#but I regret to inform you that if you turn to the index of my life

[aroguexenolith]

I am not fervent enough for fandom discords, but I do have strong opinions on cotton sheets and leather care and easy but really yummy meals to make. So, uh, is there a discord somewhere for millennials doing boring adult stuff where we can talk about 401k rollovers and if they have a specific brand of mattress pad they like?

#those are my people #wherever they may be #maybe someday we will find each other #I guess for a lot of people the obvious answer is ‘this is literally just your friend group’ #but I regret to inform you that if you turn to the index of my life #and go to the f section and look carefully until you find the entry for #friend group - members of #or friend group -year established #and other stuff of that ilk #you will find nothing there! #my friend groups were ephemeral at best! #and anyway I don’t like my mattress pad very much and need opinions other than Wirecutter

[mountymase]

ISSUES - PART ONE

pairing: doctor!reader x mason mount  starring: mason mount, ben chilwell, chelsea fc players mentioned, england nt players mentioned, natalie chilwell (original character) summary: you and your fist meet mason mount tw: this chapter contains mason being an asshole, mentions of alcohol, blood and physical violence. author: this is a work of fiction and my previous work, ‘I did something bad’, newest version & turned into a series

A party to celebrate your graduation from med school sounded lovely at first. When Ben, your childhood and best of all friends, suggested and offered his house as the location, you did feel the excitement at the idea of having an informal and rather wild celebration. Because you knew, Natalie (his sister and also your best friend) knew and probably Ben knew too that your people were nothing but savages when it was about partying for the simple reason you rarely had the chance of doing it, considering you were always studying and on such tight schedule, even for your families.

“Ok, so we have around 50 people coming over? Is that a safe number?” Nat asked as you walked into the kitchen, finding Ben organising some reusable cups over the counter, that was completely taken by bottles of beer and other drinks.

“Ohh, Benny went shopping!” You teased, making him giggle. “50 is a safe number but having the booze on the counter isn’t, we all know people are going to use it to dance once the alcohol kicks in.”

“I’m horrified.” Ben admitted, but not having any sort of regret offering his place.

“You’re so not! I bet you’re excited for your first uni party, even if it’s a goodbye one.” His sister said, poking him on his ribs. 

“Not just me,” Ben mumbled. “The boys are quite excited too.”

The boys.

Of course he’d invite his friends, the footballers. And you couldn’t oppose yourself to it as it was his house, but that wasn’t really Ben’s greatest idea. Not that he usually had many, though. Ben noticed your little eye roll, knowing that although you were one of the greatest fans of the sport, you weren’t much of the players. Except him, of course.

“I promise they’ll behave, bubbles.” He called you by the sweet nickname he had for you since you were kids, hitting you right on your softest spot.

Truth was that Ben was the love of your life and not in a romantic way. He was your ride or die, your person, even if you were now much closer to Natalie and shared a lot more with her — especially because you spent years together sharing the same dream of becoming doctors. Those two were the siblings you never had and you were really so grateful for them. Your grandfather had been lifetime friends with theirs, having even played on the same football team when they were young and the Chilwells were a constant presence at your grandparent’s place, which became your place too when your grandmother stepped in to raise you and you moved at the age of 5.

“They better!” You replied, pointing him your index finger. “But do replace the booze, please. I’d like to have free space for my performance later tonight.”

Natalie chuckled, knowing that you + alcohol + loud music were the perfect match for a full dance/singing performance. “Let’s hope you’ll keep your clothes on this time, Y/n!” She teased, making Ben frown, knowing he was completely unaware of exactly how things went at those parties.

The rest of the day went smoothly. You three watched a film and had pizza for lunch which pleased you a lot — Ben being off season and sort of being able to have a trash day made the menu choice much easier. A post lunch power nap happened too, and even if you definitely were a party girl, if those two decided to cancel it and just do nothing for the rest of the evening, you’d enjoy it just as much. It was about company.

Ben placed a kiss on yours and his sister’s forehead before you two went upstairs to start getting ready for the party, and although you had your own bedroom at his place, you and Natalie were together at her’s as you both tried to sort out an outfit that’d be comfortable and pretty. It was June, early summer but already quite hot, so you two have decided to stick to the party’s “theme”, suggested by Ben. “A Midnight’s Summer Dream, to please the intellectuals,” he said.

“Dress, no bra?” Nat raised an eyebrow at your choice for a white crochet dress.

“To guarantee I won’t end up only in my underwear.” You winked, making her giggle. “So…” you started, watching your best friend doing her makeup, through both of your reflexes in the mirror. “The boys are coming.”

“A few of his Chelsea mates,” Nat started, knowing you sort of wanted a list of who was coming. “Two or three from England’s NT too.” Of course you had been to a bunch of Chelsea’s games, but socialising with footballers wasn’t your top choice of fun. “Don’t bother, really. They’re all very nice.” You just shrugged, back to perfectly painting your lips crimson red. Natalie watched you with a soft yet cheeky smile. “Killer queen, gonna have the ballers at your feet tonight.”

“Ew, Natalie, for real!” You faked a gag and Nat bursted into a loud laugh. “I rather have my lips permanently glued than making out with any of them.”

“That’s harsh. Ben said once a few of them always talk about you, although he explicitly said you and I are forbidden territory.”

“Territory?” You repeated her last word, ignoring all the rest.” What the fuck does Benjamin thinks we are, anyway?” 

“Y/n… come on!” Nat sighed. “Don’t make such a fuss about it. I’m sure they’ll stay in the backyard just having their drinks and boy shitting.”

“Fine. I’m sorry!” You rolled your eyes at her, finishing your makeup and throwing yourself on her queen size bed, on your stomach, so it wouldn’t mess your ponytail. 

It was their behaviour that bothered you, to be honest. Even Ben’s, sometimes, from what Natalie usually shared — sort of like he was a whole different person when out partying with his mates. Fuck boys. 

You could hear all the chattering downstairs, even with the loud music playing. From Natalie’s window, you could also have a partial view of the backyard where Ben was chatting and laughing with some guys, some people from Cambridge near them. Those ballers could be a bunch of playboys but they were so hot you found yourself rubbing your thighs.

When Natalie finally finished her hair, you both went downstairs and found so many friendly and familiar faces that if you had anything troubling you before, it meant nothing now. 

Before you noticed, the house was crowded and you found yourself in need of some fresh air so you went to the backyard, your hips moving perfectly to the sound of every beat and you had the brightest smile on your lips. “Oi, Y/n!” Your little moment was interrupted by a cheerful Ben waving at you. “Be a nice girl and come here and say hi!”

No, you wanted to say. But Ben was so nice, how could you say no to him? A bit tipsy, you made your way to him and his mates, a few prying eyes watching your moves. They were all around a round table with enough booze to invite more thousands people if he wanted. You spotted a bottle of whisky and narrow your eyes at it. “Is that my whisky?” You reached out for a refill, and finally set eyes on Ben’s mates. You were the absolute worst at socialising with new people, so you just raised your glass, giggling as you watched them mimicking you. 

Ben introduced each of them to you, but you couldn’t really keep all the names, blaming on the alcohol because your memory was insanely good when sober. “Hope you guys are having fun and still do when things start to get wild.” You scoffed, watching a few people on the other side of the backyard preparing themselves for a massive body shot. “So hot yet so gross.” You mused, hearing a specific snort followed by the funniest laugh. Mason, if you remembered correctly. Innocently, you just winked at him and turned back to Ben.

“Yes?” He arched his left eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go now because if I stay near the pool for a little longer, I’ll have to be the first to jump.”

“And what is wrong with that?” Mason asked before Ben could.

Another sip on your whisky, the usual burn on your throat not bothering anymore. Just the amazing sensation of feeling so light you could float. “I’m not wearing anything underneath the dress.” You chuckled, facing an extremely annoyed Ben before you left.

Not long after that, you were right where everyone knew you’d end up: the kitchen counter. You were on your knees, hands running up and down your body, moving to the beat of  Rihanna’s song Needed Me. The song ended with you lying there, trying to catch your breath as a friend was watching you while pouring some more whisky in your glass. “Is my lipstick still intact, Nico?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Would you like me to smudge it for you, though?” Nico teased. If he wasn’t such a fuck boy, you’d say yes. One hundred times yes. Instead, you just snorted and before you could press your lips against his right cheek, some screaming coming from the backyard invaded the kitchen.

“KISS, KISS, KISS!” They were all screaming together as that poor girl was hovered by him, Mason fucking Mount. Even Ben, instead of doing something, just watched and laughed out loud as his friend was being a complete asshole.

“C’mon! You lost the bet, that was the deal!” Mason opened his arms, clearly drunk. You were watching from a short distance but ran fast enough to reach her right when Mason was ready to wrap his arms around her waist and force a kiss.

“She said no, you fucking twat!” You hissed, loud enough so lots of people could hear it. Placing yourself between the two of them, you pushed the girl back before she’d try to tell you it was okay when it clearly wasn’t. And instead of backing off, Mason’s behaviour made your blood boil under your skin.

“Are you a little jealous you’re not the one I was about to kiss, Y/n?” He pouted, making fun of you while everyone just watched. 

“You keep talking shit and you’re gonna get punched, Mount.” Your eyes went straight to Ben, who shook his head, as if he was asking you to control yourself or something. “And you, Benjamin… you should be ashamed.” Turning your attention back to the girl, you placed your hands on her shoulder, not really needing to ask if she was okay. She just nodded, sighing, and left.

“Do you usually ruin all the fun the way you just did, huh?” Your vision instantly blurred at his words. Who the fuck did the think he is? Closing your eyes, you breathed in so deep you almost felt sober again. “Bitch.”

It was the scoff, the mockery in his voice, his entire attitude. Your body was softly shaking now, eyes burning with tears but fuck no, you’d never cry. Not for him nor any other man, ever again. You were trying so hard to control yourself and walk away, with Ben and Natalie now both near you, and you were about to but then Mason decided to poke your shoulder.

“I am talking to y-“ and then he fell on the grass.

With a single blow, you had just turned on your heels and your clenched fist crunched into his face, right on the nose. An instant wave of pain ran from your fist through your arm, but you also felt it disappear almost completely as adrenaline now rushed through your veins. Ben must’ve thought you were going for more when you took a step towards Mason, his mates gathering around to see how he was as he watched you with eyes wide open, completely horrified at what just happened. 

“Do that again and I’ll eat your ass!” You hissed, Ben had his arms around your waist but you never fought to get rid of him, he just naturally let you go once he was sure you wouldn’t do anything. Then, you turned back to him, seeing he was horrified too. “Don’t you look at me like this, I swear to God…” You shook your head and grabbed him by his shirt. “You, Benjamin, you of all people… you watched your mate harassing a woman and didn’t do a single thing to stop him!”

He knew you were disappointed, but he was also so angry you just punched one of his best friends but, at the same time, a huge part of Ben would always think anything and everything you did was amazing. You let go of him but he cupped your face with his hands. “That was fucking awesome, Y/n!”

The excitement in his voice confused you so much, you frowned, watching him burst into a loud laugh. What the actual fuck was wrong with him and that bunch of grown ass men, for the love of God? You could hear Natalie sighing in relief, a few of Ben’s teammates laughing too.

That was so problematic you just wanted to get out of there. With a final deathly glare to Mason, noticing some red blood dots splattered in his white shirt, you left.

Your graduation party, such a huge and important moment of your life, something you fought so hard to achieve as things didn’t come easy to you — completely ruined by a stranger. A fucking idiot. And the frustration that weighed on your entire being felt overwhelming, because you weren’t one to physically hurt people no matter how bad they were, your mission had always been healing them. But you hurt Mason and, no matter how wrong he was, so were you.

That was when you finally allowed those insisting tears to roll down your cheeks once your body finally crashed onto the soft bed. Letting out a scream that was muffled by the pillow you held so tight against your face and chest, all you could think was:

You hated footballers.

If a man talks shit, then I owe him nothing

I don't regret it one bit, 'cause he had it comin

#mason mount fanfic #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount x y/n #issues series

[creativepawsworld]

Silence - Chapter 39

Pairing = Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary = Tommy decides Ana needs to learn how to use a gun, protect herself. Arthur has a hard time controlling his emotions resulting in the death of a minor. 

Warnings = Language, Grammar, Violence, Gun Warning, Death mentioned. 

Word Count = 3245

Note = To the little nonnie who asked about Tommy’s nightmares this is not the chapter I was referring to when I answered saying I would bring it up, there is another chapter I have planned for that. It is just briefly mentioned her. 

Love you all for commenting, sending questions, liking and of course reblogging you are all amazing! 

It had been four days since I told Tommy my parents had sold me off like a piece of cattle to the Italian Mafia. He took the news rather well, at least in front of me. I heard from Polly he had sent Peaky boys into the Italian quarter of town for information but so far there was nothing to report. 

Tommy not taking any chances however, he had my Peaky bodyguards return, tailing my every move. I was constantly being watched. If I went out of the house, behind me were two Peaky Blinder boys. If I stayed home, they were outside, just waiting for me leave. It was rather maddening.

I understood Tommy’s concerns, I was concerned myself but I also believed, truly, that as long as Tommy was around, nothing bad would happen to me. But that didn’t stop Tommy’s anxieties.

In fact as time went by, it only seemed get worse. He wanted me to follow him around town like a lost puppy which I refused, I wasn’t a lap dog for no man. So we both agreed that I would carry a gun with me at all times and use it if absolutely necessary. Something I already found myself regretting.

“Alright, now cock the gun, you will hear it click.” Tommy instructed in my ear from behind. Inhaling sharply, I squeezed my eyes shut releasing a loud winded breathe before following through with his words. “You need to keep your eyes open Stace. Targets move.”

“Is this really necessary Tommy?” I huffed, dropping my arms. The gun following in suit pointing now at our feet.

“And never point a loaded gun at yourself.” Tommy was quick to wrap his arms around me, taking the weapon from my hands an uncocking the trigger.

Sighing, I turned to face him, his blue eyes focused on the weapon in his hand, inspecting it for the fourth time since we started. Reaching up I plucked the half smoked cigarette from his lips tossing it towards the side, the action grabbing his attention.

With a raised eyebrow he waited patiently for my next move, silently wondering why I disregarded his cigarette without a follow through.

With a small smile I rested my hands against his chest, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Pulling away only slightly, putting on my best innocent look, hoping it would end this particular lesson early.

“You trying to distract me love?” Tommy smirked, amusement lighting up his eyes.

“Is it working?” I asked, bringing my bottom lip in between my teeth to prevent the wide grin that was threatening to expose my true motives of just wanting to go home and have my way with him.

“No” Tommy deadpanned with a shake of his head. “Now turn around.” He ordered with a nod of his head.

With an exaggerated eye roll, I turn around allowing Tommy to stand directly behind me, chest pressed against my back. Feeling his hand in mine before feeling that awful heavy metal being pressed into the palm of my hand.

“Point, aim, shoot.” Tommy whispered, his hands resting on the sides of my upper arms, guiding them up so my arms and the gun were pointed straight ahead at a tree.

Determined to end the lesson early. I cocked back the trigger, wrapping my two index fingers around the trigger before squeezing. A loud bang emitted from the gun, my body wanted to stumble back but due to Tommy’s presence I was unable to. The man was a rock when he wanted to be.

“That was it.” Tommy spoke proudly in my ear. “Again.”

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as the adrenaline rushed through my body. It was my first time ever firing a loaded gun and it was truly exhilarating.

Feeling confident, I cocked the gun much faster the second time, firing the weapon once again. A squeal of delight escaped my throat as I jumped on the spot with excitement.

“TOMMY” A gruff voice called, turning around I saw Arthur walking up the hill towards us, his face slightly red due to the incline of his walk.

I felt Tommy pat the side of my right arm, silently telling me to stay so he can speak to his brother alone. With a sigh I nodded my head watching the brothers speak in hushed tones so I wouldn’t overhear.

Looking down at my hand I lifted the gun closer to my face so I could inspect it closer. It amazed me how something so small could cause so much heartbreak and destruction. My mind couldn’t help but wonder to the people who created these and question what were they possibly thinking?

Without thinking myself, I squeezed the trigger once again a bullet buzzing through the air before hitting a patch of grass just left of Tommy and Arthur.

Both men, put their arms over their heads hiding away from the sound of gunfire before turning to look at me, each with shocked expression of their own. My mouth went wide as I stared at them, instinct kicking in, my hands flew behind my back to hid the gun as I waited for their retaliation.

“Aim needs a bit of work love” Arthur commented, standing to full height, brushing down his suit and cracking his neck. There was a small smile growing on his lips as he looked over at me but Tommy didn’t look happy.

“Stace, gimme the gun eh?” Tommy instructed, eyebrows still raised with how close the shot was to potentially taking him out.

******

After our impromptu gun lesson this morning, Tommy treated me to a upscale tea room lunch in town. Something I really wasn’t expecting.

Dates with Tommy rarely happened because of his line of work and I was okay with that. I didn’t go out much before him so it made no difference to me personally whether we went out or not. But recently he was really putting in the effort, truly making me feel wanted. 

“Thank you for lunch Tommy I don’t…” I begin to say feeling the tears in my eyes. I was so emotional since finding out about the baby, I couldn’t help it. Polly told me it was the hormones, that they are all out of sync at the unexpected guest in my womb.

“Stace you deserved to be treated to that seven days a week. You have nothing to thank me for eh.” Tommy grinned lacing our fingers together as we walked through the streets of Birmingham and back towards home.  

“I know but your busy…”

“Never too busy for you though eh?.” He interrupted with a shake of his head. His actions matching his words as of late.

“I love you Tommy” I grinned, stopping him in his tracks to plant an intimate yet sweet kiss on his lips. Pulling back slightly I saw a slight blush on his cheeks as he looked around to see who was watching. “Always got to be the tough guy Mr Shelby.”

“I do have a reputation to uphold Miss Adler” Tommy shook off with a sly smile, sending a wink in my direction as we started to walk once again.

I was enjoying the blissful walk with Tommy when a Peaky Blinder ran up to him, stopping us both in our tracks. I watched the younger gentleman whisper something into Tommy’s ear, his hand tightening in mine at whatever was said.

“Stace, I need you to go home. Right now.” Tommy explained, eyes blown wide with concern. “Peter, take her home, you hear me. Take her home.”

“Tommy? What is going on? Tommy?”

“I’ll talk to you later, just go with Peter yeah” He nodded bending down to look directly into my eyes, nodding only I shook my head in response.

“No Tommy.” I could tell my defiance was already working on his last nerve but I was done being pushed aside and kept in the dark. I was more involved in this than he cared to acknowledge. “You can’t keep everything to yourself anymore Tommy, this is a partnership is it not?”

“Stace…”

“What’s happened? Where do we need to be Peter?” I asked ignoring Tommy’s warning stare. Instead choosing to look over his shoulder at the taller gentleman who was biting his lip, unsure of what to do.

“Fine, fine.” Tommy spoke in a huff, blowing out a deep breathe of frustration. “Peter take her to Watery Lane, make sure Arthur’s alright. I’ll join you in a bit.”

It wasn’t exactly what I wanted but it wasn’t a complete dismissal either. Biting the sides of my cheeks to stop a smile, I nodded allowing the man in front of me to take the lead, returning back towards the streets of Watery Lane.

“He is rather volatile Miss, please be wary.” Peter spoke stopping outside the black door, refusing to take another step forward.

Hearing the words he used to describe Arthur, I felt my heart stop. The last time I knew of Arthur entering a blank minded state was when he beat my late brother to a bloody pulp.  

“Oh okay, thank you” I smiled weakly at the young man.

My insides felt like they were going to explode due to the fear I was feeling. I wasn’t sure what I was about to encounter in here but I had made such a fuss about being involved I felt like I had to save face. Not only to this man in front of me but to Tommy as well.

