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simplybakugou · 4 years

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Runaways

↝ After being forced into a wedding, Bakugou whisks you away from having to partake in the ceremony.

BINGO SPACE: Wedding

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!bakugou x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: fluff; swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1736

A/N: yes this is a @bnhabookclub bingo piece lol. when i got this prompt for bakugou (thank to the anon who requested bakugou btw) i was originally going to write out a whole wedding ceremony before i thought that would be boring imo lmao. so i decided to go with this concept! imo i don’t really like weddings so you can sort of see that through this fic lol.

credits to @bnhahcs for the beautiful colored bakugou cap!

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 08.23.2020✐

Suffocation. It was like your air was being cut right from you, like you were fighting just to breathe. All you could do was inhale and exhale big deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself, attempting to slow down your racing heart beating against your chest. But it was no use; you still were as overwhelmed as you were since the day started.

“Are you ready?” Yaoyorozu asked, her tone laced with excitement as she was overjoyed for one of her closest friends on her big day.

You mustered up a smile, the corners of your lips quivering as you attempted to seem merry. But Yaoyorozu saw right through you as she frowned at your expression. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so happy?”

“It’s nothing, I’m good.” A lie; there was nothing exciting about this day for you.

Mina creeped up from the other corner, fully dressed as she was more than ready to head out into the ceremony. “Are you scared about getting married?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s nothing like that.” The girls decided to not pry any further as they did their best to help you get fully dressed as well as help your other friends.

For most people, a wedding is one of the most exciting and exhilarating days that could happen in one’s life. Although each culture does their ceremonies differently, there is still something to celebrate as a couple vows to spend the rest of their lives with one another.

But you had other views on weddings.

You met your husband to be when you were both in high school in U.A. While Bakugou was in the hero course, you were in the support course and your paths would cross as each respective course would often mingle with one another. The minute you laid eyes on Bakugou, you were immediately fascinated. His quirk was impressive and you wanted to ask him a million and one questions just to understand how his quirk worked and the repercussions his body faces as a result of overusing his quirk.

With this fascination, you would pester him as you thought you were interested in his quirk until you slowly realized you were actually interested in him. Being as bold as you were, you decided to ask him on a date. You surprised him with your dauntless proposal so he shocked you by agreeing. Even more surprising, Bakugou actually enjoyed your company outside of the classroom and the rest was history as you had been dating ever since.

After graduating from U.A., you both broke off into your respective professions, Bakugou with pursuing professional heroism and you deciding to become an engineer and create support items for heroes. You were both idolized as the perfect duo by the media, your professions working hand in hand perfectly. And six years into your relationship, Bakugou proposed to you which you practically screamed out ‘yes.’

Like a majority of young women in committed relationships, you were ecstatic to be able to spend the rest of your life with the man you loved. But on the other hand, you and Bakugou both had mutual feelings toward wedding ceremonies: they were just a waste of time and money. Something about hosting a grand occasion to show off how in love you were just seemed like overkill and you had no intention of hosting one. You and Bakugou agreed to be registered as a married couple in Japan through the usual paperwork until both of your parents were strictly against this decision.

Your parents and Bakugou’s parents, especially his mother in particular, wanted you to have a traditional wedding. Leading up to the ceremony, you fought with your mother, voicing how you had no interest in partaking in the wedding but it was like you were speaking to a brick wall. Bakugou tried reasoning with Mitsuki as well, at least his version of reasoning, but this resulted in Mitsuki nearly bringing the house down from her rage.

So here you were, forced against your will to be officially married in front of your family and friends.

“Are you all set?” Uraraka asked as she entered the room. She gasped at the sight of you. “You look so beautiful, Y/N!”

You smiled gratefully at her. If there was one thing that came out of this whole thing, it was that you at least got to dress up for once instead of being covered in grease and sweat from slaving away at your day job. “Thanks, Ochako.”

The door opened and your mother entered, making you want to groan internally. “Ladies, please wait outside.”

The girls nodded, waving at you as they expressed their words of encouragement as they left. Your mother’s fake smile lifted from her face the minute you were alone with her. She proceeded towards you, smoothing out a crease in the front of your uchikake. “So you’re still acting like a child about this whole thing?”

You had to prevent yourself from rolling your eyes, not wanting to hear her start complaining about that, too. “You would be acting like a kid, too, if you had to do something you didn’t want to.”

Your mother snickered, grabbing your hand to practically drag you out of the room as the ceremony was about to begin. You froze in your footsteps, coming to a halt. “Could you give me five minutes? I need a breather.”

Your mother sighed, already fed up with your antics and the day had barely begun. “Fine. I’ll be back here in exactly five minutes.”

You nodded, letting out a sigh in relief as she finally left the room. You made your way to the large mirror in the room, frowning at the sight of your perfectly painted face. You readjusted your headdress on your head, poking your cheeks as you dragged your lips upward into a smile. It was so hard to make it seem like you were happy.

As you were about to make your way out the door and join your mother, the window slammed open. You whipped your head towards the source of the sound, confused to see Bakugou casually propped onto the ledge of the windowsill as he was latched onto the outside of the wall.

“Katsuki?!” You exclaimed, rushing over to the window without tripping over your feet. “What’re you doing? You can’t be here!”

Bakugou scoffed. “You think I was gonna let our dumbass folks make us do shit we don’t even wanna do?”

He leaned over, grabbing your arm and hoisting you up on the windowsill. “We’re getting outta here.”

Before you could express your disapproval for this idea, as not only were you going to be carried around in your boyfriend’s arms as he attempted to maneuver around with his quirk keeping you both afloat, your mothers were going to murder you once they realized the bride and the groom had left their own wedding.

“Hold on to me,” he commanded as he dropped down into the air. Your voice was caught in your throat as you gripped your arms around his neck, only his right arm around your back holding you as his left arm blasted you both through the air.

“You’re insane!” You screamed against the wind.

Bakugou smirked as he blasted through building after building. “Not as insane as you are for agreeing to marry me.”

***

The flight you were forced into taking was one you never wanted to experience ever again. Somewhere along the way your headdress had flown away and your perfectly pinned hair had been tousled and became a mess. You nearly puked at the thought of being lifted hundreds of feet in the air with only your fiance’s arm keeping you from falling.

“Y/N, open your eyes,” Bakugou chided.

You shook your head vigorously as your eyes were still screwed shut and your fists held onto Bakugou’s black kimono. “You’re trying to trick me, I know you are!”

“You idiot, we’re not even in the air anymore.”

You opened one eye slowly, peeking as Bakugou had landed atop of a building, both his arms now carrying you. You gasped as you released your grip from Bakugou’s clothes and you settled down onto the ground.

The sight of the sky painted in purple and orange hues as a result of the setting sun was dazzling to see. The buildings from afar were starting to light up, showing how long you and Bakugou had been basically flying through the air, not to mention your wedding was supposed to take place later in the evening.

“It’s so pretty!” You squealed, leaning against the railing of the building’s rooftop.

Bakugou walked beside you, looking out at the sight along with you. “Do you even know where we are?”

You turned to him. “I thought we were at some random place? Didn’t you land at the first building you found?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes playfully. “How are you the smartest woman I know but also the most fucking dense one, too.”

You narrowed your brows at him. “You don’t have to be rude about it.”

Bakugou smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brought your body closer to his. “Think a little harder.”

You turned to face the view once more, your eyes roaming around to find something that could help indicate where you were. Finally you located the arch with your alma mater’s name on it and you gasped. “We’re at U.A.?!”

“It’s about damn time.” Bakugou looked down below him. “A lot of shit went down at this place but at least I met you.”

You grinned, nuzzling your face into his chest as your makeup stained the fabric of his kimono. “You’re so cute, Katsuki.”

“I’m not fucking cute. I wanted to get as far as I could from that fucking place,” Bakugou said, taking back his previous statement as he spoke about the religious center your ceremony was supposed to take place. “I’m not gonna let our old hags tell us how we’re gonna live our lives, especially when we’re finally starting a new one together.”

You nodded in agreement, chuckling a little. “Guess we’re starting out our new life together as runaways?”

Bakugou smirked, looking down at you as he planted a kiss on your forehead. “I don’t give a fuck where we go from here, as long as I’m with you.”

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#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha bakugou #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines

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kimberly-spirits13 · 4 years

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Right Hand Man (Loyal to the End) Pt. 7

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Synopsis: You were like Talia’s daughter. The only thing was that you weren’t and instead, you had grown up in the foster care system and at a young age were taken by and personally trained by Talia. Along the way, you meet Damian and the two of you start to work side by side and eventually, after some time become closer and closer. However, when disaster in the league strikes, you face balancing an old, forgotten life as a normal child and the burden of right hand to the demon heir.

Note: I know that this is long and that there are a good number of time skips, but I didn’t want to make this into a series and just wanted it as a long fic because .... well because I can lol

Also, I didn’t want to have Damian so young in this so just go with it. I’m thinking maybe early 15 or almost 16 at the most. Idk I just don’t like writing for young Dami.

Warnings: mentions of murder, blood, brief mentions of torture but not for long

Word Count:1511

Masterlist for Series

From the day that you had collapsed, it had been a week. You could tell that the few weeks you had been at the manor had done some good with trust between all parties. Even Bruce was becoming more and more tolerable. You had met Brown who was exceedingly excited to meet you seeing as there would be another girl to level the boys when Batwoman wasn’t around. You and Damian both had started your mandatory six months of training before you could patrol which was going off very well on your end. And now, you were sitting in the living room scrolling through your phone as Damian sat next to you pretty much doing the same. There was suddenly the looming of another presence in the room which caused the two of you to look up.

“I have to inform you two of a gala that I am holding to raise funds for the Gotham City Orphanage. I’m introducing the two of you then to the public, Y/N, I will not be formally adopting you at your own request but you will be included as a family friend.” Bruce explained, “The gala is Friday, starting at 6:30pm. Clothing arrangements will be made and if you have any questions, you may ask one of the boys, Alfred, the girls, or myself at any time.”

Damian merely nodded and watched you fiddle with a golden chain around your neck. He had seen it before but had never questioned it. You always seemed to avoid showing it off at all. When Bruce left though, he asked you about it.

“Is that a new necklace?” He questioned.

“Uh, it’s from my mother and father.” You answered, “Talia let me keep it. I don’t really know why though. It’s kind of like my good luck charm as strange and naïve as that might seem to you.” You pulled from under your shirt to revel a gold chain with a diamond crescent moon and star pendent, “I don’t remember it well, however, I just remember my parents giving to me. The engraving on the back is a bit corny.”

You flipped the pendent over to show a small message relaying that they loved you to the moon and stars. You rolled your eyes a bit at the message but didn’t deny it made you feel closer to them in some way.

“It is very beautiful.” He commented, “You never wore it out. I hardly remember seeing you with it at all.”

“That’s because I always wore it under my suit. I didn’t want it to be stolen under any costs.”

“I’d be surprised of any fool tried.” Damian said making you chuckle.

“I wouldn’t, however I just wouldn’t want to be the one that stole something from me.”

After some time, you had gotten up to make arrangements for shopping with Brown and Gordon. It was important to have their input on what you decided to wear since they have been to galas before and you have not. This time, you were going to a different mall with higher end stores. This was where they swore you would find an outfit to wear. You didn’t doubt them, however you were dubious of whether or not you’d like anything truly.

_______________________________________________________________________

You were sitting at the vanity that was in your bathroom getting ready for the gala along with Brown and Gordon who were at the sink doing their own makeup. You didn’t want to wear any makeup, instead under their request opting for only some mascara. Even with that, you felt entirely different. Stephanie offered to do your eyeshadow but you declined seeing as you didn’t want to look ten years older than you already were. You told her that maybe next time you’d consider but today you just wanted to get a feel for how things worked as well as be as comfortable as possible. She understood what you meant.

_______________________________________________________________________

You and Damian didn’t leave each other side the entire night. Bruce introduced the two of you to everyone there and the prospect of talking to all the people was exhausting and by the end of the night, you were getting anxious to leave. Damian noticed you fiddling with your ring and looking for the nearest exit. That’s when Bruce brought you and Damian over to another man covered head to toe in garments that you thoughts to be more than your entire life over two times. The man smiled at the three of you walking over and loudly greeted your party. You smiled some and shook his hand, introducing yourself but not before getting a strong whiff of something that smelled like the drug they used to use on you in the league. Looking panicked, you searched for either an exit or a bathroom.

“It was lovely to meet you, excuse me.” You said quickly making your escape to the bathroom and into a stall where you immediately started throwing up.

Damian came in after you quickly knowing that he wasn’t technically supposed to be in there. He locked the bathroom door and went to your stall before knocking.

“Y/N.. are you in need of assistance?” He asked.

There wasn’t an answer from your end, instead he just heard faint sniffling which caused him to pick the lock of the stall and come inside. He hugged you from behind and held your hair back if you were sick again, the whole time knowing what caused your reaction. Bruce would have to not invite this person again if you were ever coming to a gala again.

“I’m sorry... I just can’t-“

“N/N, you don’t have to apologize, you had no idea or preparation for what happened.” Damian said braiding your hair back, “I’ll get you into the car without anyone seeing and you can go to sleep.”

