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jiyeonnnn · 2 years

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LUX RUBRUM : HYUNG'S THIRST — N. JAEMIN

𓆩♡𓆪 IDOL: NA JAEMIN

𓆩♡𓆪 WARNINGS: STEPBROTHER JAEMIN, BOTTOM MALE READER, PERVERT JAEMIN, UNDERWEAR STEALING, HYUNG KINK, SCENT KINK, PRAISE & DEGRADATION, INTERCRURAL, CUM PLAY, CREAMPIE

𓆩♡𓆪 SENT BY: anonymous

𓆩♡𓆪 for the 1k event can i request a perv step brother jaemin where he always steals his brother's underwear to jack off to it then one day he got caught and things went steamy. jaemin is top btw (pls include dirty talk, degradation, praise, scent kink and cum play if you will) thank you so muchhh

𓆩♡𓆪 AUTHOR'S NOTE: reblogs are highly appreciated since it helps me with algorithm, thank you. also thank u to my bestie @jaeyong-sucker for helping me here <33

𓆩♡𓆪 LUX RUBRUM EVENT

Jaemin, your older stepbrother, has never tried to conceal his — strange — crush on you since the Na Family adopted you. Jaemin would constantly seek out and seize opportunities to stay close to you and be a "sweet older brother." He'd always take the seat next to you on road trips and rub your thighs because he's "bored" or has a "fidgeting habit." During movie nights, he'd pull you into his lap for "comfort" and grind you on his thighs while sniffing your neck. To say the least, he's obsessive, but you never paid mind to it assuming that it really was just his nature.

However, things did not end there. You've been in the Na household for 6 months when you noticed that your boxers and underwear are going missing before appearing out of nowhere, soaked and stained with cum. The mysterious events piqued your interest, prompting you to investigate what was going on, but you know what they say, curiosity kills a cat.

Walking your way towards Jaemin's room to ask for help, you heard your name being moaned loudly, the sound of the bed shaking as it bangs against the wall was very evident, even from the outside of the room. Your eyes shone curiosity as you take a peek inside, only for you to find Jaemin humping his pillows while his nose is buried deeply in one of your dirty underwear, throwing his head back as he moans your name louder.

A loud gasp erupted from your mouth as you watched the sinful scene in front of you, your cock slowly hardening upon hearing your name being moaned loudly. Jaemin turned his head towards the room before plastering a devilish smirk on his face. You stood frozen at your spot like a deer caught in the headlights, and before you could even move, Jaemin was already in front of you, grabbing your hand as he closed the door shut before pulling you to the bed.

Smirking, Jaemin picks you up as he sits you on his crotch area, his hard dick poking your clothed ass as you hear him release a morbid chuckle.

"Now, now, baby brother, you shouldn't peek at your hyung like that~ Look at you being hot and bothered by just seeing me hump my pillows. You deserve a punishment for it, my boy~" you could feel a stir inside your stomach upon hearing Jaemin's deep voice run through your ears, your cock twitching in arousal as you took a hard gulp.

A rush of heat flowed all over your body as you felt your desire for Jaemin right now intensifies. Although you wouldn't admit it out loud, you've always dreamed of doing something like this with Jaemin, you'd constantly touch yourself while having the thought of him inside your mind as you orgasm on your fingers, so without any word, you took all of your shame away before kissing your hyung roughly.

Jaemin unhesitatingly kissed back, his tongue immediately putting yours into submission as he pulled your head closer to deepen the kiss. He roamed his calloused hands inside your sweater, feeling your hot skin against his before playing with your nipples. The action caused you to moan in his mouth while sucking his chapped lips, making him bite on your tongue quite harshly. Your step brother went on to hold your waist before grinding you on his lap, holding his cock up in between your thighs to stimulate himself more.

Pulling away, a string of saliva connected both of your lips while looking at each other's eyes with ravenous lust. You took off your sweater before latching your lips on the crook of Jaemin's neck as you tighten your thighs — with his cock in between them — while grinding.

"Mmmh~ that's it, baby boy~ pleasure your hyung," Jaemin lowly moaned at the salacious action, also attaching his lips onto your neck as he sucked on it, leaving dark love marks that'd stay on your skin for at least weeks. Small, but deep moans, elicited from both of your mouths, completely loving the feeling of being over each other in such an erotic way. Jaemin obsessed himself with the feeling of your thighs grinding against his pulsating shaft and your wet, soft yet dirty kisses all over his pale neck, causing him to eagerly mark your skin more.

The harsh stimulation on your neck made you quicken your pace on grinding against him, moaning against his skin as you littered all over him like a canvas. The moans from Jaemin's mouth gradually got louder and louder as he felt his orgasm coming close. He held onto your waist firmly before humping you faster to chase his orgasm, and without a hitch, Jaemin cummed profusely on your bare stomach.

Not stopping there, Jaemin continued his lascivious advances by scraping his cum on your belly before taking it in his mouth and feeding it to you by passing it through a kiss. The tangy taste of his cum made you want more as you explored his wet cavern desperately before swallowing the load from his mouth.

He never expected his younger brother to be this filthy, but he's not complaining. Jaemin knew deep down that this is what he wanted from the start, to have you under his dominance as you go haywire from him fucking the hell out of you, perhaps that's why he developed a hobby of stealing your underwear and sniffing them as he played with his nasty toys or humped his pillows, and now that he has you on his hold, he'd make sure to take this opportunity to do you good that you'd come back to his cock again and again.

As you resumed sucking his neck, you couldn't help but be aroused by his musky scent filling your nose. There's no denying Jaemin is hot, and his scent made you crave having his cock inside you even more, so as you kissed his jawline down to his neck, you took deep sniffs every time your lips pressed against his supple skin.

"I didn't know you'd be such a fucking slut for me, baby boy~ look at you being a bitch for my sweat and scent," Jaemin chuckled at your neediness before gripping your hair tightly as he pulls your head away from his neck, making you whine in desperation. You looked at his gaze with glossy, yet hankering eyes, your hands travelling down to his cock as you started whimpering at the harsh grip that's burning your scalp.

"Hyungie~" you moaned, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

"What?" Jaemin coldly responded as he slapped your clothed thighs. You yelped at the sting from the spank, but despite the inflicted pain, you still longed for more.

"Please, touch me, hyung. I want you to fuck and breed me until you're satisfied."

Without any warning, Jaemin instantaneously rips off your shorts and underwear, his brute force turning you on even more, causing your cock to twitch uncontrollably. Jaemin smirked at your scalding figure as he yanked your ripped shorts away before sniffing your underwear again. It may be quite weird to see or look at, but Jaemin has grown addicted to the lacing musk and scent of your cock and balls to the fabric of your briefs, it makes him want to own and destroy you, and he's not, and will never be ashamed to show it.

"FUCK~ you're just so addicting, little prince~" he admitted before tracing his hands to your throbbing hole. You whimpered as you felt his cold fingers touch and circle your rim, your whole body twitching at the coldness and sensitivity.

"Your hole is gaping, baby boy~ Mind explaining to hyungie why is that, hm?" You heard Jaemin ask in a cold tone which sent shivers down your spine, and with a quivering voice, you stuttered, "I-I played with myself earlier using a dildo while thinking of you, hyung."

"How nasty. Really, bitch boy? You want me to ruin you rough and breed you until you feel bloated with all my cum inside you?" He asked again, but this time louder, a tone of deep growl lacing his voice as he spat on your face for an answer.

"YES! I WANT IT, HYUNG, PLEASE!" you answered helplessly, releasing small whimpers as desperate tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. To say that Jaemin was aroused at your complete submission was a complete understatement, he wanted to destroy you so bad — so bad that you’d lose your mind under his control.

Chuckling, Jaemin leaned back against the headboard as he smirked against you, holding his cock up while tapping his thighs, commanding, "Then ride this cock, bitch."

You followed his demand immediately, aligning his cock on the entrance of your hole before slowly sinking down. The stretch from his bulbous tip made you gasp breathlessly as you struggled to adjust to his size. Jaemin started kissing your neck and shoulders to help you ease down the burning stretch, his hands holding your waist as you moved yourself down deeper and deeper. Still feeling the distress, your stepbrother pulled you into a passionate kiss while guiding your hips down, and at the moment you took him fully, he peppered your face with kisses.

"Such a good boy for taking my cock so , hm~ You'll only take my dick, yeah, my boy?" He deeply questioned to which you responded with an eager nod, moaning out loud.

"y-yes, hyungie—! fuck— you're so big—"

"That's my boy~ Now, now, start bouncing yeah?"

His voice sounded mellow to your ears that made you obediently comply with him. Starting to move, you held onto his broad shoulders to assist yourself on bouncing. Fat stream of tears starts to flow down your cheeks as the tantalizing yet agonizing sensation of the stretch from his cock runs through your nerves. The feeling felt good yet rhapsodic, the cock of your stepbrother never faltering to run on every nerve and crevice inside your hole that had sent you grousing as you rode him.

Jaemin licked the tears from your cheeks before pressing a kiss on your — swollen — lips once again, "You're doing great, darling, you're doing great~" he praised as he felt his shaft pulsate inside your walls. You started melting at his sweet words, causing you to bounce faster to show your eagerness for him. His huge length was enough to send you to the clouds as your hole began to clench and unclench its tight walls around Jaemin, causing him to slap your ass while moaning in fervent delectation that your hole is providing him. The pleasure he was giving you was also no different, the raptures of bliss flowing through your body has sent you crying as you throw your head back, sending Jaemin to wrap his hand around your littered neck.

Crying under his mercy, Jaemin's hold on your neck tightens upon seeing your messy state, delighted to see you completely fold in his authority. "That's right~ cry for me, bitch. Show hyungie how much of a slut you are to him and his cock," Jaemin whispered to your ear before nibbling it quite aggressively, making you yelp as a result of his actions.

Your hands wandered upon his body, arching your back while you continued to scratch Jaemin's bare skin due to the immense pleasure. A series of incoherent moans and responses spewed out of your mouth as your hyung began moving upwards relentlessly, hitting your prostate nonstop, driving you closer and closer to your high.

Still not satisfied, Jaemin flipped your position with you under him. He began to unforgivingly propel his hips against yours as he put your legs on his shoulders. You remain a moaning mess under his dominance as you grip the fabric under you tightly, your mouth hanging open as drool flows out from it.

Jaemin's ego starts to fly up to the skies upon seeing you become a slutty mess, the enraptured overjoy painted on your face boosted his pride of being able to make you feel better than some of the hookups you brought home. The image of you writhing uncontrollably under him has sent him to quicken his pace, grunting deeply as he busied himself on ramming you rough that bulges form on your belly.

"Take that fucking cock, my bitch. This is what you wanted right?!" He snarled loudly, slapping your thighs as you moaned incoherently as a response.

Jaemin noticed the amount of precum profusely leaking from the tip of your cock, noting the near of your orgasm. He started to jerk your cock off fastly, causing you to squirm more at the rush of heat gushing from your cock to all the parts of your body, and after one last pump, a wave of euphoria took all over your nerves as ropes of cum started spurting out of your cock, spilling your load everywhere including your chest and face.

Taking this chance to play with you again, he scraped off all the cum on your face and chest with his fingers before feeding it to you by fingering your mouth, and as hungry as you were, you sucked nastily on his digits, tasting the bitter-sweet taste of your own seeds.

The thrusts of Jaemin began to obviously falter, his pace speeding and slowing down alternately as he felt a familiar churn inside his stomach. His moans became prominently louder as the flow of convulsing climax started to form. Curses and grunts from the two of you echoed throughout the room as you swam in the deep waters of delightful ecstasy. Not long after, Jaemin moaned louder while he frantically slammed his hips against yours as he started spilling his cum inside you.

Jaemin released so much cum in your ass that your stomach started to feel inflated. You could feel his seeds flow and spurt inside you as you squealed from how full you were feeling right now.

Leaning down, Jaemin kissed you passionately, your tongues intertwining with each other as they danced in ecstasy. Your saliva mixed as you sucked on Jaemin's lips hungrily within the kiss. As you pulled away, Jaemin kissed your sweaty forehead, roaming his hands around your disheveled body as he looked directly at your glistening orbs before pulling you into a hug.

Exhaustion took over your body as your figure fall weak inside his embrace.

"Take rest, my boy. Let hyungie take good care of you, yeah?" He assured you before placing another kiss on your forehead. A weak nod came as your response, making him smile at you.

