#my man stopped hundreds of bullets from killing his siblings

[myheadphonesareneverloudenough]

bitches will be so obsessed with Diego Hargreeves that they’ll routinely rewatch episode 02x10, and then proceed to rant about how under appreciated Diego’s abilities are.

It’s me, i’m bitches.

#my man stopped hundreds of bullets from killing his siblings #where tf is his recognition #the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #tua #umbrella academy season 2 #tua diego

[five-rivers]

Loved Chapter 5

Sort of wanted to do something more elaborate with this, but it just wasn't happening. Meh.

.

“But you aren’t really real, are you?”

Tucker’s question killed the mood fast than a bullet. Danny and Sam stared at him from their side of the blanket nest.

“You want to rephrase that?” asked Sam, glaring, arms crossed.

“Uh,” said Tucker, sweat starting to form on his upper lip. “I mean, clearly you’re real, just… maybe not entirely physical? You, it’s,” he made a sort of twisting gesture with one of his hands. “People who aren’t from here can’t see you. They can’t even touch you. That sort of implies that you’re not on the same level of reality as them.” He shrugged. “You call the other place the Dream, right? Maybe you’re in, like, a kind of daydream or something.”

Danny twisted a corner of a blanket in his hands. “No,” he said.

“Danny,” started Tucker.

“No,” repeated Danny. “I can’t—” He noticed he was breathing heavily, his eyes unfocused enough that he could see—No. “Tucker, I don’t—I don’t think I even have free will anymore.” No matter how much he Loved Clockwork and craved Love in return, no matter how glad he was that the dark future would never come to pass, that grated at times. “I need—” He gulped air.

(Before, if he was this panicked, his heart would be thundering in his chest. Now, it was far too quiet.)

Sam put a hand on his back, steadying. Tucker reached out, too, but hesitated, unsure.

“I need to be real,” he said. He needed to still exist, still be human, at least in part. He couldn’t lose that, too. No matter what else he might gain.

“You are real,” said Tucker. “I’m sorry, I—” He cursed lightly under his breath, “—I wasn’t thinking. It’s just… Maybe something you should think about. Maybe—Maybe you aren’t coming completely out of… I don’t know. Wherever you go.”

“Maybe,” said Danny, struggling to get his breathing back under control. “Maybe. I just. Not right now.”

“Okay,” said Tucker. “Yeah. What were we talking about before?”

“Who cares?” asked Sam. “Let’s watch a movie.”

“That sounds good,” said Danny.

.

Danny woke up first the next morning, which was somewhat unusual. Sam was definitely a night-owl, but Tucker woke up fairly early. He stepped over them, feet silent on the floor. Almost as if they weren’t really there.

He shook his head. Not now.

He went to the bathroom and took care of things slowly, deliberately, as if to impress upon his body that he was human.

Sam and Tucker still weren’t awake when he came back. Also, when he thought about it, the rest of the house was eerily silent as well.

No… There was music. Was that coming from outside? He closed his eyes to listen better and caught himself drifting off while standing.

That was abnormal. He knelt and shook Sam and Tucker’s shoulders. They didn’t stir.

Someone was here. And they were here without Danny knowing. That was bad. That was really bad.

He went to his parents’ room. They were asleep, too.

There was a nonzero possibility that he was the only one awake. (Assuming he had ever been awake in the first place and not, as Tucker put it, daydreaming.)

He went out, following the music. Music suggested Ember, but this didn’t seem to be her style. She preferred motion, energy, vibrance. This was quieter, subtler.

Then again, none of the others made sense.

(At least, Danny liked to pretend they didn’t.)

The music wasn’t louder outside, but it was clearer. The scent of something sweet floated on the air. Something warm. Like honey.

Was something buzzing?

Danny shook his head again, forcing himself back into awareness. Maybe he should try and figure out what was going on from inside the Dream. It wasn’t possible to fall asleep there. At least, Danny never had.

(Assuming he wasn’t always partially in the Dream, like Tucker said.)

On the other hand, it often helped to observe what was going on in the real world, on the surface of things, before diving. As messy as fights could be in the real world, winning them in the Dream was harder.

He forged on, periodically pinching himself. He wasn’t the only one on the streets, but he was the only one on the streets that wasn’t passed out. It looked like there had been some car crashes.

That’s when he saw her.

She stood in the middle of an intersection, looking away from him. She was built like a centaur, except the lower part of her body more closely resembled a massive deer than a horse. An elk, perhaps. Both her deer-portion and her human-portion had night-black skin, studded with white stars. Antlers curved and branched above her curly hair. A crown of red flowers sat on her head. She wore no other clothes.

Danny did not notice any of this at first. No, what first jumped out at him was the unmistakable chain of Love binding him to her and vice versa.

He’d never met anyone like this, so—

She turned to face Danny. But she didn’t have a face. She had a mask. A well-made mask that had both eye-holes and a mouth with lips that seemed to curve. It was also covered with pulsing, swirling, hypnotic patterns. Black and white chased each other across the mask, not respecting the mask’s physical curves.

Danny could feel his mind start to go fuzzy. Felt the ground go soft under him as he sank into the Dream. A distant part of him wanted to look away, but the rest of him could only blink slowly, captivated.

“Come,” she said in a fascinating combination of an out-loud voice and a True Voice, tugging lightly on the chain that attached Danny to her.

Danny complied, trotting out into the intersection. When he was most of the way there, she turned away again.

“Follow,” she ordered.

Danny did, vaguely noting how rapidly the sidewalks and concrete buildings of Amity Park flowed into smoothly rolling hills covered in grass and flowers. The air grew heavier. Hotter. The perfume of the flowers combined with the buzzing of the bees and the gentle music served to make Danny even drowsier than before.

Still, he could hardly nod off in this situation, walking behind her, Love connecting them.

Sluggishly, belatedly, a name came to mind. “Nocturne,” he said. The name tasted like milk and honey, like chamomile tea, like sleep. She stopped and inclined her head slightly towards him. “You’re different from before.”

“We haven’t met,” she said. Then she turned more fully, the lips on her mask curving into a smile. “Has our parent been showing you Dreams of me? Perhaps I looked more like this.” She changed, her body warping before Danny’s eyes to become an impossibly tall man completely covered in starry black robes. Except, of course, for his mask and curved, ram-like horns. “This is as good a place as any, I suppose.”

Danny nodded, not quite sure what he was agreeing to, and looked around. Amity Park was nowhere in sight. The hills were a little lumpy, as if the grass and moss were growing over oddly shaped rocks.

“Let’s sit,” said Nocturn, lowering himself elegantly to the ground.

Danny followed, movements clumsy and blurred by sleep. He blinked, and found his hands occupied by a large mug. He looked up at Nocturne. Had he given this to Danny, or…?

Nocturne smiled. Danny looked away, not feeling like getting caught in the hypnotic swirls of his mask again. There was something off about those rocks under the grass. Something about their shape…

Then he saw it and inhaled sharply through his teeth.

Bodies. They were bodies. Still breathing, but…

He looked back at Nocturne. He’d known Nocturne was being too nice to him. He was new to being other, but not new to being a younger sibling. Older siblings only acted like this when they had set up everything in their favor. When they wanted something.

Even knowing this, he struggled to keep his eyes open. Could he fall asleep in the Dream?

“What are you doing to them?” he asked. “How do I wake them up.”

Nocturne hummed. “I have an idea. Play a game with me, sibling, and I’ll tell you.”

“What kind of game?”

“You ask me a question, and for every answer I give you, I get something from you.”

“Like, an answer from me,” said Danny, trying to clarify his position, “or something else?”

Nocturne’s smile showed teeth.

“If I play this game,” said Danny, “I have to be able to say when it ends.” He didn’t want to be dancing around conversational pitfalls every time he interacted with Nocturne, after all. They were siblings.

(And though Love was not trust, it was Love. And Love was undeniable.)

“Of course,” agreed Nocturne, easily.

“Alright, then,” said Danny. He adjusted his grip on the mug.

The grass was crawling. He blinked, hard, and shook his head, dislodging two bees that had landed on his ear.

“How do I wake them up?” he asked.

“You can’t,” said Nocturne.

Danny paused, waiting for Nocturne to take what he wanted.

“You have other questions.”

“Aren’t you going to take something from me, for the question?”

“Yes, I am.”

Danny pursed his lips, realizing he had just wasted a question.

“If I can’t wake them, who or what can?”

“I could. Or they could wake themselves.”

Danny mulled over what that could mean. He had no idea where to start with the second part, but the first…

“What would I have to do, to get you to wake them?”

“You—”

The chain around Danny’s neck went taut, pulling him through the fabric of the Dream at breakneck speeds. He was in Clockwork, his sibling behind him.

You must not bully your sibling, my dear. I have enough love for both of you. You do not need to be jealous.

Danny swayed. Now that so much of the tension between him and Nocturne was gone, he was no longer able to use it to support his wakefulness.

Drink your milk, little Love. You’ll be able to find your friends.

Danny nodded sleepily and tipped the mug back. He didn’t remember what happened after that.

.

“Hundreds of Amity Park citizens are still in comas as health officials race to find the cause of the mysterious event. Some say that gas leaks are to…”

Danny tuned out the TV and glared at his cereal. He knew he had fallen asleep in the Dream and had done something, but the memory was beyond him. Maybe whatever it had been was beyond an even partially human mind.

Or whatever kind of mind Danny had.

His fingers twitched. He was going to go down again later today, to see if Clockwork would help him find everyone else. If they could be found at all. He didn’t want to. He was angry. Angry that this had happened, that it was still happening. Amity Park was his, and Nocturne had no right to try and steal and break and—

The terrible part, was that even though he was angry, his general desire to reach out to Nocturne, to lean on their Love… That had not diminished.

He looked forward to seeing them again.

The news continued to talk about the coma victims.

#danny phantom #eldritch abomination au #dannymay #dannymay day 13: daydream #dannymay 2021

[natewrightt]

hiiii, can you do the Five x deaf!reader where Lila threatens to kill the reader when she realize that Five killed her parents?????

Summary: Lila and The Handler figure out Five’s only weakness; the girl he loves the most.

Ship: Five Hargreeves x deaf!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, Lila being a bitch, death, violence

Note: it concerns me how much you guys like my writing so here ya go!!!! 🤠

——————————————————————————

“Sissy!” Vanya yelled, running to hug the woman. The rest of the Hargreeves siblings and Y/N came up behind her. “These are my brothers and sisters.”

Y/N smiled. She was glad to be accepted into the family.

“Look, I gave those powers to Harlan. I’m the only one who can help him.” She explained softly. Sissy nodded her head before letting the 8 of them into the barn to see a little boy floating with a blue circle of energy surrounding him. He was scared.

“Poor kid.” Y/N breathed, watching as Vanya tried to go into his little nest he had made for himself. Eventually, she just had to use her powers which was working. That was, until Klaus called everyone over to another door of the room.

And there was the Handler and Lila.

“Okay guys, stay here. Me and Y/N will go see what they want.” Five instructed, but was quickly interrupted when Diego volunteered to go with him. When he realized his brother wouldn’t take no for an answer, he caved.

“Ah! Hello Five. Diego.” The Handler spoke before turning to the girl. “Y/N! Didnt expect to see you here! How are you?”

“Terrible.” Y/N plastered a fake smile on her face.

“What are you doing here?” Five interrupts when Y/N looks 10 seconds away from cracking her skull open.

——————————————————————————

“Yeah, well, it’s 3 to 2. You lose.” Diego sneers. The Handler chuckles.

“You sure about that?” She asks, before a bunch of people from the commission teleport from behind them. A bunch turns into a hundred, and a hundred turns into a few thousand. The three of them gulp, watching as it increases by every passing second.

Y/N’s grip tightens on Five’s hand as he speaks. “Diego?”

“Yeah?”

“RUN!” He yells, and the gunshots start. The other siblings notice and they quickly scatter away, trying their best to avoid getting shot. Five grabs onto the 2 of them and teleports behind a tractor where they can dodge the bullets. He attempts to teleport again, but fails.

“What’s wrong?!” Diego asks frantically.

“It’s not working. I need more energy.” Five explains weakly.

“Fuck me.” Y/N groans, covering her hands with her face. He smirks at her.

“Well, as much as I would love too, we’re about to die.”

She turns to him before smacking his head. Suddenly, a light source from the barn interrupts them. “Look, it’s Vanya!”

The siblings all take cover, Five wrapping his arms around Y/N while she tucked her head into his shoulder. A blast comes from Vanya causing all of the armed men to die.

However, it seemed that Lila and The Handler were safe.

Lila sensed a blast back, causing Vanya to crash onto the outside wall of the barn. Y/N hissed. That looked really painful.

——————————————-————————————

“How did she do that?!” Y/N whispered in panic as Five teleported them inside of Sissy’s house. He shrugged, trying to hide them. However, the weight of Luther caused bricks to fall on Five. The two gasped, trying to dig him up. All of a sudden, Lila teleported in front of them.

“How did you do that?” Luther asked, petrified. She laughed before kicking him out, leaving just her and Y/N.

“Where’s your husband?” She seethed, getting closer to her. Y/N gulped, attempting to show some pride.

“I-I don’t know.” Y/N stuttered out finally. Lila scoffed, throwing a painful punch to her cheek before moving along trying to find Five.

Once she was out of sight, the girl quickly dug up the bricks to retrieve Five. He coughed, brushing himself off before turning to Y/N.

“What happened?” He asked, running his thumb over her bleeding cheek.

“I’m fine, Five. You’re the one who literally just got crushed.” She jokes before pecking him quickly and running to help Diego.

The other siblings were there, just as confused as she was. They all talked it over before Klaus quickly had a realization. She was one of them.

“Wait, not biological, right?” Diego asks. They all give him a look before continuing.

“Where’s Five?” Luther asks Y/N. She turns to where she saw him last, but he was gone. They all turned to each other before dashing into the barn to see Lila choking Five with her foot.

As soon as she noticed Y/N though, Lila let go of Five and immediately put a knife to her neck.

“One move and she dies.” Lila hisses.

“Lila....” Diego warned, trying to get closer to her. He stopped when a tiny yelp was heard from the girl as she pressed it into her delicate skin harder.

It was silent.

“You will pay for what you did.” She whispered, tears starting to go into her eyes.

“She wasn’t there! She had nothing to do with this!” Five yelled. This only made Lila more upset, as they all could see some blood starting to drip down.

“Lila...let her go.” Diego instructed softly.

“NO!” She yelled. “He will pay for what he did! They were innocent people!”

As Diego tried to talk her out of it, Y/N tried not to let out a large whine as she could feel the blade coming in contact with her skin. Five looked at her with pure fear in his eyes. They made eye contact, and he gestured to twist her arm with his hands. She nodded, doing so.

“Ah! Son of a bitch!” Lila screeched. Unfortunately, this wasn’t enough to make her let go. Eventually she had enough, slicing a cut into her throat. Y/N coughed out blood, scaring the others.

“Lila...you were born on October 1st, 1989.”

“No.” She whispered.

“The Handler isn’t your mother. She didn’t care about you, she never did. We can be your family now. Just...please let her go.”

“NO!” Lila screamed, having enough. She turned to Y/N, sucked in a breath and cut into her neck fully. The rest of them gasped.

“Y/N!” Five yelled as he watched the only person he ever loved fall to the floor dead.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have time to say anything else before the Handler came into the room and shot all of them, excluding Lila.

“Hey! You did it!” she praised, looking over at the girls dead body. “You know, for someone who can’t hear, she sure had quite the attitude.”

“It’s true what Five said, isn’t it?” Lila asked, throwing the knife down. They looked at each other for a moment before she sighed.

The Handler didn’t have time to respond before one of the ex-commision member barged in, shooting them both.

By the noise, Five opened his eyes slowly, ignoring the pain in his lower abdomen. He stayed as still as he can, the memories flashing back into his head. Tears threaten into his eyes as he takes a look at his dead wife beside Lila before grunting and using what was left of his energy to go back a few seconds in time.

“Lila, you were born on October 1st, 1989.” Diego explained softly. Five took a breath, looking back at his now-alive wife with her closed eyes and clenched jaw. She was now able to avoid getting stabbed in the neck as the Handler came into the room, distracting Lila from what she was about to do.

“It’s true what Five said, isn’t it?” She asked, letting go of the knife that was on Y/N’s neck. The girl took a huge breath in and out before running to Five and engulfing him in a hug. As soon as he wrapped his arms around her, the same ex-commission member came in, shooting the Handler dead.

He aimed his gun at Five, but Five dropped the gun down, raising his arms. “Enough.”

Soon enough, the other man did the same and walked away, leaving them all be.

It was time to go home once and for all.

——————————————————————————

this was kinda sad and I’m sorry JSJSJSHHSBS

#tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeve x reader #five hargreeves x y #five hargreeves x y/n #five hargreeves x you #number five x y/n #number five x reader #number five x you #number five x y

[paperpocalypse]

red.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 20. Washing their back/hair in the shower.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader 

Word Count: 1,662 words

Warning: Implied/referenced murder

[A/N: No shower, just sticking Five’s head underneath a sink faucet. Also Villain!AU :)]

It really was too bad.

You had liked Elliott – honestly, you did, and you don’t like a lot of people. Sure, he was ridiculously paranoid, and his Jell-O molds boasted flavors that could alter the timeline all by themselves. But he had been a nice man, a harmless man, and you don’t like killing nice, harmless men unless you have to. Personally, anyway.

If only he had been cooperative for a few more hours …!

“What a shame,” you murmur, tucking the last corner of the blanket underneath his head. At least taking a bullet to the heart was almost as quick as being incinerated by a nuclear missile. Somewhat. In any case, you think to yourself as you stand up, he’s as good as gone; Diego and Luther will probably want to bury him once they get back. Societal convention, and all that.

“Anybody still here?”

(Speak of the devils and they will appear –)

“In here,” you call out, smoothing out your clothes and hurrying into the kitchen before the two brothers – mainly Diego – can make their own conclusions about the living room. As expected, they greet you with suspicious frowns as you come to a stop in front of them.

“What’s going on?” Diego demands.

“Hello to you, too,” you reply lightly. The man only narrows his eyes, and you scratch the back of your head, absently wondering if he does, in fact, like you enough not to turn you into a knife block. “So … things got a bit out of hand with Elliott while you guys were out.”

“What do you mean?” Luther asks.

You shrug. “I had no choice.”

“No choice?”

Diego’s jaw clenches, and he pushes past you towards the living room. “What did you do to him?”

“What he would’ve done to me if I hadn’t shot him first,” you reply evenly. You linger on the boundary between the kitchen and the living room, staying a respectful distance away as they stare down at the covered body. “If it makes it any better, it was quick. I didn’t torture him or anything like that. Not that I know how to.”

“Lucky for him,” Diego retorts. Nevertheless, his expression is calmer that you thought it’d be, and it puts you less on edge. It’s obvious that he’s still upset about it, however. “At least he didn’t suffer too much.”

“Yeah. He didn’t have much time left, anyway.”

The two brothers nod reluctantly, glancing at each other and then down at the body. You cross your arms, fingers brushing the hand-sized weapon just above your hip as Diego turns and bumps past you towards the door again. Probably to find a shovel. Luther, the big old softie, lifts Elliott from the red-leather sofa where you had wrapped him up.

He moves toward the front door as well but stops in front of you, uncertain. “You wanna …?” he starts, motioning the body towards you slightly.

You shake your head. “You two should do it. I already did my part.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I know you got along with him pretty well, and –”

You cut his rambling off with a pat to the back, ushering him along – if you look at the Elliott-shaped cargo in his arms any longer, you might actually start feeling guilty. “I’m one hundred percent positive. Just hurry up, yeah?”

He blinks down at you, then nods. “Okay. Just – come down if you change your mind.”

“Sure thing.”

With that, the hulk of a man wanders away with Elliott, and you walk over to the now vacant couch. Sitting down, you press your palms down into the leather. Is it still slightly warm? You resist the thought of standing back up and lean into the backrest instead. Jesus, you’re getting soft. He was expendable. There’s a thousand more Elliotts out there in a thousand more timelines, anyway.

Inhaling deeply, you take your pistol out. The barrel has, of course, cooled down by now, and you inspect it with careful fingers. But before you can take aim at one of the UFOs tacked onto the far wall, you hear a sound downstairs.

“Five?”

His footsteps are nimbler than usual as he climbs up the stairs. You put the pistol down and push yourself out of your seat, blinking in surprise as the teenage, bloodstained face of your partner comes into view. Everything about him is bloodstained, actually.

Save for the black suitcase gripped like a lifeline in his hand.

“So that’s where you disappeared to?” you exclaim, immediately taking the suitcase from Five and placing it on the coffee table as you shepherd him to the bathroom. “A killing spree without me? I had to settle for the conspiracy man.”

“You did it already?”

“It was in self-defense.”

Five scoffs lightly, shedding his jacket and leaving it on a chair as the two of you walk through the kitchen. “I’m sure it was.”

“It’s true! I mean –” pushing the bathroom door open, you consider, “fine, I got a little stir crazy while everyone was gone. But I didn’t think he’d pull the rifle on me.” You turn on the sink and feel the water run through your fingers, cold and then warm. Perfect. “But enough about me. Whose blood did you bathe in?”

Five loosens his tie. “The board’s,” he tells you.

He keeps his expression professional, but there’s no mistaking the pride just begging to surface in his tone. You raise an eyebrow and hum, tugging him closer to the sink by his tie.

“Impressive. But there’s more, isn’t there?” you guess, trying not to sound like an eager child. Your eyes rove over his profile. “Here, let me wash your hair. It’s getting crusty.”

He rolls his eyes but leans over the sink nevertheless, grunting a bit when you push his head underneath the faucet. Pink water streams down onto the white porcelain and into the drain. As you lather up a bar of soap and begin scrubbing his hair, he speaks, his voice somewhat muffled by the lip of the sink. “I offed the Handler, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A grin spreads across your face. You rinse the last of the bubbles from Five’s hair. “It was.”

“You sound happy.”

“I’m ecstatic.” Running your fingers over his hair one last time, you force your hand off to grab a towel. “Almost everything’s in place now, isn’t it?”

“All there’s left to do is reset the suitcase, have Vanya blow up something next to JFK, and then all of us can head to Commission headquarters.” Removing his head from underneath the faucet, Five holds out a hand and you place the towel in it. “Smooth sailing from there.”

“Well, I do love a good boat ride.”

He huffs out a chuckle as he finishes drying his hair, running the towel under the water again. Your heart turns soft and goopy when his eyes dart to meet yours knowingly, just for a split second, before he wrings the towel out to wipe the blood from his face.

It’s a moment you’d like to savor a little longer, but the image of the suitcase in the living room inevitably shakes you out of it.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it while I work on resetting the suitcase,” you tell him. “Shouldn’t take too long – ten minutes or so. I hope all of your siblings are back by then.”

“Highly doubt it,” you hear him mutter as you head out the door, and you don’t bother to hide a snort. Each one of the Hargreeves – Five included, even though he often acts like he’s above it – has a fondness for wreaking their own special kind of havoc on each timeline. Might as well have some fun before pulling the plug on humanity, after all. Burn your name into the book before it closes.

You slip into Elliott’s bedroom to grab a hangar, then head over to the living room. The suitcase sits innocently where you had left it; you carefully undo the latches and open the case just enough to sneak the hook in. Each one of this particular model has a sweet spot – and you could find it in your sleep. You had helped design the damn thing, after all. Not that your contributions were ever appreciated.

No, Dr. Geraldine Tynnsdale had to be a “true kindred spirit with the vision of the Commission” for the past twenty-five years.

Taking credit for everything.

After some careful prodding, you feel a satisfying click.

“There we go,” you praise the suitcase, withdrawing the hangar and popping the lid open. A sense of adoration fills your chest, replacing your feelings of malice as you stare at the familiar array of knobs and buttons. Beautiful. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

Just as you thought, it takes less than ten minutes to get everything in order. The bathroom door unlocks just as you finish inputting the coordinates for headquarters, and you look up at Five (who’s now sporting a freshly cleaned uniform, at least for the visible bloodstains) with a self-satisfied smile as he approaches the sofa. Overwhelming pride for a job well done fills your bones; you had missed your projects dearly these past two weeks.

“Ready?” He tilts his head contentedly, hands in his pockets.

“Ready,” you echo, standing up. “I suppose we’ll have to round up your siblings now.”

The flat look on Five’s face makes you snort again, and you pick up the suitcase while placing your other hand in the crook of his elbow, escorting the two of you towards the back door where Luther and Diego had gone. 

Soon, you think, you’ll be free. Free to do whatever you like, make whatever you like, with Five at your side and no one to answer to but yourself. 

A smile graces your face as you squeeze Five’s arm. Whoever said that happy endings don’t exist for people like you?