You mumbled an agreement and Damian texted Bruce that he was getting Pennyworth to bring the car to the back. Damian picked you up bridal style and carried you outside and into the backseat where you laid your head in his lap the entire ride. When you got showered and asleep, he stayed since he knew that you’d be having terrible nightmares all night.

_______________________________________________________________________

You woke up the next morning with sunlight streaming in through the curtains in one of your oversized nightshirts that you had gotten with Gordon instead of some dress and heals. Damian was next to you already awake running his fingers through your hair. He immediately stopped when you awoke and sat up.

“How did you sleep last night?” He asked, “After everything I mean.”

“Fine... thank you.” You answered huddling under the covers some like you were almost trying to hide, “About last night, I don’t know what came over me. It was a mistake.”

“You don’t have to take responsibility for this one Y/N. I remember what happened at the league and I know for certain that you do. No one else found out about what happened, I know you take those kinds of things hard.”

“I appreciate it a lot Damian.” You didn’t really know what to say next but Damian started again.

“Y/N, I want you to tell me when something like that is happening. We’re meant to protect each other, not just you to me. I c-care about you more than anyone else, we’ve known each other since we were children. I don’t want anything happening to you for the sake of reputation.”

“I understand that.” You said still thinking about the last part he said, “I care about you too. I-I wouldn’t want to lose you either of anything like that.”

At that point you kind of wanted to just disappear. While you were typically a lot better at words than Damian ever was, today it just seemed harder. You glanced at him for a second to see him blushing. Thinking you said too much, you started to climb out of the bed to bolt for the bathroom to take a long shower.

“Wait, Y/N.” Damian grabbed your wrist, “I have to say this, just from what’s been happening between us recently-“

“Damian you’re killing me with this. I like you a lot, do you like me?”

He looked almost embarrassed with the suddenness of your question. While he was getting to that point, he wasn’t expecting you to be so forward to it.

“I do love you, a lot.” He said.

“Well damn it demon, kiss me finally!”

He chuckled some and did what you said, 15 years of shared trauma and memories attached to the few long seconds it happened.

“I’ve actually been waiting on that for years beloved.” Damian informed you.

“So, my name is beloved now?” You commented snickering some at his comment

“It is.” He nodded, “But, do you want to keep this secret for now?”

“Absolutely. Only if you’re in for it though.”

“I was actually hoping you’d say that.” Damian answered.

“Well my love, let the games begin.” You said getting out of bed and walking to get changed and grab coffee.

Tag List-

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#dc x reader #dc comics #dc characters #headcanon #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x reader #damian wanye #damian wayne imagine #robin imagine #robin x you #robin x reader #robin x y/n #teen titans x y/n #teen titans #teen titans x reader

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dontfeartherieper · 3 years

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another life

pairing: Agent 47 x Self-Insert OC

content warnings: brief kidnapping, not really anything else

A/N: Hello Hitman tags! How are y’all today? I’m new to posting around these parts, but have lurked for quite some time. I haven’t posted my writing in a very, very long time, but wanted to give it a try again! This is the first part in a longer fic about 47 and my self-insert, Tactus, and takes place during the Whittleton Creek mission of Hitman 2. Thank you for reading, fic is under the cut!

The smell of fresh baked cookies wafted its way to Tactus Ouliette's bathroom, and he paused in washing his face to take a good inhale. They were just about done cooling, he figured! He dried his face, then took the time to re-comb his mustache and goatee, not a hair out of place. His fingers lightly ran through his bangs, the rest of his strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun. Amber eyes looked himself over in the mirror and he decided to go change his shirt before taking the cookies over to Janus's house. He scampered up to his bedroom to search through his closet for something a bit more conservative, for the sake of the old man's sensibilities.

He briefly looked toward his old binder, still hanging in the closet where he'd left it. It had been a month since he'd last felt the need to wear it, this community had been more accepting than he expected for a small town in Vermont, but Janus was new territory. He hadn't spoken to the old man yet, so would it be better to put it on? Just in case?

Tactus thought it over, then pulled out a light blue button-down instead, turning away from the closet. No, he didn't need it, and besides – he was more comfortable this way.

When he returned to the kitchen to check the cookies, he was surprised to see his brother wasn't already helping himself to a few. After he'd gotten them all packaged up in some Tupperware he went to leave through the front door and found Montage sound asleep on the couch. Aha! He tiptoed over, looking down at his twin with a smile, and brushed some of his dyed purple hair out of the way of his nose. Let him nap for a while, he'd wake him when he came home.

Whittleton Creek was as vibrant as ever as Tactus walked down the steps of his porch. It seemed someone was having a barbecue down the street! Maybe he'd go check it out later? Integrating into the community had been rough at first, but the arrival of a pair of French twins had been the most excitement this neighborhood had seen in quite some time. Nevermind the fact that he and his brother had lived in America for almost twenty years now! Janus was the last neighbor he hadn't properly introduced himself to in the months since their arrival. Ironic, being that he was literally their next door neighbor. In truth, he saw befriending the old man as the last step to fully becoming part of the community.

A group of children ran past Tactus, nearly knocking him over on his way next door, but he managed to make it to the front door without dropping his precious baked goods. He barely even got a chance to knock before the door opened, a rather gruff-looking man answering. His eyes flickered past him briefly, seeing other men standing just beyond, and... did one of them have a gun? He was aware that Janus had caretakers coming and going quite often, and he'd seen someone that could have been family staying over sometimes, but a man with a gun?

“Hi, my name is Tactus, I'm your neighbor?” he said nervously, and the gruff man who'd answered the door noticed where he was looking. “I was just bringing over some cookies so I could introduce myself to Mr. Janus. Is... is everything okay?”

The man who'd opened the door looked him over, then looked behind him to make sure no one else was watching. Without a word, he grabbed the front of Tactus's shirt, yanking him inside and slamming the door behind him. Tactus was forced to the ground, the man holding his arm in a painful lock as another one came over to see what the commotion was.

“Who sent you?” the man asked, ignoring his cries of pain.

“I-I don't know what you're talking about!” Tactus replied, looking up in fear at the second man approaching. “I just live next door! Who are you people?! Where's Mr. Janus, he can tell you- I'm his neighbor!”

The second man shook his head. “You're so fuckin' jumpy, man,” he scolded his apparent coworker, “I know what happened to Cassidy has us all on edge, but... ah, whatever. Take him upstairs and throw him in a closet or something. We'll deal with it later.”

Tactus was hauled to his feet, his wrists zip-tied together, and practically dragged upstairs. Why was this happening? Who were these people around Janus? Nausea welled up in his stomach as he was tossed into a closet in a side room, plunged into darkness when the door closed and locked behind him. This had to be a bad dream or something, right?

While he still didn't know exactly what was going on, Tactus could at least hear some of the guards talking outside the door. Someone named Nolan Cassidy was evidently dead, and that had set them on high alert. Great. So because this random other guy died, they thought Tactus was bringing poison cookies to murder his neighbor with?! He got to his knees and leaned his head against the door with a deep frown, trying to listen for more information. Who was Mr. Janus, really? Why did he have such a heavily armed security detail around him? Maybe he would be reasonable and let Tactus go if he just told them all he was trying to do was be a friendly neighbor! That thought did nothing to calm the pounding of his heart in his chest, however.

Minutes ticked by, Tactus straining to hear anything more from the room. One of the guards had left, and he wasn't sure how many were still there. Then, suddenly, he heard a sound almost like someone choking – followed by a soft thud. What was going on out there?! He didn't have to wonder for long. The door to the closet was suddenly pulled open, causing him to fall face first into an extremely nice pair of black dress shoes.

The owner of the shoes looked... puzzled, to say the least. Tactus turned his gaze upward to see a bald man in a finely-tailored suit staring down at him with the most piercing blue eyes he'd ever seen. He was dragging the unconscious body of the remaining guard that had been watching over the closet door! Maybe this guy was here to save him?! Tactus was about to speak when the man hurriedly shoved him back in the closet, dragging the unconscious guard along with.

“Hey, wait a min-” he tried to say, but a gloved hand covered his mouth promptly, and the mystery man shut the closet door behind him. Tactus couldn't help a bit of an embarrassed flush with the way the guy was pinning him down and keeping his mouth covered, starting to struggle when he heard someone else enter the room. The mystery man put a finger to his own lips in a shushing motion.

After a tense few moments, the door to the room opened and closed again. Tactus let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when the mystery man pulled his hand away, looking down at him with a blank expression. “Who are you?” Tactus asked, “Are you with the police...?”

The man shook his head slowly. “No.” He didn't look like he was going to be all too forthcoming with information. Standing up, he turned to leave, and Tactus sat up in a panic.

“You can't just leave me here!” he said, holding up his bound wrists. “I didn't do anything, I just brought some damn cookies over and they suddenly threw me in here talking about being 'compromised' and-”

Again, his mouth was covered, the mystery man shushing him firmly. “Stay here. I'll come back.” With that, he left as quickly as he'd arrived, leaving Tactus alone with an unconscious guard and a whole lot of questions. He quietly shoved the guard as far back against the wall as he could out of discomfort being near him. At least it was a spacious closet...

It felt like ages passed until the mystery man returned. Tactus honestly thought he might have been forgotten, and when the door opened he let out a startled squeak. “Oh, it's you!” he chirped, getting onto his knees and looking up at the man in the suit. “A-Are you going to get me out of here, now?”

The man in the suit grabbed him by the wrists, pulling him to his feet. “Yes, but you have to follow my instructions exactly.” He pushed Tactus to the side, moving past him to the guard, and began removing his clothes.

“What are you doing?!”

“I need a disguise.”

Tactus watched in fascination as he exchanged his suit for the guard's clothes, even taking his gun and slinging it onto his back. When he was finished, he turned back to the frightened captive, and nodded toward the closet door. “I'll take you outside. Don't speak, just walk with me. You said... you're his neighbor?”

Nodding, he motioned in the direction of his home. “Yes. My house is the one to the right of this one.” He swallowed hard as the mystery man grabbed his shoulders to begin leading him out. Somehow no one seemed to question his identity, one man asking where he was taking the prisoner, but satisfied with the answer that Janus had ordered him disposed of. The thought alone made his blood run cold, and he stumbled over himself as he was taken outside into the garden. They exited through the back gate into the wetlands behind the house, and only then did the mystery man finally stop and cut the zip tie from his wrists. Tactus let out a sigh of relief, thanking him for his help.

The man simply nodded, and escorted him back to his home. “So... who are you?” Tactus asked, unlocking his back door. “That was pretty amazing, what you did... are you with the government or something?”

“Or something,” the man responded, glancing back toward Janus's house. He ushered Tactus inside when the door was open, closing and locking it behind them. “Your neighbor was not who you thought he was.”

Tactus huffed in frustration, rubbing the marks on his wrists. “Understatement of the century! But still... thank you for getting me out of there. I'd call the police, but they wouldn't believe me... and even if they did, they're useless.” He glanced toward the living room, hearing the tell-tale soft snoring of his twin brother. Still napping on the couch, right where he'd left him. “So what's your name, stranger?”

There was a tentative pause before he received a response. “Tobias.” The man looked out a window, seeing movement at Janus's house – and hearing yelling. “Your neighbor was a man with a lot of enemies... and they just found his corpse in his bathroom.” He pulled away from the window, looking back at Tactus with a frown. “Poisoning, it sounds like.”

“Wait- what?” Tactus's eyes widened, his face going pale. “Y-You can't be serious... p-poisoning? But-”

“You will be blamed for it,” Tobias continued, “Cookies, right? You escaped before the body was discovered. Someone is likely on their way over here now to eliminate you.”

Tactus felt like the room was spinning, holding his head with both hands. “S-Slow down, what are you talking about?! I didn't have anything to do with it-! Why would anyone want... you can't be serious!” He put a hand over his mouth, hearing his brother begin to stir in the living room. If anything were to happen to him... he'd never forgive himself. But this was all just a misunderstanding!

Tobias glanced at a family picture on the wall, then toward the living room. “There is no time to slow down. You and your brother are in danger.” He moved quickly to the front door, making sure that it was locked, then turned to see Tactus's twin sitting up on the couch.

Montage yawned, rubbing his eyes, only to jump suddenly when he saw the stranger in his home. “Merde! What's going on?! Who are you!”

Before Tactus could respond, Tobias pulled out a wallet, flashing them both an identification card neither of them recognized. “My name is Tobias Rieper, and I'm with the CIA.” He put the wallet away with a nod toward their neighbor's house. “Your neighbor, Janus, was a former KGB agent I'd been keeping tabs on, with suspected ties to a terrorist organization. Your brother has unfortunately been accused of murdering him with poison. I realize this is a lot to take in, but if you two want to remain alive, you must come with me.”

The twins were stunned into silence. Tactus's panic overwhelmed him, and he quickly ran to the bathroom to vomit, while Montage shakily got to his feet. “You're serious?” he asked, and the look on Tobias's face told him he was deathly serious. “F... Fuck... are we... are we going into witness protection, or s-something? How do I even know you're telling us the t-truth?”

“Right now, we need to get you away from here and safe. It's only a matter of time until they realize where your brother is and come looking for him.” He motioned to the stairs. “You can pack some essentials, but then we have to go. If you don't believe me, you're welcome to look out your back window.”

