years now.

That being said, much of Aphra’s supporting cast this time around is in need of fleshing out. We’ve met all manner of new faces over the last three issues and unfortunately not many have been particularly memorable. It may be that Cresta’s character designs have been decidedly forgettable or just that the ensemble is so packed and primed for double crossing that it’s hard to really form much of an emotional connection with any of the new crew. Some revelations at the back half of this issue point towards an exciting new future for the title, but as of the moment Aphra may be riding a bit too much off the fun of its setting and the strength of its title character to establish a new identity for itself.

Score: B

#Star Wars #Star Wars comics #review #reviews #Marvel #IDW #Star Wars Adventures #The Clone Wars #Clone Wars #Bounty Hunters #Doctor Aphra #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #Michael Moreci #Derek Charm #Davide Tinto #Ethan Sacks #Paolo Villanelli #Alyssa Wong #Marika Cresta

[m00nslippers]

Jason is a clever bitch and I love him, in RHATO Issue #32

Okay now we’re finally moving Jason closer to the Winick version that I think is most people’s favorite Red hood--it’s not there yet, but we’re seeing the hints. The cleverness, the charm, the unrepentant sass. Oh yes, we are going places, I like what I see.

Let’s dive in here.

Whoever made that post about Jason not even needing a cover story about being dead to revive his identity was kind of prophetic because here his cover is basically, “So I wasn’t actually dead. no more details, that’s it.” Which is pretty dang close.

And I’m not sure how he managed any of this without Bruce or Alfred finding out but that is damn impressive. We know they didn’t know because we see Alfred’s reaction shot to seeing him on TV. If we don’t see him interact with a few of the other Gotham vigilantes, (or at least see a reaction shot of them all like, “What!? Jason?! The guy we had to physically blackmail to attend galas is running a casino with parties every night? That Jason?!) at some point I’m going to be pretty disappointed, to be honest.

Also, as we already knew from the solicitations and previews, Jason is taking over the Iceburg lounge and looking fancy while he does it. I love it. Jason can put on an act with the best of the batboys. Look at this well dressed man! And his hair! He has hair again, praise the Lord, hallelujah!

Completely unrelated note, that reporter has some really fancy cuff earrings or something and I’m jealous.

I’m validated for noticing Suzie Su was behind Jason in the previews. She and her sisters are part of his crew basically. It’s actually nice to see villains/characters return, too often they are just one-shot or one-note baddies but Suzie has been there since New 52 RHATO and she got a bit of humanization in the Annual when we meet her sisters. She’s not just some creepy fat lady that creeps on Jason, she’s a big sister who is trying to do her best for her family and I like that Jason acknowledges that and brings her and her family in on his scheme and even gets them out of the crime business sort-of by giving them mostly legit employment.

The way he has a bunch of ladies following him around kind of reminds me of Dick with the girls from St. Hadrian's a little bit. But they were all super into Dick and these girls don’t seem interested in Jason at all except as like a boss, which I like.

Jason, this is the kind of thing you should ask about! Ugggghh ~

Wingman looked older in the last page of the previous issue for some reason, maybe he’s died his hair or something. So we still don’t know what’s going on with him. I was hoping we’d get something, a hint but we’ve literally got nothing to go on here. I honestly think he has some kind of direct relation to Jason. Either he’s his dad’s mind in a different inmates body, or maybe a lost cousin or brother or something, or has something to do with the future like he came from there. It’s got to be one of those things, nothing else makes sense that I can think of.

LOOK AT MY BEAUTIFUL BOY! JUST LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT THOSE EYELASHES AND BLUE EYES AND THAT SMILE.

Anyone would be charmed. I think Jason is too much of an introvert to like this kind of public job exactly, but I also think he’d be good at it. Dick might be better, because he’s just a natural extrovert, but Jason is still up there. He’s a good actor, and he really cares about people so he’d take care of those he’s in charge of. Jason would be a good boss.

“Started from the bottom now we’re here,” that’s a Drake lyric.

Could these guys be bigger dorks?

Notice that Jason didn’t kill the guys that were causing trouble, he had Miggs (his nickname for Miguel) roll them off to the docks in a ball made with his powers and those dorks were totally right, the room he made was pretty gucci. You got taste, Miguel.These weren’t necessarily real bad guys, they were just punks, and Jason might be killing again but he doesn’t just kill any idiot that gets in his way or causes trouble.

Also, technically they might have been right about Night cheating, we don’t actually know how ‘legit’ the Su sisters are playing things.

I’m sort of torn on the way the colorist is depicting Miguel’s powers, like I miss the glowiness a little bit from New 52 Teen Titans. These look a little too much like normal bricks? But technically that might be better for Miguel, they can pass as normal bricks instead of a power when they have to. They looked clear or white before when the guys walked in there so maybe he can control their color/transparency and glowiness? I still would like to see them look glowy though.

A few things about Miguel: I think these panels illustrated pretty well what their dynamic is supposed to be. I know Jason called Bizarro his ‘friend’ but let’s be honest here, Bizarro isn’t Jason’s friend--he’s his little brother.

Jason compares Miguel to Bizarro and I think that’s key, he sees Miguel as like a little brother that he wants to help. He’s got powers that he doesn’t understand and people keep coming after him for them. I think with Miguel and Tim it was closer to a friendship of equals at least as far as Miguel saw. He admired and respected Tim as a leader and how he always seemed to know what to do, but in the end Miguel was older than Tim, he didn’t feel like he could completely lean on him. It looks like Miguel may have latched on to Jason in that way, since he has the bat-authority too and actually is older than him and a genuinely caring guy. And look at my boy Jason! He comforts and accepts him immediately, it’s so sweat.

Goddamn it, Jason is a good older brother! He’s the best freaking older brother, damn Bruce and the whole family’s bat-morals, man! You’re all missing this! He could have this with Tim and Damian and Duke and even Steph and Cass! He would love that! He would be so good at that! It’s a goddamn tragedy, is what it is.

Also it’s interesting how Miguel acknowledges the reboots, so are his powers related to reality-warping or something so he can sense it? Or it could just be more of this suggestion that a lot of people in the DC universe right now have memories from the previous continuity, so like it all kind of happened even if it technically didn’t type of thing. I kind of thought Miguel’s powers were energy projections made with his mind, like psionically, but maybe they are literally creating matter or something? I don’t know. I really need to read more New 52 Teen Titans to understand him and his powers.

And that line, “A loaded weapon in the hands of a confused teenager. What could go wrong?”

Wow, Jason, you really went there. Referenced you’re own crazy head-state when you went after Bruce in Under the Hood.

Jason is so self-deprecating, you guys.

“When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer. “ This is apparently a quote from Die Hard, because of course it is. Jason is literally Jake Peralta from Brooklyn 99 confirmed.

Ugh, Lobdell’s version of Bruce is just such an asshole!

First of all, Jason hasn’t ‘betrayed him’ not even once, he was emotionally compromised and broke their agreement because he was acting on those feelings. He made a mistake. And Bruce cared more about his rules than Jason’s intentions or feelings or any of the good will they’d fostered in the last year or two. He acts like Jason sold him out or lied to him, when he never did any of those things.

Also, I don’t think saying, “stay out of Gotham and never come back or I’ll throw down and toss you in Arkham” is another chance, okay? It’s not like Jason got anything out of that deal, it was just Bruce not wanting to go through the trouble of hunting him down outside of Gotham because he straight-up knew that he wouldn’t be able to!

That Pretty Woman reference...

The funny thing is, Jason is more like the character who says that line than Bruce is. Bruce, kicking Jason out of the bat-family, is the one who is making the mistake. He could have had an ally, had say in what Jason did, had some limited control over him if he’d just forgiven him or talked to him at all, but because of his pride now he has none of that.

Now this, this is my shit right here. JASON HAS BRUCE BY THE BALLS. By going public with his identity he’s effectively made himself untouchable by Bruce. He’s got the identity of every Gotham vigilante in his hands, and honestly I really doubt Jason would ever give them up, even out of spite or hatred, he never did before when he could have, (he didn’t tell Hush Bruce’s identity, he just didn’t deny it when Hush figured it out, and we’re not sure if that’s even canon anymore anyway.) but it’s partly Bruce’s own doubt in Jason that is keeping his hands tied! That and the fact that if even one of his kids is outted as a vigilante it really puts the suspicion on him.

But seriously guys. Smart Jason is what Iive for.

God, Jason calling him dad, but only because he’s ‘playing up the act’ of civilian Jason Todd, has got to hurt Bruce. Assuming Lobdell’s version of Bruce has any actual feelings of affection for Jason, otherwise it probably just grates.

Lol, okay, so the situation seems to be that Jason dropped in to the Iceburg lounge to pay Penguin a visit. Cobblepot went, “Oh no! That damned Red Hood is here, hide me!” Ran into his panic room and locked it and Jason was just like, “Well, isn’t this convenient,” and made it so he couldn’t get back out.

And then presumably gangster-rules applied and Jason just got all his businesses because he said they were his and no one wanted to argue? I guess? Lobdell doesn’t give satisfying explanations, you guys. This is a testament to that.

I’m not going to lie though, this is pretty satisfying.

Alright, so I’m really excited for more you guys. This is not a perfect issue, a lot of things are hand waved, Bruce is acting even more out of character than usual, and we still have no dang clue what’s going on with Wingman, but there are definitely things here I like, and i’m looking forward to more.

#Jason Todd #Red hood #Miguel barragan #Bunker #Wingman #Suzie Su #Su Sisters #Oswald Cobblepot #The Penguin #Bruce Wayne #Batfam #RHATO #Outlaws rebirth #Red Hood And The Outlaws #Issue #32 #Spoilers #but not the actual spoiler #meta #reviews

[brooklynislandgirl]

Tansy and Billy

All Hands || -

1. who wakes up first in the morning

She knows what the words ‘dog’s watch’ and ‘five bells’ means, but these are not written into her soul like they are his. It isn’t exactly the window-rattling clap of thunder that wakes her but rather the sensation of emptiness when she turns and instinctively reaches out to him in half-wakefulness.“Billy?” a hoarse whisper as she sits up, pressing the covers to her chest, fiery hair spilling down her bare back in rivulets of curls.He doesn’t answer her. His back is to her, limned by the lightning that creeps across the heaven. She isn’t sure if it’s rain or sweat that dampens his skin. It’ll be an hour before the sun rises in its fullness.“You have to go.” It isn’t a question.Nor is it a surprise when he simply turns and looks at her, blue eyes dark and as stormy as the sky outside, just before he nods.

2. who’s the first to fall asleep at night

He comes and goes like the tide itself, and she never knows when the Walrus will be in port again. It’s maddening at times and she now knows why they call it the Widow’s Walk. Why every scrap of news from other ships is so important.Days bleed into one another, a repetition of overseeing her father’s interests, dealing with the Guthrie woman and trying not to become embroiled with any of the local…politics. Most of the men who inhabit Nassau give her waters a tremble, and she is grateful that Father left Blaise to keep her company, but his skills with a knife are surely a mercy.She is alone in her room, reading by the soft candle light and beginning to nod off when the commotion begins down stairs. She puts the book down, takes up her robe and goes to meet the news. For a split second she is both amused and horrified to find him bent over a table, one dagger at his throat, three others pinning his shirt to the wood. ”Blaise, please. He…is an old friend. A...special…friend.” The young man makes a face but secures his knives back in places that will never cease to be a wonder to her, and courteously offers Billy his hand to get him back on his feet. “…’s m’m.”By the time the door of her bedroom closes behind her, his hands are already on her hips, sliding up her sides. Rough kisses, impatient and heady. Boots barely kicked off. He doesn’t part from her until long after she’s fallen asleep on his chest.3. what they playfully tease each other over

He holds her hat above her head, and even with a running start, skirts held up above heeled boots so she doesn’t trip, she can’t quite rise high enough to snatch it back as they make their way for a secluded spot on the shore.Covering him in sand as he lays chest down on the beach, dozing a spare lazy day away, building little houses on the foundation of his back and hiding some of the thin white scars she doesn’t like to think about.These are their halcyon days, the likes of which come few and far between, where she can forget the pirate and remember only the boy who used to climb her trellises back home, the one that was quicker with a daisy and a poem than a flintlock or blade. She takes hold of his hand in both of hers, barely able to encompass his palm. But her village is doomed as he rises and takes hold of her, an arm secure about her shoulders and her knees, and it’s off into the surf he carries her, laughter ringing out clear but shy amidst her shrieks.4. what they do when the other’s having a bad day

And so it’s happened. The discord between himself and that Silver man and Flint. It is as readable on his face as the way that face has changed. She brushes the backs of her fingers against the beard that has flushed out over the weeks and months that he has worked tirelessly in service to an idea of liberty and freedom from England’s crown. And this is how Nassau and Flint’s men ~his brothers~ repay him. She slips behind him with care, hands on either side of his broad shoulders, hard as marble, as steel. She can almost feel him swallow his drink as she kneads at the knots of tension.“The Americas,” she says softly. “We can take a ship and go far away from here and-”And he cuts her off with a hand that coils perhaps a little too tightly about her wrist. “I must see this to its bitterest end, Tansy.”He pulls her round, sets her on his lap, and his thumb grazes her jaw.“Then we shall. Together. Whatever that means for us.”He offers her a small smile, but it doesn’t climb so high that it reaches his eyes. He isn’t planning on coming back from this.Which will make it that much harder to let him go.