#wordless ways to say i love you #source: @50-item-writing-prompts #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy five #the umbrella academy #tua #five x reader #five imagine #tua fanfic #fanfic #reader insert #fluff #villain!tua #they jump from timeline to timeline to cause apocalypses as a family #on purpose this time lol #fun stuff :)

[thisisawonderfulusername]

carry me

diego hargreeves x reader

requested: anon

summary: diego has been dating the person who teaches karate down the street for a while. after meeting the family at reginald’s funeral, they end up helping to stop the end of the world... twice.

trigger warnings: cursing, unedited

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i’m so sorry to anon that this took so long to come out, i’ve been in and out of writing and i was busy so it was sitting in my drafts, half finished for a while lmao. but here it is! i hope it was worth the wait. i wasn’t able to fit everything that you wanted in, but i got the basics lol.

you take slow steps around the room, watching as your most advanced students spar, taking hits from their opponents that land on the padded gear they wore with loud thuds. this was something you watched every day, but these students were your favorite because they were never afraid to give or take a packed punch.

there’s a tap at the window that forms the wall to your left, but you ignore it, assuming it to be a bird or something that hit the glass. when it returns, this time much more insistent on getting someone’s attention, you turn your head to look and you see diego standing outside of the dojo. sighing softly, you look towards your assistant, “i have to attend to something, take over for a few.”

as the slightly younger man nods, you exit the room and make your way out of the building after slipping your shoes on, rounding to where your boyfriend waits. “i hope this is important.” you tell him with a small grin, “i don’t leave my students for just anything, you know.” he doesn’t smile or anything, his face set into hard stone, and your eyebrows furrow. “is everything okay?”

“my dad died.” he tells you simply, and your lips part in surprise, stepping towards him, ready to comfort him, but he shakes his head. “i don’t care about him. it’s the funeral that i care about. i’m only going to see pogo and grace, but my family will be there and i don’t know if i can tolerate them alone.”

you glance through the window at your students, “are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

he nods, “if what you’re thinking is that i want you to come with me, then yes, i am.”

you purse your lips, taking a deep breath as you think it over for a moment. “when?” you question, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

“uh... now?”

you’re too surprised to think for a moment, just gaping at him at the suddenness of it all. after a few seconds, you regain yourself, shaking your head, “right now? you’re serious?”

diego gives another slow nod, looking at you like a lost puppy. you sigh heavily, looking away from him into the dojo, before running your fingers through your hair. “alright.” he smiles at that, and you hold a finger up, “let me send out a few emails. i can’t just dip out without an explanation.”

-

when you met his family, they loved you, much to his annoyance. that week was a crazy one, and you ended up having to help save the world- which didn’t work at all.

and then you landed in dallas, texas, in the year 1963, only a few weeks after diego did. when you found the newspaper that told you where you were, it also gave you some very interesting information on what your boyfriend had been up to when he landed before you.

that’s how you ended up at the mental institution that he was being held, watching as he was escorted into the small visiting room. the smile on his face when he saw you was contagious, though you tried to hold yours back.

“hargreeves, what the hell did you do?” you question with a chuckle as the guards moved to stand nearby, ready to step in if anything happened. too bad they wouldn’t be able to stop what you had planned. there were only two of them. really, a mistake on their part.

taking your hands as he sat down, the man leaned forward onto the table. his hair had grown out a lot since he had gotten here, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t think that he looked good. “i missed you.” he doesn’t answer your question, and you roll your eyes, raising your eyebrow to get him to tell you. “okay, i’m going to save the president. and you’re going to help.”

your lips part for a second, and when you have fully processed what he said, you let out a bewildered laugh. “no,” you tell him, “no i’m not. you’re not going to do that.”

his eyebrows furrow in confusion and you can tell that he had gone a little crazy in his time here. “why not?”

shaking your head, you run your thumb over his knuckles. “because, that’s just a stupid idea.” you grin as you watch him deflate slightly, “do you have any idea how that would change the timeline? it’s going to change everything, and if five ever finds us, he’ll kill you for it.”

when he doesn’t say anything, almost seeming like a toddler with how he looked at you, you sigh, leaning forward slightly. “but i’ll tell you what we are doing,” you start, the volume of your voice dropping, “we’re getting you out of here.”

the smile comes back, and he leans towards you, sneaking in a quick kiss. “i’ll get the one at the door.” he whispers, and you nod, already bracing yourself for the fight ahead of you. “on three.”

“one... two... three!” with the raise in your voice, you jump up from where you sit, and so does diego, jumping the guard at the door before he can even realize what’s going on.

you managed to barrel over the table and get your guard, landing a kick right in his chest that knocks him back into the wall behind him. the impact doesn’t allow him to recover in enough time to fight back, and with a punch to the face (one that had definitely broken his nose), he was out like a light, slumping to the ground.

turning, you see that diego had no trouble getting the other guy, and just as you were about to leave the room, you’re surprised by the sudden appearance of a red light that flashes in time with the alarm ringing through the place.

“let’s get the hell out of here before we’re both stuck in here.” you grab his arm, beginning to run down the hall towards what you hope is an exit, and not a dead end that lead to guard detaining you.

as you run, diego keeps a good hold on your hand. “you know,” he breathes, looking behind the two of you to be sure nobody was following, “it’s hot when you fight like that.”

you can’t help but laugh, but shake your head. “we don’t have time for your flirting, diego.” you tell him, taking a sharp turn down another hall. you suddenly stop when you come face to face with another woman, diego nearly bumping into your back but stopping just in time.

“i knew you were crazy enough to plot an escape.” the woman chuckles, and you’re surprised that she knows him.

you look to him in silent question, and he lets out a breath. “no time. we’re still in a pit of guards, if you’ve forgotten.” he’s already beginning to move forward, “let’s go!”

with his shout, you’re running again, the woman right beside you. you’re not sure who she is, but introductions can be made later, when you’re not in danger of being locked up.

-

you had really thought that she was an okay person. diego seemed to like her enough to keep her around, and she seemed harmless (other than her knowledge in combat).

yet there she was, standing in the middle of the empty field ahead of you, the handler at her side. five and diego had gone out to meet them and see what they wanted while you, klaus, allison, and luther stood near the barn in the snow, squinting to try and get a peek at what was happening.

you didn’t get much time to wonder, however, because with blue flashes- literally everywhere- people started popping up all around them, equipped with briefcases and a gun.

“oh, my god.” you hear luther breathe out from next to you, the four of you looking out as they continue to pop up. they filled the field behind lila and the handler, and you began to realize what this was.

“this can’t be good.” you mumble, your heart beginning to race.

sure, you could fight. you had trained in karate since you were seven, but that didn’t seem to be of much importance right now, when they were all pointing guns at you and you had nothing to protect yourself with.

in the distance, you see the woman pulling something out of the pocket of her jacket as the two boys begin to turn and run, causing the rest of you to do the same.

the next thing you know, you can hear the pounding of hundreds of feet against the frosted ground, too caught up in trying to save your ass to look back and see everything. you just hoped that diego was okay.

then, the gun shots begin. all around you, bullets crashed into the ground as you ran for cover, and just as you were about to dive behind carts of hay with the other three, you feel the sharp stinging pain in your leg. you fall to the ground just behind the hay, and when you look down to see what the pain was, the snow is stained with your blood.

breath becoming shallow, your eyes widen at the sight. “fuck,” you breathe shakily, hands waving wildly in the air as you try to think of what to do, “what the fuck.”

you’re too busy worrying about the blood pouring out of your thigh to see what everyone else sees- vanya floating in the air, a white glow surrounding her- until the fire raining down on you ceases.

you look up from the red snow, shifting your body to look past the side of the cart while the others stood to look, seeing lila beginning to do the same as vanya had done.

allison, klaus, and luther begin to run- apparently not taking notice of your situation- just as the force from the power begins to move over the field, and you try to push away from it before it can get to you, but you’re too late. the cart is knocked over by the force, trapping you under it as you hit your head against the ground, effectively being knocked out.

-

“where’s y/n?” diego questions the moment he’s on his feet, looking around at all of his siblings who had helped him get out from under the tractor that had trapped his leg.

the three that had been with you look to each other, silently asking if you had been with them, and when nobody seems to say anything about it, klaus looks to the cart that they had left you at. “last time i saw her...” he says, pointing towards where you were trapped.

the man’s eyebrows furrow as he immediately turns on his heel to run to the cart, seeing the blood when he gets to it and quickly dropping to the ground beside your unconscious body. everyone else had followed and when they saw the sight, luther jumped to lift the hay that trapped you as diego pulled you out.

“god, no!” he pants, looking to your leg that had slowed down a bit in it’s bleeding, his eyes widening as he quickly checks for your pulse. he lets out a relieved sigh when you’re alive, looking to the others. “i’ll take care of her,” he tells them with a nod, “go find five, get rid of lila.”

they all split away from the two of you with the command, going to defeat the enemy that is the crazy lady you had met at the asylum.

-

she had been dealt with. mostly. the handler was dead and lila had disappeared with the suitcase she arrived with, off to who knows where to do who knows what.

you shoot up from the ground when you wake up, groaning from the pain the shot up your leg. “ah, shit!”

diego quickly looks up when he hears you, “oh, thank god you’re up.” he lets out a huff of breath, shaking his head. “how did this happen?” he questions, motioning to your thigh, where a piece of your shirt had been wrapped around the wound, already bleeding through.

“well, i got shot.” you state the obvious, picking at the shirt and gritting your teeth as you feel the pain.

he breathes in sharply, “okay, you’ll be okay.” he nods, and you think he may be telling that to himself rather than you. “we took care of lila and the handler-”

“i really thought she would be an alright person,” you shake your head as you prepare yourself to stand up, but diego quickly stops you.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea.” he warns, his hand held up to keep you from doing it, “i’ll just... carry you.”

you grin at the proposition. “a real knight in shining armor.” you chuckle, “i guess i’ll allow it.”

“yeah, yeah.” he smiles as he loops his arm under your knees, careful to not move your thigh too much to avoid pain, before putting the other on your back. you put an arm around his shoulder, and he lifts you slowly, trying his hardest not to hurt you.

you squeeze your eyes shut at the pain that courses through your leg, but you try to tough it out. “did five find a way to get back home?” you question, opening your eyes to look up at him.

“yeah,” he tells you, “we had an array of briefcases to choose from.” he chuckles, bringing you around the front of the house. “grace will be able to fix you up.”

“oh, thank god.” you giggle, “i thought i’d need you to carry me around everywhere.” you joke, curling a piece of his hair around your finger. “i wouldn’t mind it, though.”

“neither would i.”

-

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar @malfovs​

diego hargreeves: none yet

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #diego hargreeves #diego #number two #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #diego x reader #number two x reader

[imaginesbymk]

“Sweet as Cherry Pie.”

Peaky Blinders One Shot

Summary: Y/n is Alfie Solomons’ younger sister who comes to Camden town & Small Heath. Why? She’s their secret weapon: sassy, unpredictable and insults their enemies to filth. Or maybe she’s just bored and needed the first enemy she sees to throw a comment at. Either way, Alfie couldn’t ask for a better sister.

Pairing: ---

Tags: swearing, mentions of violence, weapons, drug & alcohol use, smoking + s4 spoilers

Word Count: 1755 words

Author’s Note: sksmsksks this is based off a dream i had one night. it isn’t the best piece i’ve written but i love a sassy reader. one shots are not open, this is just a one shot for my 800 follower special - [milestone masterlist]

“GOOD MORNING, Alfie.” Tommy said, walking down the distillery. Well, it wasn’t that much of a good morning for Tommy, really. In fact, even though he’s very productive and professional most times, this time the man wished he was back in bed where he could be exposed in his shirtless self, waking up to see his boy with that bright smile, sharing his eyes. 

Normally, he’d be drowning in family meetings back in Small Heath, but the atmosphere in Camden town begged to differ.

“Meh, not really,” Alfie Solomons glances up at the window- the dusty, stained window pane gave in the overcast weather. He turns back to Tommy. “Mate, I’m glad we’re right on schedule. I was starting to think you got shot in your own fucking office chair back home.”

Tommy stared at the Jewish-English man, knowing Alfie was from Camden Town, how outsiders would speak ill of such towns and vice versa.

Alfie shuffles over using his cane as support and hands Tommy the tickets. “Those are the tickets to the boxing match. And in that storage unit behind you is the gateway to the clouds.”

“Kind of you. But you know I have booze at home, stored neatly and safely. I can manage without your rum.” Tommy walked in, anyway.

“I’m not giving you my rum for free, Tommy. I’m not even selling it to you,” Tommy watched as Alfie made his way to the other room of his bakery, ready to check on the AM workers as they got to work right away.

Tommy read the front labels of the bottle he picked up from one of the barrels. This man has gone a long way in his business, he couldn’t deny that. Over a hundred barrels have been shipped to God knows how many speakeasies were in Europe and America, and when Alfie Solomons received his earnings, he holds it tightly and proudly, guarding it as he cherishes his success.

Taking a bottle wouldn’t hurt, it would please him knowing he is interested in buying his product. He could even smell it from the sealed caps. He could smell it from the barrels, residue on the floor, or even from one of the workers’ breaths. He could pop it open and take a quick sniff like playing in snow. Tommy dug in his coat pockets, pulling out a stack.

“Oh, so you are fucking loaded.” Tommy whipped around, his gun already pulled from his holster, gripped and pointed to the voice inches behind him. 

The person- the woman, didn’t react, not a small gasp at the sight of the barrel of the gun nearing her face. Boldly enough, she reached over and grabbed the stack of cash from Tommy’s hand and walked away, not even remotely thinking if the man she startled would pull the trigger with her back turned. 

“Thanks, Mr. Shelby. And Alfie thanks you!” the female voice calls out.

Con artist? Someone posing as a worker? An enemy? Tommy breathed heavily, swearing left and right in his mind that he could of at least stopped whoever that was from taking his money, or yelled at her the way he usually does to anyone who worked for him because he was the boss. He was loaded, but no one would just allow someone to take a loan like that without anything afterwards, unless they were a clerk in a bank robbery.

After feeling like he was glued to the floor in that tiny space, Tommy rushed out to find Alfie back in his office with his glasses on his face, jotting notes down on a piece of paper, noticing the stack of cash sitting near the cup holder.

“Who the fuck just walked inside that storage unit and grabbed the stash right out my fucking hands?”

Tommy’s outburst of his question didn’t send Alfie into a panic. “You mean my dearest sister y/n?” Alfie got up from his seat. “She gave me the cash so I didn’t have to do it, but she didn’t even bid me a goodbye afterwards. She just plopped it on my desk and went her way. It’s not like I died or anything. I’m not fucking invisible, Tommy. You can see me, right?” 

Tommy let out a long sigh, dreading that there’s not one but two migraine-stirring bastards named Solomons, it’s enough for one he already wishes to throw a beer bottle at some times, but now another one probably much worse than if described. “You have a sister, Alfie? You never said anything about having a sister.”

“Yeah. But don’t worry, she’s sweet as cherry pie,” Alfie nods. “I brought her here, but she’s pretty homesick, so I would bid her warm welcomes if I were you.”

“Why should I?” Tommy says, frowning. “She just took my fucking money.”

“Oh, for sure.” Alfie waves the loan in front of Tommy, reminding him that y/n is no thief. “And because she knows about the vendetta between you, the Peakys and the Italians. If they come to her, she’ll roar at them, literally.”

“WHO the fuck is this, now?” Arthur stared at the woman stood next to Tommy at the foot of the small dining room where old memories held of their past meetings and heartbreaks.

“This is Y/n Solomons. She’s our messenger.” Tommy wished he never had to say that. He wished she would stop touching his fucking stuff, too. “Y/n, put down my fucking frame.”

“Oh fuck,” Polly blew out smoke from her cigarette. “There’s two of them?”

“And what is wrong with my brother?” Y/n places the frame back down on the mantel. “He’s a successful businessman. He beat a man three fucking times his size to gravel after he called me fat.”

“Y/n Solomons is our messenger. She’s also helping with updates from Aberama Gold once we get Michael out of Birmingham for now, because Luca Changretta is still out there, and he’s fucking pissed.”

“You can very hot headed sometimes, Mr. Shelby.” Later the brief introduction of their newcomer in their recent meeting was long over, she stayed back even though she was dismissed to do her work. “It’s probably because you smoke so much cigarettes that you’re starting to look like an ashtray, or of that heavy out-dated coat you wear all the time just weighs you down that your back and shoulders must hurt like hell.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Tommy said, irritated by her presence, even her just standing there at the table.

“Nothing.” Y/n sighs and heads out the door. “You know where I’ll be!” she calls.

Sweet as cherry pie, my ass. Tommy grunts and lights a cigarette.

“WHAT’S the matter?” Luca Changretta asks. “I said we had a deal.”

“Ah, you just made a deal without negotiation, now did ya?” Y/n’s brother sat on the chair, staring up at the menacing mobster holding one of the rum bottles given as a gift. “Yeah, Tommy Shelby was right about you. You plan to kill us all.” He spoke in Yiddish, and he mocks a tsking sound.

Luca smirks down, even though he didn’t know what he said, at least they both were aware of one thing; Tommy knows what kind of man I am.

“Mr. Changretta, may I speak freely?” y/n chimes in.

The Italian shrugs. “Mr. Solomons, I checked my calendar earlier and I did not read anything about today being Take Your Kid to Work Day,” and he laughs, his cousin as his henchman behind laughing along with him.

“Mate, I’d choose my next words very carefully if I were you,” Alfie says, stifling a smile. “This is my baby sister you’re talking down to, and she won’t tolerate one bit of it.”

“And I should be afraid?”

“Perhaps less afraid, more self-conscious, Mr. Changretta,” y/n replies. “Just a few minutes ago I was sensing the stench of failure, but then I saw you and your men walk in.”

Luca chuckles sarcastically. “Ouch.”

“And it’s not like we’re having a showdown right here, you didn’t need to bring your men with you unless you’re doubling their pay for just standing silently. I mean, they’re as important as Tommy Shelby’s evening sous chef.”

“Who?” Alfie had to ask.

Y/n smirks. “Exactly. Anyways, I just need to tell you that my brother’s business isn’t for sale. Alfie has worked hard and I’m proud to be his sister, supporting him. I’ll drink his rum like it’s mother’s milk if I had to. So, let my brother handle your men at the match, and you’ll take care of the two hundred barrels to be shipped to New York. Simple.”

“What do you know about business, Miss Solomons?”

“What do you know about combat, Luca? If you didn’t lack the experience, Tommy Shelby’s blood would spill fresh on your hands as we speak. How are you a soldier for the mafia if you hadn’t accomplish the vendetta yet?”

“Well-”

“Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll fall asleep.” Y/n took a step forward, lowering her smile up as his height overpowered hers. “My brother isn’t asking for much. He’s a good friend of Tommy Shelby, yet he’s helping you. You should be kissing his feet, Mr. Changretta, not abusing his generosity.”

Luca chewed the matchstick in his mouth. “Is that so?” he looks back at his men. “Porca puttana.”

“Vaffanculo, right back at you, mate. You just earned yourself another tonne to your bill. Bring tissues for both your lawyer and accountant.” Y/n turns around and grins at her older brother, who smiled warmly at her the entire time, feeling as though he was proud. If the Peaky Blinders were here, they’d share the same reaction as Luca. 

“So you both know Italian?” Luca asked as he sighs in exhaustion.

Alfie nods at Luca, who was glaring down at him for an answer. You learn from your older sibling, you become as tough as bullets and the big help as the messenger, sending a telephone call or a letter mailed to Small Heath, saying Luca Changretta is six feet tall, but shrunk four feet down when y/n opened her mouth. 

“Take it or leave it, Signore.” The Italians didn’t even need to ask where this woman got her attitude from. If you’re a Solomon, there’s perks. Y/n smiles to herself, Tommy is gonna hate and love me.

“I warned you about my baby sister, mate.” Alfie says. “Sweet as cherry pie... but with broken glass once you bite into your first slice.”

—

tag list: @ladyxblake @lotsoffandomimagines @amirahiddleston @thethyri @woahitslucyylu @myriadimagines @fangirlsarah16 @your-pixels-are-showing @lucillethings @sirkekselord @kaetastic

#peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #alfie solomons x sibling!reader #alfie solomons #fem!reader #reader insert #one shot #imagine

[random-imagines-blog]

Disarm {Shadow Moon x Sibling!Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2541 Summary: Wednesday is on a mission to pull you and Shadow apart. Neither you, nor Shadow, or having any of that.

“And that is why I don’t think y/n should come with us, Shadow.” Wednesday seemed to enjoy speaking to your brother as if you weren’t there. As if you weren’t in the booth beside the tall, muscular man who had been your best friend since the day that you had been adopted by his wonderful mother. He had been messing with the climates of your relationship, trying to make things stormy when things were set to be clear. Trying was the key word here. You looked to your brother, and he looked to you, and you knew what he was going to say in response. And you were proud to have such a loyal brother - one who knew that you were better with him than without. One who wasn’t going to leave you at home because you were a ‘weirdo’. A freak. Even the Gods seemed to look at you like that - mainly the old ones. You would think that after hundreds, even thousands of years, there would be nothing that would surprise them. Let alone someone like you, who defined themselves as nonbinary.

“No,” Shadow said with a shrug, completely dismissing everything that Wednesday had said. “I’m not leaving them behind.”

You looked at the old man across from you with a smug expression. You didn’t like him from the start. He had an untrustworthy air. Him and his friends. You thought that Mad Sweeney was a bit funny, and Ostera was a wonderful woman but everyone else, you could take or leave. When he had offered Shadow a job, he took it with a couple of conditions. One of those was that you would accompany him. He had just lost his wife. He wasn’t willing to part with the only other person that he had left. Which was you. And since you had nothing else going on, just a dead-end job in a town that you didn’t care for, you found it easy to pack up and snooze in the back of the car while driving down the dusty highways of the country.

“Now, now, Shadow, don’t be hasty,” The man said, bringing his mug up to his lips. He looked small in that moment, and there was a glint in his eye that you weren’t fond of. This was an old God who was used to getting his way. And for the first time, someone was fighting back. He probably hadn’t expected that someone to be his son.

“I’m not being hasty,” Shadow said, quickly retorting back. “I’ve thought about it, and my answer is fuck you.”

“Shadow...” Wednesday said, a warning in his voice. You leaned forward, grabbing a couple of the sugars out of the little canister, and started to juggle them, getting the attention away from your brother.

“We’ve made it this far together,” You said, trying to reason. Poking the bear wouldn’t help anyone out in this situation. You’ve already tried that before, and ended up getting hurt because of it. “And we’ve done alright, wouldn’t you say? Okay, maybe there was a famine and Laura is back from the dead and the bullet guy is dead but we’re alive and we’re doing alright. We got a good thing going here. Let’s just keep it that way and not give each other anymore grief.”

“Bit late for that,” Shadow said, folding his hands in front of him and looked out the window. You glared at him - his input was usually nice, but now he was just stirring the pot.

“I just don’t want to see y/n get hurt,” Wednesday said, clapping to get Shadow’s attention back. “And if she-”

“They,” You corrected for the dozenth time today.

“- keeps following us around and getting involved in the war, it’s going to happen eventually. Remember Vulcan?”

You winced at the memory of the bullet God. You were glad that he was dead, thrown into the fire to become what he loved so much. Because of him, you had ended up getting shot. You and your damn mouth, getting you into trouble all the time. It hadn’t been a particularly dangerous shot, since it missed your arteries, but it still had hurt like a bitch. It was still wrapped up, underneath the frumpy sweater that you were wearing to keep yourself rather low-key.

“If you had given us any warning about what we were getting ourselves into, maybe it wouldn’t have happened,” Shadow said, still in a mood. The conversation took a lull for a moment as the waitress came around and put our heaping plates in front of us. I thanked her with a smile, then waited until she walked away to interject.

“Yeah, maybe if we weren’t with someone who had as many enemies, I might not have gotten shot.” You pointed out, looking pointedly at the old man across from you.

“Maybe if he had been looking where he was going-” Wednesday started to say again.

“They!” You jumped up, slamming your hands down on the table. “What is so difficult about they that you can’t understand? You’re ancient. You know a lot of words. Say this one with me. Th - ey. They.”

Wednesday gave you a dirty look which came through his bad eye as well as his good. You weren’t intimidated by him, though. He was an old God with old powers. He needed Shadow, and if he were to kill you, Shadow would not co-operate. It was as simple as that.

The restaurant had gone quiet at your outburst, but when you gave them nothing more to stare at, they cultivated their own conversations up to a peasant murmur once more. You lowered yourself back down onto the booth, and Shadow put his hand between your shoulders to keep you from jumping up again. And you noticed him subtly moving objects such as the napkin rack out of the way so you couldn’t hurl them at Wednesday’s head.  Probably a good idea.

You distracted yourself with the food that was put in front of you. The usual greasy diner fare you had gotten used to during this road trip.

“Y/N is staying with us,” Shadow said, leaving no room for disagreement on the matter. “There’s no reason that you can give that’s good enough.”

You stuck your tongue out at Wednesday, playing a not so tactile card, but you were just so pleased to be getting your way. He put his hands up in surrender, though he still had a calculating look on his face. “Fine - fine, if that is what you want, Shadow, that is what you’ll get.”

