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five-rivers · 3 years

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Beltane

Written for Ectober 2021 Day 1: Trick vs Treat. This is part of the Exhumed series.

Danny Fenton walked into the precinct. As often happened when he did this, all attention slowly turned to him. “Hi, Detective Patterson. Have you ever heard of Beltane?”

Patterson took a long swig of coffee through the plastic stir straw, because she felt the need to be at least a little drugged before dealing with whatever this was, and then said, “Is this the kind of thing the whole precinct needs to know about, or is it more specific to me?”

“Mm, not specific to you, but I’m not sure if everyone needs to know about it, yet.”

Despite only select members of the Amity Park police force knowing Danny Fenton had another identity, he’d become a sort of ‘ghost liaison’ for the precinct. Better him than the adult Fentons, who tended to break things even (especially) when they were being careful.

“Actually,” continued Danny, “you might have already noticed some things about it. I mean, it’s seasonal, and Mom and Dad were detecting ectoenergy and ghost activity spikes for events like this before they got the portal up and running. Although, the portal was supposed to stabilize and reduce those spikes… I guess reducing one isn’t bad?”

“Okay,” said Patterson. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about. Do you want me to go find Collins?”

“Oh, that might be a good idea.”

“Great,” said Patterson. She turned her head to shout across the room. “McGee. Go find Collins.”

“Still the new guy?” asked Danny, sympathetically.

“It isn’t like we’re a popular posting,” said Patterson, “and, thanks to the ghosts, we don’t really need new people.”

Danny nodded placidly. “I know. But it must be hard for him, don’t you think?”

McGee had done his job. He’d discovered the corruption in the Amity Park Police Department and plumbed its depths. The problem was that he could never, ever, report it. Even if they didn’t have a perfectly good cause for it all, what they were ‘hiding’ (and they were only barely doing that) was so ridiculous that McGee had thought he’d gone crazy at first.

Ghosts.

The whole of Amity Park was haunted. Just like it said in those touristy brochures at the front of the local diners.

He stuck his head into the break room. “Collins, Patterson and Fenton want you,” he said.

“In the normal room?” Collins asked, shoving a sugary monstrosity of a donut into his mouth.

“I have no idea. She didn’t say.”

“Normal room then. Great job, McGee.”

McGee rolled his eyes. Great job, he said. As if he’d done anything.

God. What would Halloween be like?

“So, it’s like, reverse Halloween?” asked Patterson.

“Well, not exactly,” said Danny. He patted Daisy, the department mascot slash corpse sniffing dog who had followed them into the small interview room, gently on the head. “Actually, there are more similarities than differences. Basically, like Halloween, we’re going to get a spike in ectoenergy. Maybe even some ectoplasmic storms. More portals. That kind of thing.” He shrugged. “Most holidays and seasonal divisions have them, you know.”

“So… we’re getting Halloween round two?” asked Collins.

“What do you bet that this is what gets McGee to snap?”

“He’s been here since December,” said Collins. “I think he’s too stubborn to leave.”

“Is he still spying?” asked Danny.

“No,” said Patterson, waving a hand. “He gave up on that, after a while. But there’s a new office bet about whether or not he’ll stay stay, or if he’ll decide to quit. We’re not allowed to join in because we know him too well.”

“Mm,” said Danny.

“I don’t actually know if I feel like I know him that well,” said Collins.

“Well,” said Danny, “it shouldn’t be as extreme as Halloween. Since, I mean, there aren’t as many religious holidays directly associated with death and stuff happening on or around May first. So. Yeah. But the thing is, there are some traditional, er, activities. Spirited activities.”

Collins suppressed a groan, and was glad that Captain Jones wasn’t available today. He and Danny could sling puns at each other for obscenely long periods of time.

“I’ve never noticed ghosts doing anything on May Day,” said Patterson.

“This is only the third year anyone’s even acknowledged that ghosts exist,” said Danny, “so I’m not really all that surprised. But the reason that I came to talk to you guys is that some of the ghosts want to do Beltane stuff. Like the fire blessings. Also, I’ve been told that some of the trees in town are secretly ghost trees, and if we don’t want to deal with another tree army, we need to do some stuff to appease them.”

“Secret ghost trees.”

“My source is very reliable,” said Danny. “Also, while I say ‘we don’t want to deal with it,’ I think we all know who’d be dealing with most of it.”

“You would,” said Patterson.

“Got it in one. Like, I can convince most of the ghosts to either do their Beltane stuff in the Ghost Zone, or somewhere out of the way. They’ll be disappointed, but I can do it. The ghost tree thing, though…”

“Can’t we just, I don’t know,” said Collins, “get rid of the ghost trees?”

“Well, they aren’t really evil ghost trees. Or even really ghost trees. They’re more… ghosts that live in trees?”