5. how they say ‘i’m sorry’ after arguments

“He sa-sai- Gates told me you were dead! Brought me Teeth!”Her fists slam ineffectually against his chest. Each blow as solid as she could make it but her voice is broken in her sobs. And all he can do is try to minimise the not-incredibly-potent damage, wrapping her up in his arms until she is crushed against him. Hands lodged in the fire of her hair until they are swallowed, the breath of her wafting across his chest.“No. Never. Even dead I’d still come back for you.”

“Don’t ever talk like that, William Manderly!”“I’m sorry,” he whispers against her hair. “I’m sorryImsorryImsorry.”

6. which one’s more ticklishHis thumb rubs against her instep, free of her boot, and she shakes her head.She grazes his knee with her nails and he merely slants her a blank look over his tea cup. He lifts her down from her horse, fingers scrabbling at her sides. She sniffs reproachfully.She dusts the back of his neck with the end of her braid, the silken soft hair not unlike a painter’s brush.Billy flinches and bites his lip but no… the laughter comes out all the same, deep and booming.She looks ever so pleased, and takes her seat at the table beside him, holding one hand out, cheeky smile on her lips. ”I do believe, Bosun Manderly, that as the winner of this wager, I am owed a total sum of one whole guinea, or its equal.””Oh I have your prize, Mistress Balmore.”She is smart. She’s up and running even if he does catch her on the stairs.7. their favourite rainy day activities

The world outside will perish in dark, grey walls of water, battering Nassau like a giant’s tantrum. Blaise given leave to seek shelter in town, advanced pay for food and drink and proper company should he desirous. The house is shut up, the windows boarded against the storm’s ferocity, a fire blazing in the heart, a few skins of wine lingering on the table beside lit candle.

And despite the chill, the feather mattress and rumpled covers are warm, soft like an English summer day. Tansy’s head rests on Billy’s chest, her hand half fisted below his heart, eyes closed and she simply listens to him.

“Dorothea then took out of her pillow-case a complete petticoat of some rich stuff, and a green mantle of some other fine material, and a necklace and other ornaments out of a little box, and with these in an instant she so arrayed herself that she looked like a great and rich lady.”

He’d been a voracious reader even as a child, and she thinks books were the first reason he’d taken fancy of her in their youth. She didn’t know he was capable of reading Spanish, though.“All this, and more, she said, she had taken from home in case of need, but that until then she had no occasion to make use of it. They were all highly delighted with her grace, air, and beauty, and declared Don Fernando to be a man of very little taste when he rejected such charms. But the one who admired her most was Sancho Panza, for it seemed to him {what indeed was true} that in all the days of his life, he had never seen such a lovely creature; and he asked the curate with great eagerness who this beautiful lady was, and what she wanted in these out of the way quarters.”

8. how they surprise each other

A flower left behind on her pillow. A knitted blanket for his hammock. A particularly heavy bag of flour that gets made into honeyed bread for the crew. Books and paper, quills and ink. A letter brought by ship weeks out. Coming to the docks to meet the Walrus when she comes in.Not the life she would have expected even five years ago, but the back and forth between them takes the sting of nearly two decades of existing on two different sides of the world.Today it is hair ribbons.Tomorrow, he’ll have a new shirt to wear for his men.You make of love what you can and sometimes it is what you wish.

9. their most sickening shows of public affection

Broad palmed and long fingered, his hands slap one another in full measure to the fiddle and fife. Drumming a rhythm for other dancers, his face split with the grin that belies the pain and hardship of sailing life. He sits on a barrel, long legs splayed before him and someone…she isn’t sure of this face, he’s new. Gunn? Maybe? Irish. Blue eyed. Young. They trade jokes. Something that makes his shoulders shake.Not one to mix with Max’s women, or to be as sullen as the Bonney girl of Rackham’s, she prefers this to the stifling civility of the Fort. None of this is anything at all like the polite balls held back home. She feels like a cat slinking in the alleys and draws her shawl closer over her shoulders.When he comes to Nassau, he leaves his ship behind and spends too few civilised hours in her home. Pockets plays silently with the powder monkey and the loblolly boy, both of them only a year or two distant from his tender age. Blaise doesn’t cluck his tongue at her like a proper chaperone, but he does move off to play cards with some of the crew, still close enough that an unguarded hand will lose a few fingers should anything untoward become of her. And despite the levity, she can’t help but to feel as though she doesn’t fit here, in his world.She’s about to turn away and misses maybe how Gunn nudges Billy’s shoulder and makes her escape less than noticed. His strides eat the ground twice that of any ordinary man with his sailor’s grace.

Weigh hey and up she rises…

He gives her a momentary bow, and cocks his knee in her direction, seeking her hand and before she can give answer he has her up in his arms, is spinning her out into the muster of men cavorting and dancing. She cannot help but laugh breathlessly as under the moon he kisses her.In full view.The rest of London society would faint dead away.She only clasps her hands to his jaw and maybe kisses him back.

#nolegacies #The Salt in my Bones|Billy Manderly #Open Seas and Hazy Skies||Billy and Tansy #Endless Circles over Time|The Women Beth has Been #Ten Fathoms Below|Black Sails Au {Treasure Island} #I am an Island|Nassau

[unapologeticallyjaylos]

jaylos prompt

title: i’ll admit i’m impressed

pairings: pre jay/carlos

ask: @always-late-for-tea asked: 

Ok so I like Really love BAMF!Carlos... Not sure if that’s enough for a prompt but I’d love for you to write something kinda like that with a sprinkle (torrential downpour) of Jaylos in it. 

warnings: mild description of a knife fight

---------------- 

“We can either do this the easy way or the hard way.”

Jay paused midstep, listening to the casual, deadly threat being issued one alley down. He didn’t recognize the voice, but it sounded lethal. Threats weren’t usually empty on the Isle of the Lost.

Figuring maybe he’d get a chance to score off of a scuffle, Jay inched forward, sliding silently along the wall to get a better look at whatever was going down a few feet away. He expected to see someone with a reputation - perhaps one of the pirates or even a member of Mal’s crew - standing over some pathetic kid who’d turned down the wrong alley at the wrong time. What he didn’t expect to see was two hulking guys - definitely belonging to the Gaston brood - at the end of a slim pocket knife held by an equally slim, lithe boy. The kid’s shock of white hair darkened at the roots, and Jay had a nagging sense of familiarity as he watched him eye the Gastons like a predator might size up their prey.

Cruella de Vil, Jay realized after a moment. Between the high cheek bones and the fur padded shoulders of the kid’s leather jacket, there was no way in hell that this boy belonged to anyone other than the mad de Vil woman.

“Still having trouble making up your mind?” the de Vil kid asked, pouting in mock sympathy. “That’s just too damn bad, isn’t it? Because not making a decision -” he launched forward and pressed his forearm across both of the Gastons’ necks, effectively pinning them to the wall, “- is actually making a decision. I’m gonna get those back whether you’re alive or dead, mark my fuckifng words.”

“Run home to your mother before you do something you really regret,” hissed the bulker of the two boys. He spit in de Vil’s face, and even from where Jay stood hidden in the shadows, he could feel the energy shift. It had been a dangerous move, and everyone knew it.

“I see.” The kid slowly wiped his face with his sleeve. “You have made a decision.” Lightning quick, his blade had replaced his forearm, and if Jay wasn’t mistake, he could see a few drops of blood beading up where the knife met flesh. Jay had never realized how skilled de Vil was with a knife, and even now, he felt a tiny bubble of admiration well up somewhere inside him.

Unfortunately, no matter how good this boy was with his blade, the thing wasn’t big enough to slice up both hulking Gastons at the same time. Now that de Vil’s attention was honed in on the spitter, Jay noticed the other one creeping out from under his loosened grip.

Shit, this kid is gonna get clubbed from behind if he’s not careful.

As the seconds ticked by, it began looking pretty bad for de Vil. His attention was too laser-focused, too completely honed in on slicing a warning stripe down his first mark’s cheek to see the way the second mark’s hand had begun sliding slowly down to close around a loose piece of pipeline.

Jay wondered if it was worth jumping into action for a chance to get his hands on whatever this kid seemed so intent on getting. His motives would be entirely selfish - it wasn’t like he actually cared whether de Vil got pounded or not - but whatever they were all fighting over had to be at least semi-valuable. Then again, none of them had disclosed what exactly the Gastons had stolen. It would be a risky move, and probably a stupid one. Jay had just about made up his mind to leave the kid to his fate when the second Gaston raised the pipe.

“Holy shit,” Jay muttered, his whole body tensing as if he were the one about to be smacked over the head. He braced himself for the impact, but it never came. Moving so quickly Jay had to blink several times just to be sure it happened at all, de Vil whirled around and caught the second Gaston by the wrist, twisting it. The resounding crack echoed up and down the alley, and Jay could only watch - completely stupefied - as both Gastons threw a few half empty packs of cigarettes onto ground and took off, bleeding and bruised.

Jay could count the number of time’s he’d been truly impressed on one hand. But this kid? Who looked even smaller as he knelt down to collect the boxes, his knife still fully brandished? Definitely impressive.

“You must be really hooked on those things if you’re willing to take on specimens like the Gastons all by yourself. ” Jay stepped out from the shadows, folding his arms.

Immediately, the kid straightened up again, his knife coming dangerously close to Jay’s throat. The cigarette packs had disappeared into his coat. “What do you want?”

“Woah, woah!” Jay held up his hands. “I’m just here to offer my services.”

“I don’t need your help,” the boy replied curtly, his fingers still curled tightly around his blade. “I can handle myself.”

“So I saw,” Jay nodded. “But you almost got double-teamed. Wouldn’t it be easier if you had a master thief to help you out?”

The kid appraised him slowly. “You just want a cut of the things I get.”

He wasn’t wrong. Three cigarette packs - even half-empty - counted as a damn good haul for a single operation in Jay’s book. “Maybe. But you could have a cut of mine, too. If you agree to an arrangement, I’ll play fair. Thief’s honor.”

“Thieves have no honor.” But the boy looked torn anyway, shifting from foot to foot and spinning his knife between his fingers.

“I saw what you can do with a knife.” Jay lowered his voice now, serious. “I work with Mal.”

“Everyone knows that,” de Vil answered, looking around as if the purple-haired fae might be lurking nearby, too. “You two hold the best territory on the island. Most of us spend our days avoiding both of you.”

“She’ll be impressed when I tell her what you can do.” Jay knew that Mal would look at de Vil very differently when she learned about this hidden skill of his. “Aren’t you like a genius, too? Always going to class and shit?”

At that, de Vil narrowed his eyes. “Why would either of you want anything to do with me?”

Jay didn’t really know how to explain it. He liked this fierce, small boy, especially the way he bared his teeth every so slightly when he growled at his marks, his quick reflexes, his wit. There was something different about him - a spark - that burned deep inside the de Vil boy. “People will underestimate you,” he answered finally. “You’d be an asset. Mal and I could use an evil genius on the team with a few good, sharp knives.”

Chewing his lip, de Vil finally lowered his blade a little. “How do I know you’re not just fucking with me?”

