#also for the record im not policing up until what age you can be a twink. this is just how gay men say it works.

[theloopus]

to me BJ is butch in the gay man way like he's a butch queen but he's more femme than Hawkeye. meanwhile Hawkeye is more masculine but more effeminate. also Hawkeye was a twink but now he's in his 30s and graying so he's just some fag. you understand

#re: NEXT post because my queue fucked up #/mash #/beejhawk #txt #if we're talking the lesbian way then bj is the butch. because of the caretaking. but he'd be a faggy butch. and hawkeye would be his femme #but like the kinda femme who wears the same tshirt 3 days in a row you know #also for the record im not policing up until what age you can be a twink. this is just how gay men say it works.

[quokkacore]

with great power I [lee jeno]

summary: there are two things jeno loves most about his life. one being spiderman, the other being you, his best friend. there’s just one issue: after your father’s death, you decide you hate both spiderman and yourself.

pairing: lee jeno x reader

genre: superhero au, high school au, coming of age, best friends to strangers(ish) to lovers, fluff, ANGST, minor crack

warnings (for this chapter): language, violence, gun violence, the mafia, parental death, police presence, sexual references, bullying (ily san im sorry), the dreamies being dicks to each other, police corruption, towards the end jeno experiences something similar to sensory overload, americanized names, pop culture references, VERY jeno centric

song rec: we go up - nct dream // any song - zico // 21 questions - waterparks // talk (remix feat. megan thee stallion & yo gotti) - khalid // sunrise - ateez // i really like you - carly rae jepsen // dare - gorillaz // stray kids - the tortoise and the hare

word count: 10.5k

a/n: this is so late...... i blame attack on titan. but hey!! better late than never :] a huge thanks to @doderyscoffee​ for beta reading <3

main masterlist // story masterlist

chapter one: jeno and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

Jeno despised Tuesdays. He was pretty sure that Tuesdays despised Jeno as well because all of his worst days just so happen to be Tuesdays. He was 96% sure that, if there was a god, his day off was on Tuesdays, or that the planets aligned in such a manner on Tuesdays that it caused universal despair and misery. If he was to take Donghyuck's word for it, his chakra attracted negative energy the most on Tuesdays.

When Jeno was 5, his goldfish Pippin had died on a Tuesday. When he had his ass handed to him on the playground by San Choi in the third grade, it was a Tuesday. And in the seventh grade, he'd failed his Spanish test, missed his bus and walked home in the rain only to find out that his Aunt Sunny was at work, he'd left his keys in his locker and that had to wait an hour before she got home to unlock it for him, all on a Tuesday. 

And wouldn't you know it, here he was, late for the first day of senior year, which was, of all days, a godforsaken Tuesday.

In his eternal wisdom, he'd stayed up gaming with Renjun until two in the morning, and because of it, slept through his three alarms, one set at six-thirty, the other at 6:45, the last one at 7:00. 

He'd woken up at 7:17, to the sound of his elderly neighbor's pet chihuahua barking at a pigeon, checked the time, immediately panicked, sped into the shower, gotten dressed in a haste, grabbed a few granola bars from the pantry, and ran out the door while trying to jam his backpack closed, and managed to catch the train at 7:40, which took about twenty minutes to get to his stop, plus a ten-minute walk to school, and class started at 8:10. Not to mention he’d have to stop by the office and pick up his schedule. At best, he’d be five minutes late to his first class. But tardies were tardies, regardless, and the last thing he needed was to lose his perfect attendance streak. 

He fished out his phone while standing on the train, waiting for his stop, scrolling through Instagram, and liking random pictures. A ping! from his phone caught his attention, then two, then a third. He smiled softly when your name popped up on his screen.

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM] 

y/n: i can sEE u online on ig u know

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

jeno: it's the school district's fault, why would they make the first day of school on a fkn TUESDAY 

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

jeno: it'll end up on my permanent record and i'm not gonna get into college and then i'm gonna die,,,

[7:52 AM] 

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear 

y/n: FIRST OF ALL permanent records dont even exist !!!!!! its propaganda duh

y/n: also ur literally never late 

y/n: im sure o n e tardy wont do anything chill

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

Don’t be stupid. Too little, too late, he thought, already having got off the train at a previous stop. Now, he was looking for an unoccupied street or alleyway, which, for once, was easy, taking a deep breath before he did the exact opposite of what you’d told him not to do. Don’t be stupid. 

The buildings are low, he thought to himself, it’ll be easier to see me. 

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

Jeno didn’t hesitate to use the web fluid to pull himself up onto the wall, climbing in a haste, before running and jumping onto the next building. He quickly built up a quick pace, using the web fluid occasionally to swing onto a building slightly out of jumping range. 

Signs in English, Chinese, Korean, and Spanish flew past him as he seemingly flew over the Queens traffic, leaving Flushing behind and crossing quickly into College Point quicker than he would if he took the train. He glanced to his left and caught a view of the bay, and far across it, the LaGuardia airport watchtower.

Jeno had lived in New York City his entire life. He knew Queens like the back of his hand, knew every dingy alleyway, every sketchy street, which restaurants to avoid if you didn’t want to get food poisoning, which convenience store aunties were the nicest and didn’t pinch his cheeks too hard. It was his home, and most likely would be for the rest of his life. 

But seeing it like this, flying past him below as he glided with ease from building to building would never cease to be a sight to him. It was like watching from the perspective of an outsider, seeing people in their cars, walking along the street gave him a brand new perspective. A Jeno’s eye view, he called it, since he was pretty sure he was the only one in New York City.

Another noise from his phone brought him back to reality. He shook his head, stopping briefly to catch his breath and fish out his phone briefly. 

[7:57 AM] 

y/n: let me know when u get here !!!

No time to respond, he put away the phone and continued his trek to school. He had less than ten minutes to get there. But he knew he was already at least five minutes away, much quicker than he would be if he had decided to stick to the train. He smiled a bit to himself, feeling ever so slightly smug.

The hustle and bustle of the city definitely proved challenging to find a place to land without many eyes, but he figured it out eventually, landing behind a dumpster in an alleyway behind a restaurant that he knew was about three or four blocks from the school. He figured it would be a lot better to take it on foot from here. The notebooks he was carrying in his backpack bounced up and down with every step he took. 

After what seemed like forever, the gates to the school appeared in his view, and Jeno felt a joy in his heaving chest, something he would have never thought would happen upon seeing the absolute hellhole that was Samuel Morse High School. 

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

Picking up his schedule was both quick and insanely long. He couldn’t stop himself from tapping his left foot while the secretary found his schedule and handed it to him. “Kibum, please hurry,” He muttered, and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, but his gaze was teasing. “That’s Mr. Kim to you, in school at least.” 

He handed Jeno his schedule a few seconds later. “Tell your Aunt to come pick up her casserole dish, by the way. She left it at my house after my last viewing party.”

“The Bachelor?”

“Please. We’re too classy for that. Drag Race.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Jeno,” Kibum said, staring up at him from his desk, his gaze now much more serious, “Get to class. Happy first day of senior year.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

He managed to make it to chemistry class at 8:09 with seconds to spare. His eyes quickly scanned the room upon entering, hoping his friends were in the class with him. He caught a few familiar faces, most of which, like San Choi's, he wished to avoid. No one paid him any mind. Everyone was still speaking to the people next to them, no doubt exchanging stories of summer vacation. 

  A hand shot up towards the back, waving at him. A smile stretched across his face as he registered your face, feet not hesitating to carry him towards the empty seat next to you. His heart skipped a beat at seeing your smile, and he tried his best to ignore it.

“Hey,” You greeted, “That was fast. I thought you said you were gonna be late.”

Jeno shrugged, eyes landing on the dark shade of the lab table. “The train was a lot faster than I expected, apparently.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you smell so bad?”

“I, uh… ran a little.” 

You grimaced, and Jeno tried to casually sniff at his slightly sweaty clothes. It’s not that bad. “I still don’t understand why you won’t let me drive you to school. You’re literally next door.”

“I don’t know,” He answered, rolling his eyes, “Maybe it’s because when it comes to that truck, you are absolutely insane. You won’t even let me drink water in that thing.”

The truck in question, a faded red 1998 Chevrolet S-10, had been your gift to yourself for your 17th birthday. You’d spent two summers saving up to buy yourself a truck, and that was what you were able to get for what you had. To say it was a huge piece of junk on wheels was an understatement. 

The thing smelled like mothballs no matter how many air fresheners you bought it, the engine sounded like an old man having a coughing fit, and there was a very suspicious stain in the backseat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you scrubbed it. But for some reason, you treated it like it was your own baby. The amount of times you’d yelled at Jaemin for trying to put his feet on the dashboard was too high to count.

You mirrored his movement, eyes rolling as you sighed. “At least let me drive you home after school today. Maybe you can stay and we can finally watch Blade Runner.”

You’d been trying to get him to watch the film for almost a month now, begging and pleading because you insisted that he’d love it. He offered an awkward stare, before opening his backpack and pulling out a notebook. “Can’t,” He mumbled, “I’m headed into Manhattan. I have my internship afterwards.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said nonchalantly, eyebrows shooting up as you remembered, “Park Industries.” 

He was about to reply when Mrs. Baker, the chemistry teacher, finally entered. She’d been working at SMHS for 30 years and had never, apparently, been nice, if his Aunt Sunny’s stories were anything to go by. However, she had apparently always spoken as if she smoked two packs a day. She was rambling about the importance of making the most of senior year academically, adult responsibilities, college, and whatnot. You and Jeno exchanged glances often throughout the monologue, hoping it would end soon. 

“Enough of that,” She said after what seemed like an eternity, “Everyone quiet down, I’m going to call roll.”

Names were quickly called, and Jeno was ready to pull out a pencil and start working with you until Mrs Baker demanded a switch in seats, beginning to call on random names in an effort to deter everyone from speaking. 

"Please not with Choi, please not with Choi," Jeno muttered under his breath, glancing warily at San, who was staring ahead, looking bored. 

San had had it out for Jeno ever since day one, in first grade. For some reason, everything Jeno did seemed to annoy the other boy. He wasn't funny enough, or too nerdy, or too quiet. Jeno was always too much or too little for him. 

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you. 

“You’ll be fine,” You said softly, trying not to alert the teacher, “You’re not gonna get paired up with him, and you can take it to the office if you need to.” “Yeah, because I’m sure Coach Peralta would be thrilled if someone tried to get his precious midfielder in trouble.”

“Choi, San,” Mrs Baker’s voice rang throughout the room, and Jeno braced himself for the worst, eyebrows furrowing with worry. 

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.” 

Jeno’s shoulders slumped, but your face remained impassive. You picked up your stuff, and pouted silently at Jeno in apology, before making your way to the front. 

“Lee, Jeno,” Mrs Baker called a few minutes later, “You’ll be sitting with Jang, Yeeun.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Yeeun is nice, Jeno thought to himself, I could sit with Yeeun. She wasn’t part of his main friend group, but he had tutored her in math during sophomore year in exchange for her helping him with Spanish, and they’d been pretty friendly ever since. 

“Hey,” Yeeun greeted as Jeno sat down, and Jeno smiled at her. 

“Remember, these will be your assigned lab partners for the rest of the semester. No changes, no exceptions.” Mrs. Baker sat down at her desk, before beginning to talk about something Jeno didn’t really pay attention to.

You exchanged glances with Jeno, and he gave you a look of sympathy as you gestured at San with your eyes. San was talking to you about something—probably bragging about some soccer achievement—but you weren’t paying him much attention. Jeno swallowed something growing in his throat as he looked at how your hair looked today. 

It was nothing relatively new, the same hairstyle you used on most days. But still, there was a bit of a shine to it. He wondered vaguely if you had changed your shampoo, the other day you’d been complaining about how itchy your normal shampoo made your scalp—

“You still haven’t told her about how you feel?” Yeeun asked quietly, and Jeno’s head snapped back to look at her, eyes wide.

“W-what? Me. Like Y/N…” He laughed nervously, trying to keep his voice down. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding Yeeun’s accusatory stare. “You’re hilarious, Yeeun. Tell another one.”

Yeeun shook her head. “You’d better hurry before someone else snatches her up, Jen. She’s not gonna wait around for you forever.”

 “I don’t like her, Yeeun.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

“Hey! Jaemin Na! What do you want!” Jeno answered as he sat down, mimicking Jaemin’s tone next to him.

“Well, for starters, a million dollars, and second, a date with Yiren Wang, but I doubt you can help me with either of those, so...”

Jeno glanced at the rest of the table. Along with Jaemin, Mark,  Renjun, Donghyuck, and you were watching the interaction between the pair. “Where are the munchkins?” Jeno asked, noticing Chenle and Jisung’s absence. No one could really call them munchkins anymore. That nickname dated back to middle school, before the two underclassmen had gone through growth spurts.

“Eh, they should be here soon,” Renjun said, chewing on a french fry, “How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good so far, I guess. I got AP Calc with Mr. Washington later, though. That man wants me dead.”

You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t want you dead. I’m telling you, you and Hyuck have been spending way too much time together. You’re being more dramatic than usual and Hyuck’s being more… weird than usual.”

“And just what is so weird about being enthusiastic about senior year, Y/N?” Donghyuck asked, shaking his head, “It’s our last year in this hellhole, I’m excited that we’re finally getting out of here. And besides—”

“Please don’t bring up the fact that you’re abandoning us next year.” Chenle seemingly appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to Renjun, Jisung following quickly behind him.

“Hi, Sungie,” You said with a smile, and Jisung smiled back. “Hi, Y/N.”

“What were you saying, Hyuck?” Jaemin looked at Donghyuck, who had taken the quick interaction as an opportunity to take a bite of his sandwich. His wide eyes darted to the slim boy, cheeks stuffed with chicken. 

“Oh,” He replied after swallowing, “This is gonna be my year. I’m getting male lead for the winter musical and no one is gonna stop me.”

“Do you even know what musical you guys are doing yet?” Mark asked, “What if it’s like… Shrek?”

Jisung made a face. “There’s a Shrek musical?”

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

“I don’t know about male lead, if it’s Shrek. You should try out for Donkey,” The Chinese boy joked, “With those front teeth, you’re a shoo-in.”

The entire table was silent for a moment, before snorts and chortles started pouring out from everyone except Donghyuck.

“Fuck you, Huang.” 

Renjun flashed the friendliest smile he could muster. “Not if you paid me a million dollars.”

The subject remained on extracurriculars, everyone in your group except for Chenle and Jisung now wary of college applications. Donghyuck had been in theater ever since middle school, Renjun was in the robotics club and the debate team with Jaemin, who was also in the student council. Mark was on the math team with Jeno, and you had founded the film club. 

"You're not gonna believe who asked to sign up for film," You huffed, looking kind of confused. The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, and you pursed your lips, almost as if you were trying not to laugh.

"San Choi."

Renjun scoffed. Jaemin raised his eyebrows before letting out a single, humorless laugh. Jeno made a face, poking his plastic fork at you. 

"What is San Choi doing asking to sign up for film?"

"Fuck if I know. He said he needed one more extracurricular if he wanted to get into some college in Florida and he liked going to the movies, so he wanted to try out film."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I swear there's nothing in that guy's head but hot gas. It blows my mind."

"He's a dick," Chenle grumbled, "I'm still not over how he and Wooyoung taped Jisung to the flagpole last year."

Jisung scowled. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."

“Do you think they’ll finally calm the fuck down this year?” Jaemin wondered, looking wistful.

You took a sip of your coke and shook your head. “Doubt it. They’re not the hateful eight for a reason.”

The mood at the table turned tense, until Jaemin frowned at his french fries, before sighing and clapping his hands together dramatically. “I would like to hear,” He mused, “About the nuance that theatre gives the cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek when converted into musical form.”

Donghyuck beamed. “Oh, it’s amazing. You see…”

If it was difficult to get Donghyuck to stop talking in general, it was impossible when it was about theater.

The conversation continued on until the bell rang, and the eight of you had to go your separate ways. Jaemin and Jeno had the same class, so they both walked together down a relatively calm hallway. Jaemin looked both ways, before finally lowering his voice. 

“So, you’re going to see Mr. Park today?”

Jeno nodded, looking down at his shoes. “He said he wanted to give me an assignment. Says there’s something big going on.”

Jaemin’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Did he say what kind of something?” 

Jeno shook his head, pouting slightly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.” 

Once school was out, Jeno was getting ready to get onto the subway once again, this time heading towards Midtown. It was only day one and, as Jeno had predicted, Mr. Washington probably was out to get him, because he’d swamped the class with homework.

As he left the school, he spotted you in the parking lot, leaning against your car door, texting someone. He glanced at his phone. He still had plenty of time, he figured. He walked over to you, and when you looked up, you smiled. 

“Hey!” Your voice had that signature tone of enthusiasm to it, and Jeno smiled back immediately. 

“Hello,” He sing-songed. “So, I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?”

You looked somewhere above his head, furrowing your eyebrows before you perked up again and nodded. “Yep! Why?”

“I’m free after nine. Maybe then I could come over to your house? So I can finally get you to stop harassing me about Blade Runner.”

You grinned, pumping your fists enthusiastically. “Hell yes,” You answered, “Do you want me to get like, some frozen pizzas or something?” 

“Pizza sounds good,” He said. “Who are you even waiting for?” 

You made a face that made it seem as if you’d just gotten a whiff of rotten milk. “Well—”

Your response was interrupted when the school doors slammed open, and eight figures poured out, carrying themselves with confidence Jeno both envied and despised. He frowned, trying not to react at their loud whooping and laughing. The Hateful Eight.

“Oh.” Jeno averted his gaze, meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. If you don’t hear from me later it’s because I jumped out of my truck because I don’t wanna work with—”

“Well, hello, gorgeous!” San’s voice filled the parking lot, and Jeno took a deep breath. Your mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile at the unwanted ‘compliment’. 

“Hey, San.” Your friendly passive aggressive tone almost made Jeno smile. “I’ve been waiting here for like, fifteen minutes. You could have just given me your number and asked me to send you pictures of my notes, you know.”

He shrugged, turning his body so that his back was turned to Jeno. “Sorry, babe. Coach wanted to talk to us about the upcoming season. When he gets going, it’s hard to get him to stop. And besides, where’s the fun in just asking for pictures when I could come here, talk to you, and take the pictures myself?”

You didn’t respond, but rather pulled out your backpack and began digging through it. When you pulled out your notebook, you handed it to San, who flashed a wink at you. You barely held back a gag. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.” 

He walked over to the hood of your truck, and just as you were about to continue your conversation, two figures slung their arms around both of Jeno’s shoulders, causing him to flinch. 

Out of the fifteen soccer players on the team, San and his best friends—seven of them, to be precise—were the worst. The others were pretty nice. But right now, seeing two of those seven surround your best friend made you uneasy. 

Wooyoung was loud. He was also a temperamental brat. His dad owned three used car dealerships over in Brooklyn, so naturally, he thought he owned the entire world. He wasn’t someone who would get too physical in fights, like San, or Jongho, or Yeosang. But when he was angry, he could easily get you to jump into the stratosphere by yelling at you once. Over the years, he’d made several teaching assistants and substitute teachers cry, only getting let off with a slap on the wrist every time. 

 Yunho was terrifying for completely different reasons. He was friendly, but a little too friendly to the people he wanted to control. He could read people like books and could easily manipulate whoever he wanted. But he wasn’t afraid of getting physical either, especially not when he was built like a goddamn Power Rangers Megazord. 

All in all, they definitely weren't anyone you wanted near you, near your friends. Especially considering how much they had it out for your friends. 

"Hey, buddy," Yunho said, looking down at Jeno with a wide smile. "How was summer vacation?"

Jeno gnawed on the side of his cheek as he considered his answer. "Um, it was okay." He looked at you to catch your eyes darting between San, Yunho and Wooyoung, like you were analyzing the situation. "I kinda stayed in and played video games most of the t—"

"Cool, cool," Yunho answered, carding his free hand through his bleach blond hair. "What about you, Woo?"

"Oh, dude, it was so cool," He bragged, "I went to Brazil for like, a month. I went clubbing with Instagram models and shit, it was wild."

You stared at him as he patted Jeno on the back rather aggressively. "Where did you go? Have you ever even left New York?" 

You knew the answer. Only a few times when the debate team went to compete in different states. Jeno spoke up again. "Well, yeah a few t—"

"Doubt it," Yunho scoffed. He craned his head back. "San, you done yet?"

"Almost!" San answered. Yunho turned to face you, and for some reason his smile seemed genuinely kind. “What about you, Y/N?”

You never understood why it was that the soccer team hated your entire friend group, but seemed to tolerate you. It made no sense.

So you shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. Did my summer reading. Hung out with my friends.” You flashed a reassuring smile at Jeno. “Right, Jen?”

Immediately, he relaxed a little bit. “Yeah.”

San appeared from behind Yunho, Jeno and Wooyoung. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

You waved your hand, wanting them to get rid of them quickly. “Don’t mention it. But next time, just text me for my notes. I have to get to work, so…”

“Oh! My bad,” He answered with fake remorse, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. “Here. For next time.”

You stifled a deep sigh, punching in the numbers hesitantly. “Just for homework, got it?”

San took his phone back, holding a hand over his heart and raised his head. “On a gentleman's honor,” He declared, and you bit back a laugh. Jeno looked like he was going to hurl.

“San!” The team captain—Hongjoong—called from a few feet away, “Are you guys done yet or what?”

“Coming!” San yelled back.

“Alright, we’ll let you go,” Wooyoung said, patting Jeno on the back again, a bit too harsh for comfort. “Bye, Y/N! See you around.”

 The three of them stalked off, leaving you and a very frazzled Jeno. “Dicks,” You muttered once they were out of earshot. “You good?”

Jeno shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

“I gotta go,” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, offering a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Be careful!” 

Jeno offered a deep bow, fluttering his eyelashes. “On a gentleman’s honor,” He sighed, adding a very bad British accent to it. You burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.

You didn’t catch the way Jeno’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

The train ride into Midtown didn’t take too long. He spent it digging through his backpack for his Park Industries lanyard, listening to music and thinking about you.

When you talk right to me 

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving 

You running back to me

You’d met Jeno when you were six. Truth be told, he didn’t really remember. For him it was like you weren’t there at one point and by the time you were, you were thicker than thieves. It was a difficult time for him. He had just lost both of his parents, and was moving in with his Aunt Sunny and his Uncle Jinki, who were barely out of college at the time. He’d had to move to a new school and basically restart his entire life. You were the first sense of stability in his life for months. 

Your mom lived next to his aunt and uncle. So naturally, you went to the same school and went on the same bus. And somewhere along the way, you two clicked. You’d introduced him to Renjun, Jaemin and Donghyuck. You were there to comfort him whenever he got pushed off the slide by San or Wooyoung. 

He was there for you when your stepdad and stepbrother moved in when you were nine and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. He was there when your mom died when you were thirteen. He’d introduced you and your friends to Mark, Chenle and Jisung. 

And you were there when his Uncle Jinki got killed when he was fifteen. And because fate had an especially cruel sense of irony, it had happened on a Tuesday. You didn’t know, but at the time, he had just gotten his powers. Your comfort and words unknowingly had a secondary effect: he made the decision to use them for good, and… well. The rest was history. 

