#harass the hell outta the cops

[c4rdkingd0m]

Alright you guys know we’re not the type to be shy about this type of stuff so I’m gonna yell it out for the dumbasses in the back who are ignoring or downplaying this situation:

NEX BENEDICT WAS MURDERED. IT WASN’T A FIGHT. HE WAS MURDERED IN COLD BLOOD BY A SYSTEM THAT WASN’T BUILT FOR PEOPLE LIKE HIM.

The media is erasing who he was. His name was Nex Benedict, not anything else. Friends have revealed he preferred he/him pronouns. He was an indigenous two-spirit person who had been bullied for a year, if not more.

Rest in power, Nex. We will never forget you, and we will keep fighting for you to at the very least have a peaceful grave. We will keep fighting for your identity, for the life you should’ve lived.

You could’ve been famous for another reason. Instead, people know who you are because you are dead. And we won’t rest until the decisions that led to your death haunt those who let you die forever.

#important #nex benedict #rest in power #we will never forget #and we’re going to keep fighting #no matter how long it takes #you didn’t deserve that #and i hope you’re in a much better place now #justice for nex benedict #make sure to contact anyone you can about this #harass the hell outta the cops #harass the hell outta the school #make sure the monsters who let him die don’t get a good nights rest

[miyuhpapayuh]

three.

Zora and Nique sit on her L-shaped sofa, while she fills her friend in on what's been going down.

“You told him where you work??”

“He saw the logo on my jacket, girl.”

“And you ain't cover it??”

“Damn, is he a murderer??”

“That's how you treat ‘em!”

“Yeah, well…”

“Well…?”

“He's different.”

“Wow, you ate them words up!”

Zora rolls her eyes, holding her hands up.

“Yeah, you were right. He's real cool people.”

“Wow, I was right!” Nique claps.

“Aight, don't gloat yourself outta my apartment.” She points, right as her phone begins to ring.

It was Leon.

“Ooo put it on speaker!”

“No? You don't know how to act.”

“Oh come on, I just wanna know what he sounds like!”

“A man. He sounds like a man.”

“Zora, spare the drama and answer the phone.”

Sighing, she answers the call and reluctantly places it on speaker, greeting him.

“Hey Leon,” an effortless smile makes Nique squeal behind her hand.

“Hey Zora. How ya doin’?” His buttery, deep voice comes through.

“Ooo, it's so deep!” She whispers, but it's more of a yell.

“I know!” Zora responds in the same fashion, before answering him.

“I'm good. How was your day?”

“Eh, no broken glass stories today, so I guess that's something, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she laughs, “that's something.”

“I'm stalling, but I wanted to ask if you'd like to come with me to one of my favorite spots. It's a food joint, called What The Fries?™.”

The gasp she lets out enthuses him, same with Nique.

“Sorry, I just always wanted to check it out. I've never seen fries be created in so many ways! I'd love to go with you.”

He smiles bright like she can see him.

“Yeah? Well I'm glad I get to be the one to take you there. And it's better than you're expecting, I promise. How's about this Saturday? Are you working?”

“Uh,” she ponders for a minute, “no I'm actually off, so that's perfect. What time were you thinking?”

“Hm, maybe around three? Sounds good?”

“Sounds good.” She repeats.

“Great, I'll send you the address.”

“Okay,” she says, “can't wait to indulge and talk without an extra set of eyes on us.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I know right. He been keepin’ his distance?”

She takes the phone off speaker and continues talking, making Nique roll her eyes.

“He has! I'm shocked, actually.”

“Well good. His job description ain't said nothing about him harassing you, so it should always be a good ten feet–”

“Mm-mm,” she cuts him off, “twenty-five feet. His ass needs to be damn near invisible.”

He laughs, agreeing with her. “Yeah, he does seem like the hardheaded type.”

“He was pressed as hell once you left. It was really comical.”

“What he say?”

“Asking all these questions about who you were and why you mean mugged his dumb ass, as if he ain't already know.” She snickers.

“You tell him?”

“Nah, I like watching him squirm. Ain't no satisfaction in telling the enemy his just desserts is comin’. Gotta watch it play out if he feelin’ froggy.”

“Tell him to leap, cause I stay ready.”

She was giggling way too much for her own liking, but damn he was hilarious. She knew he was serious, too.

“He don't heed warnings, neither. So y'all might be squabblin’ for real.” She says, looking over at Nique, who's got a huge smile on her face.

“But, anyway. I gotta go. I kinda abandoned my friend to talk to you.” She jokes, earning a shove from her.

“Ah, tell friend I said wassup!”

“He said wassup, friend.” She repeats, looking back in her direction.

She clears her throat and shouts out a hey boyfriend, earning a shove of her own.

“I like her,” he laughs.

“Yeah, I'm sure you do.”

“Well, I'll let y'all get back to it. I look forward to Saturday, ma'am.”

“So do I, dear. You have a good evening.”

“You too.”

After hanging up, she didn't even turn her head good before Nique started.

“Do you hear church bells?! Cause I do!” She snickers.

“Man, come on. We just met like three days ago.”

“And? I ain't seen a smile that big since what's-his-name.”

“Mm. Don't bring that bitch up.”

“Hey, I offered to get the cops called on ‘em, he got warrants and he looks terrible in orange. That's a hit I'm ready to put out, but you won't let me.” She shrugs, making Zora laugh.

“Cause he ain't worth it. He’ll get caught up on his own time. Now, onto more important matters.”

“Yeah, like you got a bodyguard now. Someone scared freckle-face’s dumb ass??”

“I know, I was shocked too! But Leon's got this intimidating stature, especially if you're a scrawn-no-brawn like Cory.”

“How mean was that mug, chile?”

“Vicious,” she snorts. “You'd think Cory crossed his ass in a past life or something. It wasn't friendly at all.”

“That boy better keep it cute,” Nique shakes her head. “Cause I'd hate to attend his funeral.”

“Dramatic as hell. He not gon die— not at the hands of Leon, that is. I can't save him from nobody else.”

“Hell, I kinda wanna see ‘em fight now!”

“Me too!” She laughs.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Saturday rolled around quicker than Zora anticipated, and she was kinda relieved that he'd planned such a low key first date.

The sun was back, high in the sky, giving her motivation to pull the three day old bun from her head and pick her curls out. She was very grateful that the hair goddesses were on her side.

Mid-seventies weather called for a sundress and she picked the bright orange one from the stack, feeling like an extra spice would do her day some good.

Framing her chestnut curls around her face, she added her new tiger eye bracelet to the nameplate necklace and studs that are always on her person.

Sliding her feet into her wedged sandals, she grabbed her keys and headed to the long awaited spot, where Leon was happily waiting on her.

As if her scent got there before she did, he'd looked up the moment she walked up the sidewalk to the outdoor seating, where he was perched on a bench.

“Hey Zora, you look beautiful.” He greets her with a hug, both of them holding on a little longer.

“Thank you, Leon. You clean up nice.” She responds once they let go and she can take in his fit; a crisp white tee, light wash jeans and seafoam air jordan’s.

He looked good.

He smiles, thanking her before holding the door for her as they head into the white, brick building and order their food.

“I'm paying, so don't try and give me the runaround.” He half jokes, and she just looks up at him and sighs.

“Fine, fine.”

It didn't take her long to figure out what she wanted to indulge in, once she saw bacon, cheese and fries in the same sentence.

Leon was in the mood for a burger and loaded fries, same as hers.

Grabbing their food and heading back outside, the pair get comfy on the bench he was sitting on when she first arrived, sitting a few inches apart.

“Try it,” he nudges, while she stares at it, trying to find a place to attack it.

“I gotta find the right forkful, hol’on,” she chuckles, sticking her fork into the left side where there's a hunk of bacon and cheese.

Taking a bite, she sighs while chewing. He watches with an amused smirk.

“Does that mean you like it?” He asks, biting into his own burger.

“Yeah, it's really good,” she goes back in for a couple more bites, washing it down with her soda.

“How's your burger?” She asks, looking over at him.

“It's delicious. Second time I've had it, it hasn't disappointed me.”

“Good. Now, let's get into the warehouse job you got. Is it like Amazon?”

“Honestly? My granddad got me the job, to keep me outta trouble, but yes it's like Amazon. Smaller scale."

“Mmm, so you are trouble?” She smirks, amused at his laugh.

“I used to be a hothead, I guess you can say. But once you hit thirty, you look around and don't see the people you used to run with no more or they're bad off because the bullshit we used to get into done caught up with ‘em, and I didn't want that to be me. I try and live the straight and narrow life these days.” He explains.

She nods.

“Well, turning over a new leaf is always a good thing. I'm proud of you, even though we've only known each other for about a week.” She smiles.

“Has it been a good week?” He asks.

“Yeah,” she nods, “it has.”

“I love to hear that.”

“I love to say it. You know how many times I've tried to connect with these mamas’ lil dusty sons and they're all simple, slow and stupid? Too many.” She says with the straightest face, making him contemplate on holding his laugh in or not.

“You can laugh, but I'm serious,” she says, not even getting the sentence out as they both cave, wiping tears away as they come back to the point.

“I'm sorry, mama. That was too funny.” He sighs, and the nickname he'd just donned her with doesn't escape her.

“I-I'm serious, it's real bad out here, so don't make me take my words back and fight you.” She points her finger at him.

Holding his hands up in surrender, he flashes a smile. “I promise. I've never stepped out on anybody that ever gave me the time of day.”

“Mhm,”

“You don't believe me? You can personally ask all both of ‘em.”

“All– Leon, you've only had two girlfriends?” She questions, squinting at him as she takes another bite of her fries.

“What I gotta lie for?” He asks with another chuckle.

“I'm sorry, and don't take this the wrong way but… you are too fine to have only gone steady with two women.”

“While I'm flattered, I'm serious. My first girlfriend, Tia. We were in kindergarten, and while you don't think that's serious, we went steady all the way til seventh grade.”

“Really??”

“Yeah, we'd been neighbors since diapers or whatever, and our parents always said we'd either be enemies or friends, and we doubled it on the good side!” He laughs.

“Aw, that's the cutest thing I've ever heard. Seven years.”

“Yeah, you don't think about it when you're a kid, but yeah we were about thirteen or so, shared our actual first kiss and then things got all weird. Puberty was and still is the blame and we've actually agreed on this.”

“Was it an ugly breakup?”

“As ugly as it could be at that age, I suppose. She crossed the fence like usual, but she didn't look happy. In fact, I remember her crying and I didn't understand it then, but I totally got it years later. She felt like we couldn't be in a relationship and be friends like we were, and of course cause we didn't even know how to balance our own feelings, at the time. But I was angry. Accusatory, knowing I couldn't blame her for feeling the way she did, and we didn't talk for a long while.”

“Wow,” she says, waiting for him to continue.

“Well, I apologized, of course.” He laughs, making her do the same. “And she forgave me, and I was able to forgive myself. We're not as close as we used to be, but anytime she needs ol Leon to be a friend, I'm here.”

“Aw, how sweet of you.”

“Yeah, I do what I can, ya know?”

“Mhm. So what you do to the other one?”

“Oh, I'm sure you don't wanna hear about that.” He shakes his head.

“See, it's something you're afraid of sharing with me already?”

“Nah, it's just a little less cinematic.”

“So? If you're telling it, it's gonna be animated anyhow.”

“Cheap shots just keep getting cheaper,” he singsongs.

“Tell the story, Leon,” she mocks in the same fashion.

“Alright, fine. Sophomore year of high school to a little after our college graduation. Candy. Yes, that's her actual name. She was the wild girl to my wild boy. Anything you think we got into, we did it twice.” He shakes his own head.

“Tagged a building?” She asks.

“Try the whole neighborhood.” He scoffs. Her mouth drops.

“Y'all cut curfew and snuck in each other's dorms, didn't you?”

“We got caught so many times.” He answers, shaking his head at himself, again.

“Lord have mercy, I'm not gon guess no more.”

“Good, cause the answer might’ve been the same.” He laughs.

“Okay, alright. So what happen? She find another wild boy?”

“She found many other wild boys and left my ass in the dust, yes she did.”

“Damn, that's so harsh.”

“Can you imagine one of 'em being your friend?” He adds, making her mouth drop open again.

“What?!”

“Yeah, I definitely beat his ass.” He nods.

“That was my follow up question! I'm glad you did, cause what the hell? How'd you–”, she recollects and lowers her heightening tone, “how did you find out?”

“A little after graduation, she was supposed to be going to get her nails done with her girls for the party that night. But instead, she'd buttdialed me while they were making out. She told him that she was gonna dump me and they were gonna move in together and whatever the hell else.”

“I know you not supposed to lay a finger on her, but did you flick her ass in the nose at least?” She asks, reminding him of his fiery ass aunt.

“Nah, I got sisters to handle that. But even then, she wasn't worth it. Her stuff was definitely waiting for her on the curb and I went on my way.”

“Wow, I'm sorry that happened to you.”

He shrugs. “It's not the worst thing that's happened.”

“Yeah, I understand that. We've all got our woes.”

He nods, and they take a few minutes to continue eating. Enjoying the sun as it gets to its most golden point, shining down on their kissed skin.

“I get to hear about your woes?” He asks.

“Eh, they end up just like Candy. Their shit on the curb,” she clears her throat, “maybe a tire or three slashed.”

He gasps. “What??”

“You only get in trouble if you slash all four. If you're gonna do it, do it correctly.” She quips.

“Touché.”

“Plus, he deserved it. He slept with the bitch that tried to break into my car.”

“That pretty little bug over there?” He points just down the way.

“Yeah, she's been thuggin’ it out with me for a while now.” She gives a fond smile.

“Did you beat her ass?”

“And his, too.” She says with a roll of her neck, causing another gleaming smile and hearty laugh to come her way.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Stepping out of her wedges, she cracks her toes on her plush rug and sighs. The stereo is currently playing one of her old mixes off a burned cd. Her phone starts ringing, sending her back towards her bed to retrieve it.

“Hey ma,” she sings.

“Hey, my baby. How was your day?”

“It was actually really good,” she nods, placing her phone on speaker and she shifts through her t-shirts.

“Yeah? What happened?”

“Ugh, Pamela, don't be so nosy.” She snorts, knowing her mother would jerk her collar if she were near.

“Zora-Jean.”

“You and Nique, and that damn Zora-Jean! Please!” She laughs again, pulling the dark green, ninja turtles tee from the pile.

It's country, I know. But I love it. What else was your middle name supposed to be?” Pam questions.

“Yeah, you're right. I guess I'll relax. Just a little. Ooh, I wasn't supposed to tell on her, but she's been riding me all day bout shit— Nique first-named you on the phone the other night.”

“No she didn't!” She hollers.

“Yes she did!” Zora hollers back.

“Lord have mercy, Ima have to kick her where the sun don't shine.” She says, making Zora fall out in laughter.

“You so crazy, girl,” her mother remarks, as she comes back to. “But, why was your day so good? Yeah I'm being nosy, cause you usually always telling me about Cody… Cody?”

“Cory.”

“Yeah, him. Or some patron and their rude asses. So wassup? You find you some new flowers? Ooh, did you see the ones I shared with you?”

“Yes ma, I saw them. I liked the red bunch, that was really pretty, but no I already have my bunch for the next two weeks.”

“Okay so…”

“I met a man.” She smiles.

“Oh, you met a man.” She draws out.

“Yeah, a man.”

“Alright, what's different about this one?”

“He's an open book. First time I've seen, wrapped in mahogany brown skin. He's so fine, mama.”

“Ah, he knows how to communicate? Don't applaud a fish for swimmin’, Jean.”

Zora sucks her teeth, plopping down on the bed.

“You asked what was different, that's different. Jesus ma, relax.”

“You and this relax,”

“Try it, sometime. I think he's cool. He's a goof. Real tall and lanky, but muscular where it counts, like a voluptuous woman loves, apparently. That's what I seem to keep attracting, so… maybe this time it could be different. Can we leave some room for some hope? That's a lot for me too, but i'm doing it.”

Pamela sighs, taking in her youngest daughter's words.

“I hear you, baby. There's always room for hope.”

Ch 4

@sheabuttahwrites @thegifstories @blackerthings @blackpinup22 @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ghostfacekill-monger @harmshake @nayaxwrites @cecereads209 @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy @twistedcharismaaa @soufcakmistress

#mochaff #zora x leon #miyuhpapayuh #poc writers #blackwriters #black romance #yahya abdul mateen ii fan fiction

[ashintheairlikesnow]

BBU Community Days

@bbu-on-the-side * {Day 8} Barcode

-

CW: Police harassment, derogatory/demeaning language, prostitution, implied dubcon

The asshole officer shines a flashlight right in his face, half-blinding him, and he winces and turns his face away. "What the fuck-"

"I said turn it over. Show me."

"Show you what?"

The officer sighs, sounding wearied, and the runaway pet wants to punch him in his stupid smug face. He thinks he's tired? He didn't spend the last day hiding from pouring rain that has streets flooded and people in rain boots half-wading when they have to go out. "You know what. Turn your wrist over and show me your barcode."

"I don't have to do anything." The pet's chin juts out, eyes narrowed to slits against the glare of light still aimed right at him. "Come back with a fucking warrant."

"Okay, I would, but you aren't in a house. You aren't even inside. This is an alley. This is public space and you are causing discomfort to the people who actually do live here. Come on, Boxie, wrist out. Let me see it."

"I don't have a fucking barcode. What, is it illegal to sit now? I'm just sitting. I'm not harming anyone."

The officer looks like he might just sigh so heavily with irritation that he blacks out. The pet waits, a little hopeful, but it doesn't happen. "Listen. Look. You get up and walk away, I'll pretend I never saw you. Nice people in this neighborhood, they don't want you whoring around for your dinner, got it?"

His heart stops - for just a second - before it beats again. He swallows, hard. Some of his defiance has faded before he finds a retort. "What-... What makes you think-"

"I've seen you before, buddy. Down by the warehouse district."

"Why not arrest my John?"

"Your John?"

"Well, how the hell did you think I got here from the warehouse district in the first place, numbnuts? We were having a good time til his fucking girlfriend called."

"... Jesus. Come on. Up you go, get outta here and I won't even look. Just get."

He doesn't have a choice. The runaway pushes himself uneasily to his feet, watching as the cop backs up to give him some space. There's that, at least.

His stomach growls.

When did he eat last? Shit. A day ago? Two?

The flashlight is pointed down, now, and he can see the cop's face. Honestly, he's seen worse. The guy looks pretty fit, too. And Jesus, he's so hungry...

"I don't suppose you'd give me a ride," He says, cocking his head to the side. Defiance slips into practiced seduction with only a shiver of self-loathing down his spine. "I can pay for it."

"Don't bribe me. You don't have a fucking cent or you wouldn't be a whore, Boxie."

"I didn't say I'd pay with money." He smiles, like this is a silly flirty joke between them. "Trust me, I'm good at this. I'm so good. Don't you ever wonder what fucking a Romantic is like? Like a Lamborghini with spread legs, yeah? You drive me back to the warehouse district, you don't check my barcode, and I make this the best shift you've worked in days..."

The cop thinks, jaw working, looking off to one side and then the other. The pet watches him take off his wedding ring and slip it into his pocket with a mix of triumph and hatred.

"Right. Yeah. Get in the back. We'll find a place to park."

His heart thumps and his wrist itches under the ink as he slides into the back of the squad car, with doors that don't open from the inside and a screen he can't break through. Maybe he'll be murdered and dumped in a ditch somewhere. Maybe the cop will just take him to jail.

Or maybe he really will drive him back.

It's always a roll of the dice when he offers himself for a ride.

Sooner or later he'll run out of luck.