“Why does it feel like we just made a deal with an evil genie?” You asked Shadow.

“They prefer to be called Djinn-” Wednesday cut in as Shadow nodded.

“Oh, so you’re all about what they prefer to be called. But I don’t matter enough to have my own pronouns respected? Rude, Wednesday. Rude.”

-

You lounged in the backseat of the Wednesday’s car, back against the door, and feet up on the seat. The God kept fiddling with the dial, and then set it onto some jazz croner who gave you an instant headache.

“Do you know any enchantments, Wednesday?” You asked, playing with the seatbelt strap. He turned around to look at you, his eyes shielded by the ridiculous straw hat that he was wearing on his head.

“Why?” He questioned, since you rarely ever asked him anything.

“Is there one to make me temporarily deaf? Because this song is seriously causing me some pain. A bit of hearing loss wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Ask and you shall-” Odin started, but Shadow cut him off.

“Do not deafen y/n,” He ordered. “And stop complaining back there. I’ve heard the music you listen to. This is a gift compared to that.”

You crossed your arms and side dramatically, hanging your head backwards against the window.

“Bored, bored, bored,” You muttered under your breath, tapping the back of your head against the glass with each mention of the word. “Are there any attractions or something on this road? Like a museum? Or a hot dog shack? Bro, we gotta get a couple of footlongs. Road trips are nothing without the dogs. I don’t even know how we survived this long without them.”

“We’re not making a stop until we get to the destination,” Wednesday said, pulling the hat down over his eyes, clearly ready to take a snooze.

“We’re not making a stop until we get to the destination,” You mocked. Wednesday didn’t give you a response, so you had no fuel left to throw on the fire. Maybe taking a nap wasn’t such a bad idea. The beds in the motels that you’ve been staying in were lumpy. And they were the sort that took quarters in order to vibrate so you really hadn’t felt comfortable staying on them. You had laid out some of your clothes on top of the bedspread and slept on them, trying to make a barrier between yourself and the bacteria. It hadn’t worked very well.

-

You woke up an hour later, though there was no noise that had roused you. Rather, the car had come to a complete stop. You looked around to see that you were still in the middle of nowhere, but there was a stall up ahead. A woman was selling berries. In the middle of nowhere.

Shadow unclicked his seatbelt and was starting to get out of the car. You grabbed at his shoulder and tried to keep him in place but he looked like he didn’t hear you. You hurried out through your own door and circled ahead of him, walking backwards so he wouldn’t bump into you. “What happened to no stops?” You asked.

“I’m hungry,” He said, his broad frame catching up to you quickly, and then passing you. You had to jog to keep up.

“You do realize this is suspicious as hell, right? Look at where we are. It’s all ... fields. There are no berrybushes or anything around here. Where did she get them, and why is she selling them here, where no one drives?”

“You’re being paranoid,” Shadow said. You noticed, though, that he was looking straight ahead, his eyes never deviating. Right at the woman in the sundress on the side of the road who was beckoning for both of you to come closer. You shook your head - this was too damn weird.

“I’m serious Shadow,” You said, sensing that something wasn’t right here. Wednesday was no help, he was still napping in the passenger seat of the car. You could see him from where you were standing. “This sounds like a bad greek tale or something. I don’t trust it. I’ll buy you all you want to eat at the next rest stop, just please, get back in the car.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Shadow said, nudging you aside to go up to the woman. You turned around to take the sight of her in and - and she was beautiful. Not like a supermodel with angular features, but someone who just seemed to radiate love and life. Voluptious. Dimples. A great smile. Silky hair. The brightest eyes that you had ever seen.

“Come on sugar, don’t you want to try some fresh berries?” She asked, holding out a basket of blueberries.

You had to shake your head to release yourself from the temptation. It wasn’t all that hard. For you, it was a split second of hunger, and the thought of a pie. It was an easy temptation to get rid of. But Shadow was giving in - giving in way too easily. You never actually saw him eat berries before, so this was extremely suspicious. Trying to get him to return to the car with your words was clearly not working.

So you acted a little hastily. Rather than try to pull Shadow away, which would be damn near impossible given the size of him, you turned to the woman. She was smiling at you, trying to entice you to take a berry. Shadow was reaching inside of the basket, and pulled out one that looked perfectly ripe. Perfectly round.

You thrust your arms up under the basket, pushing hard on the bottom of it, making the woman jolt. She let go of the basket in surprise, and the berries flew into the air, then scattered on the ground around the three of you. “Look at what you did!” The woman screamed, falling onto her knees. It was like a curtain had been pulled, and light was seeping through - for you and Shadow were able to see more clearly now. The once beautiful woman was an old crone. Really like something out of Grimm brothers. Shadow pulled back in a dazed disgust, and looked around him.

“Where are we?” He asked, holding his head.

“Never mind that, get in the car, go, go, go!” You said, rushing him, pushing his back. He stared to jog back towards the car, turning his head over his shoulder to look at the stall. The woman was still on the ground, screeching, trying to put all of the berries back into her basket. You didn’t have much time before she would have collected them all. You had to get out of here.

You threw yourself into the backseat, and you didn’t have time to put your seatbelt on before Shadow was pressing down on the gas pedal and getting you the hell out of there.

“What happened?” Wednesday grunted, pulling the hat up from over his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Shadow said, still confused. He adjusted the rearview mirror but you popped your head up to try to block him from seeing out the back.

“Don’t even look, Shads,” You warned. “She might have all her berries back in her basket.”

“Rickity old stall?” Wednesday guessed.

“You know it?”

“It means that they know where we’re going and which way that we’re taking,” Wednesday said gloomily. “Good on you, Shadow, for not giving into the temptation. Many people have fallen-”

“You’re giving him all the credit? Really?” You asked, completely in disbelief. “He was over there like Narcissus to a mirror! I was the one who stopped it by hitting the damn basket.”

“It’s true,” Shadow agreed. “Y/N saw right through it.”

Wednesday didn’t say anything for a long moment. You didn’t think that he was going to at all. You just settled right back into the seat, looking through the windshield at the long road ahead.

“I guess you should continue with us then,” He said. You knew it was hard for the old God to admit any sort of defeat, so maybe you would let it go graciously..

Nah.

“In your face, sucker,” You said with a smirk.

#Shadow Moon #Shadow Moon oneshot #American Gods #American Gods oneshot #request #oneshot #oneshots #shadowm

[cle1024]

save me, save you | hhj

member: hwang hyunjin 

genre: angst, fluff 

summary: getting involved with the mafia was certainly not something you aimed to do in life―it was something you would’ve gratefully avoided, you much preferred breathing and living peacefully. yet, somehow, meeting him made the danger worth it.  mafia!au, gang!au, fem!reader 

warnings: mentions of murder, violence, drugs, swearing 

a/n: so uh,, i know nothing about saving someone’s life or fixing up a stab/bullet wound, and i also wasn’t taught much about human anatomy, so there WILL be inaccuracies in the medical scenes. i apologise in advance and i guess this is a cringe warning for anyone who is actually educated on those situations, i dropped out of science so can’t relate. i started this not long after miroh dropped i could just never be bothered to finish it until recently, but third hyunjin fanfic in a row here we come!!!!!! 

There was no doubt in your mind that Felix Lee was your best friend and always had been. 

The two of you grew up near one another, subsequently attending school together for the majority of your lives. It was the third day of school when the freckled boy approached you, tanned skin and dark hair, but a bright smile and sparkly eyes. 

“My name is Felix, let’s be friends!” 

“Okay.” 

Life by Felix’s side was enjoyable, content. Life was normal. And so, when Felix broke the news that he was moving to South Korea, you were understandably devastated. Though, you knew how much it meant to Felix: getting more in touch with his culture, family, and pursuing his studies more seriously and competitively. Nonetheless, despite all the pain and upset you felt, you supported his decision and maintained contact with him. 

That was six years ago when Felix left. Now, you’d both graduated from high school, Felix had acquired a stable job (that’s all he would tell you about it), and you were applying for an international studies program. You had no interest in the program initially, but your local universities had less than stellar resources for the course you wanted to study, and your teachers had constantly reassured that you were smart enough for a more prestigious institution elsewhere in the world. That and the fact the program meant your tuition would cost much less. You hadn’t expected to be accepted into the program, nor did you expect to receive a letter from the prestigious Seoul National University accepting your enrolment, yet you sat there with the printed letter in front of your awestruck face. It was only natural that you immediately text Felix—you told each other, almost, everything and he lived in Seoul, this could be the reunion you’d joked about when he first left. 

  |  so i got accepted into seoul national university    |  but i don’t speak good korean    |  lix: LMAO ME NEITHER HOLY FUCK 

Twelve months had passed since that message was sent. Your were almost fluent in speaking Korean, you much preferred just listening to it and speaking English with Felix. A sigh escaped your lips as you trudged to your apartment door, exhaustion racked your body from the unbearable demand of studying medical science. You tried to convince yourself it would pay off, but you weren’t certain yet. Perhaps when you sit your exams you’ll find out. Exams. Why did you have to think that up? It drew a small groan from your mouth as you shoved the key into your apartment door, prepared to fall face first into the couch and complain to the air. Though your desires could not be fulfilled. Sitting on the very couch you intended to fall into was Felix, twirling a swiss army knife twirl around his right fingers as he watched his phone intently. There was also a gun on the coffee table. Someone’s gun was on your coffee table. You had a lot running through your mind, many questions and minor concerns about why the fuck Felix had illicit weaponry in your house, but all you managed to say was, “oh.” The boy obviously hadn’t heard you come in, his head snapping up and his fingers halting their twirling. Looking in your eyes, he felt obligated to tell you everything.  

“That means I’m, basically, part of the mafia,” he paused to lick his lips, “we don’t sell weapons to the wrong people or kill for money. It’s more about… corruption and the occasional cocaine,” he summed up gently. You could definitively say it was the wildest fucking thing Felix had ever said to you, and you’d had some pretty odd conversations at two in the morning. As far as you knew, his job was stable and high paying, but you didn’t know it was completely and utterly illegal. Most sane people would flip their shit in this situation, cut off ties with Felix and shove him—along with all his weapons—out of the apartment. You didn’t react that way, and you weren’t sure whether it was because you were far too open-minded or because you had slowly lost your mind over time and become desensitised to any sort of shocking news. 

“Oh.” 

Felix chewed on his lip as you processed the information, clasping and unclasping his hands. He prepared for the worst, but you simply shrugged, “okay.” 

Felix was beyond bewildered, “y-you’re not mad? Or scared?” Your eyes softened at his questioning. 

“Felix, why would I be mad? It’s your life, do whatever you want with it. Your job doesn’t change the fact you’re a freckled sook who cried when you made your ramen too spicy.” 

“Okay, that was one time,” you laughed at his defensive expression and that was enough to break the facade completely. The two of you laughed for a little while until Felix’s face returned to a more serious expression, “Y/N, I promise you, you’re in no danger whatsoever. The golden rule in this district is to leave innocent people out of it, regardless of how much someone fucked you over. If anyone, and I mean anyone, does anything that alarms you or threatens you, you call me right away. Understand?” 

A soft smile stretched across your face at his concern, “of course I will,” Felix breathed a sigh of relief. If anything happened to you, especially at the fault of his job, he’d never forgive himself. To him, family came before his own safety; you were his unbiological sibling and he would always protect you as best as he could. 

It was all fine and dandy until someone broke that rule. Your eyes stung with exhaustion, the bright screen of your laptop glared at you as you tiredly read the words displayed on the screen. There was nothing you craved more at the moment than sleep; you seemed to be craving that a lot since you came to Korea. At first, you thought the distant sound of a doorknob being wobbled was one of your neighbours. It was a Friday night—or Saturday morning, you supposed—they’d probably gone out, got shit-faced and stumbled back home, having forgotten how to unlock a door. But then the noise stopped, a door squeaked open and was gently shut. You heard the door click back into place, and that’s when things started to feel off. It sounded too close to be next door—now that you thought about it, neither of your neighbours would even be out at this time. Perhaps it was Felix, he had often complained about how shitty the door to your apartment was. With a stretch of your arms and legs momentarily you pushed yourself from the bed, creeping towards your bedroom door. The cool metal of the doorknob brushed against your skin, seconds away from being opened when a series of crashes sounded from the small living room on the other side of the door. Felix may be clumsy, he may sit up too quickly and hit his head on tables, but he rarely managed to break anything in the process—if he did then the sound was followed with a string of English curses, but cuss words never came. You were starting to believe it was Felix. With all the courage you could muster, you opened the bedroom door and stood shocked at the scene in front of you. A vase lay broken on the floor—crash one. Your white sofa had been tipped backwards, the cushions scattered the floor. The coffee table had been overturned, candles left strewn on the floor. Your porcelain plate, which had previously sat by the sink, was attempting to escape the kitchen in hundreds of pieces—crash two. The wooden shelving unit diagonal to your bedroom had been tipped over, all your picture frames smashed into dangerous shards of glass—crash three. The chest of drawers near your bedroom door had been left untouched for the time being, a photo of you and Felix at seven years old perfectly intact. In the midst of chaos, a man stood with a black ski mask covering his face. All you could see where his ominous brown eyes, staring right back at you. It felt like you were staring into a dark pool, full of mystery yet devoid of emotion or sense of reality. It seemed to happen in an instant; one minute you were standing there in an intense stare off, the next you had been shoved against the wall of your living room right next to your bedroom door, your phone falling from your free hand in the process. His glove-clad hand wrapped securely around your throat, the pressure of his fingers increasing to cut off your air supply once and for all. You clawed at him, but you already knew it was no use. He was twice the size of you, had the upper hand, and had already weakened you significantly. You’d already accepted that you were destined to die at some point, everyone was, but you’d always secretly prayed that you’d get to say goodbye first. You didn’t want to leave without telling your parents you loved them, or telling your friends back home that they were some of the greatest people you’d ever met, or just saying a simple ‘cya’ to Felix, as you always did. Felix. The memory struck you like lightning as your vision started to spot slightly. When he confessed to you about his career, made that promise of protection, he had purposefully left something behind. 

“Take this,” Felix said as he held the swiss army knife towards you. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?” 

“If you ever need to defend yourself and I can’t, for some reason, use it.” 

You’d made the wise decision to hide it in your living room, behind that picture of you and Felix. If you could stretch your arm just a little further, you could grab the red covering. Your fingers strained as you held out for the weapon, head lifting up as your vision worsened. The sharp metal tickled at your fingers, causing you to desperately snatch the weapon up. You used all the coherence you had left, swiftly flicking the knife out of the plastic covering. Your vision was blurred, severely, and you could feel yourself losing consciousness. Just a little longer. With all the strength you could muster, you brought the blade upwards, taking no notice of where you stabbed him. A grunt left his lips, followed by some choked gasps. His hand unlatched from your neck to grab his own. You fell to your knees, wheezing for oxygen desperately, taking deep breaths as you coughed and gasped. Your eyes traveled downwards, catching sight of the red. There was blood all along the knife, staining your fingers. The man lay ahead of you on his back, blood spilling from his throat as he twitched and choked up the metallic substance. It was all over the floor around him. You could tell you’d caught an artery. In desperation, you tugged the purple hoodie from your shoulders, holding it against the man’s open neck wound. It seemed to get harder to breathe, even without the hand working to restrict your. Hands shaking, covered in the man’s crimson blood, tears streamed down your face. With the absence of your purple hoodie, now stained with the blood of someone else, the cold air nipped at your exposed skin. There were some red smears on your once white singlet. Why was there so much red? The shaking of your hands only worsened as you crawled to sit against the wall, hand reaching for the cellphone you’d dropped in the commotion. You only needed one person right now. The phone didn’t ring for long. 

“Y/N, what’s up?” Felix spoke calmly through the phone, blissfully unaware. A sob forced up your throat as you tried to talk. 

“F-Felix, I killed someone. Oh, God, I killed someone,” your voice came out between broken sobs. You could imagine Felix standing up in a panic, gathering his shit and furrowing his eyebrows. 

“What do you mean? Where are you?” 

“I-I’m at home, someone came in and I didn’t know what was happening and I-I stabbed him, Felix I sta-” 

“Hey, take a deep breath, okay? I’m on my way right now, don’t move,” you nodded in response, knowing fully well that Felix couldn’t see you. Mumbling an okay, you ended the call. 

Felix gently pushed open the door, ushering in the others. Chan, Minho and Changbin had insisted on coming along with Felix, worried someone else could be lurking and waiting for Felix to enter your apartment block. The apartment was in disarray: furniture tipped, photo frames shattered, a plate thrown carelessly like a toy. A body surrounded by blood, and Felix’s childhood friend sitting against the wall behind it, shaking. The purple material of your hoodie was stained, noticeably so, laying across your legs haphazardly. Felix rushed forward, crouching to your level and pulling you into his chest. The others watched from a few feet away, uncertain of what to say or do. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Felix cooed as sobs wracked your form. He swayed you gently, petting your hair to calm you down. The youngest turned his attention towards the other boys once your sobs quietened slightly, “Minho, can you take Y/N back down to the car? We’ll be down in a minute,” Minho nodded silently, gently walking towards you to scoop you up in his arms, the hoodie remaining bundled up on your legs. Neither of you said a word once you entered the car. Minho peeled the cover up from your lap, slightly gagging at the toxic iron scent of the blood. He gently take your hands in his as he washed off as much blood as he could with a white cloth and water bottle. Your mind was evidently elsewhere. 

Chan and Felix returned to the car ten minutes later after thoroughly searching for stolen possessions. Chan filled Minho in on the details, hoping you’d gain some closure from hearing them, “he was from NCT, had some silver bracelets and their wallet shoved in his bag. Changbin called Woojin, they’ll put everything back in place,” Minho nodded softly as Felix opened up the car door on your other side. The car starts as Felix takes one of your hands in his, the red stains faded to a lighter tone. You seemed to take no notice, staring blankly at the car’s console in front of you. 

It was late, or early depending on how you see it. Red lines illuminated in formation of the time, 3:36am. The car had pulled up in front of a dark house in a quieter area of Seoul, yet still off one of the main roads. You concluded that it was only quiet because of the ungodly time, otherwise there would be cars cramming the streets, honking left and right. Chan exited the car first, purposefully closing the door gently to not alarm or shock you, Minho following suit. Felix opened his door, tugging your hand gently to encourage you to leave the vehicle. It was as if you were on autopilot. Blood splattered legs moved on their own as the green hoodie Minho had leant you protected your arms from the chilling night air, Felix’s arm slipped around your waist to support you as you walked into the house. He noticed that Woojin’s car was missing from the street; he wondered how long it would take Woojin and Changbin to fix up your apartment. As you stepped foot inside the quiet house, it revealed itself to be much larger than you initially thought. The kitchen was furthest from you, a spiral staircase to the right that led you both upstairs and downstairs, a hallway that trailed off from the left side of the living room. The living room was cozy and inhabited by two boys packing cocaine. Lovely. 

“Hey ma- what the fuck?” The smaller of the two, a brunette boy with chubby cheeks, spoke as he raised his head to greet the returning members. The other boy, with lighter brown hair, almost a dirty blonde, mirrored the other’s confusion. Neither had expected to see a random person with bloody hands, legs and absent eyes being guided through the house by Felix. The freckled boy didn’t stop to greet them, immediately guiding you upstairs to wash off in the bathroom. The two boys immediately understood the severity of the situation, but they still craved for answers. 

“NCT went after them. All they did was defend themselves from death,” Chan spoke firmly, his eyebrows slightly curved in a mix of sympathy and fury.  

Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed, “but we don’t go after innocent people?” 

Chan huffed in response, “clearly NCT had other plans. Where’s Seungmin?”  

“Basement. Jeongin’s there too,” Hyunjin spoke as he turned his attention back to the white substance on the coffee table. Chan nodded firmly before leaving, Minho falling onto the empty couch across from the two boys to stretch his tired limbs. Hyunjin sat with furrowed eyebrows, staring at the table intensely. 

“Hyunjin, you good?” Minho questioned in concern. 

“Yeah, just… something feels off about this.” 

Jisung huffed a laugh, “well, yeah, NCT just broke a golden rule.” 

“That’s the point, why would they?” Jisung had suddenly lost interest in the business transaction being organised on the table, Minho sitting up in curiosity. Hyunjin flickered his eyes to the staircase momentarily, “you know how anal they are about maintaining that rule. Taeyong made the damn rule after…” Hyunjin trailed off as all eyes lowered solemnly, no one wanted to utter her name. They all knew how much it hurt Taeyong when she was murdered, everyone was hurt, shocked. There was no reason to bring up old pain, “why would they break it now?” Minho tilted his head as he wandered over the possibilities, Jisung put his focus back on the white substance with a sigh. 

“Whatever the reason, Chan will make them pay,” his nimbled hands continued with his previous work, “no fucking doubt.” 

Chan stood as Taeyong entered the cafe, bowing and shaking hands before sitting down again. It was better to meet in a public setting, less likely for emotions and irrationality to get the better of anyone involved. The older ran a hand through his fiery red hair in frustration, “what happened?” 

Chan lowered his voice cautiously, “Felix’s friend, Y/N... one of your men tried to kill them this past Friday.” 

Taeyong moved forward in his seat, leaning his elbows on the table with narrowed eyes, “what are you talking about?” 

“Ji Hansol broke into their apartment and almost killed an innocent person. One of your men broke the golden rule.” 

“Where is he?” Taeyong was evidently furious; that rule was the one thing he drilled into his employees’ minds. 

“Dead. It was either him or them.” 

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “if they hadn’t have already killed him I would’ve done it myself,” he paused abruptly, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, “wait—Ji Hansol?” Chan nodded, “how is that possible? He’s meant to be in China.” 

Chan mirrored Taeyong’s look of confusion, “then what the hell was he doing here?” 

Taeyong sighed, “as suspicious as it looks, I swear on her life that NCT was not behind this in any way. I’ll get the documents to prove he wasn’t meant to be here, I’ll help you get to the bottom of this, I’ll do whatever I can,” his voice softened significantly, “no innocent person deserves to die.” 

Lee Taeyong, as intimidating as he could be, was truly a weakened man. Behind the eyebrow slit, dark narrowed eyes, fiery red hair and commanding presence, he was a grieving lover, a leader of men who could die under his call. Chan knew he hadn’t lived the same experiences as the older, but he understood the fear that plagued him. The fear of losing everything, everyone—the only difference was that Taeyong had already experienced that when she died. Seulgi had done such a good job at keeping Taeyong together, but in doing so she became the only thing that could tear him apart. 

No one had a clue as to why you were targeted to begin with. NCT had proven their lack of involvement, none of Chan’s gang — which you’d come to know as ‘Stray Kids’ — had done anything to provoke Hansol, and he clearly wasn’t here to give an explanation. Seungmin had spent weeks researching the man, with the occasional help of Jeongin when he wasn’t at school or using an innocent childlike facade to coax information. After just over two months, Seungmin had finally found out what happened. During that time, you hadn’t left the guest room unless it was absolutely necessary. Felix and Changbin had returned to your apartment the day after the break-in to collect the belongings you’d need most desperately; none of them wanted you returning to the apartment until there was an answer. 

Seungmin’s chair swivelled around to face Chan and Taeyong in the doorway, “Voler.” 

“What?” 

“It’s French for ‘steal’ apparently,” Seungmin gestured his pen towards his desk, “it’s also the name of a huge hitman and robbery scheme across Asia. It’s believed to have stemmed from the Yakuza, but nothing’s confirmed. Our dear Hansol happened to be a loyal member.” 

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “I-I don’t understand, how could he betray us like that?” 

Seungmin sighed softly, “it paid very high, mainly because the stakes were so high. That doesn’t matter though, we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands now,” Seungmin’s hands sifted through the scattered information on his desk, a small noise of triumph leaving his soft lips once he retrieved the piece he was looking for, “they’ve got a base in Ilsandong-gu, Hansol was stationed at that specific base-” 

“Which means they were more likely to have involvement in Y/N’s robbery,” Chan voiced earning a satisfied nod from Seungmin. The curly-haired man turned to Taeyong, “you in?” 

Taeyong eyed the younger two momentarily, “without a fucking doubt.” 

Woojin grunted slightly as he supported Hyunjin with his left arm. They all knew the dangers this mission presented, but none of them quite preempted severe injury. Everything had been going to plan; Changbin sniped the first man who presented himself, Minho snuck up on the second, then all hell broke loose. There was blood everywhere, gunshots whizzing past barricades left and right, it was pure chaos. Hyunjin had been grappling with a rival member, trying to gain dominance in order to reach for the gun abandoned beside the two. He had almost reached it when the other forced a knife through his abdomen towards the upper right of his belly button. Changbin took the chance to shoot the perpetrator in the head after noticing the situation, desperately signalling to Woojin. Soon, all of SKZ were alerted of Hyunjin’s state, covering Woojin from gunfire as he half-dragged half-carried Hyunjin out of the warehouse. 