“What, like dryads?” asked Collins, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s what I said, but they’re different species, apparently.”

“Okay,” said Patterson, “so. Appeasing the trees. How many trees are we talking about here, and how are we going to appease them?”

“Okay, so, this is definitely a whole precinct kind of thing,” said Patterson.

“And possibly an ‘all civil servants’ type of thing,” added Collins. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where are we going to get the funding for this?”

“Oh, don’t worry about money,” said Danny. “I’ll just blackmail Vlad, and if that doesn’t work, I can get Mom and Dad to pay for it.”

“What,” said Collins.

“I think this might be a bit beyond your parents’ budget,” said Patterson, “but knock yourself out as far as Masters goes.”

“Well, I guess if it is,” he allowed, dubiously, “I could get the cults to pitch in?”

“This is nice,” said Danny. The sky was a bit overcast, which was a shame, but the hundreds of bright flowers and cheerful music more than made up for that.

The May Day celebration was, in Danny’s opinion, a success. At least, this half of it was turning out to be. He’d have to wait and see how the Spirit Bonfires went tonight before he could really make a judgement.

He’d only had to blackmail Vlad a little, too. It turned out that the ‘ruthless businessman’ in Vlad was ludicrously easy to manipulate, and once Danny brought up how a celebration like this one could revitalize local businesses and bring in tourism, he’d caved.

Although, that might have been the threat of an angry tree army. Vlad had definitely come off worse for wear in the last one, on all fronts.

Then, publically putting the Phantom Stamp of Approval (and Necessity Given The Potential Angry Tree Army) on the event had gotten buy-in from his fans and (sigh) the cults. The cults were, in fact, very enthusiastic about their new Holy Day. Danny had made a map of all the places they’d set up booths, and was studiously avoiding them.

Sam and Tucker were doing a walkthrough of that area, now, to check for problems and unadorned thorn trees. They’d arranged to meet up soon.

So, Amity Park was decked out in ribbons and flowers. All of the schools had gotten Maypoles and the day off of classes. Several bands, both human and ghostly, were playing in different parts of town.

It was chaotic, but great.

Danny briefly cut into the street to dodge a pair of college-age men play-fighting with tree branches (a genuinely important tradition symbolizing the battle between winter and summer), then walked through a wall to avoid two ghosts doing the same thing.

Finally, he reached Madame Babazita’s table.

“Hi,” he said, “three readings, please.”

“Three?” she asked. “Just for you?”

“My friends should get here before mine’s done,” said Danny. Was he channeling some predictive powers? Maybe. Holidays did make his powers weird.

“I have no idea what your reading is saying,” said Madame Babazita, after fifteen full minutes. “The cards simply aren’t speaking to me today. Also,” she held up an Uno card, “I’m not sure how this even got here.”

“That’s okay,” said Danny, “I just wanted to make sure it was the same as last time.”

“Hey! Phantom!” called Ember across the crowd of ghosts that had gathered in the cemetery. Most of them were fire or nature themed. “You’re in for a treat!”

Danny, who had been examining the flowers left on his grave, looked up. “I am?”

Ember draped her arm around Danny’s shoulder. She’d been a lot more friendly with him since the corpse incident. “Sure are.” She stepped up onto the surface of his memorial, pulling him up behind her. Danny shook off a brief chill and looked around.

Ghosts were streaming into the cemetery from various directions, bringing armfuls of flowers with them. Danny could see two, huge bonfire piles of flowers growing near the cemetery gates.

“Are there going to be cows?” asked Danny, who was still fuzzy on the details of the ghostly side of the celebrations.

“I don’t know,” said Ember. “When I’ve seen this done in the GZ there are. Here? Who knows. Maybe we’ll just walk through.”

Danny nodded, unworried. Beltane sure was an interesting holiday.

The last armful of flowers was placed, and every flower in the cemetery caught on fire at once. Including the ones on Danny’s grave. Danny yelped, jumping into flight. As an ice core ghost, he vastly preferred cold to heat.

This went without saying, but fire was very hot.

Ember grabbed his foot, and he almost kicked her. “You knew that was going to happen,” he accused.

“Sure did, babypop,” said Ember, grinning. “Come on, don’t you want to pass through the bonfires?”

Danny eyed the very large bonfires on either side of the cemetery gates. They were lit up with sparks like fireworks, shifting like flowers blooming and withering and blooming again. They were beautiful and impressive, and Danny felt like melting just by looking at them.

“I don’t know…” He wanted to, but… melting…

“Well, if you want to go out the other way and be horribly unlucky for the next year…”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “Is that another trick?” he asked.

Ember’s grin grew wider, and she took off towards the gates. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Danny sighed and followed her.

