#the way I still want to be a tattoo artist and have drawn four tattoos for ppl this trope has consumed my entire brain

[kedsandtubesocks]

oh my god tattoo artist & flower shop owner trope but with Gojo who’s the charming flower shop owner across the street from the tattoo parlor you work at I can’t get over this

#the way I still want to be a tattoo artist and have drawn four tattoos for ppl this trope has consumed my entire brain #Gojo being the pretty boy who of course gets major traffic to his shop but also is surprisingly knowledgeable about flowers #compared to being a little gremlin covered in tattoos #I need to lie down 🫠 #e babbles #Gojo 🩵

[kyotakumrau]

2024.02.16-17 sukekiyo at Kyoto Gekijo

I really wanted to write about each show separately but then the 17th was filled with too many exciting things and there was no time. So I'll try about them together. And because of the setlists it also feels like they both belong together anyway.

2.16 The first day flow felt like the young idol started bright and excited, innocent, but then fell, experiencing the dirty side of love and people, but wanted to find love somehow anyway. And it finished with 呼吸・kokyuu...

As the BGM they are playing another movie (sound only).

5 minutes to and then at 6:30 the theatre buzzer sounded to signal the start of the show.

They had the usual see through screen in front of the stage (always done for the seated shows). sukekiyo and the tour name appeared as the snow was softly falling in the dark. At the same time band members walked on the stage, Takumi first, followed by Yuchi and Mika, then utA and Kyo last.

And Takumi started the piano melody of Margaret. It's so nice that they again chose to start with the last song from the previous tour, like they're creating a connection between then and now.

The stage was mostly their normal setting, but Kyo's stand had a dark bouquet laying in the middle of the table, I'm pretty sure it was the one with the doll in it that he shared in his Instagram story. There was also a high chair on the right side of his stand, right next to it.

And a new addition were big light bulbs hanging on wires over the stage, one over each band member hanging lower and four more a bit higher, nine in total. When グロス・Gloss started they lit up but dimmed when song got quieter.

During 愛した心臓・Aishita shinzo Kyo was dancing, he also came close the screen stretching his arm towards audience. (but I'm always unsure how much they can see from the other side because of how the light works on the screen), he crouched when dancing. Kyo was very dancey, utA as well (I was sitting on utA's side that night, aisle seat though).

They all wore outfits from their last artist photos. utA's hair was more standing, full 90s visual kei style. Kyo changed his look having a very different hairstyle. Because he shaved his head to get a new tattoo in January his hair is still very short, like in Citta he glued things on though, for sukekiyo he had two thin pink braids, one on each side, styled in a way they created two rings. And he had the porcelain doll effect make up, shiny face with drawn eyebrows, dark eye make up and full lips. The back of his dress is quite open so we could see his tattooed back. And he wore pink tabi boots to complete the look. (you can check those tweets 1️⃣ 2️⃣ to see fans drawings of him, just pls don't repost)

Both Candis and Valentina were quite fun with the pen lights. And this part had a lot of dancey songs that even come with set dance moves... But since it was a seated show it was only Kyo dancing, with other band members rocking and jumping as well, fans had to endure and stay in their seats😂

With 口に林檎・kuchi ni ringo the stage went darker and Kyo was lit up by his mic stand's pink light. aftermath followed with the soft dark mood in the venue and the video on the screen. Some of the autumn temple has been edited and changed to pink cherry blossoms with petals scattering. Kyo sang standing by his mic stand, illuminated in pink.

And after the song ended Takumi played the piano melody that starts the session. Kyo softly walked towards the chair and sat with one leg over the other, very dignified, like a film noir singer or a diva. A black clothed staff member walked on the stage from the left side holding a make up case and started to 'do' Kyo's make up. He patted Kyo's face with a towel, he then used a sponge and a brush, then 'did' Kyo's lips. I don't think he actually changed anything but it was a part of the performance. Kyo stayed seated almost motionless through the whole process.

Then Kyo softly got up and walked to his mic stand, the session continued as Kyo joined singing. The cheerful idol from the start of the concert was gone by now, the innocence lost. The want, the hurt, the darker feelings took place to create someone new.

訪問者X・HomonshaX had Kyo dancing like a bug, very different from the way he danced as a cute idol.

It felt to me that the lights towards the end of the performance were changing between red - fiery, angry and strong - and blue - calmer and sadder, to me it felt like there was a battle of various emotions inside of our heroine. I aways have a ton of respect for Mika who is creating the visualisations for the shows. Like during 変わってくれませんでしょうか・kawattekuremasendeshouka? when the front screen is very simple and the sides are dark with water falling over Kyo in the middle as the rain is supposed to wash everything away.

During 夢見ドロ・Yumemidoro Kyo was dancing more seductively, even wrapped his leg around the mic stand, baring it to the people. During Scarlet Kyo was pointing his lips with his index finger, 'I want you to kiss me'. Even broken things want to find love.

And at the end the acceptance came and resignation. Ending with 呼吸・kokyu had many people crying, if they were not crying by then anyway.

At the end Kyo slowly turned and left the stage. The end credits started on the screen, the audience was clapping as the rest of the band members slowly left as well. But many people kept crying even then (yours truly included).

But we did get the Gion Matsuri tour announced! 4 days at Kyoto MUSE! I wonder how many people will manage to hit all tickets on one account... I'll try😂

2.17

One more thing that was different was Kyo's stand, on the second day there were no flowers there. So I guess it was a present for his birthday?

The setlist flow was was different on this day. They started with 訪問者X・homonshaX and Kyo's bug dance. He was also pointing at the audience as he sang.

During グロス・Gloss the light bulbs lit up again. There was one moment when Kyo made a movement raising his arms like he wanted to catch his light bulp between his hands.

The video for The Hole had a mix of colours and Kyo was dancing. He definitely had more of a seductress in his movements on the second night. He stretched one arm and moved the other with the music and switched them. The idol songs following felt quite different because of the way they started the set and the mood.

After aftermath the staff came again to 'do' Kyo's make up and it was followed up with a session. At the end the stage was quite dark with a simple spotlight on Kyo.

With 論外な生き物として・rongaina ikimono toshite I love how the song switches from soft to heavy, from Kyo carresing the mic stand softly to him headbanging.

And the hair set he had made it kinda interesting for headbanging 😆 he had thin pink braids glued to his hair again, this time the loops were shorter so the end of the brace was behind the loops. So they bounced when Kyo moved. He wore a cropped black top with puffy sleeves and strands of pearls over it. Flowy pleated black skirt and again pink tabi boots. Make up was very similar to the first night. (fan's drawing)

The rest of the band members had different outfits too. utA again had a very classic v-kei outfit, this time his hair was styled to the right side. Takumi had a long white collar outfit. Mika I couldn't see, from my seat Mika was obstructed by Kyo's iPad stand 😅 Yuchi had a sleeveless Nike top with long gloves, he changed his hair style too to add more braids.

I can't play any instruments and I don't have especially trained ears, but I'm always impressed with the sound quality at sukekiyo shows as well. I can cearly hear all instruments and they create this amazing harmony together. And I also enjoy the fact that band members use different instruments for some songs (like aftermath). I could hear the wonderful bass promised by Yuchi, Mika's powerful drums, utA's guitar, especially during solos, Takumi's piano and guitars. And Kyo's voice. 🖤

For ただ、まだ、私。・tada, mada, watashi. there was no visualisation on the screen, so it looked like there was no screen besides a bit of a smoke by the floor. There was light coming from the back of the stage and very lightly the band members silhouettes appeared above the stage. And because of this the stage appeared to be very deep.

I liked the flow of the last part of the setlist, it didn't feel as gut wrenching as the first night.

The end credits started aready during Margaret and Kyo calmly left as soon as the song ended. The rest of the band followed as fans started to give applause.

I'm so curious what we will see in Tokyo. Only one more performance left.

#sukekiyo #京都劇場 #Kyoto Gekijo #attempt at live report #京 #kyo #漆黒の儀 #shikkoku no gi #Jet black ceremony #TOUR2024 「冷たい沈黙」

[bored-writer101]

Eddie Munson X Reader More Bats

A/N: this is a pretty self indulgent fic because the reader is an artist. i had the thought for this while staring looking at pictures of eddie. hope you guys enjoy :)) (gender neutral reader)

Warnings: none

Summary: you can’t stop yourself from drawing more bats down eddie’s arm in pen, but you didn’t think he was actually going to get them tattooed on him.

Words: 1194

(not my gif)

More bats. That's all you could think as you looked down at Eddie's bare forearm. The sleeves of his hellfire tee stopped right above the bat tattoos that were just below his elbow. More bats. You thought again as you twirled around the pen you were holding. You couldn't resist the urge to draw more bats, so before you could stop yourself, you clicked your pen and leaned forward.

The clicking sound had somewhat gotten Eddie's attention, but he was a little preoccupied with the metal magazine laying open on his bed in front of him. What did get his attention though, was the feeling of a pen against his skin. He furrowed his brows before looking down to his right arm.

Your tongue poked out from between your lips in concentration as you drew more bats down Eddie's arm. Eddie could feel his cheeks begin to heat up at the close proximity. "Uh... Y/N?"

"Mhm" you hummed in response, continuing to draw. "What are you doing?" he asked, even though he knew exactly what you were doing; he was watching you finish your second bat that was just below the first. "Drawing" you answered simply. Eddie chuckled, opting to not bother you and just let you work.

A few more minutes passed by before you sat back, satisfied with the three incredibly detailed bats you had added. You didn't notice Eddie had been looking at you until you looked up to meet his gaze. The realization of what you had just done hit you like a truck.

I just started drawing on him. I didn't even ask, I just started doing it! What if when he had asked what I was doing, he actually wanted me to stop? Your mind was racing as your eyes began to widen. It was as if Eddie could read your mind. He smiled warmly before looking down at his arm, brining it up closer to his face to inspect your drawings.

"These are fuckin' metal! They look even better than my old ones!" Eddie did his best to make sure you knew he appreciated them. He had wished you'd added more, just so he could feel the warm skin of your fingertips and watch the way your tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you concentrated on getting every line right.

"You like them?" you asked. "Like them? I fuckin' love them! You'll have to draw me some more stuff sometime" you couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. "Okay!" you said happily.

You glanced down at your watch, realizing you should have left at least fifteen minutes prior. "Shit. I'm gonna be late. My mom is gonna kill me" you mumbled. "I gotta go, but maybe I'll draw on you some more later" you got up off Eddie's bed before walking toward the door. "See you later" you said with a wave. "See ya" Eddie waved back before you turned and headed out of his trailer.

                                              ~

You didn't see Eddie for a few days after that. You had gotten busy with work, and he had gotten busy with school(a.k.a. hellfire club). The next time you saw him he had come over to your house.

It was late at night, and you had snuck Eddie in through your window. You talked in hushed whispers, trying to keep your giggles quiet every time Eddie made you laugh. After a bit he had finally pulled his jean jacket off and thrown it to the side. It hit your carpeted floor with a soft thump. "Oh please, just put that anywhere!" you joked, chuckling as your eyes wandered to Eddie's now bare arms.

Your laughter stopped abruptly as you noticed the bats you had drawn on Eddie's arm were still there. Had he really not showered in four days? You knew he wasn't the most hygienic guy, I mean you've seen his room, but he usually showered before seeing you. You remembered he had told you that after you teased him about not showering one time.

You didn't notice Eddie had stopped laughing and was looking at you with furrowed brows. You reached out and rubbed your thumb across one of the bats toward the bottom. Eddie smirked at your realization.

"I couldn't let those masterpieces go to waste. Besides, they matched anyway" Eddie said before you could speak. You looked up at him, noticing now that you must have leaned in closer. "I suppose I underestimated you when you said you loved them" you said with a quiet chuckle. "Haven't you learned not to underestimate me yet? There's nothing I won't do, sweetheart"

Sweetheart. The word echoed in your head as your eyes glanced down at Eddie's parted lips. You quickly looked back up at his eyes, hoping he didn't catch that, but the look on his face told you that he did.

His lopsided smile turned into a full on grin as his gaze admired all of you. You watched as his eyes scanned down your body. Even with your clothes on, you felt naked and venerable under his gaze. Your eyes were open wide like a deer caught in headlights.

Eddie laughed, a hand quickly coming up to cover his mouth to muffle the noises. "Don't need to look so scared, princess. I don't bite" you felt a shiver run up your spine at the pet name, and also at the close proximity as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. "Unless you want me to"

You couldn't take it anymore. You leaned back slightly so you could see Eddie's face, before you gripped the fabric of his already torn metallica tee and pulled him in. Your lips met in a messy kiss that was all tongue and clashing teeth. Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You continued to make out as your hands snaked their way into his long hair.

You started to get lightheaded, but you didn't want to stop. You could barely believe you were kissing Eddie, and you weren't planning on stopping anytime soon. Eddie pulled away for both of you though, leaning back as you both panted, trying to catch your breath.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that" Eddie finally spoke, though he was still a bit breathless.

"Me too" you replied with a shy smile.

"How about tomorrow I take you out on a real date? And maybe you can draw me another tattoo" his grin made you melt, and you didn't hesitate before replying.

"I would love that" you leaned in and kissed him again, slow and sweet this time.

"Can I just stay the night? Please?" Eddie asked once you pulled away.

"I don't see why not. Just be prepared to jump out the window if one of my parents knock on the door" you said with as you stood to lock your door.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. After we almost got caught last time, I'm always prepared" Eddie said before you jumped back onto your bed, straddling his waist and pulling him close for another passionate kiss.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader one shot #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #gender neutral reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine

[teebarnes]

✨ | I'm Fallin' For You, Darling.

Click [100 Followers Fic] for the rest of the 100 follower fics :)

Pairing: Chris Evans x female!reader

Summary: Both you and Chris have quite the relationship, it all started the day you gave him a marker.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning(s): Fluffffff, Angst for sure, talk of anxiety (not a lot but also a lot).

A/N: Thank you guys so much for 100 followers! It means the world, I hope you like this one as much as I do. (Sorry that's a lotta words).

⤑ Click here for my taglist so you can be notified when my new fics are posted.

Any Likes, Comments & Reblogs are super duper appreciated :))

When Chris Evans is nervous, there is only one thing that calms him down. And that one thing is you and the fact that you allow him to doodle on your hands all the time.

The premiere of Captain America: The Winter Soldier was the first time you saw Chris so nervous. Him constantly rubbing his hands together or bouncing his leg underneath the press table and the times when he'd fiddle with the hem of his shirts. These were things you noticed Chris did when he got nervous, and it seemed that you were the only one who witnessed them.

The third day into the film's press tour, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew what it felt like to be anxious, the feeling settling within the depths of your stomach or the constant avoidance of looking out to an audience. Sometimes you'd excuse yourself a few times throughout interviews just to catch your own breath.

~

The whole TCA: TWS cast sat along the stage of the comic-con panel. The hosts introduced you all, crowds cheering loudly when they saw everyone.

You took your seat next to Chris, who was already fiddling with his plastic water bottle that he'd been gripping so tightly on, you could already see the indents on the bottle. You smiled, looking out to the audience waving back to some of your fans that you could see holding signs up for you in the crowd. It was, in fact, times like these that your anxiety shot right out the window, replacing that anxiety with happiness and admiration of your fan base.

Five minutes into the panel talk and questions were directed to Scarlett and RDJ. You knew you wouldn't be talking anytime soon as, of course, like all other press tours, the interviews were heavily coordinated. So before you'd have the chance to speak, Sebastian, Anthony, and the Russo brother would go first. Sitting back in your chair, you took a sip of your water, your eyes following down to where Chris was bouncing his leg. Then, setting your water back onto the table, you pulled yourself and your chair closer to the table, reaching over across Joe Russo, who observed what you were doing.

"Could you pass me the marker, please, Joe?" you whispered to him; he smiled, nodding handing you the marker. "Thanks", you whispered again.

You returned to the comfort of your seat, Scarlett and RDJ still bantering. You look forward to the audience and give a tiny little smile to the fans who were waving at you. Your eyes looked down to your arm; you wrote a little message on your forearm, so he knew what the pen was for.

You scooted a bit closer to Chris just enough so you could hand him the pen. You lightly looked over to him; your hand went underneath the table and across to rest on Chris' lap. It was right there when his leg stopped bouncing. You held the pen in your hand, waiting for him to take it from you. Chris looked up turning his gaze to you; you gave him a smile nodding.

His eyes directed back down to where your arm was. He read the note you had written for him, 'Use my arm to doodle. It helps with anxiety :)'. He let out a smile, all the while letting out the breath he'd been holding in.

You looked back up and over to Sebastian, who was now talking; you felt the pen slip out from your grip, the marker clicked and the coldish ink embracing the surface of your skin.

One of Chris' hand rested firmly on your forearm to keep it from moving, and the other used to doodle. That was the first time in the history of you knowing Chris to be calm and content. No bouncing his leg or fidgeting. He was completely aware of everything instead of his growing anxiety.

~

It was after that moment Chris slowly began to fall in love. He never expected someone to notice his worries and do something about them. But, the way you sat there while he doodled on your arm didn't phase you at all, you wanted to support him, and you showed him that you did.

Years later, It became a force of habit, the tiny hugs you'd give Chris just to slide a marker into his pocket before going on stage. The small slight movements he'd make before he took your hand into his so he could draw.

You'd become someone who knew him better than he knew himself. The many dates he took you on lead to you moving in with him. The small moments you both had messing around on set and loving him in the silliest of moments meant eternity to the pair of you. You knew that you had fallen in love with Chris Evans, and so was he. You both just didn't realise that the moment would be a forever moment. If you hadn't offered him a marker that day, where would you be?

It was now the premiere of Avengers: End Game and the last press tour you'd have for a while. Today's interview consisted of a comic-con panel, the same panel you happily let Chris doodle on your arm five years ago.

You both sat together, his hand protectively on your thigh. You were speaking into the mic as a fan had just asked you a question about possibly seeing your character in the future of the MCU. Chris sat there attentive to your voice while he drew on the top of your hand. It was a little duck with a Boston Red Sox hat holding a heart.

Once you had finished answering the question and someone else began to speak, you looked back down to see what Chris was drawing. You squinted in wonder; looking back at Chris, you wondered why he was drawing this. Coincidentally, you had drawn a duck on him one day in between an interview—a duck holding a heart wearing a NASA cap. Chris looked at you with his cheesy smile. Oh! he was up to something, you thought. Chuckling, you watched him colour in the small heart with a red marker. He was, in truth, quite a good artist; you managed to take a photo of all his doodles over the years. But this one, this doodle was a bit different; it meant something more to you.

After you had both finished the panel, you were set on getting a new tattoo. Kissing Chris' lips, you told him that you'd see him at home. Chris had asked you where you were going, so you said you were going out to dinner with your mum in town, which was true you just left out the part of you going to get another tattoo. Your parents were in for the weekend for reasons unknown and wanted to see you before they left, so you had already planned to see them. He nodded, kissing you once more before departing ways.

You both were always so sentimental, and you knew as soon as you saw that duck in a red sox cap holding a heart on your hand that you wanted it to be a forever doodle. That day, when you had drawn a duck on him, he went and got it tatted on his hand the same day. The first tattoo visible on Chris' body, the only tattoo that wasn't hidden under his shirts. In contrast, most of your tattoos were on your arms and wrists; this was another tattoo among the few others you had on your hand, others being the original six symbol and some writing of your favourite quotes.

Before you knew it, you were sitting on the chair in your private tattoo artist's studio, getting the duck tattooed on you forever. The tattoo was a reminder of memories both you and him had experienced together.

~

The red sox hat, being where he took you on your first date five years ago. To a Red Sox game, of course. You didn't have anything to wear to represent the team, so Chris kindly offered you his Red Sox cap to wear; five years later, Chris had to purchase a new hat because you kept his one. Of course, he didn't mind; he loved to see you dressed in things that were his; the hat was one of them.

"I don't have anything to wear", you sadly pouted at Chris, looking at him in his Red Sox jersey and cap.

He looked down to you as you stood next to him, holding his hand softly, looking out to the stadium. He smiled, taking his cap off and placing it over your head.

"Now you do", he smiled, leading you down the stairs to your seats. You weren't really a fan of baseball. Still, once you had experienced your first game, oh man... it became a routine for both you and Chris to attend every game the Red Sox were playing at.

~

The duck, the furry little animal you had brought home a few months after you had first moved in with Chris two years ago. In all honesty, you wanted to get a turtle, but as soon as you saw that slight yellow fluff waddling around at the pet store, you wanted nothing more than to take it home with you. Chris couldn't say no to you, so the duck became your baby.

"y/n?" Chris came around the corner where you'd sat yourself talking to the little duck... Chris had been looking for you for almost fifteen minutes when he found you sitting there with the pet shop worker.

The excitement in your eyes told him that you had forgotten all about the turtle. You looked up at him smiling, patting the empty seat next to him. He sat watching you pet the small baby duck with your thumb lightly. "I'm naming him Alfie" you smiled brightly, looking back at Chris.

He took the duck out of your hands and chuckled, "Alfie, it is".

~

The red heart...

A reminder of how much you both loved each other. Something that had never gone away, the love both you and Chris had continued, it grew stronger over time, of course with a few hiccups here and there but never enough to break that love. But this, the tiny little heart being tattooed onto you, was one similar to the heart that homed your middle finger on a ring. The rose gold ring he gifted you when he asked you to be his girlfriend four years ago.

You rested your head on Chris' shoulder as both of you watched the office. A new series you'd been watching together, it was a few months after your first date with Chris, and you both were head over heels with each other.

"Hey y/n", he whispered.

"Mh?"

"I'm fallin' for you darling."

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking up at him, "You're what", you whispered softly, you heard what he said, but you just needed to hear it again.

He brought the small box out, opening it to reveal a rose gold band hearts making up the band. "I said I'm falling in love with you", he smiled before continuing ", Be my girlfriend?" he sweetly asked.

You chuckled, letting him slide the ring onto your middle finger. "Of course", you whispered back to him before cupping his face. You both looked at each other, you saw it, you saw the life you'd been wanting. It was with him.

"I love you".

~

Sitting at the dinner table with your parents, you briefly looked down at the now wrapped tattoo on your hand. You had thanked your tattoo artist for another fantastic job; the new ink was precisely how Chris drew it on you earlier today. Your parents were eating away and so were you.

"It's great to see you again, Hunny", your dad spoke.

You smiled, nodding. "I've missed you guys so much."

"What's on your agenda for this weekend?" you spoke again, taking a bite of your food. Your mum and dad took one look at each other before your mum stopped to talk.

"Your dad and I are going to old friends party", she smiled at you. "party", you chuckled. "Since when do you guys party".

"it's an engagement party, I mean... do you have some parties we could go to" your dad joked.

"First of all... no." you laughed, cringing at the image in your head of your parents dancing and drinking. "But that's nice. I hope you both have fun, wish whoever a congratulations for me" you smiled.

"Oh, we will", your mum outwardly said. You took a second to squint your eyes in curiosity to your mum's tone. "Mhkay".

~

It was the end of dinner, and you had parted ways with your parents, taking a Cab to the home you shared with Chris. "thank you, driver," you smiled, hopping out of the cab walking up to your driveway. You giggled, seeing Dodger patiently waiting for you at the front door. "Hey buddy", you smiled, opening up the door for him to jump all over you.

Closing the door behind you, kneeling down to cuddle your pup. Dodger wagged his tail giving you kisses. "Shhhhh", you chuckled lightly, "were you waiting for me, huh?" you watched Dodger roll around on the floor. You stood up, taking your shoes off, leaving your keys on the hook. "C'mon, baby", you whispered, gesturing for Dodger to follow. You both walked down the hall, Dodger by your side.

You could hear the snores coming from your room and knew Chris was already sleeping. You opened the door, looking down at Dodger "go keep my spot warm for me, please", you sweetly asked your pup, who did just that. You watched him gently jump up onto the bed and curl up on your side of the bed.

Walking further down the hall, you went to take a shower. Changing into the PJs you left on the warming rack in the bathroom, you followed back out to check on Alfie, who would be sleeping in your office. Once that was done, you head into your and Chris' room. You took off your slippers and ushered Dodger to sleep in his bed. You kissed his head before he left. "night, bubba".

You slide in next to Chris, who had his back to you. Covering yourself with the blanket, you slide one arm around his bare torso pulling yourself closer to him. He was so warm, and you loved it. Chris groaned, turning over. He smiled sleepily. "Hey hon, how was dinner?" "It was good", you kissed his lips, "That's good," he said, pulling you into his arms to cuddle.

"Hey babe"

"mhhh", he mumbled in a sleepy voice.

"I love you."

"I love you too".

~

The next day you were doing a panel with the marvel cast. Like any other day, you answered questions, so why did you feel this one would be different. You were a bit nervous today, like you had woken up wrong, or you were waiting for something to happen. You didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

You were talking to your audience. It was a large panel today consisting of the MCU cast, if not all of them. Maybe that's why you were so nervous; the bigger the cast panel, the bigger audience to speak to. "Make eye contact and hand gestures y/n," you thought to yourself right before you begun to answer the fan's questions. You start to use your hands gesturing when a fan had asked you about your character's personality.

Chris smiled, watching you intently; fans noticed. But as you were gesturing, he noticed the tattoo. He had to double-take when he saw your hand, leaving a small on his face. After you finished your question, he leaned in. "I love your tattoo, babe", he whispered; his comment calmed your nerves a bit as you chuckled ", just following your lead."

You both lean back into your seats as Joe and Anthony Russo began the next half of the panel. You were already forty minutes through... only another forty to go.

Anthony spoke, "As you may know, this will be the last you'll see of your favourite actors and actresses for a while..." Joe turned to the entire panel. "So we put together a little something of your time over the last decade" Joe turns back to the audience. "So sit back and relax."

The panel turned their chairs to watch the big screen, the lights dimmed, and the video rolled. It was a decade gag-reel of everyone in the MCU; Chris had pulled your chair closer to his; he knew you were nervous, for what reason? He didn't know, and neither did you. He should've been the nervous one; he was about to do something in front of the entire audience he had been planning for months.

Your head rested on Chris' shoulder, laughing with everyone else as the embarrassing footage rolled through. There was more footage of you and Chris than anyone else, but again, you were too clouded in worry. You didn't overthink about it.

Then there it was, a clip you didn't know existed—a video of you dancing with Scarlett and Jeremy on the infinity war set. You were being videoed from afar, but Chris comes into the frame making funny faces before pointing at you. You blushed a bit, laughing lightly.

"You see her", Past Chris spoke to the camera. "One day, I am going to marry her" he wiggles his finger over to your past self, who was still dancing around like an idiot. You swear your heart stopped, so ultimately, you started bouncing your leg. The video stopped, and the lights came back on. There were hushed voices; you knew they were looking your way, but you couldn't tell why.

You turned your chair, trying to avoid whoever was looking at you. Not noticing anything, nobody was talking. You had turned your head to look down to the end of the panel where The Russo brothers were. They were all looking in your direction, including the whole cast panel. You jumped slightly when Chris caught your leg mid-bounce; you turned to look at him, his eyes dazzling before you. Oh, that smile, you knew that smile all too well. Chris was smiling like a little kid.

Chris tapped you on your thigh, which caught your attention, so you looked down. This is it; this is the same feeling you felt when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. You burst into tears after reading the message on his arm; Chris' forearm rested in your lap while holding a black marker in his hand. You sniffed, looking softly at him. He was now in tears too. Taking the black marker from his grip, you clicked it; resting your hand on his forearm to steady yourself, you answered his question.

'Will you marry me, y/n?' the question written in his bold writing stared right back at you.

You always had your answer 'of course.'