#bbucommunity #bbu community days #whump #pet whump #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #jameson bb #prostitution tw #tw derogatory language #demeaning language #police harassment #writing #implied dubcon

[rapeculturerealities]

Trans Twitch Streamer Keffals Swatted, Terrorized By Police

Clara “Keffals” Sorrenti, a trans streamer and political commentator, was arrested by Canadian police last week after a swatting incident. Keffals was left rattled, saying in a YouTube video recounting the event that the police terrorized her and locked her out of her accounts because she’s “still a suspect in an investigation” of a crime she didn’t commit.

Keffals’ Twitch streams and YouTube videos on politics and LGBTQ+ issues specifically have garnered her a hefty following. She’s weighed in on transphobic comments by journalist Helen Joyce and ratioed the hell outta noted TERF J.K. Rowling. Keffals has also used her platform for activism, such as calling awareness to a California bill that would protect trans youth fleeing to the state. If there is news relating to queerness, chances are Keffals has said something about it. And being as outspoken as she is, Keffals is no stranger to courting controversy. For example, she was temporarily banned from Twitch for “openly talking” about the abuse she gets earlier this year and regularly targets right-wing commentators for their bad takes, like Tim Pool.

That’s all to say that Keffals probably expects harassment in some form, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the morning of Friday, August 5. As she told it in a YouTube video uploaded days later, Keffals was “woken up by London Police Services pointing an assault rifle in [her] face in [her] home.” Apparently, someone impersonating her emailed every city counselor in London, Ontario, stating she killed her mom, was in possession of an illegal firearm, and planned to “go to city hall and shoot every cisgender person” there. There were just two glaring problems: The email was riddled with grammatical errors and had Keffals’ deadname. You’d think Keffals wouldn’t deadname herself, but that didn’t matter to the cops. So, when Keffals was arrested by Ontario police, they booked her in the station under her deadname, which was legally changed more than a decade ago. The cops even misgendered Keffals when talking to her mom, referring to her as Ms. Sorrenti’s “son,” despite Keffals running for political office twice in Canada under her real, legal name: Clara Sorrenti.

#keffals #Transphobia #Twitch #Twitter #Social media #Sorrenti #Swatting #Youtube #LGBTQIA #Trans #misgendering cw

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

First, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Since some kind of contact with them is the only choice unless you don’t go to the memorial (which doesn’t sound like something you want to/can do), my advice would be for you or your mom or aunt to state the conditions you desire for this event to them directly, ahead of time. Tell them not to speak to or acknowledge you, etc.

If that isn’t possible, or even if it does happen, I’d recommend the stonewalling technique for you in regards to being around them. Give as little attention to them as you can. Don’t engage, give them one word answers, etc. Don’t worry about ‘how it looks,’ keeping yourself safe is more important than keeping up appearances.

It’s a memorial, so if they’re any kind of decent at all, that’s what they’ll be focused on, not harassing you. And once the service is over, once your obligations are finished, don’t further subject yourself to their presence. Get the hell outta there!

I can only assume it’s going to be an incredibly taxing situation for you, so please please please give yourself time after the fact to decompress. You may do better than you thought you would, and that deserves celebration, or you may be hurting a lot and that hurt deserves your time and compassion. 💜

Thank you. Yeah, my plan is mostly just ignoring with some overly polite responses if they speak to me directly.

The idea of having to sit at a table with her for 2+ hours is making me physically nauseous/anxious, so this should be interesting.

I would like to be hopeful that, given the setting, she'll behave... but she caused a scene and stopped my mother's wedding when something happened she didn't like, and she's thrown screaming fits at me before that had the neighbors calling the cops. I don't have high hopes that the circumstances will offer any kind of protection if she decides to lash out.

[the-chickenshit-oddity]

B99 Obsession Chart Season 1 :) PART ONE

SPOILERS FOR ALL OF SEASON ONE OF BROOKLYN 99

so, i'm rewatching B99, and a lot of it makes me want more stories, more details, more more more. so, here are my notes, and what they make me think of.

for efficiency's sake, this will also be where i "store" my B99 s1 prompts. might be some spoilers for later seasons if the inspiration came from watching this one. just look for links in there to see the prompts. also, some prompts are grouped as an "arc" and i don't know what the hell i'm supposed to do with those so they're a bit randomly placed.

1:1

bear nanny cam has same backstory as pimento (long undercover, forgotten who i am)

diaz's type : anyone but boyle > diaz dated a shit boyle 1

diaz "old people gunk" > diaz working at old ppl home 2

holt sneaking up on jake count : ii

holt's sneaky dad lessons : team uniform (jake)

>> all the lessons prompts 8

1981 disco strangler

jake's lessons to dad : robot noises

1:2

holt's sneaky dad lessons : clean your room ; job > career ; don't be late (jake jake and jake again)

holt 12 years to get command

holt & jake vs authority count : i

1:3

holt's sneaky dad lessons : get out of a slump (jake)

gina = "at risk kid"

holt & jake selfie 9

1:4

amy skipped 4th 11

holt pokerfaced > harassed over evth 3

jake appendix inflamed 10

squad sexcapades : boyle futon couch mode

jake's lessons to dad : pa pa pa papa

holt says "baroque" > holt & amy bonding over art history 4

1:5

oldest collar : 81 JP 96 AS 78 RD 2x50 S/ 68 CB > rosa's old ppl home UC work

holt's sneaky dad lessons : team work (jake); gun certified (terry)

jake good baby holding technique > babysitter jake 5

diaz wants to shag vulture & knows where he lives

holt has seen top gun

vulture obsessed by jake's "big white ass"

1:6

"was it a maple" > scully catches a maple shagger.

>> oldest collar : AS = flasher, RD = old, S = tree hot twins, JP = drug 6

rosa : catholic school - dance thingy > kicked outta dance school for beating ballerinas 7

>> holt teaches jake chess

amy hates halloween

rosa picks locks

1:7

jake at splash mountain

terry plays guitar

jake knows amy's only friend kylie

amy caught guy subway bag human ears

terry's mean bro in law

>> jake statue dance floor 12

argos bakery 1912 >> charles reincarn 13

1:8

"is this a dream am i asleep" >> amy dreams of perfect employee jake 14

jimmy brogan reporter >> kevin book about cops 15

>>jimmy brogan school bully ? 16

Amy’s grandpa cop >> baby amy tagging along / meeting holt? 17

1:9

Jake’s sal’s pizza

Diaz’s captain job offer

Gina’s IT job itws. >> gina ruining teachers? Tie up to gina’s at risk childhood // gina ruining nannies? 18

Nypd v fdny fight >> injured jp & cb 19

Baby jake plays baseball

“you’ve been booned” >> prank war 20

1:10

Holt’s mom is a judge >> jake stalks judges ref. Girls stalk kevin prompt 21

Holt’s sneaky dad lessons : team as family (jake AGAIN geez mate)

Amy’s shit at cooking >> amy did boy stuff, jake did girl stuff? 22

Amy’s shit at thanksgiving

1:11

Safe house ep

>> missing Hanukkah ep + jake hosting? 23

>> holt reluctantly plays jake’s pretend game 24

Holt misjudges jake

“don’t say son” count since beginning of show : dozennnns

Sleepover vibes

Jake can read holt

1982 holt says punk

Jakes asks holt for a train trip 25

Boyle gets shot in the butt

1:12

Holt offers maths lessons (jake)

Jake & diaz academy buddy

Holt is a puppy’s grandpa

>>jake becomes buddies with mrs judy 26

#stupid #hi i'm weird nice to meet you #the-c-odd-prompt #codd-sequel #codd-sequel-organised

[homiro]

I absolutely am hated lmao like why were people even following this damn account? Now I have 442 followers I know it was 480+ just a couple of days ago because I was trying to create new sideblogs on mobile so I saw it lmao maybe I'm just being nEgAtiVe and this this is why people don't like me as usual but fuck it you know I'm tired as hell of this bullshit life of all the bad luck of just idk being too autistic or something for anyone to want hang out with me for real lol oh you don't put yourself out there lmaooo yeah for what? To be shut down and get mad and just cut off the relationship? I guess I'm meant to be alone and that self-isolation really is the way about it not matter what the lazlos and other such American (from ANY of the countries in the AmericaS PLURAL) say. Honestly fuck ableist fuckers and fuck covert transphobes literally go to hell.

By the way I'm not self diagnosed I had to go through a fucking insane battery of questions lol great thing. I gained nothing from it except an #actuallyautistic. And I'm tired of having to mask so that the motherfuckers who pretend to care about mentally ill people and act like they're ND but ick when they see someone with an actual condition that isn't uwu palatable uwu smol bean who's shyyy fuck outta here.

Rant over lol they want me to be the villain, I'll be their fucking villain I just won't willingly interact with these cunts anymore. I'll be the cunt who copped out when he was lied about and misgendered and the little uwu smol beans villanised me. And yes, no i HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN. AND I HAVEN'T LET GO. Because abusers and harassers want you to forget and let go to be exonerated of their own shittu behaviour. I apologised for my meltdowns and was met with nothing but condescending remarks and holier than thou attitudes and treated like shit by literally all of these clout chasing twats. I'm not upset I left that was a blessing in disguise but they robbed me of the only thing I had which was writing. I barely wrote this hear and when I did I had to push myself. And not because I had some block it was literally because I didn't want more harassment and to be told I suck by the fans of dubcon shit. And fuck every single MOTHERFUCKER who says it isn't. I'm an SA SURVIVOR I KNOW WHAT IS AND WHAT ISN'T SA. But you know, it's hot apparently lol so it's okay /s rant over unfollow away I guess lol some cunt on here said I was negative and shit as well before unfollowing instead of just doing it. Like just say you don't understand cptsd and fucking go.

I'm done.

#long post #rant #personal vent #fuck all this #I'm burning bridges #maybe that's my cue to actually cop out for good #I'm so tired of having to mask to be accepted for being different and for having permanent trauma

[kira-fluff]

please please PLEASE may we have a part two to the 'only one bed' piece you posted 🥺🥺 your writing is INCREDIBLE and I loved it so much 🥺🥺🥺 if u decide to do a part two then thank u so much in advance,, hope u have a good day 🥺

a/n: you asked for it (some others did too but this anon was so adorable so I’m replying to this one) so I’m gon’ give it to u <3 also, THANK YOU I am being 1000% honest that your comments seriously brought me to tears I was SO happy you all loved it. when I say pt.2, I kind of assume that it’s with the same characters (since no one specified others) so that’s what I’m gonna do! 

Context provided, don’t worry babes 

WARNINGS: sexual harassment, intoxication, extremely heavily suggestive (it gets pretty spicy)

Also contains spoilers from part 1 but like why would you even read part 2 if you haven’t read part 1? Get outta here and read it!! (Why is this even a warning? I don’t know don’t question my methods) 

- 

“There’s only one bed” [PT.2] PT.1

Saeyoung 

You awoke to a sleeping Saeyoung, his toned arms enveloping your small body in a hug. Shamelessly, you laid still for a few moments longer.

When you’d noticed him stirring awake, you quickly shut your eyes once more, trying to conceal your growing smile 

Saeyoung blinked a few times before registering at last where he was 

He needed a little more time to register why you are in his arms 

Pretending to be asleep again, you nuzzled further into his chest, letting out a soft groan 

Saeyoung’s mind flew to DANGER MODE 

He felt kinda guilty holding you in his arms because let’s face it there’s no way he isn’t enjoying this 

He was so stunned that, for once, he was at a loss for words (shocking, I know) 

Blinking out of his stupor, he murmured, “Y/N?” 

His morning voice was... nice. 

You pretended to “wake up”, fake yawning before saying, “Yes, Saeyoung?”, subtly batting your eyes a little 

(It wasn’t subtle) 

But since Saeyoung is an actual fucking moron, he can’t tell the difference 

Play it cool, Seven. She can’t know that you know she was doing this all night and you didn’t do anything. 

“Wow”, Saeyoung choked out a laugh, “I didn’t know you liked me this much.” 

You look down, in between the two of you before slowly making eye contact with him again, smirking in disbelief, “I could say the same to you.” 

A slow blush crept up his face at the innuendo 

But he was NOT about to lose 

Saeyoung Choi is NOT a loser 

“Oh, yeah? Well, I wasn’t the one screaming my name last night.” 

You gasped, “Screaming?! I didn’t scream -- I would’ve remembered a dream like tha-- Oh!” You quickly covered your mouth, already feeling regret seeping into every bone of your body.

Saeyoung openly chuckled, looking at you with a sort of darkness in his eyes 

“You’re more dangerous than this whole mission.”

You were still out of sorts, failing to come up with a comeback besides a quiet, “I wasn’t screaming.”

A shit eating grin replaced the cool smirk on Saeyoung’s face 

“I win.” 

“Eat a dick, Seven.” 

“Sorry, I think I’m more attracted to the one who was moaning out, ‘Oooh, Saeyoung~~~’“ 

You threw a pillow straight in his face, muttering a “shut up”, blushing profusely 

Ever the competitive fucker, Saeyoung proclaims an all out pillow fight

It is WAR 

Throwing pillow after pillow at each other in between giggles and taunts and jeers 

“Take no prisoners!” you shouted, feeling unbeatable

Until Saeyoung grabbed your ass, pulling you down with him, earning a yelp from you 

“What the fuck, Sev’?! You cheater!!” 

“I don’t know, my hand’s a lot more comfortable here!” 

You scoffed, “Oh, YOU! YOU are gonna GET IT!” 

Saeyoung threw back his head in laughter but abruptly stopped when you grabbed his face with both your hands, and forcefully kissed him 

He let out a “MMPH!”, eyes wide 

Before, of course, kissing you back with equal force 

Gasping for air at last, you spoke in between breaths, “I......win..”

“Actually, darling, I think I just did.”

Noticing your loss for words, he smirked before asking, “So.... what’s my prize?” 

You didn’t have to be asked twice, “I think I have something in mind...”

His eyes met your own before slowly scanning your body, then snapping back to your eyes once more 

You bit your lip 

“I know you’ll lose at least one thing tonight.” 

“Bold of you to assume--” 

“Just shut up and kiss me again.” 

Wish granted ;) 

Yoosung 

Yoosung glanced away, taking a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, yeah I did. I really like you.” You couldn’t hold back the big ol’ smile that took over your face as you proudly declared, “Me too!!” Right when Yoosung was going to go in for a kiss, he saw his auntie suddenly right next to the both of you

“Oh my GOD when did you get here?!”

She smirked, “My question first, dearie, what did you two like?” Neither of you answered, your cheeks growing red

“You know, the first time your uncle did it with me I felt the same way. Like, what a man! Must run in the fam--” 

“OKAY! THANK YOU FOR THAT AUNTIE BUT BREAKFAST IS CALLING MY NAME MM SMELLS GOOD SEE YOU LATER.” 

Your blush didn’t leave you as you smeared strawberry cream cheese on your toasted bagel. This trip was going to be very VERY difficult. Thank God there was alcohol. And Yoosung. And probably dogs. And Yoosung. Yeah. Gotta love relatives.

Following this stunning confession, you felt dumb because, well, you still didn’t know where you really stood with Yoosung 

So when night came, you were ready to go to a party 

Putting on your earrings and making sure your clothes were laid properly in place, you stepped out of the resort room to a waiting Yoosung 

“H-hey, thanks for waiting for me,” You nervously tucked a stray hair behind your ear. 

Yoosung avoided eye contact, opting for a stiff nod 

You gazed deeper into the side of his head, feeling hurt. 

But... you decided not to say anything. 

Walking together to the reserved room the resort had made in preparation for Yoosung’s uncle was awkward, not a single word spoken between the two of you 

When you arrived, Yoosung’s eccentric uncle immediately shouted, “’Sung ‘Sung! Get over ‘ere! We’re gonna have a part-ay!!” 

You suddenly understood why Chaewon was the way he was 

and why Yoosung’s parents forced him to go on this trip instead of themselves 

Since you didn’t know his name, you opted for your nickname -- Uncle Alcohol 

Cuz he had a LOT of it 

In number, and in the amount he shoved down his throat at any given time

Seriously, how is this guy already drunk?!

You watched as Uncle Alcohol shoved a sloppy arm around Yoosung, not so quietly shouting something in his ear above the blaring music 

You were too far away to hear, thank goodness, but you took note of the way Yoosung immediately blushed and shook his head fervently, his hands held in front of his chest 

Before you could take in the atmosphere further, you felt a shiver down your back

Immediately turning around you saw the oh-so-famous Chaewon 

“Heeeyyyyyyy babbeeheehe...... Wannnaaa..... sliiidee in my room tonighhht?” Laughing in a way what made you cringe and your ears numb, you replied, “No thanks, bud. You should probably get some water.” 

“Nooo I want youuuu” Grabbing your boob in his hand, he laughed again, saying, “Nice” 

Oh my god.. where the fuck is Yoosung?? 

You quickly slapped away his hand, shouting, “Stay the hell away from me asshole! Try anything else again, and I won’t give a shit that you’re drunk or Yoosung’s family, I will call the cops on you!” 

He acted as if he didn’t hear you, but must’ve gotten the message because he sauntered over to another group of girls 

Aren’t those his cousins? What the fuck is WRONG with that guy?! 

The loud smack and curses answered the question. You didn’t attempt to help when you saw them proceed to beat the absolute shit out of him, blood and all. 

What you needed was a drink. Something really, really strong. 

You walked over to the resort bar tender

Something about your face must’ve given it all away because he began with a “Rough night, huh?” 

“Do not even fucking ask me about it. God, please, I’m sorry that was rude. I just need something strong... just give me three fingers of rye.” You waved your hand nonchalantly, sitting at a bar stool. 

“Are you sure, lady? You don’t look the type to handle that kinda liquor..”

“That’s kind of the point.”

He sighed, “Look... I’m not supposed to condone you getting completely shit-faced.. but you look like you need it tonight. I’ll make something a little easier down the throat, okay?” 

You nodded, exasperated. 

You didn’t know what it was, but it did the trick. It’s fruity taste easily passed down your throat, leaving you feeling lighter and more at peace. 

“’nother one.” 

He obliged, pouring another glass for you. 

Four drinks in and your world was already unbelievably wobbly. 

You were seeing double, looking at the bartender’s second form 

You laughed, it all seemed to funny 

Standing up, you stumbled over to the dance floor, grabbing one of Uncle A’s craft beers. 

Dancing was fun for a few minutes, grateful no one had bothered you. 

But you sat down, tears suddenly welling in your eyes 

You were alone. 

Yoosung. 

Your mood brightened just by remembering his name

Giggling, you called out, “Yoosuuungg~~~” repeatedly around the room 

One of the cousins heard your call, laughing because everything was funny, before grabbing Yoosung’s arm and shouting what they’d just heard 

Yoosung quickly glanced over at you, brows furrowed. They softened a little upon seeing your drunken state 

He’d had a beer or two, but the good feeling got old quickly and he sobered up by the time he’d noticed his cousins acting like complete fools 

Upon seeing him, your smile grew to a big, childish grin 

“Hiiii Yoosuuunggg...” 

“Jeez, Y/n, how much did you drink?” 

You giggled, playfully sticking out your tongue, “not sure~ a few.. probably..?” you laughed again, winking at him 

“Hey, let’s get you some water, yeah? On second thought.. we gotta get outta here. I’ll carry you to our room.” 

Your eyes shamelessly stared at his lips, not listening to a word he was saying 

“Yoosunngg~~ I want you to fuck meeee” 

Yoosung held the bridge of his nose in between his fingers, “L-let’s just go.” 

Putting your arm over his shoulder, he carried most of your weight. 

“Yoosuuung I want to have your babiess~~” 

Yoosung blushed and looked down, continuing to walk, “You’re way too drunk.” 