When you heard the door burst open, the last thing you expected to see was a groaning Hyunjin leaning on Woojin for support. You saw the blood staining his shirt, pouring from his abdomen, causing your stomach to churn and rid of the desire to eat the sandwich you’d just made. You hardly knew Hyunjin, or Woojin, or any of SKZ except for Felix, but you knew where your morals lied. If there was a man bleeding out in front of you, you’d do everything you could to save his life. There’s no denying that you didn’t have extreme confidence in your medical ability, at least in terms of operating on dying people, but you put that aside in the moment. You knew how the human body worked and how to save it, all you had to do was not fuck up in the process. Instantly, you snap into action, trailing behind Woojin towards their designated medical room. The only time you’d entered the room was when Felix forced you inside so Woojin could properly check the bruises on your neck. You had taken notice of the lack of anesthesia or oxygen masks to be used in desperate situations—Felix had once told you that Woojin always patched them up, but he also told you that no one had ever been fatally wounded. 

Woojin’s panic was evident in the way he hastily laid Hyunjin down on the operating table, eyes darting around frantically. With quick steps, you moved beside Woojin, “get a cloth or something to put in his mouth, it’ll muffle the screams,” the older nodded quickly. You turned your attention back to Hyunjin—he was paler than usual, sweating and groaning, his condition was only worsening. As soon as Woojin had shoved the cloth in his mouth you proceeded, ordering him to hold Hyunjin down to the best of his ability. You were glad Woojin was strong; Hyunjin would be in a hell of a lot of pain. Hyunjin’s neck tensed as you placed a hand on the knife’s handle, grunting slightly at the movement. You took a deep breath, laying a hand on his abdomen for support as you removed the knife from him as quickly as you could. A pained scream tore from Hyunjin’s throat, guttural and haunting. The cloth had done little to muffle the sound. Your hands applied pressure to the wound, frantically working to halt the bleeding before it was too late, all the while Woojin promised he would treat Hyunjin to a free meal if he got through the pain. 

Hyunjin’s chest raised up and down peacefully as he slept in the white bed of the medical room. After screaming and groaning his way through the process of getting stitches, he haphazardly downed a glass of water before falling asleep. You found it difficult to monitor whether the boy had made it or not due to the lack of heart monitor, the peaceful sounds of his breathing would have to do for now. 

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N, really,” Woojin spoke warmly. You’d have previous assumptions about the mafia and gangs, mainly based on Hollywood flicks that dramatised the career choice, but the nine boys seemed to throw those all out the window. Woojin had a nurturing and calming presence, Felix was playful and giving, that Minho guy who’d fixed you up that night was quiet and respectful. To be fair, the rest of them could have entirely fit the stereotype of the mafia, you just hadn’t interacted with them enough to find out. After the events that brought you here, you decided it would be best to just stay out of the way and keep to yourself—both for your benefit and theirs. You didn’t want to interrupt what they had going on and you didn’t want to interact with anyone. With a polite smile you nodded your head, unsure of how to respond to Woojin. 

Chan stood in the doorway as you laid the damp cloth on Hyunjin’s head. Two days had passed since the stabbing and you’d devoted all your time to helping Hyunjin—you figured it would be a good way to repay them for letting you stay here, and you were the most qualified to do so. Hyunjin wanted nothing more than to get back to work but his body simply refused. Exhaustion wracked his limbs when he was awake and every time he attempted to sit up, let alone stand, his head felt like a bowling ball and weighed him back down. He’d fallen asleep not long ago, before Chan came to check on him. You weren’t aware of the older’s presence until he spoke up, startling you into a flinch of fright. 

“Thank you for doing this.” 

You half-smiled at him, “it’s okay.” 

The male sighed gently before walking into the room, the click of the door shutting behind him sliced through the room’s air. You felt his presence beside you as you refused to meet his gaze—he was far too intimidating even by just standing there, “I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this,” his voice was gentler than before. Soft, calm, genuine—he probably wouldn’t fit the stone cold stereotype set by Vito Corleone in The Godfather, “we’ll figure out a safer place for you to go, but, in the meantime, just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I truly am sorry that you got dragged into this.” 

You turned your head in order to meet Chan’s gaze. It was soft, genuine, and almost broken. You got the feeling that he didn’t enter this lifestyle willingly, that he knew exactly what it was like to suddenly be affiliated with a lifestyle you had little to no prior knowledge about. Chan wasn’t here by choice, but he stuck by it. He followed through with what fate served him and he built an empire from it, he found a family to live through the darkest of days. You admired that more than he could know, “I will. Thank you for what you’ve done.” 

Chan didn’t voice it, but he saw your arrival as a potential opportunity. You were familiar with medicine and how to properly patch someone up after they receive a life-threatening injury. Rather than losing two fighters when someone is injured, surely it would be better to have a designated nurse who could stick to the job, instead of forcing Woojin to rush through life-saving surgery in order to make it back to a mission in time to drive everyone back to the house. Chan knew it was a desperate deal, stupid and selfish in all honesty, but your arrival could’ve been a long-term blessing in disguise. After all, Chan’s life had been largely riddled with bad luck, perhaps karma had finally taken mercy on him. 

At least a month had passed since the incident—you really had no concept of time in this place—and Hyunjin was slowly, but surely, recovering with no sign of infection. You’d also seen his bare abdomen one too many times at this point since he insists on being shirtless―he avidly insists “it’ll be easier than fucking up my shirt.” Aside from monitoring his recovery and trying not to stare at his perfectly sculpted abdomen, you’d began to form a good bond with Hyunjin during your time together. You never talked to him until the incident, mainly because you never had a reason to leave the room you were staying in, and you couldn’t deny you were slightly mad with yourself for not conversing sooner. He was entertaining to talk to, a little bit of a drama queen sometimes, yet intelligent and open-minded. Hyunjin had a good mix of personality traits, you slightly envied him for such. Surely conversing with someone like yourself was bland and repetitive. 

Of course it was unbeknownst to you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth; Hyunjin had taken an interest in you since you began caring for him. All he had known about you prior to your care was that you and Felix had been good friends for a while, you were studying at university, and your shit got rocked by someone you didn’t even know―it was an unfortunate turn to say the least. The fact it happened to you made Hyunjin curse the forces that caused it; there was no reason for you to be dragged into this kind of unforgiving, inescapable lifestyle when you had a heart of gold. He could vividly recall the conversation that prompted the revelation, it must’ve been two or more weeks into his recovery. 

“I assume you study nursing or something, right?” 

“Medical science, but close enough,” you shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Why medical science instead of becoming a doctor or something?” 

“We all die one day, I’d rather help find a cure for something than force people to suffer through it slowly.” 

Hyunjin hadn’t known how to respond to that, so he didn’t, but it resonated with him. The whole reason he’d joined the business, this kind of inescapable lifestyle, was to earn enough money to pay for better treatment for his mother. He got close, really damn close, but he just didn’t get there in time. The first non-business phone call he got was to inform him about his mother’s passing, he hadn’t received another since. 

It was evident to Hyunjin, and every other member, that you were incredibly smart―a fact Felix would boast as if it was his own. Your skills, mainly in the science field, could come in useful to the gang: you had a good medical understanding, knew which chemicals could do harm or hinder a person momentarily. Chan was intrigued by your abilities and more than willing to take you on board, but no one ever joined without the approval of every member. Gaining such had been a difficult task, with Felix insisting that he didn’t want to see you hurt or in harm’s way―his mind quickly changed when Jeongin asked “wouldn’t it be just like a sleepover?” Hyunjin wasn’t as easy to persuade. He didn’t share the fact he was hesitant, but he didn’t need to. It was written all over his symmetrical face. 

Truthfully, Hyunjin had grown a little too close to you during his recovery, obliviously until he had a startling epiphany. You were the last thing he saw when he fell asleep, the first thing he saw when he woke up. You cared for him more than yourself, it was evident in your under eye bags and weight loss ― to the point where he had refused to eat unless you were eating with him. When he looked at you, the evening sunset highlighting you perfectly and your hair unstyled, yet sitting neatly on your head, he knew he was in deep. Regarding his feelings, he had two concerns: whether you felt the same way, and whether Felix would be accepting of his feelings and approve him as a candidate for your love; he didn’t need the added possibility of you fucking dying to become the third concern. At the end of the day, he supposed it didn’t matter. Felix would never want anyone to hurt you, and even if he didn’t intend to, Hyunjin knew he would inevitably end up doing so. 

When Chan proposed for you to join their gang, you were hesitant to say the least. For you, there was no desperate situation in which you needed cash quickly, no reason to put yourself in harm’s way. It was dangerous, Chan admitted that to your face, but he promised you consistent protection and a position that didn’t include staring down the barrel of a gun. 

“Y/N, you’ve been here for four months already. How many times have you been hurt?” 

You didn’t like his persuasiveness, or the fact he was right. Since you moved into their guest bedroom you’d felt safer, no longer feeling eyes follow you or whispers of your name in the middle of the night. There was a small part of you that wanted to decline the offer, return home to your apartment and never look in the eyes of Chan or Hyunjin ever again. Of course, that was only a small part of you. Although you hated to admit it, you knew you’d never be able to return to that apartment. Not without seeing the blood all over again, feeling the breath leave your lungs or hearing unexplainable noises elsewhere in the apartment. With a soft movement of your head, you agreed, “okay.” 

Chan smiled with a strong nod, he was fond of you after all, as were the others in the group. It seemed that everyone was in support of the decision, especially your freckled friend who beamed as he exclaimed, “it’ll be like an eternal sleepover!” 

“That sounds like a nightmare if you’re involved,” Seungmin deadpanned, but his stoic expression was quickly replaced by an amused smile at Felix’s pout. Though, everything wasn’t as it seemed. Hyunjin, as much as he wanted to be, wasn’t excited. You joining the gang ― regardless of whether you would be in the middle of the action ― meant seeing you everyday. Seeing you everyday meant realising how much he admired you. And admiring you meant he would only fall deeper. How could he tell anyone that, though? Such an objection would send a rift of embarrassment, discomfort, awkwardness through the house; everything would fall. There was no time for silly crushes. All he could do was admire you from afar and ache every time you walked away from him, completely oblivious to how he felt. When did he become so weak? Hyunjin didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and that’s exactly how you made him feel. With a soft sigh, he decided it would be better to just stay away. 

It was a solid plan―for a month, until Hyunjin was injured again in a trade gone wrong. If he was being completely honest with himself, which he recently was not, the constant thought of you kept him from concentrating during the trade. He felt so out of it, blocking out the sounds of his non-biological brothers yelling as a bullet whizzed towards him. No, all he saw was the way you looked so ethereal in the light, the way you would always be just out of reach. All he could think about with you, there was no time to consider the scars being etched in his abdomen. Faintly, he could feel the burning in his chest, Chan’s arms dragging him away as bullets rang out from Changbin’s position on the roof. He didn’t register being put in the car, or Chan demanding he keep his eyes open with a hand pressed tightly against his chest. He could feel his feet dragging slightly as Chan and Woojin dragged him inside, the sight of Hyunjin’s pale face and bleeding chest forcing Seungmin, Minho and Jeongin to abandon their intense game of uno. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, shit,” Chan and Woojin couldn’t find the time to scold Jeongin’s language, too concerned with the dying boy in their arms. Jeongin’s feet pounded up the stairs, throwing your door open and tugging you to the first aid room. The confusion on your features transformed to gut-wrenching worry as soon as you caught sight of Hyunjin, his shirt off and a cloth being stuffed in his mouth―you couldn’t tell whether it was Minho or Woojin who was holding him down while the other gathered the necessary equipment, everything seemed to blur as you jumped into action. You’d found someone willing to sell you, an unlicensed medical student, anesthesia, but it was due to arrive next week―just your luck. Chan’s hands clamped on Hyunjin’s legs, Seungmin turned away to avoid the gruesome sight, Jeongin lingered by the door. 

“I’m sorry,” the words came out as a whisper as you took the scalpel from Woojin, slicing across where the bullet had entered. The entry hole was too small to get it out safety―who were you kidding, you weren’t even sure if you could get it out. The cloth only slightly muffled the pained groan Hyunjin let out, gosh, you wished that anesthesia could’ve come sooner. Screams of agony tore from his throat as tweezers worked to remove the bullet, the writhing of his legs causing anxiety to rise in your chest. 

“Keep him still,” Woojin ordered. One sudden move and you’d live with the crushing guilt of knowing you let Hyunjin die. Hyunjin seemed to vaguely register Woojin’s words, opting to tense his muscles rather than squirm away from the pain. Seungmin covered his ears with a solemn expression while Jeongin looked away in discomfort, the shrill cries continuing. It was close, too close for your liking, to hitting Hyunjin in a fatal area or embedding deeply in his chest. 

“I got it,” you mumbled as the bloody metal was dumped in the dish beside you. Woojin ushered everyone out of the room, Hyunjin’s screams of agony downgrading to groans. 

“Give me a call if you need anything,” the oldest closed the door behind him. You heard the front door slam open and shut with frantic footsteps, marking the return of Felix, Changbin and Jisung. Words were calmly and indistinguishably spoken by Chan. Though, it didn’t matter what he was telling them, your priority was making sure Hyunjin wouldn’t cease breathing. His eyelids were fluttering shut from exhaustion, an action that would flare alarm in your chest. 

“Please, don’t fall asleep.” 

The cloth was removed from his mouth when it was over, your hand raking his hair away from his sweaty forehead, ridding of the uncomfortable sensation. A sigh passed your lips, voice soft as you spoke, “you need to stop making a habit out of this,” it was directed towards Hyunjin, but you weren’t sure he heard it. 

Hyunjin wanted to respond, something flirty he could blame on his disorientation and pain, but you were already urging him to down some bottled water. As you cleaned the utensils, Hyunjin allowed his eyes to flutter closed, whispering a gentle “thank you, Y/N.” 

Time passed without your acknowledgement; had it been weeks, months? It all blended together, you couldn’t be certain. Hyunjin was close to recovery, but not quite there. Frankly, you were getting tired of his occasional complaints about not “being in action”. Part of you hoped he’d stay out of action if it kept him safe, but you knew that wasn’t an option in this kind of lifestyle. The roots of his hair were coming through, the dirty blonde darkening to have a light brown tone instead. It was the little things that were becoming noticeable as you spent more time with him; the moles on his face, the way the sun seeped through the window and reflected so clearly in his eyes. He sat on what was referred to as the ‘operation table’―except it wasn’t padded and was likely meant for veterinarians―as you searched for mild pain medication. When you turned around, you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire him. His head was turned away from you, gazing wistfully out the window, the setting sun illuminating his honey skin in rays of golden sunshine. He looked like a statue from Greek mythology, sculpted by the Gods to embody perfection, frame marked with the scars of a warrior. They littered his abdomen, one from the stabbing, one from the bullet, one on his lower back that Woojin had patched up for him before you came ― it was obvious in the way it was majorly faded. A sigh passed the male’s plump lips, looking down at his fidgeting hands before looking up at you. If only you knew what he thought about you. How he felt you were incomparable, the finest piece of art to ever be masterfully painted. The oversized white shirt you wore contrasted your glowing skin and hung around your figure in an unfitted, yet still accentuating, manner. It wasn’t quite long enough to hide your blue pyjama shorts from sight. You approached him quietly, holding out the painkillers and a glass of water. Pulling yourself on the table, you sit beside Hyunjin as he downs the painkillers and watch the sunset. He glances over at you curiously, gulping down a mouthful of water, “you seem to be pretty good at saving lives, why aren’t you a doctor already?” A light laugh passed your lips. 

“Because I’m not studying to become a doctor, and I haven’t spent, what? Nine years studying?” 

“It takes nine years to become a doctor?” Hyunjin’s eyes almost bulged out of his skull. You shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Something like that,” a comfortable silence settled between the two of you, watching as the sun swam closer to the horizon, “besides, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the pressure of saving someone’s life.” 

A chuckle sounded from Hyunjin, “you say that, yet you’ve saved me from death twice.” You grew silent, he looked at you knowingly. The thought had never crossed your mind, you didn’t want to consider the possibility of Hyunjin dying―you didn’t want to imagine any of them dying, Hyunjin was the only one who’d come close so far. 

“Yeah, but that’s… different.” 

“How is it different?” Hyunjin looked towards you with a quirked eyebrow; you often wondered that too. You refused to look at him, too afraid of spilling all your secrets with one glance―but they came out in whispers, regardless. 

“Because… I can’t live a life where you’re dead.” 

The words almost slipped by him, blending in with the light breeze swirling outside, but he caught them. In one sentence, Hyunjin had the answers to every question that’d swarmed his brain since the week after his stabbing. There was no hesitation in his actions, cupping your left cheek in his hand and turning your face towards him. The sun glistened in your eyes, highlighting the enchanting colour of your orbs, shadows danced lightly on your face. In that moment, he wanted you to know that you wouldn’t lose him, no matter what. His eyes fluttered shut as his head dipped down, fulfilling the dream he’d chased since you first saved him. Your lips pressed together in a warm embrace, melting together as if they were made for each other. His tongue swiped at your lower lip, asking for access that you granted. As the sun rays of gold heated your skin and framed your soul, Hyunjin swore he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

#stray kids #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids blurbs #stay kids imagines #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin scenario #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin angst #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin fluff #skz #kpop #kpop angst #kpop scenario #kpop fluff #i'm going mia again

[universal-casey]

This is the story I was talking about earlier that my anon Phoenix wrote!!! It’s so good and I’m sure you all will love it too!

He didn’t know how it started. They were fighting, fighting half the world, and they were losing. Then Soviet said something, an order from his position on the ground where he had been put by an angered, hurt and grief-stricken father... his father. A word, in that language he cursed to hear from that monster’s mouth. But that word, that single word ignited something in him, and all he saw afterwards was red and all he heard was screaming. Then they went from losing, to red-painted winning. He tore the man he called father once so long ago off his master with a cry full of blind rage. What was he even angry at? He should have been happy that his family was finally coming to help him, and he was at one point, but he was also saddened at how brutal the battle became as Soviet tried so hard to keep him under his grasp. But those feelings were gone now, buried under the blinding anger he felt. 

He tore through more people he cared about, watching the crimson from their veins flood and stain his hands. At some point, his blindfold fell off. He could hear his mother’s strangled cry of horror at the sight of his missing eye as he wrapped his hands around her throat. The cry triggered something small in him, but it wasn’t enough to overcome the fury in his head. France fell unconscious and he moved on. He moved on… Why had he stopped moving? The red cleared enough for him to see why. His sweet little brother, Canada was next. The younger man stared into his older brother’s single eye with horror, grief, and compassion? This confused America, did his brother, even in face of such horrendous crimes and empty movements, still love him? Even as he hurt their mother and father to the point they could die? Why hadn’t he killed them? He realized he hadn’t killed any of the countries he had attacked for some unknown reason.

He could hear Soviet screaming orders at him, commanding that he kill one of the people he was closest with. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. As the red cleared more, Soviet’s words began to fall on deaf ears as a rhythmic pounding resounded through the country’s body. It only took a moment for him to realize that it was his heart, singing its song of lament and love to him. Something he hadn’t heard in years. Something that broke down all of the walls he had built to keep himself together. Because somehow, someway, even when battered, bruised, bleeding, even broken at points, it had stayed intact. As he focused on Canada again, looking into the other’s wide eyes, his heart quickened as the tears began to run out. Unable to stop them, or the pent up pain that consumed his body, all America could do was let out an agonizing scream that one could swear was heard all over the globe. A scream so heart wrenching and gut turning as his mind and heart battled within him, fighting each other in a twisted tangle for dominance. 

Covering his eyes in a vain attempt to stop the jumbled overflow of everything, he fell to his knees as the deafening sound continued to tear at his windpipe. An overflow of pent up emotion of all kinds; overflow of his senses, the salty taste of tears and burning smell of smoke and iron cutting through dragging guilt and depression through his shattered soul. The overflow of just pain. The pain of loss, the pain he felt when his body bled, the pain in his heart that took over and infected every vein. He… He couldn’t focus, and all he could do was scream into the darkness he had enveloped himself into, the sound blocking out every other sound in the torn battlefield around him as all people could do was watch. All there was, outside of him, was silence. A cold dead silence. 

But even if he wanted to, even if he tried, he couldn’t stop screaming. He couldn’t stop letting out all the pain. He felt a pair of thin, but strong arms wrap around his body as he continued to let out everything. Those arms held something he hadn’t felt in a long long time. Love. Something he had craved. Something he yearned to have… and here it was. So he took it, even if there was a promise it wouldn't last. Wrapping his arms around a person he couldn’t see, he buried his face into the shoulder, squeezing them tightly and he sobs. Finding some small comfort in the darkness of the world around him. A different scent flooded his nose, pine trees, and the sweet scent of maple. It was a welcome break from the wartime smells he had before, and he embraced his brother a little tighter. 

Canada didn’t care that he was having difficulty breathing due to his brother hugging him too tight. He understood that he was in a lot of pain and needed someone to be there. He understood that long before this mess, even when America would smile that bright signature beam and say he was alright. But he was also angry. Angry at himself for not being there to help his brother when he needed him, angry at Soviet for hurting him so deeply, and so very angry that this had happened in the first place. Maybe there was a world somewhere, someplace where this had never happened, and he would be able to see his brother as fine as he could be and happy. But if it did exist, it wasn’t here. So Canada just hugged his brother tighter, rubbing a circle on his back just like how their Mother showed them when they were young and innocent.

***

As for Soviet? Oh he was pissed. He didn’t spend years breaking that striped freak down into being the perfect weapon for him to become so useless! Soviet picked himself off the ground, grunting in pain as he put his arm back into its socket. Growling in frustration, he dislodged his weapon from Britain's hands, unaware that the other was still alive, even with bones peeking through his flesh. Dragging himself, and preparing his SVT-40 to fire-- but not unlocking the safety just yet-- and to get rid of the nuisance once and for all. Not before getting some last insults, curses and a proper beating, of course

***

As America’s heart rate began to slow, he became aware of his surroundings once more, the crackle of the fires around him, the steady but strained breathing of his brother and the silence. But in that silence, he heard a familiar sound of heavy boots hit the ground, the subtle click of metal, coming towards him, gripping him in the vice of fear, cold but homely. Canada noted this, looking up and seeing Soviet coming towards them. The tall, bloodied man, imposing in the flame-lit dark of night, his eye empty but filled with the intent to kill as he held his rifle in his hands. Letting go of his brother, and twisting himself out of his grip, he decided that he would make up for not being there in the past, by being there now.

Canada put himself between America and the Soviet Union, preparing himself to die if he must. Soviet smiled at him, amused by this, that crazed look of murder not changing. America perked his head up, and began to process what his brother was doing. He turned, and tried to speak out, to tell his brother no, but his voice failed him: catching in his throat and choking him. He could only watch as the man that had tortured him for so long began to hurt his brother. As he watched the life-giving crimson begin to pour and the screams start again, something in him snapped.

What happened next was a blur, but to an outsider, they would see the smaller man spring from where he had fallen to his knees, grabbing the barrel and the stock of the union’s gun. It was torn out of the gloves of the larger communist as a cry of defiance and rage ripped itself from America’s dry windpipe, a fire once seen only 200 years before lit in his eyes as both glowed with a small pinprick of light.

***

Elsewhere, a group of people on a fleet of ships awaited the signal from the mainland as their king watched the shore. Then the signal was seen, a simple raising of a flag. The flag’s fifty stars and thirteen stripes raised high in the wind, flapping greatly. With that, two hundred thousand soldiers joined several million on land in a fight for something so simple, yet so great. Freedom. Not just any freedom, no. Freedom to themselves, freedom in love and life. A freedom that would sound so simple and so human, and yet wasn’t seen so very often. The freedom of choice. As they fought, pushing towards a capital once held in such high regard, they raised their flag of freedom. As they fought for that simple freedom to be human in all aspects.

***

This freedom and the constant battles made for it, pushed that fire to burn brighter and more powerful than ever before. So bright that it was almost blinding, as a different type of tear rolled gently down his cheeks. He wasn’t fighting for himself. In all of his battles, he never was just fighting for him. Here, now, he was fighting for the world and its freedom from the tyrant before him. Glancing at his injured sibling, he issued one single request of him as his eyes swept over the landscape, “Get them all out of here,” was all he said, before shoving Soviet back. The larger man pulled out a pistol and started shooting at Canada as he moved to evacuate the area, but America stepped between them, taking each bullet and not flinching even as the wounds burned.  

Another roar of rage, fueled solely on his true anger now, led him to spring at Soviet as the planes, tanks and trucks that weren’t damaged began to leave the two behind. Using his bare hands, he wrapped one around the other’s neck, squeezing it tightly. The other curled into a fist as he punched the face that had taunted and pained him. Soviet was no longer smiling, especially not as he felt the crack that had formed on his cheek begin to grow. Using his empty hand, he hit back, managing to throw the other off of him. Raising his pistol, he fired, but America moved, so it only grazed his cheek. America moved in closer, twisting his body in a kick that knocked the weapon from the other’s hand. 