'You're finally mine now, baby boy~'

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mrs-monaghan · 1 year

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I ain't gonna lie. JK kinda being a bit of a shit stirrer today. Why is he posting pictures adding up to 13 like he's baiting Jimin, but posting the food in the same set of dishes that Tae owns? Tae already showed that dish set in his story not long ago. Kinda like that day JK said Jimin was his, but turned around and said Tae was his. JM's in NY minding his business, while JK's kinda being messy. Well, at least both sets of shippers are happy & fighting at the same time over who JK is really posting for.

Anon, come closer. Let me show you something.

Remember this?

Okay. Wonderful then I'm sure you remember that atrocity they did of photoshoping V on Jimin's face. See if u can find it among all these times where they replaced Jimin with V.

These assholes didn't even try 🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️ That's one of the most iconic Jikook moments of all time. If you're gonna try to copy at least put in some effort 🙄🙄

That's one.

2) Remember when Jimin said the best part that represented him was the timestamp 1:23 on the One Day MV?

Remember how JK started recommending songs to army and pausing the songs at 1:23? He did this continuously without fail. (Manilla fight)

Even when sometimes the part made no sense. More on this here.

When Jikookers started celebrating this guess what the vermin did? They took the 123 theory and decided to relate that to Vkook. Even though they never would have done that shit, if Jikookers didn't point it out. According to them, 123 was about Tkk because V was born on 12th December 🤦🏽‍♀️

Shouldn't it have been 1230 then?? Why did they get rid of the 0? For convenience as always. 🙄🙄 Well, joke's on them, because JK stopped doing this. This is one of the earliest moments of JK debunking Tkkrs.

3) When Jkkrs noticed the JM and started talking about it.

The vermin said the tiger was about them. Because V's animal is a tiger.

Fuck the fact that the tiger and Korean culture go hand in hand. But guess what JK did when he met Poly C? He👏🏾covered👏🏾that👏🏾shit👏🏾up! Sure the man and the rest of BTS hated how the SK government were treating them. Sure he hates how he can't even show the world who he's in love with due to his homophobic country, so he decided the Tiger didn't mean that much to him after all. But I bet he saw a chance to kill 2 birds with one stone and he did. Fuck SK and fuck Tkkrs. Boom! Done.

4) When Karmy nick named Jikook the Sun and Moon duo because satellite Jeon is always orbiting Jimin like the moon orbits the sun, The vermin also started calling Tkk the Sun and Moon duo. Their reason? Don't ask me. Idk and idc. Too bad though, coz even BH knows who are the REAL Sun and Moon duo

5) While we are on the "mine" topic. Karmy already explained the difference between JK saying Jimin is his Vs when he said (warning RIP your algorithm if you click on this) V is his. According to Karmy, with V it came off more like a statement. With Jimin it was possessive, AF. And I agree. Not just because I'm a Jikooker, but because you don't need to be Korean to hear the difference.

For context: An army asked JK to give Jimin to them and JK was like; he's mine. But here is what u have to keep in mind. The V one came way, way, waaaaaay later than the Jimin one. As soon as he said Jimin was his, the vermin kept pestering JK with the same thing the former Army asked about Jimin. So going by JK's tone, it seems to me like he said what he said about V, to shut them up. 🤷🏽‍♀️ The difference is in the tone, guys. U don't gotta be Korean to hear it.

These are just a few examples. And now you're telling me, even though our numbers theory makes more sense, Tkkrs are claiming what JK is doing on weverse for themselves because of a plate?? A plate? Really.

This is just like when they decided Tkk went snowboarding because of a pair of shoes. Like no one else owns those shoes apart from JK and V 🤡 Again, someone please explain to me how people take them seriously. Please. They want what we have soooooo bad. They have always wanted what we have.

Jin can grab V's balls or whatever tf this was. Taejin what goes on??? 🧐🧐

And the vermin did not bat an eye. Not one fucking peep from them. But in the same memories 2021, Jimin gets embarrassed and does the simple act of hiding his face in JK's neck (something he has done for years BTW)

And ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE!!!

You cannot tell me these people don't know Jikook is real. If they didn't see what we see they wouldn't want what we have so bad. And they certainly wouldn't feel so damn threatened.

So anon, JK owning the same plate as V, cannot even be compared to JK making a post on Jimin time. It ain't and will never be the fucking same. Please.

#bts ask #ask shaz #the vermin #jikook is real #jikook #kookmin #jimin and Jungkook #bts #jimin #jungkook #jikook theories #park jimin #jeon jungkook #minkook #Taekook is not real #jimin and jungkook #the shade

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brambleghastblast · 22 days

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i think a depressing truth of the internet ill always hate is that negativity is what leads to success

negativity, in forms of content creation, leads to comments of people arguing or saying "but i like that thing". comments lead to the algorithms of social media boosting said piece of comic. algorithm favoring your stuff leads to more views. views get you money

often times, i think most youtubers and tiktokers and people on twitter and whatnot actually force themselves to be negative out of necessity. because its the quickest and easiest way to get a post out there. and its really become a norm in social media thats made the internet suffocatingly bad lately

like.. take pokemon for example, youtubers and tiktokers and twitter users such talking about pokemon will complain to no end about graphics, taking the worst possible screenshots they can get or setting up elaborate glitches so they can take a picture, put it next to another game with the prettiest picture they can get, and then go "WOW CAN U BELIEVE GAMEFREAK MAKES STUFF LIKE THIS" which then starts arguments and spreads like a wildfire because people are pointing out "wow you really took the worst picture you could huh" but then random people desperate to argue go "UHHH GAMEFREAKS NOT GONNA MARRY U DUDE LOL" blah blah blah

or take some specific youtubers for instance, like videogamedunkey is a critic who usually lies about video games he dislikes, makes up stuff or complains about really little stuff, or tries to get glitches to happen to pretend the whole games like that. a reallyyy scummy youtuber but thats literally what he has to do to make money and that sucks! or like... alpharad whos kind of just an obnoxious jerk all the time and thats how he gets his attention because being a jerk gets you comments and comments get you views etc etc

the youtube channel gamexplain got exposed for not paying employees and fell off HARD.. but they made a full recovery and comeback. they used to post informative nintendo and other games news, but lately theyve just been posting negative memes or complaining about really little things or posting negative news with a clickbait title. like.. nintendos doing some reconstruction at their headquarters. so gamexplain posts this

its... just reconstruction. but the big letters, the sad mario, it looks Worrying and causes clicks and comments. its literally just reconstruction. but oh wow with a thumbnail like this they can fearmonger and milk it

it stinks too because generally positive youtubers are... Rare. most positive youtubers fall really hard and barely get any views compared to the big bad youtubers out there, cause theres not a ton to comment on without negativity. and thats so.. sad. (bumping a youtuber i love a lot here; nekolacey is a really great and positive pokemon youtuber and i love her videos!!! but her videos dont really get a lot of views compared to other channels which i find so sad. shes awesome!!)

i think the only generally positive gaming youtuber i know of who actually had a big following was chuggaaconroy, and he was making videos on youtube for MANY MANYYY years to even just get 1 million subscribers.

and then he got cancelled because of... uh... a chatlog from 2009. and... uh...... some out of context discord messages from some youtuber whos been known to falsely accuse autistic people to get allegations on them. and.... apparently some randos named antdude and missfushigaming made up allegations to get some clout but they got proved false... uhh... and also chuggaaconroy went to therapy, apologized a ton, asked everyone to please not harass the accusers, and has been deeply working for years to work on himself because he did have a geniune falling out with masaeanela over him not following set boundaries.

but.... yeahhhh its. uh. when you point out "wow did anything bad happen beyond a falling out with masaeanela" you're kind of just quickly hushed by a bunch of random people and to accept it and quit. they can't afford for that positivity to change the way things are, they need negativity to thrive.

its.. the internet trying its hardest to push down one positive creator who made it so they can hype up a dozen negative ones.

i think the internet has always awarded negativity but it was never really bad. like.. many youtubers back in the day would make top 10s, listing something like "zelda bosses" or "gen 4 pokemon". these were great because they got to gush about something they like, BUT they'd get comments and arguments because of things like "well i would've put ths boss over that boss" or "why isnt crobat on this list!". it worked great because they got clout from comments, but they weren't being actively negative

or, talking about an internet show i LOVE, death battle! this is a fun show where they take two fictional characters and make them fight! and they research to see who wins and have really great animation!

it thrived because not only is it super good, but it causes arguments. most viewers dont care about the real reasoning and numbers, they just want their prefered character to win. so if there preference loses, even if its right, they will get mad and argue, causing comments which cause views which causes success.

unfortunately, the positive ways to get comments just... hardly last. its sad but in the modern internet, being mad and angry is literally how you succeed. its near impossible to make it online if you arent angry or doing stuff to upset people.

it sucks. so much.

and it sucks even more because people trying to make a living on the internet Have to be negative. thats how they make a living. they literally have to complain to make money and survive and it sucks!! so much!!!!!!!!!

i think overall success on the internet always depended on causing arguments and negativity, but its really become suffocating in recent time. everyone tries so hard to be mad they've geniunely become mad. positivity is rare and out of style, negativity is what everyone wants. its.... so....... miserable honestly

#youtube #youtube channel #twitter #tiktok #pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #gamexplain #nintendo #chuggaaconroy #therunawayguys #death battle

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moviebloggg · 2 months

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What I noticed TSN rewatch🤪

Eduardo coming to Marks dorm looking concerned at TWO AM. “You and Erica split up” Why r u checking his blog at 2:08 am… - 12:33 and his CONCERN the whole time “it’s on ur blog :(, Are you alright :(, I’m here for you” like damn

Dustin’s adorable wave to Wardo :((( - 12:34 and DUSTIN LAUGHING AT THE “i’m here for you. no i need the algorithm” LMAOO - 12:43

Wardo waiting for him after the face mash meeting :( sitting down, headphones in, clearly been there for a while - 20:32

EDUARDOS DADDY ISSUESSSSS. “You have no idea what that’s gonna mean to my father” - 37:04 AND THEN MARK SAYING “Sure I do” LIKE HE KNOWS AND CARES TOO. Also, “My father won’t even look at me. (1:40:03) and there’s one more time i know he mentions it i just don’t know where😭

“have you slept yet?” (36:06) even after mark made him wait and in that tone like aw

BRO THE FREAKING BEER THING. stop aaron sorkin david fincher you fucking menaces how dare you put that there. (46:58)

Eduardo’s “oh my god…” at 51:29 when he realizes that they are in the stall next to them

THE LOOK AT 52:09. OMG KILL ME RN.

Eduardo’s sad and painful look at Mark after Sy brings up animal cruelty, like ‘really, you went that low?’ - 1:12:39

Marks tap on Sys shoulder saying ‘stop no don’t go there’ - 1:12:42

The parallel of how happy and jokey Mark is when in the dorm during the chicken scene with Wardo being put side by die with how hostile they are and how sad he looks in the deposition scenes. he never once smiles.

Marks sad look at Eduardo after being exposed - 1:14:39

Eduardo’s disbelief at Mark going so low as the chicken thing 1:14:41

Mark opening his mouth to protest against 1:14:43

the pain in Eduardo’s eyes after Mark makes a half joke that probably would used to make him laugh. also the look of betrayal and the eyes that say I don’t even know you anymore. 1:18:17

The disconnect between Mark and Sean. “Ever think about that girl?” “No???” 1:23:52

How so genuinely happy Mark looks when greeting Eduardo in Cali. The little grin. The surprising him. The wack on the arm. the ‘Wardo’. - 1:30:50

“I want- i-i want- I need you.” aaron. sorkin. what. the. fuck.

“I didn’t know whether to dress for the party or the business meeting, so i kinda dressed for both.” (1:41:51) Um aaron you did not have to go so deep with that one my god do you ever think of our feelings.

The piano coming in at 1:43:46 after the reveal is just so heartbreaking.

The PAINNNNN in his voice at “You set me up 😕” (1:43:51)

Throughout the whole confrontation scene, Mark looks like he’s going to cry. so so badly. especially at 1:44:50 like PAIN. And 1:45:27, “Yeah” - 1:45:50, and the REPEATING “You didn’t have to be that rough on him.” (1:46:00).

When he hit 1,000,000 people on HIS OWN WEBSITE he looks downright depressed. not happy in the slightest. he just hit this amazing milestone. should be like the happiest moment of his life. yet he looks like he wants to cry. I wonder why. 1:47:10-1:47:20

Marks outfit during the deposition w the Winklevi being a collared shit and sweater, outfit during the first deposition with Eduardo being a half zip up, and then wearing a FULL SUIT for the second one?? okay then

You don’t really realize it but I think it’s fitting that the last we see of Eduardo the whole movie is the confrontation. Like chronologically, he’s in it for way after, but with the actual editing and all the time skips, his last line is “Makes me look so tough” and thats the last we see him. pretty cool.

through the whole movie just THEIR FACIAL EXPRESSIONS DURING THE DEPOSITION. the SADNESS and REGRET constantly portrayed in mark. the PAIN AND BETRAYAL constant in Eduardo.