“Yoosunggieee I want to know what it feels like to have your d--” 

He quickly shushed you, looking around for other observers

He basically ran to your resort room from there

Taking a long sigh as he finally had got you in the room, he wiped some sweat off his face 

Just when he’d gotten up to get a water bottle for you, he heard retching noises

Before he could stop you, you upchucked all over yourself and some of the cheap resort carpeting 

Groaning in physical and emotional pain, Yoosung muttered a quiet, “why me” 

Before putting his arms under your arm pits and dragging you to the bathroom 

He spent a good 10 minutes just trying to get the stupid shower to turn on because of course at any other place than your own house it’s never easy 

Then, after getting the temperature just right, he forced you to down at least half of the water bottle 

“Are you able to take off your clothes by yourself, Y/n?” 

You giggled back, shaking your head 

“Liar.” 

“Help me take ‘em off pweaseee” 

“No!” 

You started tearing up again, your lip wobbling 

“You know I can’t do that sweetie, you’re drunk.”

“No ‘m not.” 

“Yeah, you are.” 

You looked up at him before sighing and lifting up your shirt, fully exposing half of your naked body to him 

He screamed like a little girl, running and slamming the door behind him 

You pouted, “That’s no fun.” 

After getting out of your clothes, you devised another poorly thought through plan

“Yoosunngggieee I need help washing myselffff” 

“Um.. okay, lemme go see if I can get a hold of someone...”

“I want it to be you. I want it to be you who sees me like this. I want it to be you. Only you.” 

“S-stop..” He said through the door. 

“Please?” 

Sighing, Yoosung knew there was no one who wasn’t drunk or available to help. 

He did what any good guy would do. He proceeded to blind fold himself, opting for reaching his hands out to guess and where things were. 

You laughed, “’Sunggiee you know you’re still gunna be touchin’ me” 

“I’m not going to.”

“You said you’d help me!” 

“Yeah, getting shampoo or something like that!” 

“How ya gunna do that with somethin’ over your eyes?” 

“I didn’t think it through that far.” 

You sighed, conceding and attempting to wash yourself (which ended pretty badly) but, keeping his word, he managed to assist you the best he could without touching you. 

He pitied the hangover you’d have... and the regret. 

 At last carrying you to bed after getting you another drink of water, he began cleaning the putrid stain you’d left on the carpet. 

It was about 5AM when he’d finished, finally crawling into bed. 

He thought about the way it felt last night compared to now

and he blamed himself. 

He was the one that made you get so drunk you essentially passed out 

Looking at you again, he sighed. 

Tugging you close into his arms, he whispered a soft, “I’m sorry.” 

Your subconscious must’ve heard him because you said in your sleep, “’s ok.” 

Jumin 

And suddenly your faces weren’t so far apart. And you couldn’t help but slowly close your eyes. Jumin was confused. He can be a bit of a pea brain, so he of course said, “I’m sure you’re very tired.” He shut off the light, reaching over you. You held back the big frown you’d gotten when you realized he’d rejected you. Unbeknownst to you that it took everything in him, from the moment he’d saw you in the jet cabin, not to scoop you up in his arms and make out with you the whole way there.

You were awoken by birds chirping outside the massive estate window

You made eye contact with an already staring, wide-eyed Jumin 

Upon realizing you’d woken up, he averted his gaze saying, “Breakfast -- soon.” 

You missed the crimson color of his face, instead getting up and stretching (like you didn’t learn your lesson last time)

Then, you made your way over to the fresh coffee that had been delivered to your room minutes before

Adding a shit load of cream and a dash of sugar, you turned to see Jumin staring at you. Again. 

You breathed out a laugh, “What are you looking at?” 

Jumin’s brows knit together for a split second before he again looked away, his soft blush never fading, “It’s hard not to.” 

“Look at wha--” Your eyes grew wide in realization, looking down at the lingerie hardly covering your skin, Jumin’s shirt no where to be seen.  

You screamed, making a poor attempt to cover yourself shouting, “Oh my god I’m so sorry I forgot!!” 

Again, Jumin found his gaze resting on your body, stifling a groan. 

He at last spoke, his deep voice reverberating throughout the room, “You... you’re making this all.. so much more ....difficult.” 

You then grew defensive, “Made what difficult? Ogling at me without staying anything?!” 

His eyes glowered with something you couldn’t quite place. “That’s not what I meant” 

He walked slowly toward you, causing you to take steps backward 

He’d backed you up against the wall, letting out a deep breath through his nose

With glittering eyes, he grabbed your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look up at him instead of the ground 

“You’re doing on purpose, aren’t you?” 

You gulped in anticipation, “D-doing what?” 

Jumin raked his eyes down your body then looked back up at you with a sarcastic expression that said, “really?” 

“N-no! I didn’t have a choice!!” 

“Your clothes would’ve been dry hours ago.. if it really bothered you--”

“Well I was really tired from the jet ride and putting up with you!” 

Jumin looked surprised for a moment before grinning sardonically, “Putting up with me? Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to control myself when you’re constantly grabbing me, touching me, everything!” 

“I didn’t do all that on purpose!” Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but you weren’t about to admit that to him when he was being such a dick.

He laughed dryly, “Yeah, okay. All I’m saying is that I don’t find it very funny.” 

“You think that you’re just some big joke to me?!” 

“What other explanation is there?” 

You were practically hysterical in your laughter saying, “You’re unbelievable.” 

“Oh yeah?” he challenged. 

“Yeah,” you glared back at him, your faces inches apart. 

Before Jumin could realize what he was doing, he pulled your hips flush against his own, crashing his lips harshly on yours. 

Letting out moans of both desperation and anger, your eyebrows furrowed as you deepened the kiss, gasping when Jumin slid his tongue so far into your mouth you swore you felt it going down your throat. 

After what felt like hours, you parted for oxygen, both breathing heavily, before going in for another long, simmering kiss

You felt Jumin smirk against your mouth causing you to lightly smack his chest, hating that he knew he’d gotten a rise out of you. 

He grabbed your wrist against his chest, slowly guiding it to his first button of his night shirt. 

You made quick work of removing all the fastenings, nodding and obeying him when he commanded, “Jump”

Your legs tied round his waist, you continued to make out, pulling at the waistband of his pants. 

Jumin moaned into your mouth before parting to say, “You will be the death of me, little spitfire.” 

Let’s just say the whole fiance thing might not be a lie anymore. 

Zen 

Zen wanted to say something smooth like “I’ve always wanted to do that.” But instead he said “I’ve always wanted to do you.” He mentally smacked his head, blaming the lack of oxygen for his stupidity. But you smirked up at him coyly, replying, “Then why don’t you?” Um, yeah, rip your hotel neighbor he will literally hate both of you so much.

You awoke you Zen rubbing his thumb on your arm, basking in the morning light 

He groggily said, “’mornin’ babe.” 

“I’m ‘babe’ now?”

“What else am I supposed to call my beautiful girlfriend?” 

You leaned up and kissed him softly, smiling. 

“I love you, Zen. So much.” 

“I love you, too, Y/n. If you didn’t already get that from when we...” 

You laughed shyly, “yeah..” 

“I know I skipped a few steps, but I have never been happier and more sure of anything in my life.” 

You looked up at him, peacefully grinning. 

“Hey, let’s get married.” 

Zen choked on his spit, “R-right now?!” 

You giggled, “Not right now, but soon. I dunno, we’ve been friends for, like, forever. Now that we know we like each other it seems like the next step.” 

Zen looked at you, searching your face to determine whether you were serious or not. 

Detecting that you weren’t joking he laughed airily saying, “Sure. Whatever you want princess.” 

He kissed the top of your head, whispering, “You’re so beautiful, ya know that?” 

Sighing comfortably, you nodded, falling back into sleep. 

“H-hey! Wake up!!” Zen shouted, giving up and just cuddling up to you instead, stroking your hair gently. 

The concert wasn’t until late that night -- he had time to spare. 

....Even if he didn’t, he’d make time for you.  - 3 months later

In classic Zen and Y/n style, you’d eloped shortly after the tour ended. 

“Hey, Y/n? Have you seen my grey t-shirt?” 

You looked up from your laptop, “Mhm, it’s in the dryer.” 

He sighed, “Thanks babe”, before making his way down to the mudroom where your laundry was kept 

He sifted through the hot laundry in the dryer, not seeing his shirt anywhere, when he hard a crash. 

“Y/N?!” 

He rushed out to the living room, glancing from the smashed coffee mug on the ground, to you. 

“Y/N?! Are you okay?!!!” 

You clutched your stomach in anguish, beads of sweat forming at your brow, “Y-yeah.. my stomach hurts so bad ‘s all.”

Zen was having NONE of that

He rushed you to the Emergency Room, holding your hand the entire time. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Princess, I promise.” You nodded, before losing consciousness - 

you awoke to a depressing hospital room, meeting Zen’s worried eyes. 

“How long was I out..?” 

“For a few minutes.” 

You sighed in relief, feeling a lot better than you were when you were rushed to the ER. 

All of a sudden, a doctor entered the room looking stern. 

“I wanted to discuss the diagnosis with the two of you when you were both physically present.” 

You blanched, looking at Zen with fear etched in your eyes. 

Zen held your hand tighter, before saying, “What’s the problem?” 

The doctor looked in between the two of you before letting out a little laugh, “There’s nothing wrong, actually.” 

You both looked confused, Zen proudly saying, “Then why’d you look all doom and gloom when you came in here?!” 

The doctor roared with laughter saying, “Eh, I get a kick out of the faces you guys make. Ah, now to the diagnosis.” 

“There’s still a diagnosis?!” 

You shushed Zen, nodding at the doctor. 

He took a breath before saying, “Miss Y/N Hyeon, you’re pregnant.” 

Both your eyes grew wide, mouths slacked

“O-oh, oh my gosh!!” 

Zen enveloped you in a big hug, congratulating you (and also hiding his tears) 

This man could not hold back the proud grin he sported for MONTHS

-

I simp for this prompt so if someone asked, it’s not like I could say no to writing it for more characters.......right? lol Also, I came to a realization that I made that a fanfic rather than a headcanon.. so oh well, right? 

#707 #zen x reader #jumin han x reader #yoosung fluff #yoosung fanfic #yoosung mystic messenger #mm jumin #jumin x reader #jumin han #han jumin #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #seven zero seven #yoosung x reader #seven x reader #saeyoung x reader #mystic messenger #707 mystic messenger #myseme #mystic messenger 707 #mystic messenger zen #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messenger fanfic

[mammonshuman92]

- Watched - Pt.3

(Mammon x GN!MC)

**TW: cussing, stalking, kidnapping, religion, 

Note: C/N (coworker name)

-

“Man, I’m starvin’. What’s takin’ so long anyway?” He grumbled, remembering the whole ‘first name basis’ thing with the delivery driver. 

He was laid on his back across your bed scrolling through social media, impatiently waiting for you to return. His stomach started to growl.

“Maybe I should go check? But, MC said to stay here so no one could see me.” He said to himself, a slight pout on his lips.

He heard a small shuffling noise come from the living room, it sounded like a paper bag crinkling.

Ok, ya got the food, now don’t be tryin’ to chit chat MC, I know how ya are. I’m dyin’ in here!

The bedroom was a straight shot down the hall from the door, making it impossible to sneak a quick peek without fully exposing himself.

He could hear you talking back and forth with...Alex. He huffed to himself remembering your chumminess with the take out guy. Something just seemed weird to him about the whole thing. 

Somethin’ is fishy about him always havin’ MC’s route or whatever. Does nobody else deliver for that place? I bet he’s got a crush on MC or somethin’. 

“I’ll kick his ass.” He said out loud, his own thoughts making him sour.

He listened again, trying to hear what was being said. He couldn’t hear any actual words, but he could hear Alex’s voice. Barely, though.

Wait a minute.. Is he whisperin’? What’s he gotta say to MC that requires whisperin’?! I gotta get outta here.

Mammon was getting himself worked up, assuming this delivery guy was confessing his love to you. He’d nearly convinced himself to march out there and confront the creep. To hell with staying hidden!

Before he could blow his cover, he heard something hit the front door followed by more shuffling movement. He calmed down a bit, thinking the noises he heard were of you getting the food inside and trying to kick the door shut.

He impatiently waited for you to call out, telling him the coast was clear and that he could finally come eat. But, you didn’t.

After a couple minutes passed with no new noise, he grew slightly anxious.

He stood up and started pacing beside the bed, feeling antsy.

C’mon, MC. What’re ya doin’? I’m witherin’ away! Before long I’m gonna shrink up and turn into a Little D or somethin’..

Suddenly, he heard voices again. Well, just the delivery guy’s voice, still a hushed tone. He groaned to himself.

“If he don’t hurry up and go away, I’m gonna eat him instead.” He grumbled quietly to himself.

Something didn’t feel right though. Why was Alex’s voice the only one he heard? It had been at least five minutes since he heard you say something. It’s not like he just missed what you said because you were too quiet for him to hear, or you just chose not to contribute to the guy’s conversation.

You always talk, to basically anyone you come in contact with, never really knowing a stranger. He’s pretty sure you haven’t gone five minutes without talking since he met you. That’s why it seemed so weird to him. 

That alone wasn’t really enough to expose himself though, was it? 

To say you’ve been through a lot lately is an understatement. You’re sleep deprived and your nerves are shot. With everything that’s been going on, it would be more weird if you didn’t act a little different. He didn’t blame you for not being your usual self.

He still couldn’t shake this feeling though.

A sudden, loud noise outside got his attention.

Was that a car door?

He moved quickly, putting his back against the wall, scooting over to the doorway.

“MC? Is he gone?” He whispered.

No answer.

Screw it.

Very slowly, he peeked his head around the corner, careful not to be seen.

“MC?” He whispered again, louder this time. 

Still nothing.

Somethin’ is definitely wrong..

He fully emerged in the doorway, eyes darting around, taking in his surroundings. As he quickly made his way up the hall, he noticed the door standing wide open. He could see that an older model car was parked in front of the house and you were no where in sight.

Hand still on the door knob, he turned around to call out into the house, “MC, where ya at? Ya know ya left the door-”

Before he could finish, the car outside suddenly accelerated, kicking up dirt and rocks as they sped off.

What the..?

“Guess he didn’t like his tip..?” He whispered to himself.

He shut the door and turned around slowly, only taking a couple steps before he came to a stop. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling he had.

“Oi, MC! D-don’t ya know you’re supposed to answer when THE Great Mammon calls for ya?” He waited, but the house was still. All he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears.

He walked further into the house, quickly looking around the kitchen before heading back down the hall.

Why ain’t they answerin’.. c-could it..? Nah..

“This ain’t funny ya know..” He called through the house, hoping that you’d somehow slipped past him. 

Again, he was met with bone chilling silence.

Slowly, he started piecing all the little weird things that didn’t make sense together like a puzzle. The silent house and wide open door, abandoned food, the car speeding away.. 

The same delivery guy somehow always having this route...

His heart sank.

No, no, no, no!

He ran from room to room in a panic, desperately calling out to you, begging you to answer him.

This ain’t happenin’.. They gotta be hidin’ or something. Yeah, that’s it!

“MC! Where are ya? Talk to me, please!” He screamed, voice breaking around the hard lump forming in his throat, tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

No, it can’t be.. It can’t be..

With trembling hands, he dug his phone from his pocket, quickly dialing your number.

“C’mon, pick up. Please, please pick up.” He pleaded as he paced the floor.

His stomach dropped when he heard it ringing within the house, quickly following the sound until he found it on the coffee table where you had left it earlier. He stood there unmoving, staring at his picture and contact name with hearts on the screen, tears streaking down his face.

The weight of it all came crashing down like a tsunami, forcing him to his knees. With his face in his hands, he sobbed uncontrollably.

I shoulda listened to my gut when I thought somethin’ was wrong! Why did I wait so long to look for ‘em?! He took MC, he took MC! Dammit!

How did he let this happen? He was right here, right here, and he didn’t sense the danger. He couldn't protect you again, letting you fall right into the hands of the psycho creep who had been relentlessly harassing you, who was planning to do who knows what.

He had to do something. Anything. 

Get the hell up! Ya gotta go find MC NOW! There’s no tellin’ what this creep is gonna try.

He stood up and wiped his face, trying to compose himself as he switched into demon form.

“I can still catch ‘em!” He made a beeline for the door, stopping abruptly as he reached the thresh hold.

“Wait, it’s the middle of the day and this ain’t the Devildom. A demon flyin’ around on a man hunt would be real bad.” He thought aloud.

People would most likely panic and if history proves anything, nothing good ever comes from humans when they panic.

He had to try and think rationally, as hard as it was. He wanted to rush in and save you as quick as he could, but going in blind without a decent plan could get you hurt...or possibly worse.

He switched out of demon form and moved back into the living room, trying to come up with an idea.

Your phone was here so he couldn’t have you tracked by GPS and he didn’t remember much about the car except that it was older. He didn’t even know what the guy looked like since he’d had to hide. All he knew about him was his first name and that he worked at a restaurant. 

“The take out place would for sure have everything about him on file!” He quickly punched in the name of the place into his phone’s search engine, then suddenly paused.

“Wait a minute..I can’t just waltz in there and ask for someone’s personal info. They’d call the cops or somethin’. Damn!”

He was beginning to feel hysterical. He didn’t have much to go on and every idea he came up with was crap. A few ‘ding’ sounds from the coffee table tore him from his thoughts. It was your phone.

Someone named C/N had sent you a couple texts about work and judging by the text log, you talked to them often.

“Man, I hope this C/N knows somethin’ cause I’ve got nothin’ else to go on..” 

Luckily, he remembered the name of the coffee shop, having heard you talk about work often. A quick internet search and he had the directions. He was out the door like a shot.

With his newfound breadcrumb, he was one step closer to finding you.

-

A bell chimed above the door when he entered the shop, alerting the worker behind the counter of his presence.

“Hi, how can I help you?” They greeted him as he walked up to the counter.

“Hey, is there a C/N here by any chance?”

“Oh, uh, yeah just a sec.” They went through a doorway behind the counter, returning moments later with another person in tow.

“Hello..? I’m sorry, do I know you?” They asked, approaching Mammon, visibly confused.

“No, but you know MC, right?” He asked, uninterested in beating around the bush.

“I’m not sure I can answer that.” They said cautiously, visibly tense.

They do know somethin’.

“Here, look.” He said, pulling up the gallery on his phone, showing them multiple pictures of you and MC together.

“Oh, so you’re the boyfriend. MC has told me about you. Uh, anyway, is there something I can help you with? I need to get back to work..”

“Yeah, has MC ever mentioned anythin’ about a guy named Alex before?” He asked.

Please, please, please

“Alex..Alex..” They repeated, tapping a finger on their chin as they thought it over. “They did, actually. We went to the movies about two months ago, and ran into a guy they knew. It was their usual deliver guy I think? Said his name was Alex. He gave me the creeps.” They explained.

“Why is that?”

Yes! We’re gettin’ somewhere.

“He just seemed..I don’t know, off? And when I met him, I actually remembered seeing him a few days earlier on my way to work. There was another A.T.A. protest and I saw him in the group demonstrators. He denied being there when I brought it up, saying it had to be his doppelganger or something, but I know it was him. When we ran into him at the movies he said he had just got off work, and he was wearing the exact same shirt and hat as the day of the protest.” They informed him.

“Wait, A.T.A.? What’s that?” He asked curiously.

“Anti-Treaty Association. They’re exactly what the name suggests. Everyone involved in the exchange program is public knowledge. Names, pictures, updates on how the program was going, etc. All easily found on any search engine. If he is part of the A.T.A., why would he be friendly with MC? There’s no way he didn’t know who they were.” They said.