Reaching into one of his pockets - the hidden one in the lining of his vest - Jay pulled out a small, metal cobra charm. “Take this. When people see it, they’ll know you belong to me. To us. You’d fit well on our team.”

After a few more seconds of evidently labored, internal debate, de Vil finally reached out and took the charm. “I’m Carlos.” The boy stuck out his hand, the sweat on his upper lip becoming more apparent as he moved closer. It was rather attractive. “Carlos de Vil.”

And - surprising even himself - Jay reached out and shook the de Vil boy’s hand without even stealing his watch.

#jaylos #writing #my writing #jay x carlos #descendants #fanfiction #ask #answered #isle of the lost

[umbraastaff]

@merle-casts-zone-of-truth

(well, this got out of hand! i was intending to write this concept as a much shorter, not-shipping fic, but then i decided to use this prompt as an excuse to actually write it, so here we are i guess!!!  --oh, and using the last name Hadar comes from the ideas ive seen on your blog, ofc. hey i love that a lot and i had to give it a shoutout!)

Overgrowth [a sort of companion fic to Harvest, though you don’t need to read one to read the other]

★ ★ ★

On Tesseralia, they say they’ll give over the Light when John makes peace with the enemy.

The Light of Creation is right at their fingertips for the 30th cycle. All it’ll take is a conversation with the omniverse’s most enormous, threatening force.

“If there’s anyone in any plane who can do it, it’s you,” Lucretia says.

John smiles wryly. “Yes. If there’s anyone.”

“If you can’t make peace, get information,” Davenport advises. “But don’t sell yourself short. You’re good at this.”

“I’m good at this,” John repeats.

★

The first sign of the Overgrowth’s approach is widening cracks in sidewalks and rocks. Vines creeping up mailboxes. Farms yielding crops a little faster, fruits a little bigger. The sun feeling a little brighter.

★

John fixes his tie, closes his eyes, and wills himself into a deathly vulnerable space. He opens his eyes to a bizarre scene. It’s a beach, because he’s standing in the sand by the ocean, with waves that creep up close to his feet, then slide away just in time to leave them dry. Across from the ocean, though, there’s a dense forest, and stray trees permeate the rest of the environment: standing in the sand, and even in the ocean, swaying with the waves. They aren’t even trees you usually find near beaches.

The whole place looks like a collision. It’s as if a forest and a beach decided they both wanted to be here for this meeting, and they both followed through, with no coordination. There are two suns in the violet sky, too, as if to drive home the idea that it’s two places mashed together.

And John is standing across from someone else, in the sand, in the point of contact between these two climates. He’s a dwarf in a bright-colored shirt with a tropical print. He looks like a regular guy. Like a dad, even.

The dwarf squints at John, blinks a few times. “Huh,” he says, in a voice that’s too gruff, too earthy, too real to belong to someone at the center of a universe-consuming mass of plants.

“Hello, sir,” John says, forcing the bewilderment to keep out of his voice. “I am John Hadar. May I ask your name?”

“Highchurch. Uh, Merle. Highchurch.”

“Highchurch Merle?” John says, extending a hand. “A pleasure.”

“Other way around,” Merle chuckles, shaking it. “The pleasure’s mine! This is real weird, though. How’d you pull this off?”

“It’s something called Parley. A technique for peacemaking, which is what I hope to achieve with you. It ensures that the guest-- that’s you-- is perfectly safe. I invited you, so I can’t harm you,” John explains. He omits the bit where Merle can kill him, but he’s sure the dwarf will pick up on it. Then he adds, hopefully, “Question for a question?”

“You already asked my name,” Merle says, but after a beat where John’s trying to come up with a response, he grins. “Kidding! Let’s sit down. Then you can ask whatever you want.” He gestures past John, and so the human turns around to see a picnic table. He’s absolutely sure that wasn’t there a minute ago.

They sit down. John speaks again. “So, this place… I don’t recognize it, myself, but I’m wondering if it holds any significance to you.”

“Never seen anythin’ like it,” Merle says earnestly. “But I figure it’s, y’know, a metaphorical space. I’m from the beach, myself, always loved it. And the trees… I like ‘em plenty, too, but that’s gotta be more to do with my whole situation… and Pan. I’m a cleric, you know. Well, was a cleric.”

“Huh. Do you mind if I ask--”

Merle shakes his head, interrupting. “I get another question, pal!”

“Ah, yes,” John says, very worried that he’s going to have to give away (or come up with a lie about) important information.

“Do you like chess?”

John raises his eyebrows. “Oh, er, yes. I do. Very much.”

Merle smiles. “You seemed like the type.” He knocks on the table, and a square platform of wood rises from it, with a checkered pattern appearing as it does. Then, a boardful of chess pieces appears in their rightful places: John’s set is made of wood, and Merle’s pieces are all made of tiny, woven vines. “So, what was your question?”

“Oh, right. I was wondering, since you were a cleric before, how did you go from that occupation to… this?”

“Funny you should ask it that way,” Merle says, “Since I probably wouldn't be here if I wasn’t a cleric in the first place.” He taps the table gently in thought. “People from my church, they… they found out something big, and they asked me to explain it. I asked Pan about it. And this whole shebang sprung from that event.”

“I… see.” John nods slowly, taking that in. He’s grateful for the chessboard: a perfect distraction to pad the conversation and keep his big questions from seeming too frequent. “I’m afraid I don’t know which of these sets counts as white or black, so I’m not sure whether to make a move or wait for you.”

“Oh! Who cares. You go ahead!”

They play for a few turns in silence. Merle is very slow, but he’s very good, and they’re about equally matched in skill. Finally, the dwarf says, “You mind if we get rid o’ the whole back-n-forth thing and just have a normal conversation?” With a cautious nod from John, he continues. “What really brings you here? I can’t imagine trying to talk things out with the plant plane was your first solution, if I’m causing so much trouble for you.”

“Ha,” John lets out a hint of a laugh at that. “No, it wasn’t. I only recently learned this technique. We just figured that it couldn’t hurt to try talking, right?”

Merle looks him in the eyes, looks through his eyes. It’s uncomfortable. John likes to be in control of what people see in him, and Merle looks like he’s reading an open book. “It’s more specific than that.”

John blinks. “Yes. Well, there’s also the issue where we won’t get the Light of Creation here unless I make peace with you,” he says, and only after it comes out does he realize how much he’s said, too directly. It was so compelling, in that moment looking at Merle’s eyes, to be honest. Goosebumps prick the back of his neck.

“The Light, huh?” Merle moves his bishop. Whaddya need that for?”

John hesitates. “We’re scientists. Er, my party. We want to study it.” Each of the last few words has to be forced up his throat, burning his tongue just slightly as they come out.

Merle meets his eyes again, looking disappointed this time. Like a parent of a kid who stole candy instead of, John reminds himself, an enormous eldritch forest that suffocates whole planar systems. “You don’t have to tell me,” Merle says, “But please don’t lie. Not in such a lovely place.”

So not even half-truths work. And it’s not as if John can risk trying a charm spell on a man with so much power. He’s just going to have to play the game: be honest, and try to get more information than he gives. “My apologies,” he says. “I hope you can forgive my caution.”

Merle nods. “You want the Light to get it away from me, right?” When John’s only response is a startled stare, the dwarf continues. “That’s good. I hope you use it for something better than we do.”

John blinks, but as he’s trying to find the right question about that, he feels a pressure on his legs. He looks down to see vines creeping up from the ground, locking his feet to the earth. “Uh, what’s--”

“Oh, shoot,” Merle exclaims, looking under the table from his side. “I think our time’s up. Is it possible for you to come back later? A while later. I don’t want you to be endangered here.”

“Ah, yes,” John says quickly. “Nice meeting you, Merle.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice chat, get outta here!” the cleric responds, voice lacking any real annoyance.

John closes his eyes.

★

The Overgrowth’s second sign is the death of small plants on the forest floor as the shadows of the canopy overtakes them. It’s the sidewalks crackling, home gardens climbing up the walls and through the windows. It’s people getting ill from non-native plants releasing toxins they don’t have the immune systems for.

★

Smoke hardens back into John’s form, and he looks up from his place on the floor. Everyone is still here: the crew, and Oriana. She looks down at him, question apparent on her face.

Back in his element, John pastes a bright, relieved smile onto his face. “The Overgrowth won’t be bothering us anymore.”

The crew stands in stunned silence, and then they break into cheers, with varying levels or sincerity. Oriana takes a bit longer to convince, but John says everything he needs to, gets ahold of the Light, and returns to the Starblaster with his crew.

Davenport speaks as soon as the door shuts behind them. “Well done getting the Light. What actually happened?”

“I played chess with the Overgrowth. His name is Merle,” John says flatly. Six pairs of eyes stare at him.

“You played chess with plant hell?” Taako clarifies. “For real?”

“So there was a specific person at the center of it all?” Lucretia asks, already writing.

“Yes. And he used to be a cleric of Pan. I think… it seemed like godly power was involved in the Overgrowth’s creation. I’m going to ask more later.”

“What? Why not just stay there and get the rest of the info back then?” Magnus asks.

“The plants there started acting up, and he asked me to leave. I was worried I’d die if I didn’t, and then we’d have no chance to get this world’s Light.”

Davenport nods. “Good call. Give it as much time as you think it needs, then get back in there.”

Lup finally speaks. “He didn’t kill you. Like, he actively tried to not kill you. That’s nuts.”

“Yeah,” John says.

★

In the Overgrowth’s later stages, plants start to animate. Roots wrap around the foundations of buildings and crush them. Vines overrun the streets and valleys. Touching any of them gets you dragged underground, locked in a dirt tomb until the world ends.

★

Since it’s only a month to the end of the year, and the heightened activity of the Overgrowth might distract Merle in later conversations, John decides to Parley at the next reset. He finds himself in the same place, with waves a little calmer than he remembers. This time, the picnic table is already in front of him, and their half-finished chess game is waiting. And on the other side of the table…

“Merle,” he says.

“John! Nice to see ya. Thanks for waiting.”

“Of course,” John says. “May I ask what cut our last meeting short?”

Merle takes a moment to think. “Hard to explain. When I’m not here, with you, I don’t have a body, or even individuality. I’m just part of the mass. And I’m sort of a reassuring force, because of my role in all this. So when I’m not there, they get… antsy? Like a bunch of kids,” he adds with a laugh.

John smiles. He can’t quite get behind the humor of calling the Overgrowth “kids,” but Merle’s shameless enjoyment of his own joke is sort of endearing.

“I gotta question,” Merle says, sitting down at the table. John joins him. “Whose turn is it in the chess game?”

“Yours, I believe. Was that your question?” John jokes.

“Ha! Nice try,” Merle retorts, using a pawn to take one of John’s diagonally. “I just moved between planar systems. Does this parley thing work across different systems, or do you have a method of transport? I know for sure you’re not hitching a ride with me.”

John considers how to answer that. On the one hand, Merle would probably let him decline to answer. But on the other, that could mean Merle refusing John’s questions later. And John has to be honest if he does answer, so… best to just keep it vague. “My friends and I, er, that crew of scientists,” he says, “We found a way to pass between dimensions just before you do. Using your portal, but not your plane.”

“Huh. That explains how you’ve done it without the Light in hand.”

John hesitates. “One more thing. During our first meeting, you mentioned that the Overgrowth-- er, that is, your whole plant plane, here--”

“Overgrowth?” Merle laughs. “Kinda on-the-nose! Better than mine, though.”

“Yes, well,” John continues, “You said it all started with someone asking you about… something. What was it?”

Merle’s expression falls, but before John can find out why, he realizes that his hand, resting on the table, has nettles starting to grow over and around it, with spikes that are precariously close. “Time to go, then, I suppose.”

★

It’s a few more sessions before John tries the question again.

“I just keep wondering,” John explains, “because what you've done is so… incomprehensible, so unique. I can't imagine what you were asked that made you create it.”

Merle closes his eyes. “When I was a cleric, back home, some members of my church found the Light of Creation. Young people, you know? The sort to ask big questions. Problem is, the Light had answers.” He takes a minute to make a chess move before continuing.