THE MOTHER FUCKING NORTH FACE ZIP-UP. WHAT THE HELL DAVID FINCHER. yeah this was genuinely insane tho. like that was unhinged. aaron sorkin, david fincher, AND WHOEVER THE BLESSED COSTUME DEISGNER WAS, reached new levels. we could’ve chalked everything up to gay people always looking for gay people in film, for exaggerating things that were only slightly there because of the need for more representation. but the north face zip up?? come on. I need to get me one of those now. the timeline makes so perfect sense too. We see Eduardo first wearing it when chilling in his dorm - 31:25. Then we next see him in it when at the intern “interviews” - 1:16:20. Then we don’t see if again for a little while, until MARK wears it during the business meeting - 1:33:52. This happens AFTER Eduardo visits Pao Alto. So he goes to Cali, presumably leaves the zip-up, (maybe even gives it??) and then ever since then Mark wears it in almost EVERY SINGLE scene. Because he misses Wardo. ITS INSANE. Like, the business meeting, then the phone call to Wardo. - 1:36:25. Then he wears it during the whole conformation, and is still wearing it later that night when Sean calls him. Like wow. That right there? Insanity. Purely CANONICAL gay insanity

and finally just some more character noticings. I really just love Divya omg. and the winklevii. like they r just so comedic at times. the first time i watched i viewed ty and cam as like one entity, but this time i really payed attention and like they r so different. cam usually takes the lead and he is very level minded and calm, while tyler is very hotheaded.

The first time andrew garfield just captivated me. i mean duh, he’s andrew garfield. but this time i just, wow. JESSE. he was perfect. PERFECT. best actor should’ve been his hands down. every single word he said was so calculated and made so much sense for his character like. and the real best part of his acting was his reactions, to everything that everyone else said. like he knocked it out of the park completely.

#the social network #tsn #markwardo

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madfantasy · 5 months

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Dears;

Sleepless

I didn't know that I could be more sleep deprived, more in the sense that the nightmares of death and murder wakes me up in fever and chest burn now.

I thought I was okay and I was just witnessing and grieving over everything happening in this world, I can't much speak on it but with my siblings, my guardians ofc know and part of our family even affected by the "wars" that raged in and around 🍉, I still feel just as suffocated, useless, helpless and isolated as I feel everyday if not more. The internet remains my only window to the world..

The only thing I could able to talk to my guardians about is that telling them I feel immense guilt, my other half, my other home is being wiped out, land stripped of human warmth, from recent and ancient memories, all the structures old and new, the nature that hugged it tightly and the music that floated from it's midst. And here I am carrying nothing but a blood connection and writing in immaculate Arabic, one thing I was consistently praised on and ment alot to me in terms of belonging, but literally can't understand the casual/slang part of it no matter how I think I get it. Which I understand finally is what called: a late diagnosis of autism, possible related to those specific speaking patterns.

I'm 80% nonverbal, and when I find my voice, specifically when it comes to expressing myself, everything I say sounds like riddles or poems instead of plain direct speech with clear indication and values. I take so long revising these little writings to make sure at least they are coherent. It's often frustrating as suddenly not being able to scream when u need..

In the same time, I can't deal with being perceived, I can not even interact with what I've shared on my TT or @madmanii because my brain just shuts down, it doesn't matter what's the situation, as long there's social interactions, my rational blanks and stops translating sense to me.. it might be so good I can't even say how much intensely I love it, same as bad.. Even through art, and I thought because it is in art form, something I feel more able expressing, I can't say more or do more or give more engagement than this. While engagement with my art shocks me each time as if It was the first time. It takes all my remaining soul to make this art, this last tether to my sanity and humanity, so I have unmeasured gratitude..

The only release to this raging sense of belonging and grief I had all my life is to make stories, OCs. Those two are just fantasy-ed version of the 2 homes I'm from. But never shared more drawings of them because I did not want to be identified and get any "anything-against-mainstream" phobia towards me as I've been punished for it severely lots in real life. They are even not a romantic pair, just bromancing and 'too' beautiful, and I still drew many other romantic ships and posts them, regardless..

But I worry too much and often my art, posts or whatever is never seen..

Whatever it's the algorithm or doing communication, I can't not do more of what is socially 'required' to be seen and heard, my art is all I can offer and as it always shows me it's never enough, I tried so hard that my art for the first time in my life became just another burden and chore instead of a sanctuary and brain food. Whatever I did, I don't have a presence online, I only have the few Snape fans who truly care about me and showed me humanity I've never known. But I still don't have numbers or popularity, and at this point I'm so burn out from trying that I don't care I'm losing followers or have no likes, it's silence on both ends now...

I wish I could achieve more and be more helpful and not worry about fearing anything, my existence here online is done by secret to begin with and not consistent cuz I have trash net, and I don't know how to do more.. even for myself..

It's my birthday month, and that's ticks down one year of six..

About perception I relate to Hard: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNQeJy8u/

Thank u for reading, Sweet dreams, precious 🖤❤️

#text #drawing journey #vent

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yeongwonie · 2 years

Text

STUPID CUPID! — 50

SYNOPSIS. alone on valentine’s day, you decide to sign up for the student council’s fundraiser: a matchmaking survey, hoping to at least get a few laughs out of the whole ordeal. little do you know, park sunghoon (your archenemy since junior high) has the same idea. but it’s fine! your student body president, kim sunoo, would never tamper with the matching system, right?

note. last chapter! i’m so grateful for all of the love and support u’ve all given me on this smau truly, it’s been an amazing experience writing it and because of it i’ve gotten to meet so many amazing people as well ^^ like i said ystd i’ll be posting the mlist for my next smau tmrw (it’s for jake wink wonk) so i hope you enjoy that as well! thank you for reading as always and i love you <3

+ please rb if u want to!! it rlly helps w/tumblr’s algorithm :))

masterlist

⤎ prev | 50 — stupid cupid! (written; 1.1k)

YOUR FOOT TAPS ABSENTLY AGAINST the tile flooring of the restaurant. looking out of the window and across the small intersection, you can see the side of a humble, slightly worn-down building: your old middle school. in the early morning, it’s nice to reminisce on the years you’d spent in that very building alongside sunoo and sunghoon.

a sigh escapes your lips as you read every single item on the menu for the fourth time, then pull out your phone. you hadn’t expected them to be early, but you’d been sitting in the booth and waiting for over ten minutes. a typed out expression of your frustration sits above your keyboard, and your fingers hover over the send button as you hear the little ding of the bell placed above the restaurant’s door.

��what took you so long?” you scold as sunoo and sunghoon, both clad in coats with the collars standing straight up, approach your table.

“sorry,” sunghoon says, sliding into the booth next to you. sunoo takes the seat directly across from you.

“someone made us go back because he forgot something. twice,” sunoo grumbles, then winces lightly in pain as sunghoon presumably kicks him in the shin under the table.

“no worries.” you sit up straighter in your seat, looking first at sunghoon, then at sunoo. interlacing your fingers and resting your chin on your hands, you smile. “so.”

sunoo frowns at you. “so?”

“so, we’re finally back here together. this feels special somehow.”

next to you, sunghoon’s looking past your head and out of the same window you’d been staring at earlier, eyes tracing over the roof of the school, the courtyard, and the front gates. you follow his gaze and, if you squint hard enough, you think you’d be able to see into the classrooms, probably still identical to how they’d been years ago when the three of you were attending.

inside those classrooms, you’d met sunoo, who was so bright and cheerful even as a preteen, and sunghoon, who’d stolen your favorite eraser and was so quiet sometimes it stressed you out. you weren’t able to pinpoint the exact moment they’d shifted from classmates in your mind to your best friends. the thought made tears prick the back of your eyes.

“it is special,” sunghoon affirms, refocusing on you. sunoo nods, and looks up from his menu.

“okay, hurry and decide what you want to eat,” you say, trying to take an authoritative tone although it comes out slightly rushed with how close you were to tearing up. “we don’t have that long before first period.”

sunghoon, sunoo, and you spend the better part of the next half hour sitting in the booth, happily eating your breakfast. it makes you happy, being able to be with them both like this. once the check is taken care of (sunghoon insists on paying, talking about some agreement he had with sunoo as he grabs your hand to keep you from slipping your card into the clipboard [though, he doesn’t release it once you relent]), you stand up and stretch.

“you’re welcome,” sunoo grins at you while he pulls on the sleeves of his coat.

“for what? sunghoon paid,” you furrow your brows at him.

“i’m basically the reason you two are on speaking terms again.”

“definitely not, it was kind of a stupid idea,” you laugh.

“you’re also kind of the reason we didn’t speak for like a week,” sunghoon adds. you begin walking to the door of the restaurant, bowing slightly to the staff standing behind the counter, then exiting.

“no way, that was all you two,” sunoo glares at the two of you once you’re outside standing on the sidewalk. he eyes sunghoon carefully, trying to tell him something with the raising of his brows, but sighs when sunghoon only tilts his head in confusion. “i’m gonna head to class early, student council things. see you guys later.”

sunoo walks away briskly, waving over his shoulder and leaving you and sunghoon standing by the entrance.

“we still have,” you check your phone, “15 minutes. what do you want to do?”

“i have something for you, actually,” sunghoon says as he gingerly releases your hand and reaches into the inner pocket of his coat.

“what? why?”

“it’s white day, right? i brought you chocolates,” he smiles tenderly.

“but i didn’t get you anything for valentine’s day,” you pout.

“you got me a few days of pity from my friends,” he says. “sunoo didn’t make fun of me for a whole 48 hours, he felt so bad.”

you open your mouth to say something, but he pushes the package into your hands. you carefully accept the heart-shaped box, then peel off the bright orange sticky note stuck to its surface.

“for my soulmate,” you read out, ears growing warm despite the morning chill.

“that’s you.”

“thank you, sunghoon.”

“of course.”

you hug the box to your chest and feel something in the pit of your stomach flutter at the thought. you’re holding a white day gift from park sunghoon, your best friend turned enemy turned friend turned…

“does this mean i can finally change your contact name from future girlfriend to girlfriend?”

“that’s probably the lamest way you could’ve asked me to be your girlfriend,” you chuckle, lacing your fingers with his once more. “but yes.”

he pulls you into another kiss and you can feel his smile pressed softly against your own.

“good,” he whispers. “i’m glad.”

you pull a little closer by his hand, then slip both of your hands into one pocket of your coat. tilting your head just a bit so it can rest lightly against his shoulder, you begin the walk back to campus.

in a way, you feel proud, both of yourself and of sunghoon. despite everything you’ve done to each other, every cruel thing you’ve said, you’d still managed to end up here, hand in hand, hearts fluttering in sync. you look behind you, and the outline of your junior high grows blurry with the distance.

“can we skip first period?” sunghoon asks quietly, squeezing your hands and shooting you a pleading look that breaks you out of your thoughts.

“i don’t think your record can handle another detention,” you answer, shaking your head.

“but it would be worth it.”

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greenhappyseed · 1 month

Text

Hi, okay, I have to weigh in on this vote to ban TikTok happening in the U.S., because I’m seeing misinformation on Twitter. Here’s the deal: TikTok is owned by a Chinese company, and TikTok sends your personal data to China. Why is that a problem? Well, private companies in China aren’t exactly “private” in the way Americans think of them. It’s very easy for the Chinese government to influence Chinese companies…including ordering the company to change its algorithms (…and yes, access any personal data). If, say, China wanted to spread misinformation, sow chaos in the U.S., and disrupt the 2024 U.S. presidential election the way Russia did via Facebook in 2016, the Chinese government has the personal data AND control of the platform to do it. The PLATFORM is actually more important than the personal data. China doesn’t need to exploit Facebook when they’ve got TikTok. The only way to reduce the risk to zero is to ban TikTok in the U.S. https://www.wsj.com/tech/tiktok-pledged-to-protect-u-s-data-1-5-billion-later-its-still-struggling-cbccf203 (WSJ has its paywall BS, but the same point is made elsewhere across the internet). This idea has been kicking about in the U.S. for several years, and I can find articles going back to 2021-22 expressing the same concern. But of course, it’s coming to a head now that it’s actually 2024 and we’ve got another fucking election involving Trump.