Nodding to myself, I inhaled deeply opening the door. The entire home was in silence. I could only partially hear the rumblings and sounds coming from the betting shop next door.  

Walking into the living room, I found him. Sitting on a chair by the fire, a brown bottle of what I could only assume of whiskey on the table in front of him. He looked lost, completely out of it.

“Arthur?” I called cautiously stepping into the room but ensuring I was far enough away that I could run outside or into the betting shop for protection if I needed it.

His eyes followed me into the room but they didn’t appear to be angry, nor animalistic like I had expected. Instead they were filled with so much pain and sorrow that they actually had my heart was breaking for him. He really was a trouble man.

“Arthur, are you okay?” I asked, letting my guard down and walking further into the room, a soft smile on my face as I approached the once strong, tough looking gangster, now reduce to a crumpling mess on a chair.

“No, I’m not okay Ana. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay.” He muttered, his eyes dropping down towards his lap, his entire body slumping over itself, making him look smaller than he actually was.

“We can try and fix whatever it is happened Arthur.” Approaching him slowly, before kneeling in front of him, placing a soft hand on his to show I meant no harm.

“Nothing about it can be fix Ana. It’s past fixing.” Arthur almost growled causing me to jump away with a gasp.

Recollecting my thoughts, I let out another breathe, returning my hand to his, silently telling myself I could do this. “You don’t know that Arthur, Tommy’s pretty good at fixing things.”

“Can he bring people back from the dead?” Arthur asked, his voice was so low, I almost believed I missed heard what he had said. It was only through looking in his eyes that I knew, I had heard him correctly.  

“W-who? Who’s dead Arthur?” I asked trying my hardest to appear confident and unphased but my voice came out no louder than a whisper.

“Some kid. I killed a kid Ana because I couldn’t stop.” He growled, tears filling his waterline as he sat forward.

Out of instinct I pulled away from him, sitting back fully on the heels of my feet. I was expecting him to stand up, storm around, get his body moving but no. He just sat, elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands.

“The pressure, the fucking pressure in my head. I can’t. I can’t do it anymore Ana. FUCK” He yelled out, his hands slapping off the sides of his head. A few tears escaping from his eyes, dropping onto the floor.

“Arthur, Arthur.” I spoke pushing off the heels of my feet.

Returning to a kneeling position in front of him. I grabbed both his wrists to stop him inflicting anymore pain onto himself and threw them around my shoulders. Wrapping my own arms around his back before resting my head on his shoulder allowing him to break down against my smaller body.

“It’s okay, it’s okay Arthur.” I whispered rubbing small circles on his back.

Swallowing back whatever judgements I may have had. This was a broken man in front of me, crying out for help, help that would never arrive.

I was so disappointment in our government, in our royalty for expecting these men to fight in their war, expecting them to see things no one should have to ever see, only to throw them back in society with no help and expecting them to be okay.

“Arthur.” Tommy’s voice broke us apart, looking over my shoulder at him he was standing by the door, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, his typical unreadable expression on his face.

“The doctor said the boy had a weak heart.” Tommy sighed his eyes flickering down to me before returning to his brother who had now settled back against the chair, looking back at his brother. “We will look after his mother, it will be fine.”

“I should have stayed on the medicine Tom. But I thought  you knew best but I can feel my mind slipping Tommy, and I can’t stop it.” Arthur explained, pointing his index finger to his temple. “In and out, in and out.”

“We’ve been home a long time now Arthur, home a long time. I thought you were alright.” Tommy rolled his tongue, turning his back to his brother and I to look out the window of the house.

“Yeah well I d-don’t think I- I am.” He shakes his head, hearing his words I sit up up placing both my hands on his forearm, but he just shrugs it off reaching to his side to pull out his gun, tossing it onto the table with a loud crash.

I sat back on the heels of my feet unsure of whether or not to get involved with the brotherly dispute. I could feel the anger already radiating from Tommy from across the room.

“Take that fucking things away from me” Arthur yelled, using his hand to gesture towards the gun he had just thrown.

The atmosphere was tense, scarily tense as Tommy turned only slightly to look at the gun. “Just fuck off then Arthur.” He spat before turning around fully the anger I sensed fully evident on his face. “I’ve had enough, I’ve fucking had enough” He yells marching towards Arthur and getting into his face.

“Tommy” I tried, pushing off my heels and using the wall to stand to my feet, placing a cautious hand on his shoulder which he easily shrugged off.

“JUST FUCK OFF EH” Tommy yelled in his brother’s face.

“TOMMY” I spoke a little more firmly, pushing against his arm this time but it made no difference, the man didn’t move.

“Suppose to treat you like some fucking kid again now eh? Keep you away from guns, fucking rope. Is that it? YOU THINK I HAVEN’T GOT ENOUGH ON?”

“I’m sorry Tom” Arthur whimpers, tears falling from his eyes as he avoided his brother’s furious stare, looking down at his lap.

“The war is done. Shut the fucking door on it. Shut the door like I did.”

“Like you did” Arthur repeated.

“Yeah” Tommy breathed, tongue coming out to moisten his lips. “Like I fucking did, close the door eh.”

Biting my tongue, Tommy’s words seemed to be working if only slightly on Arthur but I wasn’t expecting him to growl. Throwing his brother back against the fireplace a scream escaped my throat as I rushed forward to help Tommy only he held a hand up to stop me.

Arthur was now yelling in his face, his hands grabbing either side of Tommy’s face as he scream incoherently at his younger brother. His face bright red from all his yelling before his head finally dropped into his chest. He was finished.

“Look at yourself” Tommy demands wrapping his hands around the back of his brothers neck, pushing it to the side so Arthur could look at himself in the mirror. “Take. A. Long. Hard. Fucking. Look. At. Yourself.” He spats each word carefully before tossing his brother aside, stepping away from the situation to collect himself.

“Tommy?” I question as he walked towards the door, opening it before slamming it shut and returning to the room. Making eye contact with me, he tilts his head behind him before lifting the gun from the table.

Moving behind him, I watched him open the bullet compartment of the gun allowing each bullet it leave it’s home, before grabbing the half bottle of whiskey, tossing it into the fire, causing a large flame to raise.

Taking my hand in his, he pulled me from the home ignoring the profanity Arthur yelled after us.

“He really shouldn’t be alone Tommy” I tell him, struggling to keep up with his quick steps, he was practically dragging me along the street behind him.

“By all means go back to him, you both seem rather cosy before I interrupted” Tommy spat throwing my hand from his roughly before turning to face me.

“I was comforting your brother Thomas, just like I do with you every night you have a nightmare.” I tell him with a straight face, somehow managing to keep my emotions under control. “I am trying here.”

“Jesus, FUCK” Tommy yelled turning his back to me, his sudden outburst of emotion in public catching me off guard. The neighbours in the street avoided eye contact as they scurried along to do their business or disappear back into their homes.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Tommy apologised, a weak yet forced smile on his lips as he reached for my head. “Let’s just go home eh?”

“How old was the boy Tommy?” I asked with a nod of my head, taking his hand in mine, allowing him to walk me home. I could feel the stress he was under by being this close to him and I hated it.

How did I make him understand that he didn’t have to help the world alone?

“Fifteen”

“Jesus” I whispered, my mind going straight to the poor mother of the boy who would have received the worst possible news earlier today. It was a pointless, unfair killing. The boy was only training for a sport he loved and to have lost his life because of it, I couldn’t… I had no words.

Grabbing onto my non existent bump, I walked quietly alongside Tommy. Promising our unborn child that no harm will ever come to them as long as I had breathe in my lungs, a promise I knew Tommy would also make without hesitation.

Taglist 

@shelbyteller @seleneshelby @forgottenpeakywriter @babayaga67 @sweetmilkshakeluminary @slutforcoffein @sydneyyyya @happysparklingshadows @margew76   @midnightmagpiemama​

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommyshelby #thomasshelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders

[garbinge]

Contaminated (13/?)

Angel Reyes x OC Lara Barrera Losa OC Lara Losa x OC Frankie Loza

From these August Prompts:  “Damage Control"

A/N: Update for my girlies <3 and Angel lol.

For a refresh, all the chapter links are in the below link!

Chapter Index

TW: 18+, mentions of death, losing a loved one, Alzheimers, cancer, light angst, cursing. . 

Word Count: 1.8k 

Taglist: (Just let me know if you want to be added :) @est1887 @minimel-fics @spnaquakindgdom @nessamc @alienstardust @mrsstevenbuchananstark @hinagiku0 @lyly00 @drabbles-mc @lilac-tea-time (it’s been a while since I’ve posted this, if I’ve forgot to add you to the taglist or you’d like to be tagged just let me know!)

“So this has been going on for five years?” Frankie sat at the kitchen island trying to wrap her brain around everything. 

“No, once five years ago. And now, only for a few months.” Lara explained. 

“Months?!” Frankie’s eyes went bug eyed. 

“Weeks! A few weeks!” Lara corrected herself to ease Frankie more into it. She was in full damage control mode and trying to back track her mistake of not telling her best friend about her and Angel, although classifying it as a mistake wasn’t exactly true. She had her reasons for not saying anything but she was regretting her finding out this way. Lara’s eyes moved over to the person to her right expecting him to chime in but Angel was too busy stuffing his face. 

Lara closed her eyes and took a big sigh before looking back at Frankie. 

“I was going to tell you, I promise I was going to tell you.” Her hand extended across the island to grab Frankie’s. “I just, things are really complicated right now. I didn’t wanna risk Bishop finding out and honestly we weren’t really sure this was anything until yesterday anyways.” 

At that Angel looked up from his plate, “Um, no I was actually sure, just following your lead.” 

Lara looked at him with a frown and then back at Frankie, “Alright well I wasn’t sure this was anything so I wanted to wait to tell you.”

Frankie just sat there, frown on her face, more confused than angry as she took in all the information.

“Are you happy?” She looked at Lara and asked, her face was serious. 

Lara looked at Frankie for a split second before looking over to Angel who was also waiting for her response. Her silence was bringing anxiety to everyone in the room except herself. Turning back to Frankie she nodded. 

“The happiest I’ve been since Aiden.” She knew Frankie would get that, Lara loved her little brother like anyone would have loved and cared for their little sibling, but Aiden brought Lara pure joy into her life and when he died that light in Lara went with him. 

“Okay then.” Frankie said with a nod and she stood up getting ready to leave. 

“I’m going up north with Hank today to see my grandma.” She was grabbing her bag and situating it back over her pajamas. 

“It’s like 5 in the morning.” Angel said confused since the girl had just gotten home an hour ago and was pretty drunk. 

Lara knew though. This time of year was difficult for everyone. For Lara and Bishop it brought up the painful memories of losing Aiden. For Frankie and Hank it was his mother, her grandmother, while she was still alive, she was going downhill but they still went up every year around this time to celebrate the anniversary of her beating cancer. It was fucked up that the year she beat cancer the early onset of Alzheimer's began. It gave them an excuse to visit her and ring the bell every year, though and it did bring some happiness to each of them to see her celebrate it. 

“I completely spaced.” Lara said realizing it was one of the reasons she had gotten drunk. “Do you need a ride?” Yes, Lara was sucking up, but that’s what you did when you were in full damage control mode with your best friend. You kissed her ass. 

“No Hank’s picking me up, I’m gonna wait outside for him.” She squeezed Lara’s arm and gave a half smile even though it looked more like a frown. “I’m happy you’re happy. You deserve that.” 

As Frankie passed Angel she leaned over to give him a quick goodbye. “If you hurt her I’ll fuckin’ gut you.” It was said at such a whisper, Angel almost missed it but he didn’t. His eyes went wide and his brows met in the middle of his forehead as the shock and confusion of what Frankie said to him settled in. As Frankie pulled away the smile on her face was like nothing of the sorts had just been spoken from her mouth. 

Lara walked Frankie to the door, there was so much more she wanted to say but right now wasn’t the right time. But she couldn’t just say nothing. 

“I want you to know it’s not because I didn’t trust you–”

“I know, Lara. It’s because you wanted to keep it yours. I get it.” The smile on Frankie’s face was a lot more genuine now, “but I’m still mad at you. And whatever this is, I expect it when I’m back.” She laughed, referring to Lara’s full kiss ass mode. 

The two hugged before Frankie walked out the door leaving Lara and Angel in the apartment by themselves. 

“That could’ve gone worse!” Angel said, standing up from the stool. 

“That could’ve gone better.” Lara said with an eye roll. 

“Well, I’m sure a couple hours of sleep will make you feel better.” Angel was practically begging to go back to bed. 

“You can go back to bed but I have tons of shit I need to get done.” Lara started picking through the cabinet under the sink for cleaning supplies. 

“What?” Angel frowned and looked at what Lara was doing. 

“I’m in full damage control mode, I’m gonna clean her room, like really clean her room and do her laundry.” Lara said in an obvious way like Angel should have known better. “Why don’t you go home, crash, and call me when you’re up, I’ll come over and we can stay at your place tonight. Give Frankie some space.” 

Angel was genuinely baffled and confused but knew better than to argue with the girl. “Sure, you don’t need help cleaning?” 

“Thanks for the offer but I’ll be good.” Lara smiled as Angel bent down and placed a kiss on her head.

Cleaning was actually pretty therapeutic for Lara, it gave her time to clear her head while also going through some thoughts and feelings she needed to sort out, doing this for Frankie felt like the right thing. She honestly didn’t hide it because she thought Frankie would tell Bishop it was exactly what Frankie said, she wanted it to be just her and Angel’s thing. No outside sway or opinions. It was dark by the time Angel called, Lara knew he had probably been up for a while and got called into club stuff, she didn’t mind, it gave her more time around the house. 

Now at Angel’s, the two of them were knocked out on the couch, both catching up on the hours they missed from the night prior. Hours must’ve passed by just with the TV playing overnight in the background while the two laid snoring on the couch. An alarm went off on someones phone, causing both of them to stir awake, both a little frightened while they searched for the source of the noise. 

“It’s not mine.” Angel said his voice groggy and raspy. 

“It’s mine, I have a shift. It’s already 7AM.” Lara sighed and plopped back down against Angel who had already tried to go back to sleep. 

“Call out.” Angel mumbled. 

“I wish, I need the money. I’m gonna shower.” Lara wasn’t exactly speaking at anything higher than a mumble either. “Please can you make me coffee?” 

The groan from Angel’s throat was one of annoyance but not one of defiance so Lara knew she’d have a hot cup of coffee when she got out of the shower which is what motivated her to get up in the first place. “Thank you.” 

______

“I don’t know what you did to get water pressure like that but I’m demanding you come to our apartment and do it to our shower.” Lara said as she walked through Angel’s house in one of his flannels and her hair wet ready for a coffee. 

To Lara’s surprise, Angel wasn’t alone, she walked right into the living room where EZ was with the biggest grin on his face. 

“Hi Lara.” He smiled from ear to ear. 

“Prospect.” She rolled her eyes, no need to hide now. If Frankie didn’t tell him, she eventually would have and there was no going back from or denying her swimming in Angel’s clothes. 

Angel had a cup of coffee in his hand and handed one to Lara. “EZ brought coffee, you can have mine.”

“If I knew you were gonna have company I would have brought three, or not come at all.” The grin on EZ’s face was getting bigger as he spoke, he wanted to boast and tell Angel every version of ‘I told you so’ that he could. 

Lara took two sips from the cup and handed it back to Angel. “Here I just needed a jolt, I gotta get ready and head out anyways, I’ll grab something on the way.” And before she could even let either of them respond she was running back into Angel’s room and tossing her all black hostess outfit on and tying her hair back. 

As the two boys stood alone in the living room, EZ wiggled his eyebrows at Angel which earned him a light shove and ‘shut the fuck up’ before Lara reappeared in the room. 

“Sorry to leave like this, thanks for the coffee sips.” She stood up on her tip toes to grab Angel’s head and leave a kiss on his lips before grabbing her purse off the hooks and going to the door to leave. “Bye EZ!” 

Now both the men were truly alone in Angel’s house, there was a couple seconds of silence before EZ spoke up. 

“So should I say I told you so, I was right, or something else? I’ll let you come up with it even, it can be a joint effort.” EZ was still grinning from ear to ear. 

“Man, shut up.” Angel turned to grab his kutte from the hooks. “I thought you needed me for club shit.” 

“I do, but this is just my reward for having to play hide n seek with the fuckin’ club. No one answers their phone this early.” 

“Yea bro, it’s 7 fuckin AM.” Angel’s eyebrows raised as he placed his kutte on and grabbed the coffee back to chug half of it down. “Come on let’s go.” 

“Yo,” EZ said as they started to head out themselves. “Don’t fuck this shit up.” It was serious, he wasn’t grinning anymore, it was coming from a genuine place. 

“Don’t go saying shit at the club, aight? Bish doesn’t know and I’m gonna let Lara tell me how she wants to deal with that.” Angel yelled back at his little brother and paused before speaking up again. 

“And I’m not gonna fuck it up.”

#mayans #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fanfiction #Angel Reyes x OC #ezekiel reyes x oc #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes #angel reyes #my oc #oc lara losa #oc frankie loza #contaminated #contaminatedfic

[nichenarratives]

Hurricane Heller 22

A Niche Narratives Fanfiction

last | first | next

TW: GANG VIOLENCE, T0RTURE; DESCRIPTIONS OF ELECTROCUTION

22. Electrifying Interrogation 

"Time to chat about the books you submitted last week."

His jacket removed and shirt sleeves rolled up while he was unconscious, Mordecai can feel the cold keenly. He blames that for the shudder that passes through his body when their eyes meet across the dirt floor. Gabriel leans back casually, chair squeaking as his weight shifts on its hinges and taking another toke of his cigarette, yellow eyes never leaving olive, even as he exhales hot smoke with a heavy sigh. "Come on, Kosher. Tell me about the books."

The insinuation the persian has no qualms taking their chat further into the realms of interrogation hangs in the air. The laid out tools enforce it, as does their location. But Gabriel is not an interrogator. He's a cleaner, mopping up the mess a criminal organisation as large as the Savage family would inevitably leave behind. His continued involvement is equal parts disconcerting and reassuring, yet without certainty, he can't make reliable assumptions about Gabriel's intentions.

Dark claws flex against the arm of the chair, the nervous tick pulling at his bindings. Gabriel ensured they were too tight to slip when securing him, that is obvious. Mordecai takes a deep breath and turns his attention to the figures still hidden in the shadows, though he's given only a second to discern two shapes before Gabriel snaps his fingers, speaking in a stern tone. "I'm the one talking to you, so look at me. Or do I have to remind you of your manners?"

Adrenaline is one hell of a drug, Mordecai has found. It can override even the most innate anxious responses, given the correct circumstances. With his mother's life on the line, it's a powerful invigorator; the young tom looks back with lidded eyes and a grimace, playing the part of Isaiah Fitzgerald so naturally, the calm facade keeps the tom focused, allowing a sense of control in spite of his unfortunate circumstances. "I'd receive superior etiquette tutelage from a feral racoon."

"You've always got to be the funny guy, haven't you." It's not a question, but a statement delivered with a frown. Gabriel seems strangely reluctant to continue, pausing once again to drag on his cigarette, burning it down the filter before he flicks it away and leans forward, pale fingers interlocking between spread thighs. "Here's the crack, kid," he continues in a serious tone. "Savage wants his money back, so you're going to tell me where it's stashed. Easy, right?"