“They were scared of what they saw, so they showed it to me, looking for answers. And I- I saw--” Merle takes a shaky breath, and John realizes his eyes are glistening. “I saw everything. It wasn't just the concept of eternity, it was every single moment of it. And everything we do is so small, John. It was all so antithetical to everything I'd ever believed. I… I don't…”

John puts a hand on top of Merle’s, on the table. Merle looks up at him, some of the distress relaxing into gratitude. “John,” he says seriously, “With all your space travels and whatnot, don’t you ever lose sight of the little things. Don't zoom out so far into the big picture that you forget what's important.”

John’s lips quirk upwards. “Don’t worry. I’m a bard. I know every note is important.”

“A bard, huh?” Merle leans back, (not far enough to separate their hands), and he takes on a jokingly offended look. “You been holdin’ out on me? What do I gotta do to hear you play?”

“Sing, actually,” John says. Usually he’s not a fan of impromptu requests, but he finds he doesn't mind this one too much. “I mean, I do most of my magic with motivational speaking. But I sing sometimes, too.”

And then he does. He sings an old Dwarvish song that he learned on a previous world, something with a softer melody than most of their music is known for. He doesn't actually know any Dwarvish outside of the lyrics he's memorized, but he knows what it's about: A stone that falls and rolls down a mountain, who talks to all the animals and plants it passes. And at the end, when it's sitting still at the base, thinking it is alone, it learns it has befriended the mountain itself.

Merle is crying by the end of it, letting out any tears he was suppressing. “That was beautiful,” he says. “Thank you, John.”

★

The Overgrowth never appears in the sky. It climbs out from the core of the plane, a parasite, suffocating the world in shadow and cold as a cocoon covers it. And once the planar system is engulfed, it expands to its true size. The crew only ever sees it for a few moments-- an enormous mass of plants, with vines reaching out to them, before time freezes and resets.

★

“I’ve seen dozens of civilizations use the Light to pursue knowledge,” John says. “How did your use of it create the Overgrowth?”

“It wasn't in pursuit of knowledge,” Merle says. “It was… I led the church in a prayer. And because I had the Light, the whole world joined in as I called to Pan.” he sighs. “But I think that the vastness of eternity-- of real eternity-- was too big for gods, too.

“So Pan gave us his power. Or we ripped it out of him, I don't know. I don't think the light amplified his magic so much as… made its own version. Because, this--” he gestures to the forest-- “this isn't my Pan.

“Anyway, yeah. The Overgrowth began with that. We were all so afraid of being alone, being small andshort-lived in an uncaring universe. Of being nothing. But if we joined everyone together, if we became our own universe, we could be… something.”

★

“What brings you joy, John? Do you enjoy singing?” Merle asks, after another song.

“Yes. I like to... inspire people. And I like the way words and notes can be woven into any shape.” When Merle waits, John adds, “And… I love my crew, and…” They meet eyes.

“That’s good. Don't ever stop loving things, John, don't ever let yourself stop.”

“What do you enjoy, Merle?”

“I love your singing. I love our meetings. I love these waves,” Merle says, gesturing out towards the sea. “I wish I could remember any of that when I’m not here. Then, maybe… maybe I could stop all this. Stop… hurting everyone. Hurting you.”

★

In the ninety-second cycle, against the advice of the rest of the crew, John calls Merle for a final meeting. They've spoken in every cycle up till now-- multiple times in some of them, when Merle could manage it.

On the beach and in the ocean, there are more trees than there used to be. It's been a gradual increase over the decades, but it still feels like far too many, too fast. Above them, the night sky sparkles with stars.

“This may be our last meeting,” John says immediately. If he sits on the information, Merle will know something’s wrong.

Merle senses the weight of that statement, and so he doesn't endanger John by asking why. Instead, he says, “What, your friends finally figured out you're having an affair with the enemy instead of grilling me?”

John goes red for a moment before he relaxes and laughs. “You, personally, aren't my enemy, Merle.”

“Just look at you, hopelessly brainwashed!”

They laugh. John has mentioned before how he’s sure the crew thinks he's being Charmed, what with how happy he always leaves parley sessions, and with less new information each time. But he still fights against the Overgrowth just as hard as the rest of them, so they keep trusting him.

Merle speaks again as their laughter dies down. “I was wondering when this’d happen. You got any plans for our last day?”

Without really thinking, John starts to sing. He sings about the stars reflecting on the waves, about impossible wishes breaking the backs of meteors, about how far apart each star in a constellation is. He lets magic creep into the music, making the stars twinkle with different colors and having their reflections swirl in the ocean.

Merle faces away from John for most of it, staring out at the sea. “I loved that,” he says quietly at the end. “Where is it from?”

“I… I made it up just now. I thought you'd notice, what with all the stumbling and off-key notes.”

“It was perfect,” Merle whispers. They stare at the sky for a while, and then he breaks the silence again. “And you know I'm tone deaf, right?”

John laughs. “Oh, that's right! I forgot. Guess that part doesn't matter, then.”

“Yeah,” says Merle, and before they can fall into another silence, he adds, “Hey, you wanna know about these constellations? I think I still remember a few of them.”

“That would be lovely,” John says.

★

Seventeen years later, John drinks the ichor of a second voidfish, and he is overwhelmed by a sea of memories. In the emotional mayhem, he almost tries to parley. The thought is interrupted by the deafening crack of the moon base being torn through. The crew sees an enormous tree trunk grow straight up through a dome and then through the ceiling. There is a horrible, lurching tilt as the base's ability to stay airborne goes out, and it remains in place by the tree’s strength alone.

★

Not an hour later, John vanishes from a barely-functional elevator and finds himself in an almost-familiar space. His shoes are on sand, but he's surrounded by a fairly thick forest. He can see the ocean water to his side, glinting off the spots of sunlight between leaves. The picnic table is broken in half, with a tree dividing it.

And he sees Merle. “Holy shit, that worked,” the dwarf says. He's on his knees, surrounded by foliage. His right arm looks like it's made of wood, and his left eye has a flower obscuring it. John can't tell if it’s growing over the eye or instead of it. He doesn't want to know.

“Oh gods, Merle,” John says in a panic. “Fuck, it's been-- what's going on?”

“It’s this very original idea I had,” Merle grins, considerably less worried than John is. “I call it Parley!”

“What happened to your arm? Your eye? Merle--”

“Don’t worry about it. And what about you? Your complexion? You look awful,” he laughs.

“I had my good skin stolen by elves who played… electronic dance music.”

“The hell’s that? Can you sing it? Will you--” his tone drops to something a little more serious. “Will you sing for me? One last time?”

“I- I can't,” John says. “They took my singing, my… my sense of pitch. I can't sing.”

Merle looks at him for a long moment, and John expects something sympathetic, pitying. He doesn't want that at all. But before he can say that, Merle says, “You’re tellin’ me your pitch is stopping you from singin’ for Merle “tone-deaf” Hitower Highchurch, in a private parley area?” The trees around them seem to shift and creak. “What happened these last couple decades? The John I remember wasn't shy like that.”

“No, it's-- I appreciate that, Merle, but it's not that simple. I can't feel the changes between notes at all, and it throws me off my rhythm every time. I can't hold a tune.”

“John, if you won't sing, I will,” Merle decides. “And you're gonna hate it.”

“I doubt that,” John challenges.

And so Merle starts singing a loud, obnoxious shanty, wheezing every time it requires his voice to go higher. John realizes a few bars in that he recognizes it. It was broadcasted by one of the voidfish at Legato Conservatory.

As Merle predicted, John hates it, in an amused sort of way. He decides to try joining in, and he finds it's easier to keep up with the rhythm when he's being guided by Merle's (albeit terrible) singing. They yell the song to the sea, lacking any semblance of harmony or tune.

“See,” Merle says, “You still got it!”

John laughs. “I just didn't have any other way to drown you out, that's all.”

“You coulda killed me,” Merle says, tone far too flat. John stops laughing. The trees seem to lurch inwards around them, making John feel mildly claustrophobic. “This is parley.”

“What? No, Merle, what?? I'm not-- I won't kill you. I can't. Don't say that.”

“It might solve your problem.” As he says it, John feels vines creeping up his feet, tighter than usual. He tries to kick them off.

“And it might not! Jesus, Merle! We're gonna find a way, okay?”

Merle sighs. “Thought you might be like that. C’mere.” When John leans away from his inviting gesture, Merle adds, “I won't trick you into killing me. I'm not a jackass.”

John hesitates another moment before stepping forward, shaking the plants from his legs. He sits down in front of Merle-- with him cross-legged and the dwarf up on his knees, they're nearly eye-level.

Merle puts his non-wood hand on John’s upper arm. Roots are starting to twist over both of their legs. “John,” he whispers, “Do you wanna know the worst lie I've ever been told?”

John leans in. “Yes…?”

“It’s that love and moments and songs aren't worth anything because they'll be gone someday. And I've been living that lie for ninety-nine percent of my last few centuries alive. Except when I’m with you.” The trees are getting wider, taller. They’re starting to actually close in. The wind whistling through the branches sounds like a scream. “So I wanted to tell ya thanks for that, and I also wanted a minute here to cast-- Zone of Truth!”

The last words are a shouted spell, cast from his wooden hand, which has its fingers on the ground. The earth glows all around them, and then suddenly everything ignites. The arm, the trees, the vines. John expects the fire on his legs to burn him, but it just feels pleasantly warm.

As he's squinting at the blaze, John feels Merle squeeze his arm a little tighter and cough. He looks down to see vines constructing Merle's chest, aflame but too thick to be burned through yet.

“Oh gods, Merle, are you okay? I can-- Maybe I can heal--”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Merle wheezes gently. He moves his hand up to John’s head, running it through his hair. Then he presses their foreheads together, and they stay like that for a moment. “Destroy these bastards for me.”

And then John wakes up on the side of a dirt road.

★

At the end of the battle, John sees Merle once more. He’s sitting on the shore of the beach, looking like his normal self again. And there aren’t any trees in the sand or water-- only some vegetation scattered further away, where it would be on a normal beach. Far across the water, two suns are setting, one just slightly above the other.

Merle looks up and smiles at John, then pats the ground beside him. “Will you sit with me?”

John does, his mind swirling with questions and wishes and apologies-- something, anything to say to Merle before he’s gone. What does he say? Why can’t he get any words out?

“We don’t have to talk.” There’s an almost amused smile in Merle’s voice, like he knows what John’s thinking. “Let’s just watch this together.” He puts his hand on John’s, and they look out over the water.

When the first sun sets, and the other is three-quarters down, John feels the weight on his hand vanish, and when he looks over, Merle is gone.

Alone, he watches the other sun vanish, and then he is returned.

★ ★ ★

#the adventure zone #merle highchurch #john taz #merle casts zone of truth #oh god oh GOD im so absurdly nervous abt posting this #its like the vaguest romance ever but guess what? ive never written romance ever in my life. literally ever. HHHHGHGH #my writing #merle #john #balance #mine #the hunger by any other name

[lulucarrington]

The Black Out Job

CHAPTER 2: Meet the Crew

Summary: Possessing extra-sensory abilities that make him an outcast, Leo steps into the shady world of magic and crime in order to make ends meet. Wacky hi-jinks, drama, and Ken’s increasingly ridiculous wardrobe ensue.

Pairings: KenVi, Luck, NBin

Rating: T (Ratings will vary by chapter)

 Chapter 1: HERE

 Ravi woke to the chime of his phone. He rolled, confused, out of dreams of Jaehwan sitting on a rock and singing at him, to grope for his phone. He found Butt, a roll of papers, and eventually- finally- his phone.

 “What?” He groaned at the phone. “I was asleep.”

 “My friend said yes.” N’s chirp was far too cheerful for, Ravi squinted at his clock, two in the afternoon. He flopped back in bed, groaning again.

 “He does? That’s nice.”

 “That’s all you’ve got to say? How late were you up last night? Or was it this morning?”

 “Late. Now drop it, mother Cha. What does your friend want to do?”

 “I suggested we meet at the club.” N sounded unsure, which was new to Ravi.

 “The Reef?”

 “Yes. He knows it, and he can do work in the back while we continue on… Though, it has to be in the back. He can be sensitive to sounds and stuff.” Ravi couldn’t help the questions that started to creep into his mind. N was probably the most secretive of them all, and this sudden piece of his life had Ravi fascinated. Why a friend of his appearing so suddenly? How did he know N? Were they truly friends, or friends like Ravi and N were friends? How long have they known each other? Would N ever tell Ravi how they knew each other? Was this the start of N telling people things? He’d gotten lost in his thoughts and had missed N’s last comment.