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

Just like when he met you, he didn’t recall an exact moment where he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He knew there was a world where he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you. And he knew that there was a world here he’d fallen in love with you—he was living in that world now. He realized he was living in that world maybe when he was sixteen, and had been stuck in it ever since. 

You were it for him. He’d had crushes before. But never something like this, where he was so aware of your presence around him. It wasn’t the way he was hyper aware of someone like San, or like Yunho or Jongho. It wasn’t out of anxiety or fear, where a shift in mood activated his fight or flight. He was aware of you in a way that only people who truly know each other do, where he could pick up on subtle changes in your behavior, but not out of fear. Rather, out of a desire to take care of you and to not have you worry about anything. 

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

As the train rolled into the station that was a fifteen minute walk from Park Tower, Jeno put away his headphones and took a deep breath.

The “Jeno Tingle” as his Aunt Sunny called it—Jeno hated the term—had taken him a few years to gain control of. And while he could never truly turn it off, he could at least tune it out enough to be more at ease. The only time he did so was at school or when he was studying, just because he wanted to feel normal, and because being aware of everything going on around him really messed with his concentration. 

Jaemin didn’t understand. “If I was able to tell whenever Seonghwa was behind me because he wanted to scare me into doing his chemistry homework, I’d never turn that shit off,” He’d said once. But truthfully, Jeno didn’t really care. Because while yes, he was still slightly scared of the “hateful eight”, he knew damn well that if things got to be too much, he could kick their asses if he wanted to. 

It was his friends he worried about. He couldn’t be around them 24/7. You, not so much. He knew you knew how to fight. Even worse, he knew that San had the hots for you so you were off limits to the rest of them, be it bullying or flirting. But for everyone else… Well. He couldn’t hover over them like some guardian angel. 

Now that the “Jeno Tingle” was on, it allowed him to sense everyone within a certain range around him. He could zero in on certain sounds with ease, and his reflexes became heightened. Halfway on his walk up Park Avenue, he jumped away from a chihuahua on its leash a second before it started barking at him.

When he entered the first floor lobby of the Park Building, he scoured the crowd of employees and visitors until he landed on one familiar face. 

He'd met Doyoung about a year after his dad started dating your mom. Things between your parents were starting to get serious, and Doyoung was four years older than you were. When they moved into your house, Doyoung as your new stepbrother became the de facto chaperone and babysitter. If you wanted to go to the mall with Jeno, he had to take you. Every time you dragged Jeno to the movies, Doyoung had to go also. 

To an extent, it wasn't that bad. Doyoung was cool, and he was smart—he was the one who got Jeno interested in computers and chemistry. He graduated high school at 16, and finished his bachelor's degree at 19. He'd also interned at Park Industries, and secured a job there almost immediately after college. 

To an extent, he was the whole reason Mr. Park knew who he was, because of one incident. It was relatively soon after he started the whole vigilante thing. Jeno, still figuring out how to maneuver on the webs that shot out of his wrists, had accidentally crashed into your backyard late at night, when only Doyoung was awake. He was standing in the back door while he was waiting for his dog to finish peeing. 

Initially, the older boy had freaked out, thinking that it was a burglar or something. When he yelled out that his dad was a cop and was asleep in the house, Jeno panicked, and pulled off his mask, holding up his hands.

“Woah, woahwoahwoah! Doyoung! It’s me, it’s me!” 

Doyoung’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, paying no mind to the dog as it sauntered up to Jeno, before turning onto its back in a request for belly rubs.

"You're the spider guy everyone's been talking about!?"

"Spider man," Jeno had answered, voice cracking as he dusted himself off. He cringed at the sound of his voice. "...and yes."

Of course, his cover was blown, and he'd begged Doyoung not to tell anyone, especially not you. And while Doyoung had promised not to tell you, it didn't stop him from telling his boss. 

That had been almost three years ago now. The rest was history, and after that Jeno didn’t have to run around in bright red sweatpants and dollar store swimming goggles. Now, he had a nanotech suit that allowed him to activate protocols of the suit through voice commands using something top-secret Mr. Park called D.R.E.A.M technology. Direct Response Engaged As Machine—yeah, Jeno didn’t get it either. 

Doyoung offered Jeno a smile as he escorted Jeno past security, showing them his employee clearance pass. "Hey. How have you been?"

Jeno shrugged, recounting his day in minor detail as he was led into an elevator labeled authorized personnel only. 

This elevator only went up to the 35th floor, seeing as everything past that was only cleared for a certain list of people approved by Mr. Park and his security team, and everything past the 90th floor were Mr. Park's private living quarters. 

Now, as Doyoung led him to another elevator to head up to the 85th floor, which was always where Jeno got to meet with Mr. Park—which wasn't often, maybe once or twice a year—he wondered where he would be if he hadn’t surprised Doyoung that night. He would probably still be using those ugly red sweatpants as part of his disguise.

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked. 

"Oh, she seems okay. That guy who hates me keeps coming onto her though. He's a huge douchebag."

Doyoung frowned. "He's not harassing her, is he? Because if he is—"

"He just won't stop flirting, even though she clearly isn't interested," Jeno said bitterly, "He isn't physical or anything. Trust me, it wouldn't end well for him if he was."

Doyoung wasn't quite sure how to respond to the younger boy's dark tone. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So… how’s the apartment?” Jeno asked. Doyoung perked up instantly.

“Oh, now that Taeyong’s moved in and did his interior design thing, it looks great. He’s really done a great job at it.”

“When am I gonna meet this guy? He sounds cool.”

“He’s really cool,” Doyoung hummed, cheeks heating up. “Things are getting really serious.”

Jeno smiled at how flustered Doyoung, who was normally so level headed and calm, became at the mention of his boyfriend.

“You guys sound like a really good couple,” He said. Doyoung chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, well—” 

 The elevator dinged, and Doyoung sighed. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.”

The hallway it opened up to was lined with pictures of the company's history, starting from pictures of black and white of people in vintage clothing, to pictures in sepia tones to finally pictures of the current CEO at locations around the world: Chanyeol Park.

Jeno walked behind Doyoung as he led him down the hallway, before stopping in front of a door, and a friendly looking man in a suit. 

Junmyeon was a part of Chanyeol’s Security and Intelligence team, and often sat in on these meetings with Jeno. The chain of contact also included him. If Jeno couldn’t contact Doyoung (which rarely happened), he’d contact Junmyeon. And if he couldn’t contact either of them, or it was an emergency, only then could he contact Chanyeol. So far, that had only happened once.

"Hey, Junmyeon," Doyoung said, "Mr. Park's 4:30 is here." 

Junmyeon nodded, before smiling at Jeno and giving him a wave. "Hey, kid."

Jeno offered an awkward grin. "Hi, Mr. Kim."

Junmyeon rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Kid, you're making me feel ancient. I've told you a million times, just call me Junmyeon."

Jeno shuffled awkwardly, before nodding at the older man, watching as he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hey, Yeol. Jeno's here."

The muffled response was barely heard, but Jeno automatically understood what Mr. Park said. Junmyeon turned to open the door, and let the pair inside. The “office”—if it could even be called that—opened up to more of a lounge, than anything. A wall of glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline, but Jeno knew that from the outside it looked only like a wall, due to camouflage technology developed by Mr. Park himself. As Doyoung and Junmyeon stayed back, closer to the door, Jeno took a few steps toward the man in question.

Chanyeol was standing a few feet in front of the glass window, working on a holographic model of a new piece of tech. His face was turned downward in a concentrated frown. He barely spared the teenager a glance as he said fondly, “Hey, kid.”

Jeno was used to this. Chanyeol wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t warm at all. He knew that Chanyeol cared about him, even if he didn’t really show it in a conventional way. Chanyeol was a very… eccentric man, so he had his own way of saying and doing things. 

“Hi, Mr. Park. Um… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yep! Needed some help from the friendly neighborhood Spiderman… A little birdie told me about something going on in Queens.”

“Queens?” Jeno asked, gripping the straps of his backpack. “You mean, other than the usual stuff?”

“Other than the usual stuff,” Chanyeol repeated, nodding. With a wave of his hand, the hologram disappeared, and another one appeared in its place. This time, instead of a 3D model, a few pictures and another, smaller 3D model appeared. Chanyeol turned to face him, frown deepening. He pointed at the model—a long, shiny oval-shaped purple stone. It reminded Jeno of an amethyst, but instead of turning white at the base, it turned to an iridescent jade tone. “You know what this is, right?”

Jeno nodded, remembering seeing the rocks all over the news when he was a kid. “That’s… that’s a Chitauri stone. From the invasion a few years back.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing up straight. “These stones have the potential to power weapons with no need to recharge, or change them out. They’re an infinite, extremely strong power source, Jeno, and in the wrong hands can be very dangerous.”

Jeno took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink slowly. Chanyeol sighed. “Cleanup of the city after the invasion was long, and difficult, and obviously the government and the company weren’t able to get everything. It caused a black market to pop up. Now, the NYPD has been investigating it for years, but they have their limits… that’s where you come in.”

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol gave him a crooked, reassuring smile. He pointed at one of the pictures, which was of a man who most likely didn’t know he was photographed. He was walking somewhere, face looking angry and stern.

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

Jeno shook his head, and Chanyeol turned his head to nod at Junmyeon. “You’re up, tough guy.”

Junmyeon huffed, before walking up to Jeno. He put his hand on Jeno’s shoulder as if he could tell that he was growing anxious. 

“Jeno, that’s Henry Duke. From what we understand on the intel team, he’s one of the cornerstones of the alien tech black market. He’s one of the top dogs. From what we understand, he likes to be present for all major negotiations that his group makes. A source of ours told us that there’s going to be a negotiation on Friday night not too far away from LaGuardia. We want you to go out there and just get a feel of what’s going on.”

“Just watch them, right?” Jeno looked at Junmyeon, who patted his back reassuringly. “Just watch. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.”

“You can do that, right?” Chanyeol said quietly, crossing his arms. “Because if not, then it’s totally—”

“Yeah, of course I can! Friday—shit, Friday. At what time are they supposed to be meeting up?”

Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, before answering, “Around eight or nine.”

Jeno bit his lip, thinking about the promise he’d made to you. It would just have to wait, he supposed. Chanyeol rarely asked anything this big of him.

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together. 

“Perfect.” 

They discussed logistics briefly after. Doyoung would be on call with Jeno, his custom made suit allowing them to communicate, letting Doyoung see everything Jeno was seeing via a video feed coming from the ultra thin lenses placed in the white eye sockets of the mask. Doyoung would then report to Junmyeon, who would report to Chanyeol, who would probably report to the FBI. Jeno was only to engage if absolutely necessary.

After that, he set out on patrol. He usually found some discreet place to hide his backpack, and then went all over Queens looking for trouble, quite literally. Around five thirty, he stopped a robbery in Murray Hill. Then, around seven, he stopped a man from stealing a woman’s purse in Elmhurst. Nothing too much.

Around eight, he finally headed home, this time dressed normally, using the train and not web fluid. He walked home, tired, knowing that he’d immediately have to do that cursed AP calc homework. When he got home, he opened his backpack pocket to look for his keys, rummaging between his notebooks and other things. 

Shuffling through his stuff, he furrowed his eyebrows as he couldn’t find them. Thinking back, he remembered this morning, when he’d left in a rush… and had very obviously left his keys on his desk.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, remembering that Aunt Sunny had said she’d be working overtime tonight. He could very easily sneak in through his window, but he was pretty sure he’d locked it the night before, and it was too early. People’s lights were still on—anyone could see him if they just looked up, and then he would be screwed. 

Huffing and zipping his backpack up, he marched up to your house, before ringing the doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet, until the door opened up. A familiar man with a face just like Doyoung's, but older, with graying hair and arms scarred and muscled from years of working on the police force stood in the doorway.

“Jeno?” Your dad offered him a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jeno said, smiling back. He shifted nervously. “I, um… I left my keys in my room this morning, and my aunt’s working late, so… could I… maybe wait here? Y/N’s home, right?” 

The man nodded. “Of course, of course. Come in!” 

Your dad had always been super friendly, even from the day Jeno had first met him. You'd told Jeno once that he was the only real father figure you'd ever had. Once everything settled after him and your mom got married, you started calling him dad altogether. And since you and Jeno were practically glued at the hip, he got along with your dad almost as well as you did.

“Okay.” Jeno stepped in and set down his backpack at the base of the coat rack next to the door, as he’d done a million times before. Jeno stepped into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at your dad.

"I think Y/N's in the shower, but she should be done soon. You can just wait here if you want… have you eaten anything yet?”

“Uh, I had a granola bar on the train, but that’s it.”

“We have some leftover pasta here, if you want—”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

Your dad nodded, sitting down on his recliner. “So, have you started your college list, yet? Y/N said you wanted to stay here in New York.”

Jeno nodded, pushing some hair out of his face. “Well, yeah. It would make things a lot easier, I think. I might want to apply to NYU, but I think I’ll just go to community college, or something.”

Your dad shook his head. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Jeno. I think you could get into Columbia if you set out to. Plus, Chanyeol Park doesn’t give out internships to anybody. That’s your secret weapon.”

Jeno smiled. “Well, you’ve got a point.” 

Your dad gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Come on, trying won’t hurt!” Your dad made a face, and then rubbed his knuckles. “Have you been working out? Those muscles weren’t there the last time I did that.”

Jeno laughed, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, a little bit? The house needed some fixing up over the summer, and I wanted to help Aunt Sunny, so…”

“Jeno?” 

He turned immediately, eyes landing on you at the base of the staircase. You’d changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair was slightly damp. “What are you doing here?” You asked, with a curious smile.

His shoulders slumped, and he grinned sheepishly. “Terrible Tuesday strikes again. I forgot my keys.”

You grimaced. “Brutal, dude. You wanna come up?” Your eyes moved to your dad. “Or am I interrupting guy time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jeno answered, playing along. He took a cocky tone as he rested his hands on the back of his neck. “Your dad was just telling me about how much the NYPD needs me.” 

You stifled a laugh. You dad seemed to be holding back a laugh too. "Hey, you're joking, but if you keep working out like that, and if by some impossible chance, the college thing doesn't work out… We might just be able to catch Spiderman if we finally got some brain cells on the force."

"Ugh, dad," You groaned, unaware of Jeno's gut twisting, "Not again."

"Yeah, Mr. Kim," Jeno said, scratching the back of his head, "He's not that bad."

Your dad shook his head. "Look, I don't hate the guy. In all honesty, crime rates have dropped since he started doing his thing. But he thinks he's above the law, and his methods can be a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He’s been undermining us for years and his tech is state of the art. Makes me wonder about what we should do to modernize the force."

Jeno looked downward, wondering what would happen if your dad knew the truth.

"Well, I guess we may just never find out. Jeno'd make a horrible cop. He couldn't hurt a fly if you paid him a million dollars."

But you came to the rescue as you grabbed his backpack, and soon enough he was up the stairs with you, heading into your bedroom, laughing to yourselves when you heard your dad jokingly call out, "Fifteen inch distance, you two! Door stays open!"

He sat on your desk chair while you lay on your bed, limbs splaying out. 

"So you left your keys."

Jeno groaned. "Don't remind me. I was in such a rush to leave, that I… I forgot. I'm so stupid."

You rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. "You're not stupid, Jen. You made an honest mistake because you were in a hurry." 

Standing up, you walked over to him and leaned against the desk. "Seriously, Jeno. What's gotten into you, lately? You freak out about every little thing. It's starting to worry me." 

Jeno shook his head. "I don't know," He admitted. "I think I'm just scared about how after this year, everything changes. Renjun’s headed upstate. Jaemin’s going to Boston. You want to go to LA. I think Hyuck and I are the only ones who want to stay here. I just… I don't want things to change." 

Your expression turned sad as he continued. "Everyone is expecting great things from me. You're smart, Jeno. You can get into an Ivy. Or, you have a Park internship, you'll be fine. What if I don't want things to be fine? What if I want them to just stay the same?"

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Jeno was relatively level headed for someone your age, but even he had moments of doubt and panic. It made moments like these difficult.  You sighed before grabbing him by the hand. Wordlessly, you tugged him over to the bed, sitting him down and leaning your head on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness in your hair seeping slowly into his shirt.

"I guess I understand what you mean," You mumbled, trying to reason with him, "But come on. You wouldn't really want everything to stay the same. You can't tell me you want to keep getting AP calc homework. And I definitely doubt that you'd want to have your ass kicked by San for the rest of your life."

Jeno looked at the floor. "You're right. But you know that's not what I mean—"

"I know," You huffed, "I'm just saying. Change… it's inevitable. The longer you fight it, the harder it is."

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

"It does," You agreed, taking his hand in yours. "But at least we have each other's backs, y'know?"

Something of a smile appeared on his face. You were so close to him, leaning on him, stroking his knuckles with your thumb. He hoped you couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest. 

"We really do, huh?" His voice turned quiet, with a bit of a sleepy lull to it. He allowed his head to rest on yours. "You're so comfortable. Can I like, use you as a pillow for the rest of my life?"

You giggled. "I'll consider it on two conditions."

"Oh, you'll consider. How generous of you."

"Yes, I'll consider. Now, do you wanna hear my terms or not?" 

Jeno raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," He said, before putting on his best Marlon Brando voice, "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

Snorting, you lifted your head off of his. "Okay. One, you finish your calculus homework here before Sunny gets home."

He pursed his lips. "Okay, I could probably do that. What's the other one?"

"Let me drive you to school for the rest of the year." 

Jeno stared at you, and you nodded, eyes wide. "Trust me, Jen. You wouldn't need to wake up so early! And plus, you can't text the guy manning the subway asking him to give you five minutes because you need to find your keys."

Jeno gnawed on the inside of his cheek. You did have a point, and to be honest, he could probably refrain from putting his feet up on your dashboard.

"Deal." 

You grinned. "Awesome," You answered, before nodding towards his backpack. "Now get to work, Einstein."

The rest of the week wasn't that bad. Yes, you were absolutely batshit insane about your truck in the morning, but he soon realized he didn't really mind. Not when it allowed you both to spend some twenty extra minutes together in the mornings, and they were spent joking around and listening to your extremely varied playlist. 

On the other hand, he was saddled with more and more homework, greater and greater expectations. The looming threat of Friday's mission rolled around, and it made Jeno feel like time was passing much too slowly but also way too quickly. There was so much on his mind. He had chemistry with you on Thursdays in the afternoon, which also meant that San was there. Which also meant that sometimes, his heightened senses would pick up on San dropping a tacky pick up line which made Jeno want to punch him in the jaw.

Finally, finally, Friday afternoon rolled around. As he bid you goodbye and promised to see you later, he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong. He went out on patrol, ready for Doyoung to set up the call and tell him where he needed to go. It didn’t help that there wasn’t a lot for him to do that day. Crime had seemed to slow down altogether. 

When the time finally came, and the sun was beginning to set, Doyoung rang in at about 7, telling him the location. An old warehouse near LaGuardia airport, hidden from prying eyes. Jeno made his way to the place, avoiding security cameras Doyoung warned him about, and found a place to hide. There was a hole in the warehouse roof, which allowed him to peer right into the building without being seen. It was about thirty feet from the ground.

“Why is it always old, abandoned warehouses?” Jeno grumbled. He heard Doyoung laugh quietly. 

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed. 

And so they waited. Jeno wondered vaguely if you were still working. He wasn’t sure. They made time talking quietly, until a black SUV rolled into the warehouse. “Woah, Doyoung,” He murmured, “Hold up.”

Jeno leaned forward, but quickly realized he probably wouldn’t be able to hear what was being said. “D.R.E.A.M, activate Heightened Intelligence Protocol.”

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

The protocol allowed Jeno to use the lenses over his eyes to zoom in on specific targets, as well as use a microphone embedded in the suit to pick up audio from far away and feed it directly into his ears.

He watched as three figures got out of the car, a fourth remaining in the driver’s seat. The trio stood in front of the car, and Jeno recognized the man in the middle as the man Junmyeon had been talking about.

“Alright, there’s Henry Duke,” He said, “The one in the middle.”

 “Got it,” Doyoung replied, sounding satisfied. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other party.”

“Did Junmyeon’s sources say anything about who it would be?”

“No. They weren’t able to find that out. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jeno’s eyes never left the man. “Do you think it’s something international?”

Doyoung sighed. “I’m not sure. If it is international, then you need to be even more careful.”

“Got it. I think—Wait, here they come.” 

A second vehicle, this one another black SUV, rolled up not too far away from the first car. The lights turned off and the engine sputtered to a stop, and four men stepped out of the vehicle.

Jeno’s stomach dropped, and of its own accord, his mouth let loose a quiet, “What the fuck,” as he registered the person leading them. 

“What?” Doyoung asked, before realizing what—who—he was looking at. “...Is that my dad?”

“I think it is,” Jeno whispered, fingertips suddenly numb. Who was he kidding? They both knew who it was. 

“So,” One of the men next to your dad said, “You show us yours, we’ll show you ours?”

Henry Duke clapped his hands together with an impish grin. “I suppose. Reagan, get the case.”

One of the two men standing beside him started off toward the trunk of the car. “It caught me off guard when I heard that the force wanted to purchase these. Almost made me wonder if this was your attempt at a sting operation.”

“What made you change your mind?” Your dad asked. Jeno swallowed at how cold he sounded. This wasn’t your dad, and it didn’t seem like Officer Kim either. This was someone Jeno had never met before. 

“Honestly, Kim?” Duke raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was you. Your cooperativeness and willing to feed us information, as well as your… insurance agreement. And besides, you made a very interesting point when you said that the Avengers Initiative and Park’s alum Spiderman is ruining the way the law operates around here. That type of bitterness… hard to fake.”

Your dad huffed. “We’re fucking tired of it.”

The man leaning against the car your dad had stepped out of scoffed. “If this helps us catch the little asshole, then so be it.”

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped. 

“—Alright, then.” The man holding the briefcase—Reagan—clicked it open, as if it were a prize reveal on The Price is Right. Five guns, all modified to hold glowing Chitauri stones were placed carefully together side by side.

“You know the basics. No radiation. Keep it away from security scanners and x-rays. They will blow up. And second of all, these are at half the price, along with the promise from the chief of police that my business won’t be touched, and will only be distributed to officers in on the operation and have agreed to turn off their body cameras when they decide to use these weapons. Should this not be a sting operation, we’ll be back here to negotiate.”

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

“Yes, sir,” Your dad answered, nodding. “We have the money here.”

“Hand it over, then.”

That was when Jeno made his mistake. He leaned forward too much, and proceeded to fall right through the hole, bringing down some scraps of the roof with him. As he tumbled through the air, the zoom on his lenses caused him to grow dizzy as he had no idea what he was looking at. He caught himself before he could fall, clumsily commanding D.R.E.A.M to go back to turn off the current protocol. His vision returned to normal, and he swung up onto a rafter holding the warehouse up.

“So, we have company.” Duke didn’t sound as amused as he had before. His face turned into a sneer. “Get him.”

In less than a second, before Jeno could say anything, five guns were pointed directly at him. He managed to swing away before any bullets could hit him. 

“Jeno, get out of there now,” Doyoung ordered. 