You closed the lid on the pen, and Chris opened his hand; your engagement ring sat in the nook of his palm. He slides it onto your ring finger right next to your rose-gold one. You smile blinking through the tears, you turn to him, and Chris had already stood with his arms in the air.

"SHE SAID YES"

The whole audience got up cheering; he leaned in, cupping your cheeks, both of you laughing through your kisses. He had lifted you into his arms, spinning you around. He set you back down; you wiped the tears from your face laughing while wearing your t-shirt. At that point, you knew everyone was in on your proposal; you turned to your cast members, who were all clapping.

"Give a round of applause for the future Mr and Mrs Evans!" Joe spoke.

You went around hugging everyone who had gotten up just to congratulate the pair of you. One by one, your friends embraced you in their arms.

"Congratulations", two-voice spoke from behind you, "oh my god, you idiots", you chuckled, pulling your parents into a big hug. Chris stood next to you as your dad pulled him into a hug. "Your fiancé sends her congratulations", he laughed, referencing the conversation you had with them last night.

Chris looked down at you, "They had texted me last night what you had said. I'm surprised you didn't catch on", he laughed. "I- I didn't know... I was curious after mum said it so suspiciously but didn't think," you mentally face-palmed yourself.

And like that, the panel was concluded. Everyone congratulating you and Chris before leaving. Chris had set up a little engagement party back at your house; everyone was enjoying their time having fun. You sat on Chris' lap still in shock, his arms wrapped around your waist "you didn't see that coming, did you?" he smirked, looking up at you.

"No... no, I didn't" you laughed sweetly. Your hand ran over Chris' forearm where it still had both his and your writing on it. "That was the best proposal ever" you looked at him, smiling, "I'm glad, darling" you both leaned into each other, lips connecting softly.

"I've fallen deeply in love with you, Mr Evans".

"I'm still falling for you".

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

Chris Evans Taglist: @buckyswintersoldiermask @lharrietg @buckyfan12 @afraid-to-be-me @fairityretro

#teebarnesfics #chris evans one shot #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris x y/n #chris x you #cevans #chris evans angst

[uvobreakmylegs]

Pretense

got inspired by @ramwrites​‘s Inked piece. in the same story setting but it’s Hisoka’s s/o

Warnings: blood, mentions of death, very slight yandere behavior

The inside of the tattoo parlor was a lot cleaner than the outside, you decided. That's at least one thing it has in it's favor. Although that doesn't change the fact that you really don't want to be here. Especially since the woman in charge of the shop is not only willing to work for the Phantom Troupe, but also goes ahead in branding the significant others of the troupe.

'Branding' had been the way Hisoka described it, and it sounded pretty accurate. When you asked him why Chrollo would go so far to mark the partners of the troupe, Hisoka had answered with “boss just likes to make sure the most prized possessions of the troupe are marked as such. Cements it further for the more.... Resistant ones.”

Hisoka was currently wandering about the room, inspecting the tools next to the chair before looking to the artwork on the walls, softly humming to himself whenever he spotted a design that he liked. You were sitting in the chair at the center of the room, your legs dangling off the side as you waited for the tattoo artist to come back in. Your hands were folded in your lap as you tried to keep your mind from going crazy with scenarios of how this could go wrong. When it came to the Phantom Troupe, you wanted to have as little contact as possible. Being around them scared you, even more than Hisoka could whenever he got into that state where he was particularly unhinged. And while the woman doing the tattoo wasn't a member herself, just the fact that she was in close contact with Chrollo made you more than a little nervous.

On the other hand, Hisoka was relaxed, and almost seemed a bit excited as he came up behind you to rub your shoulders encouragingly. You turned your head to glare at him, but as usual, he smiled back at you, not taking the look you were giving him seriously.

“Alright, where did you want this thing?”

You turned at the sound of the woman's voice as she reentered the room. She sounded tired, and based off the way she grimaced at the sight of Hisoka, she was probably getting flashbacks to when she needed to tattoo the spider onto his back.

Hisoka tapped on a spot just below your shoulder blades.

“She wants it in the same spot as mine so we can match,” he said cheerfully, “isn't that cute?”

Stupid bastard.

“Sure,” she answered dryly before looking at you, “if you could take off your shirt and lay on the chair; I'll get the stencil out and we can see how the placement looks.”

You wordlessly obeyed, pulling your shirt over your head and folding it in your lap. When Hisoka took it to place it elsewhere, you laid on your front, holding on to the top of the chair to try and ground yourself.

You barely felt it when she placed the stencil on top of your bare skin, and Hisoka quickly agreed to the placement.

“All right, easy enough,” the woman said, more to herself than either of you. But she looked back to Hisoka, motioning with her head as she told him “you go back out to the lobby. I'll let you know when we're finished here.”

Hisoka shrugged.

“Alright then.”

A wave of panic hit you, and you struggled to find your voice for a moment.

“W-wait.”

They both looked at you.

“Could... Could he actually stay with me?” you asked.

Hisoka looked amused. The woman looked annoyed.

“Why?” she asked.

“I don't like needles,” you mumbled.

There was a certain level of disgust that she leveled at you in her gaze, and when Hisoka grabbed a chair and pulled it up so he could sit near the spot where your head lay, she asked “seriously?”

“How could I possibly leave her when she needs me?” was Hisoka's response.

“..... Fine. But you,” she said, jabbing a finger at Hisoka, “need to keep your damn mouth shut.”

Hisoka smiled at her.

She huffed as she got her tools ready.

And you lay still, letting out a small sigh of relief.

When you felt her hand press down on your back and heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun, you reached out for his hand, to which he obliged, taking your hand in his and gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

It stayed relatively quiet for some time, the only noises you could hear in the parlor being the soft music that played in the background and the constant buzzing of the tattoo gun. The tattoo was slowly taking form on that space on your back, the giant spiderweb with the number 4 in the middle.

She brushed over the areas where the needle had gone in every few seconds, wiping up the blood that came up after.

“This one bleeds a lot,” she grumbled.

“Oh? You aren't feeling nauseous at the sight of a little blood, are you?” Hisoka asked.

She glared at him, probably for breaking his agreement of keeping quiet.

“It can affect the end product if someone bleeds too much and I can't see the stencil because of it.”

“Aren't you a professional?” Hisoka shot back.

“I'm not saying I can't do it,” she snapped back, “it's just annoying.”

“Of course,” he answered, chuckling a little.

The woman chose to ignore him, turning her attention back to you and the design she was etching onto your back. Nothing more was said after that, and you found yourself focusing on the feeling of Hisoka's hand on yours. The callouses on his fingers, the edges of his slightly too-sharp nails that could cut through your skin if he really wanted to, and how his thumb continued to brush over your knuckles. Just that was enough to keep you calm in this situation.

“You need a break?” the woman asked you after a while.

“I'm fine,” you answered.

“Okay. Well, I need one, so let's take five,” she said, putting down the gun, “if you need the restroom, it's out the door and to the right.”

She left the room without so much as a word to Hisoka, who let go of your hand as he stood up and stretched his legs.

“There's a snack machine outside; should I get you something?” he asked you.

“I really don't want to eat anything from this place,” you said.

“Not even something sweet? Might be good for you, lift up your spirits a bit,” he said, rubbing the top of your head.

“I think you deserve a treat.”

You batted his arm away.

“I'm not a goddamn dog,” you grumbled.

He didn't react to the way you pushed his hand off of you other than to laugh a bit. He then turned away and left the room while you laid your head back down. It had been at least a couple of hours, and you hoped there wouldn't be too much left to finish with the tattoo. Too bad it was on your back and you couldn't get a good look at it to determine how far it was from being finished.

The woman came back in just as Hisoka did, the latter of which was holding a small bag of hard candies. They both sat back down, the woman looking over you and seeing that you hadn't moved at all.

“You sure you don't need a break?” she asked.

“I just want this stupid thing over with,” you answered.

You couldn't see it, but you sensed the way her eyebrows raised at your tone and how she looked over to Hisoka. The clown didn't say anything, instead ripping open the candy packaging with one of those sharp nails and popping a few of the sweets into his mouth.

After a few seconds of nothing happening, she seemed to shrug her shoulders and picked the gun back up to continue with her work.

“Didn't think you were so lenient, Hisoka,” she said after a moment, “the previous number four wouldn't have let his partner speak like that.”

Hisoka actually scoffed at that.

“Like I care.”

The woman didn't say anything to that and continued with the inking process. But now your curiosity was piqued, and you tentatively asked her “the other number four had this done, too?”

“Yeah. Can't quite remember what they looked like now, but he was one of the first to get his partner tattooed.”

“What happened to them after he died?” you asked.

“You mean after he-” she glanced to Hisoka- “killed him? Nobody checked up on them and they starved to death.”

You felt your blood chill at that. There were lots of painful ways to die, but starving to death would be such a long, drawn-out process; to just slowly wither away as you grew weaker and weaker as your stomach caved into itself and you lost so much strength you would no longer be able to move. Whatever fate had in store for you for when you died, you hoped it wouldn't be something like that.

Whoever that poor bastard had been, you hoped they didn't suffer for too long.

“Guess I'm not surprised you couldn't be bothered to let them out after you started with the troupe,” she said to Hisoka.

He shrugged.

“I didn't even know they existed until after they were dead. No one told me about this arrangement. Blame the other members who actually knew about the situation before you blame me.”

“You were the one to kill him,” she pointed out.

“If he wanted to keep his place he should have been stronger,” he said, placing another piece of candy into his mouth, “if it mattered that much to you then why didn't you let them out?”

“I'm not paid for that.”

“Ah, of course.”

There was silence after that, and another hour passed. Hisoka decided to entertain himself by slipping pieces of the hard candies past your lips one at a time, his sharp fingernails scratching your lips. You ended up slapping his hand away after a certain point, much to the mild astonishment of the tattoo artist.

“Still can't believe you of all people would allow that,” she said, “other members of the troupe would have been raging.”

“I don't like things that are broken,” Hisoka answered, running a hand through your hair.

“Pets are much more fun when they have a bit of bite.”

She couldn't see the way you glared at him for that comment.

The completion of the tattoo couldn't come fast enough, and it was of great relief to you when she finally pulled back and announced that she was done. She was saying something to Hisoka about how to take care of it to avoid infection, but you didn't pay it much mind, instead grabbing your shirt that Hisoka held out to you and pulling it over your head.

You paused ever so briefly during that, as you felt the sensation of something dripping down your back. You were quick to pull the shirt down the rest of the way, glancing back and finding some relief that she wasn't looking at you.

After receiving payment from Hisoka, you were both practically shooed out of the parlor. Despite her overall calm demeanor, she seemed to have little tolerance for handling Hisoka in large doses and wanted the clown out as soon as possible. It wouldn't have surprised you if he had decided to try and linger a little longer just to see if he could goad more reactions out of her, but he seemed to be just as eager as you were to leave.

The walk back to the hotel you were staying at was done in silence. That uncomfortable sensation was still there, running down your back and making you cringe as you felt like something was collecting above your waist.

The second the door of your hotel room was locked shut, you pulled your shirt off and exposed your back to Hisoka.

“Take it off,” you said.

“Don't you want to see how it looks first?”

“Hisoka, the blood packet is leaking. I can feel it pooling up at the bottom,” you hastily explained, “I want this stupid thing off of me.”

“If you insist,” Hisoka answered.

He reached forward, his nails catching on a particular spot just below your neck, and like peeling off a band-aid, Hisoka peeled off the sheet of texture surprise that he had placed over your back, the thin packet of fake blood he had hidden beneath the fake skin falling to the floor as he did so.

Just as you had said, there had been liquid pooling up at the bottom of the sheet, and when it was pulled away, some of the blood fell both onto the floor and your pants.

“Shit-!”

You immediately went to the bathroom, throwing your shirt to the side as you grabbed a towel off the rack and held it under the faucet. There was a coating of red covering your back, as expected, and you went about trying to clean the liquid off. Unfortunately, it seemed like your pants were permanently ruined. But you preferred that over that woman potentially discovering your ruse.

You managed to wipe the blood off, but you definitely needed a shower. Before doing that, however, you stuck your head out of the bathroom door to see Hisoka sitting on the bed, shuffling through cards as usual.

“I'm going to take a shower,” you told him.

“Just a moment,” he said, setting the cards aside and motioning for you to come closer.

With a sigh, you went to him, climbing onto the bed and allowing him to pull you onto his lap. You glanced at the side table, noting the sheet of nen that had been on your back for the past few hours sitting there. It didn't look like your skin anymore and was back in its normal form of a white sheet, though the ink that had been used was now embedded into it. The tattoo was larger than you had anticipated, and you were grateful you didn't actually need to have that thing permanently inked into your back.

“You'll be able to recreate that whenever you need to?” you asked.

“I do it all the time with mine, don't I?”

“Mm. Although I really have to question if that's going to be necessary. Are you expecting members of the troupe to just randomly lift up my shirt to make sure it's actually there?”

“You wouldn't want to risk a situation where it would be discovered that it wasn't there, now would you,” Hisoka replied.

“Fair enough,” you said with a shrug, “I guess I should just be grateful we went to all this trouble and you didn't just let them put that on me.”

“And allow the troupe to make a permanent mark on what belongs to me? Hardly. If I went so far as to mark you, I'd want my own brand,” he said.

“I don't know if I want that; you'd probably pick something stupid.”

He pouted at you.

“You're always so mean to me whenever we're alone; makes me feel like you don't actually like me.”

“I seem to recall something about pets with bite?”

Hisoka smirked, conceding as he nodded at you. Then, in a move that was somewhat atypical of him, he pulled you in closer until you were resting against his chest. You didn't question it or protest; there was that stupid part of you that genuinely liked the clown, after all.

The oddly quiet moment allowed your mind to wander, and your thoughts went back to what that woman had said about the original number four and his partner and the absolutely miserable way in which that partner had died. You didn't need to fear that same exact death; you were free to go where you liked, so being locked up with no food wouldn't be an issue if Hisoka unexpectedly died. At most you'd get kicked out of that room he had in Heaven's Arena, but that wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen.

The worst thing would be if Hisoka messed up and the troupe came after you because of it.

“You get so quiet whenever you're around the troupe. I think most of them would be shocked if they knew how you usually are,” Hisoka whispered.

It was true. You virtually clung to Hisoka whenever you were forced to meet up with the troupe. He always seemed to enjoy it, and not many of them bothered coming up to you. It was that part of you that worried you would somehow ruin his plans. Somehow, you would manage to let slip something you shouldn't and the truth would be revealed. Better to keep your mouth shut to avoid that scenario entirely and try to blend in with the rest of the significant others with their miserable expressions and occasional broken bones.

“When do you think you'll be able to fight Chrollo?” you asked.

“It's impossible to say. His movements are a mystery to everyone, so I need to wait for an opportunity to present itself.”

He ran those fingernails through your hair.

“So lets keep playing nice until then,” he told you.

“Mm.”

Play along until Hisoka got what he wanted, wait a few months after, and then he'd move on to a new obsession, a new opponent he wanted to fight. It was honestly a pretty miserable situation to be in, and yet you willingly stayed. Although if you did try to leave, you weren't so sure he would let you go so easily.

Hisoka wasn't a good person. And there was definitely something wrong with you for you to stay with him, even as he dragged you into dangerous situations that you'd never be able to survive without his help.

But one Hisoka running amok was better than the other twelve being allowed to continue as they were. At least there would be less people dying.

And still that question simmered in your mind: what would the troupe do to you if they found out Hisoka's true intentions?

You pulled away and he looked back down at you.

“Can I get my shower already?”

#hxh hisoka #reader insert #hisoka x reader #Hisoka #hisoka morow #hxh x reader

[gumnut-logic]

The Tattoo (Part Ten, Bit 2 - The End)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven - Bit 1| Bit 2 | Part Eight - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Part Nine | Part Ten - Bit 1 | Bit 2

Okay, I’ve been staring at this all day. I have no idea what I’ve written anymore so I’m just going to dump this here and run ::hugs::

For @vegetacide​ cos it is her fault. Many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @vegetacide​ and @scribbles97​ for the read throughs, plot help and support. This was a bloody hard one to write. It started with Virgil, but Scott ate me alive. 2848 words, fic total 18,111 words.

I hope you enjoy whatever the result was.

-o-o-o-

“Son, sit down.” He waved him to a chair across from him.

A sigh. So, interview it was.

He loved his father. Would go to the ends of the solar system and beyond for him, but some things never changed. Jeff Tracy was a determined man.

At least Scott knew where he got it from.

He killed the coffee machine and made his way back to the table, this time taking up a seat that set his back to the shadow of Mateo.

Grey eyes latched onto him.

“I’m proud of you son.”

Blink.

His father reached over and took his hand.

Scott’s eyes widened. Dad had never been one for a great deal of physical contact, but that had changed since he came back. Scott stared at the scarred fingers holding his.

“Son, I…” His father swallowed. “I need to know your brother is okay.”

Scott frowned. “Virgil is okay, Dad. I promise.” It was what he had been saying all along.

A drawn out sigh. “I need to know if being part of International Rescue is in Virgil’s best interest.”

Eyes widening, Scott pulled back, his hand slipping from his father’s as his back straightened. “Dad, no.”

A held-up hand. “Hear me out.”

“Dad, this happened a long time ago. International Rescue is our lives, Virgil’s life. You can’t take it away from him.” A pause. “I won’t let you.”

Those old grey eyes latched on to him and his father’s lips thinned. “Is he on medication?”

“Dad, you need to speak to V-“

“Is he on medication?”

“Yes. It is handled and monitored. Virgil is fine, Dad!”

His father made a sorrowful sound that cut Scott to the quick, before burying his face in his hands. “I wish…” It was muffled, but Scott heard it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. If I had known…” But his voice drifted off and Scott was left staring at his father, his heart sinking more by the minute.

“We made it, Dad. We’re okay.”

His father’s head shot up. “How can you say that? Virgil is suffering from a mental illness exacerbated by his job. Yet you tell me he should keep doing that job despite what it is costing him.”

Voice quiet but firm. “It is his decision, Dad.”

“And what happens if it becomes too much? What if-“

“Dad! It is under control. Virgil is an adult. He knows what he is doing and yes, if something does go wrong, he has all of us. We back each other up. None of us are perfect. We work as a team.”

Grey eyes snapped at him. “What else don’t I know?”

Scott held back a snarl. “What else do you want to know? If you think I’m going to give you the lowdown on all my brother’s personal information, dream on, Dad.”

Those eyes didn’t falter. “Then what about you?”

“What about me? Have I had moments? Of course, I have. You know this job, Dad. It can be hell. And yes, there is a whisky stash in your desk. There always has been.” He returned that piercing glare with one of his own.

“I never claimed to be perfect, son.”

“And neither did we. Virgil’s mental health is his business. He prefers to keep it to himself. I’m aware of it. It is being managed. End of discussion.”

The steel in his father’s eyes did not vanish. “I only want what is best for my children.”

Scott’s lips thinned as he stood up. “We’re not children anymore.”

“I know that, son, but I’m still your parent.”

The tension in Scott’s shoulders only tightened. “Dad-“

“You know, I always remember Scotty being a bit of a clone of you, Dad, but up until now, I’d never really seen how much.”

A blink as Gordon slipped out of the darkness beside the stairs. He had his swimwear on and a towel thrown over his shoulder. His posture was casual, but Scott could see the tension in his shoulders. “Gordon-“

“Hey, Dad, welcome to the whacky world that is International Rescue, your local rescue organisation run by five brothers of questionable sanity. Here be the eldest, a strong, masculine heartbreaker who has an obsession complex that can drive the whole family out of the solar system. His back up and apparently medicated…” He glared at Scott. “…second in command, artist and sensitive type who takes on far too much and suffers for it. Coordinated by our communications guru who is so introverted he can’t go to parties without breaking a sweat. Not to mention our aquanaut who suffers from PSTD because his body was broken six ways to Sunday and yet still managed to survive. And finally, our kid brother who has yet to be traumatised enough to sport a mental illness, but give him time.” A sigh. “Honestly, Dad, what did you expect?”

“Gordon!”

“Scott, c’mon! Face it. It’s a hard job. We do it. Shit happens.”

Their father climbed to his feet. “Are you finished, son?”

Gordon glared at his father. “That depends.” His lips tightened. “Are you seriously considering pulling Virgil from IR?”

Scott flared. “That is not on the table.”

That earned him a brown-eyed glare. “Isn’t it? The fact you are questioning Virgil’s ability to do a job he has excelled at for years…” The glare returned to his father. “I just thought I’d let you know that if you do choose to do that, you can go find yourself another aquanaut. Because Virg goes? I’m going with him.”

“Virgil isn’t going anywhere!” The mere thought of losing any of his brothers… “Gordon, Dad just had some questions-“

“Yeah, questioning if the heart of this outfit was able to do his job.” Gordon rounded on his father again. “If you had seen what Virgil is capable of, you wouldn’t have any questions.”

“Gordon, for god’s sake!”

Their father held up a hand. “It’s fine, Scott. As you said, Gordon has a right to his opinion.” His voice was quiet enough to bring Gordon’s ire to a halt and the sudden gap in conversation let the sounds of the ocean in through the open doors. “But as your father, I have a right to my opinion also. I need information. Scott has been in command for those eight years, so I am asking him for a report.”

“On our brother.”

“On a staff member of International Rescue.” An indrawn breath. “And my son.”

“Then perhaps you should speak to your son.” Those brown eyes flared.

“I intend to.” Those grey eyes turned back to Scott. “However, I was hoping to put him through the least amount of stress by gathering enough information beforehand, in particular what instigated this issue.”

Scott straightened again. “I’m sorry, Dad. That is not my story to tell.”

“Even as Commander of International Rescue?”

Ever so quiet as his eyes held his father’s. “Even then.”

They were all interrupted by the whine of a not-quite-out-of-teenagerhood-despite-being-an-adult at the top of the stairs. “Oh, c’mon, John. I don’t need a warm milk.”

Smooth musical tones. “You had a nightmare, Alan. Warm milk is the best option for a quick return to sleep.”

“Really? Have you got a stash up on Five? Doesn’t that UHT milk taste vile?”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“Blech!” His little brother caught sight of the three of them. “Wha-? What’s going on?”

Scott just felt sad as Alan and John took the last few steps into the room. But then John’s eyes had that wiser-than-you-know look about them and Scott’s shoulders knotted just that bit more.

Hiding anything from John was futile. And Alan?

John played for keeps.

As if subjected to an antibiotic for anger, Gordon’s stance changed immediately. “Woah, John, you got the squirt up before the sun? How did you manage that without the side effect of death?”

“He had a nightmare.” There was something in his brother’s eyes.

“John! Geez, it was only a bad dream. I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“One that had you screaming.”

“John!”

Scott stepped around the table. “You okay, Allie?”

“Oh, god, John. Now look what you did.”

The elder astronaut had a rather knowing smirk on his face.

Scott glared at him.

He put a hand on Alan’s shoulder anyway and squeezed gently.

His little brother growled at him. “I’m fine. It was time to get up anyway.”

“It’s before noon, Alan.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“Hey, I just have your teenage need for sleep at heart.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“That’s enough, you two.”

“He started it!”

“Alan.”

“Scccottttt…” It was pure whine and a strong sign that Gordon was probably right. Alan needed more sleep.

“You going to grab some warm milk?”

“Heck, no. That was John’s idea. I was just going to plug in some tunes, but he demanded I come down here. What are you guys doing anyway? Dad?”

Scott shot John with his eyes. This was worth a discussion later.

The smart ass just shrugged and smiled that smile of his.

“Dad?” Alan left Scott and hurried over to the table. “You okay?”

Scott spun to find their father reaching for his cane. Alan was there in a second and handed it to him. His little brother had an arm wrapped around his father and whether his help was wanted or not, he gave it.

“Are you okay, Alan?”

Alan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Dad. Johnny is just making a big thing out of nothing.”

As usual, the ‘Johnny’ moniker riled the astronaut. “You were calling Virgil’s name.”

The room froze.

Alan shot daggers at John from under his father’s arm. “Thanks a bunch.”

John tilted his head. “Well, you were.” He held up his hands. “Just trying to help.” But his eyes flickered to Scott.

He glared back. Yeah, right.

John’s small smirk just wound Scott up further.

But he would kill his middle brother later, right now, Alan was the concern. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nooo.”

“Is this about Virgil’s tattoo?” His father’s voice was quiet and a little sad.

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m eighteen. Not a kid anymore.” It wasn’t a ‘no’.

“Age has nothing to do with dreams, son. I have nightmares all the time. Even some about you.”

Alan shrunk back just a little. “Me?”

Their father nodded and Scott’s heart finished its plummet somewhere amongst the flagstones.

“About all of you. Sometimes you’re calling out to me and I can’t answer. Sometimes you’re hurting and I can’t help. Sometimes all of you are just gone.” He looked up at Scott. “In more ways than one. That I’ve lost you. That my one misstep cost us everything. Even now I find it hard to believe that all of you are here safe and sound.” His voice hitched on that last word and Scott knew the truth. Knew that they weren’t as sound as they could be.

“We’re here, Dad. All of us.” Alan was looking up at his father in that same way that eleven-year-old had looked up at Scott all those years ago. Eighteen years or not, his little brother still had faith.

“I know.” He tilted his head and caught Alan up in his arms, burying his face in his youngest’s hair. “It doesn’t stop the dreams, though, kiddo. I’m still scared.”

Scott swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” It was muffled against their father’s shirt.

“Not your fault. I just wanted you to realise that we all have bad dreams from time to time.”

“Heh, I know. Gordon walks and talks in his sleep.”

“Hey! I’m over that!”

Alan poked his head up. “Newsflash, bro. Virg had to lead you back to bed three nights ago. Found you by the pool at two am talking to your ‘coach’.”

“Aw, shit.”

“Language, son.”

Gordon ignored his father. “Why didn’t Virgil tell me?”

Scott was more concerned as to why Virgil hadn’t told him.

“Dunno. You’ll have to ask him.”

Gordon muttered to himself about locks and tying himself to the bed.

Dad looked at Scott. “How long has this been a problem?”

Yet another sigh. “Long term, Dad. Left over from the Olympics. Flares when he’s worried. Hasn’t happened for a while. We have strategies.”

“Are there any other issues I don’t know about?” It was asked of the room at large, but Scott knew it was aimed at him. He pressed his lips together.

“Plenty, but they are all managed and safe.” The familiar baritone echoed down the stairwell and Virgil, trailing Grandma, was the last brother to join them.

His dark eyes ranged over the family gathering, obviously making an assessment and drawing conclusions. “Did I miss a meeting?”

His brother’s arm was strapped up but he was otherwise shirtless. It was obviously a statement because Virgil never went shirtless…ever.

He looked tired and worn.

“Virg, what are you doing up?”

It was Grandma who answered. “He needed his medication and I thought he could do with something in his belly before he goes back to bed.” She stepped past her grandson and headed towards the kitchen.

A quick glance at Gordon and the aquanaut was moving. “Hey, Grandma, let me help you with that…” He followed her into the kitchen proper obviously vetoing any villa-burning-down attempts in the making.

Virgil took the last few steps onto the flagstones and eyeing all of them, made his way towards Scott, suspicion on his face. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Some.”

“Obviously not enough.”

He turned to their father. “Dad, you’re up a little early, too. Anything I can help you with?”

It was a blatant barb. It was obvious Virgil thought he was the topic of discussion and Scott didn’t blame him.

“Just finding my feet again, son.”

Virgil nodded once before turning to Alan who was still holding onto their Dad. “You okay, Allie?”

“He had a bad dream, Virg.” It was shouted from the kitchen.

“Gordon, I’m gonna kick your ass!”

“You and what army, squirt?”