Montage swallowed hard, moving to the back window of their home and peering out through the blinds. His eyes widened as he saw what appeared to be men with guns in Janus's back yard, one of which was making his way toward their home. He quickly backed away, scrambling to collect his brother from the bathroom. “Tactus! Tactus, we have to go!” he called, putting his hands on his twin's shoulders. “Please, mon frère, we have to go! You can be sick later!”

After he'd had a moment to catch his breath, Tactus stood and followed his brother upstairs. They packed what few things they could into a duffel bag, then returned to Tobias, who was waiting for them in the living room.

“I'll take you to a hotel and call my superiors from there,” the agent said, “Walk with me and act natural. My car isn't far.”

The brothers nodded and followed him out their front door. Tactus locked it behind them, hoping it would be safe until they could get this all sorted out. Tobias took them down the street, where a sleek black car was parked discreetly on the side of the road. They both hesitated to climb inside, looking at each other nervously.

A voice from behind startled them suddenly. “Hey, where are you three going?” a man called, dressed quite similarly to the disguise Tobias was still wearing. “No one's supposed to leave, there's been an emergency.” When he didn't get a response from the three of them, he started getting irritated. “Did you hear me? And who are those two? What's going on here?!”

Tactus panicked, scrambling into the car and pulling Montage after him. Tobias wasted no time in getting in and slamming on the gas, and soon enough, they were tearing down the street. A loud popping noise startled the twins, and Tactus realized it had been the sound of a gunshot, the bullet hitting the car with a metallic clang. “Oh, god, he shot at us?!” Montage gasped out, looking out the rear window at the diminishing shape of the man who'd caught them. “He shot at us! Like- with a gun!”

“What else would you use to shoot at someone?!” Tactus snapped, then sank down in his seat, his hands over his face. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I- I'm going to be sick again.”

Throughout it all, Tobias was supernaturally calm. He didn't speak unless spoken to, and even then, his answers were short and not very helpful. He'd been assigned to keep an eye on Janus, got wind of one of his body guards being murdered, and snuck into Janus's home after seeing a mysterious figure climbing in through a window. The twins were in no state to question it, still trying to recover from the shock of being shot at. Soon enough the car fell into complete silence as Tactus and Montage simply tried to process what had just happened.

By the time they finally stopped at a hotel, the sun was going down. Tobias told them to stay in the car while he made a call. When they were alone, Montage finally reached over to pull his brother into a tight hug.

“I'm so sorry!” he choked out, “You were in danger, and I- I had no idea! I was just asleep while you were trapped in that house, and...”

“Shh... it's okay.” Tactus hugged him in return, stroking his hair gently. “It's not your fault. I know you would have come looking for me if you were awake, and... then we both probably would have been in that closet, eh?”

Montage pulled back, sniffling and rubbing at his eyes. “Mhm... but... this Tobias guy... does this seem on the up and up to you?” he looked out the window with a frown, seeing him standing a few paces away and speaking on a cell phone. “It's weird, right? A CIA agent just happened to be keeping an eye on our neighbor the day he dies... and you said he knocked some guy out and stole his clothes? What kind of government suit does that?”

Tactus didn't have a good answer for that. He'd been just going along with everything because he felt he didn't have a choice – being faced with armed men coming to his house to potentially kill him would do that. But now that he had a moment of calm to think, it did strike him as strange. “He showed us his credentials, though,” he said, “M-Maybe we should ask to speak to his superior? I bet they'd be able to provide more information.”

It seemed he wouldn't even have to ask, Tobias returning to the car with his phone in hand. He sat down in the driver's seat again, holding the phone up, and a woman's voice came over the speaker.

“Hello. I apologize, but Agent Rieper did not tell me your names,” she began, sounding a little exasperated. “My name is Agent Burnside, and I am his commanding officer. He has informed me of the situation surrounding Janus and your suspicion in his murder – however, he assures me that you were indisposed at the time of Janus's death. Of course, that won't convince his associates of your innocence.”

Tactus looked relieved to hear from someone else, leaning forward a bit to speak into the phone. “His... associates? You mean those guys in the house with him?”

“Them, and some other, more powerful people that he was in partnership with,” Agent Burnside responded, “Men who operate outside the law. Who won't hesitate to track you down and kill you for what they think you did to Janus. You have unfortunately become the target of people who will spare no expense for revenge.” She paused to let him process that information, then continued. “Agent Rieper will watch over you for now. He is the most familiar with Janus's network of allies, and frankly our most qualified agent to take care of you. If he is with you, you will be safe.”

Montage didn't look convinced, slamming his hand down on the car door. “This is crazy! You expect us to just listen to you? You could be anyone!”

“But they really did try to kill us, frère!” Tactus whimpered, “These people are trying to help!”

Agent Burnside waited a moment, then interjected. “You are right to be suspicious. It is highly unusual, and difficult to believe. I assure you, however, Agent Rieper can verify our identities for you quite easily.” As she spoke, Tobias opened his wallet again, showing them both what appeared to be an official CIA badge. When they'd both had a chance to look, he put it away again. “I will contact you again once I have made arrangements for your transport to a safe location. Until then, I ask that you trust Agent Rieper, and cooperate with him and the local authorities.”

Tobias ended the call, then got out of the car again. He opened the door for Tactus while Montage got out on the other side, motioning toward the hotel. “I'll get us rooms,” he said quietly, “Please come with me. I'd rather not let you out of my sight... just in case.” The hotel was a fair bit more expensive than what Tactus had been expecting, and much to his and Montage's dismay, only one room was available, rather than two. At least it was a room with two beds, but the idea of spending the night with a stranger... their discomfort was obvious.

Regardless, they followed Tobias up to their room, and as soon as he could, Tactus flopped down on one of the beds. He stared up at the ceiling, having had so many anxiety-ridden thoughts that when he finally had the chance to slow down, his mind simply blanked. Montage sat down on the bed next to him, watching Tobias with distrust. “...I guess my bro and I can share a bed,” he said, “This is... really awkward, you know. We don't even know you.”

“I understand.” Tobias sat in a chair in the room's breakfast nook, looking down at his watch. “I would offer to sleep in my car, but that puts me too far away from you in case of emergency.”

Montage's frown deepened. “Do you think they might have followed us or something...?” Tobias simply nodded. “Well... if anything happens, I guess it's better to have you here.”

Tactus pushed himself up, then headed for the room's bathroom. “I'm tired,” he said softly, letting his hair out of its bun. “I'm going to get ready for bed...” He paused in the doorway, looking back at Tobias. “And... thank you again for saving me, Tob... er, Agent Rieper.”

The agent nodded, his expression as blank as ever. “You're welcome.”

#agent 47 #hitman #selfship /#uhhhhhhhhh whats a good tag for my writing #dontfeartherieper originals

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veorlian · 4 years

Text

Idolatry - Concealed Carry

Note: Part 1/3 of the chapters on the Citadel DLC. Technically part of a much longer fic, but I think they stand up okay on their own! An everybody lives/nobody dies au except that I didn’t realize I could do that until 2/3 of the way through. Sorry Kaidan :(((((((

Pairing: Garrus Vakarian/Female Shepard

Rating: T for swearing and stabbing.

ao3 link

Excerpt:

Bullets rained down from the front of the restaurant, and Brooks let out a blood-curdling shriek. Shepard swore softly and dragged Joker down, lifting up their table as a makeshift barricade. A group of heavily armed individuals marched in, their faces masked.

“Tonight’s performance was brought to you by random acts of violence!” one of them shouted.

“Where’s Commander Shepard?” another yelled. “Find her!” They spread out through the restaurant, sending the civilians running.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two hours. I’ve been on shore leave for two hours. They couldn’t let me have an appetizer first?”

One of the mercs hauled away Brooks, kicking and screaming. Shepard grabbed the knife she had tucked away in her coat.

“Why do you have that?? We were going for dinner!” Joker hissed.

“Would you rather I didn’t have it right now? I have a few others, do you want one?” she asked, taking stock of the room.

“No???”

Full text under the cut!

...

The apartment was huge. Shepard was sure there were other, fancier words to describe it, but she sure as hell didn’t know them. An entire wall was a window, looking out into the night lights of the Citadel. There were walls wholly covered in green, verdant plants that she couldn’t identify. There was a damn waterfall. Shepard let out a low whistle, looking around.

For the first time in weeks, she could breathe. These walls weren’t closing in on her, they were too far apart. The ceilings were vaulted like a church, reaching up into the sky.

She wandered down to what had to be the living room (two giant couches, a fireplace, a grand piano??), and the TV flickered on.

“Shepard, good to see you,” Anderson said. There were new wrinkles creasing his forehead. She could hear distant explosions in the background of the vid.

“And you. How are you holding up?” she asked.

“We’ve had better days,” he said wearily.

“I know what you mean.” Damn, did she ever. “But why am I in this apartment?”

“I want you to have it,” he said, and Shepard’s brows reached her hairline. “I bought the place for Kahlee and I to settle down. Thing is, the longer I stay on Earth, the more I don’t want to leave. Figure someone should get some use out of it.”

“That’s...very generous. Are you sure?”

“It’s practical. We need you at your best, and you need somewhere you can take a break.”

“I-- thank you,” she said. “I’m guessing I don’t have a choice anyways?”

“Not even a little bit. Make yourself at home,” he said, smiling. “You take care, Shepard.”

“You too, Anderson,” Shepard said. He nodded and stepped out of frame. Marie replaced him. Her hair was more grey than black now, but she was smiling nonetheless.

“Good to see you in one piece, Jeanne,” she said. “I hear you killed a Reaper single handedly. Have I mentioned that you should be more careful?” Shepard grinned crookedly.

“Once or twice, maybe.”

“Apparently it bears repeating.” The affectionate exasperation was palpable, even with the light years between them.

“How are things there?” Shepard asked. Marie’s face became carefully blank, but Shepard had known her since she was a child. She couldn’t disguise the look in her deep brown eyes, or the small frown on her lips. Easy to forget, impossible to forget, that she was only 24.

“We’ll make it,” Marie said firmly. And then, “You’ll make it too. That’s an order, Commander.”

Shepard’s grin widened, and she sketched a salute. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. Marie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. That was all that mattered.

“Go and get some rest, will you? The bags under your eyes are visible from Earth.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Shepard said easily. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jeanne.” The call disconnected, and Shepard glanced around her new place. Her new place. Even the church had never truly been hers. There weren’t many things she considered truly her own, she supposed.

There were recordings littered around the apartment. Apparently Anderson had taken down voice notes for his biography. She couldn’t help the small, fond smile that flitted across her face. Her hands paused above the one labelled Shepard on the kitchen counter (she’d never had her own kitchen before). She pressed the play button, and she listened.

“Sure, I can talk about Commander Shepard. Big topic. There’s been a lot written about the Commander, but most of it isn’t true. People are quick to judge. They don’t know the whole story, I don’t even know the whole story. But I know the woman. Worked with her, fought with her, trust her with my life. Shepard’s had some rough patches, who of us hasn’t? She’s been forced to fight a lot of battles alone. God only knows how she got out of some of that. Makes your head spin.”

Anderson’s warm voice filled the apartment, and his every word was laced with pride. Shepard realized belatedly that she was crying, hot tears painting her cheeks. Gently, she sunk to the floor and rested her head against the cupboard. She thought of Aratoht then, as she always seemed to. Makes my head spin too, she thought.

“Thing is, you never heard a complaint. Never once got ‘no sir, I can’t do that.’ She never hesitated. Few people know what Shepard’s been through. I like to think I come pretty close. And I worry sometimes she forgets: there’s a whole bunch of people who lose sleep about her getting back home. Maybe it doesn’t need to be said. Maybe we’re just to dumb to say it. Soldiers like the Commander are rare. Women like Shepard...even more rare.” Anderson’s voice drifted away.

I just...you don’t need to do everything alone anymore, you know? Garrus had said. Maybe they were right. Her heart was so full. She couldn’t quite pinpoint the warm feeling in her chest. Loved, maybe? Not a word she was used to choosing, but it fit the bill. She carefully picked herself up and dusted herself off, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Her private message terminal was blinking, and she went to check her unread messages. There was a note from Joker asking him to meet him at a sushi restaurant. Huh. She’d never had sushi before. No time like the present, she supposed.

Shepard glanced down at herself. Perhaps, she thought, her N7 hoodie and cargo pants wouldn’t be appropriate for an upscale sushi place. She wandered upstairs and peeked into her room (there was a hot tub. She’d...well, she’d never had a bath before. No bathtubs in the Alliance). She tugged open the closet and her eyes widened. There was that dress Kasumi had insisted she keep, but next to it was something else entirely. Reverently, she ran her hands over the fabric. It was soft to the touch, velvet maybe? She pulled it out.

It was a suit. It had to be a suit, although it was unlike any she’d ever seen before. The matching pants and jacket were there, but that’s where the similarities stopped. It was a deep blue, but as the fabric shifted in her hands it looked dark burgundy. There was a matching silk black camisole to wear underneath. It felt luxurious, soft as a cloud. She’d never owned anything this expensive that didn’t fire bullets. There was a small note tucked in the pocket.