Do not be deceived: The TikTok ban has little to do with personal data and absolutely NOTHING to do with Palestine. It is NOT a move to “hide the truth” about Palestine from you, as the ban idea predates October 2023. You can still use Twitter, Discord, Instagram, YouTube, BlueSky, etc. (or just look up your preferred news sources online). Also, any law designed for the purpose of stopping information on a particular topic would violate the First Amendment and the law would be overturned by a court.

Is this ban hypocritical of the U.S.? Yes, a bit. This is similar to what the EU says about personal data transfers from the EU to the U.S. To oversimplify, the EU alleges that EU citizen personal data isn’t safe in the U.S. not just because of corporate greed, but also because the U.S. government can subpoena that data under normal U.S. legal processes. It’s fair to criticize the U.S. for this. Then again, I don’t think there have ever been allegations that the U.S. government has tried to disrupt a European government or election the way Russia did in the U.S. in 2016. Also, to be snarky, the governmental bodies in the EU haven’t figured out how to use Microsoft Office without violating their own privacy laws. Like they can’t successfully apply their own laws to themselves. Last week this case was, I think, the third or fourth case the EU has brought against itself for GDPR violations. https://www.edps.europa.eu/system/files/2024-03/EDPS-2024-05-European-Commission_s-use-of-M365-infringes-data-protection-rules-for-EU-institutions-and-bodies_EN.pdf As a result, the EU comparison sounds similar at first, but doesn’t really materialize into a strong parallel to the national security concerns that U.S. legislators have about TikTok.

Look, the ban is clearly a protectionist move, and yeah we can debate it for all kinds of reasons, but don’t fall into the trap of thinking the ban is meant to stop TikTok from having “the truth” that the government or “mainstream media” is “hiding” from you. That’s some paranoid Fox News bullshit logic, and being young and leftist doesn’t make you immune to it. PLEASE read about what happened with Russia and Facebook in 2016 so you’re not repeating the same mistakes.

#tiktok ban #is not about palestine #avoid conspiracy theories kids!#the more you know #election misinformation #2024 presidential election #tiktok #u.s. politics #another legal post #former lawyer

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intriq · 8 months

Text

Midnight

warnings: mentions blood, death, little bit of fighting, depression, mentions of guns/getting shot, etc etc NO USE OF Y/N

Part 2 of Little Moon

Part 1, part 2, part 3

Word Count: 5.7k words

Authors discussion n shizzle:

Hi y’all sorry this took so long to do. But it’s here and I’m happy and it’s long as FUCK.

Like it’s twice as long as part 1, and it’s so bad everyone voted I break this up into a 3rd part so like, yea

I’m publishing this while the 2 yr old I’m babysitting is down fr his nap so like woooo

I’d like to thank my beta readers n co owners of Little Moon for reading this shit (I’m sorry if u cried): my bestie aka @deaths-favorite-star , terra, Apollo (Taylor swift and bat brat versions), bri, and lilac

mostly cus without them this wouldn’t even be possible/done lol

let’s get on w this shall we? Hope you all enjoy <3

❉ ╤╤╤╤ ✿ ╤╤╤╤ ❉

Months have passed since your death.

In those months the children of Bruce Wayne, whether adopted or biological, grieve. All of them mourned you.

There are seldom times your grave is without fresh flowers or some sort of visitor, who either sits in silence or just talks to the headstone in a conversation that they know they’ll never get your input on again.

Your bedroom is in the same state of familiarity, too.

On some days, Alfred has to force Bruce to get out of bed or to even come home.

No one looks at Alfred quite the same anymore, but no one looks at Alfred with the same disgust as Alfred’s own reflection.

✧✿✧

Since the funeral, family dinners went from being twice a week, to just once.

And then they went to once a month, with Alfred having to just watch as the number of people who attended them dwindled, before eventually they came to a total stop.

✧✿✧

Today is another day of distant and silent mourning, as Alfred stands in his room, looking through pictures of you and Bruce as children.

Down the hallway as Alfred looks at a picture of you on your seventh (7th) birthday, he hears Cassandra softly crying down the hall in your bedroom.

During your birthday that year, when you’d turned seven (7) years old, Alfred remembers how the only thing you’d asked for was a cake. Specifically, you requested that he let you help him bake your birthday cake.

Alfred can’t help but smile, even just slightly, as he remembers how big of a mess you’d made when you had attempted to dump the entire bag of flour into the mixing bowl.

He also can’t help but remember that after a long day of celebrating your birthday, it was the first night since you’d come to live with him and Bruce that you hadn’t woken up once because of a nightmare.

✧✿✧

Alfred had been in Bruce’s study when the news came.

A tray of food in hand, he’d been begging Bruce to eat something. Anything, even if it was just a piece of toast that he hadn’t prepared himself.

“Master Bruce, you haven’t eaten in the past few days. Please, take at least one bite.”

Bruce only raises his head, dark circles under his eyes as he just blankly stares at him. An almost soulless look, one that gives a hollow feeling of emptiness.

Across the desk in Bruce’s study are papers, books, various gadgets in states of disrepair or in the middle of being made, as well as schematics for them that have the occasional ring-shaped coffee stain on them.

“Not now, Alfred. I have things to do,” Is Bruce’s only reply, a hoarse and exhausted sounding tone held within his words.

Alfred’s coming words of protest are silenced by the sounds of an alarm going off. Not too loud but neither too quiet, but just enough to make Alfred go silent.

NEW HUNTER DETECTED

That’s what the screen on Bruce’s computer read.

Various screens pop up on Bruce’s computer, each showing feed from different CCTV cameras of a person moving through Gotham and killing vampires in their wake.

The videos in question had been saved from numerous different days in the past few weeks, all adding up together once there was enough saved to trigger the algorithm that Tim had made. Specifically, it was designed to use the cameras around Gotham to track and keep note of Vampire Hunters and vampire attacks. Made solely to help prevent someone else from suffering the same fate you did.

All to prevent them from having to lose someone else.

Bruce and Alfred watch as the videos play, watching as the new hunter the algorithm had detected took out various vampires across the city of Gotham. But what made Bruce rub the drowsiness from his eyes as he leans forward, peering closer at the numerous video feeds was not because of how they looked.

No, it was because of how they moved.

The way they moved was eerily familiar. The way they moved with such precision that only got better and better with each new video feed that grew to be more recent was what had Bruce holding his breath.

While they had kept you from knowing the world of Vampire Hunting most of your life, they hadn’t let you be completely defenseless.

Which was why it was so eerie to see that the way this person was moving, was by using moves he’d only ever taught you. It was unmistakable, really. Bruce had grown up with you, knew most of the little habits you had. He knew you better than he knew himself sometimes.

Bruce is unsure if he wants to let himself grow delusional about whether or not it was who he thought it was. Should he? Could he? Was it even worth the pain it’d bring by opening up old wounds, to bring back the choking hold of grief?

Bruce can feel Alfred staring at him, because he gets that same feeling of familiarity. But it should be impossible. It couldn’t be possible.

But was it? Could it be?

Alfred sets the tray of food down on Bruce’s desk, taking the opportunity to clean up some of its disorganized mess. But it’s only because he doesn’t want to let his mind wander like Bruce’s is. He already lets it wander far enough when he looks through photo albums and when he sees his face reflected off the tea he drinks in the morning, in the mirror, off the windows, and on the screen of Bruce’s computer.

Bruce doesn’t even acknowledge the tray of food Alfred leaves on his desk, only getting up after receiving a notification on the screen that the new hunter was spotted again. Bruce already felt the idea of who it could be creeping into his mind and clinging there, leaving him wondering. Wanting to know. Needing to know, to get his question answered.

“I’ll be out for a while.”

“Will I expect you back for dinner today, Master Bruce?”

Alfred is only met with silence as Bruce grabs what he needs and heads out the door. Which gives him his answer.

“At least come back unscathed, Master Bruce. I don’t think they want you to join them just yet.”

“Don’t act like you know what they would’ve wanted, Alfred.”

Alfred goes quiet again. He understands, after all. He knows Bruce is still hurting, just like the others are. Alfred was the last person to see you alive, and was the only one there when you drew your last breath. They resent him for that.

But they also can’t look at him the same after knowing that it was because of him that you drew in that last gasp of air, held in his arms in that cold, dirty alley whilst the sun rose in the distance.

What makes it worse was just how often you used to like watching the sun rise. It was often when the others finally returned from their patrols, having spent all night hunting down vampires to make Gotham even just a little safer.

And every time, you’d be there, waiting for them. You’d welcome them home, tend to their injuries, and if they had a particularly rough night you’d even make them something, though it was usually some sort of baked dessert, like cake or cookies. And even though Bruce had a disdain for anything overly sweet, he’d still eat whatever cake you’d baked for him, even if it was so sweet it made him feel nauseous.

But no matter how much of a disdain Bruce had for sweet foods in general, he never could quite turn them down when you made them. You always had a smile with comforting words to follow, all to mask just how truly worried about him you were. Bruce knew that you always wanted, deep down, for him to stop being a vampire hunter. But you knew he couldn’t nor wouldn’t stop, so you always kept quiet about it.

If you weren’t so worried, if Bruce did anything to ease your worries, would you have let him know that you wanted to be walked home that night? He’d seen the unsent text message. Tim showed it to him. It’d been easy for Tim to find, with how unprotected your phone was from hackers and the like. You had deleted the message, and Bruce knew why.

It was because you felt guilty about even thinking of asking for his help. You knew how busy he was saving Gotham from vampires, which meant you could never work up the courage to ask him. He’d already helped you so many times before, and you barely could do anything to help him. Would things be different, Bruce thinks, if he’d texted you to make sure you got home safe instead of focusing on his patrol? Would you still be here, alive and well? Would you be here, saying goodbye to him as he heads out, telling him to stay safe?

Bruce forces the thoughts to shake free from his head as he swiftly departs, not allowing himself to turn around, knowing only that his heart would ache when he doesn’t see you there waiting for him. It’s always hurt, because the first few days he’d always mistakenly hear you calling out for him, sometimes even thinks he’d see you in the corner of his eye.

But whenever he’d turn and look, you weren’t there, and Bruce remembers.

✧✿✧

It takes a few minutes for Bruce to track down the new vampire hunter who’d somehow been able to avoid making Tim’s detection system go off, as it should have alerted Bruce to their presence months ago. The night is cold since autumn is right around the corner, and it reminds Bruce of just how cold that night was when you’d been brought to Wayne manor.

Bruce reminds himself to focus as he follows the new vampire hunter, who moves through Gotham as if they know the place by heart. Which almost seems odd to know every part of Gotham, when they’d only been detected less than six months ago. It’s odd, because the system has only had a record of their existence from that time frame. The program couldn’t even pick up data from normal Gotham citizens from before that to link it back to them.

It was odd.

So, so incredibly odd. Almost an off-putting, eerie kind. The type you get when you walk down the street at night and suddenly don’t feel alone, like you shouldn’t be there.

Bruce has this odd, eerie feeling for almost fifteen minutes before he realizes. The world’s greatest detective, they say, and it took him fifteen minutes of following this new vampire hunter to realize they were leading him in a circle. That they knew they were being followed.

When Bruce realizes he’s been following the new vampire hunter blindly for fifteen minutes in that same circle, the vampire hunter seems to know, too.

“Took you long enough to notice, Batman. You're getting awfully slow.”

Why does that voice sound so familiar?

Why does Bruce feel like he’s heard it somewhere before? And why is the familiarity hurting him?

Bruce leaps down from the rooftop he rests upon, landing on the street beside them. That feeling that screams in Bruce’s head that he knows who this vampire hunter is, who they are underneath the mask, is hideously strong. Almost sickeningly so.

But who is it?

Bruce narrowly avoids the punch the vampire hunter has swinging his way when he snaps out of his thoughts. Getting distracted and in a daze when confronting someone isn’t smart, he knows that. He taught Dick and Jason never to lose focus in a fight.

But yet here he is, losing focus.

Jason would probably find it ironic if he were here right now.

“Focus, Batman. Isn’t that what you taught those boys of yours?”

Behind Bruce’s mask, his face is scrunched up in confusion. Contorted as he continues to try and avoid getting hit, because he hates just how easy it is for him to lose focus because of just one thought.

But yet, even despite how familiar these moves are- which are the only reasons he’s able to avoid them even at the last possible moment- there’s something that bothers him, something that he realizes. The vampire hunter who is fighting him, attacking him, isn’t doing it with the purpose most others would.

It’s almost like it’s some sort of warning, as they change the trajectory of their moves to only hit the most non-vital points. Areas where it won’t do anything but leave a nasty bruise.