 “Sorry, what?”

 “Sorry snooze boy, I was saying: Did. Hyuuuuuuuuuuuk. Giiiiiiiiiiiiiiive. Yoooooooou. The. Gemssssssssssssss?” N exaggerated.

 “Yes, thank you. Now, what time does your friend want to meet?”

 “What time do you think you’ll be ready? Got enough time to buff your tattoos for Ken?”

 “Ha, ha, Tinkerbell.” Ravi knew N hated the comparison to cartoon fairies. “Remind me to shake your wings on my tits when I’m done. Body glitter never quite shimmers the same way as fairy dust.”

 “Fine, no Ken talk. But Ravi…” N’ pause was long. “Look, I know I don’t talk about my life much, but my friend… He’s important to me, so handle him with kid gloves- he comes off cold, but he’s just shy. We’ve been friends since we were teenagers.”

 “Alright,” Ravi’s gut swirled at the omission. “I’ll ease him into things.”

 “Show him videos of Butt. He loves animals, so that’ll warm him right up to you.”

 “Gotta love a man who warms up to a man showing him videos of his Butt.” Ravi snorted.

 “Oh, that too- he’s been on about some tall hot blonde guy he sees around. I’m pretty sure he wants to bang Hyuk.”

 “Wait,” Ravi sat up, accidentally rolling Butt over. “Is this friend tall, dark and mysterious? Possibly looks like he was commissioned by Cartier? May or may not buy six cakes in one sitting?”

 “Sounds like him.”

 “Well Hyuk’s going to try and work his awkward fuck game on him the second he walks in.”

 “I hope we remember to film it. And I’ll meet you and my friend at 10, let’s say?” Alarms went off in Ravi’s mind.

 “Won’t that cross over with our meeting?”

 “Yes.” He could practically hear N’s feral grin. “So, he can help translate any conversation he hears, if you get me. I’ve got to run, later!” He hung up without waiting for a reply. Ravi let the phone drop to his lap as he sat up, knowing he should get up, but going to sleep at 11 am had left him exhausted. He knew he needed to stop pulling these kind of nights, but he was so close to a breakthrough- he had the gems. Writing the spell would be easier now. The gems meant the spell he was attempting to construct just lost 12 possible outcomes, and potentially made it stable enough to forgo several of the charms. It would make it lighter to carry, therefore easier to control.

 “Finally up?” Hyuk had let himself in at some point, and was standing in the doorway eating cereal straight from the box.

 “Yes. And we have work tonight. N’s friend agreed to meet us.”

 “Want me to come?”

 “Yes. N thinks we should have him around for the talks. He can eavesdrop on any… Personal conversations he just happens to be near.” Hyuk nodded his agreement as he shovelled another handful of cereal into his mouth. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

 “Payments came in. I put them on the counter in the boxes, cash in the drawer.” Hyuk nodded out the door. “Want me to meet you here or the club?”

 “The club, let’s say nine-ish?” Hyuk nodded and wandered away, Butt leaving Ravi to chase the possibility of dropped cereal. Ravi was tempted to check the cereal to see if Hyuk was leaving with it (he probably would), but the shower beckoned. He barely opened his eyes until he was under the hot spray. It finally woke him up completely, and allowed him a moment to wake up completely.

 It seemed like his plan was progressing smoothly, so he let thoughts of it slip and drift around him.

 He pulled up the dream of Ken and blushed despite being alone. He’d had a couple of similar dreams recently; and all of them were about Ken. The first, he had been walking along a beach, when a pile of nets and driftwood caught his eye. It shifted, as he watched it, and a pale hand flopped onto the sand. Ravi rushed to it, and his heart caught in his throat. Tangled in a net among the driftwood, was a mermaid. Unlike real mermaids, which were more like goblin sharks with arms, this mermaid was… A fantasy. Pouty lips, wide terrified eyes, and glorious scales leaped up at him from between the coarse lines of netting. The mermaid was staring at him in equal surprise.

 “Will you free me?” It asked, and he realised the mermaid was Ken. The playful tone was unmistakable.

 “Um. Sure?” Ravi found a knife at his belt, and began to saw at the ropes. Since when did he carry a knife?

 “When I’m free I shall give you a kiss.” Ken declared, his hands clutching at the netting. The statement startled Ravi so much he’d woken up. The dreams were all like that- always Ken, always around water, always that damned pouting! He had half a mind to bite that bottom lip if Ken pouted at him again.

 This latest dream was no different, he was on the deck of a ship, sailing past a rocky reef. On the rocks lay Ken and several others that he hadn’t really noticed because Ken was there. He was having trouble noticing KEN because Ken was there. He lay, draped in thin, nearly translucent cloth, staring out at Ravi’s ship with desperate hope. He called out to Ravi, promising to tell Ravi all kinds of things, sweet things, whispered suggestions of passion, and more. If only Ravi would come closer, so Ken could whisper in his ear.

 As his ship neared the rocky shores, Ravi felt hands pulling at his clothes, voices begging him not to go, but his mind was filled with Ken. He wanted to hear those secrets, to feel them slip from those pouty lips onto his own. He wanted to rip away the flimsy gauze and expose Ken to him, to get on his knees and-

 Hyuk slamming something in another room brought Ravi out of his reverie, and he immediately attacked his hair with some shampoo, as if he could wash the thoughts from his head. He was NOT going to fantasize about that peacocking menace. He wouldn’t give Ken the satisfaction of knowing all that flirting was getting to him, even if he never told Ken about any of it.

                                *                    *                         *

 Taekwoon was seated at the bar, sipping a drink as slowly as he could, hoping Hakyeon would finally show up. The club was always too much for him, the lights too bright, the smells too much. He knew it came from spending more time around animals- he had taken on enough qualities that his world was more sensitive than that of the average humanoid. It was starting to get to him.

 If Hakyeon was late, that meant Taekwoon would have to endure this club for even longer, and he knew he was going to get a headache. He sighed, and decided he was going to try dancing, if only to tell Hakyeon that he missed seeing it. He turned, intending to get up, when a newcomer caught his eye. Taekwoon recognised the man instantly. It was the Blonde Corner Store Man. Unusually tall, and blonde, possessing a boyish smile he often graced Taekwoon with whenever they passed each other, he’d been a fixture of many shopping trips for the last few months. Taekwoon couldn’t help but feel a little weak at the knees upon seeing the man again- something about him drew Taekwoon in. He was like an asteroid, being pulled into the gravitational field of a planet. He was ready to crash on the planet, to talk to this man without fear.

 “Hey!” Hakyeon’s voice behind him nearly sent Taekwoon jumping into the writhing crowd below. “Miss me?” Taekwoon shot his friend a look. “Sorry I was late, everyone decided it was Talk to Hakyeon day. Took me forever just to get out the door.”

 “It’s fine, just… You know. The sensory overload.” He scanned the crowd, looking for the blonde. Hakyeon would understand if they waited a minute, so Taekwoon could at least ask the guy for his number. His heart jumped when he realised the blonde was nowhere to be seen, He couldn’t have left! Taekwoon wasn’t ready for him to leave! He felt a little hollow as Hakyeon gripped his arm and steered him away from the bar, down towards the bathrooms and long dark hallways Taekwoon was sure led to something shady and possibly illegal.

 “Don’t worry, we’re headed somewhere quieter. Ravi doesn’t like noise much either, aside from Jaehwan, but even then, we’re all putting bets on how long it takes Ravi to hex him.” Hakyeon grinned as the aforementioned man came gliding over. Taekwoon was once again impressed by Jaehwan. He made his skin-tight pants look effortlessly flexible as he slid to Hakyeon’s side.

 “N! How is my butterfly prince this evening?” Charm practically oozed off of him as he leaned forward and grinned at Hakyeon, who ignored the greeting.

 “This is the guy Ravi wanted to see.” He started.

 “Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Broody here?” Jaehwan eyed him up and grinned before recognition sparked. “Woonie! You’re an Omnilingual? Can you talk to snakes?“

 “Yes, but he doesn’t want to talk to yours. Just let Ravi know we’re here, please?” Hakyeon sighed. Jaehwan pouted in return.

 “Fine, mother Cha. You’re no fun.” Said Jaehwan. “Now, come on, Ravi’s in a mood today.” Taekwoon followed the pair, who continued to chat in a friendly manner, to the back of the club. Walking into the back halls was even more surreal in its underwater quality than the club itself. These halls were filled with the deep, slow darkness at the bottom of ocean trenches, with only the echoes of music crawling in as if from another universe. It even seemed to muffle Jaehwan and Hakyeon’s chattering to damp whispers. Taekwoon enjoyed it immensely. After threading through several tight hallways and going up several flights of stairs they reached a doorway, in which stood the blonde man.  “Hyukkie!” Jaehwan greeted him with a wave. “Is everyone else here?”

 “Hongbin’s on his way. Apparently he needed to have the last word and got chased a few blocks out of his way.” The blonde’s smirk nearly set Taekwoon’s hair on fire. He looked up, saw Taekwoon, and a look of electrified shock zapped through his features. “Who’s this?”

 “My friend. The one Ravi needs to see.” Hakyeon waggled his eyebrows as he pulled Taekwoon’s arm meaningfully. “You can talk to him in a minute.”

 Taekwoon dug his heels in, but Hakyeon was on a mission. He waved shyly at the other man as he was dragged into the dim room. It was lit mostly by the same blueish light as the club, but this room felt calmer and more serene than even the hallways had. In the center of it, standing in front of a low-backed leather chair, was a purple-haired man. He had his arms extended, one hand carrying a closed fan, the other was palm-down above a wispy symbol chalked on the floor. As Taekwoon watched, he opened his fan and began to scythe it through the air between the symbol and his other hand. Leo could feel the air pressure of the room change, while the man’s voice, deep and soft, began to weave a song even Taekwoon’s considerable language skills was having trouble following. The man was seeking something- searching for… A person? A book? Looking for their hiding place? He repeated the phrases over and over as he began to glide around the symbol on the floor. It was a foreign dance Taekwoon had never seen before. The grace and swiftness of it astounded him, and belatedly he realised this was a spell. This was magic. Before Taekwoon could sink deeper into amazement the man opened his eyes and noticed them. He stopped, closing his fan and free hand with a snap that left green spots dancing through the air.

 “Oh, N, you’re here?” The deep voice said as Taekwoon blinked the spots out of his eyes, amazed. “I’m sorry, I was working on… My search.”

 “It’s fine,” Hakyeon seemed unaffected by the display, but Taekwoon was enthralled. He’d never seen a spell cast before! Hakyeon had given him charms and spelled trinkets, but it was nowhere near as interesting as the song and the lights! “Sorry we’re late. I couldn’t get two feet without someone wanting to chat, it was a nightmare.”

 The purple-haired man gestured dismissively, before turning an uncomfortably intense stare on Taekwoon. Without the theatrical spell, he looked like someone’s fantasy professor, complete with gold-rimmed glasses. He gestured, and Taekwoon heard several others moving around behind him.

 “It’s fine. Once Hongbin said he’d be late I knew the rest of you would drag on too.” His tone turned friendly once he’d chided Hakyeon. “I’m Ravi.”

 “I’m… Leo.” Taekwoon had to remember to call himself that. And Hakyeon was N now.

 “I’m sorry for the group meeting, but we’re a small organization, so I like everyone to know who’s around.” Leo nodded. “As N explained- the nicknames are more for my sake than anyone else’s. As a wizard, I get into it with others who can cast spells. The last thing I need is someone pulling your full name or more out of me in a duel.” Leo nodded along- N had explained it all to him on the way. “And you know N already. The other members of the crew are Ken, who owns this club, Hongbin, who isn’t here yet, and Hyuk,” Ravi gestured behind Leo. Leo turned, and saw the blonde man again. They exchanged a small smile before Leo returned his attention to Ravi. “It’s nice to finally meet face to face. N has told me… Well he’s told me next to nothing about you, but that’s more than he generally tells me.” The man’s eyes never left Leo’s, but he continued. “And no amount of N making faces will change what I said, N.”

 “Get to the point before Ken gets here. It’ll be embarrassing for everyone watching you two.” N replied, sinking into a chair near Ravi.