“Unbelievable,” said McGee. “Absolutely unbelievable.” He gave the elderly cultist a boost into the wagon.

“I know, right?” said Patterson. “All this property damage and a low-key kidnapping,” she gestured to the hapless late night partier who had called the police when the cult got too insistent about their message, “and they didn’t even have the good drugs?” She shook her head. “Not that we ever arrest anyone just for drugs in this town.”

“I did not just hear you say that,” muttered McGee.

“We’ll make an Amity Parker out of you yet,” said Collins, heartily, slamming the back door of the wagon. He thumbed the button on his radio. “Any other disturbances?” he asked.

“No, you’re good to come back,” said the dispatcher.

“What I don’t get,” said McGee, leaning against a nearby wall in a moment of weakness, “is why we aren’t breaking up whatever cult thing is happening in the cemetery.” They’d seen it quite clearly on their way here.

“Because those are ghosts,” said Patterson.

McGee took a deep breath. “The ghosts are having some kind of ritual in the cemetery, and you aren’t worried.”

“Not really, no.”

“I hate it here,” said McGee.

“Do you, though?” asked Collins, sounding genuinely interested in the answer.

McGee opened his mouth to snap back that, yes, he did. But…

Hm. Huh.

Collins patted him on the back.

#danny phantom #ectober #ectober 2021 #ectoberhaunt 2021 #ectoberhaunt trick #ectoberhaunt treat #ectoberhaunt day 1: trick vs treat #fic #fanfic #exhumed

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4ragon · 3 years

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Can't speak for anyone else but I for one would love an incoherent rant about the dark age of the law plotline

Alright buckle up kiddos.

So I have a lot of complaints with Dual Destinies as a whole. It’s a poorly paced mess, the final confrontation was deeply underwhelming, it has all these weird “Gotcha” moments where they put in the most bizarre, logic breaking plot twists and then undo them within ten minutes completely for shock value. And yet, despite all of these issues, there is nothing in this world that pisses me off more than the words “The Dark Age of the Law.”

I hate the Dark Age of the Law subplot more than literally any other thing in Ace Attorney. It is a complete failure of a story in literally every possible way. It not only doesn’t work within the context of Dual Destinies, it also completely flies in the face of everything we understand about the original trilogy! It!!!! Sucks!!!!

But no. That was too coherent. I think we should break this down.

First I’m going to start on a macro level. The Dark Age of the Law is the clearest indication to me that the writers of Dual Destinies never played another Ace Attorney game. They treat this Dark Age of the Law thing like this big bad, this shiny new toy, this never before seen wonder, but??? Corruption has been a CENTRAL part of every single AA game since game one!! Since case 2 even!!!

The Dark Age of the Law is this whole idea that people have lost their trust in the court system. And what do they site as the catalyst for this breaking of trust? Phoenix Wright’s disbarment and Simon Blackquill’s arrest.

And okay. Phoenix Wright’s disbarment is a reasonable one. Phoenix was sort of known for being this paragon of truth and justice, this man willing to do what it took to find the truth and protect people in need. His name being smeared through the mud could very well shake up the foundations of trust that the people had in the court system.

But Simon Blackquill? Simon FUCKING Blackquill shook up people’s faith in the court system?? Simon Blackquill is the reason that people are convinced that the entire system is full of lies and deceit? SIMON CONFESSED!! He didn’t even do anything corrupt!! He murdered a woman, sure, but he then immediately lets everyone know “Yes, I super did this murder. No one else.” And they treat it like it’s this big turning point??

LANA SKYE!! You guys remember Lana Skye? The Chief Prosecutor at the time, who was accused of murder, and who still went to prison for doing like a million other crimes after being blackmailed by the chief of police.

SPEAKING OF WHICH the fucking CHIEF OF POLICE was a murderous monster who blackmailed people and also murdered. Did that have no effect on people’s trust in the courts?

Manfred von Karma? Never lost a case in 40 years, literally everyone talked about how he and Miles were KNOWN to be corrupt? Also, you know, murdered a man in cold blood?

Blaise Debeste??? Chairman of the fucking ETHICS BOARD???????? Like!!! That’s some deep fucking corruption right there!!!! And he constantly talks about the mysterious disappearances around him of people who disagreed with him, does that not shake your faith?!

In Turnabout Sisters, as early as case 1-2, Redd White calls up the Chief Prosecutor (who also is not Lana, just to be clear) and demands his complicitness in covering up his own crimes. That’s how central corruption is to the entirety of Ace Attorney.

And you’re going to look me in the fucking EYES and tell me Simon Blackquill, some 21 year old nobody with no power or influence, who theoretically stabbed a woman and made no effort to cover that up, is the reason the courts have lost the faith of the people? You have the NERVE??? the AUDACITY??? the fucking GALL????? to tell me that SIMON is what caused this? The system was never trustworthy, and if it was, what the FUCK did Simon have to do with changing that???