This Alex guy is definitely the stalker. I bet if I dig into this A.T.A. I can find him..

“Alright. Thanks for your help.” He said as he turned to leave, C/N took a few steps after him.

“Hey, uh, is MC okay? I know they haven’t been themselves lately, but uh, you coming here and asking all these questions kinda scares me..” They admitted, fear for their friend written on their face.

“MC is uh, goin’ through some stuff. I’m gonna put an end to it though.” His voice was rough, angry. His face however, was full of desperation and sadness.

Mammon thanked C/N again for their information and left the coffee shop on a new mission. He uncovered another piece of the puzzle, new information that could lead him to you.

No one knew exactly what this guy was capable of, but he had the most important piece of Mammon's existence with him. There wasn’t anything he wasn’t willing to do, in any realm, to bring you back safely. He would breach the Celestial Gates without thinking twice if it would bring you back to him.

He was going to show them exactly why he's the second strongest of the seven rulers of the underworld.

I’m comin’ MC. I will find ya, I promise.

-

“Get out.”

The scorching heat inside the trunk made you nauseous, and severely thirsty. You felt weak and disoriented, unable to move much. You weren’t sure how long you had been stuck in there before you finally felt the car come to a stop. The lid opened, blazing sunshine poured inside the dark space, making your eyes water and squint reflexively.

“I said, get out!” He screamed.

He wrapped his hand around your wrist hard and yanked you from the trunk, letting you drop to the ground. You were much to weak to try and brace yourself so you fell pretty hard, getting small scrapes and dirt on your elbows and forearms.

You tried to open your eyes to try and get an idea of where he had taken you, but before they could adjust to the blinding sunlight, he tied something around your eyes.

“Can’t have you trying to escape.” He said to himself, as he finished tying up your hands. The restraints were very tight, already starting to hurt your wrists.

“I’m not going to.” You said weakly, your words making him laugh.

“Well, at least your a smart demon slut. Somewhat, anyway.”

Honestly, you weren’t planning to escape. If the opportunity presented itself, you would make a run for it, but you weren’t actively looking for an escape route. However, you had no intention of giving this creep what he wanted, or giving up without one hell of a fight.

Pulling you by the restraint around your wrists, he began to drag you across the ground. He let go of you a minute or so later. He didn’t drag you very far, ending up in some kind of building judging by the change in temperature and the rough feeling of concrete beneath you. It felt a little cooler in here as if you were out of direct sunlight, but the air was still fairly hot and sticky.

You did your best to pay attention to the things around you. The sounds, smells, what little you could feel. Outside you could hear cows in the distance and some kind of humming noise. It was definitely hot, but more like that humid feeling before it storms. You could also smell it too, the incoming rain. That warm earthy smell.

You could hear Alex nearby messing with something metal, there was also the sound of running water somewhere close.

I can’t believe Alex was actually the stalker this entire time... Explains how pictures taken of me from outside my house though.. I wonder what he plans to do..

You promptly chased away those thoughts in order to keep yourself calm, replacing them with thoughts of him, the time you’d spent together along with all the memories that came with it.

How soft and fluffy his hair felt when ran your fingers through it. The way he smelled; not the Devilish No.5, although you did love it, it’s smell closely related to the famous human world version, but his smell. Crisp and clean like fresh laundry or new clothes, slightly smoky like leather because of his favorite jacket and small undertones of warm cinnamon and vanilla.

The always groaned about your selection for movie night but was the first one to get really into it. Having a concert while cooking when you had kitchen duty together, getting in trouble for talking and laughing in class and later being scolded by Lucifer for it. How he always used to complain how bad humans smell, only to find out he started buying your brand of body wash for himself and would also try to casually smell his hoodie after you’d worn it.

The thought of never seeing him again, never experiencing anymore memories like these or the chance to make new ones, kept haunting you. A hard lump was forming in your throat, tears beginning to prick your eyes.

“Aw, what’s the matter darlin’? The abomination you chose as a lover isn’t rushing in to save you like Prince Charming? Imagine that.” He spat. 

You ignored his sarcastic comments, wanting answers of you own, “Why are you doing this?” You could hear him walking toward you, his footsteps getting louder as he approached. The sound stopped abruptly, then he crouched down next to your head.

“I told you, you need to be cleansed.” His tone was very matter-of-fact.

He grabbed your wrist restraint again and drug you another ten feet or so. Easily picking you up and hoisting you into the air until the rope around your wrists caught on something. He let go, your full weight coming down on your restraint. You were suspended in the air, feet barely skimming the floor. 

He checked your ropes to make sure it was still secure with the added weight and gravity, then he removed your blindfold. The sudden change causing you to blink several times.

Your previous assumptions had been right, you appeared to be in a warehouse that had been abandoned for quite some time. Most of the windows were broken, big vines and other foliage creeping into the building. The rusted remnants of machinery scattered around the large, open room. You looked above you to see that you were hanging from a large hook that was suspended by thick chain from a metal beam up above. Far to your left you could see what looked like a large pool or even one of those big basins you usually use to water cattle, with a hose draped over the side. There’s the source of the running water you heard.  

Wait...a stock tank with water, ’cleansed’...is he going to..baptize me?

“Cleansed? That’s been mentioned quite a bit in the dozens of letters I’ve been getting. Well, you would know, huh? Since you’re the one behind it all. What I don’t understand is why?” 

It came off as more sarcastic than you intended, but you didn’t really care. You had been terrified for weeks about the stalker. What would they do when they finally got to you? You haven’t truly felt alone in over a month, as if someone was always hiding in the shadows watching, waiting. Your anxiety has been through the roof and you’re in a nearly constant state of paranoia and fear. 

But, now that he was in front of you, you didn’t feel scared. You wanted answers.

“Because they don’t belong with our kind. Uniting our realms is blasphemy and will throw the human world into chaos.”

‘Don’t belong with our kind’..? Whoa, what the hell..

“Blasphemy? But, the Celestial Realm is on board with it. The angels in the exchange progr-” He cut you off before you could finish, his sudden booming voice echoed through the spacious warehouse, startling you.

He stood with his back to you, facing a long metal table that looked as if it used to be a conveyor or some other piece that once belonged to one of the old machines inside the long forgotten building.

“The exchange program was a joke! Those devils just needed a good cover to get their claws on our realm so they could take it over! Using their dirty tricks and magic to bring corruption and pollute us with sin.” He stared you down like a mad man while he yelled.

This was so bizarre, he sounded insane. Like, one of those people that wore tin foil hats. This version of Alex, the real one, was scary. You would’ve never guessed in a million years that this guy was the same one that you talked about the weather and current events with a few times a week.

“None of that is even remotely true! They just want to bring peace among the realms, to prove that they are not what all the harmful, hateful rhetoric claims they are. So we can all just co-exist! That was the entire point of the exchange program! To learn about the Devildom; it’s people and culture.” You fought back.

His face twisted up in disgust, visibly becoming more and more agitated every time you spoke. He stalked closer, stopping maybe six feet in front of you, staring at you intently.

“That kind of thinking is exactly why you need to be cleansed. You’re a human, or has being a demon whore and becoming the embodiment of sin made you forget that? You are nothing but a weak, powerless human to them. A pawn in their bigger plan, collateral damage if things went wrong.” 

You never cared what assumptions people made or the rumors they started regarding your stay in the Devildom. However, when the very demons you loved and cared about became the subject of people’s whispering, you were willing to fight with no intentions of backing down.

You, out of everyone, who had to live in the House of Lamentation for a year, escaped death from a couple of the brothers, helped them mend familial bonds, and held pacts with all of them, should know better than anyone, exactly who they are.

“You don’t know anything about them!” You yelled lurching forward as you filled with anger, lightly swinging back and forth where you were suspended, the thick chains above you clanking, “The things they’ve been through, they things they’ve seen. The sacrifices they had to make..” You heart ached for them. What happened during the Great Celestial War, their fall.. They’ve been through a great deal and they, along with the rest of the Devildom, are undeserving of such prejudiced hatred. 

“Being demons doesn’t automatically mean they are bad people, just like being human doesn’t make you good.” You stared him down, lacing venom in your words. He squinted his eyes at you, unhappy with your implications. “That fact was thoroughly proven during my time there. Some of kindest people I have ever met, as well as the people I love and cherish the most, are demons.”

You would forever stand behind the program, your now second home, and all the friends and loved ones you made along the way. No matter what this psycho could come up with, you would not be swayed. You knew them for who they are, all Alex knew was hatred.

He scoffed at your words, walking toward you as he shook his head in disgust, eyes boring into yours. He stopped just inches in front of your face. You held onto your resolve, staring back at him intently, not letting him see that you were completely terrified. It’s what he wanted; to feel superior and pass judgement on those he deemed unworthy.

You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction though; to feed his ego, his delusions. You refused to bow to fear, instead giving it all you had to make sure that if this was how it would end for you, you would fight against his prejudice and hatred until your final moments.

“We will start with the normal cleansing.” He backed away from you, confirming your suspicions as he gestured to the stock tank. “Although I think your soul might be too far gone for it to be completely effective.” He smiled wickedly as he turned around, going back to the table he’d been at earlier and picked up the same knife he’d held to you when he kidnapped you. The only other weapons you could see on the table were a baton and a taser. There was also a thick book you could only assume was a bible and a large jar of water. The most concerning however, was the gas can, thick work gloves, and what looked a lot like a body bag.

“This may call for a more extensive purification.” 

PART FOUR COMING SOON!

#obey me! #obey me fanfic #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #trigger warning #potentially triggering #obey me shall we date #obey me angst

[starshineandbooks]

Even the dangerous kid can find love from a fairytale

Warnings: cursing, harassment, implied/referenced childabuse. Let me know if I missed anything

Pairing: Demus, mentioned Logince

After Virgil left the group in junior year, half way through senior year Janus and Rmeus were so mad they got into a fight and aren’t talking currently, three days until they go to college. The only common piece they have is probably Bia and Roman.

But Janus opens the door to his apartment with a raised eyebrow, “What-”

“Get your shoes on Remus is in trouble and I need you to come help me. Now!” Bia snaps, “Ro’s in my truck, driving, come on.”

“What?”

��Shoes, now damn you!” Bia snaps, hands flitting about and jittery, bouncing slightly. Ready to run and or fight, Janus notes.

Janus pulls his shoes on, gad he already has sock, waiting patiently for Bia to start explaining, he calls up the stairs to his grandmother, “I’LL BE BACK REMUS’ IN TROUBLE APPARENTLY IT’S MY JOB TO BAIL HIM OUT!”

“OKAY! BE SAFE LOVE YOU! TAKE THAT LITTLE SPITFIRE GIRL!” His grandmother calls back.

    Janus shuts the door, rushing into the truck still running at the end of his driveway, “So, did anyone want to explain to me what’s happening? Or?”

    Bia gives a low growl, “So- fun fact, Remus has always liked dangerous things.”

    “I know that.” Janus sighs, “What are we walking into?”

    “That shady bar downtown known for assaults and deaths.”

    “What?” Janus growls.

    “Remus went to the Salty Currant, which is also, unfortunately, mafia territory.” Roman sighs, “Bia should stay out of it if she can, because-”

    “Don’t you tell me what to do Crowne.” Bia snaps, “Remus is in danger and you want me to sit pretty?!”

    “We want you to not tempt your sperm donor,” Janus counters, “And if you can’t listen I will call Angie.”

    Bia grumbles, face souring.

    As they break the speed limit they make it to the bar in fifteen minutes, and the boys turn to Bia.

    “We’ll be back, if we’re not back in twenty you call the cops.” Roman says simply.

    “I still think-”

    “Bianca,” Janus snaps, “Please just this once listen to someone else?!”

    “You’re lucky Remus is in danger or I’d smack some sense into ya, go save our dumbass loser.” Bia grumbles.

    Janus and Roman nod, disappearing into the crowd and bar quickly, agreeing to split up and cover more ground.

    Roman shoves past giggling teens and surly drinks, eyes scanning for his brother. He pushes forward through the crowd, beginning to regret splitting from Janus, the loud music and pulsing lights and mass of untrustable strangers.

    Janus scowls, shoving through a rougher crowd, one filled with wandering hands on him and jeering looks. But Janus will find Remus, the elder of the Crowne siblings is in so much trouble just as soon as he’s found.

    Remus isn’t so much found, instead he charged forwards, snagging Janus’ hand away from some smirking jerk or other and kissing him firmly on the mouth, one arm lacing tightly about his waist.

    Janus stiffens, but dosen’t fight, recognizing Remus soft hum in greeting, but he does glare when the crazed teen pulls away.

    “Hey there Baby, thought you’d gotten lost,” Remus smirks,  and his eyes are softer, sober thankfully.

    “Oh really?” Janus growls, dragging Remus towards where he saw a flash of red bomber jacket that resembles Roman.

    “Jan-”

    “Don’t.” Janus grits, still gripping Remus’ hand, too tight but Remus doesn't say anything, falling silent at the glower Janus gives him.

    The two manage to find Roman and Janus calls, “Roman!”

    Roman turns, “Jan?”

    “We need to go, I got Remus, and we have three minuetes at most before something bad happens.” Janus says, herding the set of brothers out.

They make it out the door just in time for Roman to grab a storming Bia’s hand and drag her back to the truck.

    “Uh- Why are you guys even here?” Remus asks.

    “Bia.” Janus says simply.

    “Bia,” Roman agrees, “But I’ve been so worried!”

    “Bia,” Remus sighs, “Why did you drag my brother and Janus here?”

    “I’m in less trouble if I’m not alone when I go to kick your ass.” Bia says simply, “And what were you doing here then?!”

    “You don’t want details on that one.” Remus shrugs, “But I was having fun.”

    “Having fun?” Janus asks his voice sharp as a tack, “Or trying to destroy yourself?”

    “It’s all the same thing.” Remus shrugs, “But, thanks for carin’!”

    Bia scoffs, opening the driver’s side door, “You are the most pig brained- Ugh!”

    Janus shoves Remus into the back seat, clambering in beside Remus, still gripping his hand, “I don’t even know what to say to you, but I- why would you go there? You know it’s dangerous, you could have died!”

    Roman takes passenger seat, “I’m glad you’re safe bro, but, c’mon, what’s worth that?”

    “Oh I’ll tell ya,” Bia grumbles, backing out of her parking space.

    Remus sighs, “Would you stop being a cranky thing? I’ll call Angie on you.”

    “You keep yer yap outta my business thank ya,” Bia growls, chewing her lip, “You know Roman and I are in trouble right?”

    “What? Why?”

    “Logan’s going to kick our asses seven ways from sunday,” She sighs, “He hates this part of town more than I do.”

    Remus rolls his eyes, then, “Jan?”

    “What?!”

    “You wanna let go of my hand? Or- you don’t have to, but it hurts a little, could you loosen your grip?”

    Janus lets go, putting his hands in his lap, “Why in the hell would you put yourself there? Last I heard you preferred to not risk your life.”

    “Last you heard we were talking.” Remus snaps, “Last yu heard you hadn’t broken my heart!”

    “I- what?”

    “I’m in love with you you fucking moron, And you were so heartbroken by Virgil leaveing that you let it fester and you broke my heart and left!”

    Roman blinks, “Wait- you guys weren’t dating?”

    “No,” Bia shakes their head, “they’re both morons.”

    “Uh, yeah, it sucked that he left, but you were just using me as a rebound!” Janus snaps, “You loved him!”

    “No, you loved him.” Remus pouts.

    “You’re all idiots.” Bia sighs, “Why does everyone think that the person they love loves someone else?”

    “What?” Janus blinks.

    “I’m not talking to any of you until you fix this.” Bia says simply, “Or Logan forgives you for going into the den of the devil.”

    Roman winces, “Oh I’m so dead.”

    “No, you can kiss him and short circuit his brain, “Bia huffs.

    “Hold up,” Remus says, finally catching sight of the splatter of colors, “We have a problem.”

    “What?!” Janus glares.

    “I- Found my soulmate apparently?”

    Janus sours, “Congratulations.”

    “Let me see your hand,” Remus pleads, “It’s gotta be you! Why else would you care enough to come get me?!”

    Yes because the universe just cares for us that much.” Janus rolls his eyes.

    “Ask Remus what colors.” Bia says petulantly.

    Remus answers unprompted, “Green, and yellow, black, there’s some white too.”

    Bia raises an eyebrow, then,”Janus, look at your hand please, or wherever your mark is.”

    “But-”

    “Trust me?”

    Janus has always been doubtful, but Bia is usually right oddly enough with spiritual or magic may be concerned. Also, even he can’t ignore the hope blooming in his chest lke an intrusive flower of a thorny variety.

    So, Janus does, letting his left palm move so he can inspect it, the colors match what Remus had described.

    “Oh my god.” Janus whispers.

    Remus grins, “Oh thank god!”

    “This doesn't make me less angry with you for endangering yourself.” JAnus states, though with less venom than originally.

    “Does this mean I can have a kiss before you yell at me more?’ Remus sounds a little hopeful.”

    “You can have a kiss if you promise me you won’t needlessly endanger yourself again ever.” JAnus says simply.

    Bia sveers sharply left, throwing Remus into Janus, making them kiss anyways, because she’s a stubborn witch who loves her friends.

    Remus pulls back, “I promise on my soulmate.”

    Janus snorts, suppressing a laugh.

    “Oh?”

    “He’s very dear to me, lovely snake.”

    “Out, get out,” Bia says, stopping at Remus’ house, “And dear god tell your mother you’re okay. Think I freaked her out, sorry.”

    Remus groans, but exits the truck with Janus.

    Roman and Bia pull awaye.

    Janus tilts his head, “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

    “Always.” Remus grins, “Now you should go so mom can yell at me.”

    “Oh no, we’ll both yell at you, let’s go inside.” Janus grins, leading Remus inf for a chewing out followed by worried hovering from Remus’ mother and soulmate.

    Remus’ chest warms over with squirming insects in it, Janus is his soulmate now. The world is finally right.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #ssb writes #sweethearts soulmates and snarky remarks #soulmate au #janus sanders #sympathetic! remus #sympathetic dark sides #remus sanders #Bia Whitaman

[the-awkward-outlaw]

I was in Saint Denis and was doing the rob 5 town people challenge, when some woman started sassing me. Arthur grabbed her so her back was against his chest and put the gun to her head, saying "I wasnt gonna rob you but now I am." Could you write Arthur/reader where a few months later she ends up falling in with the camp and recognises his voice?

Woo boy, this one was fun and honestly could be the start of a multi-chapter fic! Great prompt! Also, Arthur is hilarious when he comes up with stuff like this. 

Masterlist

Read on AO3

You watch as the ferry floats away from the pier. Your hand lowers as it would be impossible for your cousin to see you at this point. Part of you still wishes you could have gotten a ticket for this ferry, but at the same time, you’re glad you couldn’t. For the last few days, you’ve gotten a bad feeling about the boat. You doubted it was nothing, that you were just being silly, so you said nothing to your cousin. 

As you turn and look down the street at the town of Blackwater, you begin lightly humming to yourself. It couldn’t be a more beautiful day. You’ll miss your cousin, the two of you are good friends, but she lives in Saint Denis with her parents. You live here alone, but you don’t want to leave. Blackwater is all you’ve ever known. It’s where your parents are buried and where you grew up. 

You pass the barber’s shop and you get a sudden sense of dread, like there’s a heavy anticipation settling over the town. You can’t put your finger on as to why. Nothing seems wrong or out of place, plenty of people are milling about the town. It seems like a regular day. 

As you walk down the street, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling, you suddenly hear shouts and screams. A police officer on his horse runs past you, heading for the lake. He yells out “Ferry’s being robbed!” 