Which is odd, considering Bruce now realizes after a particular glint in the fluorescent lighting of the street lights that line the roads of Gotham, when the mask of the vampire hunter before him slips just enough when Bruce finally strikes back is that there are fangs.

Fangs.

The vampire hunter right in front of Bruce, the one that has managed to evade program that Tim spent weeks coding, the same vampire hunter that is refusing to strike Bruce anywhere vital as if some sign of guilt, is a vampire.

A vampire, hunting down and killing other vampires. Killing them. In a most brutal fashion, too, based on what Bruce and Alfred saw in the collected video files.

Why is a vampire, a creature that exists to attack and feed off of humans, trying to avoid hurting him?

Why?

Bruce can’t make sense of it. He can’t. There is virtually no reason for any vampire in Gotham, in the entirety of this world, that they would be trying to not hurt him.

Most vampires attempt to kill him on sight. So why isn’t this one? Why is it acting so… odd?

Bruce twists around the outstretched, reaching arm of the vampire hunter as they move in a pattern that Bruce is quickly learning. They never differ or change the pattern, no matter how often Bruce is able to evade their attacks. And with that open window of opportunity, he takes the chance to collect a sample of their DNA.

Some blood, to be specific.

The vampire… hunter lets out some sort of noise of pain. Not quite a shriek, nor a yelp, but just a noise. And just as soon as they started attacking Bruce, they are trying to flee.

And before Bruce can attempt to stop them, they are gone.

But that’s fine, because Bruce has what he came for. A blood sample.

Enough for Bruce to test, to compare to others in the database to see who they are.

Because that is the question lingering on his mind. Who is it? Just who is this new vampire hunter that has been able to leave a growing pile of bodies in their wake in just mere months?

✧✿✧

Bruce doesn’t waste a moment, ignoring Alfred’s pleas to let him look over and treat his injuries, as minor as they are. Just a few bruises that will heal.

He doesn’t waste a moment in immediately getting to work on finding out who that vampire is. Who the vampire hunting down and killing other vampires is, who they are underneath that mask.

After loading the sample into the batcomputer, he waits. Sitting there with so much impatience, so eager to find out who it is. It’s almost suffocating just how badly he wants it to just finish already, to just show him the results.

Alfred takes the opportunity, though, to place another tray full of food in front of Bruce. Because it’s now been a few days since Bruce last ate, and the only thing he’s done is keep himself hydrated.

Bruce attempts to protest, but he relents at the painful gnawing in his stomach. No longer able to keep himself sufficiently distracted to not notice just how hungry he is. But all he does is take small, slow bites, watching the progress the batcomputer is making on the sample.

He eats so slowly that by the time the sample is eighty [80] percent analyzed, the food has grown cold. So cold that it makes Bruce not want to eat anymore, even if he’s barely even touched any of the food. But Alfred is happy anyway, because he’s happy that Bruce has something in his stomach.

Even if it’s not a whole lot.

✧✿✧

When Bruce saw the results, his mouth went dry. His chest felt like an unrelenting void, filled with a crashing tidal wave. The creeping feeling that fills him is just as terrifying.

Alfred had to practically pry Bruce away from the batcomputer, as he mumbles nothing but words about how the results had to be wrong.

How there was no possible way that the blood sample belonged to and came from just who the batcomputer said it did.

So now here everyone was, called here by Alfred. Stated to be an absolute and utter emergency, and that excuses would not be tolerated. It was absolutely mandatory, and emergencies were to be ignored because this was the emergency.

Jason didn’t want to be here. Dick didn’t want to be here.

None of them wanted to be here. Not in the same home they’d ‘grown up’ in, that now held nothing but bitter reminders of a certain death. The death of someone they viewed as a child, a sibling, a parent. A role model.

You. Your death.

But yet here they are. Unable to avoid it, because it was an order. An order that it was an emergency, and no one could turn away when someone raises the alarm about something being an emergency.

When everyone arrives, Bruce is already seated in his office. He almost seems emotionless, like there isn’t even an ounce of life behind his eyes as he simply stares ahead, blankly.

He doesn’t even react when they all close the door behind themselves, his eyes only moving up once Dick stands in front of him.

“Why were we called here, Bruce?”

Dick’s voice sounds tired. But that’s because he is tired. He’s so, so tired of grieving. Of mourning you. Of feeling like that total and utter failure that he knows he is because he got lazy on one stupid patrol.

He’s tired of feeling like this. Feeling like he’s stuck in a deep pit of sadness and guilt, sadness because you died. Guilt because you died when he wasn’t looking hard enough. But yet, there’s also anger.

Anger at himself.

But Bruce doesn’t have the energy to answer Dick’s question, so Alfred does the talking. He shows the videos, also shows Bruce’s encounter with the vampire hunter. Everyone doesn’t quite understand just why there was an emergency meeting being called over a vampire hunter. Sure, it was alarming they were a vampire but that wasn’t cause for an emergency.

That is, until Alfred shows the results from the batcomputer. Results of who the DNA belongs to.

And while some seem surprised, some in a state of utter shock, others just feel.. Numb. Like there was nothing they could feel besides the ever consuming pit of nothingness in their chest.

But everyone is in disbelief, just as Bruce was. Is, more like.

The results showed a one-hundred [100] percent match for the last person they expected. The last person they even wanted to believe it could be.

You.

You, who was supposed to be dead. Buried six [6] feet under the ground in the cemetery on the grounds of the Wayne manor.

Dick wants to feel sick. Jason, too. Damian feels his stomach lurching as well, but he doesn’t let it show. He refuses to.

They all don’t want to believe the results are true, just as Bruce did. Because it should be simply impossible, right? They all made sure you were dead before burying you.

“But that’s impossible. We made sure. Alfred-... He…” The words choke and die in Tim’s throat. But everyone knows what he means. How could they not?

Alfred made sure, because he was the one who dealt the killing blow.

Those are the words that go unspoken. The truth, as disgusting and heavy as it is.

But is it the truth? Did Alfred actually deal the killing blow?

And the truth is, they hadn’t double checked. So lost in their grief over your bloody body that Alfred brought back to the manor they hadn’t even bothered to check and make sure that Alfred had actually shot you in the heart.

They had just assumed he had.

“Alfred… You.. You checked, right?”

Dick’s voice is shaky, as ragged and rushed as his breathing. He feels like he already knows the answer, but god does he want to be wrong.

But the way Alfred clenches his jaw and his eyes focus on that abandoned tray of food from much earlier, food long since grown cold, gives Dick his answer.

“Bruce? You checked, right?”

Tim is the one to ask this time. Because surely, there is no way that Bruce didn’t check and confirm for himself. He’s thorough, he always is. There isn’t any realm of possibility that Bruce didn’t check… Right?

Right?

When Bruce doesn’t answer, there’s a look of disbelief on just about everyone's faces. Bruce Wayne, the ever thorough and the world’s ‘greatest detective’, renowned vampire hunter Batman, didn’t double check that you were dead?

“You checked, right?”

“No. I didn’t.”

And now everyone is left with the horrifying, dawning realization of just one thing. A simple thought that is horrifying to picture, to imagine. To even now be known as a reality.

They’d practically buried you alive.

Everyone quickly dispersed after that. No one could stand to be in the same room as each other, because even though they know they rightfully have no right to blame one another, even though they could blame themselves, it’s all they think about.

You were alive. Alive.

All this time you’d been alive while they mourned you. While Dick blamed himself, while Damian blamed Dick for the reason you were no longer present.

Damian feels sick to his stomach at just how angry he was at Dick in the past. Of the things he’d said to him, blaming him for your death. When you weren’t even dead.

Jason can feel nauseating guilt creeping in his chest, too. Ripping open a swallowing, fathomless pit. He’d screamed at Alfred. Been angry with him, caused him so much pain. Alfred hadn’t even killed you, and he’d been so angry at Alfred.

But the sudden appearance of the vampire hunter is making sense. It coincides with your death, somewhat. With the recovery period a vampire would need to recover from a wound like the one you’d taken.

But it makes so, so much sense.

✧✿✧

Six months ago is when Cass was out tracking a vampire. Well, more-so a large nest of them. One that held connections in various cities, dangerous and leaving an endless, bloody wake of victims.

Perhaps it was because of the grief clouding her mind, that thought of how this group could be the ones responsible. The one responsible for your death.

So she got sloppy. Just a little bit. Enough to make a small error that she normally wouldn’t make.

Cass hadn’t taken the time she usually did to make sure she was sure of just how many vampires actually lived in that nest before she charged into it to take out the vampires that resided there. The information hadn’t been totally accurate, it’d missed a few vampires. So she’d been quickly overrun, out of supplies with not even enough bullets to last her.

But just as Cass thinks she’s going to die for her margin of error, as she decides to resign to her fate because hey, it means she’ll get to see you again, the vampires that are about to kill her are dead.

And there’s a figure standing over their bloody remains that seems oddly familiar to Cass. But she can’t quite place it. At least, she couldn’t then.

“I thought you were taught better than this. This is a stupid mistake, even for you.”

Before Cass can ask the obvious question that’s scratching at the back of her mind, the figure is gone just as quick as they appeared. Leaving nothing evident of their presence, besides the dead vampires.

✧✿✧

They’d all been in some sort of predicament caused by their overwhelming grief that meant they’d needed someone to save their ass. And you had. You’d been there to rescue them from their mistakes every single time.

You’d saved Cass from death, been there to save Jason during the few times he’d been distracted [even if all he’d glimpsed of you was your retreating silhouette], and so much more.

But why had you never shown yourself to them? Why had you let them wallow in their own self pity and grief over your death, when you hadn’t even died?

Perhaps there was an answer to this question they didn’t yet have.

But it was no matter. They had time to get the answer they so desperately wanted. They had a means to find you the next time you appeared, all they had to do was wait.

✧✿✧

And wait they did.

It took almost a week before you appeared again, presumably to lay low for a while after that encounter with Bruce. As if it would stop them from figuring out the truth.

They’d even checked your grave. And god, were they horrified to find that it was empty, just as they’d feared.

But yes, when you’d appeared again after lying low for a week, Jason was the one sent to go talk to you. You’d always had a soft spot for him, after all.

So in his Red Hood gear, he approaches you. He wasn’t even sure if he should be surprised that you seemed to know he was there the moment he’d landed on that same rooftop as you.

But maybe he should, since he knows neither Bruce nor Alfred gave you any training to be a vampire hunter. They wanted you to stay as far away as possible from it, after all.

But perhaps that distance is why you’d never stood a chance the night you’d been attacked. Maybe it was the lack of making sure you were prepared to face the threats that lie in the very shadows they hunted in.

Jason sees your moments from fleeing from the way you visibly tense up and flinch when he steps closer to you, so he stops. He entirely freezes, because the last thing he wants is for you to disappear again.

“We know it’s you,” Is all Jason calls out, paired with your name instead of the nickname he’d always refer to you by. A parental nickname, something similar to the way children call their parents Mom or Dad, but entirely different and unique to you.

Jason watches the way you seem to think, still frozen in a stance that says you're seconds from fleeing, that him making the wrong choice is all it takes for you to disappear. But this time it’d be Jason’s fault that you're gone, not Dick’s.

“We aren’t mad, I promise.”

Bad thing to start off with, Jason. Now you’ll think they all were mad.

“What I meant to say is… We all miss you. When you died- thought you died, we didn’t know what to do.”

Jason is practically grasping at straws. He can see his words aren’t reaching you in the way he is hoping, wanting them to. He’s never been good at the comforting stuff, never been good at talking someone down. Not like Alfred is, not like Dick is. Not like Barbara, too.

What would they even say to you?

Jason feels lost, because just why did they send him to talk to you, instead of anyone else?

Well, not sending Alfred is understandable. He’d been the one to shoot you, and Jason knows that he wouldn’t want to see the Joker again, to be the one to talk to him. But what about Dick and Barbara? What would they do?

Jason doesn’t even know if attempting to continue to comfort you is worth it, especially not when it doesn’t even seem to be working.

“Why?”

Those words slip past Jason before he can even get a chance to stop himself. But it’s a question he really, really wants an answer to. Well, not just want. He needs to know. He needs to know why you’ve let them all sit and rot inside their grief and despair, even as understandable as it may be for Alfred because even he understands that seeing the person who killed you is not easy.

Well, not that Alfred even killed you. Almost killed you, which Jason understands. The Joker had almost killed him then, too. Instead he’d lived because some weird ‘miracle’ left him being some freak of nature, a half human but not entirely vampiric person.

Like some curse.

“I was supposed to be dead.”

“I get that.”

“Plus.. I’m a vampire, Jason. I’m a danger to you guys. What if.. What if I lose control? Like I did that night?”