“Gordon!” It was choral – Scott, Virgil, John, Dad and Grandma.

“That army, idiot!”

“Alan!” Same chorus, younger name.

“He started it.”

“He always starts it and you always fall for it.” Scott glared at his little brother. He really was too tired for this. “It’s early. Get yourself some food or drink and back to bed. I’m going for my run.” The early morning pre-dawn glow was now bright enough to see by and not kill himself. God, he needed some time alone.

The expression on his father’s face clearly showed the man wanted to talk further. “Dad, give it time, please?”

His father blinked, but didn’t say anything.

“Trust me.”

He straightened. “I trust you, Scott.”

“Thank you.”

Scott turned to Virgil. “And you, wear your uniform next time. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Thunderbird Two.” He threw a glare at his second for emphasis.

That brought his brother up short. “FAB.”

“And fix whatever caused the accident so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Uh.” Virgil appeared suddenly panicked.

“Virg? What did cause you to fall?”

His brother’s face fell and he slumped with a wince. “A bat startled me.”

“What?”

“Did I just hear that correctly?” Gordon was far too gleeful in the kitchen. “Did you get scared by a bat?!”

“Shut up, Gordon.” It was the chorus again.

The aquanaut might have said something more, but a small explosion on the stove had him yelping and hurrying to wipe milk off the walls.

“It was a bat, okay? It startled me, I stepped back and fell. Can we ignore that now, please?”

“I’ll speak to Brains about finding a bat deterrent to keep them off the ‘birds.” Scott was firm.

Virgil turned to him and there was nothing but gratitude in his eyes.

“And if I hear anyone bugging Virgil about this, they will be cleaning all six of Two’s modules with a toothbrush. Is that clear?”

There was a muttering of assent among his brothers.

Gordon had milk in his hair.

Scott turned to John. “You and I will be having words, Thunderbird Five.”

“What did I do?” The astronaut was innocence itself.

“Strong words, Thunderbird Five.” He glared even more for emphasis.

John shrugged. “FAB.”

Alan. His littlest brother was still holding their father and didn’t appear to be separating from him any time soon. “Allie, you want to talk. Any of us will listen, you know that. Dad included.”

The young astronaut looked at his feet. “I know, Scott. Thank you.”

“We all have bad times. We get through them together.” His eyes drifted up to his father. “We do this together.”

Those strong arms held Alan even tighter and his father gave him a single nod.

Scott took a step back and stared at his family, wishing briefly that Kayo was home and Penny, Parker and Brains were there as well, even if just to complete the picture.

“Grandma, I love you. Gordon, don’t burn the kitchen down.”

And with that, he turned towards the pool, ran out on the deck and into the beginnings of the day.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #jeff tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy

[dailytomlinson]

Back in December, a month before Louis Tomlinson’s debut album Walls was released, I had the honor to attend one of his album release parties in Atlanta, Georgia.

I expected my year to go differently: to travel across the country to attend several Louis shows. Little did I know sitting in the local bar in Atlanta it would be the last time I would see the musician who changed my life for the foreseeable future.

Even though nine months have passed, I can still say it was one of the greatest days of my life.

The three-hour drive to Georgia felt like five, but once the Atlanta skyline appeared over the Interstate, my mind filled with anticipation and excitement knowing I would hug Louis in near hours and hear Walls for the first time. Being in a bar with Louis just hanging out with only a few selected fans seemed unfathomable. We checked into our downtown hotel, which was paid for by Sony, and got ready with only a few hours to spare.

Once the Uber dropped us off at the bar, reality hit me. I would be in close proximity inside with the artist who shaped and saved my life — and I just wanted to remember it forever. I wanted to stay frozen in this moment. As we waited outside, the radio host, Adam Bomb, handed us papers to write our questions on. He reminded us to keep the questions respectful and music-centered if we wanted them to be considered. My question was, “I know songwriting is the major part of the album process for you. Can you talk a little bit about your songwriting process?” It wasn’t asked, but one of Bomb’s questions was about his writing process.

Fifteen long minutes waiting outside in the cold, and we were inside. The radio station confiscated our phones at the door to protect Louis’s unreleased music. A couple of tables surrounded a high chair, where Louis would sit for the interview.

My friends and I sat at a table straight across from the chair with a clear view of Louis. Adam Bomb sat in the chair next to Louis’s, and he flipped through the cue cards for preparation of the exclusive event.

“Please welcome to the room, Louis Tomlinson!”

Louis, dressed in a black sweater, jeans, and the usual sneaker, walked out from a curtain in the corner of the room. Smiley and waving, he admired the small room of fans who cheered and shouted for his entrance.

He sat in his chair, inches from where my friends and I sat, smiling occasionally at our table. Adam asked Louis a couple questions about the album (I can’t even recall what because I sat there in silent awe admiring him). It was the happiest I ever felt. It was an out-of-body experience where I wanted to pinch myself to wake up. I just couldn’t believe this was real.

As Louis exited the room, Adam talked to the crowd about how special and exclusive it is for us to hear songs from an unreleased album. He reminded us to be respectful and to enjoy Louis’s hard work.

The first track played. “Too Young.”

The audio was extremely quiet, and Louis shouted from behind the curtain, “Oi! Turn it up!” We all laughed, and Bomb turned up the volume letting the poetic words be heard. The room was silent with everyone intensely listening to the love song. I sat with my jaw open, and tears immediately filled my eyes. I couldn’t believe Louis wrote something so poetic and purposeful. Immediately, I knew this album would be better than anyone expected.

Louis’s photographer, along with the radio station’s, captured fans’ reactions and even recorded and photographed my friends and me from across the room. I felt so humiliated that my tears and freak-out with my friends were being documented, but one of the workers later told us our reactions made the room fun and she could tell how much he meant to us.

Later, a photo of me and my friends was plastered on Louis’s and the radio’s social media.

We listened to “Perfect Now” and “Walls” and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Louis peaking around the curtain wanting to see our reactions to his years of hard work. He signaled to his security guard to give us tissues and he came to our table and handed us napkins for our tears.

After we listened to the songs, Louis sat back down for the interview. He said it was a beautiful thing to see a reaction like that from fans after working so hard as a solo artist. It was evident he loved being in a room with fans, we mean so much to him and we make him extremely comfortable.

He talked about the tour and how he wanted to keep it authentic and intimate for the fans. Bomb asked about his Live Life Love show in Nashville days prior, which I attended, and when we clapped he laughed and said, “Yeah, yeah, you were there.” I couldn’t believe he remembered us from the meet-and-greet just days ago.

Bomb followed up with his joke and asked if he sees fans freak out on the front row, and then he pointed at us and said, “You’ve been front row, I know you have,” smiling and laughing at our shocked faces.

https://twitter.com/Q997Atlanta/status/1202402335168901123

Bomb asked a couple of fan questions. Louis talked about his writing process, tour, and Walls. The interview was kept professional and exciting, which I appreciated.

After the interview, Bomb invited everyone to the front for a group selfie. Things became extremely intense when Louis was almost mobbed by fans who shoved chairs down to run up to him. Rylee, a fan Louis donated money to make her home accessible, was blocked by fans from coming to the front to be seen. At this exact moment, I knew I spent ten years of my life supporting the right person. He firmly asked the girls to move so Rylee could come to the front, and when they didn’t, he walked to the back and moved a chair out of her way so she was able to be seen in the photo. I wanted to sob when I saw him go out of his way for someone who has spent most of her life looked over. He truly has a heart of gold.

After the selfie, we lined up for the meet and greet with him. His smile was so contagious and he greeted every fan with a warm hug. He signed Donny jerseys and drew tattoos for fans, and as the line inched closer, my eyes filled with tears and my heart raced. Before I knew it, my friend was hugging Louis and he looked me up and down, arms wide open for a hug greeted with a huge smile. We talked briefly, I hugged him again, and I walked off. It’s hard to put into words, but his positive energy is contagious and hugging him feels like home. He’s such a special soul.

After I met him, they made us leave the bar, and my friends and I waited to wave him bye as he left. I wanted to have a tattoo drawn by him, but my anxious mind forgot. Maybe one day, though. My friends and I hung outside for a while and the radio team interviewed us for their social media.

https://twitter.com/Q997Atlanta/status/1202437699317174273

To be in the room for such a special moment to share with an artist you’ve looked up to is truly the greatest feeling ever. I never want to forget how happy and excited I was during those thirty minutes. Leaving the party, I wanted to be able to listen to the songs over and over — but I couldn’t for another month. Being one of only a handful of people who heard Walls before its release was so special yet so tough at the same time. It was hard to keep everything to myself and not leak spoilers, but I knew I had to do it for Louis. I wrote down lyrics and everything I could remember from the album to cherish until Walls was released.

My closest friends were able to join me on this once in a lifetime journey, and here’s what they had to say about the experience.

What was your favorite moment from the party?

Caitlin: My favorite moment was telling him that I would see him four times on tour. His response was, “Thank you, love,” and he looked so happy when I told him that.

Bri: My favorite moment from the listening party is whenever we took the group picture with Louis! He realized this little girl named Rylee wasn’t anywhere near and went out of his way to go help her get into the picture. He ended up putting her in the front with him and that just warmed my heart to the max.

Makayley: My favorite moment from the party was definitely hugging him and watching him interact with Rylee, but I also loved listening to the songs with everyone and the excitement of it all.

How did you react when you found out you won?

Caitlin: It was super last minute when I found out I was able to go. I was super excited because I have always wanted to attend a listening party.

Bri: When I found out I won passes to the listening party, my mind went everywhere! I was crying, shaking, screaming, and panicking. I was the last winner, the last hour. It was CRAZY!

Makayley: I had a panic attack in math class and um thirty minutes later (oops)

What was your favorite song from the three we heard?

Caitlin: My favorite song was “Perfect Now.” Something about it put me in the feels.

Bri: My favorite song out of the three we listened to has to be “Perfect Now.” The lyrics spoke to my soul. Especially the lyric that said, “Keep your head up, love.” Just due to the fact, I’ve gone through some difficult times in life and just hearing that sent me into orbit. I was crying a lot at first but then went into a place of peace and happiness.

Makayley: “Walls” definitely.

What was your initial reaction from the songs?

Caitlin: I was really impressed with the lyrics. Being able to listen to those songs for the first time was super special. I thought the sound was definitely in his lane.

Bri: I could not just have one reaction to the songs we heard. I was happy, sad, surprised, a random emotion you can’t even describe.

Makayley: I was just really proud knowing how hard he had worked on it and how far he’s come.

Did Louis answer your question? What was his response

Caitlin: Louis did answer my question about which song off the album are you most excited to play on tour to which he responded, “Probably ‘Kill My Mind.’”

Bri: No, Louis did NOT answer my question but I was happy with the ones that did get answered.

Makayley: No.

Do you wish they did anything differently about the party?

Caitlin: I wish they would have allowed us more time to talk and spend with him. the meet and greet was rushed I think. but overall it was a fun experience.

Bri: Absolutely not. It was fine as it was. So close together, we all understood each other, etc.. It was amazing!

Makayley: No, I liked the way it was very chilled out and in the setting, it was (my only problem was with the accessibility of it).

What was meeting Louis like for you?

Caitlin: Super special. it was so nice to get to say hi to him and just tell him how much I love him and couldn’t wait to see his tour.

Bri: Meeting Louis was anxiety-filled. It was my first time ever meeting one of the people I look up to. Overall, it was an amazing experience. Louis was the sweetest and most genuine person ever!

Makayley: Meeting Louis was definitely a monumental moment as for all he had helped Rylee and myself with. But, hugging him definitely got me through a rough patch, and the feeling that the hug gave me still helps me to this day.

#united by pop #louis tomlinson #with fans #281020 #press

[monsterenergysimp]

Spit It Out

masayoshi x fem! reader 

summary: you help John with his stream and he has something to tell you after 

request: [...]a scenario where reader and john are best friends so she helps him with his twitch tattoos vid. someone suggests to put reader’s name on his forehead so he asks her to do it for him. she was writing it on his forehead and his head was at her chest level. he realizes that he likes her and starts blushing at the distance between each other. so he hugs her and confesses (mumbling in her shirt and staining it) she laughs and hugs back. John then goes crazy and starts playing celebrating music while reader just watches with full love. and add any cute fluff bonus if u want.

warnings: cursing, slightly suggestive

word count: 705

notes: This is proof read but I could have missed some stuff. If you changed your user tell me so I can update it in the tag list. Sorry for taking so long to get to your requst but I hope you like it! I was excited to get it because my friend told me about his streams a few days before I got this one. Hope everyone enjoys :) 

main blog: @itsmysleepover

John has gone into his room to stream. He was going to use a temporary tattoo kit to give himself “tattoos” on stream. You were busy in your room with some work stuff and left him to his devices. You two had been friends for years and you had to admit that you’ve developed a bit of a crush on him over that time. You didn’t say anything obviously because one, he was your best friend, and two, you lived together. Those two things would only complicate your relationship.

You thought heard your name be called and took your headphones out. You looked up confused before you heard it again and realized John was calling you. You got out of your seat and went to his door. You didn’t enter his room but instead poked your head in. “What do you need?” You asked him from your place outside.

“I need your help with my sleeve, are you busy?” He asked you hopefully. While you didn’t do it often he enjoyed it when you two would do something on stream together. Whether that was gaming or something stupid like this. You nodded and walked in all the way.

John soon realized you didn’t have somewhere to sit so he stood up and offered you his chair. You sat down and looked around at his set up processing everything that was happening on his monitors. You looked over at his arm and gasped. “What the fuck is that!” you said. You stared at the weird face drawn in ink that was stamped to his arm.

“It’s poki,” he responded nonchalantly trying not to laugh.

“She looks awful! Poki I’m sorry he did this to you,” you said looking into the camera. John laughed at your reaction and handed you the applicator with the temporary ink.

You quickly moved on from the mess he was trying to say was Poki. His next tattoo was selected and soon you were drawing a laughing Pepe on his wrist. When you finished it didn’t look that bad. You drew a few more tattoos laughing as you saw the lackluster outcomes of them all. You were happy to be there and close to John.  

“Isn’t there that one streamer that’s a tattoo artist?” You asked John and the chat. “She’d be good at this I think.” You went back to writing the word penis in cursive near his elbow. You drew a few more before announcing that you were almost out of ink. The lower half of his arm was covered in your drawings. “If we’re almost out this last one has to be the best one!”  He said. It was decided that you would write your name on his forehead.

“Oh no,” he said and chuckled nervously. The ink would last three to four days and he was not excited about that. You stood up and he sat down in the chair. You leaned down and John’s face became level with your chest. Even though you were wearing a slightly baggy shirt your breasts were still in his face. Your face started to heat up. Once you finished and pulled away you looked at him. His face was completely red. You stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before breaking apart and looking at the chat.

“Okay if that’s everything I have work to do,” you said and left him to finish his stream. After he was done he walked into your room. You turned your chair so you were looking at him. “Uh, knock next time please.”

“No problem, but I just wanted to talk to you about something super quick,” he said and sat down on your bed. “Uh, okay so I have to tell you something and it is probably gonna have a bad outcome.”  

“What do you need John, just spit it out.”

“I think I like you. I really like being with you and you’re so much fun and so pretty and I just really like you Y/N.”

“I like you too John.”

“Really?”

You were looking down at your hand and smiling. “Yeah, I do.” He jumped up and started celebrating. You looked up at him, certain that you loved him.

tag list: @watermelon-mess @oldblackandwhitetown @susceptible-but-siriusexual @gday5sos @ashanti-granville @03ohj @djxrin @grapewish @crapimahuman @saturn2000 @whatawonderfulusername @johnjacobjingleheimerschmidt @lauramacch @socialdesires @teaspill8 @whathasateezdonetome @seutarose @whiteblacknothingpanda @save-the-sky @chrysanthykios

#masayoshi #masayoshi (john) #masayoshi x reader #masayoshi imagines #masayoshi imagine #masayoshi x y/n #masayoshi x you #streamers #youtubers #caffeinated ramblings

[mythgirlimagines]

I hope that you like this more obscure talentswap! This fast-talking mile-a-minute lass lives for all there is to do with justice, for she is Myth, the Former Ultimate Stenographer!

-——————————————————

BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Being born to two hard-working pervayors of justice (attorneys, in fact), Myth always witnessed her parents getting justice served to the people who deserved it, and always wished to follow in their footsteps, so she would always write what her parents said in the court, so she could use it as future reference. Some of the court officials noticed this, and offered to give this girl a position as the court’s professional stenographer, and you better believe she wears that title like a badge of glory, and performs to the highest of capabilities. Myth’s supreme skill in stenographing earned her a spot on the Hope’s Peak roster as the Ultimate Stenographer, and even in her adult years, she is still working hard every day to record the words uttered by the justice system that she holds ever so dear to her heart. But her best friend forced her to take the next couple of weeks off, and chaperone this years Ultimates and Jr. Ultimates.

——————————————————-

RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Kickboxer

Despite being only two inches taller than their friend, Wyre dominated foes way bigger than them, thanks to their strong and wild kicking, which is enough for them to be considered a champion and caused them to earn their position as the Ultimate Kickboxer, and they are still going strong in their adult years. Despite their rough appearance and her equally rough demeanor and behavior, their criminal record is squeaky clean, and for that reason, Myth and Wyre have been only the best of friends for years and years. Wyre is also the only one who can understand Myth’s fast-talking and shorthand speech, and the only person who can stop Myth from over working herself and stressing herself out over minor details. 

Outfit: An orange and sleeveless hoodie over a bandage-wrapped chest, chains on her neck and wrist, sweatpants that match her hoodie, nothing on her feet.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Puppeteer 

As the mastermind and creative genius behind famous horror web series told exclusively through expertly-crafted marionettes and props, and a creepy voice acting as the narrator, Scar commonly calls herself ”The Narrator”, “The Disembodied Voice”, or, most notably of all, “The Puppetmaster”. Oddly enough, despite puppeteering for specifically in the horror genre, and wearing clothes that would be right at home on a cursed and possessed Victorian-era doll, Scar is actually quite the softie in real-life, often acting like a concerned mother to the other Kibo-Con attendees. Scar’s creepy appearance immediately scared Myth away, much to the dismay of the puppet enthusiast.

Outfit: A red beret on her head, cracks drawn on her face making her resemble a haunted doll, a black and white gothic-Lolita style dress, black and white striped stockings, brown platform heels.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Waiter

Garnering fame all around his hometown for his ability to hold several plates of food all at once, while roller-skating simultaneously, Fusion is a waiter at the “Squeaky-Clean Spoon”, a 60s style diner run by his parents and grandparents, that is famous for their chili dogs and selection of songs on their personal jukeboxes. With their shared love for punctuality in their respective duties and their shared concern for their conmates, you would think that the two would get along perfectly. However, Myth caught wind of a certain skeleton in Fusion’s closet, and hasn’t forgiven Fusion since. Fusion desperately wishes to reconcile with his senpai, even if he is siding with an acclaimed thief.

Outfit: A white dress shirt, a red, yellow, and blue striped tie, a red and white apron, white gloves, red and white four-wheel roller-skates, glasses and pants from his original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Thief

As a youngster, Fusion II was born and raised on the streets, and had to steal and loot from any house and store that she happened upon, in order to survive in this dog-eat-dog world. Her natural stealth and clever mindset helps her evade her captors and makes her only the perfect thief. However, a couple of months prior, Fusion II was caught stealing from The Squeaky-Clean Spoon by the owners, and was offered a place to stay at the diner, in exchange for working as one of the diner’s chefs. Because Fusion II and Myth are on opposite sides of the law, they both have a massive grudge against each other, making Fusion II the person Myth gets along with the worst.

Outfit: A black-leather jacket over a pink undershirt, blue-ripped jeans with the same apron as Fusion tied over it, tall black boots, sunglasses from the original design.

Just Anon, Ultimate Tutor 

Tired of his constant truancy, in spite of his stunning genius, Janon’s teachers have forced him to tutor his kohais, as compensation for all of the school days he missed and as a way to learn what actual work feels like. Because Janon can memorize entire textbooks worth of information, he uses all of this knowledge in order to tutor the school children of his neighborhood. While he does equally as well of a job with students older than him, Janon is notably harsher on them, compared to children (his one weakness and soft-spot). Janon shows zero respect for any of his senpais, particularly the stick-up-her-butt stenographer. Myth is oddly intrigued by Janon’s quick retaining of info.

Outfit: The same formal wear that he wears underneath his hoodie from his original design, with a long pink scarf wrapped around his neck (which was knitted by one of his kohais), reading glasses.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Tap Dancer

The famed star of the Spectacular Sparkling Spotlight (or Troupe S3, for short) Dance Troupe, Sparkle and the other girls of her dance-oriented musical theatre troupe are all skilled at all sorts of dance styles, but as her title would suggest, Sparklw (and the rest of her troupe) mainly specializes in tap dancing. A combination of her loud voice, style and grace on the stage, and the sheer amount of knowledge on the world of performing and theatrics, made Sparkle the perfect person to lead her troupe into worldwide stardom. At first, Myth was scared off by Sparkle’s loud and commandeering tone, but eventually (even if she won’t admit it), the skittish stenographer has warmed up to Sparkle.

Outfit; A black and white tuxedo with a matching hat/headband on top of her hair, white gloves, black and pink tap shoes, a sparkly black and white cape, a cane she carries at all times, glasses from her original design.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Graffiti Artist, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Tailor

Egg and Wet Sock are a pair of twins best known for their differently-applied artistic genius. Egg, the older and more physically-gifted (but not particularly bright or sensible) of the two, specializes in colorful and eye-grabbing graffiti, with or without permission from commissioners. Wet Sock, the more brooding and withdrawn (yet equally as cursed) of the two, specializes in custom-made and fitted clothes, particularly those of the emo subculture. Egg’s jokey nature and morally dubious talent puts them at odds with Myth, meaning that, out of the twins, Myth gets along better with Wet Sock, despite their strange and frightening attachment to knives and regularly pulling them out.

Egg’s Outfit: Green-tinted goggles, a splattered bandana covering their nose and mouth, a black tanktop, green cargo pants, black gloves, spray can holsters and boots.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: A simple black and white tuxedo, accessorized with sewing supplies.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Soccer Player

The otherwise ragtag soccer team of Star Summit Co-Ed Middle School has a secret ace up their sleeve, and that ace’s name is Curious Anon. Curious‘s sheer leg strength combined with his strategic mindset and game-breaking power made them popular among soccer fanatics everywhere and makes them truly earn the title of Ultimate Soccer Player. Despite their stoic and permanent game face frightening opponents, as any of their teammates would tell you, Curious is surprisingly kind-hearted and is easy to get along with. Curious’s honest and upfront nature seems to help calm Myth’s nerves, when she chooses to interact with the easygoing middle school soccer star. 

Outfit: A green and white soccer uniform with black cleats.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Skateboarder 

On the other end of the jock scale, we have Anon Nerd, the jerkish and hyper-aggressive Ultimate Skateboarder, and the eldest of the Kibo-Con roster. Because of his less-than-stellar and hyper-violent upbringing, Nerd took it to the skatepark to vent his frustrations with half-pipe tricks. All the time spent at the skatepark made his skateboarding skills escalate and escalate, until he became a pro-skateboarder in his teen years, and eventually the Ultimate Skateboarder. Because of their close-to-opposite personalities, Myth and Nerd don’t get along well in the slightest. Unfortunately, they’ve both developed feelings for each other, that they’ve never experienced before.

Outfit; Hair in a Mohawk with red and black dyed tips, a black tank-top with a bloody skull illustration on the front, black cargo shorts with sheered bottoms, black socks and white sneakers, tattoos on his arms.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Public Speaker

Wanted to wake up the gullible sheep in the world, Eldritch quickly mustered up the confidence (thanks to several online confidence seminar marathons) to go in front of a crowd, and scream at them about all the terrible state the world is currently in, and how they’re all mindless corporate zombies, to let all of those atrocities slide. Despite his reputation as an overzealous Debbie Downer by many of his detractors, he has many fans for his loud and passionate voice and his regular use of peer-reviewed facts, making his speeches far more reliable than they seem. Eldritch’s anti-government attitude puts him at odds with Myth’s heavily pro-government mindset.

Outfit: Neatly combed hair, a black polo shirt with a green pixel design on the bottom, an orange tie, black pants and matching loafers.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Cadet

Despite her sunny and positive attitude clashing heavily against her strict and stoic military family and the rest of her squadron, no one can deny that Dream is a spectacular cadet towards her squadron. She can also play quite the mean bugle. With Dream and Myth opposite temperaments and interactions with others, you‘d be surprised to learn that they have two common point: their shared love of war history and respect for the government. They often like talking about war strategy and re-enacting old wars throughout history, using Dream’s collectible toy soldiers. These activities are one of the few times Myth‘s walls are let down in front of anybody, apart from Wyre.

Outfit: Hair in two small pigtails, a dark green and light green army helmet, black facepaint, a jumpsuit that matches her helmet, black boots with yellow soles.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Cellist

Ever since she was little, thanks to her musician parents (a guitarist father and a violinist mother), Iris has been exposed to music, and eventually chose to follow in her parent’s footsteps with her favorite instrument: the cello. Unfortunately, because of her dislike of crowded spots, Iris couldn’t join an orchestra like she (and her parents) wanted to, so she opted to simply play her cello from home and upload her music online. Regardless of her fears and anxieties, Iris always tries her best to remain positive. Iris may not understand what the hell Myth is even saying, but she always tries her best to strike conversation with her senpai, in hopes that the stenographer can open up. 

Outfit: Silver music note hairpins, a blue denim jacket with silver music note buttons over a black dress with white string designs in the middle, dark grey leggings, dark blue Mary Janes, glasses from original design.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Class Representative

Purple is a student from one of the most prestigious and high-class schools in all of the country, and despite her timid personality, thanks to her strong work ethic and her kind-hearted nature, she managed to secure a position in the school’s hierarchy as the representative of her class. Because of her overly formal and heavily outdated mode of speech that’s more at home with the other students at her uppercrust school, she usually requires a translator (usually Fusion) to make her speech comprehensible to the middle-class conmates. Myth and Purple quickly bonded in true incomprehensible glory, and regularly have conversations that no one but Wyre and Fusion can understand.

Outfit: A black overcoat over a white dress shirt and a red tie, a purple skirt, dark grey stockings, and red Mary Janes, topped off by a red armband on her right arm.

The series centers around the skittish stenographer learning to give potential criminals the chance for redemption.

——————————————————-

PERSONALITY

Stenographer!Myth is renowned upon the justice system for her efficiency in the court and the stoic face she puts on, upon entering a court environment, able to capture speech right down to the tiniest of breaths. But off of the court, she’s the complete opposite, for her speech is about as speedy, jumbled, and incomprehensible as her writing, often requiring Kickboxer!Wyre to translate for her. Stenographer!Myth is often very jittery, when interacting with others, and almost never relaxes or slows down to take a breather. She has zero time for playing or joking around, for a stenographer’s work is never done, and justice never sleeps. Her moral compass and sense of justice is practically removable, which makes sense, considering the environment she lives in. This puts her at odds with people such as Theif!Two. She’ll never admit it, but Stenographer!Myth really cares about each and every one of the Kibo-Con attendees, but she’ll never admit it, for fear of being made fun of or being taken advantage of by a potential criminal hiding amongst the crowd.

——————————————————-

APPEARANCE

Stenographer!Myth has brown hair that reaches her tailbone and wears the same uniform that she wears to court. The uniform consists of a pink headband with a heart pin given by her mother, a blue jacket over a pink dress shirt and a gold pendant with an amethyst in the center, a skirt that matches her jacket, black leggings and ruby red Mary Janes. She carries a stenography machine with her, at all times.