Surrounded by a ring of fire, the two took a few steps back and circled, breathing heavily. Both were aiming to kill, and they may as well kill each other in this. But that was okay with America. If he was going to go down, he sure as hell would bring this bastard of a human with him. Hatred and animosity reached a boiling point and they clashed again, Soviet aiming a punch at the smaller man’s head, leading the man to dodge and kick his knee to the side, bringing the taller down so he could reach his head. America punched, but Soviet moved his head, grabbing the arm and twisting it behind America. Still facing each other, America bashed his skull against the other’s and used his still propped up leg to leverage himself into a back flip over Soviet’s arm, twisting himself out of his grasp.

Grunting and rubbing his forehead, Soviet stumbled back before growling at America who returned the noise, the two pacing around the other in the fiery cage like two tigers. Soviet saw something glint out of the corner of his eye. His pistol flashed in the dancing scarlet. He reached for it as America ran at him again, firing and boring another hole in the country's body. This didn’t stop him, though. America tackled him, wrapping both hands around Soviet’s windpipe. The man choked, his mind losing focus as he struggled for air, as he tried to aim at the other’s head. Shooting again, he caught America’s left shoulder, easing the grip as one hand went to cover the wound. Regaining air, Soviet kicked America in his chest, winding him and getting him off. 

The two stared at each other, breathing heavily and grunting like animals as they glared into each other's souls. Soviet raised his gun, aiming for the hole he had made, knowing that since there was no eye, the bullet would likely go directly into America’s brain. America ran at him again, the middle three fingers of his right hand curling slightly. A gunshot rang out.

***

Several hours later, the chopping of a helicopter was heard, as a bright light shined down. Something on the ground moved slightly, and the people on board landed to investigate. They found a messy scene: one body and a charred jacket of a smaller person was found. The body was unrecognizable due to being burned by the flames and was noted to have the throat ripped out. “Over here!” came a cry, as the team rushed over to find a survivor, barely breathing, half hidden by the charred grass. Blood was pouring from the right eye, but they were still alive. But for how much longer? Quickly and carefully they got the person on a stretcher and took off.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep. A blinding white light flooded his vision. Was he dead? Somehow, even with all he had done, he made it into heaven? Does heaven even smell like birch pines, roses and… wait is that a crepe? Processing this for a moment, he realized he somehow wasn’t dead. His sight finally adjusted to the light, and he could see three people in the bright hospital room. The two sat, clearly conked out in the chairs, were Great Britain and France, his parents clearly exhausted: his father’s brow crinkled in a worried crease that hadn’t yet softened, a few emptied plates on the table next to them. Next to him, in the chair directly by the bed, hand locked within his own, was his brother Canada. All of them were still bandaged, he noted his father didn't have his usual top coat over his button up, leading him to believe that he was still admitted, but allowed to be here. It was peaceful, other than the steady noises of the machines that told he was still alive. 

The peace he felt didn’t last as his cranium was slammed with a pounding headache. Groaning, he brought his free hand up to his head, and rubbed it, noting a large bandage was wrapped around where his right eye had been.

…

Oh right. The events of yesterday flooded back to him, making his headache worse. Another groan was heard as Canada woke up, rubbing his eyes, and readjusting himself to the light. Seeing his brother was awake, he beamed, months of waiting finally over. “America! You’re awake!” He whisper-shouted excitedly.

“Yeah, but I feel like death. How long was I out?”

“6 months.” At this, America gawked at him, appalled. In his mind, that battle-to-the-death was only yesterday. 

“6 months?!”

“Yep. Also, not too long after the doctors let you out of surgery, your flag changed. It actually looks really cool.” Canada went over to where France was and pulled a mirror out of her purse. Bringing it up to America’s face, he saw that he kept his stars and his stripes, but the stars were now in the middle of his face, over a pale red center, with the stripes circling out from around them. Similar to the bands of the milky way, curving out from the center. The stars that didn’t fit in the middle dotted along the dark navy lines that contrasted the white ones. Bringing a hand to his face, he saw the new look for his hands. For the most part it was the same as before, with the blue and the big star. But the stripes on his fingers, he had three on each finger now, and went red, orange and yellow.  He didn't have to go far to find the green, blue and purple lining his wrists where the dark navy ended. He actually found it pretty cool, he had always loved the rainbow from since he was child, the colors meaning the duality and diversity of life to him, and how it all fits together,  and how it wouldn't be complete if you removed any color.

#countryhumans #soviet america au

[drmedicsgamesurgery]

Danganronpa Togami Volume 3 Part 8 (Summary)

[0] See endnotes for a revelation about Haruki Murakami's relation to this novel I had while at the bookstore.

Thanks to @enoshima-pyon @shockersalvage​ @jinjojess​ @hopeymchope​ and the girl I met at the bookstore who recommended me ‘Kafka on the Shore’ out of sheer coincidence, for helping out! 

7.

"My kettle!"

"Get down! Be careful not to get hit by that rifle!"

"That’s a submachine gun. It’s not good to just think there is only one weapon type"

"Whatever, lay down!"

However instead of going prone, he stood up and went to the coat rack to take his hat. At the moment, K reached out, the hat was reduced to Swiss cheese "Why destroy the hat like a surrealist!?"

"Please, let's lie down!"

"Samsa, who transformed into a bug, moved around the room somewhat like this," K finally listened to me. He’s down. "Nevertheless, I do not want to sleep forever here. That guy with the submachine gun will  want to play close combat. He should soon be in the hut."

"Just what can we do?"

“Unfortunately, I can’t help you aside from wishing for the good times that I hope will find you.” says K “If you’re expecting me to say something like, ‘I knew something like this would happen so I developed ‘Borges Mark II’ which fixed all the weaknesses that the previous model had’...forget it! Don’t expect a development like that!”

With more bullets flying into the house and destroying items like paintings and tableware, K loses his temper and orders Shinobu to follow him. He then opens a hidden door in the kitchen that goes into an underground staircase that leads to the garage. An experience that caused Shinobu to remember when she read the Diary of Anne Frank [1], which left her speechless. Once they get to the garage there is an old Skoda car. K asks Shinobu if she can drive. She asks if he isn’t going with her and he answers that he’s living incognito, so he can’t go with her. Shinobu tells him not to die.K says they are going after her, so they won’t bother killing him. Thus, Shinobu gets in the car and prepares to leave.

I opened the window of the driver's seat.

"Thank you for creating Borges." she says gratefully to K’s surprise.

"Don't you hate me?" he asks.

"There are, of course, hundreds of complaints I would make, but...the world that Borges made me see was very beautiful."

"I hope the world you will see with your left eye will not be so bad either."

"One more thing……"

"What else?"

"I always wanted to know...the writer who you started to tell me about that got angry in the interview. Who is he?"

"Milan Kundera." replied K and I realized one thing.

Kundera. 

That initial letter is also K. 

Kundera is still alive, an old man. After the war, he fled to France, but he was born in the Czech Republic…

No, no. It couldn’t be- Could it? Was that really possible? I am eager to find out if K is also part of the false reality that Borges has shown me, or not.

"Kundera has written a very good sentence. I will quote it until the end." K said. "’Betrayal is to get out of your position. Betrayal is to get rid of the original position and cast it to the unknown’."

"I’m leaving."

I stepped on the gas pedal and the car suddenly slammed into the garage door, breaking it. I saw through the rearview mirror that K was calling, but from his previous words and deeds, he should not blame me for this little thing. 

I drove all the way and rushed down the mountain road. Back when I walked up on my own two legs, I was walking pretty hard.

Now I’m leaving this road at the speed of sound! I was extremely happy! Every time I was too unskilled to shift gears properly, the car squeaked and shaked. 

However, the vintage engine kept running like it has been operating for years now. 

All this means, I just had to keep at it with a smile...until those bullets finally enter my brain!

 8.

"I have finally arrived!"

I tried to say something that was not my usual style. As for the reason as to why, well, maybe it’s because I actually didn't have a ‘style’ at all.

The sound of the air smashed and tore open and with it a helicopter appeared. Since I no longer had Borges, I didn't know the name of the model. But even if I did know it, I couldn't stop it. 

The helicopter flew in the sky and followed closely behind the car. I came out from the window and looked at it. I saw Yuika Ketouin. Her face expressionless like a noh mask, and she was holding the joystick. That octopus was also attached to her head.

“Yuika Ketouin!"

I called out, but she did not respond. Yuika, was still being controlled by the octopus that Kasamori put on her. It’s her that probably killed Hiroyuki, too. I don’t know how to feel about a sister who killed her own brother, although perhaps she simply doesn’t have free will. Having said that, maybe they aren’t siblings at all. I don't know, I don't know anything, but this kind of thing is not important to me at all. I don't need to drink Bufferin anymore. I stepped on the gas pedal and thought about going down the mountain. No matter how destroyed the roof and the mirror were from the bullets, I still continued to drive forward. 

Shinobu decides that in order to make sure a bullet doesn’t hit one of her wheels, that she would jump out of the car and escape into the forest, with the helicopter shooting indiscriminately into the leaves that covered her body.

I held my breath and stayed in the same place. The sound of the propeller and the rain of the machine gun fire gradually drifted away from me. The opportunity came, I walked out of the forest and went back to where the car was.

It’s a trap! 

The helicopter is indeed in the air at a distance, but its body is facing me.

If Yuika Ketouin were to be holding a sniper rifle and waiting for me to come out of the forest, the dot should now be aligned right in the space between my eyebrows. 

I am going to get hit.

I am going to die.

At that moment, however, I suddenly saw something fly towards the helicopter. The thing flew up with a tail-like white smoke, hit the side of the helicopter, and, at the same time, caused an explosion. 

Fireworks bloomed in the blue sky. The helicopter lost its balance and fell toward the mountains. I heard the sound of the spiral wing sweeping the trees... 

Then the explosion. 

The sleeping birds that were in the shade of the forest flew away together.

"It's over..."

I heard the voice, but I didn't see anyone. I looked to the right and then looked to the left again. When I turned to the right again, before there was no one there when I looked that way. 

Now there is a girl standing in front of me. She wore the uniform of Hope's Peak Academy and there were tight muscles on her limbs that protruded from her uniform. She gave off the impression of a female athlete. She had a pair of squinting eyes which were filled with tension.

From the 78th Class of Hope’s Peak Academy.

Mukuro Ikusaba.

Super High School Level Soldier.

Shinobu asks her what is she doing in the Czech Republic and, after a bit of banter where she reads the wrong script in front of Shinobu (which leads Shinobu to comment on how she’s cute, yet rather useless) she answers that she was hired to escort one of the Council of Global Controllers members a day or so before the World Domination proclamation. She blames herself for not being able to protect him. Having failed her mission she tried to head back to the airport but since it was blocked, and she had no money, she was forced to camp out in the forest…

“It couldn’t be helped...so I camped out here,” admitted Mukuro,  “While I was here, I also hunted down a live bear and ate it...slowly.”

“Yep...that’s...good.”

“It was indeed.”

“...”

“...”

Trying to keep the conversation going, Shinobu remarks that Japan or, to be precise, the world is in rough shape at the moment. Mukuro asks how Junko is doing and Shinobu reports about her being in Hope’s Peak and her food request, to which Mukuro takes note she’ll buy before she leaves Czech.

Shinobu asks her help to save Byakuya, but she apologies saying that she isn’t very good with improvised plans, though notes she is supposed to help her, but the plan never says to what extent (she really wishes she had her script now). To make it up to Shinobu, she fixes a tire of the car that got damaged during the machine gun attack. They then part ways, and Shinobu gets out of the mountain with the old Skoda car.

I drove forward again in the car and finally got out of the mountain. There is no problem with the tires, and it was very light to drive. After driving for a while along the river, I was able to see the restaurants in the mountains. 

Mr. Hiroyuki Ketouin. 

Who is that guy? 

From his tone, he seems to know me, but I still can't remember. Thus, the emotions of anger, sadness, and compassion, I can't fathom these.

I am empty, and I blame the K2K system that drives Borges for that. My existence is extremely ambiguous and there is no difference to that of a newborn baby. 

Yes, I am a baby. I know nothing about the world, and I don’t know anything about myself. But, because of this, I can update all of them and move forward. 

Yeah! 

I tried to make a scream that was not like my usual style. Maybe it was because I never really had my own ‘style’ at all? 

But now things have changed! 

I must rely on my own strength to create my own style!

As Shinbou glances at the hotel she and Hiroyuki were at, she whispers that Yuika should be dead as a result of Mukuro.

It feels a bit funny, the world around me is so crazy, but the craziest is myself. I can't believe in any experience of my own. It’s only now that I feel this certain type of happiness. That no matter who is accumulating the past, with this recent freedom only I can create the present.  

In the whole wide world, only I have no original. Happiness that pushes forward like a beast or a bird without being noticed by anybody and with no need to worry about anyone's evaluations.

"Yeah!"

Even if it is not like my usual style of yelling, no one will ever say again that I am not acting out of my usual style. Yes, I have been reborn!  

Even still, I must still keep going towards the place where Byakuya is kept! 

I will move towards the freedom that will aid Byakuya! 

Oh, let the engine roar loudly...and may it run all the way towards happiness!

Translation Notes:

[0] So as it turns out Haruki Murakami has also written a book called “Kafka on the Shore” which is just another connection to the ‘K’ theme. However here is a conspiracy. So in Volume one of DRT the JDC and ER3 system get mentioned as you probably don’t recall. ER3 system form Zaregoto written by Nisio Isin (which in itself heavily inspired danganronpa) and the JDC primarily written by Ryūsui Seiryōin, but also many many spin offs written by Nisio Isin and Maijo Otaro. Now the writers isin, Otaro and Sato (DRTs author) are commonly compared to each other in the japanese fiction world as there style of writing and intricate details that only work in japanese (Pure Literature as the genre is called there), we can see they share a lot of similar ideas. In fact DRT and Otaro’s Jorge Joestar are commonly compared also, (which is a JDC book with a jojo’s Bizarre Adventure spin on it). Now in “Kafka on the Shore” one of the main characters is called Johnnie Walker and in Otaro’s new anime ID: Invaded the villain is called John Walker. What has this got to do with DRT? No idea but all im saying is that if Tsukumo Juku shows up in DRT at this point I wouldn't be surprised. These writers all share a common theme of some sort of force controlling the actions of the main character and the deceptive nature of the world around them. It’s very interesting to compare and contrast all these things.

[1] The Diary of a Young Girl, also known as The Diary of Anne Frank, is a book of the writings from the Dutch language diary kept by Anne Frank while she was in hiding for two years with her family during the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands. The family was apprehended in 1944, and Anne Frank died of typhus in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in 1945. The diary was retrieved by Miep Gies, who gave it to Anne's father, Otto Frank, the family's only known survivor, just after the war was over. The diary has since been published in more than 60 languages. 

To be continued.

https://drmedicsgamesurgery.tumblr.com/GameSurgeryDRTranslations

#Danganronpa #ID:Invaded #JDC #Jorge Joestar #Danganronpa:Togami #Danganronpa: Togami #Danganronpa Togami #DRT #DRT3 #part 8 #DRT3 Summary

[alexthegamingboy]

Toonami Weekly Recap 01/04/2020

My Hero Academia Shie Hassaikai Arc Season 4 EP#70 (07) - GO!!: Izuku and Mirio overcome their heavy emotions following the meeting and past revelations, as Sir Nighteye launches the mission to save Eri and the massive raid on the Shie Hassaikai's Headquarters begins.

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind EP#08 - Sex Pistols Appears, Part 2: In a flashback, Mista is shown as a carefree young thug who discovered that bullets fired at him miss completely. Back on the island of Capri, Mista is hanging onto the truck travelling up a mountain and is confronted by Sale and his Stand, Kraft Work.[m] Sale’s Stand allows him to affix objects and people in place, which enables him to stop a bullet fired by Mista from penetrating his skull. Mista then uses his Sex Pistols to knock Sale off the truck, however, Sale catches up to Mista and hits him with one of his own bullets. Sale attempts to finish off Mista off with one final bullet, but Mista has the Sex Pistols take control of it and split it in two, deflecting a fragment to push the bullet Sale had previously stopped further into his skull. Mista then has the truck driver return him to the Marina where he enters the watch-house with the bleeding Sale. Unaware that Mista has returned to the port, Giorno forces the same truck driver back up the mountain to find Mista.

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba EP#10 - Together Forever: As Yahaba disintegrates, he continues to attack Tanjiro, determined to kill him as he dies, forcing Tanjiro to unleash move after move to lessen the impact, leaving Tanjiro utterly exhausted. Thanks to demon-only healing serum by Tamayo, Nezuko rejoins the fight against Susamaru and her strong will sharpens her strength greatly enough to kick the temari back without getting injured. At that, Tamayo steps in, and uses her Blood Demon Art to lower Susamaru's brain functions through the scent of her blood, causing Susamaru to accidentally activate the Kibutsuji curse and is killed. After the battle, Tamayo notes that the two demons were too weak to be members of the Twelve Kizuki, as the members have their number ranks engraved on their eyeballs, but takes some of Susamaru's blood nevertheless. As day breaks, Tanjiro returns Susamaru's temari to her before she disintegrates from the sunlight. Although Urokodaki has cast a spell on Nezuko to make her view humans as family and demons as enemies, Nezuko sees Tamayo and Yushiro as humans to be protected, causing Tamayo to cry out of thankfulness. The siblings soon set off southeast on their next mission, and Tanjiro sees one of those who completed Final Selection with him, Zenitsu Agatsuma, begging a distressed woman to marry him on the street.

One-Punch Man 2 EP#11 (23) - The Varieties of Pride: Death Gatling explains their reasoning to take down Garou: to earn respect from the Hero Association, who only cares about S Class and ignores the rest of the hardworking heroes, despite the amount of effort the lower heroes put in their work. Garou takes down Chain Toad, Shooter, Gun Gun, and Wildhorn. Death Gatling starts shooting at Garou, but Garou gets close to Glasses. Glasses remembers how he was looked down upon in Fubuki's group, when he was saved by Saitama in the past. Saitama tells Glasses instead of looking at his failures, he should move forward instead. Garou quickly defeats Glasses and Stinger, leaving Death Gatling the only one still standing. Death Gatling plans to use his final move, but Garou tries telling Death Gatling that there's a kid in the shed, however Death Gatling doesn't believe Garou and uses his final move: Death Shower. Garou singlehandedly redirects all the bullets elsewhere, saving Tareo. Garou defeats Death Gatling after insulting his pride, and Tareo runs away after seeing the defeated heroes. Garou tries to find a place with water, but Genos arrives thanks to Glass' signal. King barely beats Saitama in a video game match, making Saitama stressed out. King's phone vibrates, and says that Genos is at the place where the signal is located. Remembering that Genos always gets destroyed, Saitama and King start to go the location. Garou and Genos start fighting, with Genos pinning Garou to a tree with his robot hand. Genos nearly kills Garou, but Garou manages to escape and proclaims himself as the monster that no one can defeat. Genos counters that statement, saying that Saitama will always defeat any monsters because he's strong, leading Garou to ask who Saitama is. Suddenly, a group of monsters ambush Genos, but Genos swiftly kills them all, stating that he learns from his mistakes and will be stronger. Genos is about to fire at Garou once more but Bang kicks Garou in the head. Bomb arrives with Bang and kills more monsters, requesting Genos to leave Garou to Bang. As Bang and Garou get in their stances to fight, Bang remembers his first time meeting Garou.

Dr. Stone Village Origins Arc EP#17 - A Hundred Nights and a Thousand Skies: After Byakuya deduces that the phenomenon originated in South America, Shamil, Lillian and Connie venture down to the surface, but wind up in the middle of the ocean, prompting Byakuya and the others to go down and rescue them. The six begin living together on a nearby island, forming relationships and raising children together. As the crew start to gradually die from pneumonia, however, Byakuya writes down the "Hundred Tales" to pass essential knowledge down to future generations in the hope that Senku would one day be able to use them. Back in the present, Ruri takes Senku to the village cemetery where Byakuya lies, relaying Byakuya's final message to Senku that the Hundred Tales are a scientific gift for him. Afterwards, Gen warns Senku and the others that Tsukasa and his army are coming.

Fire Force Netherworld Arc EP#20 - Wearing His Pride: Lieutenant Hinawa searches the underground tunnels for Shinra. He encounters Arrow and they immediately fire at each other. Shinra finds Licht, but a White-Clad holds a knife at his throat. Shinra uses his tiger hand sign to fire a focused blast to disable the White-Clad, calling the new technique "Shinrabansho". Meanwhile, Hinawa and Arrow use their long range weapons to attack each other. Hinawa is badly hit, but he fires one last shell which finally defeats Arrow. bystanders, Yona and Mirage, approach the wounded Hinawa to kill him, but Arthur drops down from above. Mirage creates a multitude of illusions of himself to confuse Arthur, however, he uses his new training to detect the real Mirage, ignoring attack from the duplicates. He kills Mirage who is hiding in the darkness and Yona flees for his life. Elsewhere in the tunnels, Maki finds Iris and Tamaki, while Giovanni and Lisa find Vulcan and Obi. Lisa reveals that she is a Knights of the Ashen Flame and her real name is Feeler. Giovanni praises the power and knowledge of his great leader, the Evangelist, and he orders Lisa to defend him and destroy Vulcan and Obi.

Food Wars!: Shokugeki no Soma Totsuki Autumn Election Arc EP#23 - The Unfolding Individual Competition: Back in Group A, contestants are struggling to score as one of the main judges, Natsume Sendawara, keeps giving out zero scores. This streak of zeros soon breaks when Ryo Kurokiba, Alice's aide, presents a lobster curry made using a cognac base, earning 93 points. Next, Ikumi presents a Dongpo pork curry, using what she had learned from her Shokugeki with Soma to impress the judges with a complete dish and earning a score of 86. Afterwards, Ryoko presents a Dal curry made with charcoal-grilled natto and soy sauce rice malt, also scoring 86, while both Marui and Ibusaki earn 88 points with their white potage curry udon and smoked curry, respectively. Then, Akira presents his dish, which turns out to be a fragrance bomb.

Black Clover: Elf Tribe Reincarnation Arc EP#99 - The Desperate Path Toward Survival: Rhya announces to Mereoleona that their target is Asta, as his Grimoire and anti-magic swords once belonged to the real Licht. Asta tries to go back to help Mereoleona but is stopped by Zora. After a short but brutal fight Mereoleona is severely injured by Rhya and decides to use her most powerful spell, Purgatory, that engulfs the room in blue flames. The effort leaves her unable to move, and while the elves are injured, they are not defeated. The elves cast a team spell to kill her but at the last moment Asta and Zora arrive. It is shown that Asta came up with a plan for Zora to intercept the five spells with a trap that doubles the destructive power, shoot it at Asta, then deflect it back at Zora to quadruple it. The result is an explosion that allows Asta and Zora to escape with Mereoleona, however, Rhya manages to grab Asta through a portal to take him to Licht. Elsewhere, Mimosa is the only human left after Yuno, Klaus and Hamon are all possessed. Mimosa is captured before she can escape, just as Rhya drops Asta into the room. Asta is horrified to learn Yuno is also possessed and is now an enemy.

#Toonami #Toonami Weekly Recap #My Hero Academia #Shie Hassaikai Arc #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind #Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba #One Punch Man #One Punch Man 2 #Dr. Stone #Village Origins Arc #Fire Force #Netherworld Arc #Food Wars: Shokugeki no Soma #Totsuki Autumn Election #Black Clover #Elf Tribe Reincarnation Arc

[waywardbronzeandblue-blog]

They Have a Sister, You Know? (Part 1)

Remus Lupin x Reader

Word Count: 1,461

Warning(s): canon divergence, language, mention of an abusive childhood, mild violence/torture.

Series Summary: You were the youngest, and least known sibling in the Black family. And, like your brothers before you, you rebelled against your family, eventually leaving them in your wake. Luckily, as you got older, your brothers took you under their wing and held you up on your feet. Now, you fought together in the war that seemed to consume the world around you. Since jobs were out of the question, your oldest brother Sirius and his friends formed a low-key rock band, performing at small bars here and there for extra income. And, being the supportive younger sister you were, you went to the first show you could. That was where you met Remus Lupin, again. Sure, you remembered the scrawny boy from school. But, years later, he was different. He was hot.And, when the world suddenly started crumbling around you, you realized that was only one of many amazing traits the young werewolf possessed.

A/N: Here’s my first Remus x Reader series. I hope you like it. Bold words are song lyrics. Song featured in this fic is “You Don’t Belong” by Chris Daughtry. Sorry, but I don’t keep a tag list.

Sirius and Regulus Black? Yeah, I’ve heard of them. They have a sister, you know? Y/N Black. She was the youngest of the three, and from what I’ve heard, the most rebellious. Yes, even more than her infamous oldest brother. Walburga kept her on a short leash, and rarely let her leave the house as a child. When she turned eleven, she was sent off to Hogwarts like her brothers. She was only a year behind Regulus I believe, and was sorted into Ravenclaw house, much to her parent’s dismay. After Sirius ran away, she found her way out of Grimmauld Place too, for good. No one knows where the three siblings are now. I’ve heard Regulus was killed, and she may be dead too. No one really knows for sure.