Thanks for all your help. Consider this an early birthday gift. Who knows, by the time you take a break it may be your actual birthday. I think I’ve got the measurements right, but nobody’s perfect. - Miranda P.S., there’s a white shirt as well, but it’s much harder to get blood stains out of white silk.

Shepard smiled down at the note, and very carefully got dressed, anxious not to damage the clothes. She tugged on the heeled boots that seemed to go with it, and examined herself in the mirror. Miranda might insist that she wasn’t perfect, but she’d done a damn fine job with this. The cuffs fell to the exact right spot on her wrists, and for the first time in her life, the legs were long enough. The boots had a low heel, comfortable and well-balanced enough that she could run.

And Miranda, blessed Miranda, had included a concealed pocket for a switchblade. Shepard loosened her strict braid into something a little more casual, and she smiled at herself in the mirror one last time. Then she left for sushi.

The lineup outside the restaurant was around the block and then some. The people waiting were distinctly unhappy that Shepard had a reservation. If looks could kill, Shepard would have been pushing the daisies. She strode past the glares with practiced ease. Joker was seated at a table at the back, and he waved her over.

“Just gotta save the galaxy twice to get a place here, huh?” he said. “Hey, maybe when we do it again they’ll let us eat free!”

“That’s the spirit,” Shepard said. “How are you enjoying your vacation?”

“I feel like I should go check the Normandy for missing parts,” he griped. “I don’t trust those engineers.” Shepard chuckled and patted him on the arm.

“She’ll be fine, Joker. She’s been through the Omega 4, she can handle a few repairs. Relax, you’re on shore leave.”

“I’m gonna need a lot more drinks with umbrellas in them,” he said mournfully.

“I’m the first human Spectre. I’ll get you two umbrellas,” she said wryly.

“Awesome use of power, boss! So, what’d you ask me here to talk about? Your note said it was important.”

“Me? You invited me here,” Shepard said, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Commander Shepard, please I need to talk to you!” A young woman in an Alliance uniform pushed her way forward, with the maitre d’ shouting after her. The people in line looked positively murderous.

“Can I help you?” Shepard asked politely.

“I’m Staff Analyst Maya Brooks of Alliance Intelligence. Someone’s trying to kill you!” the woman cried. Shepard and Joker exchanged a look.

“Uh, yeah. I think she’s aware,” Joker said dryly.

“No! I don’t mean the Reapers and Cerberus. Other people,” Brooks said. “They’re hacking your accounts, your communications, and it looks like they’re targeting you personally!”

“What information do you have?” Shepard asked. She straightened up, suddenly all business.

“Well--” Brooks began.

Bullets rained down from the front of the restaurant. Brooks let out a blood-curdling shriek. Shepard swore softly and dragged Joker down, lifting up their table as a makeshift barricade. A group of heavily armed individuals marched in, their faces masked.

“Tonight’s performance was brought to you by random acts of violence!” one of them shouted.

“Where’s Commander Shepard?” another yelled. “Find her!” They spread out through the restaurant, sending the civilians running.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two hours. I’ve been on shore leave for two hours. They couldn’t let me have an appetizer first?”

One of the mercs hauled away Brooks, kicking and screaming. Shepard grabbed the knife she had tucked away in her coat.

“Why do you have that?? We were going for dinner!” Joker hissed.

“Would you rather I didn’t have it right now? I have a few others, do you want one?” she asked, taking stock of the room.

“No???”

“Joker, I need you to stay calm,” Shepard whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to take these guys out. When the coast is clear, go find the rest of the team. But I need you to stay here until it’s safe, understood?”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” he said fervently. One of the mercenaries approached to look behind the table. Shepard caught his arm and sent him sprawling to the ground, following it up with a devastating jab from her omni-tool directly to the face. She grabbed his gun and held it at the ready. She glanced around her cover and saw two more mercs coming at her. One went down with a shot to the face, the other with a thrown knife to the throat.

“Joker, now!” she hissed. Joker got up and stumbled away as best he could. Once he was out, Shepard activated her tactical cloak and booked it across the room. If there was one thing she’d learned these long years, it was that the best fight was the one you avoided. Once she’d made it to Brooks, she tried to help her to her feet. A sniper appeared from above and fired a shot, hitting Brooks. Shepard backed away and each shot landed by her, sinking into the ground.

If only the restaurant hadn’t decided to use fish tanks as their floor.

Shepard went down, glass shattering around her. She seemed to hit every bone on the way down the side of the building, banging into the wall over and over again. She slammed into the ground hard, all of her freshly-healed wounds screaming obscenities at her.

“Commander!” Brooks called over the comms. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” Shepard groaned. “Can you find me a way out of here?” Dr. Chakwas was going to have a fit. She’d been off the ship two hours and she was already broken again. Ugh. At least the clothes seemed to be in one piece. Small mercies, Shepard supposed, as she struggled to her feet.

“Uh, yes! Keep going forward, I think!” Brooks said. Shepard grit her teeth.

“Thanks,” she managed. She slid down the ladder up ahead of her and took a look around. Somewhere in the wards, she figured.

“There’s a sky-car lot up ahead of me, Brooks. Could you find me a path there?” Shepard asked.

“Ah, yes! Of course!” Brooks replied nervously. Shepard tried very hard not to roll her eyes as she wove her way through the wards. She came up on some kind of market, and she caught sight of another group of mercs barrelling towards her.

“There she is!” one of them called. Shit. This outfit really wasn’t built for stealth, huh? God, she’d kill for a rifle right about now. Instead, she slipped back into her tactical cloak and hid behind a fruit stand. What a weird fucking day.

“Shepard! Are you alright?” It was a relief to hear Garrus’ voice, even if it was only through her earpiece. Tension she didn’t realize she’d been carrying dissipated, ever so slightly.

“I’m fine, but I could use a hand,” she said ruefully, aiming an incendiary blast directly to the face of one of her attackers.

“Joker sent me your location, I’m on my way,” he said immediately.

“This is a secure channel!” Brooks cut in. “You’re putting Commander Shepard at risk!”

“I’m what? Who is this?” Garrus demanded.

“Brooks, Garrus. Garrus, this is Brooks,” Shepard said. “Now please hush, it's a little hard to kill mercenaries with people arguing in my ear.”

“Shepard, I am sending backup to your location,” EDI said.

“Sounds good, things are getting a little dicey here,” Shepard replied. She glanced over the fruit stall and had to duck quickly as a drone came barrelling towards her. It exploded directly next to her, sending pieces of watermelon and blueberries flying.

“I will attempt to register surprise,” EDI said dryly. Shepard grinned crookedly at that. She dashed forward as another round of mercs came at her. She spent the next several minutes fading in and out of invisibility, running hell for leather past the mercs. Her legs, miraculously, stayed upright. Small mercies. She pulled into the car lot and slammed the door shut behind her. A shot zipped past her, missing by inches. … “Having a bad day, Shepard?” Garrus called. He took out the merc that had shot at her, and scanned the area for any more threats. It looked like they were clear for the moment. Now to find a way out of the lot.

“You could say that,” she said, pushing flyaway hairs away from her face. “Let’s look for a control panel.” His eyes finally came to rest on her and his breath stuttered in his throat. She was wearing that thing humans called a ‘suit,’ but not like any he’d ever seen before. His mouth was suddenly too dry.

“Nice outfit,” he managed. The look she gave him was unimpressed, but he wasn’t thinking with his brain at the moment. “Ah, control panel. Right.”

Shepard strode through the lot and glanced into the darkened office. She gently tapped on the glass. Garrus hurried after her.

“Could you open the doors up?” she said politely. The doors opened a second later. “Much appreciated.”

“Please leave,” the volus inside pleaded.

Garrus motioned for Shepard to stay behind him. Only one of them was armoured, after all. She raised an eyebrow and took point.

“So...you fell through a fish tank?” he ventured.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she replied.

“Damn shame,” he said, and now he was just doing it for the reaction. Midnight blue fabric. Not thinking with his brain. “I hear it was the best on the Citadel.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said more firmly, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. He gave her arm a quick squeeze, and then they both stepped onto the landing zone. That Brooks person had apparently radioed to say that a C-Sec shuttle was on the way. When it appeared though, the door opened to reveal a group of the same mercs that had been attacking Shepard. Garrus ducked down and dragged her with him. Bullets skittered across the ground around them.

“Any chance I could borrow that Widow of yours?” she asked breathlessly. He looked at her incredulously.

“I must not have heard you right,” he said. “You definitely did not just ask to borrow my favourite gun.” She opened her mouth to reply, and then her eyes widened.

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

“Krogan coming through!” Wrex bellowed, soaring through the air. He slammed down onto the front of the shuttle, sending half of the mercenaries flying. He mowed his way through the other half, shooting, punching, and in one case, launching them off the shuttle. Shepard was grinning wildly.

“Wrex! What are you doing here?” she asked, running forward.

“Negotiating krogan expansion with the Council,” he explained. “But that AI of yours said there’d be a fight. So here I am.”

“Glad you could make it to the party," Garrus lied through his teeth.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Wrex said. He clapped Garrus on the shoulder harder than necessary. “Figured Shepard would need some help, if you’re the only backup she has.”

“Try to keep up, old man,” Garrus shot back.

“It may have escaped your notice, but we are being shot at right now, boys,” Shepard said dryly. Ah, right. Fair point. ... Once they were clear, they gathered in Shepard’s new apartment. Brooks was pacing back and forth, and Shepard put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“Me? I got shot! Like, with an actual bullet. I took a desk job so I wouldn’t get shot! They said the medi-gel might make me jumpy, do I seem jumpy to you?” Brooks said.

“Hey, hey,” Shepard said soothingly, the voice she usually reserved for grieving families. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

“We need to stop those guys, they might hurt more innocent people! Like me! I got shot!”

“Yes. Do we have any leads?” Shepard asked. The door to the apartment opened gently and Liara stepped through.

“I may have some suggestions on that,” she said. “Are you alright, Shepard?”

“I think my ribs are bruised again, but what else is new?” Shepard said ruefully. “That C-Sec shuttle should have had officers in it. I’ll get in touch with Commander Bailey, see what happened,” Shepard said, punching in the number in her omni-tool.

“Wait!” Brooks said. Everyone turned to look at her. “Uh, wouldn’t anyone you contact also become a target?”

“She’s got a point,” Garrus said.

Shepard nodded brusquely. “You're right. We keep this between us for now.”

“Fortunately, I’ve brought a few people who can help,” Liara said cheerfully. The door was knocked on its hinges as every member of her crew -- and a few people who weren’t -- filed in. The apartment was large, but even so Shepard was going to need to figure out where to put all of these people. What, was there an event going on at the Citadel right now that had brought them all there? Well, besides her attempted assassination.

“The riff-raff have arrived. Garrus, hide the silverware.” Shepard’s voice was pitched to carry.

��Up yours, Shepard,” Jack shot back.

“What she said,” Zaeed added.

"I'll go see what I can find. Come find me when you have a moment," Liara said.

Shepard wandered around to speak with everyone, but it all just seemed to be variations on the theme of “haha Shepard ruined the sushi restaurant” or “Shepard, how could you destroy that sushi restaurant”? Evidently they’d collectively decided to forget that she hadn't exactly chosen to be shot at. What compassionate friends she had, she thought wryly. She gave up after a while and went to talk to Liara.

“What's the word?” she asked. The others slowly gathered around. There was barely enough room for them all to stand together.

“That pistol you found, it’s not available anywhere on the market. I’ve tracked it to a weapons dealer named Elijah Khan. He owns a casino nearby. They’re holding a charity event tonight,” Liara explained.

“So we sneak in and talk to this Khan guy?” Ash asked.

“My sources tell me he’s locked himself in his panic room. We would need someone to sneak inside this vent system.” Liara pulled up a map of the casino interior. “And deactivate the lock.”

“I say we blow the place to high heaven,” Zaeed suggested.

“I’m in,” Wrex said immediately.

“I’m open to other suggestions,” Shepard said. “Any other suggestions.” Zaeed politely flipped her off.

“Bringing a large group would arouse suspicion,” Thane said thoughtfully. “A covert infiltration would be best.” Shepard nodded.

“Alright, just a small crew then. I’ll need someone to take point with me, and then someone else will crawl through that vent,” Shepard said. “Any takers for the vent?” She looked around the room for volunteers. They were not forthcoming.

“Mechs are not allowed in case they are used for cheating. Legion and I will not be able to enter,” EDI explained. Shepard’s eyes swung to Tali and she raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me!” Tali protested. “They’d uh...pick up my suit!” Shepard shrugged.

“What you need is somebody trained in zero-emissions tech. No electronics, no metal. Just undetectable polymers. We had a course back at Op-Int, disabling a bomb with these little tweezers. See, the bomb was filled with shaving cream…” Brooks trailed off as she realized everyone was looking at her. Shepard smiled at her reassuringly.

“Alright Brooks, you’re our alternate,” she said.

“What? Me? I couldn’t...what do you mean alternate?” Brooks asked. Shepard smiled ruefully.