——————————————————-

Phew! I’ve finished this week’s quota! I hope you like this talentswap! Let me hear your opinions on this AU! 

-Fusion Anon

#submission #hmmm yeah i like this one! #anon #fusion anon #art #not my art #talentswap tuesday #fusion anon ii #purple anon #eldritch anon #sparkling anon #curious anon #dream anon #iris anon #just anon #wet sock anon #egg anon #anon nerd #anon scar #my evil twin #anon kg

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Prevaricate (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 7.5k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

a big thanks to the anon that gave me this idea!

–

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” one of the mentors warns Finnick, even going as far to try and grab him. 

Finnick brushes them off without a second blink. He gives his mentors a certain look to shut them up, and then he turns towards your direction. You stand next to the chariot, arms crossed with a mean scowl on your face. Your back is turned towards your friends, so it makes him curious about what had happened between the four of you.

Finnick heads in your direction, digging his index nail into his thumb. He stops beside you, a foot or two away as he waits for you to realize that he’s there. Only, you don’t see him, and it raises a little bit of irritation in his own mind. 

He went from such a good mood to sour in no time…

His eyes wander over your floral tattoos, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them. That won’t raise a good reaction from you, “So, was the outfit purposely designed to show off your tattoos, or was it all a coincidence?”

Once he sees your head turning, he tries to offer a nice smile, to try and be welcoming. Only to be met with those same glaring eyes that you were giving the horses. It’s not really a surprise, he shouldn’t expect your mood to lift just because you’re talking to someone.

He continues to dig his fingernail into his thumb.

You readjust your crossed arms, your hands forming into fists. Finnick resists the urge to make some sort of comment about it. About his presence being somewhat irritating for you or whatever.

“I can’t wait to add you to my graveyard, Odair.” you snap at him.

His eyes have wandered to your right arm--his left--to see the skulls. Black and white, and they’ve got a first and last name to each of them. He leans a little to get a better look, wondering if he’ll recognize any of them, “Is that so?” his eyes meet yours, “You’ll have to catch me first.”

“It’ll be easy, since you’ll be caring for grandma over there.” you say, you jerk your head, his eyes move right back to your arm.

How can you be so hostile all the time? It’s like someone has always pissed in your coffee, you’re hardly pleasant to anyone, especially those you’re making a first impression on. As far as Finnick remembers, he’s never actually met you before, never had the chance to. You got your girl and boy victors, and then handed off the job of mentoring to them like you didn’t care for the job at all.

Hell, Finnick’s found it hard to let go of it.

“Oh really?” Finnick asks, paying attention but trying not to let his irritation shine through.

You’d be such a useful ally to have. With your history of the games, anyone would be sorry not to have you in their alliance. And you volunteered--there’s a plan going on in that head of yours, and he’s got to know.

“What do you want from me?” you ask.

Finnick has gone back to your left arm--his right. This arm isn’t as painful to look at, it’s almost lovely. A very different feel than you give off. If someone had told him that you had such a work on your arm, he wouldn’t believe it. Not with how bitter you are. Bitter and mean.

“Hmm?” he hums, his eyes are stuck on one particular name, it seems a lot more special than the others. Bolded, calligraphy writing. The tattoo artist who wrote this did a phenomenal job, “Who’s Paesyn?”

Finnick sees one large, blur of moment coming from you. His eyes widen for a second, trying to access the situation in what little time he has. Your arm is drawn back, heading straight for his cheek. Finnick catches your wrist in record time, mere inches from his skin. Had you done it, his face would be stinging and he’d have to go out there with a hand mark on his face.

Finnick looks over you measuredly, tilting his head a tad to the right, looking over your face, “You’re hot headed.”

It’s all it takes before you’re screaming in his face.

“You’re a nosy, self-centered, Capitol-raised bitch!” The first sentence leaves your mouth, and it’s enough to turn the heads of your fellow careers friends. Finnick doesn’t mind this, he’s more worried about what’s stirring in his heart, anger, “You’re so cynical that you can’t read a fucking room! You think everyone likes you. You think you can do whatever you want!” you suck in a lung-full of air, “News flash, Finnick Odair, you’re nothing but another pretty face in the sea of victors that are here. No one likes you, as they should.”

Strong opinions, he has to admit it. You yank your wrist free, and Finnick’s eyes widen a little, fearing that you’ll try and hit him again, but you continue shouting, “You’re a filthy human being. I’ll be praying that your death is the first on my hands. I can’t wait until that pathetic girlfriend of yours gets to watch as your body is lowered into a six-foot-deep ditch.”

Suddenly his face is dropping all together, all kindness that he was bothering to have for a decent conversation is gone. That anger only builds when he sees the smug look on your face, as if you think you’ve done something, mentioning Annie like this. Talking about her like she doesn’t have a mind of her own.

She’s human, just like the rest of you.

“You say nothing about Annie.” Finnick can hardly recognize his own voice.

“I can saying whatever the fuck I want about her.” when you stand taller, Finnick clenches his fist, gritting his teeth, your next words should be careful, but they aren’t, “You just don’t like to hear it, because it’s all true.”

Finnick starts forward, full intent of knocking your front teeth out, but there’s peacekeepers appearing between the two of you. One stands in front of Finnick, urging him to go to his own chariot. Finnick grinds his teeth.

Then he catches that fucking look you’re giving him over the peacekeeper’s shoulder, and then he’s resiting a whole new level of anger.

A murderous rage.

--

Finnick loops the rope, pulling the side through to make a second loop. Then, he prepares the end. At the sound of the automatic door whizzing shut, he looks up from his project. Mostly hoping for Katniss and Peeta, but getting you instead.

He’s a lot calmer today, the irritation yesterday definitely wasn’t his fault. He realized that after the tribute parade, when you had come over to apologize. You were much calmer then, and even though the apology of what you said was reluctant, he accepted it anyway.

Having you as an ally wouldn’t hurt. Especially now, with a plan being worked on in the background. Hell, he even asked his mentors to request you as an ally. He didn’t go for Brutus, or the siblings. It was you specifically, because there’s some sort of feeling in his stomach that’s telling him it’s right.

Finnick doesn’t pay too much attention to what you’re doing. One moment you’re talking to the other three careers, and the next you’re working on hand-to-hand combat with one of the Capitol soldiers. He tries not to stare too much, but watching the way you move around the blocks, always knowing where to step, how to move.

It’s entrancing, he can’t help but barely hold onto the mess of rope in his hands, twitching in the directions he would have gone with the moves that the soldier is pulling. It would have gotten Finnick down, but you knew that the soldier wanted you to move that way, so you went the other.

One surge of satisfaction goes through him when you kick the man down. You seem pretty happy yourself, blowing the hair out of your face and going to make conversation with the man. Finnick decides that it’s now or never, tossing the rope onto the cold, cement bench as he heads your way.

You help the man back onto his feet, he sits at one of the lower blocks, and you head upwards, swinging the staff in your hand. Finnick stops a couple of feet away from you, like he did the day before. But now he has to be even more wary; you’ve got a weapon in your hands.

And even though fighting before the hunger games isn’t allowed, it hasn’t stopped either of you yet. You’ve already tried to slap him, and Finnick had the full intent of knocking your teeth out yesterday. Needless to say, the two of you shouldn’t be anywhere near each other, but Finnick has to.

“So what did you tell your mentor?” Finnick asks politely.

You roll your eyes, letting them land on him, “You’re impossible to get rid of.”

Finnick watches as you gracefully take a seat on the block, letting one of your legs dangle, while the other is crossed beneath the thigh. You set the staff next to you, rolling it with your palm.

He can see just how close he’s stopped to you, and so he takes a step or two back. It doesn’t bother him that he has to look up, it’s rather the angle he’s getting. He wants to see you fully, access your body language. Yesterday it had saved him, and today it’ll help him choose his words more carefully.

“What have I ever done to you?” Finnick asks.

“Nothing, thank god.” you nearly laugh, eyes looking him over like you’re sizing him up, Finnick isn’t bothered, “Your existence is enough to set me off.”

Finnick can’t help but to frown a bit, “That’s unfair.”

“Life is unfair. Not everyone has to be pleased with your presence.” you squint, but there’s no sense of hostility just yet.

It’s clear that your speaking patterns are always meant to be mean, hit home close to the person. It’s undoubtedly what happened with your career friends yesterday, with him, and then today with those same careers. You’re always saying something that might be seen as insensitive.

Finnick smiles now, “Oh, I know.”

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent with me in particular. There’s other girls for you to try and swoon.” you motion with the hand that’s still rolling the staff, “Johanna, Cecelia, Wiress, Katniss.”

“Katniss is seventeen.”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” One of your eyebrows raise, it’s a challenge.

She’s clearly referring to his unfortunate time in the Capitol during his youth. Leave it to her to bring up a topic like that, but it’s really like the pot calling the kettle black. He’s not the only one, you’ve been there and done that too. 

“I don’t associate with minors, (Y/n).” Finnick says, making sure that it sticks. He wants you to catch the hint that you’re not like those… people...

It seems to fly right over your head, “That’s right, because you have a girlfriend.”

Finnick presses his lips together, eyes squinting. You’re not really going to wander down this path again, are you? This time he might pull you right down from the blocks and give you a taste of your own medicine right before the peacekeepers come over. And what are the gamemakers going to do about it? Nothing.

“Back to your original question, no, I’m not going to be your ally.” you say, letting go of the staff that you had gripped for a moment.

Finnick raises his head again, he hadn’t realized he lowered it. Either way, it seems like he’s out of a valuable ally. Even if neither of you get along… he’s gotta have you. This won’t be the end, you have to join him and the others. It’s not really a choice anymore.

“Is it because of your distaste for me?” Finnick wonders, eyebrows drawing together. 

“You really could have anyone in this room be your ally, and yet you choose me. Why is that?” you ask, “Is it because I’m mean or difficult?”

He wants to tell you that it isn’t either of them. It’s because you’re dangerous, prepared. That when you volunteered, you had that same dark look on your face that your tributes showed year after year. A certain determination and goal, and they’d do anything to get to it.

He has to lie, he doesn’t have a choice. He can’t risk you knowing, not now. No doubt you’d run off and tell every ear that’s open to listen, “I’m just curious on how well the alliance would be able to hold up in the arena.” Finnick tilts his head, following what you’ve done, “How fast you would try to kill me.”

“Immediately.” you say without missing a beat.

Finnick can’t say he’s surprised, “You’re telling me that I haven’t grown on you at least a little, now? After all the conversations we’ve had.”

You hold up your hand, pressing on your fingers. Finnick knows this ought to be good, if you’re naming points now, “The first one, I called you a cynical prick, the second I was forced to apologize for being too mean and hurting your crybaby feelings, and you’re telling me that this one isn’t any better?”

“Crybaby feelings?” Finnick wants to laugh. Him having crybaby feelings? All he did was mention a name on your arm and suddenly you were on your way to slap him. There was a big difference between your guys’ reactions. He was defending Annie, and you were just being a bitch.

The urge to laugh is gone once he sees the look on your face, “So you didn’t run off to cry to your mentors?”

“You did try to hit me, after all.” Finnick reasons, he also wants to tell you that everyone has their own two eyes, so they were bound to see for themselves, but he tries a nicer approach “They wanted to know what happened.”

“Right, sure.” you roll your eyes.

Finnick smiles, “You’re cute, you know that?”

There’s a change of expression immediately. Your whole face deadpans, eyes narrowing, mouth curling into a snarl. You turn a little red, and if this were a cartoon, there’d be steam coming out of your ears.

It was a harmless statement to him, but clearly you don’t like it. With your jaw all wound up, hand gripping the staff like you’re going to swing it towards him. He guesses that you don’t like the word labeled on you. If he were to take another guess, it’d likely be because you’re never been cute, you’ve always been fire or ice.

Being seen as cute is being seen as vulnerable.

An innocent mistake to him is a grave mistake to you.

Finnick can’t help but to notice a fire crackling in his own chest. He reaches up, rubbing the area because he doesn’t understand it for a moment. He doesn’t feel the need to be defensive, it’s not him that was offended. So, there’s no reason to get mad, not even for you not taking his statement the right way.

It can’t be his own emotion, then. It must be someone else’s.

Finnick looks back up to you, fixing the frown that was beginning to creep onto his face, “Listen, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He watches as you take a deep breath, calming yourself. It seems to work remarkably well, your face begins to return back to its natural color and your face smoothes cooly. No longer gripping the staff--but not rolling it either--your voice is measured, “I am not cute. No matter the way you mean it, I’m not a cute person, and I never will be.”

The fire in his own chest seems to cease, Finnick stops rubbing his hand against his chest in that moment. And his mind takes off with one peculiar thought. 

It’s a little weird that he had begun to feel defensive the same moment that your face turned that red color. Then you calmed down, and that burning feeling in his chest also calmed down.

It all has to be a coincidence, right? It’s a coincidence.

Anyway, it was just as he guessed, you don’t like the gentle things that would change your label from hard to soft. So, instead he takes a different approach. Nodding, he says; “I guess what I should have said is that you’re funny.”

“Funny how?” you’re defensive again, “Funny because I get mad so easily?”

“That and the fact that you also think you’re unlikable. Here’s a newsflash for you: you’re not.” Finnick smiles a little.

“People pretend to like me because they know what happens when they don’t.” you lean towards him, and he knows it’s for an intimidation factor, “I’m sure you can take a solid guess on what I mean.”

Finnick lets out a small laugh, “What, you threaten to kill everyone you don’t like?”

“You’ve been on my list for a pretty long time now.” you say, there’s a head tilt that goes along with it, “I’m lucky that I finally get to fall through on that.”

A list, huh? He’s not bothered by the fact that you don’t like him, you’ve made that clear plenty of times now. But who else could you possibly want to take down with you? Not the careers, he doesn’t think, you’ll want them for your alliance, “Who else is on your list?” Finnick finally asks, hoping that you don’t catch on, “Genuine question.”

If he can find out anyone else that you don’t like and plan on killing, then it’ll be a lot easier to steer them out of your path. Especially if it’s Katniss or Peeta. If you don’t like them, then you’re bound to go after them no matter what it takes. 

“Everyone who has ever done me wrong.” You say simply, there’s a smile on your face.

“Give me an example,” he urges, and then adds, “Besides myself.”

You don’t catch on, “For starters--” you turn your body when you speak. He thinks it’s because you’re searching for the person you’re speaking of, but your finger lands on her easily. You had to have been keeping track of where she’s been moving around. Finnick takes note of that--you’re observant. You continue speaking, “--her.”

Katniss is sitting with Wiress and Betee at the fire starting station. They pay little to no attention to the Capitol person working there. They observe, though, happily. As if they don’t care that they don’t actually get to start, but instead that the tributes already know what they’re doing, well.

Katniss is most definitely making friends like Haymitch had said she would. She was reluctant at the start, but Haymitch said she’d come around. And here she is, choosing two of the most useless tributes to want. Nuts and Volts--as Johanna calls them.

“What has she done?” Finnick’s on the verge of a laugh, he can likely guess why you don’t like her either, but keeps it to himself.

There’s a smile on your face already, when he looks at you, “I’m not one to fight for spotlight, but this year is different.”

Spotlight? You’re here because you want to gain more attention?

He can’t say that he isn’t surprised. He was expecting something else from you. He’s not sure what of, but it wouldn’t be some dumb glory of a two-timing winner. With what you said, there’s no doubt in Finnick’s mind that it’s also what the other careers--Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus--also volunteered for.

Finnick can’t place his finger on it. He just didn’t think you’d want to go back in. Especially since you were so quick to give away your mentor position to your two tributes, as if the job didn’t matter at all. Most career mentors like to live the games through their tributes after they win. It’s the bloodlust that makes them want to go back in for more.

And now he knows that you really are after Katniss, and with that would probably be Peeta too. Which means that the others are likely to follow your lead when it comes to hunting them down…

Makes the situation a whole lot more complicated. Trying to convince you to join his alliance is nearly out the window. There’s no way you’ll be down for what’s being planned if your whole goal is to kill Katniss, Peeta, himself and whoever else. You’ll likely fake your way through the alliance and then try to kill the twelve tributes when you get the chance.

What doesn’t help is that you want the glory. The whole idea is one half of a step from being out the window at this point. Finnick wonders if it’ll be possible to change your mind on it. But with that, he’d have to tell you about the plan, and since you’re District Two--you’re a Capitol Pet…

Finnick can’t leave you hanging, “Because you think you’re going to win?”

“I know I am. And it’ll all work out once I get rid of the only threats. You can identify those on your own, right?” you ask, picking up the staff and deciding to roll it back and forth on your thighs instead. The conversation is nearly over, he knows it, “I didn’t volunteer because I thought I could win. I volunteered because I know I can.”

A certain pride fills his body, it’s in his chest area again. There’s no need to be prideful, especially right now. It’s not his emotion--his emotion would be… oh, he doesn’t know anymore. There’s so much to consider now.

“So, you, Cashmere, Gloss and Brutus in an alliance?” Finnick finally asks, trying to change the topic. Even though he knows he should continue asking questions. But then he’ll risk the chance of being seen as suspicious.

You glance over your shoulder the same moment Finnick’s eyes shift over. He can barely see around the blocks that you’re sitting on to see them. All he can really see is Brutus, and he’s got a certain smug smile on his face. It’s definitely directed towards you and not him.

You look back at Finnick, “What do you think?”

“I wonder where my invitation is at.” Finnick looks at you too.

“You think we’re going to invite you, when you’re clearly going to drag in Mags? Yeah, you’d be just as bad as Peeta.” you roll your eyes.

Mags is no surprise, but Peeta? That’s new information. He thought you’d see Peeta as another threat, considering he was in the career pack last year. 

His eyebrows raise, “What?”

“Peeta is practically dead already, look at how useless he is.” you jut your chin, and Finnick turns halfway to see Peeta.

Peeta’s with Johanna now. Johanna is swinging around her axe, practicing her skills and probably showing off to the gamemakers to get a higher score. He doesn’t know because he only had a brief conversation with her. Peeta’s standing off to the side, out of reach of Johanna. The two of them seem to be talking.

“Does he even know how to fight?” you laugh, it’s a mean laugh.

“Big talk.” Finnick gives you a glance.

“No, just common sense.” you say, moving on, “What about you, Mister Cynical, any alliances?”

What a stupid nickname. The definition of cynical is to think only for yourself. It’s a way to call someone selfish, but the word cynical seems a lot more harsh. It’s a word that no one uses very often.

Finnick turns back to you. He’s going to lie through his teeth, “No, not yet. I was hoping you’d accept my offer to kickstart it.” Why would he bother to offer you into an alliance that you’d likely ditch and ruin? He’d rather you think it was just him and you, and have it be a ‘coincidence’ inside of the arena when the other two join.

“I doubt that you don’t have any alliances by now. No Johanna or Blight? Or are you teamed up with Katniss and Peeta?” Finnick can feel his blood run cold, you’re better at this than he thought. With the way your eyes are running up and down over his face, you’re definitely scanning for something. And then the word that he labeled you with comes to mind; observant, “Or perhaps, both?”

“Stop that.” Finnick snaps before he can catch it.

A teasing smile hints at your face as you suck in your bottom lip. You lean back on your hands, cheerful that you were able to decipher it, “Both it is. It’s nice to know who to look out for and avoid. Now I’ll know that where one goes–the others will follow. I need to know one more thing though, before I end this conversation.”

Finnick’s eyes have drifted, because now he’s mad at himself. He’s blown this entire thing. He looks at you.

“Were you inviting me into the alliance because you want me to fight alongside you guys, or because you wanted to trap me and be able to take me out first?”

At this point, he doesn’t know anymore. Having you fight with them would be fantastic, but with your mindset on the other tributes, he’d have to kill you first. Forget the others--they might have the same goals, but they won’t go to the extent you will.

It’s a long moment of you and Finnick staring at each other. Then, you place the staff on the block, using it to help get to your feet, “Hey, you don’t have to answer, I’ll be finding out soon enough, eh?” you’re spinning the staff between your fingers, “I will be keeping this convo to myself, though. So don’t worry about it.”

No, he will worry. Because this is all it takes. You having a vague idea of the alliance will be enough to make it crumble.

You slam the staff into the block, giving Finnick one last grin before you’re turning around and leaving. Finnick doesn’t stick around too long after, heading towards Mags, hoping that she’ll have some idea of what to do now that he’s screwed it all up.

--

Finnick readjusts the sleeve against his left arm, playing with the fabric at the end of the sleeve. There’s a string that he’s tried to rip off several times now, and it just won’t break off. Even Mags couldn’t get it to part. So now, he’ll just have to deal with it. It’s too late to go back to the apartment.

Especially now since he’s made it to the waiting room. The doors open for him and Mags, the two of them move into the room calmly. Inside, he can see that there are a few districts already inside, with all the careers being there first, respectively. He wouldn’t doubt if you all were the first to sit down, even.

Just as he walks in, you’re pulling off the jacket that you’re wearing, which unintentionally makes it look like you’re showing off your tattoos. In reality, you’re probably warm.

Doesn’t stop him from commenting, “Welcome to the gun show.”

“I really can’t wait until I can knock your fucking teeth out.” you seethe.

“I’m not that bad.” Finnick laughs.

“You are that bad.” you say, not turning to look at him, “I still don’t know what your goal is.”

“I thought we could be friends.” The right word is allies, as it’s been the entire time. But you won’t bite. You didn’t even bite when you thought that he would be teamed up with Johanna, Blight, Katniss or Peeta. Which he thought was a little odd when he finally had time to think it over, later on with Mags.

“You thought wrong, my friends are sitting right here.” You say, and Finnick doesn’t miss the snicker that comes out of Brutus.

Huh. Looks like your mouth really isn’t growing on them. He’s not surprised.

“Who says you have to stop there?” Finnick asks, it’s a genuine question.

You don’t see it that way, “For fuck’s sake, just leave me alone.”

He does leave you alone, and instead starts a conversation with Mags. Even if it is relatively one-sided, she seems to be engrossed in it all the same. Before he knows it, the room has filled with all the tributes, and Gloss is being called in for his individual assessment. 

After Gloss comes Cashmere, and after Cashmere comes Brutus. Brutus and you share an exchange of words, and it really just leaves you there. After you go in, there’s two tributes before he goes in It makes him a little sick to his stomach to know that it’s so close. He’s not normally such a nervous guy, but these games have got him all sorts of tangled up in anxiety.

Finnick looks over to see that he’s not the only one. You’re also looking a tad pale, yourself. The leg bouncing gives it all away, “Is The (Y/n) Rosecelli nervous?” Finnick’s amused, it’s nice to know that you’re not all high and mighty as you like to make everyone think.

“I’m not.” you say in a relatively innocent tone.

“You’re bouncing your leg like you’re trying to get it to fall off.” Finnick points out.

Your leg stops then, and you take a deep breath, leaning into your hands as you rub your face, “I’m not nervous, someone else is.”

“Someone else?” Finnick asks, he’s confused.

You look over your shoulder at him, “As much as playing stupid looks on you, don’t start now.”

Finnick is quiet, and then he sputters out a laugh, “You have a soulmate?” 

“Everyone does. Mine just happens to be emotional, which is a total drag.” you hiss, Finnick’s eyebrows draw in together, “I don’t need to be feeling like this right now.”

“I heard taking deep breaths are a fantastic way to calm yourself down.” He suggests, it’s once again, genuine. But you must not see it that way again, because you ignore him.

You sit up taller, he can’t see your face at all, but he can imagine you’ve got your eyes closed. While you’re doing this, his own stomach churning comes to a slow, and even a stop. The stomach ache that was brewing is now replaced with something much more powerful; confidence.

You take in a deep breath, probably open your eyes, cross your legs, and you continue to sit tall.

The confidence has something underlying beneath it, maybe his own queasiness, because he’s got a disgusting thought that’s running wild in his mind, and it hasn’t died just yet, “Wow--”

“Zip it.” You snap.

Right after, “District Two, (Y/n) Rosecelli. Report for individual assessment.” the voice over the intercom says.

You stand from where you sat, tossing the jacket over your arm and waiting patiently for Brutus to come out. The two of you exchange words again, and then you’re going inside. Leaving him once again.

But this time it’s much more dangerous, because he’s got this fear that’s only blossoming the more he sits here, staring at the door. It’s just a coincidence. It has to be a coincidence, right?

However, it’s all lined up so far. The tribute parade, with how the interaction went. How he felt so fine just before he went up to you--no, not fine. He felt irritated, it’s why he was digging his nail into his finger, to try and cease it. And it wasn’t until the parade was over, did he feel back to normal.

Then the tribute center, during those three days. The first day when you went from your normal, mean self to pissy in half a second after he called you cute, and how he felt that in his chest. Then later that day, when Katniss was shooting arrows and everyone had gathered to watch, he felt something else. Something much scarier than everything else he felt so far--jealousy. It was pure envy.

And it continued throughout those other two days. Whenever you were angry, there was something boiling inside of him too. Finally, today. Today just now before you had gone inside. You went from being ‘nervous’ to being confident, and he felt the change too. 

He’s been trying to tell himself that it’s all coincidence, but it has to be a hell of a coincidence in that case. There’s something inside of him telling him that it’s not, and he’s finally found the one. But there really is no way to tell until the words are said.

He pulls up the left sleeve, staring down at the words, “I should kill you right here.”

--

Finnick leans against the wall, hands in his pants pockets. He watches as his fellow competitors all come out of their rooms, one by one, wearing their outfits. Some are gorgeous, others are plain ugly and he finds himself lucky that he has such a laid-back stylist. What he’s wearing is comfortable, what they’re wearing is the opposite.

Cashmere and Gloss group up with Brutus pretty early on. The siblings have gone on some silver sequin outfits that are definitely going to catch every single light that lands on them. Right now they look ridiculous, but not nearly as ridiculous as Brutus--who looks like he belongs in a roman coliseum.

Ten more minutes pass, and another door is open. Finnick raises his head from where he’s staring at his black boots. And his eyes land right on you, wearing a dress that blows everyone else out of the water. Not even Katniss will be able to compare, he thinks.

You head straight for your ‘friends’ first, talking to them for a moment. Then, you turn your head in his direction, quite possibly by accident. Either way, Finnick takes his left hand out of his pocket, beckoning you towards him with his index finger. After that, he takes a step back, and then another, and disappears around the corner.

He stops pretty far into the empty hallway, mostly because he doesn’t want anyone who’s walking through the hall to hear the conversation that’s about to happen between the two of you. 

Finnick crosses his arms, smiling at the corner. There’s a hundred things that he wants to say, and he’s going to say most of them. Because he’s so entirely amused that you went from not wanting an alliance to wanting one.

But as usual, he can take a solid guess as to why you’d want an alliance now. And it starts with Katniss and Peeta both receiving twelves on their training scores. You would have been a fool not to request him as an ally then. Unfortunately, he’s a lot smarter than you give him credit for, so his answer is going to be no.

You make a wide turn around the corner, in your hands are fistfuls of the dress that you’re wearing, likely so you won’t step on the fabric. When you’re close enough, he begins talking, “What happened to being too good for an alliance with me?”

“I came to my senses,” you flash him a very white smile, “I realized that it might be good to have you around, after all.”

“It has nothing to do with the fact that Katniss and Peeta got twelve’s?” Finnick tilts his head.

You both know he’s got you caught, “Partially. Forget hanging around with Cashmere, Gloss and Brutus. I want a place in whatever you have.”

“Fat chance.” he says, and he watches your smile fade.

“Why not?” your eyebrows are drawn together.

Finnick resists the urge to roll his eyes. The statement you made yesterday about ‘playing stupid’ comes to mind, and he also resists the urge to say that to you, “You know why. I don’t want you killing my allies.”