You watch in terror as people begin fleeing, cops swarming the streets and heading for the lake. Gun shots ring out. You begin backing up quickly and slam into someone hard. 

“Watch it, buddy,” you say, glaring at the man. Of course it wasn’t his fault, more yours than his really, but you’ve never been known for apologizing. Without warning, the man suddenly grabs you, pins your back to his chest, and he whips out his gun, pointing it to your temple. In the chaos surrounding you, no one stops to rescue you. 

“Now you listen here, miss,” he growls in your ear, his voice mixing with your heartbeats. “I wasn’t gonna rob ya, I was here to rob someone else. But now I have ya, hand over whatever ya got.” 

“Please, mister, I don’t have anything,” you plead, your hands scratching at his arm wrapped around your shoulders, but seem to have no effect. 

“Bullshit. You damn city folk always got somethin’. Now hand it over!” 

“Okay, okay!” You reach into your pocket and pull out the fifty dollars you had. You’d intended to use the money to pay down your house for this month. You stuff the bills into his hand.

“There, that weren’t so hard. Now get outta here, and don’t mention me!” He shoves you hard and runs towards the lake, following the footsteps of the officers. You don’t get a good look at his face. 

The incident of the double robbery terrifies you so much you stay out of Blackwater for the next few weeks. It’s alright anyways as the town is now swarmed by bounty hunters, officers and even Pinkertons, looking for the criminals. They wouldn’t be so bad, until the Governor declared that the town was going into complete lockdown. This meant that all businesses would be shut down until further notice and all residents must stay inside and even open their homes up to be searched in case anyone was housing fugitives. 

This turns out to be devastating for you. Your home sits on the outlying border of Blackwater where you run a very small dairy farm. You’ve always managed to make a decent living as everyone buys milk, but with this lockdown, no one comes. The government has even sent in supplies to the residents, such as milk and eggs, in order to keep everyone alive for the meantime. 

Blackwater, however, is not a cheap place to live anymore. Not ever since it stopped being a simple trading post, and it’s getting even more expensive now that the train station is being built. Even though businesses have stopped, bills haven’t. You still have to pay for the loan on your home as it wasn’t paid off when your parents died, and with no incoming money, your savings quickly dry up. 

Things go on this way for weeks, and your situation goes from bad to worse. The criminals have not been caught yet and there’s been no word on their whereabouts either, so the Pinkertons and bounty hunters haven’t left yet. Your situation is growing dire. Just last week, someone from the bank stopped by to remind you to pay this month’s amount towards your property. You tried to explain that with the lockdown, you no longer have the money. He claimed it wasn’t the bank’s problem and they expected their payment by the end of the month otherwise you risk losing the property. 

You would start selling milk again. Hell, these past few weeks all your supplies have basically been thrown away (the cows haven’t stopped milking after all). However, with the government giving out free milk and supplies, no one will pay for yours. You even try to sell the fact that the milk’s as fresh as it can be, but then the Pinkertons catch wind of your business and threaten to imprison you for it as all businesses are still shut down. They don’t care either when you explain your predicament. 

The month ends and on the first day, officials from the bank come and seize your property. It doesn’t matter how much you scream and fight, claiming it’s the city government’s fault as you could have paid if you’d been allowed to run your business. They don’t care and by the end of the day, you’re left sobbing in the dirt with the few possessions you could carry. How will you be able to survive? 

It’s clear that you can’t stay in Blackwater. There’s nothing left for you here except bad memories. It’s impossible to say how long this situation will last either. Instead of living on the streets, you decide to move to Valentine. Perhaps you can get a job as a waitress. You still have enough money that, even though you couldn’t pay for your house, maybe you can buy a cheaper property up there. Maybe even some cows and you can start over again. Besides, Valentine is a livestock town. You know livestock. 

However, when you get to Valentine, things don’t go as you planned. Sure, you got a job as a waitress in the saloon, but it doesn’t pay very much and there are no properties for sale near the town. The few that are for sale are far away and too much for you to afford. You ask the manager of the saloon (who’s also the bartender) if you can live in one of the rooms upstairs until your situation is sorted out.

“Unless you’re working in one of those rooms, I can’t afford to let you live there.” 

You know what he means by working in those rooms and you won’t stoop that low. You still have standards, after all. In the end, you have no choice but to sleep outside and work as much as possible during the days. You think things have hit an all time low. 

One afternoon, you’re waiting tables. A particularly rowdy group of ranch hands comes in and gets a table. They immediately flag you down and you sigh. These types of men are the worst, but if you play your cards right, they can pay some of the highest tips. Especially if you’re quick on refilling their drinks. 

Usually ranch hands don’t stay too long, but this group seems to want to stay. It’s been well over an hour and all of them have had their fair share of drinks, making them even louder and rowdier. As you approach them with more shots of whiskey, one man puts an arm around your waist and pulls you close. 

“Hey, how much for a night, missy?” he asks. 

“I don’t do that,” you say flatly. 

“Oh come on. Bet you’d do it for someone like me,” he says. 

“Why would I?” you glare down at him. 

“Because I’m the sheriff’s son, miss. I can get you anythin’ you want.” 

“Become the governor’s son and maybe I’ll think about it. And maybe think about becoming more than some ranch hand,” you snap and try pulling away. He just clenches your hips harder. 

“You hear how this girl talks to fellers like us?” he laughs to his friends. They guffaw and point at you. “Seriously, girl, I’ve made all the other women in this saloon swoon before.” 

“Well then go back to swooning them.” 

“Nah, been there, done that. I want you.” 

“Let go of me! I ain’t that kinda girl! Now take your drinks and get lost. All of you!” 

“Hey, you can’t talk to us like that!” one man says. “We’re patrons!” 

“I can, and I’m telling you all to get out!” You march over to the bar and tell the bartender your problem. He recognizes the man who was hitting on you and says that the sheriff’s cleaning his slate for some gambling problems, so he has to let his son stay. However, he doesn’t want you getting harassed, so he has one of the other girls cover for you. 

When your shift is done, you head outside to have a smoke and dreading the fact that it looks like it might rain tonight. You’re still sleeping practically on the streets, so it’ll be a bad night. As you stand and smoke, lost in thought, you don’t hear the footsteps behind you. 

Someone grabs you hard from behind, pinning you to their body. The sheriff’s son’s voice hisses in your ear, wreaking of alcohol. 

“Hey there, missy. Just the two of us now. How about we skip talk of pay and just get down to business, hmm?” 

His hand suddenly gropes you and you kick him in the shin. He yelps in pain and you push away from him. “I told you I ain’t that kind of girl! Now get lost before I tell your daddy what you do to women.” 

His face scrunches in rage and he lunges at you, knocking you onto your back. You try fighting him but he’s much stronger and he’s got the upper hand. His hands pin your arms down as he tries kissing you, so you headbutt him. One hand releases your arm to press on his bleeding nose and you take the opportunity, grabbing his cattleman revolver, pointing it at his gut, and firing. 

The bang echoes against the building, and you quickly throw him off of you. He writhes for a few seconds, a gurgling coming out of his mouth. You watch in shock as he draws his last breath. You certainly hadn’t meant to kill him. 

The door to the saloon slams open and the bartender steps out. He looks at the body, you standing over it with the gun still in your hand. 

“I…. I…” you stammer, not knowing what to say. 

“My God, Y/N! You killed him!”

“He attacked me!” you say. 

“Sheriff’s gonna lose his mind about this! He’s not one to mess around with the law, but when he hears about his boy… oh, Y/N, this is bad!” 

“But he attacked me! I didn’t mean to kill him!” 

The bartender comes over and smacks the pistol out of your hand. “You best get out of here, Y/N. I weren’t the only one who heard that gunshot. Sheriff or one of his deputies will be here any second and if they find you like this…. You’ll be hung by the end of the week. Go on, get outta here. I’ll come up with something.” 

Without hesitating, you run off. He’s right of course, now that you’ve killed a man you can’t stay here. You run as fast as you can, heading south, but it doesn’t take long for you to lose your breath. By the time you hunker down, a painful stitch in your side, you realize how bad things have gotten. As the reality of it all sets in, you begin to sob. 

You killed a man. Sure, he’d been attacking you and if he’d lived, he’d surely have done something truly terrible, but the fact remains. A man is dead because of you. Not only that, but the likelihood of the sheriff discovering the truth is a guaranteed problem. His son’s friends surely must have seen him coming after you. They’d know you’re his most likely killer, and they won’t have a problem telling the sheriff. You’re in big trouble. 

The weight of this all forces you down to your knees and you sob harder. What can you possibly do? Should you head on to another town? But which one? So far, you haven’t had any luck being able to afford a new home. You just can’t seem to dig yourself out of this hole. 

You hear a voice. “Ma’am? Ma’am, you okay?” 

You look up and see an elderly man. His clothes are rough, dirty and torn in places. He’s got a bulbous nose and a thick gray beard and a wide belly. His eyes, though dark, have a kind look to them. 

“I… I killed him.” The words slip out of your mouth. 

“Killed who?” he asks. 

“The sheriff’s son. I… I killed him. It was an accident.” 

“Oh so you’re the one they’re looking for.” Fear stabs you in the stomach. This quick and you already have a bounty on you. He straightens up and looks down the road at Valentine. “You say it was an accident?” 

You nod, getting to your feet and preparing to run. He’s an old man, he won’t be able to catch you easily. “Yeah. Bastard was trying to rape me, so I shot him.” 

The man blinks. “Sounds like you’re in a bad way. Heard he was the sheriff’s son. Say, I don’t do this for everyone, but why don’t you come with me? I got a place you can stay until you get things figured out.” 

“You aren’t planning on raping me too, are you? No offense, but I’m not in the mood to trust many men right now.” 

“Don’t be thick, come on now. I live with a big group. Sure, there’s quite a few men, but I promise ain’t one of ‘em gonna touch ya. Especially when they hear you’ve already killed the man who tried to get ya.” 

Instead of feeling suspicious, you can’t help but trust this man. He leads you down the trail towards a large copse of trees. As he walks into them, he turns to you. 

“Think you’ll fit right in with us, miss. Everyone I live with has got a record behind ‘em. Hell, some of ‘em have killed more people than I’m even capable of counting, but don’t tell ‘em I said that.” 

“So, you run with a gang of outlaws?” you say, feeling nervous again. 

“That’s how you might choose to see it, but they’re alright really. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” 

The old man leads you into a clearing. There you see several wagons and a few tents. Despite the hour, there’s still plenty of people milling about. A man sits at a round table with two women, a guitar in his hand and he’s singing in Spanish. Around one of the fire’s further away is a man in a plaid shirt talking to some other men. Not too far, near a tent, a woman sits next to a small boy, who’s playing in the dirt with a stick. 

“Uncle!” a loud voice calls out. It seems to be directed to the man guiding you in. You look to see the owner of the voice. A tall, well groomed man with dark hair marches over to you, followed by a thin, gangling man with gray hair and a thoughtful face. “Uncle, what the hell are you doing? I said no more passengers!” 

“Hey, hey, relax Dutch! Just a girl, got in a spot of trouble in town, figured she needed some help.” 

“We can’t afford to feed any more mouths, you old goat!” 

“What kind of trouble?” says the gray haired man. The two men look at you curiously. You realize they’re waiting for you to say something. 

“I…. I killed the sheriff’s son. He was attacking me, so I shot him. It was an accident.” 

Another man saunters over. He’s a broad man with curious blue eyes, a leather hat and a blue striped shirt. He smokes a cigarette, the other hand on his gun belt. 

“What’s goin’ on?” he asks. His voice sounds horribly familiar. You try to pin down where you recognize it from. 

“Uncle brought this girl in, says she killed the sheriff’s son,” the gray haired man says. 

“That so?” the blue eyed man says. “Well, we got enough trouble, Uncle. Think you better take her back there. Let the sheriff deal with her.” 

It suddenly clicks where you know him from. “You! You’re the man who robbed me in Blackwater!” 

The man blinks and lowers his brow, clearly confused. “What?” 

“You robbed me in Blackwater! The day that ferry got robbed! You’re the reason I lost my house!” 

“I didn’t make you lose your house, miss.” 

“Bullshit! You pointed a gun at my head and made me hand over everything I had. That money was gonna pay for my house for the next month! I’d still be living there if it weren’t for you!” 

Anger courses through you and you want to hit this man. The dark haired man, Dutch you think Uncle called him, looks at the man. 

“Is this true, Arthur?” 

“Well, sure I robbed a gal down in Blackwater. She was sassin’ me, so I robbed her.”

“I lost everything. Everything because of you!” 

“All you had was fifty bucks, hardly anything.” 

“That was my month’s payment on my house! Then the goddamn town went into lockdown and I couldn’t make money, so the bank took my house back! Way I see it, you owe me, buddy!” 

You’re shaking and quite a few people in the gang have gathered, drawn to your yelling. 

“Wait, explain the situation in Blackwater,” the gray haired man asks. You tell him. Dutch and the man trade almost remorseful looks. You stand there, waiting for them to tell you to get lost. Instead, Dutch turns to the man he addressed as Arthur. 

“You heard her, son. We owe her. Miss Grimshaw? Please show her a place to stay. What’s your name, girl?” 

You’re shocked by this turn of events, but you tell him. A middle aged woman with a stern face comes over. She gestures for you to come over to her and then she puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“Come along, dear. We can get you settled. Sounds like you’ve had quite the ordeal.” 

She doesn’t ask you for further details nor does she explain anything about her gang. She just shows you to a spot under a canvas where three other girls sleep. They pull out a bedroll and spread it, allowing you to lie down. When you do, you realize how exhausted you are. Despite all the things that have happened, you fall quickly to sleep.

*********************************************

The next few days are a confusing blur. Most of the members are curious, especially when they hear that you lived in Blackwater and had an unfortunate run in with Arthur, who you’re still convinced is the one who sent you on this downward spiral. 

Grimshaw explains that this gang cannot carry people who don’t work (which is odd because you haven’t seen Uncle do a thing besides drink and play his banjo), so she sets you to work at a wagon run by a man named Pearson, the camp cook. As you set down to chopping vegetables, Arthur walks over, looking sheepish. 

“Um, ma’am, I uh I wanted to apologize. For robbin’ you. Guess… guess I been robbin’ folk so long it just comes natural.” 

“I heard Dutch sayin’ you folks only rob from the rich in order to help the poor. I was never a rich woman, Mr. Morgan.” 

He lowers his head. “I know. I figured since you was in Blackwater you had money to spare. I’m sorry. I know that if I hadn’t taken your money, you’d probably still have a home. You wouldn’t be in this mess. But I got you this. I know it won’t get you your house back, but maybe it can help somehow.” 

He hands you a wad of cash. After counting it, you find it’s well over sixty dollars. You look up at him. “You’re right, it won’t get me my life back, Arthur. But I appreciate the gesture.” 

He swallows a bit. “Well, I just wanted to let you know, you’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you want. I’m gonna vouch for ya, I at least owe you that. And if there’s anything else you need, let me know.” 

You thank him and he walks away. You feel a great weight lift from your shoulders. Your crimes from the other night won’t be erased, but at least you’re not having to be alone to deal with it. You have the possibility of making friends here with this gang out outlaws. After all, you are one yourself it seems. You suddenly wonder where your life might lead now that you’ve started down this path. 

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #awkward asks

[krumbine]

Videorama: Revenge of the Nooooo!

The year is 2005.

George W. Bush is just starting his second term in the White House.

The hottest game in cell phone technology is the Motorola Razr V3 and the PalmOne Treo 650.

The iPhone is still a few years away.

The Rise of Skywalker isn’t even a twinkle in Disney’s eye––an eye that’s currently preoccupied with an overly optimistic Narnia Franchise Wet Dream.

In fact, Disney wouldn’t even buy Star Wars for another seven years.

It’s summer in 2005 and millions of marketing dollars can still pull the wool over the eyes of a naive movie-going public, dictating box office success regardless of audience consensus or even general quality of filmmaking.

All hail the grand illusion of capitalism.

It’s a warm evening in the summer of 2005 and video rental stores are still a thing.

One particular, independently-run store––freestanding, double glass doors on the left side of the brick facade, small parking lot––was just turning its sign on as dusk settled.

Videorama was open for business.

*

Tobey blinked incredulously at the three teenagers standing on the other side of the counter. His brain hurt as he attempted to summon the endurance needed to fathom the sheer stupidity of their question.

To buy himself some time, Tobey blinked again.

“… well?” asked the one with the long greasy hair. “Do you have it?”

There was no way these kids were serious.

Tobey shook his head in disbelief. “You’re not serious.”

The one with a bad case of acne threw his hands up in exasperation. “Dude, for fuck’s sake!”

Tobey looked over at the other man behind the video store counter, feet up, sketch pad in lap. “I think these guys are serious.”

The third teenager was pale and wore a lot of heavy black eyeliner. He spoke in a flat monotone: “Catwoman. Do you have it or not?”

Tobey broke into a lopsided grin. “Oh, I get it. This is like a prank, right? Where’s the hidden camera?” Tobey propped his elbows on the counter and leaned forward. “Am I gonna be on the internet?!”

Long Hair was reaching his limit. “C’mon, man, we just wanna rent the movie.”

Tobey’s grin dropped. “No joke?”

“Dude.”

“Catwoman?”

They were practically pleading. “Do you have it or not?”

Tobey stood back, somber. This was worse than he thought. “Holy fucking shit.” He turned again to the other guy behind the counter. “Kurt, these guys are actually serious.”

Kurt didn’t look up from his sketch pad. “Hm.”

Zits backhanded Long Hair’s chest. “This is ridiculous, man.  Let’s get outta here.”

Almost through this, Tobe.

Eyeliner started for the exit. “Fuck these asswipes.”

Fuck me.

“Alright, you fucking hormone-addled, gene-pool rejects. Listen.” Tobey leaned forward. “I can appreciate the fact that the three of you otherwise fine young gentlemen are undoubtedly blinded by your adolescent throes of puberty––to saying nothing of the ungodly amount of jizz sprayed in your eyes from the nonstop circle jerk that is your formative years––so it stands to reason that the mere notion of Halle Berry sporting a whip and a leather catsuit is enough to make you pop your collective nut––which, again, I do understand. Halle Berry is a fine specimen of the female gender and I myself have spent many a lonely night pondering Ms. Berry’s lithe and supple … skills.”

Tobey lost himself for a moment and the three teenagers stared at him in confusion. Tobey nodded absently and then returned to the conversation.

“Fellas,” he implored. “All that being said, you cannot tell me that simple, unabashed horniness is just cause for what will amount to the severe rapage of your individual minds––a tragic and unavoidable fate that you will all most assuredly fall victim to should you proceed to rent the motion picture that is Catwoman.”

To buy themselves a moment to process Tobey’s rant, the three teenagers blinked at him.

“… yes?” Zits said, lacking any sense of surety of himself.

Tobey sighed. Definitely worse than he thought. With a sad shake of his head: “Look, let me make a suggestion. Go with Monster’s Ball instead. It’s got our girl in it, bare titties and all. Lots of sex plus it’s a flick that won’t rot your brain. It’s a goddamned win-win for everybody. Especially you.”

Tobey pointed at Eyeliner before changing his mind. “Well, maybe not everybody.”

Eyeliner’s face was as a neutral as his voice. “Isn’t she fucking Billy Bob Thornton in that one?”

“So?”

Zits scowled. “Dude, that is so fucking nasty! He’s all old and wrinkly and shit.”

Tobey wanted to ram an ice pick in his own ear. “What the actual fuck, my man? We've already established that you're watching the flick for Halle Berry's tits, not Billy Bob's ball sack! What the fuck do you care what he looks like?!”