Dark ears turn away, a slow whip of his tail mitigating some anxious energy before Mordecai scoffs at the idea. "I'm not an imbecile, Gabriel," the monochrome acknowledges him aloud, fully expecting the scowl that forms on the persian's muzzle. A fearful part of Mordecai begs to inform him of the safe and be done with it, but suppressing such anxieties is second nature now. He refuses to surrender what little he's achieved in life so easily, clinging to his mannerisms to keep calm. "Once I divulge that information, you'll dispose of me. With that in mind, I'm sure you understand why I must decline your reques-"

"Just tell me, Kosher," the white feline interjects irritably, the casual air around him becoming physical agitation; his body stiffens, his ears turning around as if slighted and a fluffy tail curling and twisting behind him. Mordecai waits silently for him to continue, aware of an internal conflict within the persian but incapable of placing emotions being expressed. When he speaks again, Gabriel's tone is almost regretful. "Make it easier on both of us, would you? Just say where it's hidden. Don't force my hand."

Mordecai tightens his jaw, and the white feline sighs before he stands. "Just remember I gave you the chance," is all he says, before casually waving a shrouded figure forward with a few curls of his index and middle fingers. Movement and a grunt of effort prelude two men stepping into the light, one of whom he recognises from the Christmas poker game. It's concerning to be approached by Savage's silent right hand man, but more so when the large, metallic device a stooge hauls after him is illuminated.

Gray and ominous with various dials, the needles flickering at zero when it's placed heavily to his right, it doesn't take a genius to figure out it's some kind of portable generator. The boss' personal hitman - Jackson Jameson, a name too daft to forget - now lounges in the folding chair opposite while his underling gets everything set up; flicking on a number of switches makes the metal contraption begin thrumming in earnest, the dials swiftly rising to mid ranges of readouts, something the lackey soon begins to fine-tune.

The deep rumble is an affront in itself, but the intended use of the device hangs potently in the air like static. Mordecai leans away from the generator, shamefully tugging on his restraints a few times as the deafening growl is reduced to a higher whirr. The dials read far lower once the lackey gives his boss a thumbs up, but that doesn't alleviate any anxiety about its use, especially when the goon dons thick leather gloves and affixes one of the large, metal clamps onto the backrest of his equally metallic chair.

"This seems excessive," Mordecai comments flatly, not in an attempt to change their minds but to comprehend what is about to happen, watching with constricted olive eyes as the unknown goon now retrieves the second clamp and silently walks around up to his right side. The tom pulls again on the restraints and kicks against his ankle bindings, but to no avail. "Surely the usual implements would suffi-"

As the second clamp touches the bare skin of his forearm, his assessment cuts off with a voluminous shout, Mordecai contorting in agony as electricity travels from the chair into the muscles of his calves, thighs and torso, disrupting innate electrical impulses as it courses through soft flesh, muscle and fat alike up to his collarbone. From there, the electrical pulse shoots down his right arm to rejoin the other clamp, completing one full circuit.

Jackson watches the entire performance with a calf resting on the opposite knee, expression detached and unflinching, but a second feels like hours for Mordecai. When the clamp is pulled back, he sags forward and gasps for breath while the right side of his body occasionally spasms with residual electrical disruption, vision spotting from the pain. Only once the young tom manages to straighten up of his own volition does Jackson address his assistant. "The voltage, Brady?"

"Pretty low," the complice responds, looking at the generator dials to double check. "Forty."

"Make it fifty," the spotted feline orders without looking away from their prey. Brady nods, returning the other clamp to the correct node for safety before he begins to adjust the dials. 

Mordecai barely hears any of their conversation, recovering from his first electrical shock somewhat poorly; his skin feels like it's on fire, his heart racing in his chest and his breaths both deep and heavy as he re-oxygenates his brain, it takes almost thirty seconds of silence for him to recuperate. With a hard swallow and furrowed brows, olive eyes crack open to meet yellows set over a grim frown, Jackson drumming his fingers on his calf impatiently.

"Mr Fitzgerald," the sandy feline addresses formally, not an ounce of familiarity in his tone. Despite his predicament, the tuxedo focuses foremost on suppressing intrinsic urges; he forces himself to relax into the chair beneath yellowed irises and flexes his fingers almost nonchalantly when addressed, ears raised high and attentive despite the anxiety gnawing at his gut. It's an effective ruse; Jackson narrows his gaze. "I'm here to discuss some discrepancies in your calculations over the last nine days. I presume you'll comply?" 

While Gabriel had been willing to negotiate an amicable, painless end for a former colleague if information had been surrendered, Jackson has no such sentiments to complicate his work. They're acquaintances at best, rivals at worst, and he has intimate experience with the tuxedo's quirks and tells from two annual poker games. Mordecai was backed into a corner before this game even began. He needs to take back control somehow. "Within reason, of cour-"

Jackson raises a single finger, and the clamp is pressed into his flesh once more. Mordecai clenches his teeth and yells into the cavern of his maw, split flying from spaces between his bared fangs as electricity hijacks his sore neurons and waterlogged tissues once more. Coupled with the increased voltage, he grinds his teeth to counteract the intense pain in his right side and abdomen until Jackson lowers his finger just two seconds later.

He gasps for breath again, entire body twitching in the aftermath of the second shock, head hung low and scruffy hair obscuring his face. Mordecai feels his pince nez sliding down his muzzle alongside a residual buzzing in his teeth, an odd sensation that radiates into his jawbone even when it relaxes. Saliva attempts to drip out of his slack maw, but when an attempt to wipe it is thwarted by his restraints, he's forced to suck it back in with a grimace. 

"I'd suggest you reign in your 'butcher' disposition, before it results in premature demise," the bengal warns in measured tones. He doesn't wait for Mordecai to straighten up this time, a clear assertion of control. "And explain the aforementioned discrepancies. I assume I don't need to summarise them?"

Leaning on his forearms heavily to right himself, Mordecai is finds it harder to retain his composure when they lock eyes again. He can hear the electricity whirring in the generator, Brady holding the clamp just within his peripheral vision, an ominous threat of further shocks. The tuxedo swallows hard on a dry throat and leans back in his chair, his heart beating too fast for comfort as he breathes heavily, maw slightly ajar to facilitate filling his lungs between words. "Missing money."

"Missing money," Jackson echoes calmly as fingers tap out a flowing rhythm on his calf, the hand other flat to the arm of his folding chair. The bengal reaches into a pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, unfolding it leisurely. "I don't check the books. However, Savage's personal accountant handed me an extensive list of your discrepancies last night, though I'm certain you don't require an itemised list. You've calculated them all already, haven't you?"

"Yes," the tuxedo responds quietly. Lying or 'being funny', as Gabriel would call it, will only result in further shocks, that is abundantly clear. Olive eyes flicker to the darkness beyond their illuminated clearing, but he can't pick the persian out of the shadows. He may have exited the building, as he would for Mordecai's own interrogations. Without intervention, he's entirely at Jackson's control. He turns his gaze back slowly to the bengal. "Three percent from each endeavour, across nine consecutive days, totaling three thousand-seventeen dollars and five cents. Minus expenses."

The honesty seems to win him temporary favouritism, as a subtle flick of a pinkie results in the clamp being returned to the transformer node. Mordecai ashamedly sags with relief, even if it's not turned off. Simply having the offending object far away is a boon. "Three thousand-seventeen dollars," the spotted feline marvels with a low whistle. "Quite the flush of cash. So tell me then; what have you done with over three thousand dollars, hm?"

Pale lips open, then close swiftly afterwards, something that draws an almost disappointed stare from Jackson. "Don't lie to me now, Isaiah. We both know you haven't spent it. You still live in that one room apartment bordering the slums with no family, friends or broad to spend it on. No bank account in your name either, strangely. Utilities and rent for that little place wouldn't consume three grand in two weeks either. So where have you stashed it? What are you hoarding it for?"

Black ears turn away and Mordecai tightens his jaw. Having spent the last week fixated on informing his family of where the money is hidden, he hasn't yet developed a convincing cover story for its embezzlement to offer the mob. Caught in an uncharacteristically unprepared state, he opts for silence over potentially putting his foot in his mouth. Jackson's look of disappointment becomes glunch. He sits back, reaching into his jacket as he raises a single digit of the other hand, a signal swiftly accompanied by the lifting of the clamp.

He has seconds to backtrack, mind racing through possible excuses and justifications as the clamp comes closer, fur of his forearm standing on end from static discharge when it's barely an inch from his flesh. Mordecai flinches away and pulls uselessly on his binds when Brady gets closer. "I-Its in my apartment," he blurts out, the memory of pain so fresh, his skin hurts before the clamp makes contact. Jackson lowers his digit. Brady backs off an inch. Mordecai takes a shaking breath, then speaks. "It's concealed i-in the wall."

Mordecai hates himself for cracking so easily, even more so for allowing his fear to show. His tail wraps around his ankle as he watches Jackson casually light a cigar, yellow eyes never once leaving his face as he sparks up, takes a drag and releases the smoke through flared nostrils before he speaks. "Good," the bengal praises, tapping ash from his cigar onto the floor. "Doesn't it feel better to tell the truth? It makes our lives so much easier. Now all we need to know is where, and I can leave you in Gabriel's very capable hands."

Gabriel's cleaner hands. Olive eyes flicker to the darkness all around once again. The open space seemingly devoid of anyone until Gabriel shifts slightly closer, the shadows cast across his face picking out new wrinkles and old scars that litter his muzzle. It's the face of a man who's seen too much, of a man with regrets and secrets. A man I will not become, if I surrender my knowledge in this godforsaken factory.

"Increase to sixty-five." The order cuts through Mordecai's thoughts, snapping his focus back to the generator as Brady gently twists one of the dials. The rumbling within the metal box increasing seemingly twofold, dark ears fold back to an equally black skull. "Tell me where the money is, Fitzgerald." Jackson implores, though he looks as casual as ever as he lounges in his identical chair, sucking on his cigar between orders. "We're running out of sunlight, and who knows how high Brady might set the voltage in the dark. So spill."

Panic isn't an emotion Mordecai Heller feels often, but it's as thick as the blood in his veins as Brody approaches him, the clamp held aloft in a thickly gloved paw. The tuxedo turns to Jackson earnestly. "I'll show you," he offers, only feeling the panic rise when the bengal rolls his eyes and raises a finger. He tugs uselessly on the restraints, hackles raised and teeth bared in anticipation of severe pain, leaning as far from the impending clamp as he physically can, verbose vocabulary abandoning him in the moment. "I can't die out here. I can't just be another missing body. Please, I-"

There aren't words to describe the searing pain that shoots through his body on contact; his body doesn't just tense, but convulses uncontrollably, eyes squeezing shut of their own volition and claws scraping against the metal arm beneath. Unable to make a conscious sound, all he can do is weather the agony with the odd choking gasp as saliva gathers and slides unwittingly down his gullet, contact with his windpipe creating an involuntary spasm on top of the tortured jerking.

By the time Jackson lowers his finger down, tears collect in the corners of olive eyes, breaths strained and heavy in the sudden silence once Mordecai is permitted a reprieve. He'd been on the verge of losing control of his bladder, the verge of passing out from pure torment. Every inch of his skin remains on fire with sensation after the torture has ended, but his frazzled mind is still aware if he surrenders that information out here, he will die here too. 

His only chance to escape alive - as slim as it may be - is returning to the city. He needs to hold onto the location of even the dummy safe until then, but Mordecai isn't sure how much longer he can take this abuse.

"Give h-her a body," he finally pleads and cracks exhausted eyes, looking up at Jackson through his lashes, submissive in his final admission. It has to be authentic; Jackson has to believe he's given up, so Mordecai leans heavily on former truths to form convincing lies. After all, a single second of doubt could result in an inescapable, immediate death. "My mother hasn't spoken t-to me since I emancipated myself from Temple. She doesn't know if I'm alive or d-dead, what I do for a living. I don't want her-"

"Save the sob story," the bengal interjects gruffly, stubbing out his cigar in the arm of the chair before he stands and tucks it into a pocket. "You should've thought about that before embezzling three thousand fucking dollars from the Savage family." Brady backs off as to avoid injuring his boss as Jackson pulls Mordecai's pistol from a breast pocket. He aims it directly at the Mordecai's temple, who flinches away as tears finally slip into dark fur. "Last chance for a swift demise, before I let Brady see how many volts it takes to fry a Yiddish penny pincher. Where's the fucking money?"

Mordecai doesn't hear anything after having his Colt aimed at his head; he's hyperventilating, shaking in his restraints. Hot tears soak his fur without consent and claws dig into the metallic arms of his chair as both his ears ring loud enough to nullify his other senses; he's going to die here, he's sure of it now. Then they'll rip his apartment apart until they find the stash. They might even find the cache in his bedroom by chance, reducing his sacrifice to nothing, all because he let desperation get the better of him, because he got knowingly careless with his financial endeavours.

On the precipice of death, the world tilts, the meaning of life itself turning on its head; his legacy is nothing but violence, a trail of bodies in an exceedingly long shadow of deception. Mordecai has left nothing of worth behind, nothing of value, a wasted opportunity for greatness Hashem must scoff at.

He thinks of his mother and sisters, of the sorrow they'll feel when he doesn't show up on Sunday, of the terror that will I vade their lives when he's not seen for weeks, their grief as the months become years. If they're lucky, he'll be dumped in the sea and they'll have something to bury, the shame of his involvement with the criminal underworld marring their family name for generations to come, the scathing glances of the congregation following them until their dying breaths.

Forgive me, Mother. He begs silently. I only wished for-

His head snaps to the side as pain blossoms in his muzzle. The sudden shock of being punched in the nose snaps Mordecai out of his internal spiral and firmly plants him in the present, just in time to feel his left shoulder and hip slam into the floor. The impact jogs his glasses awkwardly along his muzzle but they don't quite fall off, leaving them hanging further to the left side as his now free limbs sluggishly move to all fours in an attempt to get up. That is, until a rough hand grabs his collar and hoists him to unsteady feet.

"Well aren't you lucky," Jackson sneers, now so close to an ear, his breath makes the appendage flicker. Unfocused olive eyes dart left as the bengal twists Mordecai's shirt so tightly, his collar button tightens to his throat in warning. "Old Gabe's a sentimental type. He still thinks of you as a friend, wants to give your old lady the dignity of a good son to bury, so you better be fucking quiet in the trunk on the ride back. Otherwise, I'll shoot you square between the eyes and drop your body in the nearest ditch, his misplaced affections be damned. Am I clear, Fitz?"

Not yet recovered enough to speak, Mordecai nods hastily. "Good boy," the spotted feline praises, before shoving the smaller monochrome towards Gabriel, who grabs his upper arm firmly enough to hurt. Jackson turns his attention to the persian. "Get him his jacket and coat on, then get him in the trunk. If we leave now, we can be done before Savage shuts shop for the night. I'm sure news of the Yid's death and the return of three thousand dollars will bring all three of us a tidy commission.."

As they converse over his head discussing how they might spend their cut, Mordecai keeps his gaze on his shoes, shrugging his jacket and coat on in silence. It's a misleading disengagement while his mind turns over all the possible avenues for his demise, one he continues as he's forced into the trunk for the long drive back to the city. Almost two hours of silence later, the roaring engine an encompassing white noise and copious time to scheme allow Mordecai to formulate a number of contingency plans.

Emergency pocket knife extracted from his coat lining, the tom slips it into his coat pocket as the car slows and engine cuts out. Survival hinges on these next crucial minutes, but with nothing left to lose beyond life itself, Mordecai Heller isn't going down without a fight.

#lackadaisy #niche narratives #fanfiction #hurricane heller #mordecai heller #lackadaisy cats #tracy j butler #lackadaisy mordecai #fanfic #no beta we die like atlas may

[leebrontide]

Secondhand Origin Stories, Chapter 1

I'm posting a chapter a week till we're done, as I prepare book 2 in the series for release!

For details about the book, an index of chapters, and content warnings check out the information post!

Chapter 1

Opal shifted in the hard plastic chair in the humid, cinderblock room, leaning to peer past the scratched riot glass to the door beyond. Two half-cubicles down, a woman was arguing with her husband through the g1lass, tears on her face. Opal was pretty sure she’d passed the woman here a few times before. Most of the inmates at this facility were in for the long haul. A lot of them were altereds from the same line as her dad. You got to recognize the people that actually kept up their visits, for as far as the prison was from the city.

The door opened, and Opal leaned a little further forward, forehead to the glass. She grinned. Maybe it was a little forced, but she always had to show him she was at least OK enough to fake it. This visit more than ever. She let her dark skin light up with the flitting little pink bioluminescent lights he’d recognize as a good mood, but waited until he was close enough that she wouldn’t have to yell before she actually used words. The guards didn’t like it when they used ASL, but his cochlear implant was ancient by now, and fritzed out a lot. “Hi, daddy.” 

She was 18. Too old to call him ‘daddy,’ really, and she would’ve looked weird to anyone watching. Opal was dense and well-muscled. She looked like some kind of hardcore weightlifter. Not someone who called her father ‘daddy,’ collected pretty stationary, and liked reading romances from the 1700s. But as long as they kept their voices low and conversational, and avoided gestures, nobody cared what they were saying. Everyone here was used to Nick Flynn, his bio-lights like the briefest flares of stars against the almost midnight black of his skin. Most of the Detroit line altereds had bioluminescence, which meant a lot of the inmates had it. Opal, with her wide-set black eyes, squared jaw, and high cheekbones, could not have been any more obviously his daughter.

He offered her a bright smile, not quite as forced as hers. “There’s my graduate! How’s it feel?” The smile dimmed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t--”

“Quit it,” she interrupted. She didn’t like to disrespect him by interrupting, but it turned her stomach every time he apologized for not being at home where he wanted to be. She didn’t want to be the reason he regretted what he’d done to end up here. She tried to lighten the mood. “Anyways, I’m bringing the experience to you.”

He raised his eyebrows. She wasn’t allowed to bring her phone or any electronics in with her, so she couldn’t show him the low-res video of her particular dot among the 2,000 other dots in a line getting their pieces of paper. But she was allowed to bring in a clear plastic backpack, sold especially for prison visits. She unzipped it, pulling out the slightly dented mortarboard hat she’d retrieved off the grass after she returned her own graduation hat to the rental place. His grin lit back up as she put it on her head and paused to pose, showing it off. “I have brought you your very own recent-history reenactment.”

He slow-clapped, leaning back in his chair, a faint hint of pink flitting across his features. 

“First, we sat through two hours of speeches.” She leaned back suddenly in her chair, staring up at the ceiling as if boredom could actually kill her. The hat almost fell off. She sat back up. “Then they started calling names.” She pretended to be excited for a second, then drooped back again, slower this time. “Then, the big highlight of the day--” She schooled her expression into polite, attentive interest, turning to the side as if there was actually someone there. She mimed taking the diploma before recreating the fast, sweaty handshake she’d gotten. She nodded a thanks at the invisible principal, then looked back at her dad, sitting back in her chair again. “And that was the big, exciting day.”

“You forgot throwing your hat,” he pointed out. 

She shook her head, taking the rumpled thing off. “Hat-throwing was punishable by fines and being ejected from the ceremony. Can’t have anyone losing an eye to this terrifying weapon.”

He looked dismayed. “You serious?”

She smiled ruefully, nodding. 2,154 students graduating. Apparently that was too much hat chaos for the school’s higher-ups. He sighed in aggravation. “That’s bullshit.”

She laughed.  “Well, you can write them a nasty letter.”

“Think I’ll wait ’till after your sister graduates to piss them off.”

“She and Aunt Tessa will be out next weekend.”

“Why didn’t you just wait and come out with them?”

Her gut did a little flip, and she licked her lips. She didn’t let the nervous violet lights flare up around her temple like they wanted to. But he knew the tell, and sat up straighter. “I got a bunch of money from Grandma and everybody at my graduation party. I priced it out. With what I already saved, I’ve got enough for a bus to Chicago, plus living expenses for two months, and a bus home, if I need it.”

His eyes snapped shut, and he stopped breathing for a second. She held her breath with him. They’d both known this was coming. She’d just expected it to take longer. Dim purples and yellows, almost invisible under his skin, shimmered anxiously, but disappeared as he exhaled. He didn’t have the kind of deliberate control over the lights that Opal and her sister did. When he opened his eyes, he nodded. “OK. Bigger day than I thought, then.”