“Want them all to yourself?” He watches your right eyebrow raise, “Tell me Finnick, are you going to be able to protect them when they rush towards the cornucopia tomorrow?”

Finnick opens his mouth for a moment like he has nothing to say, “They can take care of themselves.”

“Let’s see, you’ll be taking care of Mags, and Katniss will be taking care of Peeta because he’s nothing but a sack of flour–how ironic. If you have me there, I can basically be a bodyguard.”

“Until you kill one of us in our sleep, right?” Finnick scans your face the same way you were scanning his just days ago, “You’re mistaking me for something that I’m not.”

“Everyone is going to kill each other one way or another.” you say, “I won’t have to do it early on, that’s the whole point of alliances. I keep you guys around until we start to turn on each other.”

“What if we don’t have those intentions?” Finnick asks, he’s hinting at the plan. You’re observant, you have to know that there’s more. If you can read into an alliance, you can read into something that would be seen as innocent in anyone else’s eyes.

It worked. You open your mouth, close it. And then you try again with speaking; “What are you planning?”

This is really the only chance he’s gotten in the last couple of days. He’s been wanting a moment like this, despite the fact that it might blow the cover entirely--but that’s happened once already. And if he doesn’t give you an answer, then you’ll just find one of your own, “Tell me, (Y/n), are you a loyalist?”

He watches you go stiff, staring and waiting for an answer. He can feel some feeling that he’s never felt before, stirring in his stomach. He can’t place his finger on it. 

Suddenly, you’re closing your mouth, eyes blank and distant. Slowly, you begin to press your lips together. To him, it looks like you’re not entirely in your own body, rather you’re just a passenger.

You’re dead for another moment, until you take your time with coming back to life, “You are bold.” your stare is still very blank, and you don’t answer his question either, “And careless for asking me a question like that outright.”

Finnick’s face twists now, “Are you, though?” he’s hoping that he didn’t just blow this.

You’re still silent.

“Yes or no.” Finnick urges.

“I’m not going to answer that question.” you say, you’re back now, “Because I don’t know what you’re up to, and I don’t want to. Forget the alliance thing, I change my mind.”

Finnick watches you turn to walk away, and he catches your arm before you go. Maybe you’re not answering because you’re scared that this is a plan to get you in trouble, “I could tell you.” he offers.

“Why would you want to?” you squint.

Finnick lets go of your arm, “Because having you on our side could be useful.”

“Useful for what?” you’re quiet now, “Getting everyone else in District Two to follow behind all the other rioting districts?”

It’s Finnick’s turn to freeze and stare. It looks like he was right about the observant thing, except your whole mind must have run with that idea in the minutes you thought about it. Letting it sizzle, and then turning it over to get a whole new perspective.

His eyes widen, and he swallows.

“We have nothing to complain about, Finnick. We’ve got the good life.”

“And everyone else? What about the people who don’t have the good life? The ones that fight to live everyday? What about them?” he asks, you’ve got to have some compassion.

You nod slowly, thinking, “Well, I’m not a loyalist and I’m not too fond of being considered a traitor either.”

He’s gotten through to you somewhat. You’re right there.

“You’re after the glory of being a legend, right?” Finnick asks, he watches as you take a step back. Clearly you weren’t expecting him to realize what you were after, either, “This is better than that. People will know that you were the first person from District Two to hop on and lead. You want people to look up to you, here it is.”

Someone appears at the corner that the two of you had passed. Finnick looks over, and soon you are too. Haymitch is standing there, “Interviews have started.” his eyebrows are together. Haymitch is going to ask a lot of questions later about this interaction. 

“Thanks.” Finnick says, Haymitch goes back to where he came from, “Don’t make the decision now, but if you do want to join us, come and find me inside of the arena.”

You look at him, “You’re going to run to the cornucopia, I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not. Which is why I think you’ll make the right decision.” Finnick tells you.

You scoff, “Right decision? You know what you’re asking, right?” and then you laugh, shaking your head as you pull up your dress so you can walk away, “How do I know if any of this is even true?” he doesn’t say anything, “Exactly, this could be some sort of sick ruse just to draw me in to kill me and get me out of the way. I didn’t come here to be killed, I came here to win. And you’re going to have to fight me for it.”

You shake your head a final time, before you’re turning and leaving.

Finnick looks up at the ceiling, trying to get his heart to stop beating so much. That was such a risk to take, and he’s not even sure if it was worth it to do. Just getting the thought in your mind was…

He shakes his own head.

It was worth it. At least now you’ll be thinking about it. Maybe even make you hesitate inside the arena.

--

The arena is hot. Finnick’s been above the pedestal for only a couple of seconds now, and he can feel himself begin to sweat. Not only is the sun beating down on his shoulders, but the arena is so damn humid too. The combination of the two things is a very clear indicator that he’s going to be dehydrated soon, so the first thing he needs to do is find water.

The whole landscape seems to be in layers. In the middle is the cornucopia, which is stationed atop black rock, with twelve even spokes that go out from it. The second layer is water, which is where the tributes lie. Two tributes to each pie slice, to Finnick’s right is the lady from nine. She’s not part of the alliance.

Beyond the water, is the beach--which the spokes touch. It’s a thin beach, and beyond it is a very healthy, green and thick jungle that looks like absolute terror to deal with. 

Finnick prepares himself to angle to the left, for his black rock spoke. On the other side, the other tribute seems to have the same idea. Or rather, they don’t have much of a choice. Either way, Finnick isn’t worried because he knows that he’s going to make it there first.

The gong sounds, and Finnick launches himself into the water, diving right in. Arm over head, legs kicking hard, he finds himself being comfortable. Water is easy to deal with, it’s how he won his games. He’ll be lucky if he can win the same way.

He reaches the black rock easily, placing his two hands on it. Without trouble, he hoists himself up, noticing that the other tribute hasn’t even gotten close yet. Smugly, Finnick whips his hair out of his eyes before making a bolt for the cornucopia. The trident that the gamemakers have put out, glints in the bright sun.

Finnick makes it to the box, thinking he’s made it there first. He grabs a hold of his trident, and he’s prepared to turn and take a look around, until he hears a certain plucking sound. He takes a step forward, trying to see into the cornucopia room, since that’s where the sound is coming from.

And you turn, face hard with an arrow pulled and pointed straight at his chest.

Finnick’s face twists, “You can’t actually–”

Just to prove him wrong, you let the arrow whizz right over his shoulder. He can feel the air shift--swears that you had even clipped him. Then, you speak, “I should kill you right here.”

Finnick’s mouth falls open involuntarily. It’s the words. You’ve said the words.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

You seem to realize too, and then Finnick and you stare at each other, not knowing what to say.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair metanoia #metanoia #metanoia prevaricate

[morningfears]

Rose Tattoo [Chapter Two]

Rating: PG

Summary: Calum moved to New York after high school to gain experience as a tattoo artist. It was his hope to return home and open a shop in Sydney. However, life has a way of interrupting even the best thought out plans and Calum found himself still in New York at age 25 with a son and a job as an artist at a shop owned by one of his best friends. His heart had been broken and he told himself - and his friends - time and time again that the last thing he needed to worry about was finding a girlfriend. However, despite the turmoil in his life, he finds himself drawn to the girl with rose tattoo. | Inspired by this blurb. | This is Stevie’s face claim!

Word Count: 6.7k

SERIES MASTERLIST | CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE

Stevie stared at her laptop, the blinking cursor and blank word document seeming to mock her as she waited for the words swirling around her brain to magically appear on the screen. She knew what she wanted to write - the interview she’d done the day before seemed to lend itself to a certain kind of article and was neatly outlined in her mind - but it was as if her brain couldn’t connect with her fingers. She felt as if she were incapable of moving, that if she tried too hard to type, her head would explode, and it was beginning to make her heart pound and her head ache. She’d been stuck for nearly an hour, her eyes sore as she stared at the bright screen, and finally huffed a frustrated breath as she reached out and closed her laptop.

She wondered, idly, as she glanced around the small coffee shop if it was the noise distracting her or maybe the overcast sky affect her mood but, if she were being honest with herself, she would be forced to acknowledge that it was neither of those things. It was a myriad of feelings outside of her control, a series of chemical imbalances in her brain and life events that blindsided her, and she hated feeling like she was barely treading water when she was once a proficient swimmer. 

It had been a rough few months adjusting to the seemingly never-ending changes that rushed into her life like tornadoes, spinning out of control and leaving her sanity in shambles, and she was struggling to cope with it all. She had always had a safety net, a group of friends and family close by and ready to catch her should she ever fall, so being on her own and on the verge of spiraling in a city over a thousand miles from home only added to the feeling of helplessness she’d been saddled with since Angela’s diagnosis.

It was hard, watching her best friend go from the brightest light in a room to being snuffed out in a matter of months, and she knew that she wasn’t handling it well. But that was no surprise. Stevie had never handled death well. Dealing with mortality, acknowledging that death was inevitable and a force of nature that could not be ignored, was hard for her. Her worst fear had always been losing the ones she loved and having that fear become reality had shaken her to the core.

She wanted, desperately, to feel happy that she was sitting in a cafe in Manhattan, drinking tea and writing for a magazine she’d read all her life. She wanted to enjoy the cold, the real winter that she never got back home in Louisiana, and play in the snow. She wanted to celebrate her success, a job and a life that she only ever dreamed she’d have, and be grateful that she was getting such an experience.

But it all felt hollow. Empty. Wrong.

Any victory celebrated felt like a slap in the face to the best friend she’d lost, to the family she’d left behind, and to the life she’d given up in order to achieve it. She felt guilty for surviving, for thriving, while everyone around her seemed to be crumbling. She knew that it was just something akin to survivor’s guilt and that it would leave her eventually but she could feel herself slipping back into a headspace she hadn’t been since she was a teenager and, for the first time in years, didn’t feel like fighting it. She wanted to wallow in her misery, to grieve and fall apart in peace, but that seemed counterproductive.

Instead of taking time to process her emotions, instead of talking about them or working through them, Stevie shoved them to the back of her mind. She let them fester, locked away in some dark recess that would likely break her some day, as she had always done and put on a happy face as a coworker - the one who’d recommended Calum to her - took the seat across from her.

“How’s the writing coming?” Noah asked as he placed his own coffee onto the table along with his laptop and notebook. “They’ve got you doing a feature, yeah?”

“Mm,” Stevie confirmed with a hum as she reached for her tea. “The interview went well. The band was good, they gave me a lot of good quotes to work with and a good idea for how I want the article to work. I just need to get it from my brain onto the page,” she sighed as she tapped her nails against the hardwood of the table. “My brain is stuck today.”

Noah made a noise of sympathy as he tapped at the keys on his laptop for a moment before he peered over the screen to glance at her. “You should take the rest of the day,” he suggested as he glanced at the time. “The deadline for that is, what, Monday?” When Stevie nodded, Noah followed suit and took a sip of his coffee before he continued. “You’ve done more this week than pretty much anyone else. Give your brain a break. You’ve got your second appointment with Cal today, right?”

At the mention of her impending appointment with Calum, Stevie felt herself perk slightly. She was still nervous about her tattoo, the idea of spending another few hours with a needle repeatedly being stabbed into her skin would likely never truly appeal to her, but she was eager to finish the tattoo and see the final piece. The base that Calum had done had healed and though there were still details and color to be added, she was thrilled with how it looked so far. It felt as if it belonged on her skin, like it had always been a part of her body, and she was glad that she’d taken a step out of her comfort zone and gotten it done. Completing it would also mean a check on the bucket list and the ability to move on to the next task.

Also, somewhere in the back of her mind, Stevie was looking forward to seeing Calum again. He was sweet, a gentle soul and easy to talk to, and she was looking forward to chatting with him again. He had made the appointment fly by and she hoped that the same would be true this time.

“Yeah,” she nodded, finally answering Noah’s question as she glanced over at him. “Thanks for the recommendation. He was really good. He still has some details to add and the color but the tattoo’s beautiful so far. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Good,” Noah nodded with a smile as he gestured to her arm, “can I see? I’ve got an appointment with him next week. I want to add to my leg.” When Stevie shrugged her jacket off her shoulder and rolled up the sleeve of her shirt enough for Noah to see the bold black ink against her skin, his eyes widened and he nodded in appreciation. “That’s bigger than I thought you’d go for a first tattoo but, you’re right. It’s beautiful. He did a great job.”

Stevie hummed her agreement as she reached for her phone to text her boss and ask for the rest of the afternoon off. “He really did. I’m excited to get it finished. He was just really good all around. I was freaking out before, like, almost having a panic attack outside the shop but he was really good about it. And he was really easy to talk to. It was a good experience.”

“He’s a really nice guy,” Noah agreed as he tapped at his keyboard. “I’ve been trying to get an interview with him for ages, though. Ashton agreed but only on the condition we feature them both and Cal is great at dodging my requests. Think you could put in a good word for me today?” Noah requested as he glanced over at Stevie with a grin.

“Yeah, I’ll see if I can remember to hound the poor guy about getting back to you while he’s jamming a needle into my skin,” Stevie nodded as she felt her phone vibrate in her hand. It was confirmation from her boss that she had the rest of the afternoon free and, with a sigh of relief, she grabbed her laptop and shoved it into her bag. “I’m going to go walk my dog before I go in. I’ll see you on Monday, Noah.”

“See you, kid,” he called, taking great pride in the nickname though he was only two years older than her. “Try to get me that interview!”

Without glancing over her shoulder, Stevie flashed her middle finger in Noah's direction - something she knew he wouldn't take offense to - and left the coffee shop to head back to her apartment.

*****

As Stevie crossed town, eager to get back to her apartment and take her dog for a walk before she had to sit still for a few hours, Calum sat on his couch and stared at the cellphone in his hands. He was exhausted, more so than he had been in years, and felt overwhelmed as he realized that his plans for the day had fallen through. He could hear Tāne’s coughing, the same sound that had plagued him for days, and he felt his heart constrict in his chest as he stood to find the cough medicine.

Calum had always considered himself lucky. By all accounts, Tāne had always been a good child. He had never been very fussy. He went to bed on time, was easy to put down, and was a sweet, affectionate, pleasant child. He was easy - as easy as a child could be, anyway - and Calum was grateful. Not much changed when he was sick - Tāne was still a sweet, pleasant child - but he didn’t sleep as much, too sick to get comfortable without the aid of some sort of medication, and Calum’s heart hurt for his son. He was slightly irritable, a little more emotional than usual, and didn’t want to be far from his father as he battled 

Tāne was on the upswing after a rather serious bout of flu and Calum was relieved that the worst of it seemed to be over. He wasn’t quite back to his usual self, not yet, but he didn’t look as miserable as he had and he no longer felt as warm as he had the night Calum had taken him to the emergency room. He was well enough for Calum to be able to report to the shop for the first time in nearly a week - Calum was already dreading the few makeup appointments he would have to reschedule, though he was thankful for Ashton stepping in and taking a few of them to lighten the load - but the babysitter that Calum always used, and trusted to handle Tāne in such a state, was on her way to take an exam and no one else seemed to be able to fill in on such short notice.

He only had one client, Stevie, and he knew that if their initial meeting was anything to go by, she wouldn’t be one to have a meltdown if he had to cancel. However, Calum was itching to get back into the shop - this was the longest he’d been out since Tāne was born - and didn’t want to make Stevie wait any longer for her finished tattoo. He remembered her story vividly, the pain in her eyes and the tremor in her voice as she recalled the loss of her friend, and wanted to help her close that chapter. He knew that it would be at least another three weeks before he could fit her in again and he didn’t want her to have to wait.

As soon as Calum gathered Tāne in his arms and carried him to the living room, his son was clinging to his neck and fighting sleep. Even if Calum was able to find a sitter, he knew that he wouldn’t want to be far from his father when he felt so bad and, honestly, Calum wasn’t fond of that idea, either. So, though he knew Ashton would agree to let Tāne rest in the back room as Calum tattooed Stevie, he grabbed his phone and called to check, just in case.

The moment Ashton was on the other line, Calum could hear the hum of noise from the shop. He knew that things would thin out by the time he and Tāne arrived, there wasn’t a lot on the books for that afternoon, and that the others would gladly help him keep an eye on his son. As he asked, Ashton assured him of as much.

“Of course you should bring him,” he huffed, almost offended that Calum would even bother to ask. “There are still some of his snacks in the back if he gets hungry and Luke should be done by the time you get here. I’m sure he won’t mind sticking around and helping keep an eye on him.”

Calum could hear Luke ask, “Is he bringing Tāne?” in the background and confirmed that he was, indeed, to Ashton. “He’s better but he still doesn’t feel great. I don’t want to be too far from him. You sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m hanging up on you for even asking,” Ashton huffed and Calum smiled at the sentiment despite the slight anxiety he still felt. He knew just how much Ashton, Luke, and Michael loved his son - almost as much as he did - and he knew that Tāne would never be an imposition. Before he could speak, Ashton said, “Bring him a blanket, it’s kind of cold in here today. See you in a few,” and ended the call. 

Calum laughed, his heart easing just a bit, and dropped his phone onto the couch to free his hands. He rubbed Tāne’s back, his fingers gentle against the material of his t-shirt as he listened to his son’s slightly raspy breathing. “You want to go see Uncle Ash?” he asked, his voice quiet as he shifted just enough to see Tāne’s face. “And Uncle Luke?”

Despite not feeling his best, Tāne was never one to pass up an opportunity to see his uncles. He still looked a little worse for the wear with dark circles beneath his eyes and red cheeks, clearly displaying his warm temperature, but he brightened at the prospect of seeing the boys. He didn’t respond verbally, just a small smile and a nod, but that was all the agreement that Calum needed as he returned the gesture.

“Alright,” he hummed before he brushed a stray curl from Tāne’s forehead. “Let’s get dressed and we’ll head to the shop, bub.”

Forty-five minutes later, Calum strolled into the shop with Tāne in his arms and a backpack full of his son’s favorite items - a pale green blanket, a plush penguin (given to him by Uncle Luke), and a copy of Toy Story, ready to be watched on Calum’s laptop - on his back. Calum knew that Tāne would need at least a little bit of distraction, something to occupy his mind and soothe him back to sleep, as he worked and hoped that the things he’d brought were good enough. Almost immediately, Tāne was scooped out of his arms by Ashton with Luke not far behind.

“Get set up for Stevie,” Ashton told him, a small grin at the mention of Stevie (despite Calum’s attempt to redirect him, Ashton still hadn’t given up his attempt to play matchmaker). “Luke and I’ve got our favorite little dude,” he assured him before he turned his full attention to the small boy in his arms. As Ashton took Tāne toward the back, Luke grabbed the bag from Calum’s hands and grinned at him, offering a quick thumbs up, before he followed along.

Calum stood for a moment, gathering himself and savoring the brief respite, before he breathed a deep sigh and set about getting ready for his appointment. He felt a slight bit of his worry ease as he ran through his mental checklist - ink, gloves, paper towels, machine, A&D - and began preparing his station. Having Ashton and Luke, two of the people he trusted more than anyone else, watching Tāne was a welcome relief. It was normal, something that happened more often than not, and gave him a moment to breathe as he listened to Tāne giggle at a story Ashton was telling him.

He hadn’t always been a worrier. He worried whenever Tāne got sick or hurt, just like any parent would, but he’d been the calm one. He never let the worry shake him as he hoped for the best and kept his head on straight. He kissed scrapes and dried eyes and encouraged him to get back up (although he never pushed; sometimes a child just needed to be held and cuddled and Calum was more than willing to provide that). But the impending custody battle had him rattled. He didn’t want to lose his son - not when Tāne meant the world to him - and he felt himself growing anxious over every little wrong move he could possibly make. He worried that he would do something wrong and that he would never see his son again and it hurt more than he cared to admit.

As he imagined losing Tāne, Calum felt his throat tighten and his hands shake. He never imagined his split with El would end in this way, with them bitter and angry at one another, but it did and it hurt that she was only just trying to step into Tāne’s life. Calum didn’t know what her motives were but, knowing her, it was purely out of spite and the last thing he wanted was for his son to grow up in a house where he wasn’t wanted.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay. Sierra and I are - are you okay?”

Calum looked up as Luke returned to the main area of the shop and frowned at the look of concern on his face. He loved his friends and appreciated the concern that they held for him but hated feeling so fragile. He was always the strong one, the one that picked up the pieces for them, and found it difficult to be in the reverse position. He wanted to assure them that he was alright, that he could handle what was being thrown at him, but that was hard to do when he wasn’t sure he could.

Regardless, he nodded at Luke’s question and returned his attention to his workstation. “Yeah,” he nodded, glancing over his shoulder to throw Luke a smile. “Have fun with Sierra. Don’t worry about us. Tāne’s feeling better than he has been and Stevie, the client I have coming in, seems pretty understanding. I feel like she won’t mind if I have to get up and check in on him.”

“You sure?” Luke asked, his frown deepening as he leaned against the counter and watched Calum wipe down his station with disinfectant. “I can stick around for a little while longer. Sierra won’t mind.”

“He’s sure,” Ashton assured Luke as he walked out of the back, wiping his wet hands on a paper towel. “I’m staying. I’ve got to get some drawing done but it’s easier for me to get up and walk to the back than it will be for you,” he rationalized, stopping Calum’s protests before he could start. “You needed to get out of the house, to do something other than be a dad for a few minutes, and I get it. I was just going to draw at home, anyway. I really don’t mind sticking around. Luke, leave. You’ve been a lot of help this week. I’ll see you on Monday,” Ashton said, glancing at Luke as he nodded toward the door.

Luke hesitated for a moment, his phone in his hand and ready to text his girlfriend about their potential changed plans, but Ashton’s look and Calum’s urging convinced him to leave. “If you need me,” he began as he reached for his jacket and began shrugging it on, “just give me a call. I can come back.”

“I appreciate it, Luke,” Calum acknowledged, and he really did. He appreciated everything his friends did for him, the love they had for Tāne, and didn’t know where he would be without them. He watched as Luke waved in their direction and headed for the door with one final glance over his shoulder before he left for the night.

On his way out, Luke held the door open for who he assumed - correctly - was Stevie and gave her a smile before he headed to meet Sierra.

Ashton spotted Stevie first, his grin widening at the sight of the green-haired girl, and he stood to welcome her. “You actually came back,” he teased, his eyes bright as he gestured for her to make her way to the tattoo area. “Calum didn’t scare you off?”

“Mm, not yet,” she confirmed, her own tone playful as she glanced at Calum. “But I can’t promise I’ll be getting anymore tattoos after this one. I don’t know if I’m fully sold on the repetition of tattoos yet.”

“You can hold a conversation right now,” Calum pointed out, a small smile on his lips as he glanced up from where he was setting up the chair for her, “I feel like you might be getting a taste for it.”

Calum watched Stevie for a moment. She looked calmer than she had been the first time, her hands not shaking and her breathing steady, but she still had a hint of nerves present on her face. He could see the stiffness in her shoulders and the way she twisted the rings on her fingers but, as he’d pointed out, she could hold a conversation and had a genuine smile on her lips as she greeted them both. She might not be sold yet but Calum could sense that she was nowhere near as petrified as she had been just two weeks ago.

“I’m finishing up,” Calum informed her as he glanced at the small metal tray filled with items. “I’ll be ready to start in just a few minutes.” He hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether he should tell her what was happening with Tāne upfront or just hope that she wouldn’t mind a few extra breaks. After a moment’s consideration, he decided on the former and added, “I just want to let you know that my son’s here. He hasn’t been feeling to great so he’s in the back. We might take a few more breaks than we did last time, just so I can go check in on him, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Stevie assured him, no hesitation whatsoever as she nodded earnestly. “I can reschedule if you need me to,” she offered, her head titled as she watched him fill a cup with ink. “I’d love to get it finished but I can wait until the timing is better for you,” she said and Calum lifted his head to meet her gaze.

She looked so sincere, so earnest, and it made him happy to know that he’d read her correctly. He was glad that she was as sweet as she’d seemed and that she was his client for the evening, not someone who wouldn’t understand. “No, tonight’s fine,” Calum assured her with a nod. “He’s getting better, he feels better than he has all week, but I still want to keep an eye on him. If we reschedule, it’ll be a few weeks, at the earliest. I’ve had to push back everything for the next week.”

“I really don’t mind. Take care of your family first. I can wait, I promise.”

Ashton watched the pair of them interact, a smile on his lips, and Calum wanted to throw a roll of paper towels at him. This would only fuel his delusion that they would be the perfect pair and Calum really didn’t want to endure another week of teasing from his friends. However, he couldn’t deny the relief and slight admiration he felt for her as she encouraged him to delay something that meant so much to her so that he could take care of his son.

Before he could answer, however, Ashton interjected, “I’m sticking around to help keep an eye on him so it’ll be fine. He’s just going to sleep in the back. Cal’s been itching to tattoo all week. Have a seat, Stevie. Take advantage of that desire and my willingness to devote my time to my favorite kid.”

At that, Stevie glanced at Calum and he nodded his agreement, nodded herself before she shrugged off her jacket and pulled the t-shirt she wore up and over her head. She avoided hitting her elbow this time, narrowly, and grinned in triumph as she placed her things onto the table. “It hurt to bend my arm for, like, three days after hitting my elbow,” she told Calum as she took a seat in the chair and settled in.

“You always that clumsy or was it just the nerves?” he asked as he pulled off his gloves and stood from his seat.

“…I don’t want to talk about it,” Stevie mumbled, her pink cheeks telling him that it was a mixture of both.

Calum grinned, finding the action endearing, and shook his head as he glanced down the hall. “I’m going to go check on Tāne and then we’ll get started.”

In the backroom, Tāne was sound asleep as Toy Story played in the background. Calum was relieved to see him look so peaceful, to get a moment’s rest, and hoped that he would stay like that long enough for him to finish Stevie’s tattoo.

For the first hour and a half, the tattoo went smoothly. Stevie was still somewhat reserved, as if there was something lurking under the surface of her smile, and Calum wanted to question it but thought better of it as he worked. She was pleasant, almost talkative, and he found that he enjoyed her company even more this time than he had the first. As he tattooed her, Calum and Stevie talked, much as they had the first time, about music. He told her about some of the bands he’d loved back home, some of the ones that were well known in Australia but weren’t talked about as much in the States, and was surprised to see her face light up at the mention of Violent Soho.

“I saw them a few years ago,” she told him, a smile on her lips despite the pain she felt as he shaded her tattoo, “it was a badass show. My dad had to go to Sydney for work and my sister and I were out for Christmas so he took us and mom and made it a family trip. We went to Big Day Out and it was one of the best days of my life.”

“Yeah?” Calum asked, a smile on his face as he watched her grin. “How did you like Sydney?”

“It was amazing,” she gushed, grinning as she tried not to use her hands - something Calum noticed was hard for her when she got excited. “I loved it. Except it was hot as fuck in January and even though I’m from Louisiana, it was weird seeing everyone in bathing suits and flip flops so close to New Year’s. But I got to see a ton of cool bands. Australia’s music scene is seriously underrated.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he laughed as dabbed at the ink on her skin. When she gave him a quizzical look, he raised an eyebrow. “You write for a music magazine,” he elaborated, “I expect you to have better taste than most.”

“Don’t judge us all by that standard,” she warned with a laugh as she watched him continue to shade the red in the roses. “Some of the people I work with have the shittiest taste in music. Like, I understand that it’s a personal thing but if you listen to your music out loud in a public space, you are giving me permission to critique you and anyone who listens to Florida Georgia Line for personal enjoyment needs to rethink their choices.”