 “Right. Mostly, I want you here for this,” He produced a slim folder from the chair behind him. “N says you can read any language-“

 “Read, listen to, and speak it.” Leo felt the need to clarify things. Ravi’s expression brightened.

 “Well, I’ll get you set up here. Though, I will have to take a meeting at one point. Would that… Bother you?”

 “No,” Leo felt nervousness twist in his stomach, but he ignored it. Ravi grinned, and turned back to the symbols on the floor. Somehow, if he was being honest with himself, Leo had expected something more dramatic or clandestine in nature. So Ravi being so casual and at ease had tilted everything a little, and Leo was unsure of his footing. It would be like any other job, he reminded himself, that’s what N said. So this kind of informality would be expected. The spell was interesting, though. He enjoyed that.

 “Oh, and Ken’s got your money, someone remind me to give it to you when he gets in here.” Leo nodded mutely as he watched Ravi carefully erase the symbol on the floor and move a chair over the space.

 “No need!” Ken’s trilling excitement poured into the room as the man himself strutted in. “Ravi, don’t you look Ravishing this evening. Looks like you’re still taking your handsome pills.” Leo had seen Ken flirt, but the terrible greeting could have won a prize. Tonight, Ken was dressed in something dark and tight, with a purple streak edging the low neckline. It was almost demure compared to some of the outfits Leo had seen.

 “They make them in chewables now.” Ravi returned. “Now give Leo his money.”

 “Leo like a lion?” Ken turned a big grin on Leo, who nodded slowly. “Is it because you’re a beast in-“ Hyuk’s hand hit Ken’s shoulder, and Leo heard a faint crackling sound, and Ken was leaping away towards Ravi.

 “Ignore Ken. He was born without manners.” Hyuk came to stand near Leo, leaning against the wall.

 “I’ve met him before.” Leo mumbled. He’d been so ready to plunge into a conversation earlier, but disorientation and anxiety had clouded him over once again. He was nervous of trying to start a conversation with Hyuk now.

 “That’s good. And, since Ravi was a little… Tactful about it. He wants you to listen in on his meeting. Some of the people invited have been shifty lately. If they’re whispering anything weird or not related to the meeting, you tell him about it, right?”

 “Um. Sure. I’m… I’m not sure what to listen for?”

 “Just anything that doesn’t sound like it’s about that contract.”

 “Okay.”

 “And… Um… Do you want any food or something?” Even in the blue wash of the lights, Hyuk’s cheeks were pink.

 “If it wouldn’t be a problem? Where do I get some?”

 “No, sit,” Hyuk put a hand on Leo’s shoulder, pushing him towards the table they’d set up for him. Hyuk’s hand was hot. It was extremely hot- the heat of it radiated several inches across Leo’s skin, and he almost thought his clothes would catch fire from the scalding sensation. “I’ll see what’s being served upstairs tonight.” It took Leo a moment to remember the restaurant Ken owned, which was several floors above this one in the next building.

 “Thank you.” He sat, and watched Hyuk leave, which took some time, as Hyuk had paused mid-way through the room. He watched Hyuk carefully remove his shoes and rub his socked feet on the carpet for a moment, before leaning over and giving Ken a static zap that sent the other man leaping out of his conversation with N into the slender form of a newcomer.

 “No matter how many times guys have poked Ken, the big ones are still a surprise, huh?” The newcomer laughed at Ken, giving Hyuk a wide smile that had to have at least 56 extra teeth in it as Hyuk grabbed his shoes and escaped Ken’s angry muttering.

 “Shut up,” Ken sniped, giving the newcomer a dirty look. It was ignored in favour of Leo. The smiling man made a beeline for him, grinning the whole way.

 “Hongbin!” He announced, once he was close. “And you’re…” He paused, appearing to listen to something. “Leo.” Leo nodded. “You…” He paused again, and looked surprised. “You know N and… And someone thinks you might like Ravi’s butt?” Hongbin frowned. “I thought he might like Ravi’s dog Butt. Not Ravi’s butt. We all know that butt is reserved for Ken’s hands.”

 Ravi, Leo noted, appeared to have gone suddenly deaf for this conversation. The dynamics of this little group were confusing, to say the least. “And Leo, Hongbin is a psychic. You’ll get used to this kind of thing,” N waved at Hongbin, who was staring at him with a curious smile.

 “Hyuk’s touch is warm, isn’t it?” He said softly. “He’s a fire elemental. He can’t help it.” Leo had an image of curling up against Hyuk for warmth, as a cat would, and Hongbin’s eyes widened. Embarrassed, Leo turned back to the document. “I won’t tell.” Hongbin whispered, and turned back to the rest of the group.

 Leo worked without interruption after that. Some waiters pushing large carts filed in soon after Hongbin, and Ken directed them on where to put giant dishes on the tables around the room. Leo was dutifully ignored by the staff as he worked, one only coming close to put a glass of water beside him. The contract seemed fairly standard, all jargon and long-winded sentences, and Leo carefully typed it all out exactly as he read it. He’d let Ravi decide on whether he wanted clarification later. He was actually enjoying himself, he found. He listened to the others chat, and as the room began to fill with others- most of whom were humans as far as Leo could see- the chatter became more interesting. Two of the humans had noted Hyuk’s current absence, causing Leo to realize he’d been gone for well over two hours. Neither Hyuk, nor the promised food had joined him, and it hurt a little to realize it. Leo wanted both of them to get back to him now. Two others kept checking the time, and they seemed to be expecting a third person, even after everyone had taken a chair. With no empty chairs, Leo couldn’t help but spare a thought to puzzle over who they might be waiting for.

 He continued translating, though, and kept his curious ear on the conversation. Most of it was Ravi and a dark-haired white man whose name Leo hadn’t caught. His two associates were still periodically checking their watches and whispering to each other. Most of the phrases included the very popular “Is it time yet? They said he’d be here?”, and the equally repeated “No you idiot.”, followed by, interestingly, “But we need him for this to be absolute-“ which was quickly muffled or cut off. After the sixth muffled comment Hyuk strolled in. He looked calm, but Leo could see the bags in his hands looked scorched, and his previously styled hair was wild. He moved in and whispered something to Ravi, who nodded but continued a conversation with the white man. Hyuk, on the other hand, was moving towards Leo, but his eyes were fixed on the two whisperers while his expression was an ugly, twisted thing.

 “Those two!” He hissed as he sat down beside Leo, carefully setting the bag between them. “Why are they here?”

 “I think they came with the white guy Ravi’s talking to. I’m not sure what they’re here for though.” Leo whispered back. “They keep waiting for someone, according to their whispering.” Leo relayed the whispered comments to Hyuk, whose frown soured into a deep scowl. “Why?”

 “They’re my brothers. They said they’d gotten out of… Out of their previous line of work, but if they’re thugging for hire now… I need you to tell Ravi what you heard.”

 Leo carefully stood, feeling awkward as hell as he approached the crowd of leather chairs. Fortunately, most of the chairs’ occupants ignored him, though one or two spared him a bored glance. When he came up behind Ravi’s chair he leaned down, like he had seen Hyuk do, and whispered:

 “The two in the dark suits, to your left. They’re Hyuk’s brothers, according to him, and they’ve been whispering back and forth a few times about someone arriving? And needing them for something.” Leo repeated the phrases again, and Ravi nodded, much like he had with Hyuk.

 “Tell Hyuk to-“ Ravi began, then, in a blinding flash, everything went white.

#vixx fanfic #Fantasy AU #Leverage/Heist AU #Organized Crime AU #Pairings: #Ravi - Ken #Leo - Hyuk #Hongbin - N

[shleyaay123]

Fantastic Beasts Pirate AU - Chapter 1

Well, I did it. I officially committed to writing the monstrous undertaking that is the Pirate/Selkie AU developed by @linddzz in this post. Pray for me children, for it is a beast all on its own. 

Please send me suggestions for project titles! Its still TBD. Will post on AO3 when I settle on a title. 

6 December, 1926

Newton A.F. Scamander

 Well, little brother,

 I don't know how much you have heard wherever you are about what's going on in jolly old Europe, but this chap Grindelwald has been making a lot of noise since you have been away. Charismatic blighter, but the Ministry doesn't like him and nor does the International Confederation. He and his rats of the sea have been gallivanting along the North Atlantic for months now, and they cannot make heads or tails of his blundering endeavors.

 Now he has upset a few of the big wheels and he's gone underground. I have been chosen to go away and ferret him out. While I don’t really like the idea of going off to sea, I revel in the chance to be picked, because the whole department wants to be on this case and it's taken some extra hard work to reach this status.

 In any case, I am wishing you well - wherever you are. I know you are traveling by ship, so please be careful on whatever beastly quests you are undertaking! You don’t want to be on the wrong side of pirates.

 Best regards,

 Theseus

It seemed almost pointless to disembark with the mulling crowd of travelers when he was only going to jump on another vessel in a few short hours…or, at least, he would if it all went well and he didn’t set anything on fire. Still, social niceties and human interaction were an unfortunate necessity when dealing with international travel, and Newt Scamander was already walking on thin ice, as it were.

 Newt’s letter to the New York branch of the US Naval Headquarters requesting passage on a research vessel had been successfully received, and an intimidatingly neutral response had directed him to meet with the Admiral in charge of all voyages regarding the hunt for and recognizance of magical creatures along the East Coast. Theseus had assured him that he need not make an appointment with Admiral Picquery so long as he had a proper letter of recommendation and given plenty of notice of his impending arrival. And so, all he had to do was speak to the Admiral politely, keep his answers short and professional, and he would be granted his request without any fanfare or trouble.

 Of course, theoretical good fortune almost never made the transition to reality for Newt, and so he was also preparing himself for the worst.

 Silently, he stared at the rising black coal clouds obscuring the clear skies above the coast of New York. A bulging, battered journal sat heavily inside one of the many pockets of his overcoat, and an old brown leather case charmed by the powers of a kind, ancient fairy sat at his feet. The large passenger ship glided through the churning waters surrounding the towering Statue of Liberty, and men, women, and children of all shapes and sizes crowded the metal rails. Newt chose to remain seated on a nearby deserted bench, rereading his brother’s newest letter and glancing at his fellow passengers with disinterest. The past few years of sailing on the seven seas on a multitude of various transports had dampened his sense of wonderment at seeing the oncoming landscape.

 A loud horn sounded as the ship began its slow creep into the docks, and sailors in pristine white uniforms began throwing ropes and orders around in a frenzy perfected by years of routine. Among the bustling crowds of immigrants, Newt walked down the gangplank of the ship with his case held tightly in his right hand and his papers grasped tightly in the other within his coat pocket. Long rows of desks were packed with congested lines of people, all bundled in their winter coats and holding their luggage close when they were able.

 After what seemed like hours of waiting and staring at the steel beams holding the Customs building roof intact, Newt was finally summoned to a desk with a stern-faced official in a dark blue uniform eyeing him with disinterest.

 “Passport?” He grumbled. Newt handed it over almost instinctively, trying not to fidget or draw attention to his case. “British, huh?”

 “Yes.”

 “First trip to New York?”

 “Yes.”

 “Any magical heritage?” Newt blinked and tried not to look as outraged as he felt. Granted, it was quite common for Magicals to be physically indistinguishable to those with pure human bloodlines, and thus an understandable question for immigrants to be asked. Still, he felt it odd that the official felt the need to ask at all when his passport clearly stated that he was Human.

 “…my mother is an Animalinguist,” he said softly. The official nodded, either unaware of the effect his words had on Newt or simply unable to care. He closed Newt’s worn passport and gestured to his case.

 “Anything edible in there?” he asked. Newt took a deep breath to push past the awkward exchange of personal information, absentmindedly placing his hand over his breast pocket and concentrating on keeping his expression calm.

 “No.”

 “Livestock?” Unheeding of his best efforts, the magic surrounding the case reacted to Newt’s mental images of all that it contained and the catch flicked open of its own accord. Newt looked down in alarm and hastily closed it, stamping down any thoughts that might trigger it again.

 “Must get that fixed—ahh, no.” The official’s eyes had grown darker at the case’s rebellion and his frown deepened as he looked at Newt more closely. Newt fought the urge to smile innocently, as he had learned from experience that this would only complicate matters further.

 “Let me take a look,” the official finally said, placing Newt’s passport to the side and gesturing to the empty desk.