He knows what you're talking about. The night you’d attacked Bruce before… Alfred shot you. Jason remembers hearing about it from a very heartbroken Bruce, although the heartbreak wasn’t easy to see on the surface. But Jason had known. So had everyone else.

After all, they’d all been pretty much trained and raised by Bruce. They knew what he was feeling- most of the time. Though they couldn’t see it as easy as Alfred did.

“We could’ve found ways around it that didn’t mean you totally avoided us,” Jason says those last words with more bitterness than he should’ve. He knows he has no right to be angry, doesn’t even deserve to be. But he can’t help it, not with how he can only rethink on just how he’d treated Alfred because of it.

“Because of that we treated Alfred-” He cuts himself off, not wanting to spew those words out. Doesn’t even want them to fall past his lips. But it’s far too late, judging by the way your eyes narrow and your head practically snaps toward him.

“What did you all do?”

The venom in your voice when you hear those words is unmistakable. Sure, you wouldn’t be able to look at Alfred the same because he’d been the one to shoot you, but you still understood why he had.

You were a vampire. Something dangerous, and he was doing what needed to be done.

Before Jason can even try to backpedal he’s already spewing to you how everyone’s treated Alfred since you’d ‘died’. Everything. Including how he’d screamed at Alfred after hearing what your last words were from him, down to him destroying his room, Bruce’s new attitude, everything.

“Why would you all do that?” You’d hissed almost immediately after he’d finished telling that tale. Disbelief is just about the only thing you feel, along with those other bitter emotions you were currently feeling.

“He killed- we thought he’d killed you, and we just.. We were angry! Because he took you away from us!”

When had you even marched over to him? Was it while he was speaking those venomous words about how Alfred had killed you, taken you from them? Or was it sooner?

Was he blinded by his own emotions to even notice?

Nevertheless, you're pretty much right in his face, and while Jason is expecting you to scream at him, maybe even yell, raise your voice somewhat, you don’t. Perhaps it’s worse that you sound calm.

“Alfred did what he needed to, what he had to.”

“But you were our family!”

“I do not deserve special treatment because I helped raise you all. Not because I was the person Bruce viewed as a little sibling, and the person Alfred viewed as his own child.”

“But-”

You silence him by raising a hand up, your eyes squeezed shut in the way it does when you’d had headaches in the past, pinching the bridge of your nose between your index finger and thumb.

“Tell me, Jason, would any of you have been able to do it then, hmm? Do you know how hard it was for Alfred to even point the gun at me without his hands shaking? Without crying? Would either of you have been able to pull the trigger instead of Alfred?”

Jason stays silent, and when you open your eyes to glare at him, demanding an answer like those times you’d interrogated him after he’d been stupid and nearly gotten himself killed on those patrols back when he was younger, back when he was just Robin and training under Bruce’s watch.

And he only shakes his head.

“But I promise I’ll be back.. Someday, I don’t know when. Don’t know if it’ll be soon, or if it’s not for years ahead. But I can promise that, okay?”

You really didn’t know just what else to say, honestly. You already had plans for what your coming moves were, for your motives. You knew Jason was wondering that just by glancing at him, even if you couldn’t see his face behind his helmet.

“And if you want, you can try to help me, if it’ll make you.. I don’t freaking know, feel better, I guess?”

“How?”

“You’ll see. It’ll be an answer to my motives and why I’ve been so secretive I guess. I’ll tell you how you can help me later.”

Jason wants to say something, but he doesn’t know if he should even be surprised you already know what it is he wants to say. “Oh, and don’t tell anyone I’m letting you help me. That part stays a secret, got it?”

Jason only nods in reply, and with that, you’ve disappeared from Jason’s sight, leaving him alone on that rooftop to think through his thoughts. And of your words, of course. To muddle them over, to debate whether or not he even accepts the notion of helping you.

With keeping it secret being the price he pays.

❉ ╧╧╧╧ ✿ ╧╧╧╧ ❉

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sophsicle · 13 days

Note

hi!! i’ve read both choices and kyd and it has been an incredible to read your works. i’ve been recommending them to everyone i know because i just feel like there’s something so special about them!! they even gave me the courage to pick up the pen again. however i don’t think my fics are being read by anyone and i’m starting to wonder if it’s just bad luck or if it’s just not good enough. do you have any advice you could give to people who are starting to publish their fanfics / works as well? :) have a great day !!!

Hi hi hi!

SO here's the thing, how much attention a fic gets is based almost entirely (in my opinion) on luck. fandom is not a meritocracy, lots of incredible fan work doesn't get the appreciation it should just because of random stuff like what people are searching for, how some algorithm picks it up or doesn't, or because the people who read it aren't the people who talk to other people in the fandom so it doesn't get recommended etc. etc.

this is obviously a very frustrating unhelpful answer, but i think a) the most important thing is not to take the size of your audience as any indication of the quality of your work b) to not take it too seriously, just write what you want and have fun with it c) maybe check out your tags and make sure your stuff will be easy to find

you can also post snippets on tumblr or tiktok or whatever socials u use and sometimes that helps people find stories!

#soph rambles

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grumpygreenwitch · 2 months

Text

The Witches and Wizards Job 15-16

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1-2 + 3-4 + 5-6 + 7-8 + 9-10-11 + 12-13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21-22 + 23-24-25 + 26-27-28 + 29-30 + 31-32-33 + 34-35-36 + 37-38 + 39-40-41-42

FIFTEEN

Nate sprinted through the trail of destruction, chasing it all the way up the stairs and over several upturned benches. He skid to a halt at the sight of the shattered window, the marble floors battered but still smooth enough that he overshoot them. "Parker!"

"Nate!" She ran for him. "So the painting's a door with a lock and the man from the painting's real and he's a wizard -"

Nate gritted his teeth and focused on the onslaught. Everyone else tempered their reports; Parker didn't. Any information he didn't get now, when she was volleying it at him fresh out of her perceptions, would later be skewed from the thief's… unique perspective on the world. He could translate, he normally did, if only because usually he just wanted to make sure she was safe, they were all safe. But things had gone so ballistically out of control that he didn't dare.

Eliot dragged their battered consultant up, righted a bench the Golden Bear hadn't managed to destroy in its blind charge, and sat Dresden on it. "I'll be honest, man," he said calmly, "I liked it better when I thought it was just rabbits out of hats."

"You and me both," Dresden ground out, his head down. He was ashen with pain, and when Eliot put a hand gingerly on the wizard's shoulder he nearly swooned.

"Alright, my man, that shoulder's out." Eliot tried to catch Dresden's gaze.

"I know."

"It's dislocated -"

"I know."

"I can fix it -"

"I don't want you to, but I know."

"Harry, look at me."

"I can't," Dresden ground out at last. "You people trust too easy and I've been dodging soul-gazes since I met you all."

That brought the hitter up short. He could count the times he'd been accused of being too trusting in one hand, and for most of them he hadn't been old enough to drink legally. "S… Soul-gaze? What, you can look into my soul?" he tried to joke, even though something told him the wizard wasn't being funny.

"Sort of. Kind of." Dresden swallowed hard and tried to find any one position where his shoulder would leave him in peace. "It's a mutual sort of situation, though."

Eliot found himself both horrified and curious. It seemed to be a very common state of being where Dresden was concerned. "So you… look into my soul, and I get to look into yours?"

"Yeah. Reviews have been mixed for the show, so I prefer to skip it when I can. Makes it hard to keep friends." Harry gave him a wry grin, forgot himself and tried to shrug, and nearly fell off the bench.

Eliot hurried to steady the man, and suddenly Nate was there. "Hold him up, Nate."

"Yup. Getting your incidentals in, aren't you, Dresden."

"You pay those?" the wizard asked dizzily, then howled when Eliot, taking advantage of his moment of distraction, jerked the shoulder back into place. "That was about as painful as I thought it would be," he ground out breathlessly.

"Enjoy it later," Nate helped the hitter drag Dresden to his feet. "We've gotta get out of here before the cops swarm the place."

"I'm getting a little worried about what you people do for a living," Dresden admitted as they hurried past the massive gouges the Golden Bear's claws had left on the stairs, and the fine shale it had made of everything else that had gotten in its path. The leshy had been no tidier, just smaller. At least they didn't have to go back into the lab area; they bypassed it and headed further into the museum, through it, and then past to the open storage area, full of far more modern and precious things like floor cleaner and trash bags by the gross.

By then the wizard was moving under his own power, which worried Eliot a bit. He crossed a look with Nate, and saw the mastermind pinch his mouth into a thin line. It wasn't just that Dresden had the sort of quick recovery that said he was used to working through such injuries, it was the fact that he hadn't been meant to get injured to begin with. The trip to the museum had been meant to be a look-don't-touch: Harry had been hired to advice, not to be caught in the crossfire. Neither hitter nor mastermind were pleased with how things had gone down, and they were entirely too aware that it was no one's fault; that didn't mean they didn't feel the burden of it.

Sophie was waiting for them at the wheel of the white van. They shoved the wizard on the shotgun seat and piled into the back, where Mouse greeted them with great concern. Followed by Lucille 2.0, where Hardison had already cleared them to break through the police cordon, they drove back home, to try and figure out if they had a win, a loss or something else in their hands.

They took the chance to lick their wounds, sorting through what information they'd gathered. While Hardison ordered them all dinner and Eliot sorted out Dresden, Nate stepped out, fingers twitching for a drink that, for the first time in a long while, he didn't dare have. He was already having trouble coping with everything he'd seen and heard and learned that day while sober; he wasn't sure his rational incredulity wouldn't turn him beligerent if he threw whiskey into the fire.

"Nate?" The voice that steered him like a lighthouse through his life was gentle. She was always gentle, even when the steel peeked through the gorgeous satin and lace. Sophie came to stand by him. "Are we dropping the case?"

"I don't know," he admitted to her as he would have no one else, staring at the street and the few passing people, all of it wrapped in the deep golden haze of a New England summer sunset. "We should, shouldn't we?" She shrugged delicately and they stood in silence for a long moment. "You're sure it was real? That it couldn't have been anything else?"

"Some part of you must've known it was real," she told him. "Or you'd have never agreed to hire Harry."

"Harry, is it?"

She grinned. "I know what you're thinking, stop it. I think it's cute, like a schoolboy crush."

He couldn't help but snort in amusement at that.

"It was real." Sophie chewed lightly on her lip. "I thought I believed, you know? I thought I was ready for it. It seemed so exciting, so fun." She scoffed at herself. "It was a man with a shotgun and we were sheep in a pen." When she heard him hiss a breath out, she spoke before he could. "Parker never doubted. Never even hesitated."

"Parker has a view of the world I envy somedays," he admitted. "I think… it can't be my call, not alone. I want to drop it. But I don't think Dresden would." He saw the grifter make a face, something he caught only because he knew the gamut of her expressions so well. "What?"

"What? Sophie replied innocently.

"No, no, what was that face for?"

She clung to the pretense for a moment longer. "It's Harry."

"What about him?" Nate's tone sharpened.

"Not like that, Nate," she told him tartly. "It's just… Harry. Parker believed him. Eliot doesn't care. Even Hardison likes him."

"I don't like him."

"You don't like anyone. But you're still including him in the planning, you're still making him part of the con. Tara had to fight for it with all of you."

Nate let out a soundless little 'ah'. "You hired Tara."

Sophie shifted away from him, her eyes going hard.

The mastermind shifted forward to match, catching her shoulders. "And it was the right call." He watched surprise flicker over her features, but he was long past the point where he'd allow himself to believe such admissions were a weakness. "We needed a grifter. None of them were ready to step into the role, and I'm not the greatest at it -"

"Nate Ford, admitting he's not perfect?" She teased him to hide her surprise and smiled a little, fussing with the lapels of his shirt. "But?"

"But you hired Tara. None of the team got a say in the matter. We all agreed to hire Dresden, even me."

She licked her lips and thought on it. "I don't think we should drop the case. I don't think we can," she looked up at him.

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of," he admitted. "If they come after Parker, they'll be dealing with all of us."

"Even Harry?"

Nate sighed, deeply put upon. "Even the wizard." The streetlights came on at that moment, and a familiar car pulled up next to them along the curb; Nate brightened up. "Food's here."

"You know, we got that house and everything, we were supposed to have meetings there to protect Hardison's equipment, and I don't think anyone's set foot on it except his dog." Sophie pointed out as they rode the elevator up, arms full of Chinese take-out.

"Hopefully that'll change soon. I don't want to beat Fedorov on the exploding equipment department."