“…. I don’t even know who that is but I think I’m happy about that?” Calum mumbled, laughing at the look on Stevie’s face. He didn’t know her very well, he barely knew her at all, but he already trusted her taste in music and anything she deemed unworthy of his time, he felt compelled to agree.

Before Stevie could respond, before she could tell him exactly what kind of band they were and why he should be wary of modern country, a small voice interrupted them. 

“Daddy, I got sick,” a child Stevie recognized as Tāne - based on the curly hair and chubby cheeks - mumbled, his eyes watery and his lip quivering as he stood at the edge of the room, blinking at the harsh florescent lights.

Calum, who had been about to continue shading, didn’t hesitate to place his machine on the small tray and pull off his gloves. “Can you wrap her up for a second?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder Ashton as he crossed the room to pick up Tāne. “I’ll be right back,” he called, this time glancing at Stevie, before he headed down the hall to help Tāne brush his teeth and change into a shirt that wasn’t soaked with sweat. 

It only took about five minutes to clean up and get Tāne comfortable, the normal length of a quick break, but he refused to be out of Calum’s line of sight after he’d gotten changed. He was fully awake, crankier than he had been, and wanted nothing more than to sit in the chair at his dad’s side and watch as he finished up Stevie’s tattoo. On a normal day, Calum wouldn’t hesitate to ask. Tāne loved watching his dad work and was always good whenever he sat in. However, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable as he knew that not everyone was fond of children and, even if they were, he didn’t want her to be afraid that she’d get sick. To his surprise, though, she overheard Tāne’s tearful request and ambled over to where Calum stood.

“Calum, please feel free to do whatever you need to to make sure he’s okay,” she told him, directing her words toward him before she glanced at Tāne and offered him a small smile. “I don’t mind, I promise.”

Calum knew that he needed to finish up her tattoo as soon as he could in order to get Tāne back home so he didn’t argue. With a nod, he gestured for her to head back to his station and followed suit. Ashton, who had been ready to jump in whenever he was needed, pulled a chair closer to Calum’s station and had Tāne’s blanket ready for him whenever Calum sat him down. The small boy hid his face half beneath the blanket and watched Stevie curiously as Calum removed the wrap from her arm and settled back into his position.

“I like your hair,” Tāne said after a beat of silence, his eyes glued to the green strands framing Stevie’s face. “Green’s my favorite color.”

“Really?” Stevie asked, a smile on her face as she turned her head to glance at Tāne. “It’s mine, too. Is that why your blanket’s green?” When Tāne nodded, his fingers brushing the soft blanket, Stevie smiled. “I had a blanket like that when I was little but mine was purple.”

“Why not green?” Calum asked, interjecting with a small smile as he watched the exchange between Stevie and Tāne. His son, while sweet and pleasant, was not known for his interactions with strangers and he was mildly pleased to watch him so fascinated by another person.

“My mom wouldn’t let me have a green one. She said green wasn’t a good favorite color for little girls,” Stevie explained with a shrug, “but she also gave me a name that sounds like it should be for a boy so… Logic wasn’t her strong suit.”

“Green should be everyone’s favorite color,” Tāne pointed out, his voice muffled by the fabric of his blanket. He paused for a moment, considering what else she’d said, before he asked, “What’s your name?”

“It’s Stevie. What’s your’s?” Calum was happy that she’d asked, even though he knew that she knew, and continued working on her tattoo as he listened to the exchange.

Tāne told her his name before he paused, frowning at her answer, and said, “Stevie is a boy’s name.”

“It can be,” Stevie nodded as she struggled not to shrug. “But I was named after a girl. Has your dad ever played you any Fleetwood Mac?”

When Stevie asked, Tāne turned to glance at Calum. Calum knew that Tāne wouldn’t know the band off the top of his head - the only music he knew without fail was that of Queen - but he had indeed played Fleetwood Mac for him. Tāne had fallen in love with Landslide the first time he’d heard it and Calum sang a few lines, quietly, to jog his memory.

Stevie stared at Calum for a moment, the surprise at his voice clear on her face, before she winced as he hit a particularly tender spot on her arm. “Is she the one that sings that?” Tāne asked curiously, watching Stevie’s face as she frowned at the feeling. “I like that song.”

“She is, yeah. Her name is Stevie Nicks. My mom really liked her music so she named me after her. And I like being named after her. She was a really cool role model to have growing up,” Stevie explained with a slight nod as she smiled at Tāne.

Stevie and Tāne continued talking for the majority of her session. Much of their conversation was about Scooby Doo and The Avengers, two things that Tāne loved more than almost anything else, and Calum was blown away as he listened to them interact. Most people treated Tāne like the child he was, talking down to him and waiting for him to catch up, but Stevie didn’t. She was patient, helpful if she said something he didn’t understand, but she didn’t talk to him like he was a baby. She carried on a conversation like she would have with Calum and he really appreciated it. It was something he tried to do himself, something he encouraged the others to do, and found it endearing that she tried so hard to connect with him as Calum finished up her tattoo.

He was grateful for her presence, glad that she was the client he’d been tattooing, as she successfully distracted Tāne from the discomfort he’d been feeling. Calum didn’t know if it was a conscious decision on her part or if she was just good with children but, whatever the case, he’d never seen Tāne take so readily to a stranger. He almost hated that this was the last time they were guaranteed to interact and, though he hated to admit it, he was stating to understand where Ashton was coming from. 

However, he didn’t dwell on the thought as he wrapped Stevie’s arm and turned to Tāne. “Can you stay with Uncle Ash for a second while I finish up with Stevie?” When Tāne nodded, a pout on his lips as he bid Stevie goodbye and allowed Ashton to pick him up, Calum gestured for Stevie to follow him to the counter. “Thank you,” he said, glancing at her as he wrote up her receipt.

“What for?” She looked genuinely confused, unsure of what she’d done to garner thanks, and shook his head as he slid the paper across the counter.

“People can be assholes. Thank you for not being one,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulder as he watched her sign the bottom. “And thank you for talking with Tāne. He liked you. He’s never that talkative with people he doesn’t know.”

At that, Stevie grinned brightly and glanced toward the back, where Ashton sat with Tāne. “I liked him, too. He’s a really sweet kid. You and your wife or partner or whoever are doing a great job,” she complimented and when Calum frowned she grimaced. “Um, sorry. I just… assumed?”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, shaking his head as he did. “It’s just me, just us, but thank you. I appreciate it.”

The pair of them stood there for a moment, awkwardly, watching the other. Calum wanted to ask her for her number, or maybe if she’d like to have coffee with him, and he opened his mouth to do so but was interrupted by the sound of a coughing fit from the back. “I’ll let you go so you can get him home. Thank you for the tattoo, Calum. It’s beautiful. Tell Tāne I hope he feels better. And, um, I’ll see you around, maybe?”

“Yeah,” Calum said, his voice reflecting his disappointment as she turned to walk toward the door, “I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, Stevie stepped out of the shop and disappeared into the crowd of people walking down the sidewalk.

Calum stood there for a moment, staring after her, before he breathed a heavy sigh and turned off the ‘open’ sign.  He headed to the back of the shop and took Tāne from Ashton’s arms. “Come on, bub, let’s get you home,” he sighed as he headed to the small back room to begin gathering his son’s things.

Calum placed Tāne on the couch and let him sit as he cleaned up the small area. Ashton followed him and handed him the DVD and plushie as he said, “Please tell me you got her number.”

“If I did, I’d be lying,” Calum sighed as he lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. “I was about to and then Tāne started coughing and she left. It’s probably for the best. El’s gonna use everything she can against me and a new girlfriend would only give her more fuel.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Ashton huffed, his voice quiet as he tried to keep Tāne from overhearing them. “I know you’re worried but that’s no reason for you to make yourself miserable. What’s going on?”

Calum hesitated as he thought about his answer. A lot of his hesitation did stem from his desire to focus on his son. His first priority was ensuring he kept custody, tied with ensuring that his son had everything he needed. But a smaller bit of his hesitation stemmed from the fact that Calum hadn’t been on a date in three years. He hadn’t been with anyone other than El in almost five. His heart had been broken, destroyed, and he didn’t want to risk that again. He had been in a bad place the last time, depressed and alone, and he didn’t want to return to that state. He didn’t want to be vulnerable, to put his heart in anyone’s hands, and that’s what he told Ashton as he slipped on his coat.

“I don’t have feelings for El anymore but I don’t know if I’m ready. I just want to focus on being a dad. I appreciate the encouragement, I really do, but I’m okay. I promise.”

Ashton watched as Calum and Tāne left the shop, Tāne with his face nestled in the crook of Calum’s neck and Calum with a slight slump in his shoulders. Ashton knew Calum better than he knew himself. And he knew that Calum was lying about not caring if he didn’t get a chance to try something with Stevie.

Calum wanted to pursue something with Stevie, even if it was just meeting for coffee, and this was the first time in three years that he’d shown any interest whatsoever. Ashton didn’t like meddling in his life, not when he knew that Calum was so steadfast in his decisions and generally made the correct choice, however, he felt compelled to meddle and decided that if Calum wouldn’t make the first move on his own, Ashton would give him a nudge in the right direction.

________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: So, thoughts? Feelings? How are you liking it so far? I love Stevie and Calum and Tāne. It’s a little slow burn but! We’re getting to good stuff next week, I promise. I’m trying to upload at least once a week. Chapter 3 will likely be out around the 8th or so (maybe a few days before that) so keep your eyes peeled! If you want to be tagged, just let me know! :) Also! I know this is unrelated but if you sent me Luke and Lottie blurbs, I promise I’ve gotten them and will be answering them. I’m just trying not to get frustrated with MF and think too much about it. I just needed to step away for a second and Rose Tattoo has proven to be a great place for me to do that!

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[gguktarts]

decathect | jjk (1)

1. to withdraw one’s feelings of attachment from (a person, idea, or object), as in anticipation of a future loss

summary: if one thing was clear to you when you first met Jeon Jungkook, it was that he would never love you. at least, not the way you wanted him to.

pairing: jjk x reader genre: unrequited love au? || angst || little fluff if u Squint || drabble series word count: 2.7k parts:  1 / ? | next » cw: uhh kinda unhealthy depictions of a crush, & jk is a fuckboy w lots of tatts and long hair so that deserves a warning on its Own i say

note: so,,, this was supposed to be a short fic bc i wanted my heart broken but it turned into a drabble series……………….we’ll see how that goes!!! rip

You’ve heard of him from your friends, and from their friends: about the infamous Jeon Jungkook and the reputation that precedes him. He’s, first and foremost, an art major — and an excelling one at that. In the short three years he’s been an undergrad, his work has been featured, so far, in a total of 4 major art exhibitions. His displayed work apparently sells rather quickly, too, which surely earns him more than enough money to successfully continue his various artistic endeavors and out-of-uni activities. You’ve heard he’s also into tattoos, boxing, and photography on the side, for example. Whether it was true or not was not something you focused on, but considering his friends were they ones telling the tales, you didn’t doubt it. Not that you thought of it often, or at all, really.

What you did question was why exactly he felt the need to stop by Taehyung’s very own, very private, and very expensive Goghrik’s Vancrylics paint collection to use instead of his own. You didn’t want to think him as cheap because, quite frankly, you knew nothing more than those whispered rumors and offhanded comments Jimin and Yoongi perpetrated on occasion. So, you settled for thinking nothing until you could get concrete answers. 

For a long time Jungkook remained a simple ghost, until finally one day he just existed. Everywhere, and then, always. As if meeting him once meant he’d open the door to your home to welcome himself as an indefinite guest, you suddenly had no week free of his presence or his trace. Like a growing avalanche you learned about him with repeated increase, sometimes by choice, and sometimes by mere coincidence. Maybe it was pure coincidence, too, how you came to fall for him — for Jeon Jungkook, the artist, the fuckboy. With time though, you came to a different understanding.

Liking Jungkook was no coincidence.  It was a curse – a long, and tediously everlasting hex you’d so far failed to get rid of.  

And it all started, you begrudgingly admit sometimes, with some paint and very little luck.

Being in one of the most prestigious Universities in the country naturally means you consistently face the demon of a huge – nay, an enormous campus. A wide lake rests between dispersed buildings while Hi-Q food marts border each cluster of separate dorms, connected all entirely by desire paths and concrete roads. It's no surprise then that a map is the standard gift given to all entrance students, though by now you’ve memorized practically all zones you inhabit (i.e. the Natural Sciences’ Atrium, the Physics Department, and your own dorm). Most people still use theirs, along with the mandatory transportation fare card Admissions urges all newcomers to get. More than anything it’s a must-have for anyone who wants to actually make it on time to class — more so when they’re not blessed with taking courses on a near-by group of Departments.

And it just so happened you’re amongst those ill-fated few.

For four years now you’ve been a resident of Dorm C, exactly the furthest of the dorms from the NS Atrium. Instead you’re — uselessly — at a walking distance from the Plastic Arts department, a place you’ve ventured to for only a single semester back in your second year. Back then you had decided that taking Pottery was a great way to fill in some of your electives, an idea which mostly Taehyung, an art major himself, cemented in your head. You remember nothing of your treks to the department, nor of the lessons you received, but your memory often recalls it happened whenever you visit him. Your final project, a 2-piece set of misshapen cups of tea, still rests atop one of his many bookshelves to this day. Taehyung calls them “endearing”, something about them “truly reflecting a purpose beyond what their ‘perfect brethren’ are subjected to”. Which, really, is code for “they could be used as mugs, but I like them better as vases for Namjoon’s succulents,” and you’re okay with that.

Namjoon, an English Lit major, is Tae’s roommate and the other occupant of their two-bedroom flat. As luck would have it they stay on the floor above your own, right atop your much smaller and much lonelier dorm room. It’s actually one of the shared excuses you all use for your constant visits.

Half of the time you spend on their flat includes being tucked away on their couch, reading astronomy journals or watching documentaries Joon frequently sits through alongside you, or sleeping under Tae’s covers simply because he enjoys the company and can’t seem to sleep otherwise. The rest of the time the boys, sometimes with you in tow on an off day, migrate to Jimin and Yoongi’s shared flat in Dorm D. They share their space with Jungkook, if Yoongi’s complaints about late-night water-fests were anything to go by, though you’ve never seen him there.

No, ironically, the first time you crossed paths with him was in the lobby of Dorm C — your dorm. You remember he was shifting and wandering around like a lost puppy, his eyes restlessly searching for something or someone. It was him, you knew, because he’s often featured in your shared friend’s Instagram posts, and because he’s very hard to miss.

He was — is big, towering over you easily, and was then dressed all in black. A mix of comfy and effortlessly put together in perfect execution, the rolled-up sleeves of his sweater did nothing to hide the ink covering his veiny forearms. You were instantly thankful — you’ve always been drawn to tattoos. They’re admirable on others and on yourself, and you instantly had to push down the desire to keep marking your body for reasons only pertinent to the feeling of the needle on your skin or the aesthetics of the design. Your poor ass couldn’t afford another so soon, anyway.

The other thing that gave him away was his signature dark hair, long and parted in the middle to fall over his round, soft eyes. It covered his multiple piercings but did nothing to take away from the sweet persona that settled over him. Despite the dark and the goth, he seemed… cute. Very cute, and very confused. The way his eyebrows furrowed at his phone screen just before he searched through the scattered students was a dead giveaway. He was likely lost, but that wasn’t very surprising. For all the time Tae and Joon spend on Dorm D, the same couldn’t be said otherwise. Visits to Dorm C were seldom for the rest.

And a lost Jungkook… wasn’t your problem. A simple look at his boyish features was enough to ignite some sort of weird somersaults in your chest, and you wanted nothing more than to ignore it and run far away. So, you tried.

Blinking away the staring he had thankfully not noticed, you made for your own room as embarrassment coursed through your jittery limbs.

You didn’t make it very far before your plan backfired. You had to go near him to reach the elevator, and it apparently didn’t matter that you were practically hiding inside your bag, your hand rummaging through it for your room cardkey.

“Hey—uh, Y/N right?” you heard, and your body froze.

A look up, and there he was. Jeon Jungkook, calling your name. It was weird hearing your mesh of letters on his tongue, foreign to his palette yet pronounced to perfection. Equally confused as he looked before, and even further more embarrassed (you couldn’t help but think, amongst all the chaos in your mind, that his voice was ridiculously soothing and fitting for his physicality), your throat only let out a very intellectual “huh?”

“Um,” Jungkook’s eyes went wide, his head cocked to the side at your reaction. His feet shifted under him, and you tried ignoring the way his cheeks grew a lovely shade of pink when he spoke again.

“I’m Jungkook, and hyung—Taehyung mentioned you before. He isn’t answering and I’m a bit lost, so I was wondering if you could give me directions? Unless you’re not… Y/N?”

You’re often a recurrent character in Tae’s stories, so it shouldn’t have surprised you he’s spoken of you before. But it did.

“I am Y/N,” you relented, maybe a bit more bitterly than you intended. You couldn’t help but pout at the sudden reminder of Tae’s love for recording you during your most… inopportune moments. “Where is it you want to go?”

The boy in question rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a bunny-like smile making a sudden appearance. His teeth seemed to jut out a bit, and his upper lip disappeared almost entirely, but you were sure of one thing instantly: his smile was the prettiest one you’d ever seen.

You felt your chest constrict at the sight without any sense of permission, your ears going up in flames. Clearly, you were bonkers. You continued your walk towards the elevator, praying he’d keep up somewhere a bit farther from you.  But he followed without question, easily settling besides you and offering glances from the corner of his eye. You pressed the up button and pretended not to notice, playing around with your cardkey while you both waited.

“To hyung’s dorm — I haven’t ever been there, as strange as it sounds, and I need to borrow some paint.”

“Borrow some paint?” you hummed, the notion seeming somewhat silly to you. “After you’ve used it you can’t return it, so would it really be borrowing?”

You moved to look at him questioningly, curiosity getting the best of you, and the feeling you were hit with was far too paralyzing for you to carry. It was a sudden storm of affection, a wave of currents that spread and tightened, tickling and burning your stomach each second you saw his crinkled eyes, his teeth fully bared into a humorous grin. It made your feet stick to the ground even after the doors of the elevator greeted you open.

“You’re a weird one aren’t you?” he muttered airily, more to himself than anything, before shrugging and prompting you to follow him inside the confined space. “Technically, you’re right, but saying I’m borrowing stuff sounds nicer, doesn’t it? It’s all about semantics. Don’t worry though, hyung lets me take some of his whenever I run out.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you said much after that, but you did take him all the way to Tae’s and Joon’s front door. He thanked you softly before you left, with a smile sincere and gentle in ways you hadn’t expected. You remember nodding along and, possibly, wishing him good luck on his art project, but you weren’t sure by the time you reached your room.

You remember skipping your assignments that night, choosing instead a hot shower and the comforts of your recently cleaned bed. It was the first attempt at forgetting the whole event, a new mission for your mind to complete before a crush settled its anchor.

You were used to six handsome guys. You drew the line at seven.

Meeting Jungkook for the first time was disastrous for the days that followed. Maybe you were being a bit dramatic, but it was rightfully warranted. Your brain had vaguely memorized what he looked like outside of pictures, and now you saw him everywhere. It was the frequency bias all over again, and it had no escape, just like that one time you wanted to dye your hair and suddenly half the population seemed to be dying it that very color. Similarly, interacting with Jungkook meant noticing him in your peripheral when he wasn’t front and center, knowing it was him in the distance. It only worsened when your paths began to regularly cross.

It happened and continuous to happen mostly in the presence of Tae or Joon, or any of Jungkook’s roommates. 

Whenever you’d spend some time on the couch with Joon, he was there. Whenever you woke up midday and decide it was high time to cook brunch for three (four then), he was already there. When Yoongi invited you over to hear some of the pieces he’s been working on, Jungkook was miraculously in the apartment. Oh, you wanted to steal some of Tae’s shirts? Jungkook catches you red handed, some stolen paints of his own right in his treacherous hold.

It’s absolutely maddening.

You wouldn’t mind it so much if it weren’t for the fact that each new stare, each new smile, leaves your stomach in complete shambles.

Who could take you back to the time when you hadn’t heard his loud laugh? To when he hadn’t seen you loafing around in your onesie after a killer test and stayed to comfort you? He even called you cute, shared some of his milk and made sure to leave only after he’d seen you smile. Sometimes he’d even notice you watch your documentaries only to pop a random question about space, or even about the science behind Star Trek or Star Wars when “Clearly FTL travel isn’t possible?” (To which you’d answer: “Not yet it isn’t, you non-believer”) before falling quiet and leaving you be. They were small conversations with no more than 3 lines exchanged, but they were more than enough for the butterflies seeping through your ribcage to go on a frenzy.

And despite everything you heard and everything you began to know, Jungkook was possibly the softest, sweetest, and most annoying person you knew. At least superficially. 

You still knew nothing personal about him, with your interactions being limited to shared spaces, but you didn’t think much of it until you began to see all kinds of things: his cute habits, his quirks, and even the way his tattoo collection grows.

You’ve silently noticed the way he wiggles his toes when he sits to watch a series, how he blinks a lot when he’s confused. You’ve seen the way he scratches the back of his head when he’s not confident about something, and how his eyes smile before his lips do, and the way his laugh resonates all around the room in the most euphoric melodies. All of this you come to know as unequivocally Jungkook. And you know, you know you’re so whipped for him that you can’t stop being in-tuned with it, with his little things.

But you’re also aware of your situation, and it doesn’t surprise you when your chest starts to hurt over it — over him, because you see his other things: the way each week curls a different girl around his waist, the way his eyes turn cold when he says he doesn’t do relationships, and the way he looks at you.

It’s never with disgust or anything of the sort. It’s just that you’ve seen the way he looks at the girls he fucks with, the girls he finds attractive, the girls he likes for a single night to then discard them.

And he’s never looked at you like that. You suppose that’s good, but... then again, you guess it means you’re nothing. After all, Jeon Jungkook never offers you any hope, he never shows any interest. Technically you’re not even his friend — not really. You’re Taehyung’s other best friend, an outside addition to his usual friend group, and now to his life. You’re okay with that, you have to be. You haven’t sought him out, haven’t done anything to close the gap between you. Water and care is something you never wanted to give your unjustified feelings. You never wanted them to grow, even now.

You just failed to take note of the rain pouring over the earth and pooling beneath your feet, and you don’t notice you’re drowning until you see him at the end of the day.

The girl attached to him is a stranger to you, just like the rest you’ve seen, yet you can’t seem to shake the thought that something must be different. Whatever she has seems to be enough for the tattooed man to shatter his distaste for PDA, at least for the time being.

Your legs hesitate to unceremoniously halt in the middle of the hall. Your eyes battle not to widen and not to stare, for a second desperate to make sure that what you’re seeing is real, that you’re seeing Jungkook kiss for the first time in forever as if you hadn’t known all this time that he fucks and loves behind closed doors. 

And it doesn’t matter that the kiss isn’t gentle, that he’s kissing her as if she were the very air he needed to breathe. No, what makes you sick is how he notices, how he sees you, and how he does nothing but pull her closer in response.

You push yourself to move as soon as his eyes drift away again, unwilling to tremble before him and unwilling to make any more mistakes.

Class would have to wait. You needed coffee, even if it meant being late. And you absolutely hate being late to Astrophysics, but you definitely hated seeing him more.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts fanfiction #drabble series: dct

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Paper Man.”

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED:  GORE, VIOLENCE, MORAL AMBIGUITY 

Ok guys, I am giving this a rated R for violence specifically. I wanted to play around with some extreme moral issues, and I ended up doing just that. So if you didn’t read the horror chapter, then I suggest very much not reading this one.

It is the third and last installment to my little prison series, so you can imagine what might be in here. I leave it up to you to decide if you can handle it or not. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. :) 

I designed this specifically to expose Adam’s character to an extreme situation hes probably not emotionally equipped for. 

Commander Vir wiped a smear of excess inc from the man’s skin and sat back to view his handiwork. He had to admit that he was definitely getting better now that he had figured out how to use the damned machine. Not to mention that he spent most of his free time drawing for fear that he was going to screw up and get his ass kicked. 

In all honesty, he could have been a pretty talented artist if he had ever bothered to practice, but he hadn’t drawn, conventionally, since he was in middle school and, as a result, his drawing had suffered . However, now that he was in prison, he had a surprising amount of free time to work on extracurricular skills. If he wasn’t pumping iron with the others, he was working on a new tattoo design or applying the inc. 

While it sucked pretty hard core to be here, he had found a relatively safe middle ground. Being able to do inc gave him certain privileges among the other humans, not to mention his personal connection to krill, who was invaluable as the crew’s medic. Having worked at the biggest trauma center in the galaxy, the kind of wounds they generally received was a cakewalk to the little alien.

The problem…..well, that was the Drev, and the fact that every human and their dog had, at one point, boasted to the larger, scarier aliens about having a member of operation steel-eye in their ranks. They did pretty much everything but directly mention his name, but they may as well have been dancing a naked jig around him with signs directed at his chest saying “Here I am come shank me.” 

He wasn’t sure how well the goading would work with Drev. He had learned from Sunny, that a good Drev considered war to be impersonal, and those who beat you in battle were supposed to be treated with respect, but this was also coming from the Drev whose mother had gone off the deep end and plotted to destroy humanity, so he had a feeling he couldn’t rely on Drev honor to keep him from getting eviscerated. 

He cleaned his tools off in the best way he knew how and allowed the man to finally take a look. He held his breath.

The man examined the tattoo for a very long moment, and for this horrible second, Adam feared he was about to be pounded into the concrete, “Good work Steel!” Instead, he got a heavy slap on the back, which probably would have slammed him into the pavement anyway for his trouble, but it simply sent him into a stagger, and the other man walked away flexing his arm. Adam grimaced. He wasn’t entirely sure had to do proper, post-art care was going to work down here, and just had to hope that the man wouldn’t end up with some sort of nasty infection. 

His hopes were not particularly high.

At least Krill would be there to clean up the aftermath.

The rest of the humans were outside again today, but technically, all the facilities were open, still he preferred to go back upstairs to his cell for some privacy. He tucked the little case of tools into his single pocket and made his way into the building and towards the stairs. The Drev had taken the TV today and was watching some horrible remake of a classic 2000 movie. There were a lot of explosions and 0 practical effects. 

Seemed like a drev thing to do, and he tried to remain unseen as he moved up the stairs and towards his cell. He made it there safely enough, got some privacy and, stupidly, stepped out just in time to meet a group of drev walking down the catwalk.

He froze just outside his room  staring at them. They paused to look at him. No one moved for the longest time. Multiple arms flexed, and the large female at the front dropped her head aggressively over her throat. It didn’t take a genius to know what that meant, and before he knew it, his heart was hammering in his throat, his vision had tunneled, and his feet hammered against the catwalk as he bolted for the stairs.

A drev war cry rose behind him, and feet thundered against metal sending terrible vibrations up through his shins and knees. He made it to the stairs and nearly tripped. He caught himself with one hand watching as a life a paralysis flashed before his eyes. The thundering behind him grew stronger, so in a moment of panic, he flung himself over the side of the railing and dropped to the ground almost fifteen feet below. He took the entire impact through the inferior metal of his prosthetic leg collapsing onto the concrete with a sharp thud. Pain blossomed from that same same hip rocketing up his side and into his chest. 

Something in the prosthetic snapped and splintered, but he didn’t have time to think about that, dragging himself to his feet and limping pst the tables, shoving other prisoners aside, and ducking past confused drev now being galvanized into action by the war cries of their leaders. 

“RUN STEEL, RUN!” There was a thunderous roar, and a wave of humans came crashing into the tables stopping the Drev in their tracks as they tried to follow after Adam.