“I wouldn’t want to put you in more danger. You’ve already been shot once. And since I’ve had two gun mods go missing since I got back, I have a sneaking suspicion that there’s someone here who can lend a helping hand. Kasumi?”

The galaxy’s best thief materialized, sitting on the kitchen counter. She had a cheeky grin under her hood.

“You’re getting very good at that,” she said cheerfully.

“Sure would’ve been awkward if I’d been wrong,” Shepard replied wryly.

“Damn, I should’ve stayed hidden!”

“What do you say to a heist with me?” Shepard asked. Kasumi hopped down from the counter and sketched a bow.

“I’d be delighted,” she said.

“There’s just one problem,” Liara cut in.

“Current estimate: 57 problems and counting,” Mordin replied. “Additional 34 if you decide to take the krogan.” Shepard couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“Well, one of the problems is that it’s black-tie only,” Liara said. Shepard raised an eyebrow and glanced down at her outfit. It was still damp from crashing through a fish tank, but otherwise undamaged.

“Will this do?” she asked, motioning to the suit.

“It’ll more than do,” Garrus said huskily, and then coughed awkwardly when several sets of eyes turned to look at him. “What? I’m just answering the question.”

“Who’s going with us then?” Kasumi asked, and Shepard grinned.

Bright lights flashed in Shepard’s eyes as she and Garrus walked down the literal red carpet, arm-in-arm. Maybe one day they’d get to go somewhere nice without worrying about a nefarious plot. For now, she was on vacation and she was going to enjoy herself, attempts on her life be damned.

“You clean up well,” Shepard commented. He had on another of those intricate turian outfits, with more buckles than fabric, in a combination of black and white. He wore it well. They were, she imagined, quite a striking couple. For one, they were a good head taller than anyone else. For two, well...

“Yeah? Then it’s a damn shame that all eyes are on you,” Garrus replied.

“I did the best I could without a carapace or a crest,” she said wryly.

“Well your best has my mandible on the floor. Damn!” he said easily.

“You two are adorable,” Kasumi said from somewhere to Shepard’s left. Shepard flushed a brilliant red, and she heard Kasumi laugh brightly.

Shepard and Garrus mingled with the wealthy clientele, occasionally providing support for Kasumi as she travelled through the vents. Shepard realized, suddenly, that this was the bright and shining culture she’d seen from afar when she was younger. This was what she’d wanted to experience. As far as she was concerned, they could keep it.

Distracting the guards to disable the alarms wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but they managed it. But when they arrived in the panic room, Khan was already dead. Shit.

“It’s never that easy, huh?” Garrus asked.

“He received a call a few minutes before he died. Give them a ring and I’ll see if I can trace it,” Kasumi said. The large screen behind the desk flickered to light and a figure appeared on the screen. Their face was concealed by static, and their voice was altered.

“Elijah? Come crawling back?” they asked.

“Guess again,” Shepard said. Kasumi's hands flashed across her omni-tool.

“You. I see you’ve recovered from flopping on the floor like a fish.”

“You’ll have to do better than that. The last guy that trash-talked me was a few kilometres taller than you.” Shepard leaned back, crossing her arms.

“Brave. I thought as much, but it won’t matter. You have nothing. All you can do is wait for the hammer to fall. I’m going to take everything you have, and everything you are.” The call ended.

“Gotcha,” Kasumi said brightly.

“Shepard, someone’s wiped the drive. Bit of a messy job though, there might be something left,” Garrus said.

“Between EDI, Legion, and Tali, I’m sure we’ll be able to find something. Let’s go.”

They were once more gathered around the pool table, now with even less room than before. They were discussing the information they’d been able to find on Khan’s drive, mostly information about the guns that Shepard’s attackers had bought. Glyph flew over and hovered above the table, flashing red.

“Commander, I have found your Spectre code being used at the Citadel Archives,” he said.

“What would they want there?” Shepard asked.

“Shall we go find out?” Liara said.

“But who? We can’t bring everyone,” Brooks piped up. Shepard grinned.

“Why not?” she asked. “All hands on deck for this one.”

“Very well, but who will take point with you?” Liara asked. Wrex coughed pointedly. And then Javik coughed even more pointedly. Tali coughed politely, but also pointedly.

“Garrus and Jack, you’re with me. Everyone else, divide up into three teams of whoever is least likely to want to kill each other.”

“What happens if I want to kill bird-brain?” Jack asked.

“Think happy thoughts,” Shepard suggested.

“Those are my happy thoughts,” Jack replied snarkily. Ah. Some things never changed.

They’d barely made it into the archives when they walked into a trap. The others were up on the catwalks above, and every door in the room slammed shut. A figure appeared behind Brooks and pressed a gun to her temple. They were shadowed, and even Shepard’s excellent vision couldn’t quite make them out.

“Don’t move, or she dies,” they said.

“Who are you?” Shepard demanded. The figure chuckled darkly.

Why do I know that voice? Shepard wondered. The figure tossed Brooks aside, and strode forward into the light. She wore the same uniform as the mercs, but her face…Shepard stared back at her own Roman nose and burning red hair. Only not quite. This nose had never been broken, and there wasn’t the familiar patchwork quilt of scar tissue across her face and neck.

“I’m you, but better,” the other Shepard said. “Without all the doubts and the wear and tear.”

“Huh. This officially takes the cake for the weirdest thing that’s happened to me,” Shepard said. “Let me rephrase: what the fuck is going on?”

“Cerberus spared no expense when it came to bringing you back. Me, they made for spare parts, in case you needed an arm, or a lung, or a kidney. When they had you, they discarded me,” her clone snapped. Shepard’s brows knit together.

“Well if you’re me, then we should be working together,” she said. The clone scoffed.

“Why would I bother helping you? Why should I care? You took everything from me, and now I’m going to take everything from you. But there was no way I’d fool your friends, so I needed to get rid of them as well. All the people that turned their backs of their responsibilities to join the cult of Shepard,” the clone spat. The cult of Shepard…?

“No one will ever believe you’re me,” Shepard said, trying a different tactic.

“Sure they will, when I’m flying your ship,” the clone replied. Shepard froze and then immediately started keying into her omni-tool.

“Traynor, I need you to lock down the ship, understood? Here are the command codes,” she said quickly. Her clone smirked and waved a hand in front of her.

“Good idea, if only that message had been sent,” she said. She keyed up her own omni-tool and raised her voice slightly. “Traynor, this is Shepard. Prepare for departure. Here are the command codes.”

Shepard’s hands balled up into fists. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before someone steals my ship.”

The clone shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ll see about that.” She turned to leave.

“Tell me,” Shepard called after her. “Do you know your own name?”

“It’s Joan,” the clone replied smugly. Shepard grinned, baring her teeth.

“Guess again,” she said, and she activated her tactical cloak.

They fought their way through the archives, the other teams racing on the catwalks above. Liara’s information drone, Glyph, scouted ahead. Occasionally he returned, saying that he mistook the clone for Shepard. Shepard tried very hard not to roll her eyes, and she mostly succeeded.

“The other Shepard’s still alive!” one of the mercs yelled.

“The next person who says that is a dead man!” the clone snapped over the comms.

“An accurate observation,” Legion said.

“What do I do??” Brooks cried. “They’re firing at me!”

“Just follow Shepard's lead and let us do all the heavy lifting!” Liara called.

“Touché, T'Soni!” Garrus shot back.

“Think you comedians could actually hit something?” Shepard shouted, ducking to avoid oncoming enemy fire.

They forged on through the archives, passing by clips of history. One by one, the teams stopped responding. Shepard pushed on faster, concern creeping up on her. And so she rushed headlong directly into a trap that she should’ve seen coming. Shepard set foot onto a platform and a forcefield appeared around her, Jack, and Garrus

The clone stepped forward, smiling smugly. Shepard tried to shoot her, but the force-field stopped the bullets dead. Shit. Shepard felt light-headed. She was locked in a small space. A very small space. Oh god, such a small space. Her heart hammered in her chest and she fought to control her breathing. She reached for her familiar, cold veneer. Like hell she was going to show weakness in front of the enemy.

“Well well, the great Commander Shepard. But not for very much longer.”

“Where are my friends?” Shepard spat.

“Locked up in iridium vaults forever. And it’s all your fault,” her clone taunted.

“The Alliance will stop you--” Shepard began.

“Will they?” Her clone cut her off. “What do you think, Staff Analyst Brooks?” Brooks sauntered forward from the shadows.

“I wouldn’t know.” Her voice had shifted, becoming deeper, more assured. “I don’t actually work for them.”

“You bitch,” Jack spat.

“I’m with Jack on this one,” Garrus said. Shepard arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t her own.

“This feels like the time when the villain explains their grand plan,” she said. “So what the hell?”

“Really we just wanted your Spectre codes,” Brooks explained. “But then you had to insist on surviving. So, I had to improvise.”

“Then I must say, I'm impressed,” Shepard said.

“Oh?”

“Your optimism is impressive,” Shepard clarified. “You threw, what, fifty mercs at me and you thought that would finish me off? For such a smart woman, that's remarkably short-sighted of you.”

“I think I've made up for it now. Let's see you get out of a locked box.”

“What, this? No, I've been in far worse situations than this. Last week I was trapped at the bottom of an ocean in a mech. This is nothing.”

“You seem remarkably calm for a dead woman,” Shepard’s clone said. Shepard’s eyes flicked to her and she sneered.

“I could say the same of you. You can change the records, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. You know the name on my file, but you don’t know the first thing about me. How are you going to convince Anderson or Hackett or--”

“Or General Shepard?” Brooks cut her off. “We’ll deal with her.”

Shepard stilled. Her erratic heartbeat settled. Her words, when they came, were soft. “If you threaten her again, I will make you wish that I’d only killed you.”

“That's quite a threat. I might even be afraid, if Commander Shepard had said it. But you're nobody,” Brooks said.

“And you're on borrowed time,” Shepard replied. Brooks' expression faltered, just a tiny bit, at whatever she saw in Shepard’s eyes. Shepard’s clone scoffed loudly, breaking through the tense silence.

“You know the one thing about us that they can’t replace? Our handprint. It changes based on life experiences,” the clone said. Shepard thought of the scars that used to twist across her palms. “But now I’m going to replace yours.” The clone pulled up a terminal and pressed her hand down.

“Hello, Commander Shepard,” the computer said. The clone grinned smugly.

“Goodbye,” Brooks murmured. “I guess this is where legends go to die.” She and the clone waltzed away, seemingly without a care in the world. The platform jerked beneath Shepard and walls slowly closed around her.

“I’m going to strangle them,” Shepard vowed.

“I’m all for that, but we’re still trapped in this fucking box,” Jack pointed out.

“With limited air,” Garrus added. Shepard hummed noncommittally.

“Hey Glyph, you still out there?” she called.

“Yes Commander.”

“Get us out of this thing, and then go find the others. Nobody steals my ship, not even me.”

Joker pulled up in a sky car just as the last stragglers pulled themselves up onto the roof.

“I’ve got room for Shepard and two more, and you better decide fast because those assholes are stealing my baby,” he snapped.

“I could drive--” Shepard said.

“NO!” The sound of the entire crew shouting the word echoed across the rooftop.

“Fine,” Shepard muttered. “Garrus and EDI, with me.”

“I wanted to go,” Wrex grumbled.

“You should have thought of that before you insulted my driving,” Shepard said. “Joker will be back for you soon.”

Joker hit the pedal to the floor as soon as everyone was in the car. A moment later, there was a whirring sound from the back seat.

“They’re trying to take control of the ship--” EDI said. Her eyes spun around, and sparks flew off of her. She shut down.

“Crap,” Garrus said. EDI powered back up, her eyes still askew.

“Are you...okay?” Joker ventured.

“I am functional, but I have no control of the Normandy. I feel...lost,” EDI said brokenly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have you back in no time. You have my word,” Shepard said.

“Thank you.”

They arrived on the Normandy just as it was starting to pull away. Traynor was in the entryway, sputtering various unflattering things about Shepard. She caught sight of Shepard and she held her toothbrush threateningly in front of her.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “You were...you were back there! I was minding my own business, and then you marched in and fired me! I barely had time to grab my toothbrush!”

Shepard held up her hands. “That’s a Cision Pro Mark IV. It uses tiny mass effect fields to break up plaque and massage the gums. I know that because you told me, because I’m the real Shepard. The one you saw earlier was a clone.”

“I--”

“I wish I had time to explain, but we need to get on the ship. No one knows it better than you do, Traynor,” Shepard said quickly. Traynor thought for a second. Apparently she decided to go along with it, because she leaned down to examine the ground.

“There should be a ventilation shaft around...here.” She pulled up a piece of the floor. EDI shook her head.

“You would need something that could precisely manipulate mass effect fields,” she explained. Shepard met Traynor’s eyes, and Traynor determinedly turned on her toothbrush.

Crawling through a shaft wasn’t exactly ideal for Shepard’s over six-foot frame, but she just about managed it.

“If you’d told me this morning that a toothbrush was going to save the Normandy, I’d have been very skeptical,” she whispered. “Remind me to reimburse Traynor, I think it broke.”

“Shepard, you--” EDI began.

“Later. Remind me later.”