She didn’t know what to say. “Yep.”

He nodded again, eyes slipping off to the side. He wouldn’t look down in front of her. He looked back at her. “You remember, baby. If they don’t take you, that’s on them. Not you. Don’t go taking any stupid risks to impress them. They aren’t worth that.”

“You are.”

This time his smile was tight. “Forget that. I’m a man. I can make do on my own.”

It was an old argument, but she was sucked into it, the same as ever. “You shouldn’t have to.” She didn’t raise her voice. She’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

He scowled, shifting uncomfortably. “Don’t start. You do this for you if you’re gonna do it. Nobody else.”

“Tch. Pretty bad superhero if I do it for myself.”

“Well, don’t do it for me.”

“I’ll do it because I can,” she said. She’d dreamed of being a superhero her whole life. It’d just taken on a different urgency after her daddy was arrested. 

“Gonna be a while before I see you, then.”

“I included the phone charges in my budget. You can call me whenever.” It was harder to fake being cheerful now. She didn’t really want to. “If it goes good, I’ll have money to visit before too long.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. For all either of them knew, it’d be years before she saw him again. And email wasn’t allowed at this facility anymore. Phone calls were an inconsistent “privilege.” She changed the subject. “Gonna miss you.”

“Miss you too. But I’m proud of you. Do your best, baby.”

She bit her lip, and made herself smile, even if she knew he could see tears in her eyes. 

She’d save lives, use the abilities she’d inherited from him for good, and use the fame and respect from her position to do something about the conditions for people like her daddy. There were too many of them.

Opal was going to be a superhero.

* * *

Issac woke up with a crick in his neck and corduroy stripes imprinted onto his face, as the saxophone wail he’d trained himself to wake up to blared from his phone. He didn’t answer it-- didn’t need to. Martin was listening. He rubbed his face, squinting in the daylight he could have sworn wasn’t there a second ago. “Wh-- shit. What time is it?”

Martin didn’t need sleep. Which made him even more of an obnoxiously chipper morning person than Yael. “Almost breakfast time.”

“You let me sleep for two hours?”

“Why not? Your essays and applications were already sent. The work on the nanites can wait.”

The trashier gossip blogs called Issac a “super-genius.” Which was inaccurate. As the kid of an altered, his genes had been scanned before birth. Just like his biological sister, his genes were totally unaffected by the procedure that turned his dad into LodeStar: Leader of the Sentinels. 

Those gossipy blogs almost never even mentioned that his mom had a doctorate in biomedicine and an MBA. Issac knew who he took after. Dad might be the leader of the Sentinels, but Mom and Aunt Jenna had built the super-powered cybernetic limbs that had brought LodeStar to the next level. Had given him flight, and kept him in the field longer than any other superhero.

And now Issac was going to follow in their footsteps. The nanites he was making would be the game-changer for brain injury treatment. The ability to repair damaged neurons according to pre-made programs. They weren’t quite ready yet-- his micro-fabricator sat silent on Jenna’s dining room table-- but they were well on their way.

Issac did deserve to get some sleep. It’d be good for his brain.

He rolled over, trusting the amped-up microphone on his phone to pick up his voice, even half-smothered against the back of the couch. That was the only way Martin could hear him in here-- Jenna’s old apartment was a dead zone for the speakers and microphones Martin used for communication everywhere else in the family home. “Tell Mom I’m not coming to breakfast.”

“I’m sure that’ll go over well,” Martin answered from Issac’s phone. Why had Issac taught him sarcasm?

“She’s the one who told me to get my college application essay done ASAP!” he argued, flinging one arm out in a gesture exhaustion turned into a limp flail. His knuckle brushed crinkled paper shoved under the couch. He ignored it. He was used to ignoring all the little leftover reminders of why Jenna’s apartment was empty.

“About that--”

Issac opened his eyes, glaring into deep blue corduroy. “Don’t even start. You already sent them out. Spare me the lecture about ‘inappropriate subject matter.’ It’s too late.” 

As a synthetic intelligence with zero biological components, Martin didn’t have lungs. But that didn’t keep him from sighing. Issac interrupted Martin’s lecture before he even got going. They’d been over this the night before. And the day before that. Issac sat up, rubbing feeling back into an arm that seemed even less happy about being awake than he was. “We’re about to revolutionize like five fields of medicine and micro-robotics, Martin. If you think I’m going to just not mention that to colleges--”

Martin interrupted right back. “I was going to tell you there’s been a miscommunication. Your father’s voiced plans to join you this morning for breakfast, to help you with the essay. It seems your mother didn’t intend for you to stay up all night finishing them, and then send them off without either of your parents looking them over.”

Issac blinked, then lay back down, and moaned his objection into a throw pillow. It wasn’t like Issac hated his dad. He wouldn’t keep his little display case of LodeStar action figures in his room if he hated the guy. It was just that Issac was stubborn and brilliant, and his dad was pigheaded and bossy. Pigheaded and bossy were fine traits for the leader of the oldest and most respected superhero team in the US, but it made for a lot of lecturing for anyone caught in a subordinate role like “son.”

“Four more months,” Issac reminded himself. He took a deep breath. “Just four months, then I’m getting the hell out of Dodge.” He gave in. Swung his legs off the couch with resignation. Mom had given up on banning him from all-nighters, but he was expected to show up at breakfast, come hell or high water. And he couldn’t be caught leaving his aunt’s supposedly empty old apartment. He could only get away with using this place at all because Martin was the building’s security system, and Issac had talked him into it.

Issac ran his fingers through his sleep-tangled mass of brown curls. He’d better get home before Mom asked where he was. Martin couldn’t lie. He could obfuscate with the best of them, but he couldn’t lie.

Issac didn’t know what would happen to Martin when Issac left for college. Issac was the only one who realized what Martin was-- not just an advanced, learning security system, but a genuine synthetic intelligence, the most sentient and complete in the world. Kept secret only because Issac could lie, and because Martin had pleaded with him not to tell anyone what he really was-- a person. Jenna had been gone by the time Issac had figured it out. And Martin hadn’t really been... this... before then.

Issac got up to wash the coffee mug he kept in here, unplugging the flash drive that held his data and shoving it in his pocket. He used Jenna’s old apartment as a refuge, but he touched as little as possible, and never left a mess. 

“Aren’t you going to be lonely when I leave?” Issac knew Martin’s code better than anyone but Martin himself, at this point. Martin was programed to be interested in, and invested in, people. In the eight years since his first activation, that imperative had grown into real social impulses. He sent Issac interesting articles and funny memes throughout the day, dropping them into his email when Issac was occupied or accompanied.

Since Martin’s substantial electronic “brain” lived in the central column of the Sentinel Plaza, and what passed for his “body” was 24 stories tall, Issac was pretty sure Martin would find it hard to attend classes or keggers. Issac’s research partner wasn’t coming with him.

“I can acquire phone lines. I’ll call you.”

Issac tried to lighten the mood. “What, are you afraid my dad will try to adopt you, and you’ll be stuck with his little speeches forever? You’re only eight, Martin,” he chided, wagging a finger. “You should have proper parental supervision.”

The joke fell flat, as he reminded them both that Jenna, who’d originally made Martin, wasn’t here to take care of him like she should have been. Issac set the mug down and headed back to the couch, but Martin’s tone was musing, not hurt. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that. If we conceptualize Jenna as my mother…Then really, as the other person who ‘raised’ me--” Issac stopped dead, not liking where this was going. “You could be reasonably be described as my father.”

No. Nope. There was so much wrong with that. Like how he considered Jenna a mentor, nearly a parent, and did not have a kid with her. Like how Issac was all of 10 when Martin was activated. Like how Issac didn’t want to be described as a teen father, even if the “kid” was a 24-story supercomputer with a smart mouth and an impressively nuanced understanding of neuroplasticity. 

Like how Issac was leaving, and if Martin was his son, what did that make Issac for going?

Damn it, he was operating on two hours of sleep and hadn’t had his morning coffee yet. He was not up to dealing with this. He tried to settle his breathing, glad that from here, Martin couldn’t detect Issac’s suddenly soaring blood pressure. “Don’t get mushy on me, twerp. You’ll fry your circuits with that sap.”

He grabbed his phone and headed out the door, back into the central courtyard, where Martin couldn’t answer him without being overheard. Issac wasn’t ready for that conversation.

* * *

Jamie poked her cereal unenthusiastically. Mom always poured her way, way too much. As if enough healthy cereal could make Jamie grow the way 16-year-olds were supposed to. Maybe make up for the growing her 15-year-old self had neglected. It was a hope Jamie theoretically shared, but she suspected any growing she had left to do was likely to disappoint.

Light streamed in through the bank of picture windows, glinting off a 24th story Chicago skyline, ricocheting off various gleaming marble and glass surfaces in her home, and poking her right in the eye. She squinted, tilting her head the other way, only to get a different ray bouncing off her dad’s bionic arm and into her other eye. Would it kill him to get some sleeves? She decided looking down at her cereal was her only safe option. 

He was 54 years old, fully old enough to have given up on tank tops. But, being age-stable, he looked like he was in his mid-20s, barely older than Issac. His curling brown hair hadn’t shown a single strand of gray that Jamie could see. He had proportions that bordered on ridiculous, with the top half of him forming a shape like a generous pizza slice with a head and arms. Granted, part of that build was due to the way his cybernetic arms mimicked body-builder arms, but that didn’t make Neil Voss look any less like a bizarrely stylized old-school comic book character.

Mom poured herself another coffee. Mom was elegant, if not exactly pretty-- tall and still slim at 56, with high cheekbones and perfectly manicured eyebrows. Jamie guessed she was considered reasonably good-looking for her age, but good-looking like a person, not like a cartoon. Mom had on a dove gray suit, heels that put her at or above the eye level of most men, and the graying version of Jamie’s fine strawberry blonde hair pulled up into a sleek ponytail. Her manicure and makeup were flawless, and carefully curated to be the classic versions of current trends.

Jamie had managed one of her brother’s old flannels over a baggy t-shirt, cargo pants, and ballet flats. She owned plenty of makeup, but she only wore it for special occasions, since she still couldn’t get close to applying it as well as her mom did, and there really wasn’t anyone here to notice or care. Her little kit was mostly an array of concealers in shades between paper-white and manila, and looked more like a filing cabinet than anything. She kept her hair short enough that she didn’t have to fuss with it much, but had at least tried to pick a cool-ish cut.  

Jamie eyed the coffee pot enviously as her dad poured himself another cup. Jamie was the only resident of the whole building whose place setting was never graced with a coffee mug. Just a couple caffeine-induced palpitations and everybody had to panic about it. “I bet I could work up to being able to drink coffee. I could start with mostly milk and a little coffee, and build up a tolerance.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even like coffee. You make faces every time I give you a sip of mine.”

Well, that was hardly the point. “Issac didn’t used to like coffee. Now he drinks like six cups a day,” Jamie pointed out.

Dad’s tone was so gentle, it felt brittle. “Issac doesn’t have the same sensitivities as you.” Jamie couldn’t get over the way he seemed to think he was breaking bad news to her every single time he brought up her health issues. As if, wow, gee, she hadn’t noticed any of them before now. 

Now that she thought about it, maybe Dad had been the main person fussing over her pulse the last time she’d tried coffee. He was probably at the heart of the conspiracy to deny her the caffeine the rest of the country ran on. 

She could almost swear he didn’t used to be like this. He didn’t used to treat her like a bundle of liabilities. He even used to say that Jamie was just like him. But it seemed like the older she got, the younger she looked to him.

Jamie went back to poking her cereal. Family breakfast was as close to a sacred ritual as her gentile mom got. Picking fights was absolutely not allowed. 

Mom handled the subject change for her. “Speaking of sensitivities, how are Talon’s girls doing? I heard Anna was in for chemo again.”

Jamie was content to switch topics. Altereds from every line-- every type of alteration-- were prone to strange, obscure health problems, since they had bodily systems normal people didn’t. Talon was on the Santa Fe superhero team. Like Dad, he had super-healing. Unlike Dad, he’d passed his superpowers on to his kids. 

Most of the other kids of superheroes had superpowers. And most of them were younger than Jamie-- young enough to think Jamie was cool just because she was a little older, even though she dressed bad, never went anywhere, and never did anything. Jamie moderated a little closed book-club forum for them, since a lot of them were as bored and isolated as Jamie was. None of them were allowed on social media. Most of them went to online schools. And a lot of them weren’t lucky enough to have siblings in their families’ bases. Jamie didn’t usually care about books for 12-year-olds, but it was a small, easy thing she could do for them. “I don’t think she even minds anymore. Last time she only stayed for about two weeks. She just saved up a few shows to marathon and finished the book club book early.” Jamie sincerely tried not to be envious of a sick 12-year-old. But Anna bounced back from cancer and chemotherapy faster than Jamie could shake a stomach flu. 

Mom and dad both shook their heads, frowning. Mom tapped her plum-colored nails on the white marble of the kitchen peninsula while dad tried to reorganize the universe by frowning, with superhuman strength, at his fork. “Thank G-d you and Issac are healthy.” 

Jamie heard that a lot. The assumption was that she herself would pick her current body over an altered version. She didn’t think anyone had ever actually asked her if she’d trade in generalized frailty for super strength, speed, endurance and healing, even if it came with greater risk of serious complications. She was pretty sure she’d get a lengthy lecture on thankfulness if she ever did answer a question like that out loud. She was expected to be grateful for her dubious good health. And since her wish to grow up to be a superhero had gone from cute to sad years ago, she’d learned to keep it to herself.

She’d tallied it all up, once. She’d put mom down as the responsible party for Jamie’s anemia, shellfish allergy, hellish periods, low blood pressure, absurd proneness to sunburn and freckling, overbite (now corrected), acne (sort-of now corrected) and nearsightedness (also now corrected). She’d placed the blame for the asthma, wussy stomach, mild scoliosis, low bone density, and susceptibility to gingivitis on Dad’s pre-alteration genes. Dad didn’t actually have to deal with any of those things anymore, though. Which was why Mom was now Jamie’s favorite. Whether that was fair or not.

Her brother Issac had gotten acne and a cross-bite. Science had saved him from the acne better than it had saved her, and could have saved him from the cross-bite if he wasn’t a baby about going to the freaking dentist.

Dad patted Jamie’s shoulder, light enough to be an insult to Jamie’s ability to sit upright on a stool. He didn’t look at her, though. These days, he always seemed to be looking over her head, instead of directly at her. As if it pained him to have to look so far down to see her. He addressed Mom. “So, Tillman, where are you hiding my other offspring? If he doesn’t show soon, he’s going to have to wait for me to get up before I help him with that essay.”

Mom made a face. They’d been divorced since Jamie was less than two years old, but they were a lot closer than most divorced couples. They sort of had to be, as neighbors living in the same high-security building. “Were you up all night again?” 

“Justice never sleeps,” Dad quipped back halfheartedly. He did look a little rumpled, and his eyes were bloodshot. A little strained, now that she looked closer. Which was odd enough to be interesting. They hadn’t had anything more than a two-day mission in months. Why should he be worn out enough for it to show? He’d seemed OK on TV yesterday, during that interview.

MARTIN interrupted. “Mr. Voss, Dr. Tillman. I have just received a direct communication from Secretary Bridgewater asking me to inform you that he intends to come to the residential floors of the Plaza shortly to speak with you and the other Sentinels.”

Jamie choked on her cereal. The head of the Altered Persons Bureau did not make house calls. Jamie didn’t think he’d ever even been to Sentinel Plaza, even though 20 of its 24 floors were APB offices. He worked out of the DC branch. Yael hadn’t ever even met him, and he was xyr uncle. He was like the Wizard of Oz-- invoked and referenced, but never seen. She managed not to drown in her breakfast and cleared her voice for action “Why?”

“He declined to provide that information,” MARTIN intoned.

“He wanted me to be there?” Mom clarified, glass halfway to her mouth.

“You were specifically requested, yes.” 

It was rudely last-minute, and Mom had a medical technologies conglomerate to run, so Jamie expected concern or irritation. She didn’t expect the amount of alarm on both her parents’ faces, or Dad’s furiously muttered “Shit,” as he started to get up. “MARTIN, tell Drew and Solomon to come over--”

This was the sort of chance Jamie had been waiting for. An opportunity to take a stand.

“I’ll get Issac!” Jamie volunteered, jumping off her bar stool. She knew what happened next. Something was happening, so she, Yael, and Issac would be shunted off to some obscure corner of the residential parts of the tower and told to stay put.

She bolted down the hallway, trusting that her parents’ interest in discussing this without her there would keep them from wondering why she was in such a hurry to get Issac. She’d get Yael, next. If she was going to turn this into an opportunity, she’d need backup, and fast. 

She banged her knuckles on Issac’s door hard enough that they stung. No answer, but the shower was off. “Issac!” she called through the door, banging it again. 

The door swung open on an damp and irritated older brother. His usual trendy outfit was marred by the way his ubiquitous headphones-- placed just behind his ears, but blaring jazz music-- made his wet hair stick up like the scruff on a poorly-manicured purse dog. He looked exhausted, which meant he looked cranky. “You look like crap,” Jamie commented.

Issac raised an eyebrow. “Thanks. Hi. What do you want? I’ll be at breakfast in a second.”

“Secretary Bridgewater is gonna be here ‘shortly.’ Here in the house levels.”

Issac frowned. “Yael’s uncle?” 

Jamie nodded. She could just about see the gears turning in Issac's head. “And he wanted to talk to Mom and the whole team, so you know it’s something important. He wouldn’t come all this way to talk about finances.”

Issac frowned. “He didn’t say why?” 

She shook her head. “But Mom. Which means finances, huge policy change, a threat to the tower, or--”

“Or one of us,” Issac finished. Jamie nodded. That was why they had to act fast. “Shit,” he muttered. “OK. Go…tell Yael or something.”

He moved to shut the door. She shoved her foot into the doorway-- and winced, as reclaimed wood connected with thin canvas shoe-- but it kept him from closing the door. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Issac! This just makes it even more important that we stick together. If this might be about us, we deserve to know what’s going on. And you know they’re going to try to shut us up in Dad’s apartment or something--”

He paused, curious but hesitant. “Yeah. They do that.”

Jamie warmed to the subject immediately. She hadn’t been sure Issac would hear her out, but she knew he hated information being kept away from him. And there was a lot of information being kept away from them. Like where, exactly, Jenna had gone. Like where their own dad was, when he’d sometimes disappear for a day or two without the team and without appearing on tv. Like how nobody would talk about Yael’s parentage, even though they all already knew! That last one was especially insulting. “So we should do something about it! Take a stand. Right?”

For a moment, she thought she’d lost him. She prepared herself for another hurried pitch, but there was an extra spark in his eyes that stopped her. She remembered it from the Great Hanukkah/Christmas Gift Investigation of 2026 and the Puppy-Smuggling Attempt of 2025, plus a few other illicit escapades the three of them had pulled off or attempted over the years. They were mostly too old for that kind of thing now. She didn’t need to know what her presents were ahead of time.

But this-- this was worth breaking rules for. Especially if it really was about them. He grinned at her. “All right, Jamie. Way to grow some balls.” Jamie gave him the expected eye roll at his grossness. He punched her arm, and graciously ignored her minor stagger. This time, his suggestion was part of their conspiracy, rather than a dismissal. “Go get Yael.”

Perfect. If Jamie and Issac were in on it, there was no way Yael would sit on the sidelines. Jamie grinned back at Issac, then ran off to complete their team.

* * *

Yael's fist connected with Papa’s face. Xe darted backwards, out of his range.  At near seven feet tall, xe had far superior reach compared to his six feet, five inches. But he was faster. Yael noticed too late that xe’d been focusing too much on his fists, and he’d snuck one of his legs behind xyr. A sweep and a shove, and Yael was flying backwards across the room.