You nudged Regulus and smiled. He shot you another annoyed look, which seemed to be his usual look these days, then turned back to the dark stage in front of him. It was weird being in public like this, out in the open, but it was also so nice. It had been almost two months since any of you had gone out in public to have any sort of fun. And, a rock concert was definitely your idea of fun.

“I hope Sirius falls of that stage,” you joked as you leaned towards your brother. “He’s such a dork.”

“He won’t, Y/N. Be nice,” Lily, one of your best friends growled beside you, swatting your arm. “If any of them are going to get injured, it would be James. I can’t believe they trust him with two drum sticks.” She rolled her eyes, making you laugh.

“You’ve got a point, Lils.” You turned back towards the stage waiting for your brother and his friends to come on. The four of them had formed a small band to make some extra cash when they could. Of course, everyone took extra care to make sure the Death Eaters weren’t following them. But, in the back of your mind, you knew they were never too far behind.

Marlene smacked both of her hands onto your shoulders and screamed as the stage lit up, revealing your favorite rock stars. The nearly one hundred people in the crowd clapped and cheered as James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus entered the stage.

“Oh,” you muttered as your eyes landed on your brother’s friend, Remus. It had been a while since you had seen him, at least a year or two. Hell, maybe more. Since you and Reg were almost always gone on some sort of mission nowadays, you hadn’t had much time to catch up with anyone. Most of them hadn’t changed a bit.

But, Remus had. He was taller than you remember, even taller than Sirius now. And, he had definitely filled out since school. His shoulders were wider, and he was definitely more muscular than you remembered. And, he had a noticeable, relatively new scar across his left cheek. The sight made your heart ping. But, those gorgeous green eyes were the same one you remembered from years back. Oh, and they were as magnificent as ever.

Regulus had told you during school that Remus was a werewolf. It had scared the life out of you at first. But, Remus was a sweet soul. And, from what you understood, his friends kept close watch during his transformations. After a while, you rarely thought about it.

Remus held his guitar close, which you recognized was Sirius’ spare that you stole from time to time. He approached the center mic. He sang too? Merlin. You weren’t sure you could take much more without melting.

“Oh, James, don’t twirl those!” Lily squealed to herself as she watched her husband toy with his drum sticks. “I don’t want to have to fix those glasses again!” she whined. James obviously couldn’t hear her. So, you just laughed, watching the young man you referred to as your brother-in-law tap lightly on the edge of his drums.

Your eyes scanned over the boys. Sirius tuned his deep purple guitar and Peter adjusted the strap on his tattered bass guitar. You honestly didn’t even know Peter had any musical talent.

“Hello, everyone,” Remus greeted the crowd. His voice was much deeper than you remembered, giving you chills. “And thank you for being here.” And, with that, he and Sirius started their first cords.

Remus leaned into the mic. “With time to kill and an empty tomb, I always find a way to pass the time with you.” His silky voice rolled. You nearly melted into the floor. Instead, you leaned against your older brother, who stood perfectly still. His eyes flicked over to you knowingly, but he didn’t say a word.

Sirius thrashed around, occasionally popping up in front of his own mic to sing the back up vocals. You didn’t even know your brother could sing. He certainly could, and so could Remus. Oh, so well.

“Ten feet tall and bullet proof I never thought that I had a thing to lose.” Your skin prickled as you watched the copper haired man close his eyes, getting lost in the music around him. The crowd around you responded, making you smile. But, you couldn’t take your eyes off Remus Lupin.

“They’re really good, huh?” Lily asked beside you, her voice barely audible over the music. You nodded, never shifting your gaze. She nudged you. “Y/N?” She studied you, slowly following your line of sight to the subject of your fascination. “Oh, no. Y/N, you crushing on a rock star?”

You snapped towards her. “No! They are just a lot better than I taught they would be! I had no idea they would be so put together!” you shouted as the song ended. “I thought Sirius was going to try to play something different from everyone else and try to lead the show.”

Lily shook her head. “From what little I’ve seen during their occasional practice, he’s as focused as the rest of them. They just haven’t had much time to play, with so many missions lately.” She turned back towards the stage, her eyes landing on James. “It’s a good distraction for them—”

The building around you started the shake violently. Shards from the wooden ceiling beams began to fall into the small crowd as everyone around you started to scream. Regulus grabbed your arm and tugged you towards him, reaching for his wand. You slipped yours out too and held it in front of you.

“Shit!” you screamed. “What is—Lily!” you shouted for your friend as she raced towards the stage, towards your husband. “No!” you tried to break free from his grasp and chase after her, but Regulus was bigger than you, and he was just too strong. “I need to go after her!”

“James will find her! And Marlene!” he shouted over the screams. “We need to get out of here—” Just as he turned, a dark figure stopped him dead in his tracks. “Fuck.”

You lifted your wand as turned toward your brother. The figure, cloaked in a long black robe, stared you down. The man didn’t say a word. Instead, he raised his wand to you.

“Impedimenta!” you screamed just before the man flicked his wand. His movements slowed, giving Regulus enough time to dodge out of the way. He rushed into the crowd with you following close behind.

Seconds later, your entire body exploded with intense pain. You collapsed to the concrete ground as your spine arched. A desperate shrill escaped your throat as a young woman, around your age, hovered over you, her wand dangling from her thin fingers.

“The youngest Black, filthy traitor!” you could barely hear her over the sound of your own screams. Your legs bent under you, pain still searing through every nerve. This was it; you were done for. That was what you got for going to such a public place even when hundreds of loyal Death Eaters were hunting you down every waking moment. It was about time before they found you and killed you.

“Stupefy!” You heard someone scream. A moment later, they pain began to subside, and a sigh left your lungs. You tensed as arms wrapped around you and pulled you quickly to your feet. Your blurred vision tried to focus on who was holding you up. But, you couldn’t tell.

“Reg?” you muttered to your savior.

“He’s safe. Both of your brothers are,” a familiar voice answered. You aching body tensed again, this time from shock.

“Remus,” you huffed, trying to keep up with his fast pace. But, the curse had been too much for you, and you were weak. Your head spun as you lost your footing, before finally collapsing back onto the floor.

#remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin and reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x reader series #sirius black #regulus black #lily potter #james potter #marlene mckinnon #remus lupin reader insert #marauder era fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction

[xiaomomowrites]

Sincerity That Can’t Be Given | Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Attack on Titan | Eremika

Hitman AU

I forgot to put this in the last chapter, but you can find this story here on Fanfiction.net! | {mikasa-heichou}

Summary: He rolled the cigar between his lips. It’s earthy taste stained Levi’s tongue as he shuffled through the hundred dollar bills between his calloused hands.  It was tough, Mikasa pondered, but they made it. The only thing she was left wondering now, is how long they were gonna live a life of severe crime before she could break off and live a normal life.

A/N: Okay. I know, it’s been awhile, but after chapter 112, I was just so angry at Eren I could barely edit these chapters without getting upset haha. But it wouldn’t be fair to those of you who enjoy this story to keep putting it off, so here you go. Enjoy~

Trigger warnings are inside each chapter.

-

Trigger warnings: Attempted robbery, violence and gun use.

“Are your feet okay?”

“They’re fine, Eren.”

“It’s a little more of a walk, are you sure-”

Mikasa stopped in her tracks and turned to him wordlessly. She reached out and locked her arm with his, tugging him along to prove that she was able to walk perfectly fine in her three-inch heels. She laughed inwardly at how Eren and Levi underestimated her in these shoes.

“Lead the way,” she urged him forward. With a smile, he continued.

The music that was once faded crescendoed upon their approach. The young woman immediately recognized the tunes playing; memories of her father strumming the guitar chords to artist’s song “If It Hurts Too Much, It’s Not Love” played in her mind and her heart squeezed at the memory of her father strumming and plucking to the song.

“Kim Kwang Seok,” she thought out loud, facing Eren, “you took me to Kim Kwang Seok Alley.” She said gently.

Eren nodded, “You mentioned it a couple times in the shop a while ago. I thought it’d be nice to take you to his memorial, you know, to relive the music.”

Mikasa smiled up at him and fiddled with the maroon scarf, “Thank you Eren.”

He choked. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

“I- It’s no problem.” Eren said sheepishly and tugged her along the paved road. Her eyes traced along the walls of the alley that were beautifully painted with portraits of the artist. Lights were strung up above them which illuminated every corner and offered a warm atmosphere to young musicians strumming their acoustic guitars. People on the sides of the street were singing along to a couple of his most famous songs, dancing with their significant other while their bodies intertwined lovingly with the music. Mikasa felt her curiosity heighten with every couple she saw together. She briefly wondered what it would feel like to be one of them, wondered what it would be like to wear her heart on her sleeve like a vast majority of girls her age did.

Eren, who seemed to pick up on her lingering eyes, pulled her aside on the dance floor and stepped in front of her. She looked up at him with bright gray eyes.

“Dance with me?” He held her palms gently. Mikasa stared blankly at the invitation. Bold, Jaeger.

“If you insist,” she answered with a small smile, “but I apologize in advance if I step on your feet.”

Eren chuckled but said nothing. Instead, he placed a hand on her waist and held her hand with the other. Mikasa followed him without question, for this was her first time dancing with anyone aside from her father years ago.

He began moving slowly and set the tempo with the music for the two of them. Mikasa watched curiously at their feet moving in sync, despite her stumbling here and there in the beginning.

“Are you sure this is your first dance?” He asked as they swayed to the beat, “Because you’re doing surprisingly well.”

“I guess I pick up on things fast,” Mikasa shrugged, “and I’ve danced with my dad a couple times when he was still around.”

“Oh,” Eren dropped her hand to loop both arms around her waist, “What happened? If you don't mind me asking.”

The question spiked anger throughout her body. She dug her nails into the palm of her hand, thankful that the lack of light hid her clenched jaw.

“He died in a car crash. Two years ago.” She responded icily. Mikasa smirked inwardly at his reaction. He tensed a bit; it was a miniscule reaction to the average person, but Mikasa was observing him intently. “But what about you? Where’d you learn to dance?”

“Ah, my mom taught me when I was little. I used to put my feet on top of hers and try to balance while she took lead.” He smiled sadly at the memory.

“You’re close to your mom?” She asked as they danced.

“I was. She died last year. And frankly I don’t know where my dad fucked off to after she passed.”

Mikasa hummed sympathetically. Serves you fucking right. Suffer. “I was close to my mom, too.” Her eyes did not speak, but her voice was soft.

“You lost both?” He looked at her sadly.

“Yeah. She was in the car with my dad when a drunk driver killed them both.”

Eren’s feet stuttered at the information. Her eyes narrowed, “Where did you go?” Mikasa prodded gently, the softness of her voice truly betraying the hardness of her heart. And though she already knew of the dispute going on in his head, her voice brought him back to reality. Eren released her waist solemnly and instead reached for her hand.

“Nothing, I’m sorry you had to go through that. Come on, let’s grab something to eat.”

“Yeah, let’s.” Asshole, she scowled to herself, stop playing innocent and fess up.

--

Mikasa never knew that there was so much to learn about coffee. There were things that existed such as an Affogato, which apparently was vanilla ice cream “drowned” in espresso. And then there was this thing called cold drip coffee that took way too long to make in her opinion, but she felt like Levi would enjoy himself. He was always the more patient sibling, anyway, just like their mother. Then she learned that the reason it was called a latte was because there was milk in it, and that an Americano was just a shot of espresso diluted in water. The young woman was never much of a coffee drinker, but when she helped herself to the occasional cup, it was the type that had you saying, “I think there’s coffee in your creamer.”

Long story short, she was very confused when Eren had brought her in front of the menu and she was put on the spot to choose off an elaborate menu. Thanks to her lack of practice in social situations, she was fumbling with her words and her face flushed a bright red until she tugged on Eren’s sleeve to just order for her so she could go sink into the wall by herself. Luckily Sasha, the cashier, was nice enough to explain everything with patience and got oddly riled up when she got on the topic of dipping biscuits in coffee. Mikasa concluded that maybe they could have been friends if they were given a chance in another life.

Much to her distaste, Mikasa felt her chest ease up and the muscles in her arms and legs fell lax the more time she spent with the man. He was charming, and cute, and cared about her a lot more than she had expected. Frankly, she originally thought that that the fact that Eren wears his heart on his sleeve was inevitably going to lead to his downfall by her hand. It was funny, considering when she picked him up after his shift earlier that night, Mikasa was already armed and prepared to cut his life short thirty years. But at the end of the night, the mere thought of having to put a bullet in his head made her sick, and angry with herself for a plethora of reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

So when he went to the bathroom at the quaint coffee shop nuzzled in the corner of the street, Mikasa was left alone with her problematic thoughts. She had buried her face in the palms of her hand and debated. You’re going to disappoint Levi, her brain reminded her, but are you really willing to kill off the only guy you brought yourself to care for? Mikasa, really think about this, her heart argued. While her insides whirred up in confusion and frustration, her physical body was left weak and vulnerable as she chewed on her lip and fumbled with her phone. Her brows met in the middle as she sent a quick text to her brother.

to: aniki

Finishing up coffee. Be home in thirty, probably.

But then Sasha was suddenly in front of her, setting down another cup of the vanilla latte she ordered twenty minutes ago with a sympathetic look on her soft face.

“You looked a little muddled, so I thought I’d bring you another cup, you know?” Sasha beamed and Mikasa was weirded out by how nice she was, “And don’t worry about it! It’s on the house. Just,” the brunette leaned forward, “I know a first date when I see one, and I also see the way you look at each other like he’s the sun to your moon- or whatever cheesy analogy floats your boat. It’s probably not my place to say anything, but don’t let someone like that slip away.”

Mikasa just looked at her with wide eyes and a red face. “I- uh,” the raven fumbled with the money in her wallet before shoving what she thought was the appropriate amount of money into Sasha’s smaller palm. “I know you said it’s on the house, but I want to thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate what you just said.” Also, you’re a goddess, she decided to leave out.

Sasha smiled one of the most brightest ones she’s seen in awhile and bowed, leaving her to her extra cup of coffee. Mikasa opened her messages with her brother once more after he didn’t respond and quickly typed another one.

to: aniki

Nevermind lol I got another cup

from: aniki

Good luck sleeping tonight.

Eren came back shortly after and eyed the cute latte art in front of her. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to like this place this much. Thought you weren’t that big on caffeine?” he joked. Mikasa laughed her first genuine laugh in months.

“Sasha gave it to me. She said it was on the house.” Mikasa decided not to say anything about the barista helping her decide what to do during her crisis.

“Oh, I see,” he jokingly put on a jealous face. “Did you tell her you were here with me tonight?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes, “Dork.”

By the end of the night, her heart was beating a little faster and she couldn’t tell if it was from the caffeine pumping through her system, or the fact that Eren held her hand while he walked her to the front of her hotel and was currently leaning in very very close to her face. She could feel a warm puff of air on her cheeks and her eyes fluttered shut. When he ever so gently pressed his lips against hers, Mikasa suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands and she debated pushing him away and punching him in the face, or just going with it. She ended up going with the latter.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that she didn’t know what the fuck to do. Mikasa kissed him back, obviously because she wasn’t going to let this gorgeous green eyed man go without kissing him back, but she still remained tense. Tense enough for him to notice and pull away much to her disapproval. He rested their foreheads together.

“You okay?” He asked quietly. The street around them had suddenly gotten flushed out and quiet when he looked at her like that. She almost forgot that he killed her parents.

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, “that was um, that was my first kiss.”

He grinned his usual shit eating grin and Mikasa pushed him away, red.

“Sorry, sorry,” he pecked her cheek, “You’re just too cute.” Mikasa smiled and shook her head abashedly.

“I gotta go. My brother is probably looking for me,” She rocked back and forth on her heels and Eren let go of her hands. “Goodnight, Eren.” To his surprise, she leaned up to kiss his cheek, and turned on her heel to walk into the hotel lobby.

“Mikasa?”

She turned at her name. “Eren.”

“How… how long are you staying here? Don’t you have like, a real place to stay here?”

Mikasa shook her head sadly, “No, we’re leaving in a month.” Depends on how long it takes for me to kill you.

She turned once more and walked away before she could watch his face fall.

When she entered the elevator, Mikasa couldn’t help but bury her nose into her red scarf to hide her stupid, dopey smile. But as she exited the elevator, she knew she’d get her ass whooped if Levi ever found out she had actually fallen for Eren.

--

The room is dark save for the lamp turned on by Levi’s bed. He’s sitting in bed, a plate of food in his hands as he shovels pasta in his mouth. Ungracefully he looks up from his computer after pausing his show, greeting his little sister.

“You’re back,” he nodded. Mikasa hummed quietly and set her purse down at the foot of her bed. She slipped into the bathroom to change to her pajamas. “And it’s past midnight.”

“I know,” she crammed her clothes into the bag of dirty laundry, “which is why I’m wondering why you’re eating so late. And in bed for that matter, since you’re so anal about getting food on the sheets.”

“I got home late from a hit,” he explained and took another bite, “and I’m not giving you any because that Jaeger kid was supposed to feed you.”

“He did. Though I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna be able to spend for a while after tonight.” Clad in a tank top and sweatpants, Mikasa plopped herself next to Levi and opened the laptop. “Did you know there’s so much more shit to coffee than just cream and sugar?”

“Of course, I forget how high maintenance you can be,” Levi rolled his eyes. “How was your hot date?”

“It was good,” she chirped, “he kissed me.”

“He what.”

“Eren kissed me.” Mikasa repeated, “He took me to Kim Kwang Seok Alley. I mentioned a couple times before that he was my favorite artist. And that dad played his music sometimes.”

“Oh, so now he gives a shit about our parents.” Levi quipped. Mikasa ignored him.

“We danced to ‘If It Hurts Too Much, It’s Not Love’, and then he took me to a coffee shop and we talked. When he dropped me off at the hotel, he kissed me goodbye.”

“I see you’re getting pretty smitten with him, huh,” he pried, glancing at her from the side.

“I guess so. But that’s the goal right?” She hit the spacebar and ‘Criminal Minds’ played in the back while the siblings spoke.

“It is, it is.” Levi assured, “But I would like him dead soon.”

Mikasa hummed, uncomfortable. “Maybe I should stretch it out a little more,” she suggested.

“What?”

“I mean,” the young woman tried to recover, “if I can get him to become even more attached, then it’ll hurt him more when he goes.”

Levi eyed her warily, “You know little sister,” Mikasa rolls her eyes at that, “I know when you’re lying to me.”

“I know, but good thing I’m not.” She said quietly, “You’re still trying to see through me, huh?” Levi snorted.

“Please, I don’t need to try to see through you. You’re an open book to me.” There was a slight tint of condescension in his tone and Mikasa had to bite her tongue not to talk back and start an argument. She loved her brother dearly. He was all she had left, but it became overbearing whenever he would act like this: like he knew her inside and out. Even if she told him everything, Mikasa was a reserved person and still needed to keep somethings for herself.

“Oi, Mikasa,” he nudged her out of her train of thought, “You know I trust you. I trust that you’ll do the right thing and avenge mom and dad for us. I may act like an asshole sometimes-”

“Sometimes?”

“But,” he dismissed her shot at him, “I do this because I care about you. Our jobs are not easy, and every day we work we put our lives on the line. You’re strong, but you’re not immortal. And I’m not about to lose my only sister. If that Eren kid ever tries anything-”

Mikasa clicked her tongue in annoyance and payfully shoved him away, “I know, I know, I can take care of myself.” She laughed, and let her head rest on her brother’s shoulder, “Thank you, Aniki.”

He said nothing, only lifting a hand to ruffle her hair the way he always did.

“Hey.” She interrupted the show, “Do you think we’ll get caught like that one day?”

“Hm. Maybe,” he admitted, earning a look from Mikasa, “Relax, Fritz always finds a way to cover it up, make it look like an accident or whatever. Truthfully I don’t know what the hell that old man does behind his desk.”

“Yeah. That man smokes so much even I can almost taste the phlegm in his lungs.” Levi scoffed at that, “Speaking of which, how did work go? Erwin, right?”

The older man groaned at the sound of his name, “Yeah, it was alright. I sniped him from a skyscraper across from his hotel. He was a handsome son of a bitch, such a shame he had to die. It makes me wonder what he did to piss off Fritz.”

She fidgeted with the hem of her tank and bit the inside of her lip, “We all have our secrets.”

--

It was cold. Without her scarf, at least, the past couple of weeks she had gotten used to the fabric wrapped comfortably around her neck. Mikasa laid on her stomach at the top of the building perpendicular to Eren’s shop with Levi’s sniper rifle snugly pressed against her shoulder. The young woman had a clear shot of him from where she was settled. She looked through the scope and took a deep breath when the center was aligned with Eren’s head. Her forefinger danced around the trigger flexing and then relaxing when she felt the tension build up and almost sent a bullet flying. Mikasa inhaled long and exhaled slowly. She could end this right now. She could send the thick bullet through his skull and no one would even find out. Hell, Levi didn’t even know she came out here in broad daylight. Mikasa was sent to kill him, and that’s exactly what she was going to do. Because fuck emotions, right? They were useless.

The young woman sucked her bottom lip under her teeth and bit down. You follow orders, Mikasa, don’t stop anytime soon. She scoffed and berated herself for her reluctance.

It became increasingly harder to grip the rifle within her calloused hands and her fingers were way too fidgety to execute this properly. She shifted the butt of the rifle to press more against her shoulder, and squeezed the grip harder nonetheless and pressed her index against the trigger. Mikasa pulled the trigger further and further until she imagined it could snap- and then stopped.

She let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding and tore her eyes away from her target, her hands losing their death grip completely as her forehead dropped to the butt of the gun.

Mikasa could end this now and avenge her parents, even make her brother proud. But at what cost? She’d lose any possible feeling in her heart she had somehow managed to salvage the past few weeks and live her life wondering if she could ever return to the life she dreamed of as a child.

Okay, maybe feelings weren’t all that useless.

“Fuck.” Mikasa grit out and brought herself back up to a sitting position. She unscrewed the silencer and detached the loaded magazine. Flipping the safety switch on, she placed the rifle back in its case and slammed it shut, looking at the sleek black material with a lingering thought. With a final shake of her head, she climbed down the side of the building and made her way back to her hotel.

--

She paid him a visit that night. When she told Levi about her whereabouts, he gave the universal grunt of approval that sent her out the door.

“Hey stranger,” he smiled brightly, “you come here often?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I have a really clingy friend who works here and always asks me over.”

Eren feigned offense. “Friend?” Mikasa walked behind him and squeezed his shoulder.

“We’re working out a label,” she retorted and plopped down onto the stool Mikasa always sat in when she was there.

Mikasa would be lying if she said it felt awkward between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was an elephant in the room. They haven’t spoken ever since the kiss, and the fact that she was only staying in Daegu for a short amount of time lingered in the air. It’s been two whole days, and frankly Eren would have thought Mikasa ditched him if another day went by without a word from her.

“Everything okay?” His question cut through the silence. Mikasa hummed in response, but he wasn’t convinced. “Something’s on your mind. Is that why you haven’t been responding to my texts…?” The brunet leaned forward on the counter, nodding a hello to a customer that came in.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I’m not a great texter. I’m better in person,” She chuckled at the misunderstanding. Mikasa’s eyes darted towards the person clad in all black that had walked in not long ago. Her eyes narrowed at his hunched shoulders, bowed head, hands stuffed into his pocket; she knew that body language all too well. Mikasa’s seen it in her bathroom mirror far too many times.

Something’s in his pockets. He’s avoiding the cameras, and he’s been standing still in that aisle too long to actually be interested in purchasing something. Mikasa felt herself twitch when the masked man shifted his hand, seemingly gripping something tighter. She stood up suddenly and Eren was taken aback when she stood to her full height without any warning. Granted she was still shorter than him, but that didn’t mean her aura wasn’t terrifying on its own.

“Mikasa?” His eyes followed her line of sight towards the figure walking towards them now. Her gaze hardened. If looks could kill, the man would have dropped dead already. Don’t touch him.

“Eren.” she shifted closer to him, placing her hands on his hips that had him spluttering a combination of “what are you doing” and “here?”. Mikasa managed to press his back to the wall with hers facing the potential danger.

The click of a gun caught her attention and Eren felt himself freeze as if he were a deer in headlights. Slowly, Mikasa turned around to face the gunman.

It took everything in her not to scoff. The man held the gun sideways, his grip crooked and elbow slightly bent. She had to give it to him, though, he had quite the intimidating face.

“Listen, honey. As cute as you are, I won’t hesitate to pull this trigger.” He swept his gun to the side in an attempt to get Mikasa to move over so he could point the muzzle at Eren. She didn’t budge, and he was losing patience. “Give me your fucking money!” He bellowed, and Mikasa would have been intimidated if she hadn’t already dealt with this level of immaturity.