They opened the grate into the CIC with guns blazing. The mercenaries were no match for them. EDI looked like she was running on sheer, unadulterated rage. She grabbed hold of a dying mercenary. Her voice was like ice. “Where are they?”

“Cargo bay,” the merc managed.

“Thank you for your assistance,” EDI said, and shot him in the face. Shepard met Garrus’ eyes and shrugged helplessly. They made their way to the elevator, and Shepard’s heart dropped to the floor. Mako’s cage, along with her carefully assembled collection of model ships, was resting in a garbage bin. There was a note on top with handwriting that was almost (but not quite) the same as Shepard’s.

“Please get rid of this, a ship is no place for…oh that is so not okay. They messed with my hamster guys. Now it’s personal,” Shepard hissed.

“Was it not personal before?” Garrus asked.

“I-- well, yeah. But Mako’s defenceless. What was a little hamster going to do to them--”

“I suggest we keep moving,” EDI cut in.

“Right, right. Of course.” Shepard hit the button on the elevator.

#shakarian #mass effect #me2 #me3 #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #oc: joan shepard #50/50 odds i delete this in an hour but who knows #did i write a 100k+ word story so that i could write the citadel dlc? mayhaps

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lethesomething · 5 years

Text

Make-up for lazy and/or busy people

Have some practical tips from someone who doesn't really has time for this, but tries it anyway.

It's 2019 and everyone's a beauty guru

Let me preface this by saying: you don't need make-up. Don't let people tell you you need to 'put your face on'. You can damn well choose which face you'll be projecting each day or even part of the day. Unless you're manning one of those cosmetics counters in a mall, how you look is mostly about you and what makes you feel comfy. So while I'll be giving random ass tips on how to get certain looks with minimal effort, even that minimal effort is totally optional.

Now. Onward.

So I made it into my thirties without ever actually bothering with the whole 'make-up' thing. But now my job requires me to be Fancy sometimes, so last year I decided to make it a Project to learn and be somewhat good at it. I watched a whole bunch of youtube and read articles and Looked Stuff Up and then I bought a cheap version of All the Things to practice. It's honestly quite an overwhelming experience, and it's even harder if you, like, have a day job and hobbies and anime to watch and videogames to play and ranting blogs to write.

Like, Tati I love you but I'm not about to get up an hour earlier for this shit.

If you need some low-stakes, 'just looking around' type stuff, that's what this is here for. I cannot tell you how to do a cut crease or any of the fancy stuff. So have some of my own meandering experience, which can hopefully help you a little bit.

What is all this stuff?

When I did my research at first, I drew up a list of Things I apparently needed to buy to do the make-up. It turned out to be a long ass list. Here are the 'common' items on said list.

1. Primer

Exactly like the thing you put on your walls before you paint them. Supposed to go on top of the moisturizer and under everything else and depending on the primer, does different things. This is.…kindof extra. I've tried two different 'colour correcting anti red' primers and all they seem to do is dry out my skin. I'm sure some are nice but this is really not a basic necessity.

2. Foundation

The thing you slather on to make your skin either look smooth like polished marble, or cakey like badly done stucco. Kinda depends on how good you're at it. Comes in varieties.

Full coverage foundation: The stuff all the make-up youtubers use. It essentially turns you into one of those Japanese mask monsters? Like the ghost from Spirited Away. Good at getting rid of any and all blemishes, but requires More Work later on.

BB cream (or CC, or DD…): Supposed to be a more skincare friendly version of foundation. I've tried a few brands and they ended up medium to full coverage, and all of them dried out my skin.

Tinted moisturizer: Not… strictly… make-up? In Europe you tend to find these in pharmacy/parapharmacy places (so Boots or Walgreens for UK/US peeps). It's essentially moisturizer with some colouring in it to give your face extra oomph. Also, what I long expected BB cream to be (it is not). Because it's pharmacy stuff, it comes in versions with like no perfume, so if you have sensitive skin but want an Instagram filter for your face, this is probably something to look into.

3. Concealer

Spot treatment to get rid of any glaring discolouration you wish to hide. +10 to all stealth checks on red spots and eye bags, but does make wrinkles really obvious.

4. Face powder/baking powder

I have no clue what this is good for. I've tried two different ones on several occasions, and I think they're supposed to stop you from getting shiny by absorbing any facial oil. They mostly just make me look dusty.

5. Bronzer

Here's the fun thing about using full coverage foundation to make yourself look like a ghost: you then need More Product to make yourself look alive again. Enter: bronzer. This stuff puts a bit of colour back into those spots you so carefully blotted out so that you appear moar hooman. Only useful if you do the whole 'full coverage foundation' thing.

6. Contouring

That thing you know because of the Kardashians. Alternatively: don't let them know we can shapeshift. This is morphing powder/cream for your face. You use it to add shadows where no shadows are, and light where there is shadow and of course this means most people use it to look as close to skeletons as possible. Can do really cool things if you know what you're doing, and look Really Wrong if you mess it up. Not for the faint of heart. Also: your nose is fine. Really.

7. Blush

Blushing is the ultimate staple of romance fics, and it looks cute. Blush powder/cream is meant to give you glowing apple cheeks, even when you're not actively feeling embarrassed.

8. Highlighter

Societally acceptable glitter for the skin. This shit is amazing. It's officially supposed to make you 'glow' and look 'youthful' and 'juicy' but honey, who cares: Glitter!

9. Lip liner

A pencil/felt pen for your lips. Supposed to help you paint the outside of your lips so you only have to fill in the lines with lipstick later. Like carefully searching the edges before using the flood tool in Photoshop. Considering I'm pretty bad at the 'smooth strokes at lip edge' thing, it doesn't really help me to have to do it twice but ok.

10. Lip stuff

My favourite Make-up Thing. Puts colour on your lips. Comes in varieties.

Lipstick: Your mom's classic lipstick. The one with the twisty tube. Comes in a million colours and is sometimes moisturizing. Cons: everything your lips touch is now covered in lipstick.

Liquid lipstick: The stuff in the long tubes with the applicator. Usually transfer-proof which means that your coffee cup does not look like a blood bath after a few sips. Dries the hell out of your lips tho.

Lipgloss: the stuff that makes your hair stick to your face at the least gust of wind. Usually quite moisturizing but also super sticky. Makes your tea mug look like a particularly grisly murder scene.

Lip topper: Extra. Like… so extra. This is lip stuff that goes on top of your lip stuff in case you don't have enough lip stuff. Usually metallic or glitter. Because Extra.

Tinted lip balm: Another cheat item, like tinted moisturizer, in that it's not Officially Make-up. Is essentially lip balm, so it's not sticky and usually quite moisturizing and protective. Downside is that its colouring tends to be quite muted.

11. Eyebrow stuff

I don't know when 'fleek' became such an obsession, but there are pencils, and pomades, and powder and gels and spoolie brushes and they all do the same thing: shape your eyebrows.

12. Eyelid primer

Funny thing about eyes: if you have deepset or hooded eyes, like me, your eyelid spends most of its time covered by Moar Eyelid. This tends to transfer whatever you put on said eyelid to all the other skin. Hence: eyelid primer, which is like… glue? I guess? Makes stuff stay in place. For those people who don't have a bunch of eyelid foldage, it's supposed to help with the blending and whatnot.

13. Eyeshadow

Pretty colours for your eyes. Comes in powder and cream, and in literally so many colours, be it matte (no shiny), metallic (shiny), glitter (extra shiny) and fairly recently multichrome (Extra). I see a lot of influencers and (let's be real) make-up companies push the idea that you need like four shades and half an hour of blending for any given 'look' but that is mostly exaggeration. You can just pick a colour you like and wear it.

14. Eyeliner

Pencil or paint that lines your eyes and occasionally gives them wings. Comes in varieties.

Liquid eye liner: your basic all-purpose liner. This one has the advantage that it can usually be applied very thin and stealthy like.

Gel liner: as far as I can tell, a lot of liquid eye liner has an alcohol base, whereas gel liner does not. Its main reason for existing is that you can somewhat safely put it in your waterline, aka to colour the part of the eyelid just behind the lashes. This means you're going to be jabbing the pen or brush in your actual fucking eye, on the bottom/inside of your friggin eyelid and this is Terrifying. On the bright side: it's a pretty badass punky/emo/goth look. Think Avril Lavigne circa Sk8ter boy.

Kohl/pencil: this is a colouring pencil for your eyes. Tends to be a little bit thicker for extra Drama. Can also be smudged for smokey eye and even more goth points.

15. Mascara

Paint for your eyelashes. Most mascaras try to make them look bigger.

16. Falsies

Glue false eyelashes onto your own eyelashes. Ain't nobody got time for that.

17. Setting spray

Face varnish. If you've spent an entire hour getting your make-up super pretty and fancy, you can put this on to make it last longer.

So how do you use all this?

That… was a lot of stuff and we're all still overwhelmed. So let me give you some suggestions, a 'look book' of wearable looks for every day and special ocasions, aka, now that i have this stuff, wtf am i doing with it.

The 'fuck everything' I have a shirt that says 'No.' on it. It's one of my favourite shirts and I use it on deadline weeks, when I'm in the office with a particularly large amount of stressful work. I tend to pair it with a noise-cancelling headset and a look of barely-restrained fury, but it'll look just as good with a cute dress or a comfy pair of jeans. Go wild. This facial look consists of the following:

Moisturizer

Lip balm in winter, sun screen in summer.

The 'I tried'

This was my 'work' look for several years and occasionally still. The fun thing about it is it's quite subtle and most people (definitely most men) will not think you're wearing anything. It makes you feel like you're undercover, just a bit (I take my entertainment where i can get it, ok).

Consists of:

Skincare (moisturise, people!)

Eyebrow pencil

Mascara

The 'You look nice today'

This one works basically like a photoshop filter for your face, if you're into that. It blurs out a little bit of the rough edges and emphasises other parts, but it still looks very much like you. Just a version of you that gets more sleep than the actual you, usually. For me, at least, it works to make me go 'damn, looking cute' when I accidentally meet my reflection in a bathroom mirror. It's a confidence builder.

Mosturiser

Tinted moisturiser or BB cream (depends on general dryness of skin I guess)

Concealer (eyebags, man)

Eyebrow pencil

Mascara

Tinted lip balm or lip gloss

A note on lips: Look. I love dark lipstick. Make me appear as if I have stained my lips in the blood of my enemies and I'm happy. But a dark liquid lip needs to be on point to look good, which is a hard thing to do, plus if you get it wrong it is very hard to correct and I don't need that stress in my daily life. Gloss or lip balm is just a little bit more low-stakes.

The 'Make me look like my selfie'

Some days you have time. This look is essentially the same as the 'you look nice today' with two additions

Cream eyeshadow

Cream (stick) blush

A note on cream make-up: Most make-up products come in a powder form and a cream/liquid type form. Generally, the powder form is more blendable, and those fancy eyeshadow pallettes let you do all kinds of crazy amazing stuff. However, we're talking lazy working girl looks, and I happen to do my make-up on a moving train (see earlier: not getting up an hour early for this shit). If you're going to be applying things in less than ideal circumstances, cream make-up is your best friend. It doesn't explode in a cloud of dust, it doesn't break when you drop it, there's no fall-out. It is, in general, lower difficulty, can be applied with like your fingers or one of those tiny little make-up sponges, and if you get it in a fairly neutral colour (like just a bit darker or lighter than your skintone) it isn't obvious if your bleary ass messes up a little. We're being practical here, not trying to make things more difficult than it has to be.

The 'yeah I worked hard on this, bask in my glory'

Finally, the full glam. I personally use this when I am required to be Fancy, or when it's a Sunday and I'm all 'fuck it i wanna be fab'. This is the one where you just go for it. Use All the Things. Turn your face into a ghost, then paint shadows back on. Use six different eyeshadows and blend them together. Put that liquid lip to use, you have time to clean it up and try again. Add glitter to Everything. Have fun with it.

#lethey writes about life #i have no clue what i'm doing but i'm sarcastic about it #make-up

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l0vegl0wsinthedark · 6 years

Note

Hey baby! I was thinking about my favorite scenes/lines from my favorite fics and got to wondering what scenes/lines stood out to the people who wrote them. Lolol. What would you say are your top 10 favorite bits from your fics? Gimme the scoop. ❤❤

YOU SENT IT ANYWAY DAMN YOU 😂😂😂

And does it have to be ten?!

Okay omg i’ll try to go through them and pick something decent? (nope, just picking at random lmao)

1) In Your Arms, Rests My World:

“Nobody else is ever going to touch you again,” he promises fiercely. “I’ll kill the next one, I swear to God.”

Malfoy gasps. “Potter! Oh, Merlin.” He grabs Harry’s hair roughly, half sitting up in his urgency to kiss him. “Say more things like that.”

“You’re mine,” Harry says immediately, pushes him back down and kisses him again. “Never letting you go again.” He bites along Malfoy’s clenched jaw. “Mine.”

“Yours,” Malfoy assents fervently, nipping his earlobe. “You fucking wanker. All yours, only yours. Who else’s would I be?!”

“I’ll kill them all,” Harry hisses into his shoulder, and Malfoy keens softly. “Every last one.”