“What about the guns?” Jeno asked, swinging to another rafter. “They know I’m here, I might as well get them before I go—”

“No! Jeno, listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve done more than enough, and you need to let it g—”

Your dad aimed, and a bullet fired right at Jeno’s chest. For a second, he forgot that the chest area of the suit was lined with bulletproof material. While it didn’t shoot into his chest, it ricocheted right off him, and since he was in motion, it somehow caused the bullet to bounce back in the direction in which it came. 

The wind was knocked out of Jeno, but it was nothing compared to watching the bullet land in the middle of your father’s chest. On the other line, he heard Doyoung yell, followed by the sound of something falling. And then, as he made his way back towards the hole he’d fallen out of, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the body as it crumpled to the ground. 

The others around him scrambled to get back into their respective cars. Jeno was back on the roof now, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” He gasped, “Do—Doyoung, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”

“Jeno, you need to get out of there, now,” Doyoung said, voice raspy. “GO!” 

So he did, and Doyoung cut off the call once he was out of the vicinity. Jeno didn’t blame him. He swung across buildings, feeling numb as he looked for the apartment complex roof where he’d decided to hide his backpack.

When he finally did, he changed in a hurry, before slumping against the wall and forcing himself to take deep breaths. 

Doyoung’s dad—your dad—was dead. And it was all his fault. 

He cried on the way down the staircase. He cried on his way to the subway. The entire time, he ignored people’s stares. Suddenly everything was too loud, and if he met someone in the eyes he’d just about break down in the middle of the station. 

As he got onto the train, Jeno thought about all of the things your dad had done for you, and for Jeno. All the times he'd taken you both to Coney Island in the summer when you were younger. The year Pokemon Go came out he took the both of you driving around in his car so you and Jeno could catch as many Pokemon as you could. 

He’d formally adopted you when you were thirteen. You were his daughter in nearly every sense of the word, regardless of blood. And now he was dead, because of a stupid mistake that Jeno had made.

What would you say if you knew? He didn’t want to know. Checking the time on his phone, he saw he’d gotten a message from you just three minutes ago.

[8:36 PM]

y/n: lemme know when ur outside!! :)

“Fuck,” He murmured, wiping his eyes. He knew he needed to stop crying before he got to your house, and he had about ten minutes before he got to his stop, and then another five minute walk to the neighborhood. He focused on taking deep breaths and taking long swigs from his water bottle in the meantime, trying to tune out the sound of other people talking and the sound of the train on the rails.

The walk was the longest five minute walk he’d ever taken. The flashing lights of convenience stores did nothing to calm him down. As the stores in his peripheral vision began transitioning into suburban homes, he felt his heart speed up again. The constant movement as he walked meant he missed his phone vibrating in his backpack as you rang his number.

After what seemed like an eternity, two familiar houses came into his line of vision, and his shoulders slumped as he spotted you on your porch, looking small and teary, curled up into a little ball. In one hand, you were clutching your phone.

His stomach twisted as he put on a confused tone, even though he knew damn well that you knew. “...Y/N?”

You stood up, running to him and burying yourself into his chest, crumpling into his arms. You would have fell over if Jeno hadn’t held both of you up. 

“Jeno,” You sobbed, “You’re n-not go-onna believe it.”

He brought a hand up to caress your hair, holding back tears of his own as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs​ @crescentjen​

#kwritersworldnet #nct angst #nct x reader #jeno x reader #jeno angst #jeno fluff #nct au #jeno au #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #kpop imagines #nct dream x reader #lee jeno x reader #my writing

[dork-empress]

Singing in the Dead of Night

Damian Wayne meets a new masked persona in Gotham, and everyone has to adjust to her.

AKA I have a lot of headcanons about Lucy Quinzel and I'm making it other people's problem.

I want it up front that I haven't read these comics, just a lot of wiki pages and tiktoks. If there's a fun thing in the comics you can tell me, but this is my own version of this universe and these characters.

This is going to be the main story, but I may do some offshoots. If you want to subscribe, chapters are also posted on my Ao3 (link in my description).

“You need to take things less seriously.”

Damian looked up, looked down, and then looked back just to be sure it was really his father who asked. It was hard to tell sometimes if your superhero father had been replaced or possessed or something. “Are you serious? YOU’RE telling me that?”

“That should enforce to you how dire the situation is.” Bruce said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re still a kid,”

“I’m 15,” Damian said, then thought about his varied adventures, “Technically…”

“My point exactly,” Bruce said, turning a page on his crime reports, “You should enjoy being a kid, for a while.”

“Oh, did you enjoy being 15?” Damian said, and maybe that was a low blow, but if Bruce wasn’t ready for him to call him out he...shouldn’t have made him upset. Hmm.

Bruce looked up and stared into his soul, and Damian worried he might have stepped in it a bit. He backed up a step in case. Bruce took a deep breath, looking at him. “My childhood was stolen from me, but I at least had one. As did all the other Robins. You’re not responsible for what happened to you,but I think you could use some time. I couldn’t offer you a childhood then, and I can hardly do that now, I know, but I can do what I can.”

“And what are you doing?” Damian asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re suspended from Robin duties.”

“WHAT?!” Damian exploded, getting in his face. “What are you talking about?!”

Bruce didn’t flinch, “Until the Wayne Manor Christmas Party,” Bruce said, “I’ve called Tim and he’s willing to cover for you until then.”

“He doesn’t NEED to cover me,” Damian snarled, “I’m right here! I’m not injured, or dead, or ANYTHING I just--WHY?”

“I told you,” Bruce said, “You need to find other...hobbies, or form connections or SOMEthing. Anything other than the lifestyle. You have two months, you’ll live.”

Damian curled his fists, shaking, but had no more arguments. “You’re the WORST!” He said, and went off to his rooms.

The room was left in stony silence for a moment. Alfred came in, changing out Bruce’s cup of tea. “You don’t actually expect that to work, do you?”

“Not really, no,” Bruce said, “But he’ll be out of my hair for a little bit.”

Alfred was very dignified and so did not snort. But it was close.

Damian went out at night, saying he was off with a friend. Best to keep things vague, but if Bruce pressed, he’d say he was with Jon, and could probably bully Jon into vouching for him.

He dressed all in black, jumping from the rooftops, looking for trouble. There was usually plenty of it in Gotham. He just had to avoid the Bat Signal hanging in the sky and he’d be fine.

He heard a crash and looked down. Jewelry store robbery. Perfect.

He jumped down to ground level and approached the broken in window, taking out his sword. “Anyone in here, it’s better to surrender now,”

Of course, because it was Gotham, he wasn’t met by a normal jewel thief. No, instead, what approached him was a small walking orange balloon animal dog.

Because of course it was.

With an act first, think later attitude, he stabbed at it. He regretted it instantly as it let out some sort of opaque gas, the effects of which he didn’t want to find out. He pulled his shirt up over his mouth in hopes of preventing himself breathing too much in.

“Oh wow,” a voice said behind him, “Are you Robin?”

Damian whipped around and scowled. The gas was obscuring whoever was there, but the silhouette seemed like something of a ballerina. Why couldn’t one criminal just be normal?

He jumped back, ready to attack, but she didn’t fight him. “I’m not Robin,” he said, “I’m…” he didn’t think of another name. Ugh, this was more complicated than it needed to be.

“Huh,” she said, heading over to the display case, “This city sure has a lot of teenage ninja fighters, doesn’t it? Is ninja appropriative? Hmm, will have to think on that.”

She picked up a diamond ring from the display case and headed for the door. “Put that down!” Damian yelled at her, lifting his sword up.

“What, are you going to kill me for one ring?” She said, holding it, “Kinda overkill, don’t you think, Blackbird?”

Damian put his sword up to her, blocking the exit. “I’m not going to kill you, I’m just going to stop you,” he said, determined, but then her words sank in. “Blackbird?”

“Well, I’ve got to call you something, isn’t that how these superhero fights all go?” She stepped forward out of the fog, a girl about his age with a white painted face, lips painted into a heart, and bright orange and pink eyeshadow. “I’m Commedia, the hero of funny, the dancing clown, the laughing knight, etc etc.” she said, “im still working on my name too.”

She did a fancy twirl, getting out of range of Damian’s sword, which he countered to block her from the entrance again. “Oh, you like to dance?” she said.

“Clown, huh?” he said, staring her down, “You work for the joker?”

She laughed, high pitched and sweet, “Very much no,” she said, twirling again through the store, “Though I understand the confusion. No, Joker is...well, a joke. He’s not even registered in the clown registry.”

“There’s a clown registry?” He swung his sword.

This time, it came to a stop, with a matching jingle. He frowned, and saw it was a tambourine that the woman had lifted and stopped the sword like a shield.

He stared at the girl, Commedia, in stunned silence. She smiled brightly at him. “Well, this has been fun. But I really ought to head out. Raincheck on that dance, Blackbird.”

With a spin and a jump, she made it past him and rushed out the door, throwing a pink flower behind. A gas filled up the room in her wake, obscuring the view. Damian unfortunately got a whiff before he could block his nose, but he knew a simple fog cloud scent when he smelled it.

Damian went back into the shadows before the police inevitably arrived. It did seem below his paygrade, fighting someone who only stole a single diamond ring. But it was even stranger for that fact. A strangely dressed clown woman engaging in very strange and specific crimes in Gotham screamed “beginning of a dangerous plot.”

He wanted to go in swinging as usual, then remembered that if his father heard anything about a young person with a sword threatening police, he might catch onto the fact Damian went out that night. So, he went with the subtle approach. Breaking into the jewelry store’s records.

He was glad he did. It turned out that ring in particular had a history. It had been bought, returned, bought again, and returned once more, all by the same man, a Matthew Crenshaw. A quick records search brought up that he was a simple caller at a center. Nothing special about him. But, he was tied to the ring, and that tied him to the girl, so that was his first stop.

He tracked down the apartment to find Matthew Crenshaw in the middle of a very strange day. Damien watched through the window as Matthew lay on the floor of his meager living room, looking up at Commedia herself. She held the ring out to him, offering. “Well come on, man! Take it!”

“I don’t…” he mumbled, “Who...who are you?!”

“Just call me your fairy godmother,” she said. “Come on, you said you wanted it! So take it!”

“That’s…” Matthew said, “That’s the ring that Jenny liked...that she…”

“That you said would make the perfect proposal!” She said, dancing around, “So? Here it is! Now you can propose for real!” she said, giving it to him.

He juggled it, nearly falling over. Commedia came rushing over, jumping through the window and onto the fire escape. “Alright, hands up,” Damian urged her.

She turned, smiling. “Why, Blackbird? We going on roller coaster?” She put her hands high in the air and swung around the fire escape ladder, “Weeeeee!”

Damian followed her, pointing his sword tip at her chest. “Stop,” he said, “What are you planning?”

“Well, I’m planning to go sneak up to that window up there so I can look in and see what Matty and Jenny have going on,” She said, “Wanna join--OH!”

Damian pressed his sword up to her neck. “Cut the games,” He said, “You’re up to something, I know it. So tell me.”

Commedia sighed, giving in. “Matthew doesn’t want to get married.”

“I...what?” Damian said, confused.

“Matthew Crenshaw, the guy up there,” Commedia said, “He’s a nice guy, and he cares for his girlfriend Jenny, sure. But she’s been pressuring him about getting married, even though he doesn’t really like the idea of getting married. He’s talked himself into saying that he needs the perfect ring, but when he bought it, he decided he couldn’t afford it, and gave it back. So, I got it for him.”

Damian’s scowl only deepened as she kept talking. “Who’s he to you?”

She tilted her head, confused. “He cold called me to try and offer me a deal on car insurance.”

Damian put down the sword. He just. She said it so sincerely. “Who ARE you?” He demanded, now out of confusion more than anger.

She smiled brightly once more. “Why, I’m Commedia! The hero clown, the dancing--”

“Yeah, you said all that before, but like,” He sighed, “Why?”

Commedia’s smile fell down to something simple and kind. She offered a hand to him.

Hesitant, curious, and just...confused, he took it.

She led him to the other window, where they saw Jenny walking through the door. She gasped and ran to Matthew. “Oh, Matt! Matt, yes! Yes, I do, I do, I never thought this day would come! Oh gosh, I gotta call my mom, I’ve got a few dresses all picked out. You’ll see, it’ll be a huge party with everyone we know and-”

“Jenny,” he said, “Jenny wait, I...you know I don’t...I’m not comfortable with crowds and...and I don’t--

“But it’s MY DAY!” Jenny wailed, “You wouldn’t take MY day from me, would you?”

“C’mon,” Commedia muttered.

“Please, Jen,” Matt continued, “Look it’s just...if, if we did get married, shouldn’t--wouldn’t it be my day too?”

“Oh come ON, Matt,” Jenny said, walking to the counter, “We both know I’m the one who knows what’s best for you. It’ll be good! You’ll finally get to shine, and if you don’t like it, you’ll have ME there to take the rest of the spotlight!”

Matt’s hands balled into fists, and his face set, “No.”

“What?” Jenny said, incredulous.

“I’ve had it! I’m tired of-of you telling me what I like and what I don’t!” his lip trembled as he stood up. “I knew I was hesitant, but I didn’t know why! Now I see it’s becasue I didn’t want you in the rest of my life!”

“Hey now,” Jenny said, “Matt, calm down--”

“Get out of my house!” Matt went to the open window Commedia left behind and tossed out the ring.

“Whoopsies,” Commedia said and dropped away. Damian, confused, dropped down after her.

She picked the ring up from the ground and held it out to Damian. “I trust you can get this back to the jewelry store.”

“So, all of that…” he said, “was to help a guy get out of a bad relationship? That you barely knew?”

“He sounded sad on the phone,” Commedia said, “Made me curious.”

Damian scoffed, staring at her. “Who ARE you?”

She chuckled. “My guess is you’ll find out sooner or later,” she said, “So I’ll pick later, for now. But I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, Blackbird.”

She took out another flower. This one shot off into the distance like a grappling hook, and pulled her twirling into the night.

Damian could have followed her, maybe. But, holding the ring in his hands, he didn’t see much need to.

Across town, Batman was called to a bank robbery in the middle of the night. Inside, however, he didn’t find the vault broken in, and nothing stolen, other than a number of complimentary lollipops. “You know there are easier ways to get my attention.”

“Aw, Come on Bats!” Harley said, swinging from the ceiling with one of the lollipops in her mouth, “Ain’t this a classic? Brings me back to the old days.”

“Oh, you’ve stopped doing crime then?” He said, leaning back and looking up at her, “News to me.”

Harley flipped down in front of him. “Batsy, you know I’m tryin’! I do good, is it a crime to have a little fun while I do it?”

“If you hurt people, yes.” Batman said.

Harley deflated. “I haven’t done that in a while now. I’m goin through some life changes.”

Batman hummed, staring down at her. “I’m guessing this is about the small clown that has been reported around town recently doing strange acts of minor crimes to help people?”

Harley brightened again, balancing on the teller counter. “She’s my new apprentice! A bit of a goody-two-shoes, but I’m doing my best to train her.” She did a handstand, “I came to ask for some advice at raising child soldiers, considering you have so much experience.”

Batman always scowled, but it seemed his scowl deepened on that. “I help some people come to terms with terrible things that have happened to them, and teach them to be a force of good in the world instead of falling to the world’s darkness.” He thought back on his children, “It doesn’t always work.”

Harley laughed, “No kidding,” she said. She sighed, thinking. “To be honest, Commedia is already pretty good. I can’t claim credit for that.” She rocked back and forth, feeling uneasy.

Batman approached, slow so as not to scare her. “Well, we both know she didn’t get it from her father.”

Her face was already white, but she blanched further. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, “She’s my niece, she ran from home so I’m taking care of her and-”

“Harley,” Batman stopped her rambling, “I’m a detective, remember?”

She frowned, shaking at him. “He doesn’t know,” she said, “No one knows, she...she’s never met him and I don’t want her to I--”

Batman held up his hands, stopping her again. “I know,” he said, “I understand, really. And I’ll help.”

She blinked up at him, smiling. “Really?”

Batman nodded. “I’ll help you protect her. As for advice....if you ever figure out a perfect way to raise masked vigilantes, let me know. I mostly just do the best I can, and make sure they can do a proper spin-kick if they need to.”

Harley snorted. “I’ll make a note of that.” She grabbed the box of free lollies on the counter, “I am going to be robbing these though, and you can’t stop me.”

She headed for the back entrance and away. “Harley,” Batman called her again, and she froze, “The year you were gone, when you disappeared and suddenly your sister had a child she wasn’t pregnant with. I want you to know, I noticed.”

Harley smiled, turning, “Thanks Bats-” When she turned, he was gone. “And people call me a drama queen.”

#lucy quinzel #batman #damian wayne #harley quinn #batfamily #joker

[sons-of-the-morning-star]

DISCLAIMER FOR ANY SENSITIVE READERS: This series is going to deal with heavy topics like abandonment, death, guilt, grief, and a lot of other stuff; this first chapter in particular is probably going to be pretty heavy for the same reason.

I will be writing this is present tense and will be constantly be saying, "if this was a show, this would happen or this is what we see," both because I originally thought of it as a show and because this is a screenplay, but more narratively cohesive.

Got that? GREAT!!!

Let's dive in!!!!!!!!!

Chapter/Episode 1: Union- Part 1

We start off in darkness with the sound of crackling fire in the background. One by one, a red light shines and silhouettes five figures, all standing in a circle as they face each other. If this was a show, the camera would be behind one of these figures as he and the other figures eye each other.

He starts a fire in his hand and two figures bristle while the other two back away-

An alarm clock blares out and we cut to a dark bedroom in a hotel suite, like the sound of the alarm woke US up, along with the character sleeping, who groans as his alarm keeps blaring.

After MAYBE the fifth chime, he sighs and slaps the alarm clock off, his arm slipping down his nightstand and droppong to the side of his bed.

His hand curls into a fist as the door is knocked on.

"Mr. Wagner? Are you awake yet?"

Yes! We start with our boy Lucius Wagner!

Lucius loudly humms, "Mm-hm" and sits up.

"You have an interview at nine', a meeting at a quarter to noon, and a conference at five'. Looks like another busy day."

He hears the person- man, woman, it doesn't matter- walk away and stands up from his bed to pull the curtain to his room back only to wince when the light hits his face.

It's too early for the sun to be so bright.

Despite being tired and not wanting to write to people because he can't talk, Lucius gets ready for his day.

Back to what we'd see if this was a show: the camera would be on Lucius as he stares out at the city before he takes a deep breath and turns away. Jump cut to the camera behind and away from Lucius as he turns and walks to the bathroom, turning on the TV before he starts getting ready, more specifically the news.

The camera stays on the TV as we learn Lucius, despite his young age of 22, is running for senator just like his human father did, but he is more successful because not only has crime rate already decreased, but any political opponents he goes against stepped down within minutes of the debate or conference he's in. With no evidence of bribery or any other scandal involved, as criminals are being found dead, one being brought up in todays broadcadt, Lucius is on his way to becoming Sentator of not only Massachusetts, but of the United States as a whole.

We do a transition from Lucius's room to the scene where the camera zooms in on the TV screen as it shows a body under a blanket and we hear the click of a camera and the lens shutters close and open.

On the streets, we now follow Damien Thorn as he gets as close as he can to the scene and the body. He has been investigating these 'accidents' since the arrival of everyone's favorite new politician, who has never spoken a word on camera, never said anything to or against his opponents, and never spoke during interviews. And somehow he's running for senator. Since it seems fishy to him, and because he keeps getting a sick feeling in his stomach when he sees Lucius on the news, he decided to start digging by tracing the criminals who have died and anyone who stepped down from conferences.

The body he is investigating today is a fisher from the town Lucius grew up in, who was charged for numerous cases of assault and fraud.

He is stopped by a police officer when he tries to cross the police tape.

"Sorry, that's close enough."

"It's for the paper. People want to know what's going on."

"They don't need to see this."

Damien scowls as his eyes go black, uttering a "sorry" as he stares the officer down.

The officer's face goes expressionless and just as he lifts the tape, the announcer gets a breaking report.

"This just in! An earthquake near the United Kingdoms has caused the south western quarter of England and Wales to be flooded and taken out to sea!"

Cut back to Lucius in his room as he chokes and gags on his toothbrush; if you've ever hit the back of your tongue while brushing your teeth, you'll get why he gags. He walks out, mouth kind of full of toothpaste and his toothbrush in his teeth, and sees an over head view of the map, showing just how much of England has been wiped out.

For context, here is what was taken out, circled in red⬇️⬇️

Lucius's eyes widen as he takes out his toothbrush.

I'm not good with fractions, but a third or fifth of England is now gone. And-

"While it is right now unknown how many are injured or missing, authorities have reported countless victims were lost in the catastrophe."

Lucius turns off the TV and finishes getting ready, a time jump/transition of Lucius going to the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste and then transitioning to him looking up from washing his face, like he leans down to spit out the toothpaste wearing no shirt and with some shower head, but when he leans back up, he's in a black dress shirt, about to tie his tie, his hair is tidy, and he is rubbing his face dry with a towel.

Part of England gone. Just like that.

It's a pretty shocking thing to imagine, with possibly hundreds or thousands of people being wiped out in the blink of an eye and the cause somehow being an earthquake.

Seems sort of fishy, if you ask me.

Lucius tries shrugging it off as he leaves his room, dressed to impress, and heads out for breakfast and his interview.

Cut to a pair of men walking on the sidewalk, the white-blonde haired one panicked and finicky while his red haired partner is swaggering beside him with a briefcase. The more brightly dressed man keeps "oh"-ing and whimpering , which is driving his more darkly attired kind of insane.

An angel and a demon.

If you've seen Good Omens, you KNOW who there two are

"Angel, stop muttering. You sound like you're summoning Satan himself."

"What if we can't find him? And what if he says 'no?'"

"We'll make him say 'yes.'"

Aziraphale looks down at the briefcase and then nods.

"And just how are we going to find him?"

"We found the antichrist once. We can find him again."

Aziraphale stops and gives him a withering look.

"Another one. We can find another one."

SPEAKING OF THE DEVIL'S SON!!!

Just as the two continue, they bump into a certain photographer that makes Aziraphale shudder like he's just gotten into an ice bath and Crowley smell either blood or smoke.

This wasn't what Crowley had in mind, but it's a start.

"Oi! 'Scuse me!"

Damien turns as he keeps walking. "Sorry, I have to hurry to..."

Aziraphale now starts trembling and Damien gets a sick feeling in his stomach, not like with seeing Lucius, like he has an air bubble in his stomach or really bad period cramps.

Crowley narrows his eyes behind his sunglasses and steps closer.

"Where you off to so quickly?"

Damien fights a gag as he continues to back away. "I-Interview. Wagner's see-seeing someone. Im-Important for the news."

Crowley steps closer and pulls Damien close by his color, making Damien pale and fall to his knees.

"Lucius Wagner?"

Damien nods.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchange glances before looking back at Damien, Aziraphale taking the briefcase away so Damien can recompose himself.

Cut to Lucius in the middle of his interview, which is being recorded on the news. So far he has been asked the basic political questions and he gave the correct answers to get people to love him. Then comes in ANOTHER breaking news report.

Part of California, Arizona, and New Mexico has also been flooded, but there aren't as many people missing as England.