Xe hit the ground in a controlled roll that only stung for a second, and was back up, fists ready, in one racing heartbeat. Dust motes swirled frantically in the morning light between them. Yael was relieved to see a grin on his face. Xe laughed at1717 xyr own mistake to distract him from the few spots of glossy gunmetal gray xe’d felt seep out of xyr skin the moment xe’d hit the ground. 

Sparring with the Sentinels was critical for xyr training. But sparring with Papa was sometimes more like a super-powered game of tag. It would stay fun, as long as he didn’t see those silvered spots. He’d learned to not freak out at xyr shape shifting, but any sign of xyr exoskeleton would grind the match to a halt, and he’d bolt.

But he hadn’t seen. For once, xe was thankful for the straight sheet of nearly black hair that xe usually resented for the way it looked nothing like Papa’s dark gold waves. Xe’d had it cut over and over again trying to make it fall even a little like his, but it wasn’t happening.

At least Yael's hair could cover for xyr occasional silver slip-up.

He laughed, because xe laughed. The booming sound echoed in the huge, empty training room. The others would just be getting up and having their breakfasts, but Yael and xyr papa had been awake for hours. Xe’d have to find Drew later and try to talk him into a match. At least with Drew, Yael had some chance of winning. It helped to balance the productive ass-kickings xe got from Papa.

Yael hurtled forward, but ran right into a solid, but not especially painful, punch to xyr kidney. That was a point in Papa’s favor, but he’d had to move in closer to do it, and xe threw a well-formed side kick at his stomach as he tried to get out of range. He was still too fast. But xyr foot at least grazed his shirt! It was close enough to a victory for Yael to crow a triumphant “Ha!”, bouncing on the balls of xyr feet.

Papa chuckled, shaking his head. His guard dropped to signal Teaching Mode. “That’s not a strategy, dove. When you’re fighting real enemies, I don’t want you getting hit just so they’ll get close enough for you to hit them. With reach like yours, there’s no excuse.”

Yael stayed in stance, but waved a padded hand airily, pretending that it was a plan and not a side effect of distraction. “No one heals faster or better than I do.” As far as superpowers went, xyr pedigree was unmatched in the US, and difficult to rival even on a global scale. Xe was the sole second-generation member of the Heavenly Rule line. And aside from xyr, there were only two first-generation members left alive. 

He rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t falter. “Oh, what I’d give to be seventeen and convinced of my own immortality again. Try not to take too much after me, princess.”

Yael hated that xe still looked for ways xe took after him. Still looked for any similarity in their features, even though xe knew they wouldn’t be there. Xe understood why they were missing. He called xyr birthparents his siblings as a mark of love, not genetic relation. They were from the same alteration line and had grown up together, but weren’t any more biologically related than Yael was related to Drew, or Neil. Xe could mimic Papa’s features, if not his colors, and had, privately. But he knew xyr face. There was no point in pretending they looked more alike than they did. 

It was obvious that everyone living in Sentinel Plaza knew exactly who Yael got xyr genes from. Not that any of the adults would talk to xyr about it. They always told xyr to talk to Papa, and he avoided the subject with the kind of urgency he usually reserved for avoiding machine gun fire. 

Xe’d given up trying to force the issue. Was trying to be patient. But xyr taboo exoskeleton and its ability to manipulate temperature and make ice out of thin air was way too useful to ignore in a real fight. And xe was 17-- adulthood was right around the corner.

Of course, the marketing team would want to riff off those powers for xyr superhero name and costume. Yael had come up with several superhero brands for xyrself already. “Mercury” was xyr favorite this week, since it was associated with temperatures and a highly malleable form. Xe’d even sketched some costume designs. But Mercury was more of a light silver color, whereas the exoskeleton membrane was closer to hematite. And there was already a Hematite out west. 

MARTIN interrupted from overhead, and they both dropped their stances. “Excuse me. Secretary Nodiah Bridgewater is en route to the building and is expected to arrive ‘shortly’ to converse with the Sentinels and Dr. Tillman.”

Yael gaped at the ceiling. 

“What?” Papa croaked in a tone that ripped xyr attention from the ceiling to him. His expression was filled with an intense, intimate fear. His eyes flicked to xyr, giving him away. He only lingered on xyr for a moment, but Yael felt exposed to the spine as xe saw him catalog the gap where their family resemblance should be.

His voice snagged between apology and command. “Stay here.”

That hurt way more than any punch xe’d ever buckled under. In one instant, xe’d been assessed, and come up short. “I want to meet him!”

Nodiah Bridgewater was the only other surviving member of the Heavenly Rule line, Papa’s only remaining sibling, and one of the only living people who’d known Yael’s birthparents well.

He clearly expected the objection, but was pulling off his protective gear without looking at xyr. “Now’s not the time.”

“Not the--?! This is the first time in my life we’ve been in the same building together!”

“That should tell you this is serious, and I need to talk to him.”

“Then talk to him.That doesn’t mean that I can’t--”

“No, Yael.”

Xe reached xyr hands out entreatingly. “I won’t get in the way, I swear--” 

He gave xyr a stern glance, with some unknown fear bubbling under the surface. “Stay. Here.” 

He turned. His broad back made a psychological barrier as solid as if he’d bricked xyr in. As he reached the gym’s door back into the central corridor, he nearly ran over a panting, flush-faced Jamie. “Oh. Jamie. Good.” He looked back down the hallway. “Where’s your brother?” 

“He’s coming.”

Papa nodded, sidestepping Jamie’s tiny body as she slipped sideways into the room.  Yael’s hands clenched to fists, and xe headed after him, but Jamie was moving as purposefully as Papa was, and xe only got a few steps before bird-boned fingers stopped xyr in xyr tracks. Jamie looked up at xyr meaningfully. She didn’t say anything until they heard the elevator ding its closed-door signal.

Xe growled and turned on xyr heel, heading semi-obediently to a bench and stripping off xyr training gear. “Why’d you stop me? Do you know who’s coming?”

“I only stopped you for a second. Issac and I think we need to show a sort of…united front. The three of us.”

“To do what?” Nodiah. Right here in the building. One floor up, with Yael stuck down here. Xe forced xyrself to slow down, or xe’d shred the glove xe was trying to get off.

“To tell them we’re tired of them excluding us from everything! We think Bridgewater is here because of one of us-- I mean, probably you, but--”

Xe stopped. “Me?”

“And they’re still trying to keep you from knowing what’s going on.”

“You think he’s here to see me?”

“Well, it makes sense. You’ll be eighteen in October, and everybody knows you’re going to be a Sentinel. He is the head of the Bureau that handles that.” That did make sense. And Nodiah might see every adult in the tower as some kind of parent to Yael-- that was how he and Papa had been raised, after all. Yael’s mind jumped over everything xe’d done in the last year-- or, no-- in the last few years, that could impact xyr uncle’s impression of xyr. There were too many-- and xe had no idea which of them he knew about. Did he know about the childhood wall-wrecking tantrums? Did he know xe had defended Issac when they were kidnapped three years ago? Did he know how? 

Issac appeared, damp, disheveled, and with one shoe. “And that’s my eviction,” he proclaimed. He waved a slice of toast. “Cold toast. One slice. This is what she gave me.” He took a bite of it, continuing with his mouth full. “What kind of parent gives their teenager a single slice of cold toast for breakfast?”

Yael sighed, spiking a padded glove against the ground spitefully. “One who wants said teenager out from underfoot right away.”

“Pretty much,” Issac agreed. “So are we doing this, or what?”

Jamie piped up. “I think we should figure out quick what exactly we want to tell them--”

Issac interrupted dryly. “How about ‘this is bullshit’?”

Yael bounced xyr leg impatiently. “We don’t have time for a deep discussion. Who knows when he’s going to get here?” 

“MARTIN?” Issac prompted.

“He has pulled into the parking garage,” the system answered.

Yael's breath caught. If xe didn’t get permission now, xe’d end up looking like a kid throwing a tantrum when Papa told xyr ‘no’ again in front of Nodiah. No good. “Then we need to get moving.”

So Yael got moving. Issac followed with long strides, and Jamie scrambled. Xe took the small staircase that linked the three residential floors, taking the stairs four at a time. Xe wouldn’t usually make Jamie scramble, but the window here was so small--

They came out to the top floor through the unobtrusive door between Drew’s apartment and xyr own. The top floor’s central courtyard was large, well-lit, and filled with plants. Doors to each apartment made a pentagon around the courtyard, which had a column of elevators in the middle. Yael only saw Neil, walking across. He stopped, squaring his shoulders, raising his chin, and adopting the look of someone ready to have an argument he didn’t want to have. So Papa had warned him, already.

Xe reorganized xyr body. Slimmed xyr hips, squared xyr jaw, flattened xyr chest out, and even gave xyrself a little more length to xyr legs and spine. Twinges of pain flared all over xyr body at the sudden stretch, but it was worth it to meet Neil looking every bit as strong and immovable as he himself was.

Neil’s voice was even, trying stiffly to smooth things over. “Yael, we can talk about this later, right now--”

Issac cut in. “Right now, you want us out of the way.”

Neil tried again. “Until we know--”

Yael interrupted this time. “Until we know what? Whether or not he’s my uncle?”

Drew came around the elevators in the center of the room. He was the only one left on the team who could show his age. And right now, every year showed. “Yael, fuck’s sake. Now’s not the time for infighting.”

Drew was the most reasonable person on the whole team. He was the only one left who wasn’t actually and directly a parent. Yael always thought that made him a little easier to talk to. Xe turned to him. “I don’t want to fight. But he’s probably coming to talk about me. And I want to be there for that. He’s never even met me-- why can’t I be there?”

Jamie spoke up unexpectedly, her voice thin but a little too loud. “We all want to be there, if it’s going to be about one of us.”

Issac’s voice wasn’t thin at all. Yael could have wished xyr strongest supporter sounded less muleish. “We’re staying.”

Melissa and Papa appeared from the Tillman apartment, completing the assembly. She spoke first, no anger or fear in her voice, only well-worn certainty. “No, you are not.” She focused on her daughter. “I thought you were helping out, not staging a riot in the courtyard.” 

Xe appealed to xyr papa again. Xe was running out of time and options. “It’s not a riot. We just want to be involved when important people are talking about us.”

“No. Now do what you should have done the first time.”

The words ripped out of xyr before xe could grab the strength to hold them in. “Why are you trying to hide me?”

Papa flinched. Even Melissa flinched. He knew xe’d seen it, and tried to cover it with bluster. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Yes, you do!” Jamie argued.

Melissa's voice layered on top. “Jamie, keep your voice down!”

Once Melissa raised her voice, it was all over. Neil and Melissa were arguing with Jamie and Issac. Papa wasn’t paying attention to anyone but himself. Drew was, for reasons Yael didn’t catch, arguing with Papa. No one would hear xyr words. Xe locked them down. Xyr questions were too hard for xyr to waste when nobody would notice. Xe looked down at xyr feet, squirming restlessly in xyr yellow boots. What else could xe do that’d be fast enough to matter?

Xe focused on not being silver.

A fast twitch of movement grabbed xyr attention. Jamie’d stopped mid-sentence, head whipping around to look towards the elevators and freezing in place like a rabbit who’d been spotted.

The elevator door opened to Secretary Nodiah Bridgewater.

* * *

Read the next chapter here!

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[inadaydream99]

Not In Love

PART 1 | PART 2

Fake dating, enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, BTS Taehyung/ V x fem reader

A/N - Here’s part two. Happy reading!

Summary: Doubts are raised and so are the stakes. It seems that your family aren’t the only ones that Taehyung needs to convince.

Disclaimer: this does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only.

Your foot taps anxiously on the worn wooden floor of the cafe, eyes darting around the room as you wait for Taehyung to arrive. Being a Sunday, the quaint little place is buzzing with life, a rich coffee smell permeating the air and feeding into the bright and busy atmosphere.

You’re not sure what he’s going to say. Not that you expect him to agree to play your fake boyfriend again. He certainly isn’t obligated to and you feel terrible for having to drag him into this continuing mess you’ve caused.

Although he did volunteer the first time… and that reminder has you feeling some hope.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you prepare yourself for the conversation you’re about to have as you spot Taehyung arrive, glancing around the busy cafe until his eyes meet yours.

“Is everything ok?” Taehyung asks as he reaches your table and slides into the chair beside you. He looks worried, his brows furrowed and bottom lip slightly jutted out as he waits for your answer.

You’re incredibly endeared by his concern, although you do understand that your text was vague. All you’d messaged was for him to meet you at the cafe as soon as possible and that it was urgent. You didn’t want to go into too much detail in case it deferred him from coming. This conversation must be carried out in person.

“My mom called this morning…” You inhale a deep breath. Taehyung watches you through large, concerned eyes, intently. “…and she wants to meet us for lunch tomorrow.”

You can almost see the cogs turning inside Taehyung’s mind as he processes this information.

“Us? Like me - your boyfriend - and you?” His unsure voice airs, pointing his index finger between the two of you as he speaks. “Huh…” he mulls when you nod, his gaze casting off to the side in thought.

The seconds that pass seem to drag, leaving you on the edge of your seat for his answer. Your hands begin to fidget with each other where they are placed on the table in front of you. But then Taehyung’s unreadable expression begins to morph into a sheepish grin.

“I guess I made quite the impression then.” His hand extends to cover yours, halting your fingers from their nervous movements.

You forget how to breathe.

“We make a great team.”

~

Taehyung strides confidently into the locker rooms, a proud smirk etched onto his face as he slugs his gym bag off his shoulder and it thuds onto the wooden bench in front of him.

He doesn’t normally like having to attend practice on a Sunday. But after his meeting with you, he’s been put in a good mood.

“What’s got you looking so smug?” Jimin is the first to notice the captains mood.

The truth is, Taehyung is unbelievably happy to be playing your boyfriend for a second time. After how smoothly your sisters engagement party went and how much he had enjoyed your company, he had found himself arriving home hoping for another opportunity to arise. And it seems that someone has been looking over him and granting his wishes.

He regrets chickening out of kissing you before he said goodbye the previous night, but even more so, Taehyung regrets pushing you away for so long. Particularly now he knows how well you are able to work together.

“I haven’t seen him look like that since he first started dating Elena.” Jin comments, the name of Taehyung’s ex snapping him back into reality.

“Oh yeah - he’s definitely loved up!” Hoseok joins in.

Taehyung rolls his eyes at his friends. He’s not in love. No way. He’s just enjoying your company and helping you out by pretending to be your boyfriend. Definitely not loved up.

But it seems that his teammates are sold by his unusual positivity, the entire room filling with noise as they all begin to share their opinions in one go.

“Hey!” Taehyung bellows, gaining everyone’s attention. “Has it not occurred to any of you that I could just be in a good mood?”

But the responses of his team make him frown.

“No.”

“Definitely not.”

“Yeah right.”

“Ugh.” He huffs. “Just get outside. Time to practice.” He instructs, walking out to the field with the rest of the group following behind.

~

Monday rolls around quicker than you want it to, bringing with it the dreaded lunch with your mother.

After receiving a message from Taehyung informing you of his arrival, you quickly finish getting ready before rushing outside of your dorm building. You find him leant up against the red brick wall beside the entrance, occupied by his phone.

Clearing your throat to get his attention, you feel yourself grow shy when his head snaps up and he lets a light “Woah…” escape his lips.

“I didn’t realise it was such a formal occasion.” Taehyung begins. “I would have dressed up more otherwise…” he trails off, looking down at his more casual attire in scrutiny.

Yes, you’d dressed up more formally than one would typically expect for a Monday lunch. But this isn’t just any weekday lunch.

Regardless of Taehyung’s doubt over his outfit, he still looks breathtaking to you and you know that your mother would never hold him to the same nit picky standards she does for you. It was made abundantly clear at the party that she took an instant liking towards Taehyung.

“Where my mother is concerned, there’s no such thing as overdressed.” You joke. “You’ll learn that in time.”

Taehyung simply nods, mouth still ajar. He’s not sure what catches his attention more, how stunningly beautiful you are or the fact that you insinuate there’ll be more times like this ahead.

Meanwhile, you are mentally cringing at yourself for your slip up. It sounded like you have expectations of more to come with your relationship. Which shouldn’t even be entertained considering this arrangement has already lasted far longer than it should have done.

~

Your mothers face lights up when you arrive. Greeting you both warmly as you approach her table. Your hand slips into Taehyung’s as you get closer, feeling him accept your fingers as they thread between his and squeezing your palm in silent support.

“It’s so lovely to see you again.” She directs towards you both, welcoming you warmly as you take a seat. “Thank you for joining me.”

“It’s our pleasure.” Taehyung beams, putting on the charm for your mother without a hint of hesitation. You have to suppress the shock of how smoothly he is able to transition from the Taehyung you have come to know to Taehyung your boyfriend.

“I must say, I am slightly surprised you turned up together.” You mother begins to laugh, making your posture tense further. “Your sister seemed to be convinced that you’d turn up alone darling.” Your mother directs to you. The way her eyes soften as she admits this makes you feel queasy. You know it’s all for the sake of your boyfriend though, she’s rarely this empathetic.

You look like a dear caught in headlights, frozen in your seat as you comprehend her comment. You feel Taehyung shift in the seat beside you, clearly understanding the dig from your mother and the apparent suspicion from your sister. No amount of faux care can trick him.

“Luckily we have evening classes on a Monday. Right baby?” Taehyung politely informs, managing to control the bitterness that begins to bubble in his stomach from your family’s clear lack of faith in you.

For some reason, he feels protective. Like he wants to swaddle you in cotton wool to protect your delicate ears. It hurts him to see someone else’s parents treat their own child with such ill intentions, purposefully informing them of snarky gossip from other family members. Your mother didn’t need to share your sisters doubts about your relationship. But, either way, Taehyung will not stand for it as long as he is around.

You’re still yet to speak up, forcing yourself to be occupied by the menu as a way to evade the topic of conversation.

You’re incredibly thankful, once again, for Taehyung always sticking up for you. He seems to have noticed fairly quickly that your mother wouldn’t dare question him about your relationship or argue back with him. And in thanks to him, you decide you need to say something to move the conversation onto a more lighthearted topic, adamant on raising above your mothers quip.

“Everything sounds delicious!” You overly enthuse. “Anything taking your fancy Tae?”

Finally tearing your gaze from the menu, you peer innocently towards him.

“Oh I’ve got my eye on something.” He smirks, confidently staring at you.

Whether he is speaking the truth or over-playing the part for the sake of being believable, you’re unsure. All you know is that you are affected by him dramatically.

In all honesty, you feel so stupid for ever thinking that your mother wanted lunch with you because she had taken a genuine interest in your life. It seems that, as always, Ruby is still the one that rules your parents love and support.

Although, you will admit that having Taehyung beside you makes it a million times more bearable. The irony of it all when he’s the one that used to pick on you and make unnecessary comments. Now he’s the one protecting you from them instead.

The remainder of lunch passes uneventfully, which you are thankful for. Taehyung continued to make a show of his affection towards you, and you had fed into it for the sake of believability. However, it’s on the walk back to campus that you notice something is plaguing him.

“Thank you for helping me again.” You voice, a little unsure how to break the silence between you. Taehyung’s stoic expression makes you nervous. He’s intimidating when he’s mad and, unlike before all of this fake relationship when you wouldn’t have cared much, you feel guilty.

“What did your sister say to you at the party that made you turn ill?” He’s stern, the abruptness of his tone making you shudder. You had no idea he’d even noticed your conversation with Ruby. Wasn’t he too preoccupied by your cousins children?

Your mind flashes back to that moment, her words echoing in your head again. He understands you more than even myself… you’re made for each other…

“Just how she thought we made a great couple.” You force yourself to hold his eye contact, worried smile etched onto your face. You’re technically not lying, just not giving away the whole truth. But you fear Taehyung can tell there’s more than you let on.