SIXTEEN

Parker came to find me with a cup of coffee and a very confused expression on her face. Of all the Leverage people she was the less emotive of the bunch, the hardest to read. Sophie flickered through her emotions depending on the situation, but they were still honest. Ford was just angry, so rigidly controlled I was honestly surprised the man didn't snap like a string pulled too far. Eliot and Hardison were relatively normal, if that word even applied to any of the team. But you know. Wizard. Stones and glass houses and all that.

It took me a moment to realize that she was worried. "What's that look for, me?"

"Yes." She admitted readily.

I scoffed. "I've been worse."

"You weren't supposed to get hurt," she protested. "You were just supposed to answer questions and explain things."

Ah. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that, when Leverage had hired me as a consultant, they actually meant a consultant. I scooted myself over; I was resting on the only couch in the place, Mouse half-sprawled on my lap, staring mournfully at me. I'd showered, and Eliot had wrapped me up like a mummy so my ribs were only twinging occasionally. My arm was on a sling; I didn't want to ask why there were so many high-grade medical supplies at hand.

"We did, you know. Break into a museum."

She scoffed even as she sat next to me. "That's the point."

"A point I'm not following."

"If we just wanted you to see the portrait, Dresden, she could've stolen it for you." Eliot came out of the back of the loft, behind the wall of silent, dark screens. "She could've even put it back, but it would have taken too long to do it undetected." He marched into the kitchen and found a beer in the rattling fridge.

Parker popped her mouth. "So yeah. It was me."

"It wasn't you."

"He's right," Ford swept into the room, Sophie behind him, both their arms full of Chinese take-out. Hardison's head popped up from under one of the desks around the screens, and in a moment there was enough food going around that no one spoke for a few minutes.

"What do you mean it wasn't me?" Parker finally demanded.

"I mean we've been wrong about this from the beginning," Ford explained, and then his mouth pressed to a very thin line. "And we put mister Dresden in the line of fire with that misunderstanding. We did. The team did." The anger simmered minutely. "I did."

Oh. Oh. It was himself he lived angry at. Oh, boy.

"We agree that the malfunctioning fire suppression system at the Gardner was a sloppy job?" Nate asked the table, to general assent. "And we're still stuck on the targets?"

"Couldn't have been us, Fedorov wouldn't have been sloppy, that only leaves the woman," Eliot replied.

"No," Ford said. "It doesn't only leave the woman, because there was a fourth target."

"The portrait," Sophie breathed.

Hell's Bells, he was right.

"The attack was already planned," Ford explained. "Something simply accelerated the timeline. Now, it wasn't Fedorov because again, his visit was planned. It wasn't us, we hadn't taken the case yet."

"Baba Yaga," Parker breathed.

"Yes." Ford confirmed with deadly certainty. "This man, the man in black, he wasn't just coming by. He was coming in, to make sure everything was in place. Then he saw the woman and decided, why not. We were a monkeywrench, a snag he wasn't expecting." He stared levelly at Parker. "We've kept him from stealing the portrait twice. Once, when we derailed the impromptu attack and twice, because without the cylinder he couldn't go through with the actual, scheduled theft."

It worked. I saw Parker straighten up minutely, tension leaving her shoulders. More, it made sense. Ford had taken the bare-bones fragments that his team had managed to pick up here and there, and he'd put them together into a complete map of a plan I hadn't even glimpsed. Everyone in the Leverage team had a specialization; I was beginning to understand what Nate Ford was good at, and Jesus, he was really friggin' good.

"They should have never moved the collection," Sophie breathed.

"But they did," Ford declared with deadly finality. "Moving on. Parker, what else did you get from the man in black?"

"Wait." I went into the kitchen, found the salt and a paring knife, and came back. I made a protective circle around the chairs and the coffee table, empowered it, and looked up to find all five of them staring at me curiously. "People move," I explained. "You rarely get a good trace on an item when it's on a person, unless it belongs to them. I can't tell you if the man in black is good or bad at it, but I can tell you that as soon as he feels Parker doesn't have the stuff on her, he's going to try and track it down." I focused on the six of us being the only ones free to come and go past the shield, and poured a bit of my will into it. It snapped into life and I tried to hide a grimace; just that tiny bit of magic had felt like sandpaper scraping over a barely healed wound.

"Can you make something a little more permanent or, uh, less kickable than salt?"

"Did you get the brass piping from my shopping list?"

Ford looked at Hardison, who shrugged. "I got abou a third of the way through the list. It's all in the back room."

I wasn't sure I'd heard him right; the list hadn't been endless, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'd gone a little overboard, just because Ford's attitude had rubbed me wrong. "A th… A third?"

Eliot chuckled. "Harry, you know what's a few miles down that way?" He stabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

Fishman Central immediately came to mind, but I wasn't sure the hitter meant that. "Innsmouth?"

"Salem," he corrected, grinning. "Salem, Massachussetts."

I could have kicked myself. I was a bus ride away from one of the few places in the States that openly celebrated magic and witchcraft; granted a lot of it was just kitsch and tourist traps, but I didn't know how much of it was real. I had no idea how much of my shopping list Leverage could have acquired by basically walking down to the corner store.

"A lot of it was just hardware." Eliot looked terribly amused.

"How long will it take you to make a permanent…?" Ford waved his hand at the salt.

"Uh… Not long if I had both my arms, but -"

"Hardison and I can be your hands," Eliot pointed out.

"Alright, hardware mode," Hardison sounded outright gleeful. It probably had something to do with the look of utter resignation Ford was suddenly wearing. Eliot and Hardison shared a fistbump.

"Should I wait, then?" Parker sounded uncertain.

"I want a look," I admitted, curious in more ways than one. Sure, she'd stolen my wand, and my shield-bracelet. And my wallet. But how much could she have possibly got off the man in black given the only time she'd been near him he'd been practically strangling her?

"So do I," Ford relented after a moment. "But it's more important than ever now that the man in black doesn't find us."

"I want to know what those things were," Sophie said, not bothering to hide a shiver.

"Leshy," I said. It was a little jarring when I wasn't the only one who offered the answer. I looked at Eliot; everyone, in fact, was looking at Eliot, who looked as flustered as I'd yet seen the man.

"Leshy, that's Russian," Ford managed to look at me instead, but it was a struggle. Hell, I could barely look at him rather than at Leverage's heavy hitter.

"Yeah, they're Russian fairies. Dug up your fields, broke your tools if you left them out, you know. Engaged in general mayhem. When the modern age rolled around they turned into rent-a-th - how." Nope, couldn't look away from Eliot. "How do you even know about leshy?"

"I've had a couple of run-ins with them," he admitted sheepishly. "To be fair I thought leshy was the name of the organization, their last name, something like that, not like a, a name for what they are."

"How did you know it was them?" Ford asked curiously.

"Their accent." Eliot looked even more flustered. "It's a very distinctive accent, alright?"

"So the man in black can hire fairies to do his stealing for him," Sophie ground out disdainfully. "How nice for him."

"The leshy aren't the problem," I told her. It was still odd, somewhere between gratifying and scary, to find people who weren't trying to explain magic away, who were simply taking it in stride as much as possible, making it part of their plans, dealing with it. "You didn't see how he summoned the bear."

"That was seamless," Eliot agreed thoughtfully. "You've worked ahead on everything you've done. He didn't. That's a problem, isn't it."

"Portals aren't easy. They're expensive, in time, in materials, in magic. You can sort of cheat if it's a spot where people keep coming and going -"

"Where a path's been worn in," Ford mused.

"Yeah. But what he did? I know maybe two people who could open a portal like that, no prep, no tools. I know none who could also open it exactly to the Nevernever creature that they wanted to summon, unless they're also from the Nevernever, and this guy isn't. He's a wizard. He's human."

"You don't look happy to know that." Ford was watching me with hyperbolic attention. He'd been the hardest to avoid for a soul-gaze; the Leverage people used their eyes like they did everything else, voice, posture, brain - like a weapon. Ford still didn't like me, even if he was willing to both believe me and work with me. He kept trying to stare me down, and I really didn't want to see what the ice in his gaze hid.

I also didn't want him to look into my soul and find out he was mostly right about me. "Wizards are strictly forbidden to use magic to harm or kill others."

"Ah." I watched him digest that. "Men in grey and big swords?"

"Yup."

"Is there anything in your world that doesn't carry a death penalty?" Sophie protested, incredulous.

"Between him and me we just blew up an entire lab in that museum. Men in grey and big swords are… about the only thing that works." I couldn't believe that I was agreeing with the White Council but the truth was, the Wardens existed for people like the man in black. I'd run afoul of them, and I'd been snagged for a scapegoat way too often to ever make peace with the Council or their attack dogs, but until the system got fixed, they were what we had.

"Hm." Ford filed away that information. I could almost hear his mind whirring, coming up with ideas, thoughts, possibilities - a computer that no magic could short out. "Parker, you about done?"

"Almost," she informed him.

I looked back at her. She had knelt by the coffee table, just shy of my circle, and was still pulling things out of her pockets.

… how?!

She saw me staring and gave me that wicked grin. "He had a lot of stuff. I left his stick, though. I left anything I thought he might notice was gone." Finally she pulled the key out.

"No, don't put that down," I stopped before I caught her hand. Parker, I'd noticed, was one of those people who don't like to be touched. She didn't mind Hardison doing it, but I was beginning to suspect they were an item. She didn't mind Sophie, but if anyone qualified as a Team Mom, Sophie was it. But even Eliot and Ford made sure never to initiate contact, leaving her to breach the distance at her leisure. "You're the best protection it has right now."

"Oh."

"Just let me have a good look at it. We already know what it opens."

She held it up obediently for me.

It was a very old key, small, the sort that might open a keepsake box. It had a slim bar with the expected toothy bit at one end and an incredibly elaborate flower design on the other, full of tiny jewels. At first I'd thought it was silver, but with my life not being threatened I could tell that the shine of it was too bright. "Platinum."

"Yes, and diamonds. Can you turn it, Parker?" Sophie's head tipped as she stared. "Beautiful. Old. Those are the Finnish techniques Faberge learned from his mentor, and later perfected. Those aren't sapphires."

"No, they're emeralds. Egyptian emeralds. They look blue because no one has gems of that purity anymore, not even the Colombians." Ford had walked behind the couch so he could lean closer without disturbing the circle. I'd made a guess on the platinum; I was pretty sure neither Sophie nor Ford were guessing. "Dresden, do any of those have any… significance?"

It was almost refreshing to have the one disbeliever. "Platinum's a good magical conductor. Gold's better, but platinum's a little more resilient." Hardison, across from me, was laughing again, and I took a guess as to why. "Same with technology?"

"Where did you lose your way, man? When did you, and all this, start running on a proprietary OS? We could've been friends. Cyberpunk. Magitech Imagine the possibilities."

"Hardison, I can't even keep a fridge. I'd be your first convert." I returned my attention to the key. I expected the squiggly details on it to mean something, but not what I found. "Huh." I put my hand out for it.

"I thought you wanted me to keep it," Parker protested.

"You can, but I don't think you have to. It does have an enchantment worked into it - a tracking foil."

"It can't be tracked?" Ford perked up.

"No. Not by the man in black, not by anyone." The key pinged lightly against my hand and my magic. It was powerful, just as powerful as I'd come to expect from any object involved in this whole mess, but carefully contained. From up close the confusion enchantment upon it was even more complex, the work like lace. "This is… It's like everything else involved so far. Way too powerful to be found out here in the real world. This is a thing of the Nevernever, of fairy tales, like the mirror the leshy were using." I handed the key back. "Can I borrow that later?"

"Why?"

She wasn't being rude, but literal. Hard as she was to read when it came to emotions, Parker was very straightforward when it came to most other interactions and I actually appreciated that a lot. "Because I'm gonna tape it to the death bottle downstairs."

She frowned thoughtfully at me as she took the key back, and then put it all together. "So the key will make it harder to find."

"Now you're thinking like a wizard."

She beamed.

"Dresden brings up an important point," Ford stepped back around. "This case has gotten way bigger than anything we usually handle. These are not the type of people we usually take on. These aren't the risks we normally take." He caught and held the eyes of each of his people; he tried with me, but I was looking at the mess of things Parker had left on the coffee table. "Are we staying on this job?"

"Why would we drop it?" Parker asked.

"Because a giant bear and multiple fairy thugs just tried to kill you," I told her mildly.

"Yeah, but people are always trying to kill us."

That was a little jarring to hear. "What is it you people do again?"

"Steal things," Parker went back to sitting next to me, the key disappearing somewhere on her person.

"I - Yes, but - I mean, other than the obvious!"