"Mr. Wagner? How do you see yourself helping the families that are now broken by this tragedy?"

Before Lucius can answer, two people catch his eye.

Like when Damien saw him, Lucius gets a sick feeling in his stomach until he sees two young men, one scowling with wavy blond hair and the other with brown hair and the giddiest smile on a boy.

Suddenly, a member of the crowd pulls a gun out and shoots at Lucius, who throws himself and the woman he's interviewing with to the ground.

The blond smirks and the brunette grows angry.

The shooter gets a look of pure despair on his face as he drops to his knees letting the police drag him away.

Lucius is escorted away instead gets a call.

His schedule has changed completely. He must now go a military base, where a private jet is waiting for him to take him home; his address is classified to the public, so no one knows where he lives.

Cut to Lucius walking through a crowd as he tries to get to his jet, trying his best to wave at the paparazzi and camera people.

"Mr. Wagner, if you'll let me ask you-"

The man who asked grabs Lucius's arm and the two meet eyes. You know that part of the forst Lucius game where time freezes and you see your target with the screen tinted red? Lucius and Damien met eyes and time freezes entirely as they stare at each other and feel the growing urge to kill each other.

They don't hear anyone or anything. They only see each other.

Both are wide eyed as they realize who or what the other is and glare at each other.

Luckily, a body guard punches Damien away and helps Lucius to the jet, where he takes his seat and lets out a breath as he loosens his tie and tips his head back.

"So sorry for all that, Mr. Wagner, sir."

Lucius looks over to see someone like an air flight attendant and writes them a message.

'Don't worry about it. I've had worse happen.'

"Well, at least you're headong home, after all this."

Lucius nods and leans back once more, getting comfortable for his flight to home sweet home.

It's a relatively short flight, mostly because we'd see a timelapse of the sky and Lucius napping in his seat before we cut to him in his house.

Being a senator in the running, Lucius is on a very nice house, one he keeps clean and well furnished. Think Lucifer's penthouse in the shiw Licifer, but it's an actual house and doesn't have a wall of alcohol, just a small cabinet in his parlor and shelf in his fridge.

He turns on a light and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees Crowley sitting in his living room.

"Hello, Me. Wagner. Nice flight?"

Lucius recomposes himself and raises an eyebrow as he holds a hand out. 'How did you get in here?'

"Just a bit of miracle work from a demon. Takes one to know one, right?"

Lucius takes a seat as he writes a message, showing it to Crowley with narrow eyes.

'I don't exactly know who you are, but you don't have the right to make an accusation like that.'

"You're one of the sons of Satan, I'm pretty sure I do."

'My father was Charles Wagner.'

"Ah, yes, the loon that killed your mother and his own staff while you were sent to the nut house."

'He tried to kill me.'

"Eye for an eye, you prat."

Lucius's eye twitches as he snaps his pen in half, eyes going red.

Crowley only smirks and removes his sunglasses, revealing his snake eyes, befire putting them back on; the lights Lucius has are bright.

Lucius settles and grabs another pen from the coffee table and writes a new message.

'Antony J. Crowley? It's about time London's famed has paid the US a visit.'

"You would think." Crowley leans forward until his elbiws are on his knees. "Look, you're not going to like this, but there's something we need your help with."

Lucius gets up and shakes his head before leaving a messge on the table, and to go the the kitchen to get a drink; like hell he's dealing with CROWLEY sober.

'I don't know if you've noticed, but I have a country I'll be running soon. I don't exactly have time to help you or your pet angel.'

Crowley snarls and follows Lucius to see the young man about to take a sip of a drink.

"Don't you think it's weird that parts of England and America are just gone? That the ocean just took them away and an earthquake was the cause?"

Lucius pauses and lowers his drink slightly, eyes on Crowley as he nods and gestures for the snake eyed demon to continue.

'I'm listening.'

And that will be it for part 1 of Chapter/Episode 1!!!! Man, was this fun to write!!!! Like I said, this is just part 1 and I will be continuing with Chapter/Episode 1 Part 2, I promise!

Sorry for all the yelling, I'm really excited!!

Thank you all so much for reading this and I hope you all have a happy and safe holiday season!!!

#sons of the morning star #lucius wagner #damien thorn #michael langdon #adam young #jack kline #crossover

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Two Live Crew Job

leverage 2.07

Sophie: I love the symbolists.

- - - - -

🥰 I love when the ot3 are together in one frame 🥰

- - - - -

the dogs playing poker painting tho

- - - - -

Eliot: Any sudden movement's gonna cause displacement of the water. It'll set it off.

Parker: Is that C-4?

Sophie: Oh!

(Nate grabs Parker’s hand before she can touch the vase)

Sophie: Parker... please don't poke at the motion-sensitive bomb.

Nate: So, uh... secret admirer?

Sophie: Well, it's no secret they want me dead.

Hardison: What do you think, man?

Eliot: I'd have to reach into the vase to disarm it. It'd go off.

eliot’s lips quivered when he said that bc he’s so nervous for her im-

- - - - -

Parker: Do you have any instant pudding?

(everyone looks at Parker in surprise. Cut to Parker pouring pudding into the vase)

Parker: The powder hardens the liquid, tricks the bomb into thinking it's not moving.

Eliot: Should give you a little wiggle room. Very little

MASTERMIND PARKER

- - - - -

(mourners are gathered around a casket with a line of black cars parked nearby. An open casket shows Sophie lying inside. Eliot is standing at a podium)

Eliot: She had a way of taking care of people, you know? She was a sister... she was best friend, all rolled into one. I'm gonna miss you, Soph-- So-O-O-O-O much, Katherine.

(Eliot leaves the podium. Hardison stands to let Parker walk by and she approaches the podium. Nate stands at the back of the crowd, Eliot joins him)

Parker: Katherine and I have known each other forever. Almost two years. Yeah, I know that probably doesn't sound like a lot to you, but it is to me. I never really had many friends. Which is why losing her is so hard. (sighs) It's so creepy. I mean, she's really dead. I was just talking to her and now she's just laying there. She was just laying there.

(Nate coughs and Hardison gets up to go to Parker)

Parker: Can you hear me?

Hardison: Parker. I'm -- I'm sorry. I'm sorry, y'all. What – What she really means is just, um, Katherine was like family. And sometimes, friends are all the family that you have. So... you -- you good? Come on. Just – let -- just keep going. You got all hysterical and emotional

- - - - -

btw there is at least one door from behind the briefing monitors which means they have at least one extra room (most likely more) from the adjacent apartment eliot knocked the wall down from

they have guest rooms or something back there for if anyone needs a place to crash

- - - - -

Sophie: We used to work together. We did the Copenhagen job in '97, the Berlin Polytech job in '98, and, Nate, remember – Remember that great run in Moscow?

Nate: "That great run"? I chased you for three months.

Sophie: Well, uh, technically, y-you chased us. Sorry.

Hardison: Are you saying that you saw other teams before us?

Parker: Really just another Nate before Nate.

Eliot: Let me ask you a question -- what bugs you more, is it the fact that he was with Sophie first or that he outsmarted you?

Nate: Moving on

eliot puts his arms over the couch and behind parker and I’ll take it + them grinning at each other seeing nate’s discomfort

- - - - -

mikel is wearing flannel in this one and you can now take bisexual mikel from my cold, dead hands

- - - - -

Sophie: Wrong place, wrong time. Starke must have seen me, and now that I’m one of the good guys, decided to get rid of me, because...why? Because... Because I know his scams. Because... I know his favorite scam.

[Warehouse]

(Stark’s team is sitting on crates looking at monitors as he goes over the job)

Starke: Cafe and a moonlit terrace.

Sophie (voice over): The Mona Lisa variant.

[Briefing Area]

Parker: Oo! (claps) That was the first one I learned!

- - - - -

(Hardison is drinking orange soda and working on a computer as Sophie watches)

Sophie: I'm not dead. I'm right here, Parker. So, this is, um, it's what you do, right? You take footage of us on cons and you -- you -- you -- download it into that?

Hardison: Yeah, I analyze it, I monitor comms, I scan for a police frequencies, I -- You had no idea I do all this, did you? Well – d-does nobody respect the van? The van is important. What -- What is that?

Sophie: It's lemon-Zest tea. I got to tell you, it's -- It's a little bit -- It's a little bit whiffy in here.

Hardison: It smells like hard work. That's what it smells like. D-- Whiffy

sophie has no idea what hardison does and does not like the van smell. hardison is ready to go off

- - - - -

Sophie: That was some nice things you said at my funeral.

Hardison: Wait. We -- We trust Nate to make sure the plan works. We trust you to make sure we’re all okay.

- - - - -

Starke: Word is on the street that you run the nastiest crew this side of the Atlantic.

Nate: Well… what?

Starke: Come on. Everybody knows. You robbed a bank and you -- you framed a judge. You rigged a jury to steal a million-Dollar settlement. I hear that you even conned the Irish mob out of a couple of million dollars just this year. Now, that's style.

Nate: That's one way of looking at it.

Sophie: Listen, Nate, if you tell him the truth about us, we're blown

- - - - -

Hardison: I know this style. This is Chaos.

(computer screen flashes signal found. Hardison grabs his keyboard and heads for the back door of the van)

[Parking Lot]

(Hardison exits his van and a little ways down the parking lot, Chaos exits his van with a laptop in his hands. They square off like an old west gun fight)

Hardison: Chaos. I heard you were in jail. Guess I was wrong.

Chaos: Hardison. I heard you sucked. Guess I was right.

(they eye each other across the lot, their fingers twitching. Abruptly they raise their keyboard and laptop and begin typing while car alarms start going off)

this wild wild west showdown tho

- - - - -

Nate: Okay, now, we know Starke. This guy goes by the name Apollo. I've chased him a couple of times -- infiltration, physical security.

Parker: People in that line of high-risk work tend to be very unstable. We could use that. Write that down.

(the rest of the team exchange glances)

🥰 she’s sitting next to eliot with popcorn between them 🥰

- - - - -

Hardison: Now, this person here's ex-Mossad, sealed records. Mikel Dayan used to work both sides as a mercenary.

Eliot: Mikel Dayan. I know that name.

Hardison: You were scared to fight a girl.

Eliot: She'd mop the floor with you, Hardison.

Hardison: I don't care.

Eliot: Seriously. She actually killed a guy once with a mop. It's a funny story, actually. (starts gesturing time parker) She broke the mop and took --

Hardison: Eliot. Eliot. (turns back to monitors) Now, this here's Colin Mason, otherwise known by his hacker handle as "Chaos." As... whatever. Hacked the pentagon, the NSA. The CIA computer guys call him the Kobayashi Maru.

Eliot: What the hell is that?

Hardison: None of y'all got that? Seriously?

Parker: Star Trek.

Hardison: Thank you

parker’s reluctant fistbumb I love them + it’s officially canon that she’s seen at least some of the movies

- - - - -

Nate: I tried to say to her I’m sorry, you know, and I don't –

Security: Because, as men, we're taught to hide our emotions. You share or you pay the price.

Nate: Yeah

- - - - -

Mikel: You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?

(Eliot walks forward, taking off his jacket and hanging it on some pipe)

Eliot (in Hebrew): Not unless she hits me first.

(they approach each other and begin to fight, blocking each other until Mikel hits Eliot in the chest, knocking him back. He touches where her blow hit.)

Eliot (in Hebrew): That counts

let me just say I LOVE that they had a woman hitter

- - - - -

Starke: What is going on, guys?

Guard: Motion sensors went off, sir.

Starke: I already checked that out. Everything's secure. And who's this?

Guard: Uh... he just got lost. No problem.

Starke: Sir, you okay?

Nate: Yeah, I’m fine.

Starke: I'm Nathan Ford. I'm with the insurance company.

(Nate gives Starke an irritated look)

- - - - -

Parker: What kind of bird did you use?

Apollo: North American Kestrel. It's small-Bodied, but its wingspan is expansive enough that it sets off the motion detectors.

Parker: I would've gone with the Scarlet Tanager. Similar wingspan, but the brighter colors are more distracting.

Apollo: Yeah. That was my second choice.

(Apollo scrambles forward in the ductwork. Parker also scrambles forward, headed another way)

- - - - -

eliot taking off his shirt too? equal rights

- - - - -

Starke: Now, why would you want to kill Sophie?

Chaos: Come on, Starke. (gathering equipment) I had set up the perfect double-cross, and then you want to go and bring in a new player at the last minute? "Oh, and by the way, guys, that new player is gonna be Sophie Devereaux." There's no way I’m gonna try to out-con Sophie Devereaux! And I hate to break it to you, Starke, but she was the one that everybody was always scared of. It was never you.

- - - - -

[McRory’s Bar]

(Parker and Apollo sit at a table with locks)

Parker: Go.

(they begin picking locks to see who is fastest. Across the room, Eliot and Mikel sit at a table)

Mikel: I can top that. (pulls her shirt aside to show a scar on her shoulder) Frag grenade, Somalia.

Eliot (pulls up his sleeve to show scar on his arm): Myanmar. Sniper.

Mikel: I was a sniper in Myanmar for a while.

Eliot: When?

Mikel: 2003.

(Eliot looks surprised. Mikel holds up the handcuffs and Eliot quickly pulls her hand down)

Eliot: Oh, no, no, no, no, no. We can't have that.

Hardison (walking by): Handcuffs. Y'all nasty

(eliot has a handcuff kink and was probably pegged within an inch of his life that night. I said what I said.)

- - - - -

(Sophie stands looking down at her grave. The headstone for Katherine has been replaced with one for Sophie Devereaux. Nate approaches and stands next to the grave)

Sophie: Starke was right. I'm not Sophie Devereaux anymore. I haven't been for ages. I... you killed her, you and your silly crusade.

Nate: It's just a name.

Sophie: No, they're not just names, not to me. All my aliases, every one of them, I -- I know when their parents died. I know when they had their first kiss.

#leverage #leverage 2.07 #leverage 2x07 #the two live crew job #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

[plctitude]

* hailee steinfeld, cis woman + she/her  | you know juliet 'jet' rothschild, right? they’re 24, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, twelve years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to don't blame me by taylor swift like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole inability to sit properly, constantly tapping her fingers on any surface, never taking shots with chasers, thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 15, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

hello ! im gel and this is my little goon jet ! lmk if you wanna plot something

full name : juliet carter rothschild . preferred name / nickname : jet . age : twenty - four . birthday : march 15 . sexual orientation : lesbian . relationship status : single . occupation :  barista , musician , music producer . residence : delphinus heights .

history ––

juliet was born into a loving family in southern virginia , williamsburg to be exact . her family wasn’t loaded but they were comfortable enough that juliet could take guitar and piano and drum lessons and play sports and do basically whatever she wanted to try.

unfortunately for her parents , the drums were what really stuck with her . sure , she can still play the other instruments she learned growing up , but the drums were her safe space , her comfort .

nevertheless , they supported her because she was their little girl and as an only child , it was easy to spoil her . she loves her parents , wouldn’t trade them for anything in the whole world . because they were her whole world .

at 12 , her whole world came crashing down . she doesn’t remember much , if she’s being honest . all she really remembers was being pulled out of school and police officers telling her that her parents wouldn’t be back . they weren’t dead , as far as anyone knew , but they also weren’t anywhere to be found .

so her aunt offers to take her in , and juliet moves to irving . she starts going by jet , eager to leave behind the life she knew back in williamsburg . her aunt goes with it , doesn’t want to upset the 12 year old girl who just became an orphan . neither of them really talk about where her parents are , but they both hope they’re still out there , trying to make it back to her .

it takes a year or two but jet gets used to being in irving . it doesn’t just become her aunt’s town , it becomes hers . and the house in delphinus heights becomes her home , too. and when her aunt gets a girlfriend , who’s then a wife , jet is ecstatic . she loves seeing her aunt happy and in love .

at 15 , jet realizes she doesn’t like boys , she likes girls . she actually comes out to her aunt’s wife first – kind of an accident, really – , but everything goes smoothly and she’s never felt freer . at 16 , she meets a girl , a beautiful girl whose eyes rival the ocean , whose smile lights up her nights . and they fall in love , and it’s wonderful and deep and consuming and healing . but this is when jet learns all good things must come to an end . it’s when she’s running home , tears streaming down her face that she learns what heartbreak really feels like . it’s when she sits at her drum set , hole blown through the snare drum , cymbals crashing to the ground , that she realizes how close hate and love sit on a spectrum .

at 17 , she’s about to graduate and go to college when she changes her mind . she’s not going . her aunt’s not happy about it , but jet’s never really wanted anything but music anyway . so she gets a job , then another job , because ‘ if you’re going to stick around , you’re going to help pay the bills ’ . and it’s the beginning of something beautiful .

at 18, she starts producing her own music . it’s just some simple songs , but it’s a sign of progress nonetheless . she saves up money , uses what’s not for bills and rainy day savings to pay for a class . she learns everything she can about music production , music theory , recording , etc.

at 19, she joins a band , and it goes well until it doesn’t anymore . they’re getting gigs , they’re popular , but it’s breaking from the inside because everyone’s convinced they’re going to be the next big thing and their egos swell to the point where they can’t all fit in the same room anymore .

at 20 , she regroups , focuses on her own stuff again . she does some small producing work on the side , helping other artists who aren’t as well versed with the production stuff . it’s good money , good learning opportunity , and good exposure .

at 21 , she gets a job as a bartender on top of her barista job , hoping to save for her own place in irving . she doesn’t really want to move out but her aunt and her wife are trying to start a family . and she doesn’t want to be in the way .

at 22 , her aunt gets pregnant , and with her wife picking up more shifts to cover the impending financial burden of having a baby , jet decides to stay .

now ––

her parents are still missing , but honestly it’s been so long they may as well be dead . she still misses them , sure , but the whole in her heart isn’t as large as it was when she was 12 . at least not for the same reasons .

she’s still producing music , but it’s become more of her job than a hobby . it’s good money , for the most part , but she wants more time for her stuff .

her aunt gave birth last year and jet spends a lot of time with her cousin , frey . she quit her job as a bartender to take over as a full time babysitter , but she doesn’t mind . she loves playing her music for the little boy , though her aunts are weary about her teaching him the drums when he gets older .

she’s still writing and playing music , but she definitely makes time to go out and have a good time because why not ? someday you could just disappear and you would’ve spent your whole life agonizing over trivial things when you could just ~have fun~

her aunt still wants her to go school , tbh because that’s what her parents would have wanted for her . she struggles to bite back the ‘ well my parents aren’t here ’ on the tip of her tongue every time they have that argument .

personality ––

becoming an orphan at such a young age kind of fucked her up , for the lack of a better term . she developed some anger issues as a teen , most of which she would take out on her drum set . lord only knows how many sticks she’s broken .

she love love loves playing the drums . it’s her absolute favorite thing in the world and it helps her calm down , get through a bad day , or even to make a good day even better . it lets her get a lot of her energy out and to her , it’s really the one thing she can count on to never leave . if she’s not near her drums , she’s probably tapping her foot or tapping her fingers on a table . it’s her go-to fidget move , which can get a little annoying .

her one serious relationship showed her how deep she could fall so she’s decided to not let that happen at all costs . she’s more of a hookup kind of gal , and a bit of a heartbreaker at that , but she’s honest with people . she’s not looking for a relationship . not right now , maybe not ever . once she actually has feelings for someone , she’ll avoid them or do whatever else to get over it . can’t get your heartbroken if you never let anyone near it , right ?

she’s a bit of a partier sometimes , especially when she’s got a lot of pent up energy . basically she’s got two sides , a fun party side and a sweet niece side. she’s got a wicked tolerance for alcohol , to be honest , but that sometimes means she’ll get crossed or not eat just so she can feel drunk faster .

she’s not the greatest barista ( think like almost as bad as rachel from friends ) , but she’s gotten a hell of a lot better than when she first started .

she’s gay so she can’t sit properly ever lmao . she’s more likely to sit on top of a table , rather than the chair at the table .

she’s a bit of a dork with puzzles , like she loves doing puzzles . they’re her favorite way to zone out , but no one is allowed to know this except maybe her best friend(s) bc she has a reputation pls

wcs ––

The Ex Girlfriend™ – it was super deep , super intense , and ended super badly

ride-or-die – been best friends since she came to town , literally inseparable , can always count on the two of them to be getting into trouble back in school

music clients – a singer-songwriter she produces for

unlikely or secret friends ? – not really sure what the reason would be but im sure we could come up with one

ex-hookups , current hookups , future hookups - @women : would love to plot these out ! ( just as a warning though , i do not write smut bc im ~uncomfy~ with that but im down for mentions and flirting )

friends of her aunts or something !

favorite coffee shop customers !

ex-bandmate , ex-clients , high school classmates, etc.

big down for literally anything !

#irvingintro #this is also kinda long oops #( HEADCANON // jet rothschild . )

[lightbulb77724]

Here is a short story I made for school

While walking down the street isabela and katie came across a group of six teenagers that look close to their age. Kaite ran towards them, Isabela just stood there and assumed they knew each other so she decided to join them. When she got closer she felt that they had met before.

“Hey issy” a short girl in a bright orange hoodie called over

“Oh um hey?” isabela was confused; she didn't know how they knew her. Her sister never said anything about them and she wasn't one to go to parties or anywhere for that matter so how is it that they knew her. Then she saw that the girl wasn't human. She had the ears of a fox and a tail to match. She also noticed how much she tried to hide them constantly trying to pull the hood up and keep her tail tucked in. She then noticed her face was wearing an eye patch covering her right eye.

“You don’t remember us do you” a girl with long black hair next to the short girl. She kept pulling her back to her side every time she tried to run. She also had an eye patch on her right eye and a pentagon on her left wrist holding the girl. “Ahh always the forgetful one am i rite kiki” a blond girl said “what did i say about calling me that” the short boy said next to her. The girl was wearing an olive green jacket drinking coffee. The short boy had white hair and hoodie clearly annoyed with the girl's nickname. A boy with black hair stepped up holding the hand of a girl who looks similar to him which isabela assumed to be his twin “can we get on with why we are here please kaity” he said looking at the blond “o o ya sorry. Isabela we are here to help you find your group we will explain everything but first can everyone say your names i know we all know each other but she forgot” kaite said gesturing to her older sister and back at the group. She then pointed atthe boy with white hair “i’m-” “hey im cora but you know me as fox my aillis” the short one said “that's not your aillis it’s you last name.” the girl next to her said “i'm valkyrie vince valentine nice to see you again isabela” valkyrie put her hand out and isabela took it. “Hey can i speak now” they all nodded and he shighd “good, im kio hey” she nodded in return “clara nice to see you again” the girl looked at isabela “i would say the same but i still don’t remember” clara said it was fine next was the twins “ max and this here is my sister daisy, she’s shy so you won't hear much” cora and clara stifled a laugh and hid behind valkyrie who pushed them away not wanting to be apart of there jokes.