He’s sure of it.

“And?…” He presses, knowing that you’ll cave in under the pressure. He doesn’t like having to force you to tell him things, but right now it feels necessary.

“Well… it wasn’t really what she said.” You’re cautious. “More how it made me feel.”

By this point, you’ve reached the entrance to your building. However, Taehyung has made no attempt to let you off just because you’ve reached home. No. If anything, it’s making him more persistent.

“How did it make you feel?” He steps up to you. It’s almost torture how close his body is to yours, merely a hairs breadth away but not touching; skin ghosting skin. It makes you weak for him and he knows it.

You want to blurt everything out. How safe you feel when he’s around and how everything seems a little bit brighter because of his presence. How, when he’s gone, you miss him almost immediately and find yourself fantasising about what it would be like to invite him up to your small room, to have him hold you for the sake of wanting to, not because he has to.

“I felt like I wasn’t alone anymore.”

You’re hoping that he understands without the need for any further explanation. That, despite having attended huge family gatherings like that your entire life, you’d always felt so alone until you’d bought Taehyung along.

You don’t expect the kiss that Taehyung presses to your forehead, his hands finally caving in and holding your waist. Even if it is only for half a second.

“Anytime you need me, I’ll be there.” His promise floods you with emotions you’ve never felt before. Maybe Taehyung really does understand you more than anyone else.

~

It’s been just over a week since you last saw Taehyung. With so many assignments to complete and trying to recover from the aftermath of your family, you feel like time has just flown by.

Of course, while you’ve not seen each other in person for a while, that doesn’t mean you haven’t had any contact. Quite the opposite in fact.

Everyday you spend hours smiling at your phone screen like an idiot, always as the result of receiving a message or stupid meme from Taehyung. He’s been the main reason for your laughter on a daily basis, finding his unique humour and, more generally, the way he views the world so amusing.

Simultaneously, between the pressures of classes and football practice, Taehyung has found your conversations the best way for him to relax. Where things concern you, he’s not the captain of the football team or the wildly popular ‘it boy’, he’s just Taehyung; it’s nice to be seen simply as who he is, rather than who everyone builds him up to be.

Once again, Taehyung has found himself hoping for another opportunity to play your boyfriend. Once again, he continues to scold himself for being too afraid to make a move on you; a real one. He doesn’t understand how he can want to kiss someone so much, desperately wanting to be able to call you his and, yet, he’s unable to fully express his feelings. Especially when he is able to do it while pretending.

But that’s just the thing. Pretending isn’t real. If you were to push his affections away while he’s your fake boyfriend, then at least he can cover it up with the excuse of committing to his role.

What is real, however, is the message that lights up his phone screen. It’s from you. And he almost can’t believe his eyes when he reads what you’ve sent.

You need him to accompany you to a picnic at the weekend. Orders specifically from your mother for Taehyung to attend. He doesn’t think he’s ever smiled as wide as he is now, typing his reply to you.

The universe seems to work in mysterious ways.

~

The picnic, as it turns out, is an annual occasion reserved for just your parents, your sister and her fiancée and you. Taehyung finds this out once he is already there. He supposes it’s a good thing for your mothers insistence for him to join because it indicates that she believes in your relationship enough for your boyfriend to be included as immediate family.

Sat on the old woollen blanket with your legs outstretched before you, you have found comfort in leaning your upright body into Taehyung’s side. Both of his arms are stretched behind him, palms on the long strands of uncut grass to leverage himself and you.

Your family are currently engaged in a highly competitive game of frisbee; it’s literally the only time of year they play. Competing in your couples, the aim of the game is to catch the other team out. If you throw and they miss, you win a point for your team. With you and Taehyung currently refereeing, the first game is well underway.

“I wish you’d told me it was just going to be the six of us.” Taehyung bows his head a little in order to keep his voice low. He doesn’t want any eavesdroppers, even though your family seems to be intensely occupied by the game.

“Would it have made a difference if I had?” You lightheartedly retort.

“Oh yeah, I would have run a mile.” He teases, body rumbling with laughter as your fist lightly thumps his chest.

“Oh hush,” You reprimand. “What happened to I’ll be there anytime?” You mockingly mimic Taehyung’s words from before.

With your head resting on his chest, you’re unable to see the devilish smirk that plays across his lips. And before you have any time to register what’s happening, Taehyung has grabbed you by the waist and twisted your bodies so you both fall back onto the ground facing each other.

You let out a squeal upon the sudden attack, the side of your body hitting the earth with a thud.

“What was that for!” You try to scold him, but with the coy look on his face, it’s impossible not to find it all amusing.

Taehyung simply shrugs - well, half shrugs - in response, the soft sounds of your giggles the only noise between you.

It’s now that you realise just how close he’s pulled you. How, laying together on the ground, your faces are only a few inches apart. You then feel the urge to reach your fingers out so you can brush the hair that has fallen across his face away. And with the way he watches you so intently, you become increasingly aware of your own heartbeat.

“Hey!” You both jolt, head snapping to find Ruby stood at your feet. She looks wound up. “You didn’t keep count of the scores.”

“Honey, give them a break.” Max approached her side, his hand smoothing over her shoulder. “You remember what it was like to be newly in love.”

Max clearly has a way of making your sister let things go, you’ve never seen her back down so quickly.

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s your turn anyway. Up you get!” She bosses, offering her hand out to pull you to your feet.

Reaching your waiting parents, you go to shake their hands, nodding affirmatively before you take your place, ready for the game to begin. You notice Taehyung finding your families seriousness towards a simple game of frisbee quite amusing. Clearly, no one has made him aware of what’s at stake here.

Bragging rights for the next year.

You hear Max count down from three and you spring into action the second you hear him shout go.

It’s intense from the offset. With your father making the first throw go so far you have to sprint to try and catch it before it hits the ground.

Luckily for you, Taehyung is fast on his feet. He manages to catch the frisbee with ease before running back and hurling it through the air in your mothers direction.

The game grows more intense with every passing second and so with it, does Taehyung’s competitive streak. He’s incredible, working with you to try and catch your parents out. On a particularly good throw by yourself, Taehyung rushes over to you, picking you up and spinning you around after your father was unable to catch it.

It’s the most fun you’ve ever had.

A few more turns are taken before the frisbee is sent flying your way again. It takes flight so high in the air that you know you need to make the highest jump you possibly can to catch it.

Zeroing in on the plastic disc, you ready yourself. Bending your knees and jumping with as much force as you can muster into the air.

“Yes!” You hear Taehyung’s deep voice cheer as you regain your balance with the frisbee clutched tightly to your chest. “That’s my baby!”

You’re amazed you actually caught it. But, somehow, your attention is focused more on Taehyung’s competitiveness. Anyone would think you just achieved the impossible judging by his reaction.

“Time!” You hear Ruby shout from the picnic blanket. And then reality comes rushing in.

You won. For the first time ever, you actually won the frisbee match. And it’s all because you had Taehyung.

“We did it!” You cry elatedly, falling into Taehyung’s arms as he gives you the biggest hug possible. “I’ve never actually won one of these before.”

“I told you we make a great team.” He reminds proudly.

You notice how everyone else has already retired to the picnic blankets again once you’ve pulled apart from Taehyung’s embrace. Grabbing his hand, you both rejoin the group with huge grins.

“That was the most intense game I’ve had in ages!” Your father praises. “I’ll have to put in extra practice for next year.”

You hear Taehyung respond to your father as you take a seat, accepting the way he pulls your body into his side and wraps his arm around you.

Next year.

It echo’s your mind, bringing you down from the euphoria of winning to torture you. Then reality sinks back in. That Taehyung isn’t your real boyfriend, that he won’t be joining your family picnic next year…

While your family falls into lighthearted conversation, pouring fresh drinks and enjoying the lovely day, you become more subdued. Folding on into yourself with each passing second until you feel like you can’t handle it anymore. You need some space.

“I-I’m going to find the restroom.” You suddenly announce, standing from the blanket and hurriedly walking away.

Taehyung frowns as he watches you leave. He’d noticed something was troubling you, but felt he couldn’t press to find out in front of your family, who remained oblivious. But now you’ve walked away, he knows he needs to go after you. He needs to make sure that you are ok.

~

“Why did you run away?” Taehyung catches up to you, stopping you from walking any further by grabbing onto your arm.

“I think I made a mistake bringing you here.” Your bottom lip quivers. “This isn’t right.”

“What’s not right about it?” His voice is soft, willing you to open up to him. He wants you to be able to tell him anything. He wants to be the person to make all the hurt and upset go away. “It certainly feels right to me.”

“We’re not a real couple Tae!” Your voice comes out more forceful than you intend it to, freeing your arm from his hold from the strength of your exasperation.

“So you think I should stop?” He looks hurt. “That we should just stop this?” His hands gesture between you.

“Yes! No - I don’t know!” You contemplate back and forth aloud before finally casting your sorrowful gaze onto him. “I’m petrified of my feelings towards you.”

“What makes you think that I don’t feel the same?” Taehyung’s question feels like a punch to the lungs, his quick rebuttal catching you so off guard. You stare at him wordlessly, allowing for all the things you said to hang in the air around you.

“Baby, how could you not notice how much I adore you…” Taehyung takes a step towards you, closing off the little space that separates you from him. He’s looking at you like no one else ever has, like you’re the only thing he sees, his whole world.

“How could you not see that I’m in love with you…” You allow his hands to find refuge on your waist.

“That it’s always been you.”

And just like that everything clicks in your mind. His constant watching you, all the comments he’d made to draw your attention onto him, sitting next to you in the classes you shared despite his apparent dislike towards you, his willingness to be your fake boyfriend, to interact with your family and make a show of his affection. Every pet name, every delicate kiss he placed on your skin, every longing look and lingering touch.

With the way you look at him, Taehyung is sure that your eyes hold all the stars in the universe. He knows this is his now or never moment.

So he takes the plunge, diving in head first, capturing your lips in his. You don’t think you will ever be able to find a way to describe how Taehyung truly makes you feel. All you know is that you want him to hold you and never let go; to kiss you and never stop. To be yours forever.

~ Epilogue ~

One year later

“Tae hurry!” The urgency in your voice is mellowed by your uncontainable laughter. You’re unable to keep still as you wait for him by the door, watching as he rushes about to pull his shoes on and grab his jacket. It’s comical how clumsy he is when rushing about. “My sister will never forgive me if we’re late to her wedding!”

“Ok, ready.” He affirms, grabbing your hand as you leave.

The last year has been a whirlwind. After the day of your family picnic, you finally went on a proper date with Taehyung, and it didn’t take you long to become official for real. It was at the end of the academic year when you both decided to find a place together outside of campus and from that moment onwards, you’ve continued to fall in love more and more everyday.

Then there was the matter of bringing a plus one to your sisters wedding. You’d teased Taehyung for days about how you were unsure who to bring as your date. But, don’t worry, he got his own back on you after you began to find the joke boring and actually asked him to go with you (despite both of you knowing he would be going all along).

Reality is, you couldn’t be any happier with each other. So maybe your stupid lie to your parents wasn’t so stupid after all.

[PART 1]

#bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts drabble #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts taehyung #bts v #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop x reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic

[burnwater13]

Grogu was looking at a vid of Bo-Katan while she was wearing her helmet and wondered what the heck was up with that paint scheme. He’d seen a lot of Mando helmets recently and this one was just different. He wondered why. 

Grogu considered asking his dad about it, but given that The Tribe knew very little about other Mandalorians, it didn’t seem likely that Din Djarin would know anything about it and then would come up with a reason for Grogu to do more chores or other boring stuff like that. Nope. It was too great a risk for too little reward. 

He also considered asking the Armorer, since they seemed to be spending a lot of time with Bo-Katan, but before he could, he was distracted by his dad calling him to have some food. Then it was too late. The next thing Grogu knew they were on their way to Nevarro and the Armorer had stayed on Mandalore. Dank Farrik.

“Hey buddy, the Marshal’s going to stop by. Help me clean up.” 

Din Djarin was obsessed with the cabin being neat and tidy and Grogu didn’t understand why. The only marshal who was going to ‘stop by’ was IG-11-M. Grogu knew that the former assassin droid was more likely to help him tidy things up than care about them being slightly out of alignment. That was all that he would be doing any way…putting things on right angles so they were straight and parallel to the walls. Uff. Maybe his dad was also part droid…that would explain a lot. Grogu giggled to himself and went to help his dad.

Pretty soon IG-11-M was there and the marshal and Grogu’s dad talked about a lot things that had been happening in Nevarro City and the area where the old Imp cloning lab had been. Finally, when the two of them were finished ‘catching up’, the marshal had turned to Grogu and asked him if he had any data needs. 

Grogu had been about to chirp that he didn’t really care about stuff like that when he remembered that he’d been curious about Bo-Katan’s helmet. IG-11 had been around for a long time before the droid had run into Grogu’s Mandalorian. Maybe it knew something about it. It couldn’t hurt to ask, right?

So Grogu chirped and coo’d his question to the marshal and sat back waiting to hear what the droid might know.  And waited and waited. Grogu was thinking that the question might have created a looping effect in the droid’s recall process which was just a fancy way of saying that he was afraid that he broke IG-11-M, which would be a big problem. 

“I am sorry for the delay. My central data repository had to index the archived data in order to complete the search for the information you requested, Din Grogu. I regret to report that I have limited data on the subject you requested but I will provide what I have…”

Grogu groaned to himself as he heard the droid speaking. Womp rats! If anyone was going to have the information he wanted, he felt sure an assassin droid would be the one. He chirped at IG-11-M to continue and prepared himself for disappointment. 

What he needed to have done was prepare himself for a long, long, long report on every little detail about the Mand’alor, her family, their history, their culture, their planet, the nature of beskar, why it seemed unlikely that a critter like a Mythosaur could survive on any planet in the galaxy and information of that nature. He realized halfway through IG-11-M’s report that his legs were falling asleep because he’d been in the same position for so long. That was unpleasant. 

When IG-11-M paused, probably to re-oil it’s vocabulator, Grogu managed to refine his question and instruct the droid to tell him about the Bo-Katan’s helmet specifically. 

“Ah. Bo-Katan Kryze was a member of a Mandalorian Resistance unit known as the Nite Owls. The painting on her helmet represents the facial structure and markings of a predatory avian creature called an ‘owl’. In ancient times among Mandalorians, owls were considered wise and stealthy birds who made almost no changes in sound pressure levels when they attacked their prey, making them virtually silent. It has been my observation that this symbol is inappropriate for most Mandalorians and Mand’alor Kryze in particular. Is that sufficient information?”  IG-11-M reported. 

Grogu nodded his head and chirped a ‘thank you’ to the droid, who then said good bye to his dad and left the cabin.

“All that to find out about Bo’s helmet? I would have told you if you had asked.” Din laughed as he picked Grogu up and set him down to have some dung worms and bone broth. 

Grogu chirped a ‘thank you’ to his dad and muttered to himself that he had certainly lived and learned that lesson. Ask the question first because you were going to have to do the chores anyway. Womp rats.

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin

[montcumbry-gaytor]

A Bullet with butterfly wings p4

A/N : I am back and trans issues presented themselves today because while writing this I am in immense pain, but I write anyways.

A/N : Pronouns are He / Him

A/N : FEM ALIGNED DNI

Warnings : F-Slur use ( I'm gay don't cancel me ) Death, Detailed impaling.

Chapter Index

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ───

"I'm gonna show you things you've never seen before."

Eric said, grinning at you as he shoved his hands in his pockets, his Crow cawing upwards almost as to celebrate, eyeing your door, you regretted locking it so soon, but too late to turn back know.

"If I die I'm blaming my death on you."

You said, eyeing up at him, watching him look at you with that same smile he always did.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

With that, he guided you around the quickly darkening streets, showing a array of things you haven't seen, proving his promise, but it's probably because you're rarely out of your house.

He pointed out a little corner shop, it looked a little freshly built for the rest of the place, which was soon explained as he set the place ablaze, which he continued to elaborate that he had a good reason.

"To be fair, all credit to you, me personally would not commit a crime over my spouses ring, but you're dead, and I don't think a trail can be held against a dead guy."

You chatted with him, occasionally glancing up to see him looking at you with endearing eyes, causing you to look back away in a panic.

You came to an old church, it seemed basically unused and weeds climbed up it's walls, perking up as Eric began to speak.

"Basically the story for this little place, the guy leading devils night and a lot of other crimes had dragged me here after holding Sarah captive—"

You spaced out a little after that, wondering if you've heard the name Sarah before, he hadn't said anything to you, you were a little confused.

"Basically, he got pierced on that little piece there."

Eric said, pointing at a little statue, which infact you could see a darker patch on the stone, you figured that was a stain of blood, interesting, you should see if that could be something you could clean in the future.

"Cool story but can we backtrack a little?"

Eric instantly locked eyes on you, responding to your voice instantly.

'cute..'

Brushing the thought off, you continued.

"Who's Sarah? I don't think you've mentioned them."

"Sarah's a kid Shelly looked after and we treated her like she was our kid, she's really sweet."

Eric said, smiling proudly.

"Her mom is taking better care of her now though."

You made a 'ah' sound and nodded your head, noting the information, it seemed like everything Eric had told you took a space in your mind, his own personal space in your database.

"She sounds like a nice kid, but if I'm being honest, any kid that grew up around you probably turned out alright."

He nodded his head, and kept walking, taking you past the church to a little graveyard, one heavily disturbed, the lid of the coffin kicked up stuck in the ground.

The other, however, was undisturbed, headstone clean, flowers resting on the bed of the grave, the engraving in the stone reading out "Shelly Webster"

You 'Ah'd at the sight, if you had known this is where you were going you would've brought flowers, you eyed up at Eric, who stared longingly at the headstone.

Your heart sank a little, but nonetheless you turned back to Shelly's grave, bowing your head in a sign of respect, you did this when you were visiting your grandparents grave you felt it was only natural.

"I didn't want to come here long, but I feel like you'd like to see it." Eric said, turning his frame to you but still eyeing Shellys headstone.

"I appreciate you showing me." You said, once again glancing over to him, only to snap your eyes to a pale butterfly landing on Shelly's headstone.

"Pretty." You hummed to yourself, slowly approaching it to get a closer look, the pattern on it's wings fascinating you.

Unbeknownst to you, Eric watched you awe at the butterfly, as if watching a child eye a toy from a window.

Lightly pressing your finger to the headstone and guiding the butterfly gently to your hand, you found it was easy to have butterflies crawl on you, you used to joke about being a butterfly king when you were younger.

Slowly gliding your hand up you turned to Eric, looking at him with a little bit of pride.

"Pretty neat, huh?"

Holding still as you looked at him, making sure not to frighten the butterfly.

"You've got some talent for that, I don't see many people holding those so easily."

He replied, you curtly nodded before guiding your hand up, the butterfly flying off almost as if it took the hint, you watched it fly off before turning back to Eric.

"If you couldn't tell, butterflies are my thing, they're one of the first things I picked a book to read about in the library."

You explained, coming back up next to him.

"Shall we continue with the tour?"

You asked, Eric perking up almost as if lost in thought, but smiling nonetheless and motioned his hand.

As the skies darkened and the illumination of the lights shone down on the street, and you two, he showed you multiple things he enjoyed when he wasn't dead, showing you places where his band preformed.

You listened, finding his voice calming as you walked, occasionally making comments or asking questions.

You felt at peace, for the most part, as you walked through eerie alleyways you felt more on edge, knowing Eric being undead and Off-putting to normal people, you'd hope that'd mean you wouldn't get jumped.

"I don't actually think I've been this far out, I don't do a lot of traveling."