“We don’t!” Long Hair cried. “We just care about Catwoman!”

Tobey threw his hands in the air. There was no reasoning with these kids. “Okay, fine. I see how it is. Get out.”

Incredulous offense from Zits. “What?!”

Ineffable deadpan from Eyeliner. “You’re throwing us out?”

“No. Right now I’m asking you to leave in a gentle yet firm manner, as to assert a polite yet authoritative dominance over this conversation,” Tobey said. “In about twenty seconds I’ll be throwing you out.”

“We just want to rent a movie!” Zits said through gritted teeth and mounting frustration.

“Incorrect,” Tobey responded, raising an index finger. “You want to rent shit. There is a difference, although I can see that the lack of immediate release has caused the cum to bubble up and disorient your brain cells, inhibiting logical cognition. Regardless, I don’t even carry Catwoman since I have a very strict policy on stocking crappy movies.”

Long Hair tilted his head, waiting. “What’s your policy on stocking crappy movies?”

Eyeliner with the deadpan punchline: “He doesn’t.”

“––I don’t,” Tobey said at the same time. He shot Eyeliner an exasperated glare. “C’mon, dude!”

Eyeliner shrugged a shoulder.

Tobey leaned forward. “Now why don’t you three numb-nuts find yourselves a tittie mag, have a circle jerk, and just be done with it already, okay?”

Eyeliner scoffed indifferently. “This is bullshit. Let’s bounce, boys.”

Tobey nodded. “That’s right. But be sure to use plenty of lube. Too much bouncing chafes the shaft.”

Zits lunged across the counter but Long Hair pulled him back. “Fuck you, asshole.”

Tobey glanced down and flipped a page in his Indie Film magazine. “Mm. Clever.”

Zits straightened. He had one card left to play and he was entirely too confident in the move. “Hey. I wanna speak to the manager. Dick.”

Tobey looked up from his magazine. “I am the manager, you dipshit. Now get the hell out of my store before I call the fucking cops and have them throw you out.”

The three teenagers exchanged looks before stumbling to the exit, muttering various expletives under their breaths as they went.

“Yeah, I heard all of that!” Tobey called after them as the bell on the door jingled.

“You handled that well,” Kurt said from behind Tobey.

“You could have jumped in at any time there, buddy.”

“Seemed like you had it handled,” Kurt shrugged.

A young woman stepped up to the counter. Straight blonde hair to her shoulders and curves that Tobey drank in an instant glance, imperceptible the casual observer.

She perceived it. She always did.

“He didn’t have it handled,” the young woman said flatly, placing three DVDs and a member card on the counter.

“I had it handled,” Tobey insisted while he scanned her card. “Sure, I could have used some backup from behind the counter but that’s not to dismiss the overall nature of the situation behind, generally, handled.”

Kurt set his sketch pad aside and fiddled with a television set on the counter. A low-quality video continued playing––it looked like someone had used a cheap video camera to record a movie theater screen.

The girl’s eyebrow went up. “Is that Star Wars?”

Tobey didn’t look. He didn’t have to since they’d been watching the bootleg on a loop for three days. “Yep.”

“The new one?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That just came out in theaters?”

Tobey looked up from scanning the DVDs. “Wow. You’re a regular Veronica Mars. Can’t slip anything past you.”

She all but rolled her eyes and he decided to dial back the sarcasm.

“Yes, Kurt downloaded it a few days ago,” Tobey explained. “I mean, yeah, I paid to see the first two prequels but there was no way in hell I was gonna be stupid enough to let George Fucking Lucas screw me out of another eight bucks for yet another pile of shit he so fondly refers to as epic Star Wars lore.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“It fucking should be.”

“I meant the downloading.”

Tobey held up the three DVDs. “I’m sorry, did you want to rent these movies—” he glanced at the computer screen, “––Alyssa Tanner of 9000 East Westmore Drive, apartment 263? Or is harassing me over my moral obligation to protest the misguided artistic values of a corrupt media empire entertainment enough for you?”

Kurt shot a sideways glance and muttered: “Misguided artistic values?!”

Alyssa shrugged indifferently. “I just thought that in light of your current career path, you might have a better appreciation for the damage caused by downloading movies illegally.”

Kurt put his feet back up on the counter as he turned his attention back to the sketch pad. “Here we go …”

“The damage I cause?!” The mock in Tobey’s outrage was mild at best. “What about the damage George Lucas caused with these blatant cash grabs? Have you seen all the advertisements for this one? He’s spending millions of dollars convincing the world that it’s the greatest film ever!”

“And you’re saying it’s not?”

“If it’s possible, this one is even worse than the last two combined,” Tobey said gravely.

“Dude,” Kurt said, pointing at the television. “It’s the Vader scene.”

Tobey’s hands went up. “Perfect!” To Alyssa: “This is what I’m talking about. This shit is fucking hilarious.”

Alyssa looked at the television as the bootleg copy of Revenge of the Sith played. Darth Vader found out that he killed his girlfriend, clomped around like Frankenstein and then cried out, ‘Nooooo!’

Tobey clicked the television off.

“The only good thing about this movie is that it’s so bad it’s funny,” he said. “We’ve been watching it for days and that Vader scene just keeps getting funnier.”

“You don’t think Lucas deserves a little credit for closing the loop on A New Hope?”

“Does Adolf Hitler deserve credit for closing the loop on World War II?”

“First of all, Hitler lost—”

“Which effectively closed the loop—”

“—and secondly, you’re comparing a movie to a war that literally killed tens of millions of people?!” Alyssa balked.

“I’m comparing three movies to a war that killed tens of millions––”

“Dude!” Kurt cut in.

Tobey sighed. “Fine. Okay. Maybe the prequels aren’t, like, genocide bad––”

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“But they’re still pretty bad.”

At one point, not so long ago, Alyssa had been amused and slightly intrigued by Tobey’s acerbic banter.

That moment had passed.

An awkward silence clung to the air inside the video store. Alyssa glanced at the exit. Kurt’s pencil scratched at his sketch pad.

Tobey held up Alyssa’s rentals. “… you want your movies?”

She took them from Tobey. “Yeah. Thanks.”

She turned for the door and then stopped. “Um …”

“Three day rentals. Due back on Thursday.”

Alyssa turned back to the counter. She grimaced. “Actually, uh, that bootleg—”

Tobey held up a hand. “Wait. Are you saying—”

Alyssa shrugged half-heartedly.

“You wanna borrow my illegally downloaded copy of Revenge of the Sith?”

“I mean, if it’s so bad, you wouldn’t mind letting go of it for a few days,” Alyssa suggested. “Right?”

Tobey studied her grey eyes. There was something about this girl. He chewed his lip, thinking.

“Well?”

Tobey nodded slowly. “Okay, uh, lemme think of a creative way of saying this …” Tobey rubbed his chin and then raised an index finger to the sky. “Oh, I know!”

Tobey threw his hands in the air. “Nooooo!”

*

A VHS rewinder ground on old tape and Kurt cursed as he mashed the eject button, popping the machine open.

“Goddammit,” Kurt seethed. “Why the hell are we still stocking VHS?”

“Same reason we don’t open until four in the afternoon,” Tobey replied as he gathered an armful of DVDs to re-shelve.

“Because you’re too lazy to wake up in the morning?”

“No, because despite appearances, we’re here to serve our customers, Kurt,” Tobey said, strolling the aisles. “Working class Americans. The nine-to-fivers. People rent videos on their way home from work.” Tobey placed a DVD on the shelf. “Or in the middle of the night. There’s been studies. Or something.”

Kurt finished untangling the botched tape and tossed it into the trash. “So what you’re saying is that you’ve got a firm grasp on psychological makeup of our clientele.”

“I’m a savante that way.”

“An idiot savante, sure,” Kurt said with an eye roll.

Tobey placed another DVD. “People mock what they don’t understand.”

“So what about that girl, Alyssa?”

“Pretty sure nobody mocks her,” Tobey replied, scanning a shelf. “Fear her, maybe. Beauty is intimidating. Intelligence doubly so. Beauty and intelligence—”

“I meant her psychological makeup.”

Tobey shrugged absently. “If it’s anything like her physical makeup—”

Kurt sighed. “I mean: why does she come in so often? She was just here yesterday.”

Tobey glanced over at his long-time friend. “She had a two-day rental, Kurt,” he said flatly.

“And that explains why she was here for the past five days in a row, how exactly?” Kurt asked patiently.

Tobey pondered this half-heartedly. “She likes movies?”

Kurt went back to his sketch pad. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m an idiot with a stalker, according to you,” Tobey said, shelving the last DVD and returning to his spot behind the counter.

“She’s not a stalker. She’s a nice girl.”

Naughty thoughts ran through Tobey’s head and his eyes went wide. “I bet she is.”

Kurt put his pencil down. “You know, people might actually like you if you weren’t so sarcastic all the time.”

“What are you talking about? People like me. You’re the one who pointed out that I have a stalker,” Tobey said. “Plus, you’re a person, too. You like me.”

Kurt tilted his hand back and forth. “Eh.”

Tobey shrugged indifferently. “Friends come and go. Porn is forever.”

“That sixty-inch TV in your bedroom working out well for you?”

Tobey turned and leaned against the counter, facing Kurt. “I watch it as I fall asleep so that I have pleasant dreams. Of vaginas.” Tobey spread his hands an arms-length apart. “Ten feet wide.”

“So what you’re saying is that the addition of the big-screen pornocopia has obviated any pressing need to actually be liked by the fairer sex?”

“Who needs to be liked when you have a stalker? Plus, there’s always Horatio.”

Kurt blinked. “Who the hell is Horatio?”

Tobey held up his left hand. “We have a very intimate relationship. He knows how to please me in ways that most women just don’t understand. And yes, the big screen pornocopia helps.”

The bell on the door jangled.

“A vagina ten feet wide?” Kurt asked.

“Ten feet wide.”

“You call your hand Horatio?”

“You spend all day drawing superheroes with their dongs out,” Tobey said.

Kurt nodded. “Point.”

“Good to see you’re being as professional as ever.” The voice came from the other side of the counter. It sounded tired and annoyed.

Tobey frowned and didn’t bother to turn around. He grabbed his film magazine. “You know what? Fuck off, my dude. I don’t have time for your shit right now.”

The man on the other side of the counter glanced around the empty video store. “I can see that,” he said. “These late hours of yours really keep the place hopping.”

Tobey sighed and deliberately turned around to face his older brother. “Fuck you very much, Walt.”

Tobey’s brother was two years older and looked about as tired as he sounded. A dark suit with a loosened tie, coifed hair grown limp, distinct bags under his eyes.

Walt help up his hands in a show of  surrender, car keys dangling from his right fingers. “Just here to drop the car off. I’ve got a guy coming first thing in the morning to detail it. Karen’s picking me up in a few minutes.”

Walt tossed the keys to Tobey. They hit him on the chest and bounced on the counter. They stared at each other for an awkward moment.

Kurt focused intently on giving She-Hulk a very large, very veiny cock.

“Uh, last I checked, I’m not your fucking valet, Walt,” Tobey said.

Walt sighed wearily. “I’m not asking you to be—”

“Cause you just up and threw those keys like––”

“Tobey, we need to talk.”

“I really can’t see why.”

“Can we just––”

“Get the fuck out of my store, Walter,” Tobey growled from across the counter.

Walt ran a hand through his hair. “… it’s gonna be five years next month.”

Kurt glanced up and could see Tobey visibly tense, clenching his fists. He promptly looked back down.

“Yeah, so?”

“So …” Walt said slowly as he nodded. “… I want you to come visit them with me.”

Walt tried to meet Tobey’s eyes but the anger shooting across from his brother was brutal.

“… I think it’ll be good for you, Tobe,” Walt said softly.

“No.”

“Tobey––”

“I haven’t gone yet,” Tobey spat out the words. “I’m not going to go and I’m certainly not ever going to go with you.”

“Tobe––”

Tobey cut him off. “Just get the fuck out, Walt. You can wait for Karen outside.”

“I want to talk about the store.”

Tobey’s hands went up. “There it is! Jesus fucking Christ. You lasted all of two minutes that time, Walter. When are you gonna give that one up? They left it to me, cut and dry.”

Kurt decided that She-Hulk’s cock wasn’t big enough and needed to be more throbby.

Tobey shot lasers at his brother. “… you don’t have anything to do with Videorama.”

“Yeah. Okay. You’re right,” Walt conceded. “I haven’t had anything to do with the store for a long time. But that’s not how I want it to be.”

“Well boo-fucking-hoo,” Tobey spat. “It’s not like you have a lot of options since, again, they left it to me, cut and dry.”

Walt straightened his shoulders and looked up, meeting his younger brother’s icy gaze. “Tobey,” he said, “I want to buy the store.”

Tobey’s anger kept his mouth moving before the words registered. “Don’t even fucking––wait––no––what?”

Walt swallowed. “I want to buy Videorama from you.”

For once, Tobey had absolutely nothing to say.

In the silence, Kurt’s pencil slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor.

“Oh, nooooo,” Kurt said through a quiet grimace.

###

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jordan Krumbine is a professional video editor, digital artist, and creative wizard currently quarantined in Kissimmee, Florida. When not producing content for the likes of Visit Orlando, Orlando Sentinel, or AAA National, Jordan is probably yelling at a stubbornly defective Macbook keyboard, tracking creative projects in Trello, and animating quirky videos with LEGO and other various toys.

Leave a dollar in the Tip Jar: https://ko-fi.com/krumbine

Short stories: https://bit.ly/2XY5D7I Books on Amazon Kindle: https://amzn.to/3bsqK5Y YouTube: https://bit.ly/2W41nSG Twitter: https://bit.ly/2VH0Vbu Facebook: https://bit.ly/2VpnylZ LinkedIn: https://bit.ly/2xnmk1e

http://www.krumbco.com

#krumbine #jordan krumbine #short stories #short story #fiction #VHS #star wars #episode 3 #revenge of the sith #writer #writeblr #amwriting #wip #may the fourth be with you

[scaryscarecrows]

Who Protects the Protector?

Cherry can smell a rookie a mile away. Their sense of self-importance, of, ‘I’ll be the one to bring law and order to Gotham!’ is practically a cheap cologne.

This one is no exception. And he’s not local, she can tell. It’s the swagger. Newbies put it on to try and seem bigger, not worth the trouble of an attempted mugging. (They’re always worth the trouble of an attempted mugging. Every damn time.)

She and Mia are standing on the corner, debating on whether or not to go for Korean or Greek. Korean’s closer, but they had that last time. And then their quiet conversation is interrupted by this asshole with his aviators sticking out of his pocket and his hat painstakingly adjusted to look cocky-but-not-too-cocky. No playful flirting, then. He’ll take it seriously and haul them to the station, like a dick.

“Officer.”

“Ladies.” He glances at her boobs. They’re nice boobs. It took her twenty minutes to get them into position earlier. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Uh-huh.” She gives him that special judgmental look she reserves for dummies, just so he doesn’t go thinking he can manhandle the merch without paying. “Watcha want, hon.”

He looks a little taken aback, but he recovers fast enough and says, all gung-ho, “The Red Hood.”

One, either his superiors hate him or he’s just that stupid. Two, fuck this guy. Red got himself stabbed last week chasing after a serial killer that’s been running wild for a month. He got the guy, but still.

“Why?” She twists over and he steps back juuuust fast enough to look nervous. He should be. The girls working the other side of town carry tasers. Painful, but not as painful as the switchblades they carry down here. You won’t lose treasured pieces of anatomy to a taser. “Are you going to send reliable officers to patrol down here after you arrest him?”

“I—”

They never do. They don’t come for hostage situations, homicides, none of it. Batman does, sometimes, but half the time he’s busy with the Freak of the Week. He’s not around, not really. Red’s always here, if you look hard enough, if you really need him.

If you scream loud enough, he’ll come.

“You’re just pissy that someone had to take over your damn job,” she snaps. “And that you and your buddies ain’t gettin’ to skim a little off the top anymore.”

“Look, lady, he’s wanted in connection to several murders—”

“So was the guy in two-fourteen Palm Plaza.” She points at the apartment building in question. “People called and called and called about that one, sugar-lamb, and nobody came. Tell him, Mia.”

“Yeah, officer.” Mia bats her lashes at him, but she may as well be trying to kill the guy with her eyes. “He was gonna cut me up in his bathtub, ‘til he got yanked out the window.”

“That’s not—”

“I would have been number four.”

“I’m only asking nicely one more time—”

“Number. Four.” There’s an awkward silence. “Not that you care.”

“I--”

“Go fuck yourself,” Cherry says, grabbing Mia’s elbow in one hand and preparing to draw her switchblade with the other. “We don’t know shit, ‘cept for that the boys in blue don’t give a rat’s ass about coming down here. And if you harass me again, I’ll be making a report.”

“This isn’t harassment, lady, but it’s about to be—”

That’s it. That is it.

She drops Mia’s elbow, turns around, and invades the guy’s space boobs-first. He steps back and ends up with his back against the crosswalk button.

“Red’s done more for us in eight months than you jackasses have managed in decades,” she snarls. “And now that you can stick a toe out of your car without being chopped up and sent back to the station in a box, you want to haul him in and take all the credit. Lemme tell you something, kid, I’ve had to pay for the privilege of keeping my teeth with my body until very recently. Filing a report won’t get me anything, and we both know it. So get back in your car, drive away, and don’t come back.”

He stutters and reddens and for a minute, she thinks he might hit her. But he doesn’t, just squeezes out from between her and the button, and walks away. She turns back to Mia once she’s sure he’s gone and says, “Greek?”

* * *

Abdoul prides himself on his poker face. He’s lived here his whole life, and it’s a valuable life skill.

He’s faced down mobsters before. He knows the type. They come rolling into his coffee shop like they own the place, terrorizing the other customers and making a mess. But these ones are looking for the man currently bleeding out on the floor behind the counter.

Abdoul’s not even sure Red’s conscious. He’d staggered in under his own power, blood leaking through his fingers, and they’d run to help him back here. And then he’d gone down with a low groan and hadn’t moved again, even when Lina pressed a handful of kitchen towels against the wound near his hip. Not two minutes later, these monkeys had stormed the place, screamed for everybody to stay where they were, and started demanding information.

“I’m tellin’ ya, old man, he came in here.”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

The police aren’t coming. The panic button under the counter has been here for years, and it hasn’t worked yet. The shotgun under the counter, on the other hand, works just fine. And if these idiots don’t turn around and walk away, he’s going to pull it out.

“Listen, old-timer—”

It takes everything he’s got not to look down when Lina tugs at a towel that’s caught under his shoe. He does shift his weight though, just a bit. Enough for her to pull it free.

“Get out of my establishment.” He narrows his eyes at the gun pointed at him. “You are mistaken. If you lost an injured man, that’s on you for being too slow and too stupid to keep up. Try the roof, he might have gone up there.”

“There’s no blood, boss,” one of them, nearer to the door, whispers. Damn straight. One of his regulars, Dexter Murphy, a nurse practitioner, had accidentally knocked over the mop bucket Lina had been using when the men had started shouting. Any blood on the tile has long been hit with the small flood of soapy water.

The leader moves his head side to side, like a hunting dog, and finally sighs.

“If I find out you were lyin’ to me, I’ll be back.”

“Maybe you’ll buy something next time.”

The man snarls but stalks out, barking orders to the others. Once they’re gone, Abdoul sighs and crouches down to see what he can do. Red, as it turns out, is conscious; his head lolls towards them and he says, voice weak despite the modulator his helmet must have, “C’n I get whatever th’ pastry of th’ day is?”

“Red,” Abdoul says gently, “you come back in here when you’re not bleeding, and you can have whatever you want.”