“Ok now that we all know each other we can talk about how they know you……...there your extras” isabela stared at her shocked and confused. “How i thought i got rid of you and your real people” “ok one ow! Don’t forget I'm one too. And two yes we are how do you think you're things go missing, a brownie no this isn't spiderwick chronicles this is real life be realistic” kaity said making isabela slightly mad “you lied to me for all of my life all of you did” isabela pointed at all of them remembering her past “i needed help and you all new it i trusted you now look most of them are missing and assumed to have died three ran away and who knows what happened to the rest” isabela started to cry so she looked away from them. She heard footsteps and someone hugged her from behind “ don’t forget everything happens for a reason that's what she told you right and that's why we're here let's bring them home”. After she calmed down, Cora let go and ran back to her spot next to valkyrie. Isabela turned around and asked for the time “3:04” clara looked to cora who looked back at her like they had just got the best idea “because its late how about we all get a motel room together like the old times and in the morning we can look” the blond stated kaity seemed to like that idea and happily clapped her hands “yes yes yes get in my car now who is driving” they all looked to each other “ME!” everybody except kio,val and daisy said. “Ok then how about the oldis drives” after valkyrie said that they heard cora giggling “ok no” isabela said sternly “ w-what why im 22” cora pouted “you never got your driver's license” katie said walking towards the car “and who’s fault is that” she said joining the blond “you crashed the car” a soft voice said “he was screaming daisy” cora said as she helped the girl get in to the back of katies seven seater ascent “because you hit a stop sign in front of a preschool” kio said walking away from them.

“Kio, where are you going?” Max said following him “I'm not joining you on the little treasure hunt” he said as he waved to his friends but stopped when Clara said she would tie him up and put him in the back. “ Clara, that's kid-naping” he said as he looked at her. “You're not a kid kiki” then he saw it. In her hands were rope he went to run but she was faster and tied him up. “Ya but if you my extras dissent that means he can turn into a child like the rest of you” she said as she helped Clara drag Kio back. “Solution: tie him up and put him in the front seat” and that's what they did. “So how are we all going to fit in the car” isabela counted the seats Max and Daisy are in the back with starfire isabelas alaskan malamute. Katie and Kio are in the front seats leaving the three middle seats with four people. “Solution:i’ll turn into a kid” and that's just what cora did. Isabela picked her up and sat next to Valkyrie who was next to Clara as they drove to a motel and started their search for 22 people with no leads.

The next morning cora went out to find leads with valkyrie at her side. Max and Daisy went to the store to see if they heard anything and for food. Katie and Kio stayed back while Clara and isabela left.

Isabelas perspective

Clara and I decided to take Katie's car and just drive around to see what we find. “Hey i got a question” i looked at her then back at the road “what job did lan have again”. I smirked remembering the reason she got the job for “she was a detective, said she was going to put me away if she found me why whats up ``''we should break into her office” i took a left heading straight to her place. I looked over and Clara looked confused. “She keeps the important ones at home” she nodded and we continued.

Once we got there Clara went in to get the file. I waited in the car listening to music when Clara opened the door handing me the file. “Ok now let’s see” we were going through the pages when Clara stopped me “what does that mean” i looked to where she was pointing and i was shocked. “That's the hospital record for poppy, it’s the one me,Em and some of the others were working at” she looked at me and i continued reading “poppy left the hospital and Em went after her, this was after the incident she and Em are still alive” i smiled. Something fell out of the file and Clara picked it up. “What is that?” she looked at it then back at me shocked “it’s a letter… from Kristena to Lan.” I looked at her surprised. Clara asked me if she could read it and I nodded in response. As she got closer to the end she read a part that made me happy “while i was looking around the woods i found poppy hope we can all get together again”. I looked up at her and saw she had a smile “there looking for each other, not only that but we got a lead there in the woods” we started up the car and noticed a police car coming our way so we had to just go.

We got back to the motel and Clara filled everyone in on the situation. Turns out Max and Daisy heard something at the store just a rumor but we take what we need.

We pulled up to the abandoned hospital and got out of the car. “ Leave my dog cora” I said as I saw her trying to get her out of the car. I got out my flashlight and the rest followed. The building was dark. It was destroyed on the inside and there was also graffiti everywhere. We all split up into groups of two. I was with Cora. Cora had a duffel bag to carry whatever we found. I just had a flashlight. The hallway we were going through was dark and disgusting. It seemed to connect to the other hallways and a staircase. The rest of us met in the center of the building when Cora ran into a room throwing something in her bag. We heard a creak and Clara looked up. Right above Cora there was a light that started to fall on her. Lucky Clara was faster and pushed her out of the way. I went to check on Cora who was slammed into a boiler. “ Wow Clara I get she is loud but you didn’t have to go that far” Valkyrie joked and started laughing until Max hit her in the back of the head. Me and Katie helped her up. Whail Katie was checking her I looked around and heard a whistling sound coming from behind me. “ Um, what's that sound?” I turned to look at them and saw it. Cora broke the boiler and it's about to explode with the heat. “Run!” I grabbed Clara and Kio and the rest followed.

We were running as fast as we could when we heard an explosion. I turned around to check on them when I saw fier. I let go of their hands as they all ran ahead. I just stood there staring at the fire getting bigger and closer. Cora noticed I didn't join them and when to get me as she was still oblivious to the fier. “Hey what's that smell” as she looked up her eyes widened in fear. Cora started to shake her head over and over again repeating “no, not again”. Valkyrie came to get us “if you stay longer you’ll burn come on, cora”. I might not remember much of them but I do remember Cora is afraid of fire from past trauma and so was i. Cora transformed into a five year old but still didn’t move. Valkyrie picked her up and took my hand, dragging me out.

Once we were outside I could finally breathe. I looked over and saw Cora crying as Valkyrie concerts her. Just because they act like they hate each other doesnt mean they aren't there for one another. “Good your ok i don’t know what i would have done with your dog if you died” clara said but i can clearly tell she was going to cry. Katie came and hugged me while Max was holding his sister.

“I'm sorry we found nothing, “ Daisy said as we walked back to Katie's car. I looked at her and smiled “at least we made it out alive”. I looked at all of them and when I got to her she was smiling like a mad man. “What's wrong with you, you almost died,” Kio said when he grabbed her hoodie. Cora started to laugh “we can’t die remember” Kio looked back at her and smirked “wanna go back and test that”. Cora looked at him shocked and I started to laugh. Max cleared his throat and we all stopped and looked at Cora . She opened her bag and pulled out a camera giving it to me. As I looked at it I saw the name MAC was carved into the side. “Hey max who did you say was there?” i said pointing to the building on fire “ Em why what’s up?” he said looking back at me. I opened up the compartment and read the tape. I was about to speak when I heard sirens. “Get in, I know where to go”. When i was driving cora kept trying to grab the camera. Once she successfully grabbed it with her tiny arms Katie showed her how to play previous tapes.

“Heyyyy welcome to the mother tree” a girl with blue and pink hair said as she sat on a rock with a tree growing on it. “What about Fort rose?” a asian girl with black long hair said. Walking next to her was isabela and a short tan skinned girl all holding sticks. “Apparently things i make don’t matter” isabela said with a pout the short girl pushed her and laughed. “Nana, I was looking for you” the camera focused on two girls both with medium length brown hair. “Ahh what can i say everyone loves me, calm down D and B it was a joke” the one known as nana said to the girls rolling their eyes as she followed them. The camera then focuses on a blond girl holding a baby star fire “ashy what do you hate about fort rose?” mac said to the blond. “They can’t keep things neat” she said as a tall dark skinned girl came from behind the huge old house “o.c.d” she whispered pointing at the girl. “That's not a seacret nole” a girl with her brown hair in a side pony said, scaring the two girls. “Holy- jessy don’t scare people like that, what is it?”nole said staring at the girl. “Have you seen Nia,Em or Emilia?”Jessy said, looking at all of them. Mac then got up and walked to the back of the house. When she got there she saw all of her friends. The rest of them went to sit down for a group photo. “I just want to say tha-”

I took the camera away not wanting to hear what else i had to say thou i remember it like if it was yesterday. “W-what day is it” I yelled at myself for stuttering and started to get out of the car not wanting them to see me like that. We stopped outside the woods. I heard everyone get out of the car. Star fires coller got closer to me till she was by my side. I smiled at her then walked into the woods.

After hours of walking we made it to the mother tree still the same as all those years ago. The old tree was standing tall. The top half broke off years before they found it but it was still surrounded by flowers planted by poppy and some of the rest. It still looked beautiful to me. Carved into it was the sibule we used for fort rose. A small circle with nineteen in it, around it was a bigger circle with four loops connected to the smaller one. Behind the tree was a huge old house. The red paint worn down from harsh weathers and been unattended for years. We all built the house together with rooms for all of us. It was our get away. It belonged to us and no one else. It’s the only home where people like us could go that kept us together. I walked around to the back there was a bonfire in the middle of flat ground by the eave of the roof are folding chairs for everyone. There were five picnic tables. Attaching the tree’s together were fairy lights none of which are plugged in.

I went to the door and noticed one of the lights was on. I stuck my arm out telling them to stop moving. I then opened the door and in front of me was a short girl with black hair. She was shocked and so was i. “BB?” she ran to me and hugged me close. “It's good to see you again,” she said as she let go. “How are you, how did you get here i have so many questions”

She nodded and looked behind me “I will explain later”. She pulled us all in and sat us down in the living room. It was the same as a few seating places: a fireplace,tv,bookshelves,plants, and the group photo. Only thing is that the people aren't here making it really sad and lonely. “I'm happy your back, but there is something or rather some people that need to see you again”.

#creepypasta #oc #la la land

[mybeloved73]

My name is Chelsea and I’m a ITU Nurse.

I’m also a newly qualified nurse - I literally left Uni last year and began my job in the September.

My background - I didn’t always want to be a nurse. I wasn’t cut out for that sort of compassion or care. I dreamt of being a PT, an athlete, anything that was sports driven.

Until my boyfriend had a bike accident, that then left him in ITU. He later succumb to his injuries and passed away. The nurses looking after him, changed my life. Shining light kind of moment - I want to be just like them kind of thing.

Granted it took me 4 years to build up the courage, battling my PTSD, severe depression and anxiety to even apply to uni. But I did it - and Sept 2019 I got my Pin as a registered nurse.

Now, if you 1) think covid19 was made up, a conspiracy or the numbers have been made up as a scare tactic or 2) you actually believe wearing a face covering will cause ‘respiratory arrests’ ‘acidosis’ blah... stop reading. Because this isn’t for you. Or even 3) you have the view of ‘its their job’ - back away from your screen.

You’ve seen in the news about the public sector pay rise? That nurses aren’t included, nor the junior doctors, physio’s etc (I use etc as there are so many people being forgotten in all this and it is used lovingly and not to cause offence)? Honestly, Im so glad that others are being recognised for their input and help during this - the teachers who put in extra work for children of key workers, who sacrificed their home life to entertain little ones every day and try give them the education they need and deserve, to the police, military - anyone receiving this recognition. Honestly you deserve it. And the NHS will not shadow that or take it away from you.

We agree’d to a 3 year pay deal, that had the options of being reconsidered earlier than the final date if there was a change in circumstances. Covid19 should really be considered as a change in circumstances. I mean being told that you’re already ‘unskilled’ and watching people clap to STOP pay rises... was hard enough. But to have everyone else recognised for their vital contributions and lay something that was agreed in 2018 - is inexcusable.

You realise that most nurses didn’t get to see your claps on a Thursday? That’s handover time. And due to covid19 if their handover time was earlier - they were usually late because of how busy it was and still missed it.

I saw one. Because it so happened I had come off of nights the night prior.

So! My life during covid19 starts off with the busiest winter that my hospital has seen in ITU. We have 10 beds. We are funded for 7/8? We had to open an escalation centre that we stole from our day surgery unit to give us a further 3 beds.

Which in itself is hard - looking after seriously sick patients away from your actual designated and designed ward and without the continuous presence of doctors.

That wasn’t enough.

We had to then stole half of the recovery room, which usually houses patients post surgery whilst they wake up.

Going up to 16 patients. Remember - at this point. I’m THREE MONTHS qualified.

Learning is hard, steep, and in-depth. You’re suppose to be trained over the course of a year as a newly qualified, with study days and help from mentors etc. I couldn’t attend some of those days because we didn’t have the staff to look after the most patients our ITU had ever seen.

Now I know ITU is hard. I picked it.

I knew what it entailed, well partly.

I have to maintain my patients artificial airway. They either have a tube in their mouth or in their throat.

They’re then connected to a ventilator.

Every single setting on that machine, every button - changes something drastically.

From the fio2, PEEP, PS, PC, TV, MVE, PEAK, RR, PF ratio, ... one button, one alteration or mistake... literally can stop this person breathing. Cause respiratory distress, arrest.. trauma? anything.

Did you know I have to move that tube in their mouth every hour to stop pressure sores developing in their mouth? And I still have to brush their teeth and give oral care?

I have to suction down their throat and clear their lungs? Or suction their actual mouth for extra secretions?

And record all this data hourly.

To ensure that this patient is comfortable with this tube... I have to medicate this patient.

I have to keep them in an artificial coma.

Titrating the drugs to their optimum levels.

Some are measured mg/hr, mcg/hr, mcg/kg/min..

some have limits on maximum dose per hour you can use.

Some have really severe side effects.

Such as noradrenaline. Which can literally cause your fingers and toes to become necrotic.

I have to monitor someone’s glucose - whether you’re diabetic or not, and correct it if needed with insulin or dextrose.

I have to give diuretics but not allow your body to become too negative, I have to give fluid challenges to ensure you’re not vascular depleted.

I can help your kidneys with the use of a dialysis machine. Literally filter your blood of toxins your body can no longer remove without help of a machine. This requires constant blood tests to ensure that you aren’t collecting dangerous toxins or you need additional support from the machine.

I can use a machine to check your cardiac output and interpret it to make sure that you have enough fluid vs a drug that’ll help squeeze your heart instead.

I can read an ECG and tell if you need additional supplements such as potassium. Do further tests for magnesium, phosphates etc. And deliver those.

I can feed you through a tube down your nose, and ensure you absorb it. But it’s okay I can give you medication to also help that - these require me to do daily ECGs though, and interpret the data of your QTC to make sure it’s not affecting your heart.

Now. If that’s not enough. Covid happens.

Now remember our record was 16 patients?

Try doubling that.

We worked in our ITU,

Escalation centre

Recovery - we took the whole thing.

Next - we took over operating theatres.

3 patients in theatre 6

3 in 5

3 in 4

2 in 3

We stole theatre staff, recovery nurses, ODPS, ward nurses, retired nurses, health visitor nurses, anyone we could relocate to help us.

March - I’m 6 months qualified.

I’m now the most qualified ITU nurse in my theatre.

I have people who have never looked after a ventilated patients before asking me for help. Please don’t silence my alarm if you don’t know why it’s alarming. I know it’s loud and annoying but it’s telling me everything I need to know with enough time before I need to panic.

Now - covid patients weren’t just sick. Weren’t just needing help to breathe. These patients were all sorts of ‘new’. Nothing made sense!

These patients COULDNT be ventilated. We needed to paralyse them to literally be able to take over their breathing properly! No amount of sedation worked! Their lungs were fibrous and acting like elastic under tension.

Side note - if your patient wasn’t sedated enough compared to paralysis - they could be silently awake, but completely paralysed. Knowing everything happening to them. But unable to do anything - not even breathe. Every time you start rocuronium you need to remember that. If you’re withdrawing treatment - TURN THE ROC OFF FIRST. And wait before you do anything else.

Back to it. They were so unstable that you try roll them, which we usually do 4 hourly to prevent pressure sores - they desaturated to numbers so low that you would usually see some hypoxia brain injury after.

We couldn’t roll these patients without risking that. So you know what. You don’t roll.

So we couldn’t protect their skin integrity. You just watch them, and feel guilty.

Nursing school 101 - pressure sores are PREVENTABLE. Roll your patient. Skin care and hygiene is your best friend.

Now covid went against everything a nurse knows and holds dear.

Our ITU never had pressure sores. Until covid. Some had grade 4’s.

Maggot therapy.

Vacuum dressings.

These patients were also clotting, and sending off clots to their kidneys, liver, heart, brain. Covid made your blood super sticky!!!!

People were having strokes whilst being sedated, going from fit to multi organ failure in days. I’m trying to save these people, knowing they could possibly wake up with complete left side paralysis? Never talk again? Never be them again?

Now you know about these past medical histories etc?

You realise what that is?

that it could be Type 2 diabetes?

Hypertension?

That was it for some.

None of this thinking they were super sick, with lists longer than my arm, and that’s why they didn’t make it. No.

Literally things that happen with age. Poor diet? That 120/80 you’re happy you got - THATS PREHYPERTENSION.

I was probably hypertensive the entire time with anxiety.

Did you know We had to use the old anaesthetic ventilators. None of us had used those before. Those big bellows you see in films going up and down rhythmically. Those.

That was scary.

I’m use to a single touch screen button (hello modern technology) to deliver 100% o2 if my patient needs it. This has a switch to a bag, a button, dials to titrate o2 with normal air. And if I didn’t monitor the crystals in the bottom my patient would retain their own co2 and I wouldn’t know why.

New found love for anaesthetists and ODPS - these machines are NOT designed for prolonged use. But they helped us keep our patients alive. By literally guiding us and helping us look after the machines so we could do our job.

Now. All of this is made worse by PPE.

I’m hot.

It’s hot.

And intense and I’m working hard because tonight, I have 3 ventilated patients. By myself.

I have a gown on.

2 sets of gloves

An apron

An FFP3 mask

A hat

A visor

And no air con.

But I’ve got this. I can’t do my hourly checks because I am one person.

My super sick patients now have 2 hourly because it is physically impossible.

Where are the other staff?

Sick.

You’re watching these people struggle to breathe on machines and then being told your close friends at work, your mentors, your seniors are spiking temperatures. Some being admitted to hospital. Some not being able to come back to work for weeks.

Some ending up on your ventilators. It’s okay. I’ve got this.

I’m an ITU nurse right?

CPR wearing that get up. Is TOUGH. 27mins. I cried that day.

We lost 3 patients in 12 hours.

I held the hand of so many people as I turned off their ventilators because their families couldn’t be with them and no one should die alone. No one. I tried my best.. and then once my day had finished, I had to come home to my dad who is immunosuppressed. Who doesn’t understand boundaries. “Kevin stay in the other part of the house!”

*knocks on bedroom door with dinner*.

Proning. What an experience that is. And doing it Daily. The complications of that were scary before you even approach the patient.

So I’m going to flip my patient - who has a tube down their mouth to help breath, who is on medication for sedation, paralysis, to keep their blood pressure up.. from laying on their back - to laying on their front.

Seems easy?

Well it’s not. And requires like 8 people.

8 people.

We don’t have enough people as it is. So we now develop a proning team made up of everyone.

There are consultants, there are experts in their fields, there are physios and then I don’t know who else.

Honestly I couldn’t thank these people enough. More people would have died if we didn’t have a proning team. But now, people spent 23 hours laying on their front. Pressure sores on their faces. Potential of going blind? New complications of not being able to breathe we never expected.

We are finally back into one unit now. I’m still less than a year qualified. And I’m still running on adrenaline expecting this second wave. Those still reading, I know you’re thinking that she picked this job.

She knew what it meant.

And you’re right! Give me those complex drug calculations and ventilators. Oh and the scrubs!

But a pandemic? I didn’t pick that. The world didn’t pick that.

Honestly thank you, to the ward nurses - your lives got flipped upside down.

The physios who became best friends.

Consultants who literally got down and dirty with us.

To the domestics who cleaned furiously for us.

OT’s To literally orientate our patients when they’re waking up like 70 days later.

Every

Single

Person

Who

Helped.

Oh communication team made up of medical students, who updated the families because... I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave my patient. Not like this!

Matron who literally had to facilitate all this, with people who knew nothing about ITU. Being in ITU. Looking after ITU patients. Whilst her own ITU staff were sick, in hospital, or newly qualified, or working to the point they broke.

To the countless companies sending food, goodies, moral support !! Oh my god that was incredible to come to after not having a break for 6+ hours ... mmm... food!!

Did you know they’re offering support for the nurses to stop PTSD, or anxiety or just to help up digest what we saw? Psychological support for just doing your job?

But it’s okay.

We got a deal in 2018 for the pay.

We got clapped thursdays.

We all know that’s not enough, but we will still turn up for work.

We can’t leave our patients.

We can’t strike.

They’ll always mean more to us than pay. And the government knows that. Abuses that.

540 NHS staff lost their life doing ‘just their job’ - today the NHS staff walked through London protesting, to be heard. To be listened to. To be acknowledged. To be paid fair.

Sign the petition for us. Because we aren’t just here for covid. We’re here for life.

https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/316307

And just put your mask on - please - for that hour you go shopping.

I’ve been wearing mine since March 6th. 13+ hour days. Developed a nice grade one on my nose, my friends faces bleeding from using a rubber respirator....

And We’ll be like this for the foreseeable future.

Now that we have the stocks to do so anyways.

Oh and I’m pissed my graduation was cancelled! All that and I don’t get to wear the hat and gown. Bastard virus. (I understand there was more lost but humour me).

Signed, your registered ITU nurse. We will always continue to monitor.

[neverheardnothing]

rewatching joe iconis and family lincoln center performance at 4 am instead of packing or sleeping just to feel something and i have so FEW and so MANY thoughts and yall are gonna hear em all. no i will not put this under a cut. im going to be an absolute bastard about this.

i love the story joe tells about why he's singing mitb as the first song so much. like. the spite of it all. the defiance of it all. the pride of it all. the dig it or fuck off and disappear of it all. the joe iconis of it all. 

“i know exactly the song im going to sing as my first song at the american songbook series.” i love that he highlights the fact that this is the american songbook series.

then immediately jumping right into broadway here i come with molly hager, the other song he is most known for!!!

every time i think about this performance i think about how this was the first (?) time this song was performed by them since the closing of bmc.

and then lance rubin comes up to sing try again. which is the only time that i know of that anyone but joe has sung this song.

i remember a remark made during watching it live that having someone else sing the song made it seem so clearly more about joe and his career. but also having lance sing it immediately makes me think of bbh closing early which yeah is part of joe’s career but also lance’s.

and also the line “if you’re an actor and another actor gets the part you auditioned for” reminds me of how lance found the auditioning process of acting and the whole [not acting part] of an acting career to be terrible which is why he quit to then become an author and the juxtaposition of him singing try again is Something. but also he DID try again he is just applying his efforts to a different creative field and it’s working out great for him. good for lance rubin.

lol i haven’t even talked about the actual performance aspect of this song anyways it’s very different from the two versions ive seen of joe doing it. he plays it a lot more comical. i love it.

sidenote not specific about this performance, but i love love LOVE the line and the music at “use the stairs, walk to the street. see the people, feel the heat, and apply yourself again.”

and also the line “when they cast you out to sea, there’s a lifeboat manned by me called try and try again” will never not make me think of bsol/last on land and bonus lance was also in that show! it just keeps circling around.

everything about these past 3 songs performed at this venue in this set list order in this moment at joe’s career is honestly so wonderful. like you had a songs about an anxiety attack, a suicide/loss of self in success, and repeated failures before this song all sung by individuals. two of these songs were written at points where joe felt frustrated/sad with his career. one written in the aftermath of specific frustration about the first closing of be more chill. one an actual song from bmc. like what a SETLIST for your first three songs! fucking michael in the bathroom, broadway here i come, and try again. truly something.