You said, sneaking your hands into your pockets as the nights chill met your fingertips, you didn't know how late it was, but you felt more awake, not only warey of your unknown surroundings, but of how refreshing Eric's voice sounded as he spoke, and the blaring neon lights from bars and convenience stores piercing your eyes.

"I'm glad I could take you out this far then, it's a lot nicer away from the center of the City." Eric sighed, breathing in the clearer air.

"it is nice, but—" you started, finding yourself yawning before you could finish. "I don't think I'm built for walking everywhere."

"You seriously need to get some fitness in your life, you're gonna end up old and crabby otherwise." Eric joked, patting your lower back which made you arch your back on instinct.

"I do just fine sitting around all day with a diet of sandwiches and hotdogs." You said, shaking your finger at him, giggling at your own statement.

"What I need to get is a fucking watch, I seriously regret not having one."

You sighed, rubbing exhaustion from your eyes.

"I take that as a sign that you need your beauty rest?"

Eric hummed, taking you back the way you came, finding as it became later, he found himself eyeing everywhere, warey of his surroundings.

Coming back through alleys made anxiety bubble in your chest, seeing barrel fires with shady people huddled around it, eyeing you and Eric.

"I've got you, just keep walking and don't make eye contact."

Eric said in a low voice, throwing a arm lightly around you, keeping away from touching you but making sure you didn't fall behind.

You only nodded, clenching your jaw as air puffed out your nose, making pale clouds, you couldnt deny you were a little scared, mentally cursing yourself for not carrying a gun.

You felt Eric halt, stopping with him and eyeing up when you found a hand on his shoulder, a grin twitching at his lips.

"-Ey you hear me? What do you think you're doing coming around here?"

You heard, you couldn't find yourself turning around, only watching as Eric took off his coat and handing it to you, mouthing for you not to watch.

'why would he say that?? Now I definitely want to watch-'

"What are you gonna do you little fag? You can't do shit to m—"

Crunch.

You heard it, cringing a little at the sound, feeling Eric's hand back on your back, pushing you to continue walking forward faster than you were before.

"Don't worry, he's not dead, I just.. gave him a little something."

Eric said, clenching his hand, flexing it as it healed and felt as good as new.

You chuckled a little, laughing off the anxiety, you still felt a little antsy but you did not expect Eric to punch a random guy.

Eventually arriving back at your place, you unlocked the back door and slipped in, letting Eric in before you locked it back and began giggling.

"I did not- expect you to fucking punch a guy" you laughed out, kneeling over yourself.

"Ever see that before?" Eric said before laughing himself, grinning as you came out of your laughing fit.

"Best part of that entire tour."

You sighed out, sliding down the door and eyed Eric as he came to slide down the door and sit next to you.

You both sat in silence for a bit, feeling way warmer in the comfort of the library and each others warmth.

You looked over at him, taking a breath before speaking.

"Thank you for showing me that, I appreciate it, and making sure I didn't get jumped."

You sighed, your pale eyes meeting his as he eyed over to you, eyeing his black lips as he chuckled.

"Tour guide has to make sure everyone makes it out alive right?"

You hummed at that, meeting his eyes again, realizing how close you were you felt your face light up.

Feeling his breath brush against your lips, you pulled away and tried to shoot up from where you were sitting, pulling a excuse out as you began to push up off the floor.

"I do not need to pass out in here, it'll be terrible for my back-"

Suddenly you felt yourself get dragged back down, Eric's lips crashing on yours, it took you a moment to register that it happened and another to return it, leaning against the door as Eric found himself leaning over you.

Tangling your hands through his hair, you gasped in a breath as he pulled away, your lips tinted black as the face paint smudged onto you.

"Uhh.. hey."

You muttered out, still in shock from what happened, your face flushing more if possible as Eric smiled, chuckling out a light laugh.

"You're too cute."

He hummed, leaning back to kiss you.

'im not gonna get enough sleep tonight.'

A/N : woop, gay shit, they kissed, enjoy 🧍

#eric draven #eric draven x male reader #eric draven x oc #the crow #the crow movie

[ask-de-writer]

THE PRICE OF AMBER : Part 14 of 23

This takes place shortly after MASTER SARGENT (RET.) WARRIN’S HEARTHWARMING  

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

THE PRICE OF AMBER

Part 14 of 23

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

29012 words

New to the story?  Read from the beginning HERE  

© 2022 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Inspired by a bit of silliness shared with

@frostlass-and-the-gang

All   rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or   to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express  written consent of the author.

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Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Outside, the weather was fine with clear skies and but few clouds.  In the shadow of the large sunshade which was so placed as to give a good view of the graves of Arianne's mother and two brothers, were tables and comfortable seating.

As his King was taking his seat, General Falshort sniped, “So, you shame yourself before your dead family by signing a peace with those who slaughtered them?”

She smiled angelically as she returned, “No.  You are a dishonorable and criminal bandit who slaughtered my family.  By deliberate fraud, through false Notes of Payment, you robbed the ponies of your own nation as well.  

“This gracious King and I are conducting an honorable peace.  You have no part in this document but to follow the orders of your King and the peace terms that his Royal horn signs and seals.

“I wish the souls of my loved family to know that there are in Prance good and honorable ponies, contrary to the experience that you exemplify.”

He steamed for a moment, stamping his hooves in frustration!  He snorted, “Your signature is worthless because you are too young!”

It was Princess Celestia who stomped that line!  “She became fully authorized to create and sign documents when she was elevated to County Corbiestep.  Of course, if you really want her to not sign, Equestria will remain at war with Prance and We will be forced to keep these three provinces that she has won for us.”

Princess Luna laughed as she added, “We gave her permission to conduct this war as she sees fit.  As long as you remain a General, I have to wonder how much of Prance she will have to take before you sort out that you are incompetent.”

Arianne, Countess Corbiestep smiled sadly and pointed out, “It could be argued that you are correct and that I need a conservator to sign for me.  In that event, we remain at war for at least tonight.”

Turning to King Leiuee, she smiled sadly and asked, “Your Majesty, Leiuee, would you consent to remaining at war with Equestria for this afternoon and tonight?  We can sign in the morning.  I will be pleased to house you and my Royal Princesses in the interim.  I do have good apartments in my castle for such hosting.”

Looking only mildly interested, King Leiuee inquired, “And what would you do with this sixteen hours of war?”

“I regret that for the first time since I declared this war, I will strike five specific and limited civilian targets.”

Tilting his head in curiosity, the King asked, “Might I know more of them?”

Drawing a deep sigh, she told him, “They are four chateaux: one on the side of Mt. Bokenfel, one on the outskirts of Gaiparee, one at Seinnemouth and the last at Harkenhill.  Besides these, there is a three masted yacht anchored in the roadstead at Monfere.”

Falshort was snorting, “So!  You finally realize that some casualties will happen in . . .” he trailed off as he sorted it out!  “You can't do that!  Those are my chateaux and my yacht!  They are all that I have left after selling properties to pay off those wretched Notes of Payment!”

She managed a very good imitation of the General's voice and manner when he dismissed the death of her family, “Some casualties are to be expected in war.”

King Leiuee gave a lop sided smile as he nodded slightly but offered, “If General Falshort can keep a civil tongue, I would rather not, but I do indeed understand your provocation.  Can you truly strike that accurately over such large distances in Prance in so short a time?”

Her only answer was a confident nod.

He turned in his seat and speared General Falshort with a hard gaze. “General!  You will be civil to our hostess and all others here or I will grant her the right to strike as she has said, whether the peace is signed or not!  Am I clear?”

“But Sire!  If you allow this I shall be ruined!”

“You will be left as you left her.  Homeless, with nothing but ruins to rebuild.”  He gestured at the very pretty but solid castle behind them.  “She has done well.  Will this filly show you up yet again?”

The General looked down, lips pulled down at the corners, ears flat back. He pawed the sod with a forehoof as he grudgingly replied, “I shall be civil.  I was trying to find some way to lessen the humiliation of our nation by this event.  I choose a poor way to do so.”

The King nodded shortly to his General.  “That is so.  Oddly, in looking over this document, I find a most strange thing.  Rather than humiliation, it leaves the nation of Prance stronger, rather than weakened.  It requires an economic model that reinforces and builds our nation as a whole.  We gain far better trade relations with Equestria.  Our armies and navy are reduced but we are left with the ability to defend ourselves from agression from abroad.  Much of this stems from a few basic but simple monetary policy reforms that limit large scale frauds such as the Countess found in our provinces of Monatine, Graforest and Trerive.”

Picking up a quill and dipping it, the King quietly asked, “I do have one question that, in all the uproar of Courts and War, I never found the time to ask.”  He neatly inscribed his name and titles.  Carefully pouring melted wax in the proper space, he set his seal to the document and moved to give his space to Countess Arianne.

She too, signed and sealed document and made way for Princess Celestia. Princess Luna added her signature and seal.  Following that, both Princesses together added the great seal of their mother, Skyglow, Titan of Life Creation and Titular Queen of Equestria.

The document was laid, page by page on stacks of prepared parchment and reproduced perfectly by contagion magic.  Simply pouring wax in the proper seal areas produced copies of the seals as well.  The Royal copies and the copy for Arianne, Countess Corbiestep, Force Leader of Equestria's Army of Occupation were poured in red wax.  All the others, for archives and distribution were poured in black.

As the last of it was done, Arianne, now only Countess Corbiestep asked, “What was that question that you never got to ask, Your Majesty?”

“Why did you have such a concern for the populace of the conquered provinces?  I know for a fact that had my Generals conquered any land, they would not have worried so.  They would have looted farms for provision and any occupation currency would have been fiat paper.”

She returned his honest question with compassion as she told him, “Your Majesty, I did not treat them ill because, from the time that I took them, they became my subjects.  I did not know whether they would be mine for the long term or, as it has become, a short one.  My subjects deserve and get the best of governance that I can give them. As much as my subjects support me by taxation, I support them with sound economic management and fair justice.  That is how Fealty is supposed to work.”

The King smiled and held out his hoof to her.  “I was raised as a Prince in the Court of Gaiparee.  I was surrounded by nobles and other wealthy folk, all of whom sought advantage by many means.  None of that education that I received touched more than slightly on the lower classes of society.

“You have been a teacher who could not be ignored.  In spite of that, you have remained a good and gracious friend.  That sounds strange to say of one who has conquered my land, but it is the truth.  From my first call to you by Magic Net, I found a friend, concerned with establishing a proper and balanced relationship between our nations.

“One of the reasons that I assented to sign this without turning weasel minded diplomats loose to negotiate, is that over half of it are things that we talked over in personal calls.

“My Ambassador to Canterlot told me of a thing that you said in open Court before these, your Princesses.  That the outcome that you hoped for was to share a table and vintage with a friend.  To that end, I have brought some of Prance's finest vintage with me.

“If you will provide the table and meal, I would wish to make that come true.”

Arianne smiled widely and gestured back towards her newly built castle, “Good King, I happen to have at the ready a great hall and fine kitchens to do that exact thing.  I would be honored if they were put to that use.”

Princess Luna quietly interposed, “Our good Countess, We require your presence along with my Agent Dawnfire and my Sister Celestia for a private conference.  Set up this banquet and meet us all as soon as may be.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS ~~ NEXT==>

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Return to MLP Fan Fiction

#THE PRICE OF AMBER #Part 14 of 23 #MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer

[translations-dark-matter]

Living as an Extra in an Omegaverse novel

Chapter 92

I had a long dream.

I waited for friends on the playground swing, and I waited for my parents at the dining table. The situations were different, but they never came.

When I wished for something desperately, it wouldn't appear. When it was suitable, I could meet them often, but once it turned into something more, they disappeared somewhere.

I realized that it's not good to want too much. People, animals, even the doll I used to hug while sleeping at night, if I give my heart to all of them, they drift away.

Still, there was a lingering regret about leaving at least one thing behind.

If that were the case, wouldn't I have had hope? If I didn't give up one by one while crying, wouldn't I have been able to maintain my sensibility?

"Tae-oh, you appeared like a protagonist."

"What if Tae-oh becomes the protagonist? I'm just an extra..."

Se-hyeon's words became a hammer that struck the back of my head.

For the first time, someone considered me the protagonist, and he whispered it to me, making me realize that my thoughts were wrong.

Now I understand. It's not the world making me the protagonist, but rather me, Shin Tae-oh, considering the person I love as the protagonist. Instead of being sad when they disappear, I just need to hope that they live well wherever they are. If that's the case, even if I become dust, I could laugh happily.

As I woke up from the dream, I slowly opened my eyes. The events that happened before I collapsed and the dream mixed together, and my blurry gaze began to clear with someone's appearance. As long as the face I wanted to see appeared, nothing else mattered.

"After waking up, seeing Se-hyeon is so good."

Shin Tae-oh briefly closed his mouth at the splitting voice, then spoke again. Now, the only words left in Shin Tae-oh's mind were Se-hyeon and dust.

Shin Tae-oh waved his hand in front of Se-hyeon's eyes. Noticing that he was gazing at my face instead of his hand, Shin Tae-oh let out a sigh of relief.

"Fortunately, there seems to be no problem with your vision. And your personality doesn't seem different either."

It would have been strange if he had looked at his hand.

I was worried about any postoperative complications, but a lot of information came out with just a few words.

"Do you remember what happened before you collapsed?"

Shin Tae-oh brushed away the hair that was covering Se-hyeon's eyes.

"Do you remember where Se-hyeon put the photo? But by any chance, can't I move my hand?"

Se-hyeon's eyes moved upward, looking at his hand, and Shin Tae-oh hesitated.

"It's not a problem with your memory, but if there's something else, please let me know."

Shin Tae-oh swallowed a sigh at Se-hyeon's humble acceptance.

"So, are you associating the fact that I brushed away your hair with paralysis?"

"It feels so ticklish and pleasant to be touched, but I guess I need to know."

"Would you like to hold my hand?"

We can find out if there's a problem. Se-hyeon placed the hand that had touched Shin Tae-oh's forehead in front of him and shook it, extending his index finger as if telling a child to hold their mother's hand.

Shin Tae-oh didn't consciously think that he had to move when he realized that Se-hyeon wanted to hold his outstretched hand, yet he managed to grasp his index finger.

"It moves."

"Yeah."

The hand moves. As Shin Tae-oh glanced down at his body, lifting the blanket slightly, Se-hyeon crossed his arms and let out a dissatisfied sigh.

"We'll need to have a conversation once you're fully awake, but the likelihood of other issues arising seems low."

Although I already knew the progress of the surgery from the doctor, I asked Se-hyeon to hold my hand just to be sure. What's the big deal about brushing away a strand of hair? Tsk.

"Should I check your feet too?"

"I'll check them slowly. Instead..."

As Shin Tae-oh realized his position lying down, he smiled.

"I didn't expect to hear this kind of conversation at the hospital... I want to hear the confession I intended to make."

Since the accident delayed things, he now wanted to hear Se-hyeon's confession with a clear mind.

"A confession?"

"Yeah."

"..."

"..."

Se-hyeon closed his mouth as if lost in thought, and Shin Tae-oh waited. Se-hyeon not speaking right away must mean that various complex emotions came to mind.

"What I want to say is..."

As Se-hyeon hesitated, all of Shin Tae-oh's attention focused on him.

"I'm sorry."

When Se-hyeon's words didn't convey what Shin Tae-oh wanted to hear, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"That's not what I wanted to hear."

Feeling his nerves tighten, Shin Tae-oh tried to sit up.

Se-hyeon gently held him back with a soft touch.

"Now that everything is back in place, I thought all that's left is to confirm each other's feelings and be together. Is the location not suitable? Is it because I'm lying down?"

If that's the case, Se-hyeon lightly pressed his shoulder as if to make him stand up immediately.

"It's not that."

"But why did it change? It's pointless if we open our eyes with a relieved heart."

Shin Tae-oh couldn't hide his deep disappointment. However, Se-hyeon calmly wiped his face with a damp handkerchief without any hesitation.

"Besides, do you have any other pain right now? You've been in surgery for over six hours."

He brought out a separate handkerchief, gently dabbing Shin Tae-oh's lips as he spoke.

"It was different from a typical cerebral hemorrhage, so although there was bleeding, it wasn't in a critical area. The surgery went well, and for now, we just need to check for any lingering effects. Do you have a headache?"

"I'm fine."

As Shin Tae-oh tried to raise his head, he winced, apparently experiencing pain in his head.

"Don't move."

Se-hyeon gently caressed his limbs and picked up the intercom to call a nurse. Se-hyeon touched Shin Tae-oh's forehead to check his temperature, indicating that he had woken up.

Although a nurse would need to come and check personally, it didn't feel like he had a fever. While meticulously wiping each of Shin Tae-oh's fingers, Se-hyeon continued the interrupted conversation.

"It's not that my feelings suddenly changed. And it's not because I can't date you because I feel sorry for the boss."

Se-hyeon carefully lowered Shin Tae-oh's hand and met his gaze.

"However, my mindset has changed."

"It's not a change of heart."

Shin Tae-oh, who was about to ask what the difference between feelings and mindset was, realized the change belatedly. His eyes widened as he looked at Se-hyeon's composed expression, as if gaining confidence.

"You've started liking me more?"

"I meant let's not take it lightly."

Se-hyeon clearly narrowed down the scope of possible misunderstandings.

"Should we take it seriously, then?"

When Shin Tae-oh asked for clarification, Se-hyeon hesitated for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

"That's why I'm asking for some time to think."

Se-hyeon turned away, avoiding the discussion about why he wasn't confessing immediately. A nurse, who knows when she entered the room, took her place and began checking Shin Tae-oh's condition, causing the conversation between Shin Tae-oh and Se-hyeon to naturally fade away.

"The doctor will be here soon, so please wait a moment."

As the nurse spoke with a kind face and left the room, an awkward atmosphere lingered. They were both lost in their thoughts, busily pondering, when Se-hyeon carefully covered Shin Tae-oh's blanket.

"You'll think by my side?"

Shin Tae-oh picked up where the conversation had left off, and Se-hyeon tapped his dry lips with the handkerchief he held.

"Yes."

***

Jeong Mi-jeong looked at Shin Tae-oh's bandaged head with a relieved gaze.

"I'm glad you regained consciousness. You look... fine."

As Shin Tae-oh stretched his arms, Jeong Mi-jeong glanced over him and spoke.

"Take a closer look. I've lost weight."

As Shin Tae-oh tapped his cheek with a hand, Se-hyeon gently wiped his face with a soft handkerchief. Although there was nothing visible on the handkerchief, Shin Tae-oh felt touched by Se-hyeon's attentive care.

After observing Se-hyeon and Shin Tae-oh alternately, Jeong Mi-jeong nodded.

"You'll quickly regain the lost weight. Thanks to someone taking care of you."

"That's right."

Listening to the meaningless conversation between Jeong Mi-jeong and Shin Tae-oh, Se-hyeon felt that it was becoming unbearable. The conversation kept veering off track because of my presence, so she came up with a suitable excuse to leave.

"I'll go buy something to drink since it's not prepared here."

Se-hyeon sent a quick glance to Shin Tae-oh, indicating that she would be back soon, and nodded lightly in farewell to Jeong Mi-jeong. As the sound of the hospital room door closing echoed, Shin Tae-oh's expression vanished rapidly.

"Try to act fine in front of mom."

"Is it really without any aftereffects? My head hurts so much."

Shin Tae-oh pressed his temple with a pained expression.

"Make sure the painkillers are working."

"That's the secretary's job to handle."

Jeong Mi-jeong tapped Shin Tae-oh's buttocks, urging him to move aside.

"Because your head hurts."

Shin Tae-oh pointed to the chair beside him.

"Don't worry about that, just give me something to drink. Over there, in the fridge."

When Shin Tae-oh gestured towards the direction of the fridge with a grimace, Jeong Mi-jeong let out an exasperated sigh as if she couldn't stop him and walked over. Opening the fridge as Shin Tae-oh desired, she hesitated for a moment as she saw the assortment of beverages inside, then picked one and handed it to him.