“Are you kidding me.” Her eyes would have rolled to the back of her head if she hadn’t felt Eren move out from behind her. He stepped boldly in front of her, his right arm sticking out to hopefully shield her from danger.

“Mikasa, stay behind me.”

She looked down at his arm with disdain and raised an eyebrow.

“You guys are cute. But if you don’t empty out that cash register in ten seconds then you’ll have to watch me blow a bullet in your girlfriend’s brain.”

“Listen, man, there’s no money in the register. The day just started-”

“I don’t need to hear your bullshit excuses!” The gunman straightened his grip to a proper position and Mikasa stiffened. She’ll step in when she needed to. She’d let him play hero for a bit. “Open the fucking register!” He pressed the barrel against Eren’s forehead. Anger flashed in the brunet’s eyes.

“Okay.” He slowly put his hands up, making his way around Mikasa and over to the much-desired register. “Relax, I’ll get you your money.”

Mikasa sighed, watching him with wary eyes. She knew what he was going to do. Eren was going to say he’d get him the money, then reach for the broom last minute and try to hit the gun out of his hands. If this guy is an amateur like I suspect, he’d panic and pull the trigger before Eren could even grab the broom. Eren would be critically injured, if not dead, and he can’t afford that. But, if this guy has more experience than I give him credit for, he’d shoot me first and have Eren watch me die before shooting him and running off with whatever money was in the register. Mikasa carefully calculated the situation in her head and evaluated her options before jumping into action. No. Eren has to be my kill, not yours.

Eren did exactly what she thought he’d do. The brunet hit the masked man in the arm, taking the barrel away from his face but unfortunately not out of his hand. The intruder scoffed angrily and pointed the gun at Eren once again after regaining his lazy composure. Fortunately, however, the gunman was even more of an amateur than she expected, and fumbled with the gun before realizing that the safety was on.

Mikasa bit back a laugh before walking in front of the gun. Eren called out her name from behind her but she said nothing, merely slapping the gun out of his hands by swatting the inside of his forearm and the back of the gunman’s hand in opposite directions. She twisted the firearm until it was snug in her hand, bringing a knee up to the man’s gut and watched him keel over in surprise. Mikasa brought the butt of the gun down to the juncture of his neck and shoulder and he cried out in pain.

She gripped the gun firmly in her right hand and switched the safety off, pointing it towards the former gunman. “Get out, idiot.”

The said man was scrambling to his feet and out the door within seconds of hearing her voice.

When it was just Eren and Mikasa again, she glanced down at the gun. It was a simple gun, a Ruger SR22. It’s size wasn’t too intimidating but a bullet is a bullet nonetheless. She released the magazine and saw that it was only halfway full with five bullets loaded. She clicked her tongue in annoyance and turned to face Eren, who was still too shell-shocked to say anything.

“So the idiot’s lack of gun knowledge just saved your life. If he had known to turn off safety then he could have killed you before I stepped in.”

Eren’s brain short-circuited before he began scolding her for her “reckless behavior”.

She stood there and took it as he went on a tangent, yelling various forms of “I can’t lose you” and “You could have died, idiot!”

“Eren,” she sighed, exasperated, “I’m fine. You’re the one he was threatening, anyway. Besides, I’m a trained martial artist. I’ve been training with my brother since we were little, I think I know how to handle situations like that.”

“Okay, but still!” Eren threw his hands up in the air, “You could have told me beforehand you’re trained. You scared the shit out of me, throwing yourself in front of a gun like that! Don’t pull that shit, Mikasa, don’t put your life on the line for me.”

Mikasa almost laughed at the irony of the situation. The only reason she saved his life is because she wanted the kill for herself later. Maybe. Once she got over her stupid feelings, perhaps. “Okay, yes. If it eases your anxiety then you have my word.” The young woman placed the gun on the counter, this time intentionally putting the safety on, before sliding it over to him. “But look, at least you have a gun now! Use it to protect this place, or whatever you macho men do.”

“Macho,” he repeated, “you’re the one who saved my ass, Mikasa.”

“Yeah, and it might not be the last time.” She teased, smiling when he turned red and frowned.

“Anyway,” Eren sighed and placed the gun in the drawer under the cash register, “there’s this festival coming up that I’ve been meaning to go to for the longest time but never had money for it. I managed to save up some luxury money for it and I’d love it if you went with me.”

Mikasa snorted. “Eren Jaeger, are you asking me out on another date?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

She sighed, defeated. “Yeah. When is it?” Mikasa took a step forward and looped her arms around his neck, catching him by surprise.

“September 22, the end of this month,” his hands fell on her hips, “will you still be here then?”

Her mind jumped to her mission at the question.

If I go to this festival to him, I can pull him aside somewhere dark. We’ll talk, and I’ll have him dance with me. I can kill him then, and then go home. Miserable, but I can go home.

Her stomach churned at the thought nonetheless. She loved the guy, she really did. It sucked ass that she has to kill him. For a moment, Mikasa thought what would happen if she dropped everything, including the mission, and ran off with Eren.

“Mikasa?” He squeezed her side to bring her back to attention.

“Hm?”

“Will you still be in town by the end of this month?” He raised an eyebrow at the subtle shift in her attitude. She went from quirky and cute to distant and dull.

Mikasa let out a fake smile. “Yeah. Yeah I’ll still be here by then. I think I’m leaving the day after, actually.”

“Oh,” his face fell, and she shuffled a little closer to him, “okay.”

“Try not to look so disappointed. It won’t be the last time we hang out, I promise.” she lied through her teeth and suddenly she almost felt her breakfast come back up. “I have to go. I’ll swing by after your shift and we can grab dinner, yeah?”

Mikasa cupped the back of his head affectionately. For a woman who killed men for a living, she was getting the hang of this whole “I kinda like you” shit.

Eren grinned his signature shit-eating grin. “Mikasa Ackerman, are you asking me on a second date?”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes with a laugh. Mikasa pulled him down for a brief moment to press her lips against his. It lingered a second too long as if it were an apology, an ‘I’m sorry for lying to you.’ but she pulled away before the kiss would spill her entire story. The raven haired woman pulled herself from Eren’s hold and squeezed his hand. “I’ll see you later.”

--

True to her word, she showed up again after his shift in a simple knitted white turtleneck hanging over a tight black velvet skirt that stopped mid thigh; black heeled boots hugged her legs all the way up to her knees but showed enough skin to leave the rest to his imagination. Mikasa ran a hand through her long braided hair draped across one shoulder and smiled at him expectantly.

“You ready?” His shoulders slumped.

“Mikasaaa,” he whined, “you’re all dressed up and I look so sloppy. Are you taking me somewhere fancy because my wallet is more of a McDonald’s enthusiast.”

“Eren,” she laughed and rolled her eyes at the mention of his wallet, “you look fine. You kinda look like a dad with that shirt tucked into those jeans but it’s not bad at all!” She waved him off jokingly, “I’m covering dinner tonight, don’t worry about it.”

Twenty minutes later they sat down at some fancy noodle house by the music alley they went down the other day. Eren had seen it many times before but never bothered to go inside, thinking it would hurt his bank account just by walking in.

A young waiter with kind eyes who went by the name Marco came by soon after they were seated with a plate of various appetizers and glasses.

“Can I get you two anything to drink?”

Mikasa smiled with her chin in the palm of her hands. “We’ll have a bottle of Columbia Crest Cabernet Sauvignon.”

“Absolutely. That’ll be right out.” And Marco was off.

Eren gawked at her. “I have no idea what any of those words meant but it sounded extremely expensive. I mean- sitting here alone is expensive- plus a tip! What… what do you work as? As a nineteen year old, too… Only thing that comes to mind is being a stripper.”

Mikasa raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, exactly that.”

The gears in Eren’s brain sputtered, “Wait, really?!”

She chuckled and shook her head, “Sarcasm, sweetie.”

“Oh, that’s… comforting? I guess,” Eren leaned back in his seat, “so what do you work as? Think I’m qualified for a job as well-paying as that?”  

She popped a calamari in her mouth and smiled. “Please.”

He looked at her, confused, before Marco came in between them. He smiled wordlessly and began filling their glasses before hastily taking the rest of their order. Which, had Eren still in disbelief at the amount of money she was spending. Marco bowed and left with a signature “The food will be out shortly,” and left the wine bottle on the side.

“Loosen up, Eren. Don’t worry so much about money right now.” Mikasa cupped the glass from the bottom with the palm of her hand and tipped it back.

Eren opened his mouth to respond when another voice interrupted.

“Mikasa?”

Her head whipped towards the direction of the voice. There Levi stood by their table, forcing a smile and nodding a greeting towards Eren before turning his attention to his sister.

“Aniki, what are you doing here?” She frowned.

“I don’t even get an introduction?” He imitated her face.

Eren’s eyes darted between their identical frowns. Wow, it was almost like they were related.

Mikasa huffed and straightened up. “Levi, this is Eren, the guy I’ve been telling you about for a while. Eren, this is my brother, Levi.”

She watched with pain in her eyes as Levi shook Eren’s hand with unnecessary strength that had the younger man flinching away.

“Good to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“U-uh. You, too, sir.” Eren spluttered. Levi’s intimidating gaze down towards him nearly had him choking.

Mikasa cringed. She knew how much Levi didn’t like being called ‘sir’ and before he could say anything- because she saw his posture change and his face morph- she spoke up once again.

“Levi, what are you doing here?” she repeated.

“I’m here with a client.” He answered, glancing towards a table with a single woman sitting in it. She had a pixie cut; blonde hair tickling the back of her neck while she angrily spoke into the phone. Her sharp nose and glinting blue eyes matched her pricey way of dressing. She had sharp shoulders and a dramatic dip in her collarbone. Her long, pale legs that were crossed under the table ended at black stilettos. Mikasa slightly heard her conversation from where she sat, “Mike, you idiot, you had one job!”

Mikasa let out a small smirk. She knew an undercover agent when she saw one.

“So, Eren, have my sister back at the hotel by ten.” And Eren was ready to fiercely nod his head yes and apologize- frankly, he didn’t even know what for- but Mikasa quickly showed distaste at the curfew by shaking her head aggressively.

“That’s too early, the agreement is always midnight.”

Levi cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry, I didn’t know you had any other plans for tonight.” His eyes darted between the two. He lingered at the table and Mikasa wanted to ask ‘why are you still here’ but of course, he had to open his mouth once again.

“So how long have you two been having sex?”

This time, Eren really did choke.

Mikasa blanked. Too many emotions ran through her right now for her to choose one to act on.

“I don’t understand the question.”

“We-we’re not- we’re not having sex, Levi! Uh. Sir.  Uh. Mr. Ackerman?” Eren flailed his arms around.

Jesus, Mikasa wanted to sink into the wall. Levi wanted to laugh at how submissive he was being. He almost understood why Mikasa wanted to draw this out so long; Eren was kind of a pathetic thing in his eyes.

“Just Levi is fine, Eren. Mr. Ackerman was my father.” The use of past tense didn’t slip by the younger male.

“Levi. We’ve just been going on dates. Now go meet with your client. Please.” There was a look in her eyes that Levi was able to read, and Mikasa thanked the gods for their weird telepathic abilities.

“Fine. Midnight. I’ll see you then.”

The older Ackerman walked away and Mikasa let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding.

“God, I’m so sorry, Eren. He’s like that sometimes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed her apology, heartbeat returning to a normal, healthier pace, “he’s protective. I get that. He takes care of you when I can’t.”

His response left Mikasa wordless, so she smiled fondly at him instead. “Thank you.”

“He’s scary as shit, though.” Mikasa laughed.

Marco had to butt in one more time with their dishes and set them in front of them accordingly, offering any more of his service before he was dismissed one more time. Mikasa sighed and made brief eye contact with Levi. His gaze was hard, almost unreadable, but Mikasa sent a transparent look that said “Just trust me.”

Eren hummed in delight at the sight of the food and spread out his napkin across his lap.

“Let’s eat?”

A/N: Yessss chapter three is done. My favorite chapter so far. Two more to go! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Leave me some love in the reviews~

#aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #eremika #eremika fanfic #fanfiction #snk #fanfic #hitman au #Mikasa #Mikasa Ackerman #levi #levi ackerman #eren #eren jeager #stcbg

[theculturedmarxist]

What happened to back in the day when the left and right didn’t hate each other over differing opinions. Now people are scared to express their views because the left tells us what is and isn’t okay to talk about.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seeberville_Murders

The Seeberville Murders, also less commonly referred to as the Seeberville Affair or the Seeberville Massacre, were the shooting deaths of striking miners Steven "Steve" Putrich and Alois "Louis" Tijan on August 14, 1913, by a group of strikebreakers in Seeberville, Michigan, a suburb of Painesdale. The murders took place during the bitter Copper Country Strike of 1913–1914, one of the United States of America's most violent labor strikes, and are considered among historians as the first real casualties of the strike.

 The Putrich boardinghouse, where the Seeberville Murders occurred, photographed in Seeberville, Michigan, on in August 1913.

The deaths were especially significant considering that a local doctor classified the death of Steven Putrich as homicide. In addition to this interpreters were brought in during the Seeberville trials and the coroner's inquest, whereas after the Italian Hall Disaster the government would refuse to use any interpreters whatsoever.[1][2][3]

On Thursday, August 14, 1913, two striking miners of Croatian descent, Ivan Kalan and Ivan Stimac, went to South Range, Michigan, along with a group of other strikers to collect strike benefits. There they discovered that there were no benefits for them as the Western Federation of Miners could not fully fund a strike of this size. After having a drink, they headed back to their homes in Seeberville. As they passed through Painesdale, Kalan and Stimac went into a store to buy some soda pop; the rest of the group continued on without them. After finishing their pop, Kalan and Stimac continued on towards Seeberville. They decided to take a shortcut to Seeberville from Painesdale that cut across mining company property.[2][3][4]

On the last leg of their trip they heard a man yelling from behind them. This man turned out to be a trammer[clarification needed] boss by the name of Humphrey Quick, who had been directed by his boss, William H. Schacht, to patrol the path and ensure that no one crossed this path. Quick told the two men, in English, that they could not cross this path. Kalan and Stimac were Croatian and Kalan spoke very little English. Stimac spoke almost no English. Kalan answered in broken English that they had always crossed this path before. Quick responded by taking out his billy club and angrily waving it in their faces, threatening to beat them with it if they did not comply. The two men simply responded as they had before and continued on walking.[2][3]

It was at this point that Quick claimed that Kalan turned around as he continued walking away, raised his fist and shook it, saying, "You better watch out you son-of-a-bitch. I fix you for sure." At the time this happened Kalan and Stimac were about a hundred feet away. They then disappeared toward their boardinghouse in Seeberville.[2][3] Quick then went to his supervisor, William H. Schacht, a German immigrant. On his way he encountered a man named Thomas Raleigh, a strikebreaker with a reputation for violence. Once Raleigh heard Quick's story he got excited; Raleigh insisted that they go find Quick's supervisor and obtain permission to go after Kalan and Stimac. Quick and Raleigh told Schacht of the encounter. Schacht told Quick and Raleigh to go retrieve the two men and bring them to him so he could talk to them and explain the issue about the use of company property during the strike. Schacht understood that the issue at hand was a communication problem. Everyone involved in the conversation recalled that Schacht told them to, "Bring them down here and I'll talk to them."[2][3][4]

From the captain's house, Quick and Raleigh made their way towards Seeberville, Michigan. On their way to the community, a few more men joined their group; some were Waddell-Mahon strikebreakers who had been deputized and others were locals who were not on strike.[2][3]

When the mob arrived at the boardinghouse, Raleigh asked Quick to point out Kalan to him. Quick located Kalan near a group of men who were playing a lawn bowling game in the side yard next to the Putrich boardinghouse. Kalan was not playing the game, he had just finished his dinner and had come outside to chew some tobacco. Other neighbors were present at the scene. Raleigh shouted at Kalan something to the effect of "I want you." Kalan yelled back, "No. You can't take me." Strikebreakers began beating Kalan and anyone else nearby with their billy clubs and their fists. Stimac — the other individual whom they were searching for — was still inside the boardinghouse, finishing his supper. Kalan managed to get away from the strikebreakers and get inside the boardinghouse. James jumped the fence sometime between the initial assault on Kalan and the moment Kalan entered the boardinghouse. Joseph Putrich, the landlord, told the gunmen that he "didn't want any trouble" around his house. The landlord's brother, Steven "Steve" Putrich, had come out into the yard when the mayhem began. Someone threw something toward the gunmen. It did not hit anyone, however it scared Cooper who was still wielding his firearm. Cooper was between the boarders and the boardinghouse; he was outnumbered and alone. The rest of the gunmen had returned to the street and were beyond the fence, outside the borders of the side yard. Then, a stick was thrown at Cooper and hit him in the head.[2][3]

Cooper panicked; he turned and simply shot the first person he saw. A bullet hit Steven Putrich in the abdomen; Putrich had nothing to do with the incident on the trail that day, he was simply the brother of the landlord. He had now been fatally shot by Cooper. The other gunmen then reacted by rushing back into the yard, surrounding the boardinghouse, and firing their guns into it. Meanwhile, Joseph Putrich's spouse, Antonia, rushed with their seven-month-old daughter from the dining room through the kitchen and out behind the line of men firing through their windows. As she leaped from the shed, powder from a gun fired close by blackened and burned her baby's face. Her three and four-year-old children remained in the dining room.[2][3][4][5]

Cooper then chased Kalan into the house and continued shooting all the way. Once Cooper opened fire, the hired girl, Josephine Grubetich, abandoned her dishwashing and ran through the dining room into the master bedroom. She saw both rooms filled to the brim with smoke, heard the shouting, and paused between the two rooms. Cooper emptied his gun, firing into the kitchen in the back of the house into the front rooms of the house. According to Rebels on the Range: The Michigan Copper Miners' Strike of 1913-1914 (1984) by Arthur W. Thurner,

"Albert Tijan, at the first rough handling of Kalan in the yard, jumped through a window; he ran upstairs to the boarders' bedrooms, then down again, in time to witness the men, guns drawn, at the windows and Josephine and the children running into the dining room. He returned upstairs. As he ran, he heard one shot, then the fusillade. Moments later, his 18-year-old brother Alois came up and collapsed in his arms, saying, 'Brother, they killed me.' He had been shot as he reached the foot of the stairs. Albert placed Alois who indicated he had been hit on his left side on one of the beds. He pulled up his brother's shirt and talked to him but got no response. Antonia Putrich, after turning about excitedly on the road outside, oblivious to neighbor Lisa Mutka's beckoning her to take shelter across the road, waited until she saw the deputies walk away. Steve Putrich remained in the yard until Cooper came out of the shed. One of the Italian neighbors saw him grow pale and limber, then walk into the house. When Mrs. Putrich reentered, she found him mortally wounded, standing in the kitchen. 'I am shot', he told her, 'and if anything happens to me, send my money to my children.' He was taken upstairs."[4]

At the bottom of the staircase lay Stanko Stepich, with his feet in the dining room. He had been shot in the arm, and then, as he started to run upstairs, was shot in the back. He attempted to climb on his hands and knees but had slipped down onto a little landing at the bottom of the staircase. Joseph Putrich heard Stepich moaning, "They killed me, they killed me," but he did not stop to examine him. Putrich moved up the narrow stairs. Alois Tijan, dying, blood trickling from his mouth, muttered, "Uncle, take off my shoes." Steven Putrich cried to his sibling Joseph from the other bed, "Oh, brother, they shot me too", and he pointed to his bleeding stomach. Joseph Putrich rushed over to a nearby store and telephoned a doctor. Josephine, coming upstairs where she saw Alois Tijan dead and Steven Putrich dying, went downstairs at once "to get a candle for the man who was dying."[4][5]

Once the shooting ceased, Ivan Stimac fled from the boardinghouse. Caught in the barrage of bullets in the dining room, he had been hit in the side. The pain was keen, but he ran upstairs, stumbling over the body of Stanko Stepich and thinking, "Gee, they killed him." He saw the Tijan brothers, one dying, the other lamenting. He panicked, grabbed his coat, dashed out of the boardinghouse, and "ran up in the bush." He stayed in the woods until dark, then went to the house of a friend, Frank Stiglich, and spent the night. Once the doctor arrived he soon realized that there was little he could do for Tijan except make him comfortable as he lay dying. He also could do nothing to aid Steven Putrich at the house, but thought there was hope if they could manage to get him to the mine hospital in Trimountain, another small mining town just up the road from Seeberville. Putrich would make it to the mining company hospital but would die the next day thereafter. According to Steven Lehto's 2013 book, Death's Door: The Truth Behind the Italian Hall Disaster and the Strike of 1913: "His death was is remarkable for at least one reason: Of all the death certificates for people killed by strike violence in 1913, including the 73 victims at the Italian Hall, his was the only one which indicated a cause of death. The attending doctor -- not the coroner -- deemed his death 'homicidal' in nature."[1][2][3]

After the group ran out of ammunition, they began to tamper with the crime scene and plant evidence to make it appear as if the battle had been two-sided. According to Lehto, "After the gunmen who fired their guns ran out of ammunition, they paused and walked out to the road in front of the house. ... Several witnesses would later testify [that] they saw the gunmen casually walk out to the road and reload their guns -- just in case they needed to do some more shooting -- and then they started gathering rocks, bottles and sticks and throwing them into the yard." Lehto asserts that a police officer would have taken steps to preserve the crime scene at least until an investigation had been completed instead of fabricating evidence to support their position. The gunmen subsequently began to dump spent shells from their guns into the dirt. Later, children came by and picked up the shells. Lehto notes that an actual police officer would have removed them from their guns and saved them as evidence rather than disposing of them immediately. Lehto concludes that these actions were performed because the gunmen knew that the evidence had made them look bad.[2][3][4]

Lehto continues, "Thomas Raleigh and the gunmen started walking casually away from the house they had just shot up. Raleigh and his band of accomplices did not bother to call the police. After they traveled a little distance from the yard they realized they were in a pickle. Not worrying about whether any of the men in the house needed medical attention, Raleigh instructed the other gunmen to accompany him back to the house to conduct a search; he did not bother to call the sheriff or a doctor in the meantime. ... Less than a half-hour from when they had emptied their guns into the house, Raleigh and the five others were still willing to pretend they were police officers. With their guns drawn, they went back into the boardinghouse and demanded the tenants show them their weapons. The boarders denied having any. Not believing them, Raleigh and the others tore the house apart looking for weapons. They found none."[citation needed] As the gunmen ransacked the boardinghouse, they noticed that some of the neighbors had come over to aid the victims. The gunmen found this most troubling; the neighbors became potential witnesses and so far, the circumstances of the situation were developing in such a manner that did not benefit the gunmen to any extent. A neighbor named Peter Klobacher testified that as he was coming downstairs from visiting the wounded and dying upstairs at the Putrich boardingouse, Cooper "chased me out of the house."[2][3]

After searching the house only to find that the boarders were telling the truth, that there were no weapons, Raleigh walked around the front yard of the home. Whenever someone came by to see what the excitement was, he would shoo them away. At least one witness later testified that Raleigh walked over to him and pointed his gun at him saying something to the effect of, "You'd better leave unless you want me to shoot you, too."[2][3][4]

Once Stimac had returned to the Putrich boardinghouse the next morning, he was arrested by Harry James and taken to the hospital. During the scuffle in the side yard, the attackers had hit Kalan in the head with a billy club several times; as a result, Kalan was dazed. He somehow managed to get away from the deputies and into the boardinghouse, but there he found himself in the crossfire of the strikebreakers and guards firing from inside the boardinghouse and through the windows of the boardinghouse. Once the continuous firing ceased and the situation settled a bit, Kalan went outside and saw them taking away Steven Putrich, who was near death. Some of the gunmen then recognized Kalan as being one of the men whom they were searching for earlier in the day so they promptly grabbed him. Because they had no warrant for his arrest and they were not police officers, they hauled him over to the mining company office and instructed him to wait there while they figured out what to do with him.[2][3]

According to Lehto, "When the men took Kalan into custody, he was not being arrested. He was being kidnapped. The strikebreakers dragged Kalan to the mine office, assuming that they could then get him handed over to a friendly law enforcement officer, with the help of mine managers. While Kalan sat in the office waiting to see where he would get dragged next, a deputy came by and spit on him. After an hour and a half, they then took him to Houghton, to see if they could get him arrested for something. They did not bother to see if he needed medical attention even though he had been hit in the head repeatedly with clubs and fists. The next day, Quick filed a formal complaint ... After he did that, warrants were issued for the arrests of Kalan and Stimac. The warrants were issued after Kalan was kidnapped. It is unclear if the warrant for Stimac was issued before or after he was taken into custody. In either case, the eventual arrests of Kalan and Stimac was [sic] highly irregular and probably illegal."[2][3]