“Promise me,” he implores. “I swear I’ll fucking murder you in your sleep, Potter-”

“I’ll kill them all,” Harry grits through bared teeth. “I promise I’ll die before I let anything happen to you again. I promise, I fucking promise.”

Why this bit: IDK I felt like this bit was really satisfying after all the angst and shit - plus I love me a possessive/protective Harry so… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

2) Muggle ‘Drug Store’ Items:

Harry groans, throwing an arm over his eyes as Malfoy straddles his thighs with an excited grin, tugging Harry’s jeans halfway down, before rolling down his pants as well, Harry’s cock bouncing out eagerly to slap against his tanned belly.

“Oh, look, you’re all ready,” Malfoy comments happily, before leaning forward. “Wait, this doesn’t have a hole.” He pauses, holding the condom right in front of his nose, eyes crossing as he peers closely.

“You should call the manufacturers and leave that as feedback, it’d make their day,” Harry says, his voice rough, staring fixedly at the bulge in Malfoy’s snug black underpants. “Take your pants off and come sit on my face.”

“Wait.” Malfoy rolls his eyes, and jumps off the bed, returning with his wand. “I’m going to make a hole in it.”

“Why the hell, you weirdo?” Harry laughs despite himself.

“How else am I supposed to swallow?” Malfoy asks flatly and Harry chokes shut on his laugh.

Why this bit: LOL cause only Draco can buy contraceptives and then proceed to make holes in them and that’s fucking hilarious idk

3) To Those Who Wait:

It had helped that, along the way, I’d become reacquainted with the boy whom I’d hated for most of my childhood, who then, miraculously enough, turned out to be my soulmate.Yes, I know, I’m actually using the word soulmate. Like I said, I’m a practical man.

Later, we leave the windows open to coax in some of the cool, salt laden night breeze, Harry moving over me in patient, torturously slow undulations, his cock brushing my prostate every now and then in a teasing flick, my heels digging into his firm arse cheeks, my mouth gasping open under his.

“Harry,” I whisper, cradling his face with both hands, letting my lips flutter over his skin. “Please…”

“You’re my whole world,” he says abruptly, soft and breathless. “Did you know that?”

I can’t help but smile. “I had a vague inkling,” I tease gently and I kiss his laughing mouth, moaning softly as he picks up the pace.

Why this bit: Well, TBF, I picked two bits, but that’s only cause I can’t pick the whole fic (or at least the whole epilogue). Yeah, this one’s pretty close to my heart.

4) What Real Thing?:

“He has to go,” Draco repeats more vehemently. “It’s too late now– I can’t– He has to go.”

“Right.”

“I don’t even like him,” he repeats, his lip curled derisively. “I hate him, really.”

“No, you don’t,” she says quietly.

“No, I don’t,” he whispers miserably, staring into his hands.

Why this bit: Cause Draco admitting he doesn’t hate Harry is fucking precious?

5) Good Talk, Potter:

About seven pairs of eyes instantly swivelled onto me and I was quietly grateful for having worn my best shirt, I look fucking fabulous in this thing.

“Fuck you, ferret face.” Weasley’s ears still did that thing where they turned beet red and looked like they’d sizzle off his stupid head.

“Such a delight, aren’t you?” I’d smiled sweetly, still not looking at the man sitting half a foot to my left, smelling like aftershave and worn leather, looking up at me with eyes that are greener than the Malfoy grounds in spring.

Ugh, now I’m speaking in poetry?

Well, I’ve had one too many whiskeys and my thoughts tend to atrophy into doggerel by this stage – you’re not exactly the Bard of Avon yourself, let me see you come up with a decent verse or two when you’re tiddly.

Do you want me to go on or not?

Why this bit: Cause Draco ranting = endless entertainment lolol

6) Trouble:

“I actually wanted to ask you that very evening–” Potter speaks in a mumble. “–but the probability of you chucking a chair at my head was rather high, so I decided otherwise.”

“Ask me what?” Draco asks impatiently when the man doesn’t continue.

“Do you think–?” Potter scratches his ear, restlessly kicking at a stone near his foot. “Could you maybe–?” He looks rather irritated with himself so Draco purses his lips on a smile and waits, tucking his thumbs into his pockets and turning to face the man properly. “May I have my number? I mean–” He looks rather alarmed as he hurries to correct himself and Draco could feel sudden laughter bubbling up inside him. “–would you give me my number?” He looks downright horrified now and Draco has to inconspicuously bring one hand up to his mouth to hide his grin. “Your number,” Potter sighs resignedly. “May I have your number?” he finally manages to say, hanging his head and looking miserable.

Draco bursts out laughing then, although his belly is suddenly filled by a swarm of manic butterflies and his heart thuds excitedly.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Potter growls irascibly under his breath.

Why this bit: Cause Harry’s a fucking dork after being an evil, sexy little shit earlier in the fic and it’s really satisfying lol

7) Kiss The Light Back Into Me:

Harry likes to hold his hand a lot. His hands are perennially warm and when they’re wrapped around Draco’s fingers, he feels like he’ll never be cold again.

Harry’s mouth is soft and warm and his kisses are long and patient. He pins Draco to himself and kisses him like it’s his absolute favourite thing to do.

Well, it’s Draco’s favourite thing anyway.

He loves Draco’s hair and plays with it when he thinks Draco is asleep. Draco pretends to be asleep a lot.

Why this bit: Cause fluffeh goodness?

8) Luckiest Fucking Size Queen Alive:

I know what you’re thinking; Draco Malfoy, proud Slytherin, Senior Undersecretary to the Head of International Magical Cooperation, blond perfection, never one to follow the herd, hardly the type to be swayed by superficial things like the girth and length of objects, even less when said objects are attached to strangely handsome wizards, especially wizards who just happened to have saved and liberated the wizarding world before turning twenty even.

Draco Malfoy, twenty-seven and pretty darn attractive (if you ask me), who absolutely, definitely, almost certainly, probably didn’t, maybe did have a infinitesimal, itsy-bitsy, fair sized, shamefully gigantic, likely unhealthy crush on the aforementioned wizard.

Draco Malfoy who is also a sucker (occasionally, a downright slut) for sizeable cocks.

Oh, sue me, you judgemental, sanctimonious wretch. And go get a haircut.

I’m the one he eventually admits to being in love with, the words whispered reverently into my forehead, calloused hands tenderly cupping my face, his eyes soft and honest; and I’m the one he asks to move in with him six months later (golly!). I’m the one he makes breakfast for everyday, and I’m the one for whom he wakes up early on Saturdays to go buy fresh-from-the-oven pain au chocolat from that French place in Mayfair. It’s myface he sees and kisses first thing every morning and I’m the one he falls asleep pressed against every damn night.

Me, the luckiest fucking size queen alive.

Why this bit: Two bits, again; still have a dozen more fav bits. Also, Draco rants quite a bit in this one too lolol it was really hard to pick

9) (Un)Calculated Risk:

“Happy birthday,” Harry whispered, grabbing Draco’s hand where it lay on his cheek and then pressing something into it. Draco’s fingers closed around the Snitch and he looked back up at Harry with a soft snort. “I keep my promises.” Harry winked.

And with another kiss to Draco’s wryly grinning mouth, he was zooming away, leaving Draco there with the winning Snitch and jauntily flying away with his heart.

Why this bit: Cause Harry being a smooth, romantic AF fucker gives me life.

10) Hurt Me, Fuck Me (Just Don’t Hate Me):

“Fuck, Malfoy,” Potter pants into his neck.

“You just did,” Draco drawls, his balls quopping with the need to come. “Eat me out,” he tells Potter, and lifts his knees up to his shoulders as Potter more than amiably slithers down and obliges.

Why this bit: Because @bixgirl1 would’ve brought the roof down if I’d picked any other bit

Bonus (even tho like literally nobody asked for it and I whinged about doing the first ten):

11) Just Go With It:

“Challenge accepted.” Harry sat up, kicking the covers off himself vigorously and accidentally catching Baguette with one heel. “Shit, Baguette, I’m so sorry!”

“What the fuck, Potter? Why do you keep yelling at a loaf of bread?!”

“It’s not—it’s my pet ferret! I accidentally kicked her.”

“…You have a pet ferret?”

Harry hurriedly tamped down a laugh. “Y-yeah, her name’s Baguette.”

“Why?!”

“Why do I have a pet ferret, or why is she named Baguette?”

“All of it! Why?!”

Why this bit: Because when @o0o-chibaken-o0o suggested I name the ferret Baguette, I didn’t realise what a celebrity that sassy little furry’s going to become. But she did! Plus, they have phone sex right after this bit, so.

12) All The Sense In The World:

“I take it you’ve spotted my arsehole by now,” Malfoy bit out. “So go ahead and put one finger in, Potter.” Harry blinked and looked around, registering the instruction at last.

“W-with the lube, right?” he blurted uncertainly. Malfoy pursed his lips.

“No, Potter, the lube is just for moral support – to sit there in your hand in case you need something to hold—yes, with the lube!”

Why this bit: It wasn’t until a number of readers pointed out this bit as being funny that I realised it too because Draco is such a salty bitch even when he’s seconds away from having his arse fingered open lmao

(I feel like I’ve let down my other works now D:)

THIS TOOK WAY LONGER THAN I EXPECTED AND I ENJOYED IT WAY MORE THAN I INTENDED TO DAMN YOU @bixgirl1 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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kawaiipsycho101srpblog · 6 years

Text

Righteous Side of Hell--Ch.1

(NOTE: I’ll only be posting the first few chapters of this fic, so if you want to read the rest, you’ll have to go to my main blog, my ff.net page, or my AO3 [all have the name KawaiiPsycho101]. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!)

1. That! That!

You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.

It had taken a while, but with Ryuk’s assistance, I’d finally been able to track down the current owner of my notebook to a local mafia faction. The mere idea of these thugs possessing my Death Note, using it, defiling it, made me sick to my stomach.

“You’re all scum, ya know that?” I said to the oblivious men and women. “Worthless, life-sucking scum,” I could see the back of a head with silken blonde hair extending a graceful, well-toned arm. In its gloved-covered hand was my notebook.

A woman, huh? That’s actually rather impressive. Don’t see many godmothers these days.

“I look forward to murdering you all slowly and painfully,” I continued as I began to head towards her. “Your screams will bring me absolute pleasure, and only when you’ve begged for the sweet release of death will I holy shit, you’re a guy.”

Indeed, sitting before me on a tacky zebra-striped sofa was an attractive young man sporting a pair of tight leather pants with a matching vest. Dangling from the corner of his black-lipsticked mouth was a bar of chocolate that bobbed up and down with the movement of his jaw as he chewed, occasionally bumping against the wooden rosary around his neck. I glanced down and blinked at the most-likely loaded gun snugged securely in the front of his trousers. I looked up at his name and found the words Mihael Keehl floating above his head. Mihael was a boy’s name, last time I checked.

My notebook is in the hands of a blonde, leather-wearing, chocolate-munching, gun-toting, possibly-sociopathic, pretty boy?!

I slowly rubbed a hand down my face and sighed.

“Of course. Sure. Why the fuck not?”

After a few more seconds of staring at the oddity, I decided it was time to make contact.

He can’t see me until Snydar touches it. Guess I’ll have to wait...

A few seconds later...

Fuck this shit!

I plucked the notebook out of the blonde’s hands, giggling at the look of pure shock plastered on his face, and slapped it against Snydar’s cheek before dropping it in his lap.

“The...The notebook just flew.”

“Heh, it’s a notebook that kills people. Hell, nothing surprises me anymore,” said a fellow mobster named Dwhite Gordan, a beefcake who only wore a suit-jacket to hide his chest.

Nothing surprises you, eh? Just wait...

I watched as Snydar turned around and saw me, his eyes growing to the size of dinner plates.

“Ha! You should see your face right now!”

“AAHHH!” He fell out of his seat and pointed at me. “Boss, who is this?! The guy in the freaky costume?! Who the Hell is he?! Who brought him here?!”

“You idiot, don’t you know a shinigami when you see one?”

“A shinigami?” He began to laugh hysterically.

“That’s right. Now if I were you, I’d have the others touch the notebook before the men in white come and take you to the Happy Home.” I pointed at the Death Note. “Go on.”

Snydar picked up the notebook with shaking hands and looked at me, then his cohorts.

“It says you can see it if you touch the notebook! Please, everyone touch it! I swear I’m not crazy!”

Everyone looked at Dwhite, and I realized that he must be their leader, which struck me as strange. I’d been almost certain that Mihael was the one in charge, seeing as he was the one lounging around like he owned the place and examining my notebook like it was a shiny new toy, plus the sense of leadership and authority that practically radiated from him.

Then again, he’s awfully young...Perhaps he’s a second-in-command...Still though, for someone so young to make it this far in the mafia...

I was snapped out of my thoughts when Dwhite gave an annoyed grunt.

“Fine, whatever. Come on guys, touch the notebook.”

Just as the first person’s hand was inches away from the book, I got a brilliant idea and quickly went through the wall closest to me.

“Well Jack, where is it?”

“It was right there, I swear! Just now!”

“Sure it was.” I heard a mumbled agreement from the other men in the room, figuring that by now they had all touched the notebook, and made my move, sliding through the wall as quickly as I’d left.