THE WHISKEY SONG!! i love hearing joe sing so much. while i think we can all agree he’s not the most skilled singer there’s something special about hearing a composer perform their own work. he adds like 3 levels of charm to make up for lack of singing skills lol. just a very charismatic guy.

lance rubin back on tamborine for the next bit of the song and he’s like laughing through it. not completely sure what he’s laughing about honestly but this Is a comedic song (after 3 real downers of songs) and also joe was playing it up.

jared weiss down on the floor with his guitar playing along. that’s its own bullet point.

audience cheering as more family members start coming on stage! i love that the band is getting cheers. love that!!!

the camera isn’t on him but from the audio, nick blaemire is presumably running around giving high fives to people in the audience.

i can’t exactly tell with the camera angle and the lighting but i think that more family members get up from different seats in the audience or at least enter in the back and walk through the audience to get to the stage during this instrumental break. reminds me of how joe loves theater that physically touches you. giving you high fives in this case.

love liz lark brown. she plays it pretty like. frenetic and frazzled. love it.

amara, badia, danielle, will, and nick are just chillin sitting on the steps of the stage. 100% contributes to the vibe of this song. top fuckin notch.

SOMEONE screams AH during the drunk part of the song and i cannot figure out who but it gives me so much life.

jared pulling lance down to the floor with him.

jason going “man.... this place is a dump” like i LOVE the irreverence.

everyone actually getting back up and also converging On the stage during the (kind of) acapella break.

and now your whole gang is up on the stage at the fancy ass appel room singing your what sounds like a mostly upbeat fun song but is actually about self medication with alcohol and it’s a fucking jam. i love the 3 solo songs and then bringing in everyone for a big group number.

sidenote not about this specific performance: the lyrics “i’ll pour some more and then—AND THEN?—i’ll pass out and then—AND THEN!” the and thens were not on the things to ruin album and i wonder why not ALL the time. was it just deemed extraneous? or was this an innovation after the album was recorded?

i love that you can see the band singing along.

yesterdays / i can’t relate. i love this song i fucking love it. i love the synthy keyboard that was an active choice made. which means that joe is not the one accompanying jared in this song.

jared: i hate today. joe: *snorts in the background*

“i like music you can hold” -> old records black suits, susannah’s obsession with music which was of course in vinyl format back then

will once said hearing lgw was very exciting because he’s first and foremost a fan of joe’s so he was hearing a new joe song for the first time and the world got just a bit larger and i think about that quote a lot in relation to this song because i was like Oh i Get What He Means now because this is the first new joe song i heard since like getting into his work and i felt that world getting a bit bigger.

jared’s monotone chorus on top of the girls underneath is so good. it’s so fucking good i cannot.

liz lark brown velociraptor fuckin classic. specifically in this performance the weird ass electric guitar noise at “there’s a dinosaur” is SO good. i love it.

i know people say Trans Vibes from next song (jeff) but this song also gives me trans vibes. i think joe inadvertently writes stuff trans people relate to because of his propensity to write for People Who Are Different.

people cheering as will takes off his jacket hell yeah.

i am way more used to the jeremy morse version of this song and really consider it more his so it’s so fun to hear will sing it.

i love the canon of the “oh”s so much.

after will sings “i go to the window looking out and what do i see? myself just staring back at me.” and someone in the audience AUDIBLY goes “oh.” like what a MOMENT. way more subtle than when someone screamed “WHAT” at the “naked korean girl” reveal during the pipe night performance but on the same tier of Great Audience Reactions.

smooth fuckin gliss bro i love it. arms out by side. i love it.

Classic Jason Sweettooth Williams Singing Helen. but this time they added like some REAL like. oh god i have no idea how to describe it. electric crunchy electric guitar noises. and it’s so good.

i havent mentioned this yet but in the background of every song people who are not in it or are backup vocals are just sitting and jamming along and it’s so nice because me fuckin too.

honest to god just have to give a timestamp for this but bullet point for whatever the fuck eric is doing in the background here.

will and katrina circling each other singing directly into each other’s faces. so good.

the Unexpected dynamic change and following crescendo i am Living.

katrina rose dideriksen riffing up top. yes. YES.

joe starting to play helen sharp and then forgetting part of his introduction to the song is so good.

the inevitable laughter at any performance of this song at “it is not lost on me you’re all here at my show”

i know nothing about the movie death becomes her so i honestly always just think about joe when this song gets performed. also thinking about how in the youtube premiere of this song, joe was talking about how lauren was shouting out the names of all the musical theater composers joe is jealous of.

right place/wrong time. i read a bsol review a while ago about how katrina rose dideriksen was underutilized and gotta say i Agree holy Shit let her sing More.

i also remember how joe once said this song felt the most personal to him and that he cried when writing it

police siren piano.

the first time in this entire song they sing in sync is at the line “i wonder if his/her life is just like mine” and i just start screaming.

when eric and katrina turn to each other for the first time and start singing At each other!!!!!!!!!!!

honey! thinking about jen ash tep talking about how Each performance of this song gets Wilder and Wilder.

love it when nick just gets off the stage and starts singing to people in the audience. apparently one of the people was will’s mom lol.

ACAPELLA BREAK!!!!!! joe just fully gets up from piano and starts WILDLY clapping along!!!!

woman of a certain age! i remember when the live show happened the album had not come out yet and then when the yt premiere of it happened it Had been out for a week or so.

piano note elevator bell

the electric guitar is doing some fucking weird ass things in this song and i am living so fucking much for it.

the riffs badia does are so fucking incredible i immediately paused this video to go and watch her sing big fat ruby again just because i wanted more badia content.

the story behind old flame is so good and joe waiting until the last fuckin moment to give her the song is so fuckin funny.

i love love love these types of joe songs that are like 7 minute long story epics like right place/wrong time and the actress and ammonia and old flame.

“the best way to get past the past is to shoot it in the head” and then the audience cheers and i fucking love it. my commentary is getting shorter. it’s 6 am and i’m tired can you tell. i also just had a lot of thoughts about this early on and less thoughts about later on.

revolution song. the deep ass fucking electric bass is So good i Will go apeshit. like honestly that might be my favorite smaller detail of this song. like i imagine if i were in the room it might be loud and deep enough that i could feel it In my chest. like you can Feel the revolution coming.

i love the faster tempo revolution song has in the cabaret version.

i also love the cabaret specific lines of “evolution in the institution”

joey is a punk rocker was honestly not ever on the list of songs i thought would get performed here but im so glad that they did. like the obvious choice would have been veins for annie golden but they went this route. obsessed with this choice. obsessed with the fact that amphibian replaced this song as the act 2 opener. obsessed that annie is the one singing this.

i am never not screaming about wave and yall know this. just throwback to me losing it in the tags in a reblog of picture of the wave passage going on about how it really does mirror joe’s career and bmc specifically. and again this song being performed for the first (?) time since bmc closed makes the “so today on a hill in las vegas” and onward part SO fucking sad i literally just started crying. the entire song being in past tense up until that part. i will just go die now.

will in the yt premiere talking about texting the line “our energy would simply prevail” in the leadup to bmc coming back.

find the bastard. for some reason when this happened live i thought it was gonna be outlaw that was performed. 

i swear to god it is literally physically impossible for me not to AT LEAST mouth along to “what’s your name, what’s your name” during this song

NAMES ARE FOR ACCOUNTANTS.

MY NAME IS AWFUL LONG AS IT’S THE LYRICS OF THIS SONG.

the goodbye song. it’s never not sad. i love love love that this song is the final song every concert. i also love the recent lore of finding out that penny dreadfuls was the encore song at concerts before they became too long and it had to get cut.

finally gonna mention the background car lights. what a beautiful backdrop.

also since im always on my wrol bullshit i love how fucking clearly you can hear him at the end

accelerando accelerando accelerando. insert [joe iconis peaked when he wrote the accelerando in the goodbye song post of mine].

katrina singing an octave up is always SO fucking impressive i am so impressed by her voice she is so fucking good i love her so much

the bows are so fucking sweet i love them.

goodnight it’s 7 am.

#teresa talks #also as my life gets Increasingly busier i decide to come back #social media truly a cesspit i can never escape #many no thots head empty full yes no <3 #im very tired #iaf #joe iconis

[selanpike]

Abandoned Trollcops/Problem Sleuth fic

i’m bored so i’m posting this old trollcops concept i wrote a couple years ago

i meant to have it be this big sprawling thing, including all the trolls and the beta kids and team sleuth and the crew, but it was way too big for me, so all i ended up writing was the first three chapters--basically, the intros for sleuth, pickle and ace. 

i don’t plan to return to it. i still can’t get my head around the whole thing. but i like what i wrote, and maybe you might like it too? so here u go.

Chapter One

Spending any amount of time with Spades Slick is dangerous at best, you knew that. You also knew that you were making things worse by spending so much time with him, but you were counting on bruises and stab wounds, not this.

The interrogation room is sickeningly bright. The lights make it impossible to know what time it is outside. You know it was close to sunrise when they brought you in, but you’re not sure how long you’ve been here. Even the ticking of a clock would be a welcome reprieve from this boredom. You wish they’d just throw the book at you already.

The door finally opens, creaking a little as it does so. Apparently the Alternia Police Department can’t even afford a can of WD-40. Two officers walk in. You recognize them from your various interactions with the police in the past few years--Sergeants Terezi Pyrope and Sollux Captor. Sergeant Pyrope pulls up a chair and sits down at the table across from you, lacing her fingers together. You can’t read her expression through her opaque red glasses. You’ve heard that she’s blind, but she seems to stare right through you.

“Problem Thleuth.” Sergeant Captor reads from your file, standing behind his partner. “Thirty-five yearth old. Prothpitian. Failed out of polithe academy at age twenty-four. Ith that right?”

“I wouldn’t say failed,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “I jus’ didn’t like how y’all--I mean. I wasn’t a fan ‘f the bureaucracy.”

“Is that so,” Terezi says.

You nod.

“So you dropped out and became a private investigator,” she says. “Is that right?”

“You know the answer to that,” you say, rubbing your temples. “Don’t pretend like we’re strangers.”

The silence that breaks out is painful. You run a hand through your hair, quietly wondering if your hat is okay, wherever they’ve taken it. Why the hell did they take your hat? What sort of monsters would mess with a man’s hat? This sort of shit is why you could never cut it as a cop.

“You’re charged with being an accessory to arson,” Pyrope tells you. 

“Do me a favor ‘n arrest th’ guy who actually did th’ arson-ing,” you mutter.

“The alleged perpetrator is one Thpades Thlick,” Captor says, reading the file. “Damn, man. Thpades, really?”

“I ain’t an accessory t’ nothin’ that asshole does,” you say, slamming a hand on the table. “I was tryin’a stop that goddamn arson!”

“We have multiple witnethheth who thay they thaw you making out with the thuthpect before the fire broke out,” Captor says.

You wilt under their stares.

“I was tryin’a distract ‘im,” you say, weakly. “He’s a dangerous customer, after all. ‘S the ol’ honey pot maneuver, y’know?”

“It didn’t work,” Pyrope says, grinning her sharp-toothed grin. 

“N--no,” you admit.

Sergeant Captor hands Pyrope the file, and she makes a show of flipping through it. It’s a pointless gesture since you know damn well she can’t read it. You try to look at what’s written on the pages, but she pulls the file away so she can give it a good long sniff. You slump over, leaning your arms on the table, thinking about how fucked you are, and what you’re going to do to Slick to get back at him for this. They’ll put you away for ages for this, you just know it. The APD have never been fans of yours, and you’re sure they’ve been waiting for the opportunity to put you away. 

You jump when Pyrope snaps the folder shut. She puts it down on the table, sliding it to the edge.

“I’m going to admit,” she says, slowly. “That, considering your history of making trouble, we took this opportunity to get a warrant to search your office.”

“You--you what?!”

“Well, the thusthpect is thtill on the looth,” Captor explains, and you wonder if you punch him hard enough if he’ll stop with that goddamn lisp. “We had to check and thee if there were any clueth ath to hith whereaboutth.”

“And what did you find, huh?” You’re raging mad now, and you aren’t bothering to hide it. “A whole bunch of jack shit. Or are you going to charge me with possession of a deadly writing implement or something?”

The two of them stare at you for a moment, and then Pyrope pulls a photo from her jacket. She places it in front of you. It shows your evidence wall, a large corkboard you’ve set up in your office to collect clues in the murder you’re investigating.

“So, what? You gonna charge me with murderin’ th’ District Attorney now?”

Pyrope and Captor look at each other, then back at you.

“We’ve been investigating the DA’s death too,” Pyrope says. “But we haven’t turned up a thing.”

“And here you are,” Captor adds. “With evidenthe we never even thought to look for.”

You grin a little. “Oh darlin’s, are you jealous?”

“We know Kingpin was behind it,” Pyrope says, and her voice is uncharacteristically devoid of humor. “Like he’s behind every other high-profile murder in this city. I’m sick of him making a mockery of this force.”

“Stop bein’ such a joke, then.”

 She stands up, slamming her hands on the table. “Take this seriously!”

You raise your eyebrows and wait for her to get to the point.

“We’re willing to offer you a deal,” she says. “We’ll ignore this latest… indiscretion, and you’ll help us put Kingpin behind bars.”

You laugh.

You can’t believe they’re actually coming to you for help. How many times have they impeded your investigations? How many times have they told you to buzz off, leave this to the real cops? How many times have they told judges not to accept your evidence, or straight up confiscated your evidence and claimed they found it themselves? And now they want you to help them?

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, still chuckling. “I musta misheard. Y’ couldn’t possibly be askin’ for my help. I mean, I ain’t a cop or nothin’. I ain’t got no authority.”

“Don’t be a jackathh,” Captor snaps.

“This is in your best interest,” Pyrope says. “You are, after all, still under arrest.”

She does sorta have you, there.

---

You have your hat back when Sergeant Captor takes you outside, to the back of the department. The sun has definitely risen by now, and you’re treated to all the sounds of the city waking up.

“Thith whole thing ith completely off the record,” Captor tells you as he closes the door behind him. “Honethtly, I think it’th dumb ath hell, but at leatht if you get into trouble, nobody’ll blame uth.”

“As long as I don’t trail it back to you,” you add.

“Obviouthlly,” Captor says. He pulls out his phone and types into it. “But we need one of ourth with you. Making thure you’re not fucking up too bad.”

“I’d really prefer we skipped that part,” you say, fixing your hair and trying to find just that right angle at which to wear your hat. “I don’t need no cops following me everywhere. It’ll slow me down.”

“Think of it like exthtra security,” Captor says, still typing into his phone.

The door opens and a short troll walks over, hands shoved in his pockets. He isn’t wearing a uniform, save for a badge he has hanging on a lanyard over a ratty red hoodie. He approaches you and Captor, then squints at you.

“I know you,” he says.

“I get around,” you reply.

“You’re that drunk fucknut that’s always making a scene in Crew territory.”

“Guilty as charged. Y’all’re jus’ gettin’ me on ev’rythin’ t’day!” You nudge Captor. “Sorry officer, looks like y’ gotta charge me for another crime.”

Captor groans and rolls his eyes. He slaps the newcomer on the back and mutters, “Good fucking luck,” before heading back inside.

You wait for the door to click shut before you say, brightly as you can manage, “The name’s Problem Sleuth. Solicitations for my services are--”

“I’m sorry, do I look like someone who gives a fuck?”

You drop the friendly act. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Vantas,” He says. “Karkat Vantas. I’m the undercover guy. I figure I got stuck with this because they figured I could tell the Captain I’m investigating you.”

“‘N I’m sure she’ll buy it,” you add.

“Yeah.” He sniffs, and looks you over in more detail. “I don’t think I’m the only one they’re gonna hand you. I know for sure they said they’re putting my partner, Nepeta, on this case too.”

You rub your face. “Great. Good. More cops, beautiful.”

He asks for your phone, and you exchange numbers. You then tell him to find something else to do with his day, because you’re going home and going the fuck to bed. This investigation can wait until tomorrow. 

---

It’s well after 8am by the time you get home, and all you want to do is sleep for ten years. Pickle and Ace will bitch about you not being at the office, but you can’t bring yourself to care. They’re already going to bitch when they hear about this new arrangement, so what’s a little more?

Unfortunately when you walk in, you find Spades Slick rummaging through your refrigerator.

You toss your keys onto the table and sit down. He turns around, cold pizza hanging out of his mouth, and slams the fridge door shut behind him. 

“I figured they’d have ya’ in th’ slammer a few weeks,” he explains through a mouthful of pizza. “So y’ wouldn’t mind if I ate yer food ‘fore it went bad.”

“Y’ couldn’t possibly post bail for me?”

“Fuck no. Who do y’ think y’ are, my Crew?” He moves his mug of coffee from the counter to the kitchen table, and then sits down across from you. “So who’d y’ call. Th’ stickbug? Did ‘e hafta give up his booze fund for th’ month?”

“No, nothin’ like that,” you say, reaching over and taking the coffee. Obviously sleep isn’t happening anytime soon, so what the hell. “They let me off.”

There’s a loud clatter as Slick’s chair falls over, and a knife is at your throat. It always amazes you how fast he is. You raise your hands in a conciliatory manner as he snarls at you.

“You fuckin’ snitched, didn’t you?”

“Slick, my most precious of darlin’s,” you say. “I would snitch on you all day, ev’ry day. But that ain’t what happened.”

“Bullshit!” The knife presses harder against your neck, and you feel blood beading along the blade. “Th’ APD don’ jus’ let people go, ‘specially not when they been with me. Th’ fuck did you do?”

“They hired me.”

He looks at you like you just sprouted a second head. He doesn’t move the knife at all.

You go on. “They’re investigatin’ Kingpin. They wanted my help.”

He finally pulls the knife away, but he doesn’t sit back down. “Great. Jus’ what I need.”

“Yeah, Slick,” you say, sipping the coffee. You’re not surprised that it tastes like shit. Slick probably isn’t used to brewing his own. That’s what he has lackeys for. “It’s exactly what you need. You want Kingpin outta th’ way? Jus’ let me ‘n the cops handle it.”

“Kingpin’s mine,” he growls.

“‘Scuse you.” You put the mug down. “‘M sorry, but did you know th’ stiff we found last week? No. Fuck no, y’ didn’t, ‘cause he was th’ law, ‘n he was my fuckin’ friend, not yours. Kingpin’s mine. He owns this fuckin’ apartment, my fuckin’ office, he’s got me by th’ balls without even tryin’ ‘n he murdered th’ DA ‘n none’f that’s got anythin’ t’ do with you.”

Slick narrows his eye at you, before pocketing his knife and stealing the mug back. He chugs the coffee down. 

“Fuck you,” he says, slamming the mug back onto the table. “I’ll do it my fuckin’ self.”

“Right,” you say as Slick grabs his jacket and makes for the door. “So I guess I’ll see ya’ tomorrow, then?”

He grunts in response, and slams the door behind him as he leaves.

You know he’ll be back. Partly because you know he can’t resist making your life miserable--the two of you have been caught up in your fucked up little dance for too long, and he’s not about to give that up--but also partly because you know he can’t take down Kingpin on his own. He’s tried for months to do things his way, to just murder his rival crime boss, but Kingpin is careful, and he’s elusive. In the end, the best way to go about bringing him down is to turn the city against him, to get the law on your side. If you can get an arrest warrant on him you can have the whole of the city’s resources helping you track him down. You could freeze his assets, plaster his face on every bulletin board in town. You’ll leave him no place to hide.

You’re going to do it. Your name is Problem Sleuth, and you are going to bring down Mobster Kingpin’s criminal empire.

The APD are definitely going to steal the credit when it’s all said and done, though, and that fact makes you sick to your stomach.

Chapter Two

> Be Pickle Inspector.

You feel as though you’re being punished for Sleuth’s poor life choices.

Nepeta Leijon is a new hire at the APD. She, and her friend Karkat, used to be common criminals. Pickpockets, for the most part, although you remember seeing a few other items on their rap sheet. You’d encountered them once or twice. Never up close--their crimes were never complicated enough to necessitate your intervention--but they’d show up sometimes as witnesses.

Uncooperative witnesses.

You were aware of their being hired. Something about the APD seeing them as valuable assets for undercover investigations. You see the logic, but you’ve never been a fan of undercover operations. You stand out too much. You’re too tall, too gaunt, too recognizable. Your preferred method has always been surveillance. You set up cameras and wiretaps all over the city, in all the seedier bars and meeting spaces. Nothing escapes your omniscient ogle.

Nothing except Kingpin. He’s careful. He doesn’t discuss anything important on the phone, least of all the phones in any of his businesses. You can’t figure out where he lives or where he holds any of his most secret of meetings. Even if you could, he always has too many guards patrolling his places, making it impossible for you to sneak in and plant anything.

It was infuriating before, but now with the death of the DA it’s got you on the end of your rope. And now they want you to babysit this rookie cop? How the hell are you supposed to get anything done?

You asked Sleuth what he did to invite this upon you, but he won’t tell you. You suspect Slick was involved. Slick is always involved these days. 

You have a solution to this problem, though. Well, not to the Sleuth-Slick problem, there’s no solving that, but the Nepeta problem was easy: let her work on transcribing your recordings so the two of you can finish them twice as fast. It leaves you with just enough free time to make tea and doodle in the margins of your notes. 

You’re halfway through a wonderful drawing of a horse wearing a bonnet when your phone rings. You have specific ringtones for every person who calls you often enough, and you put your head in your hands when you hear this one. Nepeta notices, and watches you as you sigh and answer the phone.

“I’m busy enough,” you whine into the receiver.

“That’s a shame,” says the smooth, dark voice of Diamonds Droog. “And here I had something I thought you’d be interested in.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Meet me on the corner of 34th and Feldings,” he says.

“D--do I have to?” you say, clicking your pen. “Can’t you just, just tell me? On the phone? Like a normal person? I p-promise the line’s secure.”

“34th and Feldings,” he says again. “Now.”

He hangs up. You put your phone down, put your head on your desk, and groan loudly. Why is this your life? All you wanted to do today was transcribe audio logs and not interact with anybody. You even packed a lunch so you wouldn’t have to go out and talk to any fast food workers. 

Without your realizing it, Nepeta has picked up your phone and unlocked it. You make a mental note to change the passkey and not let her see you input it next time. “Diamonds Dickhead?” She makes an exaggeratedly surprised face, and puts your phone back on the desk. “Is that who I think it is?”

You stand up and fix your tie. “I have to go out.”

“Oh! Let me get my coat.”

“No.” You grab your own coat, put it on, and start buttoning it. You make a deliberate effort to put the buttons in the right holes, and you’re secretly glad you haven’t had much to drink yet today. “S--stay here and, and keep transcribing.”

“I’m paws-itively sure that’s super important,” she says, putting extra emphasis on her pun. You’ve noticed that she likes cat puns. In less infuriating circumstances, you’d think it was cute. “But I’m not here to help you so much as to watch you.”

You smooth your hair out and put your hat on. “That’s a terrible idea. N-no, you should just stay here, and not tell a soul I went out. U--unless I don’t come back. Then tell Sleuth. Understood?”

She grins a catlike grin and says, “Nope!”

Droog is never going to let you hear the end of this.