One prisoner wrenched a chair form the floor and clobbered a Drev in the head with it. Lights and sirens exploded around them as the guards came pouring onto the catwalks screaming for everyone to get down. The riot continued behind him as he scrambled on his busted prosthetic. He looked over his shoulder just in time to duck under the angry swing of an approaching Drev. 

He hit the floor on hands and toes for a moment scrambling under a table before racing forward into one of the auxiliary hallways. A table collapsed behind him as the Drev leaped atop it. Cells flashed by him and footsteps gained.

More lights flashed, and the cell doors began to close slowly.

Footsteps were gaining, and were almost upon him as a hand shot out form one of the cells and bodily dragged him through the door, just as it was shutting. He collapsed to the concrete floor just as the Drev slammed into the bars reaching through for him with all four limbs, which it immediately regretted as a metal pipe was rammed into it’s outstretched hands. It cursed in it’s guttural language and drew back angrily.

Adam looked up to find a man standing just to his side. He was an unassuming thin man with little circular glasses, and a slightly soft physique, but he was grinning and stuck out his tongue out at the Drev who then stepped back growling and walked away knowing that he could not make it through the bars. The man dropped the pipe on the bed and turned to look at Adam.

“Close call there, Commander.”

Adam blinked in confusion and shock, “You, you know who I am?”

The man smiled, “Know who you are, I’d have to be living under a rock not to know. I have been following your career for a very long time. A big fan actually.” He held out a hand and hauled Adam to his feet, “Surprised the other's haven't figured it out yet, your disappearance has been all over the news.”

Adam limped over to the bed and sat down pulling up his pant leg to examine the damaged prosthetic. The plastic casing had been completely cracked up one side, and a few of the shock-absorbent springs had been popped from their sockets. The inside of the casing rattled. He frowned.

“I…. thanks for saving my life.”

The man just grinned, “happy to help an intergalactic hero.”

Adam awkwardly waved a hand, but inside he was more than relieved to have found someone who actually believed him. The man seemed pretty trustworthy compared to the others, and he wondered what kind of crime the man could have commuted to get himself into this sort of mess. He didn’t exactly seem like the type to be involved in overtly violent crime. Perhaps he was here on accident, just like Adam himself.

“I had actually been meaning to approach you earlier, but you got snagged up by the guys in the yard so fast, I didn’t really have the time.”

“And you weren't?” he wondered 

The man shook his head, “No, I was a late night transfer. No one was here when I showed up, so I was able to fly under the radar. I don’t leave my cell all that much accept for meals, and they generally tend to ignore me.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It is, but it is also nice to have a little company every now and again. And the company of someone like you is even better. Someone who isn’t actually a violent criminal.”

“Than what are you here for if not violent crime.”

The man waved a hand, “Just something stupid. More of a misunderstanding really. Personally I think it was no big deal, but it really bothered some important people,and I ended up here. I Think they hope that I am going to rot here and be forgotten, but I don’t plan on that happening. I plan on serving my time, getting out and going back to my old life as it was.” 

“That sounds nice, I would give pretty much anything to be back to my ship.” he sighed and leaned back against the concrete wall, “if I am being honest, It is nice to be around someone who isn’t totally nuts.”

“Personally, I think we should make this a habit.”

“Alright, I can agree to that…. What’s your name by the way?”

“Ted, Ted Gacey.” The two men shook hands, a pleasure to meet you.

-

The days turned into weeks and the weeks were dangerously close to turning into months. He had narrowly dodged a few more conflicts with the Drev, and the Boss had taken to sending him around with bodyguards as a show of force. That made slipping away to have privacy kind of difficult, but he had managed it meeting with his new friend on occasion to play cards in the other man’s single-bed cramped cell. It seemed as if the two of them had a lot in common, or at least enough. They had the same idea with current intergalactic politics, they had some of the same hobbies, and tended to agree with each other on more social issues. 

It was a nice breath of fresh air.

Adam had even introduced krill to his new friend. Krill had been wary of the man from the beginning, but to be fair he was wary of pretty much everyone, and the Commander could hardly blame him. This was a prison after all, and most of the people who were here, were here for a reason, reasons they tended to make plainly obvious through their actions.

Despite being safeguarded from the Drev by other humans, he still wasn’t safe. On more than one occasion he had narrowly dodged some sort of altercation with one of the humans in the party. Generally it was over the asking price of a tattoo, which was based on yard currency in cigarettes and pills. Generally he ended up just handing them over to avoid an altercation. The issue with that is it meant some people knew they could squeeze him for his cash, and often came back to do so. He didn’t want to tell the boss for fear of being labeled a snitch, which was a pretty big insult in the yard, so he made sure to keep his earnings off his person at all times, and often lied to the guys when they came looking telling them that he had lost his currency to another guy with the same idea. 

He wasnt looking forward to the day when the lying would catch up with him, but so was his current life. Of course there was also the occasional issue regarding his issue in holding his tongue, and he had ended up accidentally insulting someone on more than one occasion. He had been punched at least twice in the intervening months, but he supposed it could have been worse. He hadn’t broken his nose and both eye sockets were still in tact, so it could have been worse.

His third Issue came from Krill himself. While the little alien was mostly to fearful to do anything other than what he was ordered to do, he had an unfortunate sarcastic streak, which got him into trouble on occasion. Adam was forced to either talk the guys down, or turn the wrath away from his friend often resulting in a drop in pay, some sort of bargain or taking a hit. He was getting pretty sick and tired of it.

If he was being totally honest with himself, he had a relatively low pain threshold. He didn’t like getting kicked around. He wanted out of this place so badly, but the longer the days dragged on, the less hope he had. It was only a matter of time until something truly horrible happened, and there would be no way for him to stop it. How much was he willing to deal with? 

-

He woke up as the hand clamped over his mouth. His eyes shot open, but his scream was muffled as the heavy, slick palm pressed into his face. He trashed against hands that held him down, but they were too strong. In groggy horror and fear he realized this was it, this was the end. 

The event he had been waiting for.

The hand tightened, “Stop struggling, and shut up for a minute.” The voice hissed.

He grew very still breathing heavy, ragged breaths through his nose heart hammering eyes prickling with moisture brought on by total fear.

“It’s just me Steel, the boss. Now, I am going to remove my hand, and you are going to be silent.” A hint of relief, and he nodded his head as the hand was removed. He took a clear cleansing air of the musty cell and sat up.

The boss knelt next to his bed with krill hovering nervously behind him.

He rubbed his eyes, “What’s going on?” Adam asked groggily 

The man held a finger to his lips “The boys and I just got word of someone on this block that has a less than stellar record.” Adam didn’t bother to point out the irony as the man continued, “This will be your chance to prove your loyalty to the yard kid. In the morning, we are going to fuck this son of a bitch up.”

Adam rubbed the back of his head nervously, “What…. What did he do.”

“Why don’t you take a look for yourself.” the man whispered, passing over a tiny screen showing the man’s incarceration records. As he read, Adam’s stomach twisted and hisirst reaction was one of visceral anger and an incomprehensible burning hatred. He tried to choke it back disgusted with his own feelings, but they kept coming back…. Images of his fists bloody with someone else’s blood.

The Boss chuckled darkly, “Thought you might have that reaction. You know how I feel about people who hurt kids.”

Adam wiped his mouth feeling nauseous pushing the screen back towards the boss 

“So when you say, fuck him up.”

“I mean, we’re gonna kill him.”

Adam was suddenly struck with the most uncomfortable sensation in his entire life, a horrible sinking twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach negated and confused by the ravenous anger and glee that he felt at the idea. The feeling was horrible wrenching him in two different directions. One spoke with the voice of his mother and urged him to take the high road. It wasn’t his job to take care of these sort of problems, it was never okay to hurt people that is what the law was for, but another part of him disagreed. This was a lawless planet, and the law was broken besides it didn’t matter after reading that report he knew for certain that the an deserved worse than death, so really killing him was a mercy.

The nausea grew worse the more he thought. He was stuck inside a living nightmare. He couldn’t make a decision like this. Either way he would never be able to live with himself. If he chose to go along with he prisoners, he would be partially responsible for a murder, but if he didn’t he would, in essence, be siding with a monster.

The boss glowered at him with his dark, beady eyes, “You aren't going to chicken out on us are you? You know what this guy did. Not going to side with him are you because if you don’t help us ...”

He let the threat hang on the dark air of the cell. Adam felt his heart sinking even further, and now if he didn’t help murder someone he would be taking the side of the monster, and everyone would blame him for it. Who knows what would happen to him after that. He glanced over at Krill who could only look on at him in pity. He probably had no idea the internal struggle he was having right now, but it hardly mattered. Krill knew that this wasn’t going to be good.

“Who is this guy….” Adam wondered, “Someone we know?”

The man scrolled down on the report, “The guy’s name is Ted, seems to have managed to fly under the radar since getting here.”

Adam felt his heart go cold.

No no no no please no.

The screen turned to face him, and his stomach dropped into the very void itself. He knew that face, he knew that face as a friend, someone he liked, someone he had confided in, someone he had respected, someone he assumed had been innocent. He had played cards with him bemoaned their current living situation. The man had told him his crime was ‘no big deal. He felt nauseous and angry all over again. How could he help kill someone he had liked. How could he even feel remorse for a lying sack of shit that DESERVED to die. Why did he feel bad for WANTING to choke the life out of that man.

The competing emotions made him sick for real. His stomach churned.

The boss patted him on the back, “I know as a matter of course that the guy comes out once a day to eat. Tomorrow at noon, we strike. Made a truce with the bats and the beetles to get in the way of the guards so we can finish the job.”

“But… you hate the Drev.” he whispered his voice choked.

“I do, but I hate this guy even more.” He stood stretching, “I will leave you to a good night’s rest, Steel. Make sure you have your strength for tomorrow.” He got up and left as silently as he had come. Krill remained floating at the side of the cell. Commander Vir remained paralyzed where he sat. Conversations flashed through his head, he remember the man’s face, and couldn’t help his imagination as he wondered how those kids felt. Then his imaginings grew violent. He felt tendons squeeze and pop below his hands as he choked the life out of that man.

He lurched violently from his bed bracing himself with one hand against the wall as he hovered over the toilet. Behind him, his cellmate shifted in his sleep. His mouth watered as it tends to right before one loses their lunch. He squeezed his eyes shut. His skin crawled as he remembered every time that man had touched him, thought about where those hands had been and what they had done.

Saliva dripped in silver strings from his mouth. His stomach clenched. He dry heaved once, but nothing came up, and it didn’t even give him the courtesy of happening fading enough so he stood back up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Krill stood worriedly next to him as he sunk down to the floor next to the shiny silver bowl face in his hands

“What are you going to do?” krill whispered.

“I… I don’t know.” he gripped his hair in both fists still nauseous feeling sick and disgusting wishing that he could scrub off the first layer of his skin. Wishing that he had never ended up in this hell hole, “You only have one option….. You have to do it…”  Krill’s voice was regretful but clearly resigned.

He dragged his fingers down his face, “I ...I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.” His stomach churned.

Krill stared at him in confusion sensing a but.

“But…. I want to…. Krill he he LIED to me, and he…. The things he’s done.” he shook his head as a flash of inhuman or perhaps superhuman anger rushed through him, “he deserves to DIE!” Krill took a step back from him in surprise. The anger faded again to a dep profound sickness, “Krill I… I don’t know what to do. Killing people it isn’t right, hurting people isn’t right, no matter how much I want to do it…… and i want to do it Krill. I've never wanted anything so bad before. I it scares me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. 

Krill rested one of his appendages on the man’s shoulder face buried back in his hands, “I don’t entirely understand.”

He looked up agonized green eye caught in the dim light of the cell, “I…. he deserves to die Krill…. After reading that. I want nothing more than to kill him. That’s the most monstrous inhuman horrible thing that a person can do, and every…. Every fiber of my being want to hurt him, wants to make him suffer.” His voice hissed through his teeth with the strength of his anger before churning downwards, “But ... but I’m supposed to be better than that, Krill. Commander of the UNSC I am an upholder of the law, I i cant stoop to beating people to death. I can't do this. If I did this I would just prove I’m not worthy to hold the position, and I would disappoint everyone who has ever known me I’d disappoint myself. Id become one of them.” He glanced towards the door, “Thi issue is supposed to be something for the law.” He tugged at his hair in frustration, “But the law here is so twisted….. Krill I…. I don’t know what to do.”

Krlil Could only stand and watch helpless as the human struggled internally. Krill himself understood what was logical. The idea of a moral right and wrong was not something he could entirely comprehend. Things either made sense, or they didn’t and right now following rule of the gang was the only thing that made sense. The guy deserved it, the commander wanted too, and he would be punished if he didn’t, so there seemed to be only one logical course of action.

But then again, the man had always had a strong ‘moral compass’ and it could potentially cause some severe psychological damage if he did…. Something that other species would never have to deal with. Either way he would lose.

Krill tried to comfort his friend, but paranoia made him return to his cell for fear of retribution leaving Commander Vir alone in the dark curled in a ball head in hands wishing more than anything that he could be anywhere else than struggling with his own indecision. The gut most human part of him leading to violence while the higher part of him told him it was wrong. 

He didn’t sleep that night.

-

The star rose on an unsuspecting landscape. The prison doors opened with a buzz and prisoners staggered rubbing their eyes groggily as they moved out into the hall. Commander Vir stepped from his room like a zombie eyes red face pale, only to be greeted by the other members of the crew who shared wolfish, knowing looks.

He didn’t have the stomach for breakfast, and sat, staring down the hall with a hammering heart. The hours ticked on bringing him closer and closer to a decision. 

His heart ached.

Sitting out in the yard, head bowed face down, he still hadn’t come to a decision. He could hear the other humans muttering around him with anticipation for what was to come. He wished the guards would take notice of the strange behavior and act on it. They had to know something was up, with the prisoners sitting around doing nothing, looking hungrily towards the mess hall doors like a pack of ravening animals.

He didn’t want any part of this.

He had never thought in a million years that he would have to make this sort of decision, and what was worse, he hated how he felt. He wanted nothing more than to watch this guy get what was coming to him. 

If he really was a good person, if he really cared, wouldn’t he tell someone? 

There was a sharp whistle, and all the men on the yard stood eagerly from their seats and headed towards the doors. His heart sank into his chest, and he stood but had trouble making himself move. A hand clamped about hi shoulder from behind, and he was shoved towards the open doors, “Don’t chicken out on us now Steel.” Smiley whispered from behind.

He was pushed through the door sitting down at a table slightly away from the others. He had ordered Krill off to his cell for the duration of what was about to happen. He didn’t want the little alien to have to see what was about to happen. If he could have, he would have made it so that HE didn’t have to see what was going on. 

He didn’t see how the guards couldn’t sense what was about to happen. The tension in the air was palpable and could have been hacked through with a dull knife. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, hoping that the man would not come through those doors. Perhaps he would stay in his cell today, and no one would be the wiser. Perhaps someone would come and find him before this was all said and done, and he wouldn’t have to hear about it.

He tried to fight back those thoughts, the thoughts of a coward. Just because he wasn’t here didn’t mean that he should ignore it. He couldn't’ just wash his hands of the situation 

He SHOULD get up and tell the guards what was going to happen and consequences be damned.

But another part of him, a secret dark part of him….. Refused to bring himself to do it. That man knew what he did. He had made the decisions that brought him here, he had done something unforgivable and disgusting, and now he deserved to get what was coming to him, it was only fair after all the things he had done. It wasn’t Adam’s responsibility to go out of his way to help a man who deserved nothing better than death. In fact, death was to easy of a punishment in his opinion.

There were just some things that were unforgivable.

He felt, rather than saw when the man entered. He sensed it on the tensing of the air. Even the Drev had chosen to make themselves scarce retreating to their cells or the catwalks high above to watch what was about to happen. It seemed as if only the guards didn’t know. Or perhaps they did, and they didn’t care.

He sat hunched over his trey praying, and felt his heart tighten when a shadow darkened the seat across from him.

He couldn’t bare to look up.

“Good morning, Commander. I missed your company this morning.” The sound of the man’s voice made his skin crawl. His heart began to race and he felt a sudden overwhelming burst of white hot hatred. The feeling scared him, and he tried his best to choke it down, but it wouldn’t go. Sensing the man there, hearing his sniveling voice and thinking about the times they had made contact with each other. Handing over a card or even shaking hands.

It made him sick, and angry.

He made no noise.

“Is everything alright.” The man wondered.

Another shadow crossed over his back. He could feel them gathering behind him. The man before him went silent head tilted back to look upwards at the looming figures beginning to gather around the table.

A hand landed on the Commander’s shoulder, “Steel…. This…. A friend of yours.” the voice was cold and hard.

There was a long silence.

“I don’t want any trouble.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezed, “Steel.”

Commander Vir lifted his eyes from the table, making contact with the pleading expression of the man across the table. His watery grey eyes, his unassuming appearance, his receding mousy hairline. He looked like your average middle-aged man…. No, he was a monster wearing the skin of an average middle aged man.

Commander Vir felt as if he was watching himself in third person over his own shoulder. The boyish, wide eyed, honorable side of him was violently beaten down and dragged into a closet as something worse appeared materialized from the darkness in his head. The natural man took the controls cold and hard empty emotionless a creature of self satisfaction, the Id, the part of him that wanted nothing more than immediate reward, sadistic, hateful, envious, and carnal. 

It had no mercy.

And it was as if from the opposite side of the glass he heard himself say.

“No….. he’s no friend of mine.”

And like his words had been the damn that held back hell, the hounds were released, and a moment later the room was filled with the uproar of screaming voices and cries of horrific animalistic agony.

Adam was pushed to the side, and the table at which he sat was overturned as a riot of men threw themselves past him. He hit the floor and rolled to the side coming to land in a crouch just to the right of the overturned table. The room echoed and clattered. 

Screams of absolute agony cut through the air. Sirens blared red and bloody painting the walls in a hellish light.

Something cracked.

Screaming.

He crouches watching a writing mass of bodies, a horrific amalgamation of man’s worst instincts piled together in a many legged many armed creatures. Hands raised and plunged downwards violently, repeatedly. Blood painted the floor like a Jackson Pollock painting done in red. The screaming grew until it was no longer human, a guttural animalistic wale that rent the very air around them.

They were tearing him apart.

Adam felt the corner of his mouth twist in grim satisfaction, and then immediately snapped back to reality choked with disgust and horror. Rooted to the spot doing NOTHING watching a man being murdered before his eyes, and yet...

In the midst of it all, he couldn’t bring himself to intervene.

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder shoving him forward, “GET IN THERE.” The boss growled hand coming away covered in blood. A small part of himself, that animal from earlier snarled at the door to his cage.

A part of him wanted more than anything to join in.

Watched in satisfaction as he got what was coming to him. He relished the poetic justice of it all, while at the same time feeling disgust at himself. The world around him seemed to flow in slow motion. Small droplets of blood leaped into the air where they caught the light before falling back to earth. Something else cracked.

He felt his heart jumped with a sick excitement.

“No.” he whispered 

The world lost all sound. The screaming faded and died. The boss cut around to look down at him, “What.”

“I said, no.” he whispered again.

A body skidded past them on the floor ragged, torn.

Eyes narrowed, anger flared in the depth of two black pupils. He rose in Adam’s vision, “You would side with the FREAK!” “I side with NO ONE .” Adam spat.

The man stared at him, a once, predatory friendliness turned to ice, “You will wish you had never been born.” but he had more immediate matters to attend to, turning and joining the climax of the fight. Adam remained rooted to the spot sick horrified as bone snapped, and the body went silent and limp.

They didn’t stop there….. They kept going on and on and on as Commander Vir stood on and watched. The tables had all been overturned, blood painted the floor in wide arcs. And there he stood doing nothing, neither joining or helping. Holding back like a coward, like some kind of sadistic animal looking on like an unfeeling king watches an execution, watches men women and children hang from a rope. The men pulled away from the bloody husk twisted and broken on the ground, and at that moment Adam Vir was hit with a sense of horror and self loathing he couldn’t have comprehended even ten minutes before. The bloodied corpse grew up in his vision until it filled his head, dead staring eyes boring into his soul, a snapshot that would remain with him forever.

A man he had condemned to death with his actions and his words. 

He was a sick twisted bastard.

And he had allowed a man to die…. Had encouraged it with his innaction, had wanted it. And deep down, he had relished it in a deep sick part of his mind he felt no remorse. 

He was glad the sick fuck was gone.

Perhaps that’s why he stayed, he could have run knowing what was coming, but he didn’t deserve to run. He didn’t deserve to fight back. He didn’t even close his eyes as the circle closed in around him, men covered in blood like a pack of hyenas feeding on carrion returning to finish off a wounded prey animal.

The boss stopped a few feet in front of him, body painted with the world’s most horrific body paint, “Now that we’ve gotten rid of one sick fuck, we now have to get rid of the sympathizers.” 

He saw the first coming, could have dodged…. But he didn’t.

HE was hauled to his feet by smiley jerked off his feet by the front of his jumpsuit. Hoisted into the air so that his toes were dangling inches from the ground. Lights grew up in his eyes as he stared upwards watching the balconies and the surrounding Drev staring down at him like the council at his trial their expressions uncaring…. Even pleased.

“You had your orders.” The man spat. “And you stood there like a coward.”

Adam locked eyes with the man, “You;re right.” He said simply

The first punch was a kidney shot and had him on the ground writhing in agony within the first few seconds. It was hard to remember what happened next. The boot to the face, kicked in the side, the chest ribs. He was punched in the head, it was all a blur of faces all anger and malice. People who had once considered him a friend now drove their bodies against him in a frenzy that painted his blood across the floor with that of a deadman.

The latch to his prosthetic snapped. Metal was ripped away from his body. 

He screamed once, was kicked in the stomach and choked on his own missing air. But he didn’t fight them, he didn’t deserve to fight them. 

He curled up into a ball forearms covering his face and despite the pain and the agony, he refused to pass out. He didn't deserve that. Inside his head visions of that bloody…. Thing repeated over and over and over again

Voices swelled up around him, yelling and barking. Men cried out in pain, and with one last kick to his thigh, he was left lying in a pool of his own blood face resting against the cold concrete/ Voices rose above him, grabbing him about the arms and dragging him away. He heard the voices of the guards, watched the lights overhead pass over him in sharp streaks. Something warm trickled down the side of his face. Spilled onto the floor to be smeared into the concrete.

A door opened, and he was thrown inside.

A concrete room with no windows, a steel door, no bed and a hole in the far corner.

In tremendous pain, the man pulled himself sitting back on his knees and stared down at his hands covered in congealing blood once steady. As he watched they began to shake uncontrollably. He hunched forward hands to his chest face contorted into an expression of pain, and agony, not from the wounds, ot from the pain, but from the realization of what he had done.

A sob escaped him, and he didn’t try to fight it. His body ached with horrific pain with every racking sob. Tears tracked pathways through the blood on his face and fell to the ground a delicate pink. 

What had he done?

He had sat there, and he had watched a man brutally murdered. And he had done nothing about it….. A part of him had even enjoyed it. 

He watched in turmoil as the picture he had crafted of himself shattered into a million pieces and cascaded around him to the floor. The upstanding, moral man who always did what he knew was right, who was taught by loving parents to take the high road, who modeled himself after superheroes, action heroes, and his own idols. Someone who protected the innocent, upheld the weak and righted the unjust…. Was nothing more than a paper man.

A sham.

A fake.

A lie.

He sobbed into his hands which morphed into screams with the sobs were no longer enough to express his self loathing. What kind of man was he, couldn't even stand by his actions once they were made weeping like a pathetic child.

He lay, cold on the floor for hours and hours staring at the far wall listening to the distant echoes of the prison. As he calmed he took stock of himself swept up the pieces so that he was all together despite being broken.

Though he wished it had never happened, he could change nothing now. He had done what he had done. The ends didn’t justify the means, and just because he hadn’t done anything didn’t mean blood wasn’t on his hands. How could he know what was right do you save a monster because it's morally right, or stand by and watch a monster die because that’s what it really deserves. What gave him the right to make that decision.

-

He lay there for what must have been hours but could have been days his skin growing sticky and then crusted with drying blood. The door to his cell opened, “Get up.” When he couldn’t do it on his own, he was hauled to his feet by one of the guards. Together they walked, and hopped, back down the halls and onto the yard. The entire room was quiet as they stared at him.

He couldn't have cared less that they could see him in such a sorry state, what did it matter now. The paper man had crumbled, they might as well see it. He was left sagging on one leg in the center of the room, and he didn’t bother to move. The men got to their feet glowering down at him with a mixture of expressions. Time moved around him as if at double speed 

A figure scuttled towards him from the darkness, and to his surprise, krill took his hand. 

He had never done anything like that before.

He looked down.

And the alien looked up at him, though he said nothing.

The room grew tighter, men approached from all sides, “Krill, you should go.” His slurred through swollen, painful lips.

“No Commander.” krill responded 

The guard withdrew, and the room shifted forward. This time he did close his eyes. It was one thing to see another man die, but to watch Krill caught up in this was to much. He tried to urge the little alien away once more, but he refused, wrapping his spidery arms around his human friend all too sure that he was going to die here.

But if that was the case, he would not let his human die alone and suffering.

Adam leaned his head against Krill eyes tight shut.

“It’s going to be ok.” The alien muttered 

Adam felt a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.How very human….

Empty platitudes.

The little alien had learned a lot.

A shadow cut past them. He lowered his head.

And the room was split in half by a Drev battle cry so powerful that it rattled the walls and the floors. The man above them staggered back hands over his ears. The catwalks clattered, and the ground shook. Adam opened his eyes lifting them towards the sky, not expecting to find an angel, but getting one in bright blue.

Sunny stood on the catwalk above face contorted with a livid anger that cowed guards, drev and humans alike, “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE.” She snarled at the human standing next to her, turning and shoving Drev two to three feet taller than her out of the way with the ease a bowling ball goes through pins.

The human scampered after her, “We… we had no idea.”

Sunny rounded on here, “DID YOU EVEN BOTHER TO FIND OUT.” Behind her, a member of the UN and the chairwoman of the GA stepped through the doors faces shocked and appalled as they looked about the room and the conditions in which the prisoners were being kept.

Sunny came to to toe with the leader of the Drev yard. At first the large female didn’t move, but a single look from sunny cowed her into groveling submission as sunny shoved past and marched down the stairs. She nearly body checked one of the prisoners over the railing and onto the floor fifteen feet beneath when he did not move fast enough.

Leaving the Chairwoman and the representative above, Sunny raced across the floor and skidding to kneel at Adam’s side. He lifted his head to look at her dried blood cracking against the movement.

A look of pain crossed her face, and a single hand gently cupped the side of his face tilting it this way and that, “Oh Adam, what have they done.” She whispered 

The light above him grew very very bright filling his vision with light, “I’m a paper man,” He whispered, but that was all he could say body slumping into her arms. A murmur grew up around the room.

Sunny hugged the human against her chest.

“Commander!.” Two voices from above, and two marines came leaping down the stairs heedless of their uniforms.. Ramirez and the short, blond hair female marine ‘Maverick’. 

“The hell did they do to you.” The Maverick snarled glowering at the other prisoners standing quietly back in a wide circle.

Their discussion was interrupted as the warden stepped onto the catwalk, ‘I DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHO YOU ARE; YOU HAVE NO JURISDICTION HERE!” “THE HELL WE DON’T.” The UN rep snapped, “By GA law, any HUMAN allowed off earth or mars remains  under the jurisdiction of the UNSC in accordance with the first intercelestial peace accord put forth by the GA in 4018. Furthermore all Tesraki Drev and Rundi subjects are bound by GA bylaw, so YES we have jurisdiction, and we have allowed this to continue long enough. FURTHERMORE.” he said speaking up over the protests of the warden, “You have violated at LEAST 50 intergalactic bylaws, and amendments. What is this 2001, we know what humanity is by now AT LEAST. Not to mention that we show up here and find one of our Commanding officers kneeling in a pool of his own blood, only to learn that you didn’t even bother to verify his identity.”