Anthony Lucas, the prosecutor for Houghton County, paid a visit to the shot-up boardinghouse and instantaneously deemed that the shootings were murders. He requested that Houghton County Sheriff James A. Cruse arrest all six of the men who had gone to the house to get Kalan and Stimac. Cruse promptly refused and instead arrested Kalan. The men whom Lucas desired to be arrested for the shootings became the star witnesses of the case against Kalan. The arrest warrants for Kalan and Stimac were issued on August 15, 1913; however, it is unclear if they were signed by the magistrate before or after Stimac was taken by Harry James. The arrests of Kalan and Stimac took place sometime between August 14 and August 16, 1913. James took Stimac to the hospital first to get his gunshot wound attended to by someone with medical expertise.[2][3]

The next morning thereafter the shooting, Steven Putrich died within the Copper Range Hospital at nearby Trimountain. On Saturday, August 15, officials questioned, at a hearing, members of the Putrich household—Joseph Putrich, Albert Tijan, Josephine Grubetich, Ivan Kalan's 18-year-old son Slave, three unnamed neighbors of the Putrichs, and Quick, Cooper, Raleigh, James and Polkinghorne. Judge Alfred J. Murphy, Houghton County Sheriff James A. Cruse, and Houghton County Prosecutor Anthony Lucas, began their own independent investigations into the massacre. Lucas, after paying a visit to the scene and interrogating witnesses, called upon Cruse to deprive the two deputies and four Waddell men of their stars and place them under arrest. He denounced the shooting as wanton murder -- "a shameful affair ... entirely uncalled for." Cruse countered with doubt as to whether Lucas had any authority in the case and said that he would get legal advice about that.[6][7][8][9][10]

On Sunday, August 16, at 11 a.m., a special funeral train left the Copper Range depot at Painesdale. It stopped on its journey north to Red Jacket to pick up mourners from South Range, Atlantic Mine, Houghton, Hancock, Dollar Bay, Hubbell, and Lake Linden. At Red Jacket, passengers formed a procession with thousands of others who met first in the early afternoon at the Palestra and then marched to the funeral conducted by Father Medin at the Croatian Roman Catholic church of St. John the Baptist. The Finnish Hamu Band led the procession to Lake View Cemetery two miles away. Many carried boughs and wreaths of evergreen, women and girls bouquets of wildflowers. Numerous strikers carried American flags, draped with black. Others carried signs which read "In memory of our murdered brothers," "Our Lord said: Do not take what you cannot give" and "Give not thy boughs of cedar; give back my life, oh thugs."[4][11][12][13]

The solemn funeral was a massive demonstration of striker solidarity; about five-thousand individuals participated and the strike leaders addressed the mourners after the religious graveside ceremonies. Joseph Cannon, a prominent WFM organizer, declared that the "crime" for which the strikers' two brothers had been struck down was trying to bargain collectively with their employers. Tijan and Steven Putrich had come from the Balkans where Turks and Hapsburgs oppressed the people, he said, but in northern Michigan, "there is the sultan of industry and his countless satraps". He termed the Hapsburg tyranny mild compared to that exercised by the corporations in Michigan.[6] Cannon attacked Governor Ferris "as an accessory before the fact of this lamentable double murder" and Sheriff Cruse whose "hands dripped with blood." He accused the corporation-controlled press of assisting in the murders by falsifying facts and perverting the truth. He lashed out at the mine owners: "Boston coppers, long have you boasted of your mines of wealth untold. Long have you grown fat by keeping us lean." He accused the state of Michigan and the nation of having "failed to protect us in our peaceful efforts to obtain the merited better conditions ... While we should always strive for peaceful means" and avoid trouble and violence, he also declared "there are times when it is hard, times like this when every pulse-beat cries out for action and retaliation ... but, friends, let us control ourselves and endeavor to prevent the threatened violence." But, he added, "let us also determine to bring into being a condition of society under which there shall be no incentive for more, hireling or otherwise, to take the life of his fellows."[4]

On Friday night, August 14, a large number of strikers and sympathizers gathered at the Kansankoti Hall in Hancock. They adopted resolutions hotly denouncing the Waddell  men who had taken the lives of "two honest workmen, murdering them in cold blood" and expressing shock that the Houghton County Board of Supervisors had approved the sheriff's hiring of the Waddell men. Laura Cannon, a reporter for the Miners' Magazine, said that as of August 16, 1913, "the excitement runs high and nervous tension is keen, a reign of terror prevails throughout the district."[4][9][14][15][16]

#Seeberville #michigan #murder #class warfare #capitalism #labor history #leftism #american history #us history #corporate media #strikers #strikes #communism #organize #iww

[jacobbigdickseed]

i had an idea of what would happen if the deputy just took john to the ground instead of shooting him down and killing him, so this is what happens after I guess.

posted on ao3 as well 

there’s a read more, i promise, if it doesn’t show up on mobile i cannot apologize enough lmao

Fields of Holland Valley rolled passed, the truck going fast enough to blur them together so  they were more like smudges of browns and greens. Rook wasn’t planning on slowing down, not until the roads were barred by trees thick enough no one would be able to see them from the sky.

His radio crackled from its place in the center console and Mary May’s voice filtered through the static.

“Dep, I - please, just, if you can hear me - answer as soon as you can. If no one hears from you by tomorrow morning, we - we’ll just - “ The shaky breath she released into the speakers sounded more like popping bubble wrap than it did a sigh, but Rook knew it too well to mistake it for anything else. “Please, just get back here.”

He didn’t like lying to her. Even if it wasn’t exactly lying, the remorse crawled from his chest and into hands, curling his fingers around the steering wheel tighter. It was for the best, though, Rook had to keep reminding himself that.

He pried a hand off the wheel, reached for the radio, and shut it off. John Seed watched the movement, but didn’t say a word.

He’d been like that for well over twenty minutes; silent. It was a drastic difference from when Rook had first shoved him into the passenger seat, when he’d been hissing every curse from under the sun, struggling even though his arms were held behind him, bound by a complicated knot Rook had made from John’s own dumb fucking coat. The way his head lolled back and forth probably wasn’t a good sign, Rook decided. How John had been fighting and resisting before almost made Rook forget he had fallen a few hundred feet from the sky.

While there were a lot of things people could say about the youngest Seed sibling - a good amount no one would be able to argue against - being a bad pilot was not one of them. With the way Nick had knocked him, the plane should have dropped like a rock, but John had managed.

Still, he’d hit the ground hard. Rook wasn’t about to risk everything by driving a Seed to safety only to have him die to a concussion he couldn’t wake up from.

“You’re awfully quiet over there.” He looked away from the road for a second to make sure John could hear him. Sure enough, he was met with the other’s gaze, burning with exhausted rage. It made Rook grin. “Only so many ways you can tell someone you’re gonna carve their skin off, huh? I get that.”

John rolled his eyes - honest to god rolled his eyes - and kept them focused on the sky, like he’d rather burn his retinas from the setting sun rather than look at Rook. He still didn’t say a single thing.

“Seriously.” Rook turned his attention back to the road but kept the grin on his face because he knew it would irritate the other to see it. “What happened to the guy who could never keep his fuckin’ mouth shut, huh? Loved hearin’ himself talk? Couldn’t get through a night without you barking your shit in my ear and now you’ve finally got nothing to say?”

John remained quiet and when Rook spared him another brief look, he was still squinting up at the sky. Rook resisted the urge to knock the sunglasses that were still miraculously perched on his head down and over his eyes, just to be a nuisance; harder for John to ignore. He didn’t, afraid to find out if they actually could move from there or not.

Rook blinked and refocused his vision, remembering to return back to the task of driving.

“Why am I here?” John’s voice was quiet, most likely on account of the wheezing, rattling noise his chest made every so often.

Rook weighed his chances of getting the medical clinic near the Ryes’ house to accept them as patients without alerting the entirety of the county before he responded to the Seed. “I mean, that’s a little introspective, y’know? More soul searching for oneself rather than a topic of conversation, but if that’s what you wanna talk about,” he shrugged. “Unless you meant generally, then - “

“Just kill me,” the other groaned petulantly, mostly a whine but Rook could hear the underlying tone of genuine desperation. He was scared, shocked, confused, Rook could see all of it in the color of his eyes. Saw too much of it, his pupils like pin pricks from the intake of harsh sunlight, only leaving him with blue. John must have been searching Rook, too, found something he wasn’t fond of as well if the next shuddering breath he took was anything to go by.

Rook tore his gaze away again so he didn’t have to look at him.

John leaned forward as far as his bonds would allow, the muscles along his shoulders straining from the pull of it. He didn’t seem to care, or maybe everything else pained him much more for him to notice the duller ache of it. “Joseph saw this coming, all of it, no matter what you did - we knew what was coming. If this is the path you’re making, I’m supposed to be dead. Joseph saw it to be so.”

“That’s not - that’s not how the fucking world works.” Rook bit the inside of his cheek, breathed out through his nose; steadied. “He’s not a goddamned oracle or prophet - he’s just a man, how could he know what I would do?” He pulled the truck on a turn without slowing much, the brakes whined and the momentum pressed him against his door. The road was darker, hidden by the trees like Rook had intended, but he still felt cut open and bare for the world to see. The world and John fucking Seed. “I didn’t come here for that,” he confessed. “I was just a replacement for Williams ‘cause he called in sick. I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I never wanted to hurt anybody - never wanted to kill anybody.”

“Liar.” The way John said it, low and on an exhale, made the word come out like a hiss, like a curse. Rook flinched when he heard it, but only slightly. “You came down on our project like a plague. Dozens of our followers lay dead on the street by your hands and you’ve never batted an eye.” He jolted in his seat suddenly and Rook knew it was a subconscious attempt to grab at him, pull at his shoulders until the only thing he could see was John, only hear his voice, only feel the grip, like a vice on his skin. It frustrated him to be held down, so much so that he continued speaking through the grit of his teeth. “Never batted an eye and yet you still refuse to see. I carved it into you, wrote it across your chest so you would be reminded every,” he took a breath. “Waking,” another one. “Moment.” He let the silence sit between them for a moment, the air in the cab so tense it sat like lead in Rook’s chest. “You still don’t see it,” John whispered finally, then scoffed as if in disbelief, shook his head. “You don’t care.”

Rook veered off the road with a violent jerk, the tires kicking up dirt and mud until they finally rolled to a stop. He counted to three, looked at John, looked away, counted again. “I do care. But they - none of these people will stop until I deal with you. You and your family.”

“Dealing with us,” John repeated slowly, anger still evident in his voice. “This is dealing with us? Going on the run from my men and your own?” He punctuated himself by jerking his chin at the silenced radio between them. “If you were smart, you would have killed me. My chosen will find us. They’re trained - “

“I know, I know.” He sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the steering wheel. “Trained hunters, best of the best, pros at what they do. I fucking know. I’ve seen Brother Jacob’s training grounds.”

When he finally lifted his head after a few more calming moments, he found John still hung forward, strung up by his seatbelt threaded through his coat’s tied up sleeves. He was staring passed Rook, outside his window, somewhere else entirely. It reminded Rook of just hours before, how John had been sat over his hips with a hand running over his bare chest, hot with Rook’s own blood. He spoke about sin then, too, but with the same far away look in his eyes; expression dazed as if he was remembering something he thought he had buried deeper than he had.

“Why am I still alive?” He asked again.

No matter how long he tried to hide it, the answer would never change. Obvious, like a puzzle he’d already solved time and time again, or a knife stuck through his skull. If he were a better man, someone with more worth and sense, Rook would have hesitated. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t. “I want to save you.”

John laughed something ugly, a rasp from his throat that sounded more like a cough. He slumped back in his seat, head thumping against the rest behind it. “I was already saved.”

In order to resist begging the other to understand the insanity in his defense, Rook switched gears and parked the truck so he could curl his fists over his knees. There were layers and layers of trauma and violence and conditioning Rook would have had to dig through to get John to see it. He imagined it would have been akin to hammering through concrete with only his hands. There were just too many reasons for John to be the way he is, but none of them made it right.

Rook heard the rumors of John Duncan when he spent enough time in the valley. It didn’t mean much to him until he found himself strapped to a chair in the man’s bunker. He told Rook about his upbringing, hesitated before he called the people his parents, went on to describe how they had beaten their faith into him until it was all he knew. The wrong faith. Joseph found him, had shown him that. John used prettier words when he recounted the tale, though; a stark contrast to the hand on Rook’s throat. Despite it all, Rook was enamored. And high, for lack of a better term, having just woken up from a Bliss bullet to his thigh. Whatever the reason, he soaked up every word and touch John gave him, leaned into him, never took his eyes off of him. John had noticed that, practically preened from Rook’s devoted attention. Hudson, who had been sat across the room from him, noticed as well. She screamed through her gag like she was begging him to come to his senses, but he hadn’t, not until John had left, dragging her with him.

Sitting in the truck now, Rook wondered if he ever truly did come to his senses.

He mimicked John’s busted laugh without meaning to. “I think we have different meanings for the word ‘saved’, then.”

John made a noise, almost a groan but cut off short so it was more like a thoughtful hum. “I wish Joseph would’ve just let us kill you all.”

“Yeah,” Rook agreed. They listened to the rumble of the truck’s engine, Rook tapping his fingers along to it. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

“The smart thing,” John suggested. Rook laughed again, because evidently he was not prone to choosing the smart thing and John goddamned Seed was not one to talk. “You have been cleansed in our rivers,” John continued anyway, pointedly ignoring his amusement. “I have exposed you to your sin. All that is left is for you to confess - to accept the Father’s word into your heart. He saw it like he had seen everything else; you, standing in the Garden of our new world.” He was back to staring at Rook with those large, desperate eyes, like all he needed from the world was Rook’s agreement - for him to say yes. “I just need to get you to see.”

That night, the night Rook thought back to so many times, where he received his second baptism was when things started making more sense to him regarding the youngest Seed brother. He remembered how immediate John’s muscles had frozen at the sound of the Father’s gentle-voiced scolding. Rook had never torn his eyes off of him, even though they stung from river water and Bliss, just so the image of John shamefaced and terrified would be hard to forget. He was still rigid when his brother brought their foreheads together, maybe even more so then. This one shall reach the Atonement. Or the Gates of Eden will be shut to you, John.

The intensity of John’s actions were driven by something deeper than the need to save as many as he could by way of confession, something more personal. Without Rook, there would be no John. He found himself staring at the letters scratched into the other’s chest and wondered if that had anything to do with it. If his sloth was the reason behind it all, as he would perish without the help of others. Maybe John was never clean himself, had yet to reach his own atonement - and Rook was it. To cleanse one would save the other, and together they would walk, side by side, to the supposed end of the world.

He hated that all of their madness started making sense to him. He wished John had just drowned him in that fucking river.

Rook breathed in deep, let it out as a long, suffering sigh that ended with a firm “fuck”.

“I wish you weren’t so fucking crazy,” he said at last.

John didn’t snap back like Rook thought he would. He kept staring, waiting, Rook realized, because it was the first time he didn’t dismiss his long winded speech with a fuck off as his definitive no thank you.

“Deputy?”

Rook returned his gaze back to him, like he always would. All of the Seeds had something magnetic about them, but John always had drawn him in. The bastard knew it, too, smiled something wicked when Rook didn’t look away; manic and large, fucking feral. His eyes were blue, made up of poems Rook wished he knew how to recite so he could put an exact pin on the feeling they gave him. If he had known the words to describe them, maybe it would have grounded him, set him steadier on his feet so it would’ve been harder for John goddamned Seed to knock him off them. He didn’t know them.

Rook was finding he didn’t know much of fucking anything.

lemme know if there’s any mistakes or if the read more didn’t fucking work i’m so paranoid about that shit

#john seed #male deputy #john seed/deputy #far cry 5 #crucker's family originals

[mononoke-no-ko]

[MISC] Official texts on Lelouch & C.C.'s relationship

A compilation of excerpts from old magazines and illustration books (released somewhere around 2007-2008) that depict relationship of Lelouch and C.C. in character’s description, poem, monologue, etc. Source.

■ Graphics Zero Illustration Book

A contract between a witch and a devil.

The witch gives power to the devil, and is on the side of the devil. The devil fulfills the witch’s wish, and is on the side of the witch. People don't know the devil's anguish, only the witch knows. People don't know the witch's loneliness, only the devil knows.

When the horizon is stained with blood and everything is changed The contract between the devil and the witch does not change.

The devil is on the side of the witch, the witch is on the side of the devil.

■ Graphic Zero Illustration Book

The supernatural that grant the power of king GEASS. An immortal who will resuscitate even if her head is shot by a bullet - that is C.C..

Lelouch doesn’t know who C.C. is and where she comes from. Even though she has an appearance of a human, it’s uncertain whether she is part of mankind. While keeping a human appearance, she uses magical power upon others. In medieval Europe such being was called “witch”, and being feared of. The fear of unknown existence soon converted into aversion. It’s not hard to imagine that in the past years she has been exposed to people’s hatred and persecution. 

That’s why she is happy. The unexpected word of gratitude from Lelouch. Even though it’s clumsy, but that’s precisely why his sincere feelings are conveyed. She wants Lelouch to call her “true name”. “C.C” is just a code name. “Witch” is also not C.C.’s name. “Only a human”, at the time when her tears are able to flow just like an ordinary girl, her “true name” is...  

■ Lelouch’s monologue from Graphics Ashford Illustration Book

What’s with that woman! I thought her head was shot with a gun, but she was actually still alive. Rudely turned up at someone’s house and lived there. Saying unnecessary things to Nunnally... When did we ‘promise to share the future’? We met only once, didn’t we? She’s selfish, doesn’t listen to what other has to say, untidy, changes clothes in front of people, wanders around the school as she please. Why does she always eat pizza anyway? And she pays for them with my card! I'm reaching my limit!!! Also at the school festival some times ago, because the world's biggest pizza ended in a failure, she was in bad mood and haughtily said "Do it all over again!" Who does she think she is?! Sigh, there is no end talking about her bad points. Let's stop...

Well, I’m grateful. Thanks to this power she gave, Geass, my plan has been greatly ahead of schedule. She also saved my life. An indispensable existence... though her sense of clothes is the worst. This is no good... I’m not making any sense. At times like this should I order pizza to feel better?

■ Megami Magazine April 2007 Issue

A witch in a human body that hides loneliness.

'C.C.' is not a human-like name. It might be like a curse for her. No matter how deep her wounds are she would not die, an eternally young girl who cannot live in the same time as human. Every time her name is called, she’s reminded of how different she’s from human. Sometimes there are parts of C.C. that frowns upon her likeness to human. And yet she also tinkers with the kiss shared between Shirley and Lelouch. Such act is far from being ‘humane’. Perhaps the real C.C. is the one who drops tears of delight when Lelouch called her real name. Perhaps that’s why she embraces Lelouch who killed Euphemia and comforts him.

From now on, it’s unknown what fate awaits Lelouch and C.C. However, there is no doubt that C.C. is near Lelouch. And rather than the contract, it would be because of her heart... 

■ Newtype September 2007 Issue 

When he signed a contract with the girl, the boy did not know anything. The girl's loneliness. The fate he should live. Every time he exercises the King's power, GEASS, that’s given by the girl. His sins piled up, his dreams lost, his future closed. Still, the boy burns to ambition. He can not turn back. Only the girl knows everything. Lelouch and C.C... Only two people in the world... When they’re only one step further from achieving their goal What hindered their path was his only best friend. And so the boy and the girl became accomplices of the past and solitude. Both the contract and the power of the king are different, each with its own intention. Even if that feeling is a transient one...

■ Lelouch’s monologue from Code Geass Novel: R2 TURN-3. 1-Evolution, reinterpretation of their scene in Turn 15 (gif related).

I’m ‘too kind’? What stupid words!    

Who's the one being ‘too kind’ here?    

C.C., when you first made contract with me, you didn’t reveal anything. I was afraid that I was nothing more than a tool to end your eternal life. But now I know your weakness that differs you from the nun, the Code bearer from your past; you are too kind. No matter where you go, even when your body is immortal, your heart is still that of human. Whenever you make a contract, at first you have no feelings for your contractor. However after spending some time together with them, you change. As your heart longs for love the most, the girl longing for love would appear. You become confused, and finally come to conclusion: as long as the contractor grows to hate you*, they would leave you on their own. This way, you wouldn’t have to assign the same pain to them as the nun did to you. How stupid. You are really an idiot. Then why make contract? Wouldn’t it be meaningless? How could you have feelings for the person you intended to use?    

Here’s one thing I can tell you clearly.

"Don’t underestimate me, C.C.! Do you think I didn’t know your weakness? Do you think I fell for your cheap ploys? For being manipulated by you, do you think I would hate you?”

(then followed by "Don’t die while looking like that!” just like in the TV version.)

■ Lelouch’s monologue from Megami Magazine August 2008 Issue

Deprived of the power of immortality and returned to be an ordinary woman.... Even though we made a contract that says we’ll be together forever, are you leaving me alone, C.C.? Though it certainly doesn’t feel bad to be called ‘Master’, but thinking about it now, folding the clothes you tossed wherever, paying for pizzas you ordered without permission, it actually never feels bad at all. Is that C.C. no longer coming back?

■ Excerpt from Code Geass Novel: R2 TURN-4. 2-Truth, continuation of their conversation in Lelouch’s room in Turn 23. 

‘I do not want to lose this man.’ Thought C.C. without any hesitancy. There’s a way for her not to lose him. However, he wouldn’t want to use this method, and even she... did not want to. Then what should she do? C.C. hadn’t come to understand the way of the world, even when she had lived for who knows how many years she still didn’t understand, had no way of knowing what is right and what is wrong, but she was sure of one thing. That he, the man named Lelouch Lamperouge, would not stop running toward death. He chose this path on his own will. He’s like a horse that couldn’t be stopped. She wanted to blame him, but couldn’t... She wanted to cry, but couldn’t. So... "Lelouch." He said "Hm," in response. "Do you remember, that time in Narita?" C.C. asked a bit out of the blue, that Lelouch felt a little confused. "Why suddenly..." She leaned on his back, then continued, "Why snow is white?" There’s an instant blank, before Lelouch immediately answered, "Because it forgot its original color." "Then do you remember, Lelouch? Your original color." "Stupid question," he replied, finally back to his conceited tone. "I am me, I would never forget." "Is that so..." "What about you, C.C.? Do you remember your original color?" "Who knows, but -" "But?" "At least right now, my color is your color, Lelouch." Silence came. Then Lelouch laughed softly. "You selfish." "Of course," she wanted to cry a little - but instead, her face revealed a smile from the bottom of her heart, "it’s because I’m C.C."

■ C.C.’s character description from guidebook Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion R2 The Complete

When C.C. found Lelouch in Shinjuku, she gave him Geass to save him from a dire situation. To Lelouch who's devoted to fight for his desire and got intoxicated by the mighty power of Geass, C.C. declared, "You and I are accomplices." It is a self-defense measure born from her experience with Mao. Surprisingly, Lelouch kept respecting the position of an accomplice. C.C. was asked to act as his substitute or negotiator, but not even once she’s asked to act as his mother or lover. With Lelouch, C.C. learned the position of equal "partner" for the first time.

Lelouch who promised to make her wish comes true despite the unfair conditions, became a special existence for C.C. When C.C. was trying to protect him in exchange for her life, Lelouch hoped for her to live and repeatedly said "I will surely make you smile!". To answer his feelings, C.C. sealed her code and resisted Charles. She simply believed in Lelouch.

Her trust wasn’t betrayed. Even when she lost her memory, Lelouch's kindness to her didn’t change. Even when he was prepared to kill his beloved younger sister, he didn’t hold a grudge to her. Perhaps that is why C.C. is prepared to live for a long time. "Go quick, and then come back. You’re going to make me smile, right?" These are C.C.’s words to a partner she finally met after hundreds years, a powerful “promise”.

■ C.C.’s message for Lelouch from COMPLETE BEST: My Elegant Flower of Evil

At the beginning of everything, I should have warned you.  That the power of the king would isolate you.  You will lose your friends, differ from your childhood friend, and get betrayed by your subordinates.  Your parents will disappear from your sight, your siblings will disappear along with dew.  

Oh, what a terrible toil. How pitiful. And now, this solitude is your only companion. Nobody would want to embrace you who’s smeared in blood. Many people have casted stones at you, and as a retaliation, would you trample over them? No one noticed the wailing you secretly let out in your heart at the time. Oh, how pitiful you are. To the sight of you, my wound throbbed gently. Now, you’re dear to me because you’re too pitiful. Every time the piercing wounds on your tender heart increase, why does my solitude get healed little by little? The whole world is casting you with stones, showering you with insults. That is something I have experienced from this world. Without realizing, you take share of my solitude. Without knowing, you feel hurt as you think of me, and shoulder my sins. It’s as if you are a poisonous lycoris flower blooming from the graveyard. Only I know of its elegance.

 Note:

(*) In the novel, it’s explained that one of the reasons C.C. sent Lelouch into her memory (and not just him, but many of her past contractors) is to make them hate her by showing them that she would ultimately betray them just like the nun did her. That is, if they haven’t hated her yet for ruining their life by giving them Geass.

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#lelouch x c.c. #cluclu #code geass #c.c. #lelouch vi britannia #translation