"I knew from the beginning this was gonna be big," Eliot slouched comfortably back and shrugged peaceably at Ford. "The leshy are real. The bear was real. We've managed, and honestly, I don't want to think of what might have happened if we hadn't gotten involved at the Gardner museum, or at the MFA."

"He's right," Sophie laced her hands and leaned forward to stare at the oddities on the coffee table. "This might be bigger than we're used to, but if not us, no one. I just -" She shot me a quick look that I almost missed.

"This is what I do," I told her.

"But not what we hired you for," Ford said with quiet force. "You were supposed to advice, Dresden, to inform. Not get caught in a firefight."

"Or almost get eaten by a bear," Eliot added mildly.

"You hired me for my services as a wizard. If there's a rogue wizard running around Boston, this is exacly where I'm supposed to be, and exactly what I'm supposed to be doing."

Muscles twitched along Ford's jaws. "Hardison?"

Leverage's tech-man was quiet for a moment before he shrugged lightly. "It's just screens, Nate. I'm like, the least at-risk person here, and I agree with Eliot. We've managed so far, even without knowing what we were dealing with. Now we know, sort of. We've done a lot more with a lot less."

Ford frowned. Unlike Sophie, he could actually not look at me when he chose to.

Seriously. It felt weird to have people worry about my well-being that were also paying for my work.

"Fine. We stay on the job. Dresden." He waved my attention on to the table.

There were a dozen things, some of them nearly as glorious as the key, some of them plain and unassuming. There was a wooden egg, unpainted, without decoration except for the grain of the wood. I opened it to find a hollow inside, lined with ancient lamb's wool.

"Oh, a nesting doll!" Sophie exclaimed. "Is the inside lost?"

I set the egg aside and looked around. "Looks like it." There was a beautiful comb, the sort you use to pin your hair back if you're a lady of high standing, gold and lacquer and tiny pearls. I picked it up and dropped it almost at the same time; it reeked of death magic, dormant but powerful, like a high-voltage cable lying on the ground.

"Is that bad?" Ford asked.

"It's not nice." There was a wooden cup done in an archaic style, without handle, with a high base and beautiful carving around the rim. A greasy, aging rabbit's foot, the claws yellow with age. A scrap of coarse blue fabric that might have been a handkerchief. A box of matches. A stub of a candle that felt so loaded with magic I had to carefully roll it to one side. "You know what." This was absurd; Parker had apparently pickpocketed a magpie. I dug into my pocket and threw two additions onto the pile: a few black feathers and the shards of the enchanted mirror.

"What are the feathers from?" Parker, next to me, asked.

"From when I tried to grab him and the leshy picked me off him. I don't know what I actually got hold of, but it was on him."

"And the mirror?" Ford stared at all of this curiosly.

"The leshy were using it to communicate. Bit like your earbuds," I nodded at Hardison.

"Aren't magic mirrors supposed to be big and fancy?" he replied.

"They are." I didn't have to explain anything else; I could feel their understanding in their tension.

There was a small scrimshaw duck; the ivory felt like the tooth of something old and highly predatory, and when I examined it more closely I realized it was a whistle. Some chicken bones bound up in a napkin I figured belonged to a local joint. A random chess piece, a black tower, plastic. An empty, crumpled envelope. I un-crumpled it and put the feathers in it. "No wallet?" It was meant to be a joke. I was trying to hide my shock; some part of me wondered if Parker had even left the lint in his pockets.

She shrugged. "He'd have missed that. He did have a pocket watch, but -"

"But he'd have missed that, too. And you said he had a, a stick, a blasting rod, a wand like mine." She nodded.

I stared at the mess in front of me.

"Spell?" Eliot asked.

"Ritual?" Sophie suggested.

I shoved aside the comb and the candle. "These two are magic. These," I waved the handkerchief at the rest of the stuff and threw it in with the lot, "are not."

"But it's a rabbit's foot," Parker protested.

"Didn't bring the rabbit a lot of luck, did it? Luck is hard magic, Parker. It's like a whip, the recoil's always gonna come back to bite you in the face if you push it too far." Even with the three things out of the way, I couldn't think of any spell, any ritual, any magic that would require all the things in front of me. I was pretty sure a wizard of the caliber of the man in black didn't shove chicken bones in his pocket out of a driving desire not to litter, so even that had to have meaning, weight in some fashion. "I need a scrying crystal. I need to make sure there's no magic to them, or a connection between them - is this table important to someone?" I rapped my knuckles on it and fished my sharpie out of a pocket in the duster.

"Go ahead," Ford replied. "How long would it take you to make your… crystal?"

"Not long." I wanted to be in bed. I didn't care if it was made of nails and crushed glass, sleeping on the train hadn't been nearly as restful as I'd made it out to be, and I'd just had a serious throwdown with a wizard that was at least two centuries old and powerful accordingly. But I also needed answers; my employers needed answers. "It makes no sense that only these two things would be magical. I'm thinking there's a Veil on them."

"What's a Veil?"

"Head magic, mind magic. You hide something, or you make it look like something else, someone else. Like the man in black did, back at the vault, wearing your friend's face." I gathered everything together on the table and drew a circle around it. The sharpie already had some of my blood in it, I kept it exactly for the kind of use it was currently seeing: circles on the fly that needed more solidity than chalk.

"Oh, yeah." Parker scowled at nothing; apparently she was going to hold that grudge unto the end times.

"He what?" Hardison exclaimed.

"He stole Jess' face."

Yup, definitely unto the end times.

"He what?" Hardison's brow furrowed in concern. "This isn't a T-1000 thing, is it?"

Ok, I was beginning to feel like the only one who hadn't been invited to some kind of worldwide party, and I could only hope the look I was giving them conveyed that feeling.

"Uh, it's from a movie," Hardison explained hastily. "Killer robot made of liquid metal, it steals the looks of other people so it can get close to you."

"And it kills them?"

"Yeah."

"Dopplegangers and Veils don't work like that. If you're copying someone's look, you need them close at hand so you can refresh the illusion regularly. And if it's just a quick thing, they're not gonna care. It would even make things easier if he looked like Parker's friend while stealing the painting -"

"Portrait," Sophie murmured.

"- portr- there's a difference?"

"Small but crucial. In any case, he could have blamed Jessamine, so it benefitted him to leave her alive."

"Exactly."

"Cameras can't see him," Hardison protested. "Tech overclocks and explodes, there'd be no evidence."

"Wouldn't matter if he had witnesses. No one would be looking for another culprit when they had one right there already. Besides, you can look at a Veil, Hardison. It's them you can't look at. The Veil's what comes out blurry." He gave me such a look. "Go on. I bet if you look at any footage from the vault, you won't see him, not until the very end, when we got out, but it also won't blow up your computer. Go ahead. Triple dog dare you."

I could see the challenge hit him, and caution war with curiosity. Hardison was a deeply curious man. Like me, he wanted to know what made the world tick. I did it with magic, he did it with his computers. Potato potahto.

"I swear, Dresden, if I lose another screen…" He moved over to the desk, revealing a keyboard in one of them and activating the central screen.

"Dresden, could I have the envelope, please?" Ford requested. I pulled the feathers out and handed it over. It was plain, coarse, with some sort of engraving on the front. "What about the mirror shards?"

What about those, indeed. I had an idea, but I wasn't sure it was going to work. Not to mention I didn't have the skill or the know-how to pull it off in a hurry. "Can any of you make jewelry? It doesn't have to be fancy, just… sturdy, I guess."

Sophie suddenly gasped. "Does it still work?"

"Fingers crossed that it does." She'd already seen the shape of what I planned. "Magic mirrors aren't automatically connected. They're like a phone - you call a number, connect from one mirror to another. That spell's gone, shattered when the mirror did. But the mirror itself, that's still magic. Heavy-duty magic. There's one number it can still call."

Ford shifted minutely and for just a second I saw the real man behind the slightly rumpled, harmless facade, all ice and fury and single-minded focus. "So the shards can talk to one another?"

"Yup."

He dug a handkerchief out of his own pocket, spread it on his hand and put it out. I surrendered the shards without question. "No silver. Platinum would be best. Gold will do in a pinch."

"Mm. 'Not long' isn't a very precise quantity, Dresden."

"Look, Ford, I ran my magic empty. That first blow the man in black threw? It ate everything I had. All of the fight after, that was me talking Boston at him. To create a scrying glass, I have to empower it, to empower it I need magic, to get magic I need some rest -"

"Ah, so you mean tomorrow." God, the man couldn't even let me get properly angry at him! I'd have mustered a surly growl if he didn't look pleased at having a deadline, rather than angry that I wasn't about to pull an all-nighter. "That's fine. Will your… circles hold until then?"

"I hope so. I think so. But this guy's swinging a lot of power. I'll feel much better when I have everything behind a proper circle - the brass piping's for that. And I'm probably going to go down there and tape the key to the Witchwell now, rather than later -"

"You win, Dresden," Hardison called out from across the room, and every head turned toward him. He had three screens active, all of them showing what I was pretty sure was security footage no one outside the cops ought to have.

The others gathered around him. I sat down on the couch and rubbed my dog's ears. He snored at me. Ah, to be loved.

I tried to follow the conversation going on around the screens, but I hadn't lied to Ford: I was beyond exhausted, scraped clean to the bone. I could feel power seeping back into me, but again, it wasn't the firepower that worried me so much as the fact every bone in my body ached just to think of doing even the most minimal spellwork.

I snapped awake to a hand on my good shoulder. "Dresden."

For a moment nothing made sense. The air felt wrong, the man looking down at me was a stranger. I didn't know who I was, who he was, what we were doing, where we were.

So I didn't think to look away.

For a moment, all I saw were chains.

A Soulgaze is dangerous when you're prepared, let alone when you're not expecting it. It's not going to show you any deep dark secret about a person, or what they think of themselves, or anything like that. It's the truth of them, clean of all the masks that culture and society puts on us, all the lies we tell ourselves. It can be an interesting insight into someone's personality, or history.

There were chains everywhere, some corroded, some fresh, some shattered and haphazardly piled up here and there on a vast plain of ice. They all came from nowhere, moving sedately, like the coils of some unseen beast, to wrap around a massive block of ice. Their motion filled the air with whispers, a hundred, a thousand voices, all pleading for help. There was a man trapped inside the ice, and as soon as the chains reached him they changed, turning into lines of light, splitting, dividing, multiplying, rushing away like immense fractal trees along the ice. Each line was a whisper, a word, an image. There were gaping holes in the ice block, as if something had struck it and shattered it, threatening to free the man inside it.

The man was Nathan Ford.

I threw myself back and away from the Soulgaze so hard I fell off the couch. I heard, vaguely, Ford staggering back and crashing into the kitchen bar.

"Nate!" Sophie rushed at him.

I'd fallen on my bad shoulder. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to be awake. Mouse was licking my face, whining anxiously. "Dresden, you alright?" That was Eliot. Two pairs of hands caught me and forced me up, back on the couch. "What happened?"

"I told you." I had to get the words out, even if my throat felt full of ice. "You all trust too easy. You shouldn't look a wizard in the eyes like that."

"Sophie, I need a drink," Ford croaked from the kitchen stool. It was tendered to him in record time.

"Do you want a drink?" Parker asked me, utterly serious.

"Coffee," I managed. I didn't sound any better than Ford. She brought me a cup and I drank, and the silence went on for a good few minutes.

"Dresden." Ford sounded so mild. I knew better. I knew what the ice hid. "What did you do?"

"Soulgaze. Little gift of True Sight. If I stare too long into someone's eyes I get a peek into their soul… and they get a peek into mine. One time only. Not gonna happen again, not with you."

It wasn't gonna happen with any of them, not the moment Ford decided I was too much of a liability to keep around. I have done things I know have put scars on me. I'm carrying sins I can never forgive myself for, can never atone for. I had no way of knowing what he'd seen, but I knew it was neither pretty nor reassuring.

Well, at least I had the one day's paycheck to look forward to.

"Parker," Ford said, his voice still full of that calm, mild tone. "You and Eliot take Dresden to the safehouse. Make sure he actually goes to bed, not to do more work."

"What about the death bottle?" she asked. Which was an excellent question, I just wasn't thinking about it at the time because I wasn't sure I was hearing Ford correctly.

"He was just going to tape the key to it, right? I trust you two can do that without reading the thing or taking it out of the circle."

"Ford -"

"We'll talk tomorrow. I think that's enough of… all this for one day," he declared, his voice going brittle before he charged up the stairs and out of sight.

#fantasy #fanfiction #my writing #urban fantasy #crossover #leverage #the dresden files #harry dresden #nathan ford #parker #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #eliot spencer

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