---

34th street is where his tailor is, so Diamonds Droog didn’t have to go out of his way to meet you. It is also clear on the other side of town relative to your office, so you had to go especially out of your way to meet him.

This is par for the course, and you make an effort not to look exhausted when you get there.

He’s waiting for you on a street bench outside his tailor’s, smoking one of his expensive cigarettes. You approach him, but don’t look at him directly. You stand behind the bench, facing away from him, pretending to read a bulletin board. Nepeta follows along, but she sneaks a few glances at Droog when she thinks you aren’t looking.

He breathes out a long puff of smoke before speaking. “Is the detective business so bad that you had to take up babysitting?”

“I n--needed the second job to, to support my tea habit,” you respond.

“That’s a funny way to say whiskey.”

“Oh, no. I steal that all from m-my boss. You see, he has a wealthy patron with a vested interest in, in keeping him too drunk to make good decisions.” You lean back onto the bench, crossing your arms. “I’m s-sure you don’t know anything about that.”

“I’m sure I don’t. Can she leave?”

“I don’t know.” You look down at Nepeta. “C-can you leave?”

“I can, yeah,” she says.

“A--are you going to?”

She shakes her head.

“Sorry,” you say to Droog. “It’s a, a long story.”

He pauses and takes another drag from his cigarette. He taps some ash out on the ground, then reaches into his jacket pocket. You have just enough time to hope that he isn’t pulling out a weapon with which to kill the witness you’ve brought along, before he pulls out a couple of photographs. He passes them to you. They all depict various old-looking artifacts. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen some of these in the museum.

“All of these have gone missing in the past month,” Droog explains. “Obvious signs of a break-in, but no evidence pointing to a culprit.”

“D--do you think Kingpin was involved?”

“Absolutely.”

You scrutinize the photos further, and notice that all the artifacts share a theme. Every one of them either depicts a horrorterror, or symbols associated with said terrors. “This, um. It looks like your sort of thing.”

“Hardly,” he says. “The four of us get our magic from the Terrors, but we don’t need trinkets like this to channel Their powers. They give it to us freely.” He illustrates this by producing a small purple flame in his hand. “Kingpin, though. He’s Prospitian, like you. He doesn’t have the connection to the Terrors that we Dersites have.”

You think about that as you pocket the photos. “Do you think he’s trying to make a pact with the Terrors?”

“Perhaps,” he says, extinguishing the flame. “It’s possible he’s seen what we can do and wants that power for himself. I doubt he’ll be successful.”

You wonder whether it would be possible for a Prospitian to make a pact with the dark gods. You’re almost tempted to let Kingpin try, just to get an answer. It’s not your best idea. If nothing else, these robberies give you one more thread you can follow in your attempts to get any charge at all to stick to him.

“I’ll look into this,” you tell him. “Call me if--if you hear anything.”

“As usual,” he says, before standing up.

He smooths out his suit, throws his cigarette to the ground and snubs it out with his heel. Without once looking at you, he strolls away. Nepeta waits until he’s out of earshot before she says, “You know, Mister Detective, you don’t act much like a detective.”

“H--how’s that?”

“All the wiretapping, and purr-tive meetings with shady guys,” she says. “You’re more like a spy.”

You let out a small laugh. “Don’t say that one to the others. They’ll start coming up with spy names for me.”

“Pickle Inspector’s okay for a spy name,” she says. You start walking, and she follows you. She has to trot a little to match your walking stride. “Spies don’t put ‘spy’ right in the name! It’s too conspicuous.”

You’re enjoying this flight of fancy, despite yourself. “I’ll need to imagine up some clever gadgets, to uh, to get me out of pinches.”

“And you’ll need a car,” she says. “A fancy one, that turns into a submeowrine.”

“And a, a dangerous love interest,” you add.

“Oh? You don’t have that already?” She grins up at you. “You and Diamonds Dickhead had an awful lot of chemistry. You aren’t caliginous?”

“What?” You shove your hands in your pockets and look towards the street. “No. Obviously not. Th-th-that’s just, just gross, ew.”

She giggles, and you don’t like the knowing look she gives you. You reach into your jacket, produce a flask, and take a long gulp. It doesn’t help your mood any. It just reminds you of the last time Droog caught you drinking in the middle of the day, and had the audacity to call you “pathetic”, as if lots of people don’t drink before noon on a weekday.

She’s still giving you that look. Fuck.

“A--anyway, the, the case,” you stutter, trying to get back on the subject of work.

“I know somebody,” she says. “That might help.”

“Who?”

She shrugs. “Old friend of mine. She knows all sorts of things about old stuff like what got stolen.”

“That would be, it’d be really useful,” you say.

“I’ll call her when she gets off work,” Nepeta says, adjusting her hat. “In the meantime we can get back to listening to your wiretaps. The part I was on was pretty juicy.”

You’re relieved she’s so easily given up the subject of Droog and gotten back to the task at hand. She might, despite your initial misgivings, be useful to have around.

“I’ve also started a shipping chart for everyone you’re surveilling,” she adds.

After she explains to you what a shipping chart is, you are simultaneously horrified, and intrigued at the new avenues this gives you when cataloguing and interpreting your data.

Chapter three.

> Be Ace Dick.

Once upon a time, you were a police detective. You like to give Sleuth shit over his lack of occupational experience, but he seems to think that his two weeks of police academy are all he could need. For someone who brags about his charisma, he really doesn’t understand the importance of making connections.

You haven’t been working on the Kingpin case with Sleuth and Pickles. You think they’re out of their league. Kingpin’s ruled this city since Sleuth and Pickles were still in grade school, they didn’t stand a chance. So while they ran around on their fool’s errand, you were out hitting the pavement, solving more sensible cases and keeping the agency afloat. Sergeant Pyrope was a rookie when you left the force, but she remembers you. Whenever you have a case that requires some APD know-how, you hit her up. There’s a little diner next door to the station that’s popular with the coppers, and that’s where she meets you to give you the low-down on some two-bit drug dealer who skipped out on a debt.

You buy her a second coffee once she’s said her piece and you’ve finished writing it all down. Then you tuck your notepad back into your coat pocket and say, “So I heard y’ gave Sleuth a job.”

She shrugs, grinning. “It should be worth a laugh. He always says he can do better than us, so let’s see it!”

You shake your head. “Here ‘m always tryin’ to tell him to stay off that case, and you’re just eggin’ him on.”

“So you’re not going to help?” she asks, before taking a sip of coffee.

“Hell no,” you say. “I quit the force to get away from that malarkey. You at least payin’ him?”

She laughs. “Do you think he’s going to ask?”

“He damn well will, because I’m goin’ to tell him to,” you say, jabbing a finger at her. She can’t see the gesture but she usually can tell that you’re doing one. You’re not sure if she hears the movement or somehow smells it. You don’t know how her weird sense of smell works. “We got rent to pay, missy. If he’s runnin’ around chasin’ Kingpin he isn’t doing other cases.”

“We’ll have to set up a collection,” she says. “I’ll put a little can in the break room. ‘Pay Mister Candy Corn’s rent’.”

Detective Vriska Serket walks over, whacking your hat off your head as she passes you to sit next to Terezi. “Can’t be too much, right? Doesn’t he live in a cardboard box?”

“That sounds right,” Terezi says. “But in this city that’s what, 500 bucks a month?”

“Depends on how new the box is, probably,” Vriska responds.

Terezi nods. “Either way, Kingpin owns it so it is absolutely drafty and leaks in the rain.”

“I’m not opposed to makin’ jabs at my dumbass not-boss,” you say as you straighten your hat out. “But I’m serious. You’re payin’ him. And Pickles too, if you got him involved.”

“We do,” Terezi says. “He’s got poor Nepeta bored to tears.”

“That’s a lie,” Vriska says, taking Terezi’s coffee and putting it in front of herself. “She started writing fanfiction about those counterfeiters on seventieth street. I’m going to try and convince her to submit it as evidence.”

“While that is hilarious, don’t. The Captain doesn’t need to know about any of this.” Terezi takes her coffee back and chugs down the remainder before Vriska can make another attempt. She coughs. 

“Now there’s an idea,” you say. “If you don’t pay up, I’ll go let Captain Peixes know what you’ve been up to.”

“Why Ace,” Terezi says, leaning forward. “Are you threatening me?”

“Might be.”

“Maybe if the Captain finds out she’ll get embarrassed enough to put me on the case,” Vriska says.

“Gettin’ tired of solvin’ murders?” you ask.

She throws her arms up in the air. “The only interesting crimes are the mob ones! All the regular crimes are just dumb shit, there’s usually a witness or a camera or something, there’s no challenge!”

“I thought you liked racking up wins,” Terezi said.

“I fucking love racking up wins,” Vriska says. “But I want ones worth my time. Kingpin’s the biggest baddie there is, I gotta get in on that.”

“Maybe you should let her follow Sleuth instead of that angry kid,” you say to Terezi.

She snickers. “No, I’d give her to Tootsie Roll Frankenstein.”

Vriska slaps the table. “You think you’re kidding around but I’d love having that guy work for me! He’ll do all the tedious boring shit so I have more time to pound pavement and beat in faces.”

“I’m glad you appreciate Pickles’ special sort of appeal.” You stand up, straightening out your suit. “Thanks for the tip, Pyrope. Now please stop takin’ advantage of my teammates.”

She salutes at you, and it’s dripping with irony. “No, I don’t think I will. You’re welcome to come get taken advantage of, though!”

“Fat chance,” you scoff, getting out your wallet. You pull out a few bills, enough to pay for your coffee and Terezi’s, and drop them on the table. “Take care of yourselves, ladies.”

“Tell Sleuth if he gets evicted I just got a washing machine and he might fit in the box if he gets on all fours!” Vriska calls as you leave the diner. You hear the two girls snickering behind you.

They laugh, but you know the APD’s pay is shit. You do much better for yourself working as a private dick. The lack of benefits are a kick in the nuts, but at least you don’t have to deal with all the paperwork and politics, and every now and then you got a client who paid you a ridiculous sum for some dumbass thing. Sleuth could do as well as you. He’s certainly got the sleuthing skills for it. He just keeps wasting his time worrying too much about justice and too little about the real world.

You figure he’ll learn eventually. Kids like him always do.

#problem sleuth #midnight crew #trollcops #mspa #homestuck #writing #fanfiction #unfinished

[after-lauhgter]

Hey dude, I really like your music taste so do all the music questions that you didn't already answer 🌚

OK DUDE HERE THEY COME (except 1,6 & 14) ... ok lets do number 1 again  What's a song you've been listening to a lot lately? as the world caves in by Matt Maltese, if I get high by nothing but thieves, and literally anything off waterparks’ new live album, that thing makes me feel so ALIVE bc like LIVE MUSIC  Is there an album you recently discovered and are obsessed with it now? well waterparks live in the uk obviously but if the last 6 months count as recently, then the new abnormal by the strokes. its... absolutely breathtaking. I don't have words. 0 words. except these dudes know what the fuck they’re doing. and then I found the devil and god are raging inside me by brand new and jeeesus. literally Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ was my most played song in 2020 AS IT SHOULD BE bc its EVERYTHING this album is THE SHIT. every song is just *chef kiss* like there's limousine (omg limousine) and you won't know and not the sun and AHH listen to these albums omg  Put your playlist on shuffle and show the first 10 songs. No cheating. i assume “your playlist” means all my saved songs so Topography by Civilian (pls go listen its SO great) Na Na Na by mcr yees issa classic  Du schreibst Geschichte by Madsen omg geeerman  just saying by EDEN (pretty pretty pretty) Westerland von den Ärzten another classic  letdown by nothing,nowhere. sad but the good kind of sad  The Man by the killers making fun of toxic masculinity gives me LIFE  Graffiti by CHVRCHES YES  and death stranding by CHVRCHES too YES SO GOOD simmer by Hayley Williams, a queen  How do you tend to discover new music? If you do at all of course I do enjoy what Spotify suggests, like my weekly mix brought a lot of bops in the past, although sometimes it just sucks lets be real. I also like the artist- or album-radio, when I wanna find something similar to an album but not the album.  and another thing I lovvve is when artists I like recommend music, for example, have you seen dallon weekes instagram stories? THE TASTE? bc yes, someone who writes music like that MUST have a superior taste in music and he fucking does. 

What app do you mostly use to listen to music? Spotify :) Is there an artist that you feel ashamed of listening too? I can't think of anyone so probably not  What is your favorite album cover art? omg. I have to go with more than one. so there's where the mind wants to go/where you let it go by I the mighty, one of my favorite albums of all time, and I'm going to say it how it is, I LIKE THE COLORS. the blue-ish imagine with the red omg. look at it pls.  Also fandom by waterparks looks SO COOL. again the COLORS  and I love the art for Isola by Kent.  I recently discovered you wouldn't believe what privilege costs by civilian and I think that cover is pretty cool too.  well and then there's petals for armor by Hayley Williams, the cover art is so fucking powerful Jesus I get goosebumps just thinking about it. in case you don't know about it, long story short: there's been a lot of shit going on in Hayleys life in the past. relatable imo. then they made after laughter and its been like u know what fuck it we’ll just laugh and dance through the pain. together. and I LOVED the vibe omg it gave me so much. but for Hayley it kinda postponed REALLY dealing with shit. she came home from touring with AL and she also got divorced during the AL era and everything's shit and out of all that came petals for armor. and in it she reclaims femininity, being alone, being powerful, being a women, everything. and ah yeah we were talking about the cover art, the cover is her, having a line of squares on her face, three of these squares are tattooed on her fingers though bc its where her ex husbands initials used to be that she got covered up. WHAT A MOVE. THE POWER.  (if anyone is interested in hearing Hayley talking about/explaining all this, I really recommend watching her interview with zane Lowe. its SO GOOD basically free therapy) How much did your parents influence your music taste? a. lot. my dad listened to a lot of “dad rock” you may call it, I guess a lot of dads listened to stuff similar to this. Deep Purple, the police, simple minds, Green Day, Billy Talent, the scorpions and things like that. what influenced me the most tho was the beatsteaks (german band, very good), die Ärzte (german band, very good) and LAST BUT NOT LEAST the fricking blues brothers. my favorite movie (not the 2000 remake, go watch that in hell where it belongs), a great, charismatic band, unbelievable live performances. very big WOW from me.  Do you own any vinyl? don't get me started omg. I DO. I wish I could take a photo but my records are at my parents house so ill just name my favorites.  -after laughter and brand new eyes by paramore -violent things by the brobecks and their song boring on 7inch (this is very rare ok) -razzzzmatazzz by idkhow in gold :) -may death never stop you by mcr (my first one, I bought it first and then bought a record player for it, that's how it started lol) -omg the black parade is dead by mcr, this was never available on vinyl until record store day 2019 (?) and I hunted that bitch like idek what it was insane but I found a super cute small record store and the owner didn't have copies of it bc NOBODY DID but he fucking CALLED THE LABEL even though it was way too late and he asked if they'd send him a copy and THEY DID I FUCKING OWE THIS MAN  -and omg Isola by Kent (in Swedish tho bc the English version was never pressed on vinyl) this was intense. I searched for like 2 weeks and then, on google results page 8 or something, I found what could've been the only copy on the damn internet and it was very expensive but its MINE NOW -my signed vertigo vinyl by EDEN, its clear and on side D it doesn't have music but a little message engraved it the vinyl IT IS CUTe -Placebos MTV unplugged! I am so I love with this album. SO. in love. and one day, when I was in Berlin to see palaye royale, back when we had concerts, I walked by a random record store and they have like 4 records left bc they were closing or idk and the only one displayed in the window was this one. tell me about FATE  Do you own any cds? not many. sometimes when im at the store and I see ones I know or like, I just buy them and put them in me moms car bc I want her to listen to them. or when I find a cd by a smaller artist I enjoy, I buy it just to push the nachfrage. HI i am HERE and I WANT this music  Is vinyl really better than listening on a digital device? im not gonna be that middle aged white male audiophile that hates on our generation for using Spotify. bc its great. I think its just different. I mean im sorry I don't carry my record player on the bus with me, pls forgive me for using my phone? having immediate access to most of the music that is out there? wow. what a concept. I love the internet. YES TECHNOLOGY. but. vinyls are... different. I feel likes its a different kind of listening. I feel like youre rly LISTENING. and that way isn't better, or right, and im not saying it works like this for everyone. but when I put a record on, my only activity at that moment is listening to music, I sit down and I listen. to the entire album. so skips and no pauses, bc that's how it works. and I think that sometimes, that can do a lot for you. if you let it.  and besides that, physically owning a record makes me happy on a level nothing else really does. fuck I love music so much and when I fall in love with it, I fall hard. and then owning a copy of it, something I can touch, something that is MINE, putting it in my little shelf, looking at it every few days and just being in love? fantastic feeling.  What is a genre of music that you tend to go to for comfort? sad shit. I feel like I can get great comfort from the sad shit. or maybe just slow shit. and songs that mean a lot to me and have been around me for some time, they have this other level of comfort. like for Emma, forever ago by bon iver for example. I have a playlist, maybe I'll reblog this again and link it ;) Do you tend to like poppy upbeat songs, or more intricate and interesting songs? both. sometimes I wanna have complicated stuff and analyze the shit out of lyrics and instrumentation, sometimes I just wanna v i b e If you have a favorite band or artist, tell us about how you got into them I liked paramore before but when they posted the video of them performing last hope at reading? it was over. when Hayley sang the bridge it was over. now im a die hard fan and I never looked back Is there a song that came out this year that you like? maybe after reading all this shit you expected a list but somehow I can't. where do u even start. but the answer is definitely yes.  THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING I COULD GO ON FOR DAYS 

#asks #music #i guess #not me putting I guess after my tags all the time #I like guessing #questioning everything is a lifestyle

[knoxhq]

► ( rudy pankow & cis male ) according to the school’s records, knox drury is a 22-YEAR-OLD senior studying political science, and he lives over in moriarty. he is a gemini, so that must be why others describe him as dignified, humorous, cowardly and naive. when i see him, i’m reminded of walking into class an hour late with sunglasses on, the feeling of anticipation as you wait for a firework to fully blossom, the sound of party music leaking through the walls of a bathroom. ( gibby, 20, they/them, est. ) ◄

hello everyone !! so i won’t even lie to u guys, i am NERVOUS and it’s literally only bc this is the first group i’ve joined in so long like dfdhkjsfjad the last group i was in was almost a year ago but i ended up having to leave due to personal reasons and didn’t get to write so like !!! idk i’m excited !! anyways w that in mind, pls bARE with me bc i have like one (1) braincell and i forgot how to write intros. anyways enough of me rambling, lemme give you knox !!

also this is a bad intro pls dont judge me im trying 2 like. rewrite what i had b4 the storm took it out n like, i lost the braincell

basics. 

full name: knox hale drury.

nicknames: drury.

age: twenty two.

gender and pronouns: cis male and he/him

sexual & romantic orientations: bisexual, biromantic, femme leaning.

major: political science.

housing: moriarty.

backstory.

triggers: implied bullying, police and incarceration ( dw i didn’t make him jj 2.0 ).

nobody gets to pick their beginnings. it’s something that people tell knox all the time, hell, it’s plastered in every stupid coming of age movie, book, film, everything he’s ever seen. you don’t pick who your born into, you don’t pick who you get to be. and to an extent, he does think that this is true but he can’t help but wonder if maybe, if people could pick, if they’d pick differently. because he knows he certainly would pick differently.

it’s not that he even came from a bad home - hell no, he had the most loving family ever. his mother was a saint, a warm sensation bubbling up in his chest when he thinks about her warm cookies or the way she tried to still tuck him in even as a teenager. his father had his flaws, we all do, but he was a good and honest man. hardworking, he showed knox what that stupid american dream is that everyone likes to preach about. 

no, it had nothing to do with them but rather the overall opinion on him and his family. see, the drury’s weren’t well liked - they were seen as lowlives and as shady, the kind of people who you’d only go to if you wanted to get stabbed in the back. generations of drury’s fit this narrative but no, his father was determined to change that. and so was he, even if nobody around him seemed to want to give him a chance. 

knox would go throughout school with this name attached to him like a dagger to his throat - whisperings in the hallway of, “oh, my mom said the drury boy might be steal things if you let him over,” and other random, rude remarks. of course, the people that get close to him know better - they see him for who he really is.

that person is knox. he’s a golden light, often more selfless than the rich pricks who run that small town. he’d give his jacket or umbrella to people even if they didn’t ask if it just so happened to be raining outside, and despite the fact that his family didn’t have a lot, he’d still go out of his way to try to give when he could. 

he eventually graduated high school - one of the top people in his class due to his father’s encouragement, and after a lot of debate, settled on attending haddon university - miles away from that sweet, small little hometown he knew, but a fresh start where he didn’t have to work for anything. he could just go in being him, with nobody attaching a new narrative to him. it was what he wanted, what he dreamed of.

and he loved it. his first semester there was memorable as he found himself surrounded by new friends and people he even considered family. back home, however, things were slipping.

the drury family was never rich, ever by any means, but business was low. nobody wanted to go there, fearing that his father was just as shady as his grandfather. as things got worse, his father had to resort to other needs - stealing, lying about taxes, and doing everything he could to try to make it by. 

it finally caught up to him when knox came home for spring break - red and blue lights flashing outside as loud noises went on throughout the house, until finally someone swung knox’s door open and briefly blinded him with a flashlight, demanding to know where his father was. by the time knox got a grasp on the situation, his father was being rushed off in the back of a cop car. 

he plead guilty almost immediately and for the next few months, knox did school from home to stay with his mother. it was then that he switched his major from what had initially been just a vague, business degree to political science in hopes of going into law after getting that degree - a way of changing things, of helping people so they never got to that point. 

for now though, he’s gone back to haddon’s campus where he study’s away and occasionally finds himself slipping and partying, glasses always covering his eyes as he slinks back class, getting almost nO sleep every night.

study.

so i need u to know right now... knox is baby, FDSHJDFSHAJK

like he’s not by any means like he’s kinda a gross dude like, absolutely randomly burps n is like lol oops n shit, very little manners, will grab clothes off of the floor to put them on kind of man BUT LIKE as a whole ?? he means very well FDSJFAHJ he’s very gentle and will sit there and admire flowers on a bush and then get mad if u pick one bc ur hurting it like. he’s baby.

he also is very loyal to the ppl he’s friends w tbh like. damn he will never leave ur side

that also makes him kinda... super, actually, naive. you see, while knox is incredibly loyal, he often finds himself ignoring signs of toxicity for the sake of preserving a friendship - he fights for people who won’t fight for him, he lets people back in too easily, he just. he sees the good in everyone, even if there isn’t any good.

regardless, he’s not easy to just... manipulate to an extent. while he’ll fall for you being innocent, you can’t ever try to make him think he’s something he’s not - he knows his intentions and he knows they’re usually pure and he’s not gonna fold for anyone if it comes down to him or them. 

bt like again he’s baby

like i dont think he ever gets mad but damn when he does its probs scary as shit like bc he nEVER gets mad !!! hes like. a golden retriever ig

if u cannot tell im trying really hard not to make him too much like jj bc i realize that might be a big thing ppl do n i dont think jj is baby bt like. knox? knox is baby DSFHJKFDHKJ 

he’s just. idk. he’s very protective and cares about his friends a lot and will walk you home even if you went to HIS place and like is always ready to give you a jacket if it’s raining and he’s just lowkey a big, kinda dumb at times, teddy bear and i think that’s valid tyvm 

wanted connections.