 Newt begrudgingly placed the case between them, leaning away from the desk and crossing his hands behind the small of his back. Just as the customs official placed his hands on the case to spin it towards him, Newt discreetly rubbed the small black symbol etched permanently into his right wrist with his left thumb. A familiar tingling spread through his fingers, a sign that the magic of the case was heading his call. When the official popped open the catches and peered inside the suitcase, he found only a perfectly folded pair of pajamas and other small knickknacks that Newt had placed there as a disguise.

 Unable to deny the mundane proof before him, the official glanced at Newt one last time before closing the case and handing the belongings back to their rightful owner.

 “Welcome to New York.”

Magic was never perfect, nor was it always exceptional in nature, so it came as no surprise to Newt that for all of its vast majesty and impressive murals, the New York Branch of the US Naval Headquarters was almost completely devoid of any obvious magical properties. Magical and Human individuals meandered about in equal measure, certainly, but the walls were sturdy brick, the columns hand-painted gold, and a giant gold clock in the center of the atrium ticked away using only the cogs, gears, and bolts that it was built with. A kind young receptionist had led him to a cozy leather loveseat in front of a large oak door to wait, and he passed the time alternating between staring at the framed portraits on the hallway walls and visually tracing the letters reading “Admiral Seraphina Picquery” on the golden plaque beside his head.

 Men and women in flowing skirts and tasteful suits came and went, until finally a small group of imposing professionals all in black sauntered in Newt’s direction down the expansive hallway. A majestic, blond-haired young woman in a complicated headdress led the pack, her expression angry, yet contained, and her eyes as dark as her pinstripe suit.

 “—is threatening to send a delegation. They think this is related to Grindelwald’s attacks in Europe,” she said earnestly.

 “There have been no sightings of Grindelwald or his men in the past few weeks, Admiral. I hesitate to call this piracy without further investigation,” the middle-aged man at her side argued.  The man was dressed in a smart suit and tie, his dark hair slicked back and slightly greying on the sides. Together they made an attractive couple shrouded in an air of tightly coiled confidence, and all trailing members of their group seemed almost pale and meek in comparison.

 The woman, who was no doubt the very Admiral that Newt had come to see, tilted her head in acknowledgement of her comrades’ point.

 “Whatever it is, one thing’s clear—it must be stopped. It’s terrorizing the waters along the coast. If ships keep sinking, our trade routes will become all but ghost towns! And then where will we be?” Admiral Picquery glided to a stop in front of her office door, turning her attention from her coworker to Newt so smoothly that he had to blink multiple times to mentally comprehend the transition. “Mr. Scamander, I presume?”

 “Uh, yes!” He rose from his seat and adjusted the front of his coat, extending a hand for the woman to shake. Her lips curled upwards in the shadow of a smile, politely taking his hand and scanning him up and down with her eyes.

 “Admiral Picquery. Thank you for waiting.” She nodded in dismissal to the small crowd behind her, opening the door and gesturing for Newt to follow her inside. “Your brother's letter was quite complementary when it came to your expertise, Mr. Scamander. He believes you may be able to assist our crews in their missions across the more dangerous parts of the sea. Is this a correct assumption?”

 “Well, I will certainly do my best.” Newt waited until the Admiral had begun to lower herself into her ornate office chair before allowing himself to sink into the plush cushions of his own seat. He placed his case on the ground and folded his hands across his lap. “You see, I’ve just completed a year in the field. I’m writing a book about magical creatures—a guide to help people understand why we should be protecting these creatures instead of killing them.”

 “Despite the dangers they present to our ships and the humans aboard them?” she asked calmly.

 “Well, most sea creatures are not as dangerous as they first appear. They simply react to what they perceive as threats to their well-being,” Newt clarified.

 “And our naval vessels are one of these threats?” Her expression remained smooth and neutral, but Newt would have bet every worldly possession that he owned that her tone of voice had dipped dangerously into haughty ridicule. He bit the inside of his cheek and answered her rhetorical question with a challenge of his own.

 “Admiral, what is the standard procedure on US naval ships for the sighting of a magical sea creature? Depending on size, of course.” The Admiral raised her eyebrow, but answered his question easily and politely enough.

 “Well, depending on size and classification, the protocol is to load and man the cannons and guns in the event of an attack. The men then wait for the Captain’s signal, and if the creature attacks, the Captain orders an open fire until the attack is neutralized,” she said. Newt nodded, inconspicuously rubbing the symbol on his wrist to keep the case from reacting to his racing thoughts.

 “And, if it’s determined there is no threat to the ship?”

 “Then no order is given and everybody moves on.” The Admiral leaned back in her chair, the mask of professional interest cracking slightly in the light of her growing disinterest.

 “And, if I may ask, what is the average response time of US Captains between the recorded sighting of the sea creature and the order to fire?” Newt waited a beat as the Admiral’s shoulders tensed and her expression morphed to one of confusion. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not a commonly known statistic. But perhaps you know the annual monetary losses attributed to sea creature attacks in terms of ammunition, gunpowder, and repairs to the ships after the sea creatures respond aggressively to open fire?”

 “…I would have to check the records,” the Admiral admitted cautiously. Newt’s lips twitched up in a smirk that was almost instantly suppressed, and he quickly averted his eyes before delivering his next words.

 “The English have a protocol that is almost identical to the US. The average response time of an order to fire is approximately 30 minutes after a sea creature of any size is spotted within 16 kilometers, with the average royal vessel traveling at a speed of 15 knots. This means, as I’m sure you can estimate, that the average English Captain orders his men to fire before the ship even reaches the sea creature in question, as it would take approximately 35 minutes for the ship to sail up directly beside the creature they target.” Newt paused and allowed his tirade to sink in before continuing.

 “The Royal Navy also recorded an annual budget for the past three years for ammunition and weaponry that showed a 32% depletion filed under sea creature attacks, with the remaining majority all relating to the battles in the war. For a procedure that calls for caution and patience, that number seems awfully high. It’s also quite telling, in combination with the reaction times, don’t you think?” Newt met the Admiral’s eyes again, finding them frozen, yet wide and open.

 “And what does this data have to do with your request, Mr. Scamander?” she asked softly. Newt nodded, resting his elbows up on the arms of his chair. He took a moment to swallow the bitter pill of compromise, reciting the sales pitch that Theseus had given him in their discussions of how to convince the necessary powers to approve his request.

 “If I am allowed aboard one of your ships, I have every intention of providing your officers with new protocols that should decrease wasted ammunition, gunpowder, repair costs, and all the financial burdens thereof. If we’re lucky, it might even increase the safety of your crews…and thus your subsequent recruitment numbers.”

 Admiral Picquery stared at him in the following silence, her body language almost relaxed and appraising. She took a moment to glance out the large window across the room from her desk, the docked naval ships swaying in the harsh winds of the rocky coast. Newt sat uncomfortably as he waited for her verdict, rubbing at his wrist in order to give his hands something distracting to do.

 “It seems I owe you an apology, Mr. Scamander,” she said suddenly. Newt’s eyes snapped to her, only barely keeping the panic in his gut at bay. And he thought he was doing so well!

 “Sorry?”

 “I hate making errors in judgement, but I am not so proud as to deny when I am wrong…at least, not in these types of matters.” Admiral Picquery sighed and offered him a small smile, one devoid of haughtiness or deceit. “From your letter and first impressions, I had taken you for an eccentric fool. Eccentric, you may be, but the only fool in this room is me.”

 She rose from her chair and smoothed down the front of her jacket as Newt mirrored her movements with equal amounts of trepidation and anticipation.

 “You’ve brought an issue to my attention that I was unaware even existed. If you truly think you can assist us, I have no objections to adding you to the ship’s roster.” She paused and busied herself with straightening the paperwork piled on her desk, allowing Newt a small sense of privacy while he grinned in excitement. “I do have to ask if you have any experience in sailing.”

 “Ah, yes, but mainly single-handler sailboats,” he admitted. The Admiral nodded and grabbed a sheet of paper from a nearby drawer. Dipping her feathered quill in a large inkwell with a deft hand, she began to fill in a series of boxes with a scrolling script and signed the document with a flick of her wrist.

 “Captain Percival Graves is on the schedule to set sail later today. His crew handles the recognizance and classifications of all creatures along the coast of the Atlantic, magical and otherwise. He should have plenty of room on his ship for you.” She gently blew on the ink to make it dry, handing the paperwork over to Newt without fanfare. “I’ll make sure he’s expecting you. The ship boards at 1400 this afternoon.”

 “Thank you, Admiral.” Newt accepted the paper with a grateful nod, bending down and retrieving his case. As he made his way to the door, the Admiral’s ominous voice suddenly echoed across the room.

 “Oh, and Mr. Scamander?”

 “Yes?”

“Please do your best not to get anyone killed,” she said with a dark smirk. “Sailors are not the most understanding when you endanger their crew.”  

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #crewt #pirate au #selkie au #linddzz

[thesinglesjukebox]

IU - JAM JAM [6.73] [6.73] qualifies as a jam in our books...

Ryo Miyauchi: "I need some sugar, I need something fake": I've been stuck on this by IU for a bit. Both the disco slap and her rather selfish tone of "Jam Jam" might run contrary to the supposedly grown image she tries to sell with the rest of Palette; this sounds closer to 23-year-old IU who could not settle on a damn thing. But if "Palette" was about knowing exactly what you want, shouldn't she also be entitled to want something fake, cheap, and fast to expire as artificial sweetener if that's what she craves? This era of IU is about The Now as much as Adulthood. "Jam Jam" fits that theme equally great, if not better than her more down-to-earth ballads. [8]

Katie Gill: The metaphors are all over the place. She needs sugar but also wants to be melted down? And she mentions sugar but the overall sound is more sultry than sweet? It's a bit of a mess, but at least it's an amazingly well constructed and well produced mess. That slide and harmony on the word "jam" is worth the price of admission alone. [5]

Ramzi Awn: An instant hook with harmony for days, "Jam Jam" does more than follow through on its promise. The bass line escorts IU's vocals to a pristine build-up accented by proper synths and bleeps. Something to write home about. [9]

Will Adams: The Vengabus is coming, driven by IU and her crew of lush, multilayered vocals. The end of the line is a charming town decorated with synth bubbles. It's a little bit outside "Sogyeokdong," but close enough of a walk. [7]

Alfred Soto: I can listen to the bass line and the breathy "More More More" vocals all afternoon. [7]

Ian Mathers: I love the way the song suddenly lays back on that pre-chorus bit with the layered voices, like the track's about to pass out; I love the sudden reimposition of the bassline, and I love the way the disco bits seem extra-frothy because of the way they wash into and out of "Jam Jam." Checking out lyric videos indicates the feel of the song meshes pretty well with what's being said, but just the surfaces of this song are ravishing enough that she could be singing the phonebook and it'd still get most of this score. [9]

Stephen Eisermann: This will be the first time I review a song where I don't understand 98 per cent of what is being said, so I am happy to report that I like it! It's hard not to see this song being used in a club scene set in Korea for whatever action franchise heads there next, and that's not a bad thing. The bumping beat with IU's wispy vocals make for an interesting pair, with IU's tone sounding half instructor and half seductress. I'm glad that my first real foray into K-Pop is this strong, and I have but one note: why haven't the drag queens taken notice? These songs seem right up their alley! I'm running to my DQ friends with this on hand -- long live the K-pop Kweens! [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: IU was bound to tap songwriter Sunwoo Junga sooner or later. While "Jam Jam" doesn't quite sound like anything Junga has written for herself or others, both she and IU have created their fair share of inoffensive pop music -- jazz-lite pop, coffee shop folk, yawn-inducing OSTs -- but have released singles in recent years that show a desire to adapt or move beyond these sounds. With IU, this branching out goes hand in hand with wanting to shed her Nation's Little Sister title, and has been most successful through personal lyrics. "Jam Jam" may not be an explicit autobiographical Statement, as "Twenty-Three" or "Palette" were, but it's surely explicit enough in other ways to warrant notice for being an IU song. But as hard as she tries to deliver subdued sensuality, her vocalizing comes off more clever than magnetic, and the paltry disco beat isn't doing any favors. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: The opening swell of synth chord got me all hyped... then the beat dropped like a wet sock. Ultimately, the lack of groove kicks the chair out from under the production, which seems to depend almost entirely on all locking as a groove. Since the beat doesn't line up, it all falls apart immediately. But the synths and synth bass burble and bubble and pop at the right moments. IU swings with the beat with a soft yet strong modal, and then falsetto, tone, but is hampered by the drums as well. Basically, this would be a pretty good [6], BUT THOSE DRUMS. THEY RUINED IT. [4]