“WHAAAAZZZZZUUUUHHHP?”

The screams and gunshots that followed were music to my ears. I hadn’t laughed so hard in years. I was still trying to keep my sides from splitting by the time they calmed down.

“Jack’s right,” Dwhite muttered. “That ain’t no costume. That’s a real-life shinigami.”

“Damn straight,” I snickered.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing really, just my notebook.”

“Your notebook?”

“Yes, my notebook.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“How do we know it’s yours?”

“Flip to the inside of the back cover and you’ll find a series of symbols scratched into the material of the lower right-hand corner. Those are my initials, which translated to the English alphabet, would be A.K.A.” The mobsters did as they were told and, sure enough, my initials were there.

“Okay, so it’s your notebook. Doesn’t mean we have to give it back to you.”

“Au contraire, my bald, muscular friend. You see, I don’t have long to live, and if I don’t write down some names in that Death Note soon, I will die. And if I die, that notebook will burst into flames. And if the Death Note is destroyed, you will all die in thirteen days.” The mobster’s faces all paled at my last sentence. If Ryuk hadn’t told me about the fake rules he’d written in my notebook, I wouldn’t have had my bargaining chip. “Tell you what, since I’m such a nice shinigami, I’ll make you a deal. Let me borrow the notebook for a little while so I can write some names down and expand my life-span, then I’ll give it right back as soon as I’m done with it, okay?”

As I spoke, I couldn’t help but notice that the blonde seemed unusually calm considering the situation he was in; not every day could someone talk to a shinigami. But his eyes never left my own, and I could practically see the gears in his head working at break-neck speed.

“How do we know you won’t just run away with the notebook? Or write all of our names down, and then run away?” My attention returned to the head mobster before me.

“A few reasons: one, the human has to willingly surrender the notebook in order for it to be returned to its original owner. Second, I can tell by looking at your lifespans that not that many of you have long to live, so why should I bother killing you if your deaths won’t be that much use to me? And thirdly, do I look like the kind of shinigami that would go back on its word?” I smirked under my scarf and held out my hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll only need it for a few minutes, and I promise I’ll give it back.”

“But-”

“Just give it the notebook, Rod. I think it’s telling the truth.”

There was a brief silence before the mob boss spoke.

“Are you sure, Mello?”

Wait, WHAT?

“Yes.”

“Alright then.” Without another word he handed me my notebook, and I took it from him while doing my best to hide my sudden anxiety.

Did he say...? No...no, it can’t be...I must have misheard.

“Thank you.” I pulled a pen from my belt and flipped to a fresh page in the notebook. “Any preferences?”

“No, thanks. We already took care of that.”

“Ah. Excuse me.” I stepped past him and sat cross-legged on the floor facing a TV. It was a news show; an anchorwoman was posing before a camera with a lot of bystanders standing behind her. “Perfect.”

I picked my victims, and the causes and times of their deaths, at random, while throwing in some criminals for good measure, but not enough for the men watching me to notice. After a couple minutes, I’d written down enough names to last me for a very long time.

“There,” I slapped the notebook shut. “I should be set for the next couple hundred years or so.” I stood up and handed it back to Rod. “I told you I was a shinigami of my word.”

“Right...” he said uncomfortably.

“What’s wrong? Still put off by my appearance?” I cleared my throat and threw my voice around until it was a perfect imitation of his. “Or is it the voice? Does the way I talk upset you?”

The man’s eyes widened.

“How...how are you doing that?”

“It’s a quirk.” I grinned, knowing that my voice trick was putting everyone in a state of unease.

I’ll have these pigs in the palm of my hand in no time.

“Umm...Could you please,” mumbled one of the other mobsters. “Not do that?”

“Well, since you asked nicely...” I reverted back to my normal way of speaking. “Sure.”

“Shinigami.” I looked at the blonde on the couch, and was surprised to find that he was still remarkably composed. The way he looked at me...It felt like he was sizing me up, figuring out various ways I could be of use to him, and then when and how to dispose of me once he was through. This was a man used to getting what he wanted, and anyone who got in his way would most assuredly wind up with a bullet lodged into their skull. Normally I despised people like this, and frankly, he was no exception; and yet, the more I studied him, I realized that unlike other pompous brats, he had the skill to back up his bravado. I hated to admit it, but I was starting to respect him.

Maybe...there’s a chance it might be him...But I have to be certain.

“Yes?”

“What’s your name?”

“You can call me A for now.” I noticed how his brow twitched ever so slightly, as if maybe I’d struck a nerve. “Or ‘Shinigami’, or whatever. I don’t really care.”

“Then tell me...A,” he asked, taking a bite of his chocolate. “Is there anything else we need to know about the Death Note? Any other rules or limitations to who we can kill?”

I got an idea and smirked.

“There are, but I don’t like giving things away without getting something in return. So, how about another deal?”

“What do you want?”

“That.” I pointed to his chocolate. “Give me some of that, and I’ll answer any questions you have with the utmost sincerity. No lies, no tricks.”

“Done.” He grabbed another chocolate bar off of a table next to him and tossed it to me, which I easily caught. I carefully unwrapped it, the smell instantly making my mouth water. I lowered my scarf and heard quiet mutterings from the others as they saw my razor-sharp teeth. As I bit into the sweetness, letting the taste melt into my tongue, my eyes rolled back into my head and I felt my knees buckle a little. A low moan escaped the back of my throat as I savored every single bite.

Oh, sweet motherfucking Christ, yes.

As I finished it off, I placed my palms together and closed my eyes for a brief second in an almost-reflexive sign of thanks. I didn’t really notice I was doing it until I’d opened my eyes again.

Huh...that’s odd.

I quickly put the thought out of my mind and positioned my scarf back over my mouth with a grin.

“The thirteen-day rule is totally bogus. Also, if I die, the notebook will not be affected; the same would also apply to me if the notebook is destroyed.”

“You mean those rules are fake?!” Rod cried.

“That’s what I said.”

“So earlier,” one of the mobsters grumbled. “When you wanted to borrow the notebook, you were-”

“Playing you for a bunch of chumps? Yes, yes I was.”

“But why? Why would you put in fake rules?” The blonde’s gaze narrowed.

“I didn’t, someone else did.”

“Who?”

“No idea,” I lied. “Most likely another shinigami. Probably did it to mess with a human. Ya know, shits and giggles. Oh, and you’ll probably want to know about the eye-trade.”

“Eye-trade?”

“A shinigami’s eyes can see a person’s real name and lifespan above their heads. In exchange for half of the current owner’s remaining lifespan, I can give him those eyes. And speaking of names, would you mind telling me how to pronounce yours?” His cerulean eyes narrowed as I squinted at the floating letters above his head. “I can read it, but I can’t figure out how you’re supposed to say it. Is it-?”

“That’s enough!” His outburst almost made me flinch. “I go by Mello, understand? Nothing else.”

Ho. Ly. Shit. It is him. It has to be!

“Alright, alright,” I raised my hands in a position of mock-surrender. “No need to get snippy.”

Mello quickly cooled down and resumed his leisurely position on the couch, his body practically draped over the cushions like a model about to be drawn nude.

“Are you serious about this eye-trade?”

“Quite. But I can only make the deal with the current owner of my Death Note,” I turned to Snydar. “That would be you.”

“Make the deal, Jack,” Rod ordered.

“Wh-what?!”

“You heard me. Make the deal for the shinigami eyes.”

“But I’ll lose half of-” It was at this point Snydar noticed the way Rod was reaching into his jacket. “Ya know, on second thought, I’d like to make to the eye-trade.”

“Atta boy.”

“So, uh...” Snydar looked at me. “How does this...umm, happen? What are you going to do?”

“Just close your eyes and hold very still.” He did as instructed and I gently placed my hand on top of his head. “Now, I’ve never done this before, so it may take a few tries,” I didn’t know whether to mock or pity the man as he started to tremble. “But it shouldn’t hurt a bit.” I focused for a second and felt a strange tingling in the hand that was on Snydar’s head which quickly shot up my arm and dissipated. “Annnnnd done. You can open your eyes now.” He did so, revealing bright red irises which quickly faded back to his natural eye color. “Congratulations, you are now that much closer to death.”

And I’m that much closer to getting my Death Note back...

“What do you see?” Mello asked.

“Names...” Snydar whispered. “And numbers. Are those their lifespans?”

“Yeah, but they’re done in the numeral language of the shinigami. To translate it to human calculations, you’d need a calculator and a great deal of time, depending on how precise you’d want it to be.”

“Excellent.” Rod thumped Snydar on the back. “Now we’re in business.”

“Thank you, A.” Mello smiled. “You have been very helpful.”

I felt something stir deep inside of me. A quiver just below my stomach that sent tingles up my spine and made my lower extremities throb ever so slightly. The sensation was new, yet faintly familiar. I almost gagged when I realized what it was.

Oh no, nope, nuh-unh, don’t even think about it, don’t you dare feel attracted to him ah shit, too late.

“No problem.” The inside of my mouth felt like sandpaper. “Any other questions?”

“I think we’re good for now.” His smile disappeared, as did the sickening feeling, and I inwardly sighed with relief. “We’ll let you know if we have any more questions, but for now, you can keep watch outside.”

“Excuse me?” I couldn’t quite believe what I’d just heard.

“It’ll be very convenient for us that you can’t be seen by humans. Go outside and keep watch, got it?”

In another time, I would have pissed my pants and ran at the look he gave me then. It was goddamn creepy. But I had changed since then, and had grown used to these kinds of gazes. If anything, I thought it was extremely humorous.

“Heh...heheheh...” His left eye twitched in surprise as my giggles turned into guffaws of laughter. Everyone stared, bewildered, as my voice rose and fell, cracking in its insane cackles.

“What’s so funny?” Mello asked, irked.

“You are!” I chuckled. “You are without a doubt the strangest human being I have ever encountered! Your appearance! Your intelligence! Your chocolate and leather fetishes! And now you’re givin’ me friggin’ orders! Me! A goddamned shinigami! A being that has every single person in this room terrified except for you! The whole thing just strikes me as hilarious!”

I continued to laugh maniacally as the blonde glared at me with the icy daggers that were his eyes. Eventually, I began to calm down.

“Finished?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I’ll give you this though, you’re probably also the bravest human I’ve seen; it takes some serious guts to boss around a death god.”

There was a brief pause as my words sunk in. I had a feeling I had said what everyone else had once thought at one point or another. Mello was a very strange person. Brilliant yes, but strange...and maybe a bit psychotic, but hey, I wasn’t one to judge.

“So, are you going to keep watch, or not?”

My lips clenched into a scowl as my good humor immediately dissolved.

“Okay, let’s make something explicitly, perfectly clear here.” I took a few steps toward him. “The only reason I’m here is because shinigami law requires me to be. That does not make me your servant, alright? You do not get to order me around like one of these shit-for-brains asshats.” I motioned to the group of men surrounding us, stopping once I was right in front of him. He hadn’t moved an inch, his face only expressing the slightest hint of emotion. It was really starting to tick me off. “So, do we have an understanding?”

There was a tense silence, the people in the room waiting with bated breath for Mello’s response, until...

“Do it, and I’ll give you more chocolate.”

-snap!-

Before I knew what I was doing, I’d grabbed the blonde by the throat and yanked him to his feet. He audibly gasped in surprise and pain as I slammed his back against the wall above the couch. I found it immensely pleasing.

“Listen well, Pretty Boy, because I’m only going to say this once,” I leaned in close until we were perfectly eye-level. “Don’t fuck with me. Fuck with me, and you’ll regret it. You have my word on that.”

I dropped him back on the sofa-cushions and he glared up at me with hate-filled eyes.

“You...you...” He was so angry, he couldn’t think of anything to say. I knew that feeling well.

“Maybe when you’re ready to treat with me some respect, we can try this again.” I placed a hand on his shoulder, tightening my grip when he tried to shake it off, and leaned in again, hissing into his ear. “Your tricks won’t work on me. I’ve been dealing with your type for a long time now. I’m used to it.”

My type?” Mello whispered, caught off-guard again as I released his shoulder and stood up.

“Anyway, if you have any more questions regarding the Death Note, just give me a holler. Later.”

Black, feathery wings popped out of my back, and I flew up and out of the hideout so fast that Mello’s enraged shouts just barely reached my ears as faint whispers. I smiled in content as I settled on a high tree-branch, but it didn’t last long as I began to think about the recklessness of my past actions, and the young man whom was currently handling my notebook.

Hmm...Short-tempered, calculating, a bit on the arrogant side, chocolate addiction, late teens...There’s no doubt about it...It’s the Mello he told me about...

I held up my left arm and pulled down the shirt-sleeve, revealing a single letter carved into the flesh of my wrist and a list of names beneath it. Using the sharp tip of my pen, I began to add the names of the people I’d sentenced to death just a few minutes prior. I hoped that the familiar pain would be enough to distract me from my rapidly growing feeling of dread.

This might change things...

Alternate title for this chapter: HEYKIDSWANNASEEADEADBODY?

And before you ask, yes, Mello wearing black lipstick is totally canon. Don’t believe me? Look it up. Fabulous, no?

#death note #fanfiction #my work #Righteous Side of Hell #AKA

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