"At least one of you has some consideration."

Meanwhile, Se-hyeon, who purposely left to give Jeong Mi-jeong some space, encountered Ha Jin-seong standing in front of the hospital room.

Prev / Next

[semperardens-juli]

My Imaginary Timeturner Ritual

Imaginary Creations intro Imaginary Creations series link Timeturner series link

Two index fingers pointed out and created a backward spinning motion, as if to wheel back Time and chant:

"Father Time, Father Time, please be kind. Father Time, Father Time, there's a wish to love. Father Time, Father Time, speak to Jove. Father Time, Father Time, please rewind."

The grandfather clock in Father Time's, or Janus's, study chimed seven times.

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.

A cloud of smoke appears in front of the clock, showing a vision of a girl calling unto Him with a request.

Janus clamped his hands together with elbows on the table and laid his chin on top of them, pondering upon the request.

Why should he turn the Time back for her? There were plenty of people with regrets. A man who was forced into an instant decision while negotiating with kidnappers that led to putting the gunman on the wrong mood and got his daughter shot. The woman who took a second too long to take action and shove her child away from the bus that would take the kid's life. These were accidents, that turn their life around in an instant and plunging people into an everlasting grief, a tragic life that could not be turned around.

The girl who made the request decided to self-destruct her Life over and over again. It was that continuous poor decision that put her where she is. She deserves the Hell she is living in.

He was about to wave his hand, in order to dissipate the cloud away, when a thunder crashed outside his window and the lights flicked off for a second. There was suddenly an envelope that appeared on the study table.

"From Jove," were the cursive words scrawled across.

Dear friend Janus, help me grant this wish. I gave life to this child ages ago. She is my creation, a child of Jove. I put her on this Earth when the Moirai, the ones you know as the Fates, warned me of the destruction of the human world we created. Constantly overshadowed and overlooked by her brother Ares, Bellona is plotting an intricate grand war that destroys all human life. This will not only be a war between humans but Bellona will make it a war between the Gods. With the Gods busy fighting, I cannot guarantee the safety of the human world.

I've insulted you and called you a friend in the beginning. You are not. You hold a power that could overrule me --- the power of Time. So I'll share with you a valuable information I found about the humans.

Human life is fickle and for so long it has been the Gods playground for our own hedonistic pleasure. But at one point, I've been studying them and there is something they have yet to teach us. We cannot let it be destroyed yet.

People told the myth wrong. I ordered Pandora to keep Hope in the box. Pandora locked it tight. What intrigued me was, despite this, over time, the humans have found a way to forge the fire of Hope. I checked the box and the Hope I created still lay in the box, never escaping. The humans created this with their hands or heart, I'm not sure which. I still have yet to understand how.

This child was my experiment, in attempt to understand. I need you to give her one more chance to try again. She is almost there. I birthed her with her mind swimming in the depths of the darkest situation and her heart chaotic and confusing, to see clearly where does this fire begin to grow. She failed this time, I know. But there is a spark I can't quite trace yet, but is there flicking.

I believe there is something of more than a mere mystery here, a power hidden from us Gods. Humans are not Gods. They are fickle. But with what power they forge the fire of Hope? Is there a chance they could overrule us one day? Is Hope something they can grow into something bigger?

Once I understand it, I intend to take it from them. You will have your share. No Gods know of this. Ares is too reckless. Athena do not have it in her to be so cruel to humanity. The others do not fit as well.

If Bellona destroy this world we created for them, it would take ages for mankind to progress and understand all over the creation of Hope. It would be like the Library of Alexandria again. The destruction of the current world will be destruction of information that helps us understand progress.

Bellona wish to strike in seven days. There won't be enough time for the girl and us to figure it out. You have seven days.

leave a little kindness

To the people who needs it: That flick of hope you carry everyday is coveted among the Gods, use it to right the wrong. You don't have to understand anything. Get up and do something with hope in your heart. That is it.

The Girl's Backstory

All I wish is to turn back the time and restart this Life as it is. This time, in the face of pain and tragedy, I push through and hang on to this hint of love in the air, not the romantic one, and see through the end. I live this Life again with a heart courageously open yet kind and giving to the messy world. I am curious rather than hopeless. There is a Life and all I care is about creating. I do not care if I die a careless fool as long as I don't lose sight of what's important in this Life.

The love I'm talking about, not the romantic one, is an exchange of kindness between each other. It is human connecting with each other. The love that I'm talking about is the magic of the giving selfless heart.

Why do I wish for a timeturner? Because at one point, I just let myself waste away when I see a chance for redemption clearly. Why? Because there was a cost of losing something. My regret is giving up because Life is worth living for.

#writing #journal #academia #dark academia #light academia #time #timeturner #juli-imaginary-creations #writings #diary #imagination #creation #father time #sandman #juli-timeturner #fiction #roman #greek #zeus #jove #janus #jupiter #juli-writes

[gengreys]

Cincinnati comic expo booths

#Cincinnati comic expo booths plus

Cincy Con poster, drawn, inked, colored and signed by Allen Bellman, Elizabeth Breitsweiser, and Mitch Breitweiser.Ellen and Mitch Breitweiser signed Captain America Patriot issues 1-4.Guess there's always next year :)Ĭonquests: Had a great selection of items that i purchased, here's some of my favorite ones :) Comic Book Trivia, I'm sure i wouldn't have won it but i really wanted to be a part of lol.The Jim Steranko Panel: I was so tired at the time that i decided to sit that one out, i'll probably end up regretting that choice since he was the biggest advertising draw of the expo.This year's oanels were an improvement from last year's and i expect them to do the same next year. This one kinda leads into the bigger guns argument but i definitely want more panels for next year.I'd recommend bringing in a few more for next year. Maybe my memory is just off but while the number of panels and booths increased i think artist alley either decreased or stay the same.Someone like Peter David, Chris Claremont, or even John Romita Jr to really turn the attendance from great to completely off the charts. As much as i enjoyed Michael Uslan, the Breitweisers, Moore and Bellman I really hope that Cincy can bring in a couple more big guns for next year.some amazing artwork in artist's alley!.My friends by my side the whole way through :).good selection and cheap prices on the books i got ( seriously i made a killing this year lol.).one of the highlights of the expo for me. The Elizabeth and Mitch Breitweiser Booth was very cool, i had fun talking with them and seeing them at work on random commissions.The members of the panel were very nice, humorous and brought a lot of knowledge from the art end of a comic that was nice for me to learn. The Captain America Panel, consisting of Elizabeth Breitweiser, Mitch Breitweiser, Allen Bellman and Michael Uslan was extremely entertaining.like last year, Michael Uslan's story of bringing batman to the big screen was even more enjoyable the second time around.So how'd this year compare to the last one? Here's a brief summary of the good and bads/future and some of my conquests of this year's expo Please excuse the indexing-friendly title.Another year another CIncy Comic Expo, I went into this year's expo extremely excited for it, after all my first year (and the expo's mind you) was one of the key events in my life that helped to turn me onto the path of being a comic book writer. I hate it as much as you do, but I know there are literally fives of people on the Internets who may want to know this vital information for the coming weekend. I’ll be at Penny Arcade Expo in Seattle this weekend.

#Cincinnati comic expo booths plus

I’m not keynoting, but I am on a couple of panels, and I will have a booth, stocked with all of my books, plus my glasses and my shoes, so I have them. I don’t have a ton of stuff, though, so you should probably drop everything you’re doing and go get in line right now. My schedule looks shockingly similar to this:Ħ-7PM: Panel – “Is Casual Killing Core Games?” in the Raven Theater. This should be an interesting conversation. I don’t think casual is killing core gaming at all, but I’m interested to hear from people who think it is, and tell them why they’re so very very wrong.ġ1:30-12:30: “The Wil Wheaton Panel!” in the Serpent Theater. I’m going to be honest: I don’t think a lot of people are going to come to this. There are two absolutely awesome panels at the same time, including Family Feud with Gabe and Tycho, and if the panel didn’t have my name in it, I would skip it, too. However, for those of you who will be in attendance, due to your sacred vow to never watch Family Feud, I’ll be reading from Happiest Days and Sunken Treasure, wand I’ll do a Q&A if there’s enough interest. We always have fun, and we float, Georgie! We all FLOAT DOWN HERE!) and it will be awesome. I reserve the right to bail on signings early if nobody’s there, and stay a little longer if that’s necessary. Please, please, please come introduce yourself if you read my blog, especially if you’re a regular commenter. It’s pretty awesome to have faces to go with the names. Wil: So, I’d really like to avoid a “By Grepthar’s Hammer! By the Sons of Morvan!” sort of moment, utterly failing my save vs geeking out at meeting you – I have a sneaking suspicion you understand this desire.

#Cincinnati comic expo booths

[bedchange73]

Making Money Over The Net

During nowadays speak with your loved ones frankly. https://vnptvinaphone.net.vn/cho-thue-wifi-su-kien-vnpt-ha-noi-internet-hoi-nghi-mang-hop-truc-tuyen/ to precisely the spare few who know you very intimately. Admit freely additional family members that work was long gone. No need for details. Just give the "headlines". One former client was embarrassed to be unemployed and waited until 10 am to retrieve the morning paper. He didn't want the neighbors to know he was out function. One morning he was greeted by every one out of his cul-de-sac. They counseled me in the same situation. This led along with "tips club" and campaign sharing. Google provides their own texting service with which send queries and obtain a response within a few moments. You can use it for directory assistance; translate words to other languages; check stock quotes, sports scores, and weather; convert measurements; and you may also check the status of a particular current airfare. To check out all the issues you can help with Google text, search Google's site for Taletid. Drawing and coloring is a product that every child would like. Mad monkey notepads as birthday party favors could be great little giveaways. Watch them make squiggles and doodles while on the colorful notepads in pure joy. Mod Monkey party favors honest safe music downloads can smoking the faces of young ones. Crayons also make wonderful party favors; available in a number of colors, tend to be safe thus are non poisonous chemicals.

If are generally familiar using a spread sheet, Excel can be a handy utensil. Start one early and you by no means regret keep in mind this. The old fashioned 3x5 index card works well, too. Either way, usually be certain keep an archive and sees. Later, you will avoid confusing times during interview and follow ups that are necessary later. Here just what I managed to do. I went to (Settings > General > Passcode Lock) and turned "Erase Data" to "On". When i backed up my iPhone to iCloud and to iTunes. And next finally, entered the wrong passcode 10 times. Try being as content-oriented and as comprehensive as they possibly can when making your internet business. You must be inside a position to know tips on how to present information within a shorter amount of time and energy. This way your customer can realize their desire to create a decision derived from your particulars provide event wifi service . Crowding your page or making it complicated added with will turn customers from these locations. It is nice idea have got a company card built with your contact information and career goal. Hybrid cars have seen the "print yourself" cards available inside of business supply stores. You may print off something plain and clear-cut at home-based. They come in micro tear sheets and are very easy affordable to make in smaller volumes. From the one client took mtss is a bit continue. She found small folding cards had been more being thank you notes. The touch, even so every a period of time. What your going for really depends upon your estimated usage percentage. In the event that you find oneself when using the iPad day-after-day for just about everything from checking the net to watching clips on YouTube, chatting with friends, to checking your emails, then you will want a 5GB or 10GB iPad Sim card only contract keep these is required. Should you will only use the iPad to test e-mail for browse towards your for about 1 hour a day, the cheap 1GB more your difficulty. If, you are unsure how often you can easily use it for, you ought to consider looking for one of this 1 day access Sim card only cards.

#cho thuê internet sự kiện hà nội

[muzanswaifu]

Tagging

Hello all, I have some unfortunate news

I have lost track of the fics everyone would like to be tagged in bcuz i forgot to write it down and it would simply be impossible to hunt that information down again, so instead I will give a brief index of the upcoming fics I have planned and ask that you all tell me which ones each of you would like to be tagged in!

❤️ - Fluff

❤️‍🔥 - Smut

❤️‍🩹 - Triggering/Non-con

*all Fem! Reader

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

Tengen&Wives x Neighbor! Reader ❤️❤️‍🔥

Ask: ok so I have a request but since I just started following I don’t know what you have and have not written yet so sorrry in advance 😭 but if you could can you write a story where the reader moves in next door to tengen and his wives and they are obviously attracted to her but don’t make a move cause the reader has a boyfriend but eventually the boyfriend cheats, tengen and his wives find out and invite the reader over to “console” the reader but they take the opportunity to act on their attraction to the reader and SLUT HER OUT thank youuu 🥰

Muzan x Reader ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

Ask: yk how in ep1 of the entertainment district arc, muzan was disguising himself as a little kiddo and was adopted by a family?

imagine reader being the family’s real daughter and muzan’s “older sister” but she lowkey hates him because only sons get to inherit everything

then she overhears him getting all pissy with akaza and knows he’s the one who broke the windows and stuff so she tries to tell the parents that there’s smth wrong with him but they don’t believe her LMAO

then later that night muzan goes to her room in his normal form and UHH PUNISHES HER?!?)?

tags would be somno, non-con turned dubcon, hate sex, degrading, etc etc ;)

Dacryphiliac! Sanemi x Bubbly! Reader ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

Ask: Can I request a sanemi x reader where the reader has a very bubbly personality, nobody has ever seen her cry not even in battle. Until one day sanemi sees her cry after a long battle and he gets off on seeing tears on her eyes and wants her to cry for him, he wants to be the reason for her tears, and the kinks would be daddy kink, slight bdsm, Dom nemi, nemi being a meanie to the reader, dubcon, and anything the author would like to add

Sweet Treat ❤️❤️‍🔥

Tomioka x Reader

Ask: Issa a request for our emo boy tomioka

So you know those houses with the wisteria crest where the owners are allies to demon slayers and like they receive them in their homes in times of need ... (Like in episode 14 when tanjiro inosuke and zenitsu stayed at that old woman's house )

Yeah what if the daughter of the owner is super hot and like things get steamy ya know😳

Big-breasted reader, seduction, Dom Tomioka, lingerie

Kokushibo x Wife! Reader ❤️❤️‍🔥

Ask: But anyways I'm here to ask about this idea that's been wracking my brain, guess what yandere Kokushibo brainrot that i can't write myself

Like this is after he becomes a demon- right. You're (le reader's) his wife that he left behind because of the whole jealousy thing. But he comes back to you and sees a kid who looks a lot like him. Kokushibo has those eyes that scare the living shit outta the kid (who I've named kokuma✨) which runs to get his mother (you). Which kokushibou was like- damn- i kinda regret leaving and shut his two extra pairs of eyes. To not scare you away.

The two of you reunite as your husband randomly shows up out of no where. And your kid is hella suspicious of kokushibou, kinda annoying him and trying to prove what he saw.

But all is revealed during a spicy night~

My Sweet Kitten ❤️❤️‍🔥

Part 2 of My LIttle One

Dragon Iguro x Mitsuri

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

Please tell my in the comments which fics you would like to be tagged in!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #kny smut #rengoku #sanemi #Tomioka #Tengen #Kokushibo #Akaza #Kyojuro Rengoku #Sanemi Shinazugawa #Giyu Tomioka #Tengen Uzui #Rengoku Kyojuro #Shinazugawa Sanemi #Tomioka Giyu #Uzui Tengen #Muzan #Muzan Kibutsuji #Smut #Demon Slayer x Reader #kny x reader #kny x female reader #kny x y/n #kny x you #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x female reader

[kaepop-trash]

Moving In

Summary: Early morning of moving in and your new friendly neighbour.

WC: 922

Warnings: none

-

She waited at the door, watching as four men hauled her new couch up to her floor at last. She winced at the grunts they let out from the weight. As they began dragging it closer, a corner accidentally bumped into the wall opposite her apartment. Grimacing, she let out a string of apologies to the men, pushing her door further back to give them as much space as they needed.

Probably a glaring disadvantage of leasing an apartment this high up was just how many stairs it took to get to it. She mumbled an apology again when the men finally began turning to bring the sofa into the apartment.

A soft sigh left her when the large object fit through her door without any hassle. Unexpectedly, the sound of the neighbour's door opening made her turn, realising that the bump was probably too loud inside the apartment.

The door opened to reveal a man in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, her gaze dragged up his wide torso to his face. She bit her cheek.

"Sorry for the loud noises so early on a Saturday morning." She gave the man a sheepish smile. He just shook his head in return, looking her over for himself before he leaned against his door frame.

"No worries, I was already awake anyway." He crossed his arms over his chest, giving her an amiable smile.

Her eyes settled on the way his sleeves stretched once his arms were folded, digging into the crevices of his biceps.

"Early riser," Her brows twitched in humour, "I suppose I'd have to encounter one of you eventually." She pulled back her growing smirk with a retrospective purse.

In response, the man's smile grew more indulgent, "Glad to be a first." He stood up from his position, walking across the hall in long strides before he stood in front of her. Her eyes slowly travelled up his frame, his shadow engulfing her.

"Nice to meet you, " The man smiled as his chin dropped to meet her halfway, eyes glinting like he knew what she was thinking— or like he shared the sentiment. "I'm Johnny." He extended his hand to her. "Your new friendly neighbour."

She stared as his hair fell over his eyes, making her swallow dry before finally looking down to take his hand in hers.

"I'm (Y/N). Your neighbour who usually sleeps through the day." She admitted with a shrug. He looked amused at the idea.

"I'm a surgeon so there are plenty of days when I do that too." He confessed with the same shrug.

"Oh? So you're the man I need to come to when the internet tells me my headache is a brain tumour?"

"Well," He winced, finally letting her hand go and making her realise that it was in his hold all this while. "I'm a thoracic surgeon so I'd have to refer you to someone for that." He clicked his tongue in mock regret. "But if you ever have chest pains," His pursed lips gave way to a smile that made his eyes glint. "Then I'm all yours." His, now glimmering gaze, remained shadowed by his hair.

"I'll keep that in mind. People in my profession are always at the risk of dying young. It could just be a heart attack."

"Chef?" He asked, nodding with real sincerity.

The confidence in the assertion made a short, incredulous, laugh leave her lips, an initial contortion of her face before the breathy laugh sounded.

"Close." She shook her index finger at him, "I'm a writer."

"Oh," He cocked his head like the information caught his attention. "Have I read anything by you?"

"That depends on what you usually read." She relaxed further into the conversation.

"I don't really read anything outside of medical journals. But it's a great thing to say to a writer isn't it?" He grinned, making her laugh a little more audibly this time and she gave him a nod. Johnny grinned at the reaction.

He looked up, making her turn to where he looked just as one of the men delivering the sofa walked up to her with a clipboard.

"I'll leave you to moving in. Let me know if you need any help." His words made her turn back to him. "Or if you want some company for your first meal in an empty apartment." He said with slippery ease, a part of her almost impressed by it.

"I'll keep that in mind. Though," She pursed a mischievous smile, taking the clipboard from the man when he shuffled beside her. She looked away from Johnny to sign on the form, taking her time to look back up. "There's something exhilarating about having your first meal alone in an empty apartment that's all yours." She gave him a dazzling smile that made him grin wider despite the covert rejection of his blatant proposal.

"I can't argue with that." He conceded, turning to look at the delivery man, "Right?" He asked, clicking his tongue when the man nodded in agreement. "See you around. Hopefully, the exhilaration gives in soon." He took a step back, giving her a final, gorgeous smile before turning back with delay.

When he finally shut his door, she turned to the man who looked in a deep thought interrupted by her.

"The apartment's definitely worth it." He said like he just reached the conclusion himself, pointing behind him into her new home with a nod of approval. She gave the man a grateful, albeit amused smile.

#nct #nct 127 #johnny #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #johnny drabbles #nct johnny #johnny fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct scenarios #kpop scenarios #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 imagines