“He had no prints in the system.” The man snarled 

“ONE PHONE CALL. JUST ONE PHONE CALL. And that is not even TOUCHING on his right to counsel, or a fair trial. We don’t just THROW people in prison based on circumstantial evidence. He was sent here to get down to the problem of intergalactic hormone trade only to be beaten half to death by men no better than animals in a prison, the likes of which we haven't seen since the late 2000s. You sir are a DISGRACE to the ENTIRE HUMAN RACE.” Commander Vir was only half listening idly staring at the lights as someone wiped blood from his face.

“Get him up.”

Someone ducked under one of his arms and he was hauled to his feet. He tried his best to keep one leg under him, but was finding he wasn’t a great amount of help. Maverick supported his one side, while sunny took the other. Ramirez, based on a look, made it very clear what would happen if any of them tried anything grabbing krill by the hand and pulling him along.

It all felt like a dream as the steel catwalk passed below him, and the doors slid open. The prison faded behind him into a maze of hallways.

He was out, he was free.

…. He was finally……

Free.

[andsotheuniverseended]

cephas my beloved

so i don't know if what you meant here was "answer all thirty of the dnd meme questions for cephas" but that is how i'm interpreting it so i'mma go ahead and put it under a cut

(also for those not in the know, Cephas (they/she/him/any pronoun you like) is my stone construct witch. yes those are both homebrew things I found online. i use this witch and just recently updated them to the 3.0 version and i'm very excited about it)

1. if one of their friends was jumping on a bed and asked your character to join them, would they?

Yes, absolutely, of course. The bed would then immediately break because Cephas is a couple tons of solid rock, but that's on their friends for not thinking it through. Or maybe that was the plan. Either way, Cephas is on board.

2. would your character carry around a tiny bath and body works hand sanitizer? if yes, would it have a specific scent?

I mean, Ceph does carry around smelling salts enchanted to smell like whatever would make someone feel better in the moment? Which is kind of the same thing? But anyways the real answer is Probably Not unless it was a gift, because Cephas has no sense of smell and has no need to sanitize.

3. does your character paint their nails? do they wait for them to dry fully afterwards?

Technically he doesn't have nails but Cephas will happily allow themselves to be painted over any part of their body, and will stay completely still until it's dry. I know because the party his done this to them before.

4. if you cut open your character’s heart and there was something inside, what would it be? why?

Hm. I mean. Literally speaking, no heart, you just find stone in there. Figuratively speaking... a jade earring. representative of their first steps towards freedom.

5. do/would your character carry lots of hair ties on their wrist?

Nah, not unless one of the other party members asked.

6. what parts of your character’s voice/manner of speaking are distinct, if any?

Hm. Mostly just that their voice is pretty rough and low. Otherwise I think they talk pretty normal??

7. what’s the first thing your character’s eyes are drawn to on a map?

New places. To all the parts of the world they haven't seen yet, and want to.

8. how did your character feel when they left home for the first time?

Okay I'm going to go with the definition of home that means Cephas has to feel like it's home, which would mean the place where they lived with their BFF Effie. And I think the first time they left there, with an intent to go out and adventure, they felt really excited, happy, and like they were finally doing what they were meant to be doing. They'd been feeling very restless up until that point, so it's kind of like scratching an itch. Very satisfying.

9. where does your character look when they’re the only one walking down a road?

All around. She likes to see everything and doesn't get particularly worried about other people or robbers or things like that, so there's a lot of being generally distracted by whatever scenery they're passing through. Sometimes he'll just stop and pretend to be a statue on the side of the road and people watch for a while, if there's time for it.

10. does your character have tattoos? were they alone the first time they got one?

Being made of stone, my darling Cephas can't get tattoos. If they had actual flesh I do think they'd wanna get some.

11. if a button came loose from your character’s shirt, would they make sure the replacement matched?

Cephas doesn't wear clothes, and if they did 'matching' would not be the thing they cared about, so for sure No.

12. how loudly do they cry?

Gods I feel like a lot of these answers are just "Cephas is a stone construct and therefore cannot/does not do the thing" but like Cephas is a stone construct and cannot cry. There have been a lot of times where they wished they could, but their body wasn't built for it. Typically if they're sad, they're quiet about it, reserved.

13. does your character like holding hands? do they do it often?

Yes! But he doesn't do it very often at all. Stone isn't comfortable for other people to hold, and they have to be careful not to hurt people when touching them, so it's generally more dangerous for whoever they're holding hands with than its worth.

14. is your character more likely to wear a necktie, a bowtie, or a bolo tie? (if any at all)

Again, no clothes. But I think Cephas would enjoy a good bolo tie.

15. have you ever said something as your character that stuck with you for a while after? what was it?

Oh lord. Uhhh... hm, well there was this one thing but it is very dependent on the context of the moment. Which is that they were talking with another character who was frustrated about not knowing things, and talking about how in order to be people you have to ask questions even if you don't get answers, you have to keep asking questions. And then they discovered something that was a step in a mystery they'd been trying to deal with and Cephas said "and sometimes you do get answers" and I don't know why but that one did stick with me.

16. what does getting flustered look like for your character?

Stuttering. Awkward hand movements. Maybe reverting to the old "I am but a simple construct with no consciousness" trick if they're really feeling out of sorts.

17. does your character have to glance at their hands to remember left and right?

Ha, no. Cephas knows what they're doing, unlike me.

18. does your character have stuffed animals? would they if they could? what kind?

Hm, no, xe doesn't. But I think they would if they ever settled down and stopped traveling. Even if Cephas can't really feel the softness, they would like it. And they'd be very careful with them too. As for the kind... I'm thinking those, like, huge round ones? Fuck there was a name for them. Squishables?? I think???

19. does your character walk or run down stairs?

Walk, typically. Running could damage things lol

20. if your character saw a turtle stuck on its back, would they flip it over?

Oh yes 100%. And also try and talk to the turtle and see if it needed any further assistance.

21. has your character ever climbed out of a window? would they do it again?

I don't have a moment in mind specifically, but there's no way Cephas hasn't, and they would absolutely do it again.

22. what’s your character’s ideal way to wake up? what usually wakes them up?

Cephas doesn't so much sleep as... go into Obedient Construct mode for four hours, which is to say they will obey any order given to them. Ideal way to wake up from that is in some weird/compromising position because it means his friends were messing with them and they love that. And they can't be woken up unnaturally, so its just that after Four Hours something in their head goes Ding and they're back.

23. what’s the pettiest thing your character’s ever done?

Dyed a nobleman's hair bright pink because he was kind of rude to them when they were pretending to be a normal construct.

24. what made your character the angriest they’ve ever been?

Cephas... doesn't really do anger, generally. But! There was a man who pretended to be a prophet of a god, and collected a small group of true believers. And then he took over a town, and made the townsfolk slaves. And that really got to Cephas, in a very personal way. (They did take care of the man and they still have mixed feelings about doing it.)

25. how does you character smile?

With great effort. Cephas wasn't built to emote, so any facial expressions are subtle and take a lot of concentration and effort to make happen. Over time they've gotten more practiced at this and can do it almost without thought, but it's still the smallest movements for a great amount of toil.

26. does your know the names of their constellations? how did they learn them?

I think, some of them? Cephas lived with her best friend's family for a long time and I think they would've learned some of them there. But then they also definitely made a game out of making up constellations and naming them whatever they wanted, so it's a toss up whether what they know is a real constellation or one they made up and then forgot they made up.

27. do/would your character draw or write on themself?

Oh yeah, for sure.

28. would your character race someone to the top of a tall tree for bragging rights?

Not for bragging rights, but absolutely yes Cephas would race someone. And they would lose because they are big and heavy and not made for climbing, but its more about the fun of it than the winning or the losing for them.

29. is there an artist whose style you associate with your character? (visual or otherwise; poets and musicians, etc. count)

Hmm... not really?? I don't really associate artists with my characters. My friend drew Cephas once, so I think that's the closest I'm gonna get to that. Maybe Delta Rae? I feel like Delta Rae has got those witchy vibes, and that makes me think Cephas.

30. how has your character’s first impressions of their party members changed since they met them? have they stayed the same?

Oh this is delightful because when Ceph first met the party, they were pretending to be a normal construct, so the DM was 'playing' them. Which meant I got to sit there and watch, and so I wrote down what Cephas was thinking. They only met the first three members of the party that day, but I literally have it written down that it was three "good first impressions" because one of them stole a book, another one turned invisible to draw a face on a trash can, and the third called Cephas 'interesting'. Overall impression? A group of messes who just went through something tough and are not dealing with it super well.

Current impression? A surprisingly competent group of messes who are working through some stuff, and very much don't like talking about their feelings. Also, I'm invested.

Seriously though it started out as Cephas thinking they seemed fun and wanting a distraction, and now Cephas is like actually really invested in all of them and their growth and wants to help them as much as they can.

#Cephas #dnd #this was. long. but also fun. #also anon u called cephas 'my beloved' and i was like Ah? did i send this ask to myself?? #maybe i did maybe i willed it into existence #anyways i love Cephas they're weird and beautiful and love their party and they have to leave soon and i am sad #Universe Answers

[ladygootgoot]

Do the next five prime numbers from my last ask for the Spotify thing when you get bored again.

okay so the prime numbers are  2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37, 41, 43, 47, 53, 59, 61, 67, 71, 73, 79, 83, 89, 97

I already did 2, 3, 5, 7, 11 and 13.

Love that I can just google the prime numbers.

17.  “Why you still talking 'bout me like we together?, I moved on for the better, You moved on to whoever”

Broken Clocks by SZA

19.  “Or would you love me more?, If you knew the person that I was, yeah yeah”

Love Me Less (feat. Quinn XCII) by MAX

23. “You the one, I wanna see you when I wake up”

Acid Dreams by MAX and Felly

29.  “I drive circles under street lights, Nothing seems to clear my mind, I can't forget”

Malibu Nights by LANY

31.  “She liked petty crimes, she had green eyes, like mountain dew, And where she go, I'll never know, Her friends bounced too”

Hell N Back by Bakar. I just really like the rhythm in this one. Plus I love the whistling.

37.  “Plans were drawn, and concrete poured, And nail by nail and board by board, Daddy gave life to mama's dream.” or “Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself.”

The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert. This song is only in the top bc it’s in my sleep playlist, but it is a great song that I recommend to everyone.

41.  “How do you know someone so well and then it changes?, All of a sudden you're strangers, Thinkin' back on us dancing, When you put your feet on top of mine on the living room floor, Well, tell me what was it for? Oh”

Remember by Liam Payne This is really the only song from Liam’s new album that I listened to more than once, but I love it. 

43.  “What if I had one more night for goodbye?, If you're not here to turn the lights off I can't sleep,These four walls and me”

These Four Walls by Little Mix. This song is also on my sleep playlist, but it is an underrated Little Mix song.

47. “I've got no money in my hands or my coat or my pocket, Wont get to space cos I haven't got a rocket” or “Yeah the boat may sink but I'm not gonna rock it, Cos the sea doesn't know my name” or “Not a lot to show but this book full of sonnets, And my liver may be fucked but my heart is honest”

Things That Stop You Dreaming by Passenger. Again, sleep playlist. It seems that every other song in this area is, and you decided to hit all of them.

53.  “I wanna be young and party”

Forever by FLETCHER

59.  “Now I'm a fat house cat, Cursing my sore blunt tongue”

Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron & Wine. LMAOOOOO this song is again on my sleep playlist. This is the only song so far that I am a little ashamed of.

61. “I'll never forget the news I got that morning, Wished that I could turn back but the plane was boarding”

Where Am I At by MAX

67.  “And if I have to choose, My heart or you, I'm gonna lose”

Hard Place by H.E.R.

I’m so shocked this song isn’t higher up in this playlist. The only reason I can think of is that I must have gotten into this song last year. I just know that this song was on repeat for awhile. I’ve introduced multiple people to this song.

71. “I want your number tattooed on my arm in ink, I swear”

 Nice To Meet Ya by Niall Horan

73.  “I'll be good all by myself, Yeah, I'll find a way to dance without you”

Break Up Song by Little Mix. This song is solely for the melody and the dance that they made for it.

 79.  “We'll hit the drive-thru, like Lil' Wayne, We ain't got no platinum chains, But hand-me-downs are all the rage (aye), So let me spend this pocket change”

Summer On You by PRETTYMUCH. This is teaching me i listen to a lot of artists that have their name in all caps.

 83. “Let's focus on communicatin'”

Location by Khalid

 89.  “Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga” and  “Lips are sweet as candy, It's taste stays on my mind” plus the chorus.

Hooked on a Feeling by  Björn Skifs, Blue Swede lol didn’t mean to add links, but i’m leaving them. this song is in multiple of my playlists, so it is a little surprising it’s not higher.

 97. “But everybody wants to put me down, They say I'm going crazy” or  “Got no feel, I got no rhythm, I just keep losing my beat” or  “One day (someday) I'm gonna be free, Lord! Find me somebody to love”

Somebody to Love by Queen

This has saved me so much boredom, so thank you.

[kinnaman-smorgasbord]

Esquire Singapore Dec 2019 - Joel Kinnaman Interview

OBSERVERVABLE ACTS

Editor-in-Chief: Norman Tan Photography: Michael Schwartz Stylist: Chloe Hartstein Groomer: Kristan Serafino Story: Wayne Cheong

Instead of a rooftop shoot that we had planned, we’re indoors at Dune Studios on Water Street. Outside, the weather is every writer’s dream: “It is an ash-streaked sky that portents a downpour.” “Like a warning, steel wool hangs overhead.” “A dishevelled blanket of grey that drifts languidly like detritus in a muddied pond.” A wet weather doth not a good shoot make.

When Joel Kinnaman arrives, the first thing you notice is how large he is. Bigger than life, broad-chested, he sometimes stands astride, like he’s about to break the spirit of a wild stallion. Then, there’s that presence; a sort of aura that’s quiet but still strong-arms you for your attention.

Just as the fashion shoot is about to start, Kinnaman asks if he could put on his own playlist for the shoot. He brings up his Spotify playlist, titled ‘For some of mankind’. ‘What Becomes of the Brokenhearted’ by Jimmy Ruffin plays.

“The playlists are just for fun,” Kinnaman tells me. “I’ve made a playlist for every project that I’ve been in.”

The project that this particular playlist was made for is For All Mankind, now playing on Apple TV+. It’s a show that puts forth the idea: what if America lost the space race to Russia?

Created and written by Ronald D Moore, the visionary behind the reimagined Battlestar Galactica and Outlander, For All Mankind stars Kinnaman as Edward Baldwin, a NASA astronaut who works alongside Buzz Aldrin (Chris Agos) and Neil Armstrong (Jeff Branson). Kinnaman’s character isn’t based on a particular historical figure, instead he is a composite or a representative of the ‘all-American’ astronauts of that era.

“I’m half-American and half-Swedish,” Kinnaman says. “I’ve lived in Sweden and America so, in a way, I’ve a split identity. My favourite part of the American spirit is not giving up. If they get knocked down, it is a national honour in getting back up and continuing the fight. In reality, when the US got to the moon, it concluded the space race. We didn’t get the continuation in space exploration that everyone was promised.”

Kinnaman is drawn to the science-fiction genre, fantasising of what could have been (though it can be said that the broad field of fiction can also put forward, ‘ what if’). Growing up, he watched the Star Wars movies, he loved the cyberpunk feel when he shot Altered Carbon. He is a fan of Blade Runner due to its dystopian future.

Do you think that sci-fi’s dystopian trope is becoming a reality? Kinnaman muses on that. “We’ve a president who is a national and international embarrassment. He’s immoral, a compulsive liar, a narcissist who doesn’t respect or appreciate democracy. I pray and hope that this nightmare would soon come to an end.

“But I believe we have the potential to overcome this. If we change paths and realign our focus in coming together as a human family, we can solve whatever problems that come our way together.”

This sentiment is echoed in For All Mankind, although the loss wasn’t the be-all and end-all for America. According to Moore, in losing the space race, America ends up the winner in the long run because of the continual effort into space exploration.

“Art can be a little lazy in pointing out the negatives. In many instances, the role that art and the artist play is showing us what’s wrong: that’s important but showcasing the positives is equally important. For All Mankind shows us how we should be operating if we are guided by our better angels.”

Physicist and theoretical biologist, Erwin Schrödinger, came up with a thought experiment. Imagine, if you will, a cat that’s sealed in a box. And inside that box is a device that might or might not kill the cat. Quantum theory states that quantum particles can exist in a superposition of states at the same time. Some even theorise that the quantum particles will collapse to a single state when it’s observed. When applied to Schrödinger’s cat, the feline is both dead and alive until you open the box.

Schrödinger came up with this thought experiment to explain that “misinterpreted simplification of quantum theory can lead to absurd results which don’t match real world quantum physics”. In the real world, it’s absurd that the cat is both dead and alive at the same time.

But one can also see this as an example of how the scientific theory works. Nobody really knows if a theory is right or wrong until it can be tested and proved. It’s like asking someone out on a date, you don’t know if that cute girl or guy will go out with you until you ask; the possibilities of rejection and acceptance remain in co-existence.

That is before you open the box.

Observe: Joel Kinnaman wouldn’t have existed if his father, Steve, had not defected from the US Army. An Indianapolis native, the elder Kinnaman was drafted and stationed in Bangkok, Thailand during the Vietnam War. While he was there, he started spending time with European backpackers, who have a different perspective of the war. A seed was planted. It finally blossomed when he attended a friend’s wedding in Laos. “It turned out that the woman’s family was half Laotian and half Vietnamese,” Kinnaman says. “It was an emotional moment for my dad. He asked himself if these were the people that he was going to kill.”

Still reeling from the love he had witnessed, the elder Kinnaman returned to his base. It was then that he was given the news that he was being reassigned to the battlefront in Vietnam.

In the history of war, the common punishment for desertion is death. According to the US Uniform Code of Military Justice, Article 85, it is meted out “by death of other such punishment as a court-martial may direct”. (Since the Civil War, only one American serviceman was executed for desertion: Private Eddie Slovik in 1945.)

Knowing the penalties for desertion, the elder Kinnaman made the decision that night to leave camp. He hitchhiked his way up into northern Thailand and into Laos. He burned his passport, changed his name and passed off as Canadian. For the next four years, he lived life among the Laotians doing odd jobs. Then, he found out that Sweden grants asylum to Vietnam deserters. Since moving to Sweden, President Jimmy Carter eventually issued an amnesty in 1977. The elder Kinnaman continues to reside in Sweden. After his first marriage ended, he was involved with Bitte, a therapist. This relationship yielded Joel.

“I’ve been working on the script about his life,” Kinnaman says. “The idea would be that I’d play my dad but I’m getting a little old.” It’s a story to be told, one about the dangers of blind patriotism; a tool that’s often exploited by governments. “We need to be critical individuals who should make up our own minds.”

Observe: Kinnaman had his first taste of acting when he was 10. He played Felix Lundström on Storstad, a soap opera that looks at the lives of the residents living in the fictional town of Malmtorget. Back then, Sweden had only two TV channels so even if it’s a secondary or even tertiary role on an ensemble piece, people will recognise you. “I didn’t understand it,” Kinnaman says. “There was something thrilling about being famous but there was something I didn’t like about it either.” His whole experience as a child actor was underwhelming.

In fact, taking a page from ‘history repeating itself ’, observe as Kinnaman could have been a soldier in the Swedish army.

“It was mandatory for the men to be conscripted for a year in the army and it was during my time when the rules for enlistment started to relax,” Kinnaman says. “If you didn’t want to enlist, all you have to do is purposely fail the proficiency tests.”

Alas, Kinnaman was so caught up in the competition that he aced it. His results showed potential to be a company leader. He was enlisted and assigned to an 18-month tour in the Arctic Circle but Kinnaman plum forgot about it. When he moved to Oslo, Norway, to be a bartender, he received a call from his mother, informing him that there was a government notice stating that he was supposed to enlist in three days.

He called the army to tell them that he was no longer in the country. “They said, this is a serious offence and I could get prison time for this. But if I were to write a letter to explain the situation, I could get out of this.” And then he forgot to write the letter. Kinnaman continued working odd jobs but he was always haunted by the thought that if he were ever to be arrested by the police for anything, they might discover his draft dodge from his records and he would be sent to prison.

“I ended up at this fight outside a night club and got taken in by the police.” Kinnaman says. Observe: Kinnaman could have ended up serving his sentence for draft dodging but nothing came of it.

Acting was calling out to him once more. His friend, Gustaf Skarsgård (famously known for his role as Floki in History Channel’s Vikings), was on track to becoming an actor and advised Kinnaman to apply for theatre school. After several applications, Kinnaman finally got into what he describes as “Sweden’s second-best acting school” and would go on to film two movies during his enrolment.

After graduation, he continued acting in Sweden before moving to America. He kept himself busy. He made an appearance in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo; starred as Governor Will Conway in House of Cards; made people notice with his portrayal as the homicide detective, Stephen Holder; scored the lead role in the Robocop remake; was cast as Rick Flag in Suicide Squad.

The one genre that Kinnaman can’t seem to appear in is comedy. Yes, he has a stern demeanour but the man is also funny. “Sometimes, Hollywood sees you in a certain way and it’s much easier to get cast for it. And the next is similar to that and so on. I haven’t made an effort to dissuade people’s opinion. The lighter side is probably more me.”

The closest he has gotten to doing comedy is the shooting of the Suicide Squad sequel. Helmed by James Gunn, Kinnaman said in another interview that it feels like he’s “shooting his first comedy”.

“I’ve been around tough people with issues before,” Kinnaman continues. “I’ve had some bad times so those kind of environments were natural to be in. It’s a survival mechanism too. A way for me to cope as I grew up. At the time, you’re figuring out about your identity. I felt insecure, powerless and didn’t know what to do in life.

“It was a period of my life that was pretty negative. But one of the beauties of acting is that those dark periods become a mother lode that you can mine from. Maybe I’ve drawn a little bit too much from it by playing too many tough guys.”

In May 2016, Kinnaman was one of the delegates and personalities from Denmark, Norway, Iceland, Finland and Sweden who was invited to one of President Obama’s final state dinners. Kinnaman, dressed in a sharp tuxedo, attended the dinner with his then-wife, Cleo Wattenström.

He overheard that the Obamas were fans of House of Cards and was looking forward to being introduced to them. At the reception, he and the other representatives stood in a row as President Obama made his way down the line, shaking hands and posing for a photo op. By Kinnaman’s admission, his mind wandered as he imagined what he’d say when President Obama came up to him. “Maybe I’d say, ‘Mr President’, and then he’ll say ‘Governor Conway’, and then we’ll laugh. And we’ll end it with a cool handshake.”

And all of a sudden, the president stood before him and Kinnaman muttered, “Mr President…” There was an awkward pause. Kinnaman would recount that it’s very possible that either the Obamas hadn’t watched the episode that he was in or if they did, his presence made zero impact. Before the silence could prolong, Kinnaman ended with, “thanks… for everything”. President Obama said something along the lines of, “Surely but surely, we cannot lose hope” and Kinnaman was ushered off.

He would retell this story when he introduced President Obama at Brilliant Minds, a conference of creative individuals who embody the forward-thinking spirit of Sweden, in June 2019. After the introduction, he returned backstage, where President Obama was waiting for his cue to go up. “He had this huge smile on his face and he said to me, ‘bring it in for a cool handshake.’ We hugged, we talked for about five minutes. He was super friendly. I’ll always remember that moment.”

Kinnaman isn’t shy about his politics. He voiced support for the #metoo movement; he had championed the environmental cause by one of his fellow Swedes, Greta Thunberg; he does not hide his disdain for the Trump administration.

“I think the last UN report stated that we have about eight years to turn back our carbon expenditure into the atmosphere,” Kinnaman says about where we’re heading as a species. “You don’t have to be a prophet to see that the world is heading towards the wrong direction. The oceans are heating up, the glaciers are melting. These natural disasters will be more frequent and that’s gonna lead to more tensions among countries.

“Politically, we’re moving towards a more nativist direction; people are pulling away from international cooperation. There’s the rise in disinformation campaigns, which will threaten democracy.”

But Kinnaman, ever the optimist, still believes in the human spirit, that we can innovate our way out of this quagmire.

Observe: Kinnaman, who was born with pectus excavatum, chose to correct the disorder instead of living with it.

Pectus excavatum is a chest-wall deformity that affects roughly one in 400. Instead of the breastbone being flush against the chest, it sinks in. Measured on a scale called the Haller index, anything above an index of 3.2 is considered severe. Kinnaman’s index was a seven or an eight.

“It’s something that’s survivable,” Kinnaman explains. “But it’s a condition that grows worse over time: your posture becomes worse; your stamina worsens as your heart is not given room to pump. By correcting it you can add years to your life.”

For a condition this severe, doctors had to insert two curved metal bars across his chest. Then the bars are turned to force the chest out and then the bars are wired to his ribs. The operation changed his life for the better. He doesn’t feel self-conscious whenever he removes his top. Six weeks after his surgery, he had to do reshoots for Suicide Squad. It was a fight sequence but Kinnaman sucked it up. “Would you like to feel it?” He asked.

He raised his arm like an invitation. I reached out and felt the spot, where the metal bars are, beneath the fabric and skin.

That’s an interesting party trick, I say. Kinnaman could only chuckle in response.

“It’s funny, if you ask me to say a line from a movie that I’ve been in before, I can’t. Not one line from any movie that I’ve done but I once did a monologue that was one hour and 30 minutes and I knew it by heart after 10 days.”

Kinnaman used to opine that as a Swedish American, growing up with dual cultures gives him a better perspective of the world but that also left him feeling like he doesn’t belong. He jumps from place to place, leading a nomadic existence.

“But I think,” he says as though he had stumbled upon some great truth a long time back, “I don’t wanna travel so much any more. Home. That’s where I’d like to be. I have two bases: one in Venice, LA and the other, an hour outside Stockholm.

“Growing up, my family didn’t have any money. We lived in this tiny little cottage that was in the middle of the woods. Now, I have this piece of land, where my family lives. This past midsummer was the first midsummer that we all spent together.

“That’s my new happy place.”

Joel Kinnaman looks like a man who has placed the final piece in that mystery of his life. He has stopped worrying about how he’s perceived by the public. He has exorcised people who have “struggled with jealousy, who don’t have a natural inclination towards generosity”. He has zero tolerance against bullshit. He likes how his career is shaping up—aside from Suicide Squad 2, For All Mankind is now filming a second season, and Kinnaman has three films coming out: The Informer; The Sound of Philadelphia and The Secrets We Keep; the last two, he avers, are his best work. “People who have watched me for a long time, it will remind them of my early career and for people who recently followed me, they will see a new side of me.

“I have goals that I’d like to achieve. Actor awards are such bullshit… until you get one. But yeah, that would be great. In future, I’d definitely want to be in a producing role and at some point, I’d like to also direct.

“I’ve said that I’d direct in five years time for about 10 years now.” That might change. His life is still a long and open road ahead.

Schrodinger’s cat posits two states that the creature can be in—dead or alive. But what if there’s a third option. That within the confines of the box, the cat is not there. It’s escaped. Unburdened from the stipulations of a thought experiment, free to do what it wants.

#photoshoot #magazine #joel kinnaman #esquire singapore #interview #we feed on scraps of new info #ive linked his Spotify playlist for people who missed it in march