“Lemme see.” Dexter’s suddenly there, too, batting Lina’s hands away. “Okay, Red…yeah, that’s not really that bad, man, just stay still for me, okay? Okay…”

* * *

Whoever this new guy is, he’s good.

And by good, Alex means they’re fucked. Okay, so she maybe should have waited for backup before climbing in the window. There was a little boy up there, man, she had to try and get him. So that’s on her. But it takes skill to catch a Bat, and smarts to keep one from breaking out and ruining your life.

But this guy, whoever he is, has done it. Her hands are cuffed (her own cuffs!), the little boy is literally like seven, and the Red Hood is…

He’s…

They’ve been calling this guy the Butterfly Collector. And right now, he’s living up to his name; Hood’s been attached the floor courtesy of what looks like a giant railroad spike through his torso. Probably custom, like the others have been. He’s still alive, still conscious, even, but every too-deep breath makes him whimper and he’s clearly trying desperately not to move so much as an inch.

“Hey.” The helmet turns carefully towards her. “You. Okay?”

She said it when she came here and she says it now; vigilantes are a special sort of stupid. She makes her way to him anyway, wishes the bastard would have at least cuffed her hands in front of her, and says, “Yeah. Backup’ll be here soon.”

“Mm. F’you s-s-s-seeeeeee.” He gulps hard like he’s swallowing something. Blood, maybe. “A chance ta get Tommy outta here. Go.”

“You got it.”

“C’mere, kiddo.” The kid-Tommy-moves closer. He looks terrified and blotchy and puffy, like he’s been crying. She can’t blame him. He gets as close to Hood as he probably dares, though, and tilts his head. “This’s. Officer Clemmens.”

“Alex,” she supplies. The little boy glances at her but doesn’t say anything.

“She’s gonna get you outta here, ‘kay?” Maybe. Hopefully. “T-Tommy’s. Mute. S-s-so—”

“Okay, Hood. Maybe shut up now, okay?”

“Mm…”

The door opens and she’s on her feet, shepherding Tommy as far away from the Butterfly Collector as possible. The man doesn’t even look at them. He’s looking at Hood, who’s still trying to regulate his breathing and to stay still.

“How long does it take you to die?” He stalks forward and drops down, hands pressing Hood’s shoulders down until he yelps. “You’ve been—”

It may not be fighting fair, but neither is cuffing a girl’s hands behind her back, and Mama didn’t raise no weak bitch. Alex takes her shot and brings her foot up between the bastard’s legs, straight into his balls. The noise he makes would be funny…okay, yeah, it’s kinda funny. Petty vengeance and all.

It’s not funny when he gets up, still sort of hunched over. She kicks him again, this time in the stomach, and he staggers a few feet away.

“Get the hell out of here, asshole.”

He pulls a gun-her gun, that dick-and this is it, this is how she dies-

-where’d he go.

Seriously, where’d he go.

Tommy pulls on her pants and when she turns around, she recognizes the sign he makes. Every cop knows that sign, just like every cop knows pretty much every translation of the word it’s for.

Batman.

About time.

She shrieks when he’s suddenly behind her, unlocking the cuffs before teleporting to Hood’s side. There’s sirens a few blocks away.

Wait. They don’t get along, do they.

“I’ll kick you, too, if you try anything,” she warns. The Bat doesn’t even pretend to care. Hood makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Th-thought you’d. ‘Rest me.”

Just for that, she’s tempted.

“Shut up and don’t die, Hood.”

He doesn’t answer. She ushers Tommy away so he can’t see what Batman’s doing to him. And by the time backup arrives, they’re both gone. How? Who knows. But she worries, a little teeny tiny bit, that Hood’s dead. He doesn’t appear after that for a good month and a half.

Maybe it’s bad, but when a serial rapist turns up tied to a stoplight, intestines looped around the pole, she feels a little relief. Not a lot, because damn that’s brutal and really, really illegal, but a bit.

It’s Gotham, after all.

THE END

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #the Jason Todd Protection Squad: Gotham edition #Batman #the Crime Alley denizens will fight you #that's their local asshole get your own

[shinobicyrus]

Hungry Like the Wulf

@logicalghost requested that their Christmas Truce gift be “Some content of Wulf and Danni together being pals.”Friend, you came to the right place. 

Dani spots the ghost-cops first, over a dozen of them flying in formation, armored in riot gear and faces hidden behind visors like the ghosts of police brutalities past. She steers clear, backing into some midnight shadows against a brick wall, but it’s not necessary. They’re completed focused on something else; calling out to each other, harassing and circling and firing beams from their nightsticks at something she can’t see. 

This all seems very familiar, somehow. 

Whatever, ecto-memory déjà vu is something Dani is used to at this point. She pulls out her phone from her pants - because jumpsuits don’t have pockets and Danny is stupid - to check the time. Sees not only is it late, but she has four unread messages from her clone-bro and six more from Jazz. Probably wondering where she is. 

Duh, making great decisions, obviously. 

Turning invisible and trailing them cautiously, Dani catches up to them near the warehouse district, because everything great at one in the morning always happens near a bunch of old warehouses. She hears the tail end of a scuffle as she approaches one building painted with tagger handles and ghost graffiti and peeks her head through the wall. 

There are definitely less riot-cop ghosts in here than she had spotted in the air- the smears of lightly glowing ectoplasm splattered on the floor and walls are pretty strong evidence what probably happened to them. 

Even with only half of them left, it’s still enough to dogpile on the single hulking shape on the floor. The dusty concrete floor is scratched with huge gouges and the thing is all muscles and fur, snarling and struggling to shake off the Ghost-Zone Five-O while they affix glowing, high-tech looking manacles to its wrists.  

It snaps out with a wolf-like muzzle full of sharp teeth, growling obscenities in an eerily familiar language that flips a switch in the back of Danielle’s head. Her lips move without her thinking.

“...Wulf?”

No one else in the warehouse seems to hear her, but the pointed ears of the werewolf-looking ghost (Wulf, why does she know his name is Wulf?) twitch before the ghost-cops shove his face into the ground. 

One ghost is semi-standing a few feet away overseeing the spectacle, shirtless except for the long, douchey red cape. He’s got an eyepatch and an even douchier goatee. There’s some kind of blaster belted on his hip, but he’s still just standing there watching the other ghosts do all the work, holding up a fist-sized cube that has a warbling, glowing aura coming off of it. 

“Walker’s gonna be glad to hear that this little toy ended up doing the job,” Eyepatch tosses it up and down lazily,, savoring the whole situation. “This new mayor’s got a lot more goin’ for him that the last duly-elected meatsuit.” 

“Mi eskapis iam antaŭe,” Wulf snarls into the ground. One of the cops prods the sparking end of its baton into his neck and he flitches. “Mi...mi povas fari ĝin denove.”

“Not this time, mutt,” Eyepatch gives the cube another toss. “So long as we’ve got this, you can’t use those claws of yours to cut through the fabric between dimensions and...and...”

About this time he notices that the cube never came down. 

“See, I thought this looked like one of dad’s evil doohickeys! Nice to see he’s making friends with someone besides his cat.”

Eyepatch whips around to find Dani floating visibly overhead, turning over the cube and studying at it closely. 

(Yep, definitely looks like a box-thingie. Hmm, yes, fascinating)

Eyepatch wastes a few seconds staring at Dani, then back at his empty hand still hanging expectantly open. “Wha- who- where did you- give that back!”

“But I’m looking at it.” She keeps fiddling with it like it’s a stubborn Rubik’s cube. “Is this twisty bit here important? This seems important.” 

“I don’t know where the black hells you came from,” Eyepatch raises a two-pronged blaster that charges up with a high-pitched whine. “But you have three seconds to turn over Walker’s property before I-”

Dani licks the cube.

It tastes like metal, ozone, and that buzzy weird taste she’s come to associate with ectoplasm. Like someone put formaldehyde and grave dirt in a blender with old lime jello. Blegh.

The arm holding up the blaster wavers, then lowers as the ghost gapes at her. “Did you- did you just-”

“I licked it it’s mine now,” Dani tells him. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“That’s NOT a ru-” He grinds his teeth. With a snap of his fingers, the entire posse of ghost-cops rush off of fully chained-up Wulf and flank Eyepatch in a loose cordon. Shields up and batons all pointed at Dani like a firing squad. “I don’t know who you think you are, interfering wi-”

“Dani Phantom.”

“-official poli- wait what?”

“Dani Phantom,” she repeats. “You asked who I am. That’s me.”

“You’re not Danny Phantom.”

“Uh, yeah I am. Look!” She points at the symbol on her hoodie. “See! I have the ‘D’! And I am clearly talking about the logo, not my chest, for the record.” 

“You’re not Danny Phantom! We’ve all met Danny Phantom and he’s a-”

“Oh yeah, he’s like my...cousin? Twin brother? We’re related, but it’s like, really complicated.”

A few of the cop-ghosts lift up their helmet visors and exchange puzzled looks. 

“You’re both named Danny Phantom?” One of them speaks up.

Eypatch spins around to face him, furious. “Shut up, Gerald!”

Dani says to Gerland, “Yeah, but I’m Dani with an ‘i’.” 

“That must get really confusing,” the same ghost-cop nods sympathetically. 

“Thank you, yeah it really is! Everyone else is like, ‘oh we can just call you ‘elle’ and yeah Danny had the name first but I still don’t see why I have to change my-”

Eyepatch lifts up his blast and fires, making the upper body of the ghost-cop that spoke up disappear in a rush of ruby energy. What’s left of his lower half loses all consistently and melts into a puddle on the floor. 

“Fraternizing with lawbreakers is. Against. The. RULES!” Eyepatch roars at the puddle. The other cops float back a few nervous feet. 

Dani’s gasps. “Gerald, no! He was like, my best friend and everything! What the hell, dude?”

“Now imagine what I’m going to do to you, you little punk.” He levels the blaster up at her again. “If you don’t that box over right the fu-”

“Kay.” Dani tosses the cube at him. He actually drops his gun, fumbling with both hands before he finally gets a solid enough hold on it.

“Uh...right. That’s...good.” He looks down at the cube at his hands as if he can’t quite believe that it’s actually there. “Well...don’t think this means we’re going to be lenient on you, especially since you just gave up your only bargaining chip! Heh.”

He chuckles with a grin of crooked teeth and nasty promises. The rest of his crew join in, if a bit more nervously. 

Dani flaps her hand. “Meh, it’s okay, I didn’t really need it anyway. I just needed to district you for a bit while the other-me got Wulf outta those chains.”

Eyepatch and the ghost-cops stop laughing.

“....come again.”

“Saluton.” 

Warily, they all turn in unison and see Wulf, free and towering over them, teeth bared. Peeking over his shoulder is another Danielle, who waves at them. 

Wulf growls out in stilted English: “Run.”

The ghost-cops all scatter in different directions, leaving Eyepatch rooted to the spot, still holding the cube. 

Ever-so slowly, Eyepatch lifts up the cube up to Wulf, who plucks it delicately out of his hand with two claws and crushes it in his massive paw. 

“I think I’ll just...uh....” Eyepatch cocks his thumb over his shoulder. “I think I’ll just go...now...?”

Wulf’s grimace turns into a grin. “Lasu min helpi vin.”

With one paw, he grabs Eyepatch by the throat and lifts him clear off the ground. The other paw reaches out and slashes at the empty air next to them. 

It reminds Dani of a green screen, like he’d ripped away a piece of the fake background and revealed another world beneath it. Through the jagged hole Dani can see the writhing black expanse of the Ghost Zone, but no place she’s ever seen before. Skeletal trees of jagged crystal fractals, pits of crackling ectoplasmic fire, and somewhere- echoing distantly but still incredibly loud- a hungry roar shakes the rusted guts of the warehouse all the way down to Dani’s ribcage. 

“Waitwaitwaitwheredoesthatportallead-AGGHHH!”

Wulf throws him through. The air snags and the hole seal itself up with a little pop of air, cutting off Eyepatch’s scream instantly. 

“THAT WAS FOR GERALD!” both Danis roar simultaneously.

The warehouse is suddenly very quiet. Wulf’s heavy panting echoes very loudly on hollow concrete. His hoodie is filthy and torn in places and his hackles are raised. 

“Hey man, you okay?” Dani asks. 

“Yeah, you were kind of in a bad way,” her duplicate adds. 

Wulf steadies his breathing. “Mi estas...mi estos bone.”

“Really?” Dani says skeptically. “’Cause you do not look okay.”

He stands up a little straighter, ears perking with interest. “Vi...komprenas min?”

The duplicate Dani (Dupli? Dupli-Dani? Yeah! Dupli-Dani) shrugs. “I mean...more or less? We know a couple of languages including Spanish or Portuguese.” 

“So we can get the gist of it,” Dani finishes. 

Seeing Wulf’s head dart confused between two different Danis, she floats up to her duplicate and holds out a fist. “Nice work on the chains, Dani.”

“Thanks, Dani!” Dupli-Dani returns the fist bump. “You weren’t so bad of a distraction.”

“Aw, shucks, now you’re making us blush.”

“You know we can’t resist making cute girls blush,” Dupli-Dani winks. 

“Mi tre konfuzas nun,” Wulf confesses. 

“Sorry,” they say in unison. Both Danis glow, and then Dupli-Dani’s form wavers like a reflection on water and shifts back into Danielle’s body. “Sorry about that, just unlocked that little trick last week and it takes some getting used to. Is it weird that I always end up hitting on myself when I do that? No reason, asking for a friend.”

Wulf is suddenly in her face- she’s floating only a few feet off the ground, and she almost recoils at such something so huge and toothy in her personal space, but starts giggling when his noises starts sniffling all over her. 

“Ahhh! Hahahaha, quit it!” She giggles and squirms when his cold wet nose snuffles over her bare midriff. 

“Oh! So-ry,” He rears back, brow scrunching adorably up in confusion. “Amiko Danny?”

“Uh...sorta?”

“Vi odoras kiel li, sed vi estas...malsama.”

“It’s a long story, but...you can call me Danielle, if it helps?” 

He thinks about it for a few moments, then shakes his big, furry head. “Ne, vi estas Amiko Dani.”

“Aw, I heard the ‘i’ in there. Thanks big guy.” She rubs the back of her head and looks helplessly around the warehouse. “So uh...were you like...doing anything tonight before the Green Meanies tried to throw you in the slammer?”

“Ne vere,” He shrugs. “Eble vi povas diri al mi vian tre longan rakonto?”

“I’d...I’d like that? Yeah! You hungry?”

Even someone without any understanding of Esperanto couldn’t misinterpret the sudden lolling tongue. “Ĉiam.“

Wulf glances nervously up and down the street. This late there aren’t even buses or a stray car going down the road. Nothing but the traditional creatures of the night: ghostwolves, half-ghosts, goths, and service industry workers on the skeleton shift. 

The shop window next to them was dark. Wulf adjusts his baseball cap in the reflection of the glass. “Ĉi tio estas stulta.” 

“Is not.” Thinking it would be unfair that he’d be the only visible ghost in the place, Dani stayed in her ghost form as well. When she stood next to him, she could see both of their eyes glowing back at them in the window. 

“Ĝi ne funkcios.”

“It’ll totally work, trust me.”

“Bone. Sed estos via kulpo, se ili panikos.”

“Midnight breakfast or a coffee shop full of panicking goths. I’m fine with either one.”

She walks across the street towards the diner, completely undisguised save the her spare hoodie covering her noticeable costume. 

Perfect. No one will suspect at thing. 

Wulf sighs loudly before following her. 

They elected to take the long route there, Dani flying along Wulf while he loped on all fours across rooftops. She doesn’t think he can actually fly, which is weird because the only other ghost she’s met that doesn’t is Sidney, and he claims it’s because he gets vertigo when he floats.

Still, at least Wulf has the claw-portal thing. That’s pretty cool. 

At the door, Wulf hunches low, ears flat against his head while he wrings his giant paw-hands nervously. 

“Relax, Duran-Druan,” Dani reaches up and pats his arm. “I have it on good authority that freaking out over a ghost is an instant loss in goth-cred. It’ll be fine.”

He only nods quietly and hunches lower, trying to appear as small as possible. 

The diner is exactly like she remembers: skulls everywhere, memorabilia of vintage movie monsters, some occult imagery that would make Sam’s mom faint, a wall turned into a crowded collage of dozens of punk-rockers from unknown local bands to Violent Pacifist and Dumpty Humpty.

“Hi there!” Dani walks up to a bored looking waitress whose dark mascara is hiding the tired bags under her eyes pretty well. She’s cute, all piercings, short pink hair, and a skirt that is mostly impractical buckles. 

“Hey,” she returns, bored and sleep deprived. 

“Can we get a table for three, please?”

“Three? But there’s only tw-” she freezes, finally noticing the seven foot tall shaggy wolfman ghost behind what she’d probably originally assumed to be a white-haired goth girl.

Dani smiles pleasantly at her, fully aware that her eyes are glowy ghostly bright. “I think he counts as two on his own, yanno?”

Wulf waves at her shyly. 

“Uh. Right. Yeah. Sure.” She actually recovers admirably, blinking a few extra times at Wulf like she’s trying to reset her eyes before gathering up two menus. “This way, please.”

She leads them through the diner, past couples, trios, and small booths of various goths, punks, the occasional emo, and a few ghost-groupies in Ember merchandise. 

Most look at Wulf for no more than few seconds before returning to their black coffees, phones, and conversations. 

Dani elbows Wulf and stage-whispers. “Told ya.”

The waitress sits them down at a corner table next to a rainbow flag that’s decorated with spooky bats. It’s a bit of work with the tail, but Wulf manages to situate himself on the study metal chair without any problems. 

“Can I uh...start you off with anything?” She asks. 

“Kafo, bonvolu.” 

“Two coffees, please,” Dani translates.

“Got it,” her black sneakers make next to no sound as she goes to fetch the pot.

“Bone, vi estis korekta,” Wulf admits. He looks around all the diner, tail thumping against the legs of his chair as he takes in the atmosphere. ”Ĉu vi multe venas ĉi tien?”

“Yep, come here all the time after patrol. It used to be just goths but after a while it kinda became this...safe-spot for anyone that was out late at night that needed someplace safe. Plus, the coffee’s not bad.”

As if to prove her point, the waitress returns with a fresh pot and fills their cups to the brim. 

“Dankon, sinjorino.” Wulf says, still reading the menu. The menu looks cartoonishly small in his paws.

“No prob. You two want anything to eat?” 

Dani looks up from her menu. “Oven still on?” 

“‘course.”

“I’ll have the Black Dahlia.”

“Tri...’March of Pigs,’” Wulf manages.

“You want three whole-” She looks at him again. “Uh, sure yeah, okay. Take about half an hour.”

“That works,” Danny hands back her menu. Wulf carefully does the same.

The waitress (the name tag on her chest says Abigail, Danielle finally notices) hesitates a moment at the sight of Wulf’s claws, but just as carefully takes the menu and says, “Just holler if you need anything,” before she leaves again.

Neither Dani or Wulf say anything. Somewhere, old speakers static out deceptively cheery Voltaire songs to serenade the witching-hour crowd with.

“Do..” Wulf starts awkwardly. “Vi diris ke vi havas longan rakonto-”

“I’m a clone.”

Wulf’s mouth snaps shut.

Dani noisily sips her coffee. 

Thing is, Danny, Sam, and Tuck already knew. Danny had told Jazz, Valerie had found out in the worse way possible, and when the time came to finally out himself - and her- to Maddie and Jack, he’d done most of the talking while she sat next to him on the couch, squeezing Jazz’s hand hard.

She’s never actually said it. Especially not the ‘C’ word. 