friends. — please. knox will lOVE ur muses just let him be their friend tyvm plus he’s a bit of a social butterfly now and i think he’d honestly have a lot of friends.

best friend. — i’m gonna keep this to one muse bc idk i think it’d be really cute if knox got to have his own like, ride or die where they care abt him as much as he cares about them and they’re always there for each other and like !!! that’s cute !!! also found family trope bc i think that is.. again, kyoot, ty

frienemies. — so these are always like, super fun to plot out and i think there’s a lot to work w here... like give me ppl who are happy that knox is loyal and would defend them but would push knox to the side n not do the same for him... also friendships where knox fucked up ?? where knox, despite his goodness, couldn’t keep his mouth shut and revealed a secret to their friend group bc u see he can kinda be a gossip fsjfdaskj. idk there’s a lot u can do n i’d love to brainstorm!

enemies. — pls. like. we can brainstorm this too so i dont just ramble but pLEASE?? please.

flings. — honestly romantic ships are not the point of rps but romantic flings and stuff can be really fun to plot and i love getting soft about them so like ?? idk dude lets fling it up n have muses date for two weeks n then break up like thats swexi, dramatic, 10/10

exes. — i mean this is kind of like flings but i have an idea... give me an ex of knox’s who really was like. everything knox wanted. hell, the two had a really good relationship - they were in love and etc etc gushy details but they ended up breaking up bc they just. they weren’t meant to be! as sad as it is like it was as simple as that! and then the angst comes in after they break up bc god they still love each other so much but they just aren’t meant to be and they see them with other people and oh it just hurts but like, bonus points if they manage to become good friends even after this !! (sidenote, idk i wouldn’t want this to be a full ship tht gets back together bc idk i think there’s a bittersweetness in stuff like this n its just. like. its ok !!! idk !!! )

roommates. — and they were roomates- fdshjkfdsahjk

other things. — honestly these are half assed plots but i’m down for anything !!! i’m still fleshing out knox a lil too bc i really did make him on the spot so pls bare w me :)

#had:intro #bullying tw #police tw #arrest tw #incarceration tw #again i did nOT make him jj dont worry dfsahjfd #also this intro is bad pls do not look at me #alcohol mention

[marsbaumer]

hello !! the name is cal, pronouns they/them, and i’m in the est timezone. i’m so very excited to bring my kiddo mars to the deja brew !! listed below is going to be some information on the little mess. at the very bottom i’ve listed some possible connections as well that i think would be neat to explore. if you would like to plot feel free to like this and i’ll come to your ims or let me know if you’d prefer to plot over discord. i am very excited and look forward to writing with you all uwu

basics

name: mars baumer job: baker at deja brew & podcast host age: twenty-three gender: nonbinary pronouns: she/they sexuality: bisexual / biromantic birthday: april 2nd zodiac: aries personality type: the entertainer | esfp pinterest board: click here

regular order

large black coffee with a shot of caramel & whipped cream on top

aesthetics

listening to conspiracy podcasts in a deadbeat car in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night

the wafting smell of freshly made blueberry muffins and pockets of sunshine that warm your skin

 skinned knees covered by alien themed band-aids

theme song: boy bye by brockhampton

ring in their ears like a bark always feel left in the dark trauma the price for the patience character shift like an arc move like my shit stay in park don't feel the love or respect grip like a hand on my neck this is the year, place your bets (boy, bye)

positive & negative

brash ( adj ) : self-assertive in a rude, noisy, or overbearing way.

sagacious ( adj ) : having or showing keen mental discernment and good judgment; shrewd.

planetary commentary: updates every thursday @ 3:33am

planetary commentary is a podcast that focuses on all sorts of topics though they primarily tend to center around conspiracy theories, murder mysteries, missing people cases, space, lgbtqa+ subjects, and the occasional book or movie reviews. it could be seen as a bit of a messy podcast, however, it has gained quite the following over the year and a half its been available. ( first premiered may 1st, 2017 )

the chronicles of unknowing: updates every sunday @ 3:33am

a sci-fi, fantasy podcast centered around a boy as he journeys through a strange and mysterious land. he could not recall his name nor how he ended up in such an empty place. he simply woke up one day in a empty house where faceless photos presented themselves on dusty walls. how will he deal with the loneliness this empty town envokes and how will he choose to proceed when there is no clear direction? join the nameless boy as he logs his journey via tape recorder. ( first premiered october 1st, 2019 )

then

mars was born to their mother in the early hours of april second after tiring hours of labour. her mother, anastasia baumer, was over the moon to have her child in her arms after nine long months. it was a lonely celebration, though. no one was there to congratulate her or see her beautiful baby. no, instead, she welcomed mars into the world with just herself as family.

being a working single mother was tough, the money that anastasia’s parents had left her helped in mars’ younger years before they were old enough to go into daycare. things were bound to get more difficult as life went on as the finances were harder to keep up with, especially rent which only increased over the years. still, the child and mother duo were happy and lived life to its fullest. sure, mars couldn’t join any extracurricular sports, but they enjoyed writing and helping their mother with cooking/baking.

of course, life just couldn’t sort itself out for them. no matter how much anastasia gave, the world only took and took and took. it only made sense for the world’s greed to fall on mars as well. on their twelfth birthday, their mother made a choice to go out in the rain to pick up their birthday cake. she never made it home. mars waited up all night until the police came knocking to deliver the news.

( death tw ) a hit and run. she was left to die in the rain alone. that was probably the worst part. the fact that life couldn’t be gentle with her even til the end. mars wanted the hard truth. what was their mother’s last moments like? who left her to die? why would they do such a thing? there were so many questions they had and the police, with much hesitance, answered to the best of their abilities. their mother’s best friend met them at the station. she attempted to stay strong, however even in her righteous anger, tears swept her cheeks. it was a long month that followed.

left alone, mars was placed in foster care. the system was incredibly difficult to move through. they ended up being incredibly difficult to handle between poorly adjusting in school and slipping out of the houses. it took two years of swapping between three foster homes before they found the knox household. the knox’s consisted of cillian and avery knox as well as their son isak. it was a somewhat strange ensemble that mars joined. isak was cillian’s son from a previous marriage before he’d met avery and fell harder than ever before. it was...cute. they gave them space and isak was different from the other kids they ended up staying with previously. for starters, he was only a year younger than them. he complimented their vibe the first time they met and then asked what they thought about aliens. needless to say, their introduction into the knox’s dynamic and to each of them personally was a welcomed change.

fourteen years old, mars finally found a place they could settle down in and mourn their mother while attempting to settle. it was nice, living with avery- living with another person of colour, who encouraged their desire to explore different styles and, later on, pronouns when they started to question their gender. the support of cillian and isak as well encourage their unique interests and desire to learn about their self. the family helped them in ways they could never pay back. 

( cancer tw, death tw ) life never failed to come back to ruin them. they had at least six years of blissful peace before isak began to get sick. it was a terrible time and took a while to catch on to. yet, the diagnosis wasn’t promising. cancer never was. isak held out a while against the leukemia that made him sick. almost a year, in fact, before he ended up passing. the devastation they felt was an echo of the past as they lost their best friend and brother. 

now

two years later found mars living outside the knox household and in a two bedroom apartment with someone they found on craig’s list or something. they liked to introduce them and tell tales about how they ended up rooming together, even going as far as claiming they found them on the side of the road. 

mars has been working at the deja brew for about two years now. after dropping out of school for when isak was sick, they decided not to return. their fathers were disgruntled, but allowed it. after all, they were there on scholarship anyways. they had expected them to return, however, mars has yet to show any interest in continuing their program.

mars can come across as a very detached individual, however, they are in actuality very passionate. get them speaking about something they have an interest in and they seem to do a complete 180 in personality as they talk. 

they enjoy experimenting in the kitchen, whether it be baking or cooking. occasionally, they’ll have their co-workers and some customers try one of their end products to get a gauge on how it turned out. unfortunately, they’re not always good. most of the time they’re stomach-able, though, so that’s good.

they just began a new podcast titled the chronicles of unknowing. they haven’t told anyone, but the main character is based off of their brother. they wanted to remember him and transform their grief into something that could possible help others but also potentially allow for isak to still touch peoples lives.

they publish the podcasts under the pseudonym mercury as they believe it takes the whole act of them creating away from their self and focuses things on the actual content they put out.

#hqbrew:intro #| gonna message folks back now !! #| also please ignore any grammar or spelling errors in here aaaaa

[sashasduke]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀.

╰☆╮ YANDEH SALLAH , 19 , CISFEMALE , SHE/HER ☆ — wait , is that SASHA ‘SAS’ DUKE ? dean lockwood has been looking for them . you didn’t hear it from me but , apparently the SOPHOMORE might know something about the whole omega chi & kappa tau situation . while they can be PESSIMISTIC & IMPULSIVE , they’re far too PROTECTIVE & CREATIVE to be involved , right ? those who know them say they’re reminded of GOLD NAMEPLATE NECKLACES, PLACING FIRST AT THE SCIENCE FAIR, TELLING NEIGHBORHOOD KIDS THE HOUSE ON THE CORNER IS HAUNTED, AND TUNING OUT THE MISOGYNY OF 90S HIP-HOP . honestly , the FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY major should try to keep their head down . after the events of last semester , lockwood is out for blood . did you know that SAS is a member of GAMMA RHO ALPHA & HOLLINGSWORTH ATHLETICS ? that might explain why their name is being brought up . ☆ XIOMARA (XIO), 24 , SHE & HER , & EST ╰☆╮

hi lovebugs !!  im about to keep this intro short & sweet . i’m xiomara aka xio and this is sasha ( i also have ramses ). very happy to be here with all you beautiful people and your beautiful characters !! can’t wait to write with you and just chat tbh . you can message me whenever . i have a connections page here  ( its empty lets fix that as a family ) and if you read this mess ily .  ( tw death . tw murder ~ not detailed AT ALL . literally a footnote . ) & i believe that’s the only triggers . if you enjoyed this intro like & subscribe 🥰

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 ―

name: sasha duke

hometown: brooklyn , new york

ethnicity: trinidadian ( mom ) , african american ( dad )

parents: inga & ralph duke

siblings: sean duke ( deceased )

age: 19

gender: cisfemale ( she / her )

sexuality: straight ( … but if she kisses a girl and likes it well then )

zodiac: aquarius

year of study: sophomore

major: forensic psychology

minor: natural science

extra-curriculars: gamma rho alpha , pitcher on hollingsworth softball team , employee at boom & busters

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ―

sasha wasn’t always a closet pessimist . once upon a time she believed in the tooth fairy and justice and that if you drank your milk you’d grow up big and strong

but , as we know , the tooth fairy was just a demon that collected teeth . and she drank milk until it poured out of her ears only to peak at 5 foot 5 . and the justice system failed the duke’s …. miserably ( more on that later )

raised by a science teacher & a wedding planner in a middle class neighborhood in brooklyn , she was one of two children . a spunky kid with guts and charm , sasha was a picture perfect child … but also v erica sinclair-y

she won science fairs all over brooklyn and entered every contest known to man . sasha even tried to break a guinness world record

unfortunately some of that tenacity left the day sean was murdered

no one knows exactly what happened that night , but the family has some ideas . the case was never solved and went cold after a year , but in the pit of her stomach , sasha knows the police department didn’t do their due diligence .

it seemed like everyone else tried to move on with their lives except for sas

enter her interest in forensics and psychology and all things crime solving !!

sasha has a pretty bleak outlook on life since the death of her brother , but she’s fascinated with , and maybe a little piece of her believes she’ll be able to solve her brother’s murder one day , solving crimes and all the science that goes into it

legit watches true crime shows all day . give her all the buzz-feed unsolved , give her all the i.d channel shows , give her snapped 

her parents sent her to grief counseling , but sas believes she’s perfectly fine . she just knows everything and everyone is bullshit . this mentality put a wedge between her and her parents though. they think she’s troubled , she thinks they’re full of it

she kinda floated through high school & her teachers just had to understand because she never failed a class and they let her do a ton of makeup work , but she’s also v bright & excelled in science

her dad played in the minors before becoming a teacher so sports came pretty naturally to her . her fastball caps out at 92 mph and she’s a star player

between her grades and athletic prowess hollingsworth was a no brainer

she joined a sorority for a sense of sisterhood . plus she wasn’t getting that from home anymore

regardless of her pessimism (it boarders nihilism …. yikes !!) sasha is cool to be around . she has pretty dark humor sometimes , and she can be impulsive to the point of recklessness , but she’s a fiercely protective friend and creative problem solver .

she works @ boom & busters so she has a nerf gun at all times . beware 

sas is the person you want in your corner . will legit fight for you

v bright , clever , has heaps of common sense and book smart too . but not in your face with it . she doesn’t need to be the smartest person in the room . also queen of random snapple facts

hard on the outside soft on the inside . please someone crack her open , she has nothing but love to give  

loves a good party . loves to forget about the troubles plaguing society 

can be quiet , kinda mysterious  BUT her friends know otherwise 

not big on emotions

dont ask for dating advice will tell you to dump their ass 

𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 !!

roommates ( come on gamma theydies ) , GIVE US A DIVERSE CLIQUE , softball teammates or just sport friends ( the person she sits next to during away games ) , crushes , study buddies , hookups , ... exes ... IM DOWN FOR ANYTHING 🥰 this is kinda brief BC the possibilities are endless ... anyway THANK U FOR READING THIS XOXO 

#hworth:intro #meet sasha

[hollowedsammy]

Hello, hello, everyone! My name is Susie, I am 21-soon-to-be-22, I live in the EST timezone, and this is the first of my two characters, Sam! If you’d like to plot, like this or IM me! This contains his basic info, backstory, info about what he’s currently up to, some misc. information, a small playlist, tropes that apply to him, and wanted connections. Yeah... I went a little hard.

☾  ↪  cillian murphy, male, forty, he/him.  ／  ❛  have you heard from samuel marx lately ？ yeah, the forty year old mechanic / drug dealer. pretty sure they’ve been here twenty years, and from what i’ve heard, sam can be kind of cynical  &  self-serving, but i caught them on a good day once, and they were pretty funny & clever. i’m probably overthinking it, but given all the crazy shit around here, i hope they’re okay. maybe they’re watching their favorite scary movie, i heard it’s child’s play.

trigger warnings: homophobia, parental/domestic abuse, self-harm, depression

BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Samuel Joseph Marx

Nickname(s): Sam (everyone), Sammy (his mother, close friends, or significant others only)

Age: 40

Gender: male

Sexual orientation: bisexual

Birthday: January 12, 1956

Zodiac: Capricorn

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Personality type: ISFJ

Family: Joseph Marx (father, deceased), Serafine Marx (mother, deceased)

Criminal record: shoplifting (3 counts), underage drinking (2 counts), auto theft (1 count), fraud (2 counts), possession with the intent to distribute (2 counts)

TROPES

Beware the Quiet Ones

Cornered Rattlesnake

The Cynic

Deadpan Snarker

Don’t You Dare Pity Me!

Even Bad Men Love Their Mamas

I Just Want to be Loved

I Need a Freaking Drink

Lower-Class Lout

Not Good With People

Perpetual Frowner

The Runaway

Smarter Than You Look

The Snark Knight

Sour Outside, Sad Inside

When He Smiles

FIVE-SONG PLAYLIST

“The Mute” by Radical Face

“Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage the Elephant

“Run Boy Run” by Woodkid

“The Kids Aren’t Alright” by Fall Out Boy

“Emperor’s New Clothes” by Panic! at the Disco

BACKGROUND

Sam was born and raised in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He had a small family -- just him, and his parents. His father was a police officer, and his mother was a housewife.

Sam never got along with his father. Never. He can’t remember a single time that he didn’t entirely despise the man.

Joseph Marx was a corrupt cop, as well as an abusive husband and father. The Marx household was frequently filled with the sounds of slamming doors, screamed profanity, and glass breaking. While he frequently took his anger out on his wife, Sam quickly became Joseph’s favorite target.

Sam was also a favored target of other kids. An incident during which two older boys held him under the water instilled an unshakable case of hydrophobia in him, and he was often beat up when teachers weren’t around. Many said he brought it on himself -- what did he expect, when he was so obviously queer, dressed in such ratty clothes, acted so strangely?

Unsurprisingly, he developed delinquent behavior early on, and was frequently in trouble for cheating on tests, stealing other students’ possessions, skipping class, smoking, drinking, and stealing cars for joyrides.

Bullied at school and abused at home, Sam had few friends, and spent as much time as possible out of the house. He’d wander the swamps and streets alone, only occasionally having a companion with him.

Finally, when he was sixteen, Sam hit a breaking point. A terrible fight with his father led to Sam being thrown into the kitchen window. The glass shattered, cutting into Sam’s skin. His mother tried to help him get cleaned up, but Sam had had enough. That very night, he packed a small bag and snuck out the back door. He stole a truck from one of his neighbors, and hit the road, never to return to Baton Rouge.

Lacking any sort of plan, Sam wandered from town to town, making money via odd jobs, shoplifting, pickpocketing, purse-snatching, and selling dime bags of weed. He had his fair share of scrapes with the law -- even spending six months in a correctional facility when he was eighteen -- but always managed to worm his way out any long-term consequences. 

While in jail, Sam finally wrote to his mother -- now that he was eighteen, he couldn’t be forced to return to his family’s home, so he could assure her that he was alive. While he kept in contact with his mother from then on, Sam never spoke to his father again, and refused to ever return to Baton Rouge, even after his father was shot and killed in the line of duty.

ARRIVAL IN HOLLOWAY

Sam got to Holloway at the age of twenty. He only intended to stay for a couple weeks, long enough to make enough money to make a cross-country trip. The girl he was dating at the time went to school in Maine, and he wanted to go visit her.

When the first Hollow Man murder happened, a couple weeks after Sam’s arrival, he was nervous. When it became evident that there was a serial killer in Holloway, he started thinking maybe he should just say “fuck the money” and skip town altogether. However, before he could, the police were asking to talk to him.

It had been discovered that a couple of the deceased had bought drugs off of Sam a few times. While they hadn’t thought much about Sam at first, this caused the cops to look closer at him. Upon further digging, the investigators found that Sam was a drifter who had dropped out of school and run away from home, had a history of behavior issues, an ever-growing rap sheet, a brief stint in jail to his name, a skittish and antisocial air about him, and an obvious hatred of cops.

Yeah. It did not look good.

Sam was interrogated many times. His story never changed. He did sell weed to two of the deceased. No, he didn’t hurt them. He never even interacted with them beyond the sales. He was asleep at the time of the murders. No, no one can confirm that, he was alone. No, he doesn’t have a hotel room, he’s been sleeping in his truck.

Despite a lack of solid evidence or a motive, Sam was still a prime suspect for the first few murders, and he was told not to leave town. Knowing it’d look much worse if he ran, Sam decided to get a job -- partially because he was stuck in Halloway for the foreseeable future, and partially because he knew he might have to hire a lawyer soon. He eventually persuaded the local auto shop to hire him as a mechanic. (Accused of murder or not, Sam is damn good with cars.)

No official charges were ever brought, and eventually, another murder took place while Sam had a clear alibi, having been drinking in a local bar in full view of at least a dozen people all night. He got busted for having a fake ID, but at least he wasn’t an official murder suspect anymore.

Key word being official. Some suspected that Sam had an accomplice, and that the whole thing was a set-up to clear his name. Despite rumors, whispers, stares, and even a few people accusing him of the crime to his face, he always maintained that he never hurt anybody.

After being cleared, Sam intended to get out of town as soon as he could. But then, the girlfriend in Maine he’d been planning to go see dumped him... via postcard. It was the cherry on top of what had been a shitty few weeks.

Sam decided to stay for a little while until he figured out where to go next. He was rather enjoying having a steady paycheck for once, and it wasn’t like he had a plan. “A little while” eventually turned to twenty years.

NOWADAYS

Sam has now lived in a half-double in town for many, many years. It’s small, but he makes it work.

While most have probably abandoned the idea that Sam killed anybody, he’s still not exactly Mr. Popular in town. He’s known to be a sarcastic, self-centered dick, who has no respect for authority. (Some things never change.)

He still works at the auto shop. The original owner’s son runs it now, but Sam is the longest-standing employee, as well as the best mechanic.

Sam still hates cops. If he could refuse service to them, he would.

He’s still selling weed on the side (his boss looks the other way -- so long as Sam doesn’t get busted while at work, he doesn’t really care), and can be bribed into purchasing alcohol for underage students. However, he refuses to get mixed up in anything harder than that.

He mostly keeps to himself, and isn’t known to be particularly violent. If someone else attacks him, he’ll defend himself, but he rarely throws the first punch.

He’s been in an even more melancholy mood than normal lately, because his mother died last month.

He honestly thought the Hollow Man business was behind him. But now that a new victim has been found, he can feel people looking at him sideways again.

And, no matter how much he says he doesn’t care what other people think... he doesn’t like it at all.

MISC.

Sam’s sexuality is not public knowledge. He’s not ashamed of it, but he also wants to avoid harassment, so he’s only ever openly dated women. The only people who know are men he’s been with in the past, and maybe, maybe a very close friend.

Despite his dislike of people, Sam is quite fond of animals, and even adopted a stray cat he found a couple years ago. He’s named him Hecate, and he is quite possibly the ugliest cat in existence -- he has one eye, crooked fangs, and scratches everything that isn’t Sam.

Sam suffers clinical depression, but is in denial about how serious it actually is. It’s driven him to make some pretty damaging decisions, and he’s had a habit of burning himself with cigarettes since high school. The scars are all over his shoulders, arms, and stomach. 

Sam was -- and still is -- a frequent target of classism. Due to his lack of education and working-class background, many assume the worst in him, and many underestimate his intelligence. While he uses it to his advantage, he is irked by it.

It surprises people to learn that Sam is actually very well-read, and a talented actor. In another life, he could’ve joined a Shakespeare company. In this one, he reads passages aloud to himself when he’s alone.

Sam claims to hate... well, everyone, but he holds a special contempt for bullies and abusers. One of the only times Sam’s been known to instigate a fight is when he got sick of listening to a drunk guy catcall a woman walking by, and just decked him.

Sam still hates water, and refuses to go swimming -- on the rare occasions he has to go near the water, he won’t put his head under.

Sam has a pitch-black sense of humor. The Hollow Man murders are one of the few things he won’t joke about.

SUGGESTED CONNECTIONS

Someone who still believes Sam was or is the Hollow Man.

Related to the above, some of the younger characters have probably been told by their parents to stay away from Sam. Whether or not they listened is up to you.

Friend with benefits.

Exes.

Someone who has become aware of Sam’s depression and is trying to help him -- whether he likes it or not.

Unrequited crush (from either party).

And anything else you can think of!

#hollowfm.intro

[parvinasseaynk72insurance-blog]

Lexus NX Cheap Insurance

Lexus NX Cheap Insurance

Lexus NX Cheap Insurance

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare free quotes :COVERAGEFINDER.NET

SOURCES:

Lexus NX Cheap Insurance

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