Maxwell Cavaseno: This has got to be some of the worst "cool electro" I've heard in years and IU's attempts at entendre, combined with her wispy voice, are absolutely banal. The fact is, as much as she's incredibly good at being coy, "Jam" is the sound of someone forcing the winks where none are necessary, to the detriment of a chance to deviate from her typical standard of austerity. [2]

Mo Kim: In his book Sweetness and Power, Sidney Mintz outlines the strange history of sugar in early modern times, a labor-intensive luxury good that through industrialization, a production system built on slavery, and the ideological demands of growing social mobility became a desirable staple for an emerging British working class. There's a way in which sustenance and fantasy collude in this account of sweetness; a way in which sugar masks something rotting at the heart of an exploitative, violent system. And still I think of songs that stick to my skin the way bodies never have, of sustaining myself through four years of college off love songs I hoped I could taste one day. In fewer words: "I need some sugar, I need something fake." In fewer words: the title of "Jam Jam," jam as in morsel of sweetness small enough to carry in a jar; jam as in song to blast over the pain of living in a body that aches and hungers. IU (with the help of songwriter Sunwoo Junga) preserves her central metaphor in disco piano chords and rollicking guitar rhythms, yet something exhausted and all-too-recognizably haunting creeps into her performance and Yoo Sukcheol's production: even the thump of the guitar sounds as if it's being played through the walls of a room I'm just outside, and the song doesn't explode so much as it cracks open at its climax. "Jam Jam," then, boils down to a disquieting truth about what it is to survive off the fantasies that slowly kill you, even as its hooks lodge themselves firmly between my teeth. It's a trick so sweet it sickens me. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#IU #Jam Jam

[aion-rsa]

INTERVIEW: Adam Warren on A Decade of ‘Goofily Sexy’ Series Empowerment

Time flies when you’re tied up and having fun. Adam Warren and Dark Horse Comics kick off the 10th anniversary of their popular “Empowered” series this month with a three-issue miniseries titled “Empowered and the Soldier of Love,” with the first issue on sale this week. Promising the usual hijinks, damaged personalities and meta-commentary on the depiction of women in comics, the series pits Empowered against a Sailor Moon-inspired “soldier of love” who finds her abilities aren’t so endearing as an adult.

Series creator Warren is joined by illustrator Karla Diaz, author of the webcomics “Cute Sins” and “Coffee Shop,” for “Empowered and the Soldier of Love,” making her the first person to drawn an extended Emp story besides Warren himself.

CBR asked Warren some questions about the aluminum anniversary for “Empowered,” what keeps the series fresh, handing off artistic reins and what other 10th-year treats are on the way.

CBR: Adam, what’s the thrust of “Empowered and the Soldier of Love”?

Adam Warren: Well, this miniseries asks two key questions: 1) What happens to a “Sailor-Moon”-style “magical girl” who discovers, as a disillusioned grown-up, that having unearthly “love powers” isn’t quite as awesome as she thought it would be as a naive teenager? 2) And then what happens when this embittered magical girl sets her sights on an already chaotic and semi-deranged superhero universe like that of “Empowered”? Not surprisingly for the “Empverse,” what happens is everything goes to hell — but a goofily sexy and romantically supercharged kind of hell, needless to say! (Or did I need to say that, after all? Yes, I did! Ignore that previous “needless to say,” please.)

“Empowered and the Soldier of Love” #1 by Karla Diaz.

Emp and Ninjette have certainly gotten into some tangled situations in the past. How does this new foe’s arrival push them into new territory?

As “Empowered” readers well know, our long-suffering heroine Emp has endured plenty of cluelessness and stupidity from her fellow superheroes — or, less charitably, “douchecapes” — during her time in the field. Ah, but until this miniseries, she’s never before had to cope with the overheated, hormone-addled goofiness of godlike beings unhinged by love and/or lust — well, usually, both — as a mercenary magical girl’s powers turn the entire “supracommunity” upside down! As uncontrolled mask-and-tights sexiness rampages unchecked through her passion-paralyzed city, can a beleaguered Emp puzzle out the Soldier of Love’s apocalyptic endgame and save the day — or at least stop herself from slapping the crap outta her love-lobotomized, endlessly horny, perpetually “sexting” teammates?

Meanwhile, Emp’s BFF Ninjette is just along for the ride at first, katana and beer(s) in hand as she sardonically Shakes Her Damn Head at the unfolding spectacle. Ah, but by the story’s end, Ninjette will find out the hard way that she’s heartbreakingly vulnerable to the Soldier of Love’s misused magic, with shockingly dire consequences for everyone involved. Look out, Ninjette! (Also, look out, everyone involved!)

What other members of Emp’s crew will be most affected by Soldier of Love’s antics?

Well, the members of the “Superhomeys,” Emp’s already rather dysfunctional superteam, are hit hard by the Soldier-triggered surge of so-called “supraromantic churn.” In fact, three of Emp’s infatuation-incapacitated teammates spend much of their time onscreen—or “on-page” — more accurately, drooling into their smartphones while incessantly sexting back and forth with newly met superlovers — or “capes with benefits,” if you will. While the blobby Protean tests the waters of polyamory, Major Havoc and Yummy Mummy each drown in their own one-on-one sea of love, with an oblivious Yummy creeping out Emp and Ninjette with her incessant, disturbingly sexualized “daddy” chatter. (As Emp and Ninjette both have distinct sets of daddy issues, they have no time for such supposed “sexy talk.”) Meanwhile, hapless leader—and stainless-steel golem—Capitan Rivet struggles to hold the team together, making the Superhomeys HQ ring with the sound of one frustrated, Picard-style “facepalm” after another. Clang!

“Empowered and the Soldier of Love” #1 interior page by Adam Warren and Karla Diaz

You’ve worked with other artists on “Empowered” before, but this will be the longest “Empowered” story that you haven’t drawn yourself. Does that change your approach to writing?

To a degree, certainly. With a regular “Empowered” volume and its generous—if not excessive!—200+ pages, I’m allowed the luxury of planning out the book ahead of time, but then writing and drawing its pages essentially one at a time. This allows me a degree of spontaneity and flexibility that’s alien to my previous experiences in print comics, but not unlike how many webcomics are produced. Ah, but when writing for another artist, I need to take a more pragmatic and measured-out work approach, while still angling for as much playfulness and creative freedom as possible.

Gotta say that, while I’ve worked with “Guest Artists” — note the important capitalization! — on “Empowered” before, each previous occasion was a one-shot story. While I enjoyed each of these one-off collaborations, I found the abbreviated format a bit limiting, especially compared to the wide-open page count of regular “Empowered” volumes. Often, as a writer, I felt like I was just getting warmed up to both the story and the artist just as the single issue’s ending arrived. So, when Dark Horse and I were envisioning a new round of Guest Artist “Emp” projects for the series’ 10th anniversary in 2017, I was eager to try something more ambitious. Bolder, even! Daring-er! Also, importantly, longer—as in, hello, multiple-issue miniseries!

What does Karla Díaz bring to the page?

Well, from the moment I first stumbled across Karla’s work online, with her romantic comedy webcomic “NON-NON” as well as earlier online series “Cute Sins” and “Coffee Shop,” I was struck by both her hilariously expressive character work and her equally strong sense of high-energy visual humor. Of course, being a self-centered jerk as many if not most comics writers are, I immediately began obsessing over how these fine artistic qualities could be employed—nay, synergistically employed, to tell an “Empowered” story. The “Soldier of Love” character actually dated back to a separate, failed comic pitch years ago, but I’d long considered bringing her into the wacky ol’ “Empowered” universe — and Karla’s comedic sensibilities made her the perfect artist to handle the task! (Alas, all the ribbons, bows, pleats, frills and flounces of the Soldier’s flowery workwear drove me crazy every time I tried to draw her myself.)

So, after tracking down Karla online — bless you, sainted interweb! — and commissioning some sample artwork, I was thrilled with the character designs she worked up for the Soldier of Love and her magical pangolin mascot—er, that is, the Soldier’s magical mascot, not Karla’s. (I don’t think she has a talkative pet pangolin, but I could be wrong.) Her takes on existing characters Emp and Ninjette were just as much fun, with the wild “floofiness” of the latter’s ponytail being a particular flourish that cracks me up everytime I see it. Her pages for the actual issues have worked out even better, with all the energetic humor, visual flair and charming facial expression work I was hoping for — with a key bonus being her beautiful color art, as the Soldier’s story was one that very much needed to be told in full color. (Well, full color with a noted emphasis on pink, that is.)

Plus, gotta admit that I’m pleased to be able to give an opportunity to another manga-influenced artist, as the North American (print) comics field isn’t overwhelmingly open or welcoming to my sisters and brothers of that persuasion.

“Empowered and the Soldier of Love” #1 interior page by Adam Warren and Karla Diaz

As a follow-up to that thought, does manga’s large audience, but strangely small overlap with traditional comics market readership, ever affect your approach to “Empowered”?

Even though I’m all too aware of the divergence between audiences, I can’t say that it particularly affects my approach to the series. I just try to tell the best stories I can—whether humorous or action-packed or emotionally charged or daringly structured—and hope that they can reach some kind of readership. And so far, despite the inherent difficulties of being a manga-influenced series in a genre and field sometimes indifferent or even hostile to such a storytelling preference, “Empowered” has indeed managed to find an appreciative audience. Yay!

I should add that, now that “Empowered” is being serialized online from the series’ beginning, I’ve encountered yet another avenue of audience divergence—and that would be the often stark divide between readers of webcomics and print comics, two groups whose Venn diagrams seem to have surprisingly little overlap at times. Well, given the neither-fish-nor-fowl flexibility inherent to “Empowered,” I’m always happy to bl under the series headlong into areas of comics bifurcation!

Even after you started the first “Empowered” story, well after the first drawing that planted the kernel of an idea, could you ever have imagined it thriving 10 years later?

Ah, no, not in the slightest! In those bygone, dawn-era days of noodling aimlessly away at the one-off jokes that would gradually evolve into “Empowered,” I could not possibly have imagined that these modest, low-key, ambition-free strips would somehow transform themselves into the most epic, emotionally charged, surprisingly ambitious and longest-running project of my entire g-d career! Back in the beginning, I wasn’t thinking 10 days ahead, let alone 10 years. In fact, back then I assumed that I was just temporarily messing around with these goofy superhero strips before starting work for a major publisher on one of my other “Real Serious, All-Grown-Up, Brace Yourselves For My Career-Fulfilling Magnum Opus” comic proposals. Ah, but none of those big-deal pitches ever got off the ground, while “Empowered” still soars ever higher skyward! Fly, “Empowered,” fly!

“Empowered and the Soldier of Love” #1 interior page by Adam Warren and Karla Diaz

What else do you have in the works?

Well, as 2017 represents the 10th anniversary of Empowered’s first publication, Dark Horse and I are aiming for a big push for the series during this upcoming year. Next up will be the summer release of “Empowered” vol. 10, the next 216-page, drawn-by-me installment in the regular graphic-novel series. Beyond that, we’ll have more exciting Emp-related announcements throughout the rest of 2017, including further—and bolder!—developments on the Guest Artist miniseries front!

Lemme also hasten to mention that “Empowered” is now being serialized as a webcomic, with extensive — if not exhaustive — creator commentary on every single g-d page, folks! Why, we even have the very first “Empowered” merchandise ever created now available on the site, as a series of 12” X 18” color prints over in the “Store” link! You can check out the webcomic here: http://ift.tt/1HLU2fw

Beyond “Empowered,” I can assure you that I’m also hustling and scheming and conniving to get a few other projects underway. No, really! “Irons in the fire” and all that, blah blah blah. As much as I enjoy working on “Empowered” — and have no intention of stopping work on it any time soon — I do have other stories I’d like to tell.

“Empowered & The Soldier of Love” #1 is on sale now from Dark Horse Comics.

The post INTERVIEW: Adam Warren on A Decade of ‘Goofily Sexy’ Series Empowerment appeared first on CBR.com.

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