“I mean, I know I said it was a long story and it definitely is but when you boil it down that’s sort of the major part. We call each other ‘cousins’ to make it less weird but technically Danny’s more like my twin brother and the guy who made me was evil and couldn’t decide whether to throw me away or dissect me for evil science and it’s not like I can like, go to a therapist or a non-Jazz professional about this 'cause I think being the unwanted byproduct of an evil plot to replace a deranged billionaire’s teenaged archnemesis because I was a girl and had health problems from botched cloning techniques might have given me a few...issues.”

Wulf never once takes his eyes off of her. He blinks at her slow, gaze steady and pupil-less, but strangely not at all unnerving. His big wolf ears are perked and attentive. 

“Also I can’t be 100% sure but I think I’m gay.”

Holding up the coffee cup with precise, dainty care in his claw, Wulf took a polite sip with a big, slooping green tongue, then set it down with a clink. 

Finally, clearing his throat, Wulf says, slow and heavily accented: “That iz ruff, buddy.” 

Dani stares at him. 

He nods at her sagely, a giant, furry philosopher wearing a filthy hoodie and a stolen ‘Axion Labs’ baseball cap. Then, with a twinkle in his eyes, he grins at her. 

Dani can’t hold it in anymore and bursts out laughing, keeling over and slapping the table as her sides start to ache. 

When Abigail comes back to their table with two trays loaded with food, she’s even more confused than she had been before.    

#Truce18 #Christmas Truce 2018 #Wulf #Dani Phantom #Danny Phantom #Merry Christmas #logicalghost #I had fun with this #I don't know when it happened #but I love the idea of these two generally forgotten side-characters being really weird pals #with Danielle insisting on taking the giant scary wolfman ghost to places he CLEARLY shouldn't be able to go to #but somehow Dani barrels through like nothing is weird and confuses all the normal people into submission #plus Dani's practically a half-feral ghost kid anyway she and Wulf would get along great #R.I.P. Gerald we hardly knew you

[kumkaniudaku]

Stop and Frisk

Inspired by a pic by @brianabreeze. This is throwback CoCo and Chad. 

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of police misconduct. 

Word Count: 2,014

“I told Hakeem had a crush on you, CoCo.”

“You said he had a crush! A crush is a shy wave and some googly eyes. A crush isn’t stealing your grandmother’s ring and proposing to a woman twice your age!”

“Love knows no bounds or age,” Chadwick laughed, fueled by your irritated eye roll and attempt to walk ahead of him.

“You probably encouraged him, jackass.”

“That’s what you get for thinking because, I didn’t. As a matter of fact, I tried telling him that you were already married to me but, he was ready to fight for your love.”

“Are you serious,” You asked. Chadwick took a break from smiling to look you in the eye. You continued to stare him down, hoping for him to crack and laugh but, he didn’t budge. He was telling the truth. “Oh my God. I’m never coming back to your job again. I’ll just sit outside and wait.”

“Nah, you can’t do that. I need you in two weeks to help create set pieces with the girls. They love you.” He put his backpack over his head and bent his wrist, “Mr. Chad, when is Ms. Tasha coming back? Why can’t she come everyday? Wah wah wah.”

His imitation of the preteen girls in his classes at the Schomburg Center made you laugh though you tried to suppress the small giggle. Your giggle morphed into full on laughter as Chadwick continued to stand with his his hand on his hip and bounced his leg in faux annoyance.

“Okay, you can stop now, Tatianna. You act just like her!”

“Whatever,” he laughed, slinging his backpack back over the sleeves of his leather jacket. “If you had to deal with them fresh outta school, you’d pick up some of their bad ass tendencies too. Work is over though. You hungry?”

“If you’re asking if I’ll cook, the ans-”

“Are you hungry,” he repeated in a more stern tone. Your heart leapt into your throat for reasons unknown.

“Y-yeah...I guess. What’d you, uh, what’d you have in-in mind?”

Your flustered sputtering wasn’t lost on him as he regarded you with a wide smile and a head nod toward the sidewalk in front of him. “There’s spot a few blocks up with some good soul food. That cool with you?” You nodded your compliance, widening the smile on his gorgeous face. “Cat got your tongue, Mrs. Simmons?”

“Oh, shut up!”

His teasing never let up along the trip to his suggested eating option. The warmth of summer was but a distant memory in the chill of early fall causing you to walk closer to Chadwick to share his body heat. He took the interaction further, draping his arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side. Laughter and the banter between old friends intertwined in the Harlem sunset adding a picture perfect backdrop to the weekend on the horizon.

As you and Chadwick approached the crosswalk at the end of the block, he was the first to spot the two white cops posted in their parked squad car. Chadwick gave the officers a curt nod while switching your position from the outside to inside of the sidewalk. His chest tightened with an eerie and unsettling feeling he couldn’t identify.

“Hey, stay close okay,” He whispered to you when he was past the car. The question knocking behind your lips never made it into the atmosphere when you looked up at him. His eyes said enough.

As if staged by a Hollywood director, the doors of the cruiser opened and shut, introducing the officers to the outside air.

“Hey you! Leather jacket,” Chadwick took a heavy breath and stopped, keeping his back turned and you close to his side. “You hear me talking to you?”

“Yeah...yeah, I do. My bad. We were just talking about getting some food and missed what you said the first time.”

“Turn around, boy.”

Chadwick’s fist clenched against your shoulder in reaction to the cop’s belittling tone. After another deep breath to compose himself, he turned slowly to face the two obstacles to a safe trip home.

“You a student? Where’s your ID,” the taller of the duo asked. His ocean blue eyes seemed to glimmer with happiness as he approached Chadwick.

“Nah, not a student. I work near the YMCA a clock or two up the way.”

“Then what’s in the bag,” The second officer, an average sized white man with dark eyes, barked. “What do you need a bookbag for if you’re not a student.”

“Is he supposed to carry all of his things in his hands like some type of nomad?” Your mouth and tendency to speak with no filter rattled off the question without a second thought. Chadwick took a look back at you with pleading eyes.

“Tasha, please. I got it.”

“Give it to me.” The first officer held out his hand for the bag as he tapped his foot impatiently.

“With all due respect, officer, I didn't do anything wrong. What do you-”

“Give him the bag!”

Chadwick had no time to respond before his face was pressed into the cool brick of a nearby building. His backpack was roughly pulled away from his body and tossed to the side, making it easy for the second officer to force his arms behind his back.

“No! You can’t do that! He didn’t do anything!” Your shrieks nearly made your voice hoarse as you watched the scene unfold. “Let him go!”

“I’m alright, CoCo. Just go to my apartment. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

While one officer forced his hands in and out of Chadwick’s pockets in an unnecessary frisk, the other rifled through his backpack in search of contraband that didn’t exist. Chadwick made no attempt to resist, even through the forearm pressed against his neck and the verbal abuse directed toward him. He desperately wanted to wanted to end the public humiliation and go home. He needed to lock himself away from the cruelty of the outside world and scream at the ceiling to release the anger boiling in the pit of his belly. He needed to stop your pained cries and calm the fear clouding your mind. He needed to get through this alive.

“Stop throwing his stuff on the ground! He doesn’t have anything!”

“Do you want to go to jail the afternoon, Miss?” The second officer watched with a smug smile as you took a step back from him. “That’s what I thought. Shut the hell up.”

“C’mon, man, don’t talk to her like that.”

“You shut your ass up, too. What the hell is a kid from South Carolina doing in Harlem? You selling drugs around here?”

“What? No! I work down the street. I just told you that. I’m a teacher!”

“Teacher my ass. How the fuck does a teacher afford leather jackets and shit.”

“What kind of question is that?”

The officer grunted in response to Chadwick’s rebuttal before directing his attention to his partner. “You find anything, Dobbs?”

“Nothing,” He answered, tossing the empty backpack to the dirty ground with contempt. “He’s good.”

“Officer Dobbs? Is that your name,” You questioned as they pushed Chadwick out of their grip and retreated to their police cruiser. “You can’t just stop people because they dare to be black on the streets! All of these people saw you,” you motioned toward the small crowd gathered near the incident.

Chadwick paid no mind to your speech as he gathered his things and stuffed them into his backpack. Nothing you said, no matter how profound and true it was, would change the men responsible for souring the evening. They were following the orders of someone else that would never hear your passionate presentation.

“Aaron,” your legs carried you as fast they could cover the short distance between you and your friend. You crouched beside him, wrapping your arms around his tense frame. “Are you okay? Let me look at you.”

You frantically searched for any physical signs of pain and injury, completely bypassing the distant look in his eyes. He allowed you pacify your need to evaluate his well being for until you were satisfied with your findings.

“I’m fine, Tasha.”

“Are you sure? We can go to police station right now an-”

“Tasha,” he repeated, stopping your rant. “I just wanna go home.”

_________

Thick silence hung over Chadwick’s apartment long after he ushered you inside and locked the door. His portion of the Chinese takeout delivered hours ago remained untouched on the worn coffee table as he stared at the wall in front of him. You chose to move about his dwelling in relative silence, cleaning what you saw fit to keep your mind busy.

“You want me to put that away,” you asked, pointing at the container of food sitting in front of him.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

You took a moment to look at him, hoping that he would focus on you. He didn’t. He continued to look past your body to stare at a spot on the wall and make sense of his thoughts.

What did he do to deserve that type of harassment? Could he have stopped it? Was it his clothes or the way he walked? Why was his skin tone so intimidating to people who did not and would never get the chance to know him? What would have happened if he was alone? Would he have seen his family again? The kids at the center? His coworkers?

You?

The futon dented in the space beside him as you took a seat. For the first time since the incident, he turned his head to look at you.

“I appreciate you for...sticking around. I promise we’ll go out tomorrow. All day if you want.”

“Don’t worry about that. We can sit in here all weekend, I don’t care.”

He nodded, “Sorry you had to see that.”

“This isn’t about me. How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” he spoke up. His voice was barely above a whisper as he returned his attention to the wall. “I’m mad. I’m confused and hurt. I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to feel all of those things. They shouldn’t have done that to you.” You felt the rough pads of his fingers grip your knee and release in time with his deep breath. “Are you sleeping in here tonight?”

He nodded again, having no desire to force out words. Without speaking, you disappeared into his bedroom for a minute to gather items. A large comforter hung across your shoulder to accompany the two pillows tucked underneath your arm. When you returned to the couch, you spread the blanket across your body on one end before doing the same for him.

“What are you doing,” he asked, catching the pillow you tossed in his direction.

“If you’re sleeping out here then, me too. We’re supposed to spend the weekend together. I told you earlier that I wasn't leaving you. I meant it. Good night.”

He stared at you with a hint of a smile as you shifted on the small sitting area to get comfortable. He did the same, placing his legs and feet in the space behind you. Silence returned to the room to serve as the backdrop for your slumber. He watched your chest rise and fall with each breath under the light of the single lap in the room for longer than he should have until sleep pulled his eyelids together.

His entire life, Chadwick assumed that the man was responsible for making the woman in his care feel safe. His father did it for his mother, his brothers did it for the women in their lives and, since he met you, he made sure that your were protected even when you protested. But with you nearby, peacefully resting on the other end of the couch, that tables turned.

He was secure. He was safe.

Reaching over to the floor lamp beside him, he gripped the cord to pull the plug from the socket. He took one last look at your sleeping face and smiled.

“Good night, CoCo.”

TAGS: @njadont @k-michaelis @wakandanmoonchild @idilly @texasbama @afraiddreamingandloving @inxan-ity @daytimeheroicsonly @onyour-right @brianabreeze @sisterwifeudaku @ironsquad @killmongerdispussy @90sinspiredgirl @willowtree77785901@maynardqueen101 @heyauntieeee @halfrican-heat @purple-apricots @lalapalooza718 @blue-ishx @profilia @ljstraightnochaser @girl-wtf-lmao @dramaqueenamby @royallyprincesslilly @melaninmarvel @thiccdaddy-mbaku @lavitabella87 @purplehairgawdess @unholyxcumbucket @airis-paris14 @uhlxis @oshasimone @maliadestiny​ @drsunshine97​ @cozyshack2​ @zxddy-panther​ @queentearra​ @skysynclair19​ @retro-melanin​ @mermaidchansons​ @misspooh​ @melanisticroyalty​ @babygirlofwakanda​ @wakanda-4evr​ @sarahboseman​ @karensraisns​ @blackmissmarvel​ @wakandankings​ @kaykay4454fan​ @ororowrites​ @awkwardlyabstract​ @mixedmelanin​ @brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers​ @sunflowerpsalms​ @panthergoddessbast​ @justanotherloveaffair​ @jaeee-http​ @iliketowrite1996​ @blackpantherismyish​ @thompettiedatheaux​ @msincognito67​ @reignsxjackson​ @yaachtynoboat711​ @syreanne​ @ilcb7​ @minim236

#chadwick boseman #chadwick boseman imagine #chadwick boseman fan fiction #chadwick x reader #chadwick boseman x you #black panther fics #black panther fan fiction #black panther fiction #black panther fanfiction #black panther #coco x chad #chad x coco

[jesusatmysix]

(where all the bullshit started. Sky Harbor restroom)

Part I

I should make a video to bring you Johnny Come Lately's who like to join in shit based upon skin colour, and pure fucking ignorance.

Back when I first became homeless. I was sleeping over near the airport. So, in the morning I would go there as dude many homeless females. To use the latrine. Only, I would have to sit there mist times and wait sometimes thirty to forty minutes or more.

So, when all the rest of the homeless women would leave. I'd be just getting the handicapped stall. Well, first the black male janitorial workers started harassing me. Then this stupid ass white boy decided he was going to smear feces on the hc stall toilet seat and blame me for it. I wasn't having it! So, that started a whole bunch of bullshit. Security, airport police, office staff...... Whole goddamn staff over there was in my ass. I never washed in there or any of that. Women would go in there and get butt naked and wash. Do their laundry, etc. Thing was! They were all black! And I never spoke to anyone, so I was the little old white lady.

Well, they had this psychotic ass female security guard. Bitch walked around talking to herself all the time. One day, she confronted me and tried to hit on me. Bet! I do look a little rough around the edges. So, I informed her that I wasn't about that or her. She decided that was going to be the white people's hero and get rid of me. So, she started stalking me. On her job and on the streets. Well, one evening I was seated on the toilet. This bitch climbs up on the toilet seat in the next stall and looks over at me, "were gonna get rid of you." Oh, let me back track. There was a prior incident where she confronted me and threatened to kicked my ass stating, "I'm an ex correctional officer." So, I chased her bitch ass outta the restroom.

Anyway, the evening she looked over the stall wall. I called for airport police. Bastards refused to do their jobs. Here's the thing! I had audio recording of her threats which I posted on social media. When I was talking to police, I was recording that conversation and had called my family to listen in as well. Posted all that on social media. Here's the long arm of the corrupt Blue Line. Shit got worse, because now I had the whole goddamn airport employees in my ass. Fucking police from Phoenix to Mesa in my ass.

So, filed a Civil Complaint against the contract agency and Sky Harbor. Sky Harbors attorney came out to where I sleep at and tried to intimidate me. Police would come out and sit with their headlights on me. So, I stayed there for two years. They contractors changed their name to overt law legal action, but I have family who worked there who found that out. Which didn't matter, because the judicial system here is fucked up corrupt. And court clerks who's job was to stamp and file my documents impeded them.

So, after that dick up the ass. The light rail police pet security started attacking. (Which I have to say are being extremely cordial, which is why I know they're waiting to attack)

*I'm at the library right now, and it's about to close so I have to pick this up later.

So I'm at my sleep spot. The self righteous reprobate criminals revved the hell outta me earlier. I went to buy something to snack on. When I came out, their retarded asses cut a fool. But! That's what reprobates do. And very well I might add.

So where was I? Actually Mesa police chimed in first. I used to rent rooms in Mesa every two weeks! So, they would start following me from the train. All you nder the guise of duty of course. So, when I'd go back the that motel, they'd give me a shitty room. So, I stopped renting. I'll be damned if I'm going to pay a racist bitch to mistreat me. So, fuck'em.

So, now light rail security who job knobbed with Mesa cops started fucking with me. This racist old lady and her black break the colour barrier partner who thought she was a Billy Bad Ass. There's videos of she and the other two. This younger black cunt who thought she was a Billy Bad Ass. She claimed to be an ex correctional guard. I don't know what the fuck they teach these bitches, but their sorry asses need to go sit down somewhere. I quit my job because of some of the people I had to work with. Massive big heads and egos! Anyway, this young one had this white boy she lead around like a puppy.

But, back to Mesa. Most my incidents occurred in Mesa, because of the "you're out eyes and ears" bullshit click. So, this dumb black bitch and your punch ass partner decided to make up their own laws one night, and tell me where is "needed" to sit. So, they ended up calling the police. Oh, you're trespassed for thirty days. LOL! Look up "trespass" under the law. Anyway, I left the train and went where I had to go. Got back on the train. Ran into the same two assholes at Mill station. Except now there were four of them. This big stupid young s.o.b. named Andrea? And his partner. This bastard told me, I'll called my grandmom to come flip your old cripple ass over in that chair. Any motherfucking nice I ever had in me , left the planet. They called Tempe police. The male cop was cool. He ask his female partner, "you wanna search her." The bitch had just walked up, didn't even in now what was what. Her response: "I'd like to put my feet up her ass." Did I say Nice left the planet!? Ok addressed her thusly, "you're judging a book by it's cover, you'd better read some of the pages before your feet leave the ground." I had this entire encounter on video posted on YouTube. Someone took it down right after I took Allied Universal Security and Valley Metro to court.

Did I mention that the judicial system here is corrupt as fuck. I would have won that case had the judge and court clerks not told a blatant lie and stated they hadn't received documents from me that were sent registered and they signed for. The cards were posted on social media. So l started looking into these security companies. Most are owned or run by washed up cops trying to relive their good years thru whomever they can fine to fill the uniform.

So, now the word is out that I went after Valley Metro and light rail security. The train operators chimed in. They have this thing they do, slamming on their brakes to try and tip me over. One actually did. You think she gave a flying fuck. Yeah, it was a she.... and she off the train she was operating one day to come into the restroom at TTC aka Veterans Way, just to try to intimidate me because I'm called her out on social media. Yup, train security told her I was in there. Smile in your face House N......s!

So, security started hanging out at Veterans Way and hob knobing with Tempe police. So, Tempe chime in! So, I have Mesa Tempe and Phoenix police up my ass. Intimidation, harassment, the whole nine yards. So, they decide they're going to bully me, and make me move from this spot. So, if course security people have to all stick toget1her. The motherfucking security around here started in on me. There's a video on my YouTube channel where they set up this scenario of this bastard beating on my enclosure. Then calling the police. An "a" for effort. So, I'm dealing with police and security. Here comes all the male homeless in from the train fucking with me at night. Trying to get a free ride. Then their favourite thing to do was put the screaming crazy homeless off the train in the middle of nowhere. There's no other form of transportation, so even on the hottest days of the summer. This is they're favorite dumping spot. And they sit out here and scream all night.

Oh last evening though, for some odd ass reason..... they called the Crisis Unit for someone at this station. Im detecting a little CYA. See, the streets talk. Niggas won't say shit to me. (These folks here, if George Floyd had been murdered here. He'd be just another dead nigger. I believe that with all my heart and soul.) But they say deliberate things around me. I see movement that corresponds with what I hear. They plan on trying to cage me for lack of control. So, it would behove them to make past encounters seem more like unproven accusations. Squeaky clean in appearance.

So, it's late, and they're probably quiet awaiting this. Plus I'm tired! I'll finish it tomorrow. Why they're so eager to throw my ass back into a cage.