Horrible. Terrible. Disgusting.

BUT

Let’s pretend for a moment that Dual Destinies existed in a vacuum. First Ace Attorney game you’ve ever played. Never touched another one in your life. If you were unfamiliar with the world that Ace Attorney has already spent six games establishing, does the Dark Age of the Law subplot hold up?

No. No it doesn’t.

So as I’ve said a million times before, it was clear that Dual Destinies should not have tried to juggle three protagonists. It just didn’t work. They learned their lesson and booted Athena out of that protagonist title in SoJ, and as much as I hated that decision, it was at least a much stronger overarching story for it.

Now. There were three main throughlines in Dual Destinies. Athena’s story centered on introducing her, of course, but it also was about her struggle to save a friend who needed saving from the law and also himself. It was very AA1 in that way.

Apollo’s story was a little harder to outline, because a lot of it is saved for the last couple of cases, but it’s really about his relationship with Athena. Coming to trust her, his trust in her being shaken, struggling to overcome that, grief, loss, yadda yadda, and I have my criticisms of how it’s handled, but that’s the gist of it.

And Phoenix needed a story. So they made up this stupid fucking bullshit garbage and dumped it in his lap and said “Here you go, best friend! Our dear money maker! This is what you’re working with!” And then they proceeded to use it to beat the shit out of Phoenix until he started spitting out dollar bills.

Okay no sorry I have no idea what the fuck I just said but liSTEN

The Dark Age of the Law storyline was clearly supposed to have some significant thematic relevance to the story, given how hard they were hammering it into us in case three. It was supposed to mean something, and I think it was supposed to mean something to Phoenix in particular. After all, he and Miles won’t stop TALKING ABOUT IT GOD MAKE THEM SHUT UP

The Dark Age of the Law subplot had nothing to do with that final case. Remove it, and nothing changes, because, again, Simon had nothing to do with the corruption in the first place, and the Phantom certainly had nothing to do with corruption. It’s so surface level. “Uh oh, people don’t like the courts. If you can solve this unrelated crime, everything will be fixed.” And then he does (also Athena should’ve been the one to win the case, but that’s a different problem) and nothing ever comes of it, other than “Hooray, you fixed the corruption!” He didn’t??? Miles what the fuck are you talking about????

If they had woven in the corruption throughout the story somehow, maybe it would’ve found some way to be impactful? But it was a floundering, half-thought-out subplot in an already bloated game that failed to give any meaning or help anyone develop as a character. Hell, it kept falling out of relevancy and only popped in to rear its head when the writers remembered it existed and decided to have yet another person remind us that THIS IS IMPORTANT GUYS NO REALLY.

Like! Okay. What if they tied it more to AA4? I mean Phoenix’s disbarment and subsequent return could’ve actually affected the plot. Have people actively mistrust Phoenix or something. Or maybe have it affect anyone in any way. Sure it divides the fucking high schoolers for that mess of a “power of friendship” storyline, but so could a plot about, I don’t know, electing a homecoming queen or something. It affected Athena for one case, but what did that even teach her other than “Trust your gut, sweetie, don’t do lawyer crimes!” Phoenix didn’t have an arc in this game, and he shouldn’t have had to, unless it was coming to grips with the fact that he was never going to get those 7 years of his life back and the smears against his character were always going to linger. But they didn’t do that, they just needed him in there for brand recognition.

I can handle a lot of bullshit in these bullshit lawyer games. That’s part of the appeal. But unlike most of the other bullshit, this particular threat was unsatisfying, meandering, and unnecessary.

#ace attorney #dual destinies #i love dual destinies guys really #but if miles says dark age of the law one more time #also was this coherent at all?#j #spoilers #meta

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maybebanks · 3 years

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Special Treatment

JJ Maybank x Y/N

You and JJ get busted and are forced to spend the night in jail. Only Y/n gets some much resented special treatment. Leaving JJ jealous.

“I can’t believe we got caught. I’m gonna be in so much shit for this,” JJ muttered, raking a hand through his messy blonde hair.

You felt very guilty, if it wasn’t for you, JJ wouldn’t have gotten caught trespassing. He was a faster runner than you, and you had tripped, resulting in a pathetic injury.

“Hey, are you good? I know you have that ‘3 strikes’ thing going on with Peterkin..and - oh shit Y/n! Your leg is bleeding,” JJ said, moving you to sit down so he could get a better look.

“It’s fine,” you protested, “and don’t worry about me. You have your dad to worry about,” you mentioned.

JJ frowned, “don’t remind me,”

You were familiar with this cell, though it was way better when shared with JJ. You were here just yesterday, busted for shop lifting.

It was clear you were rebelling. And JJ wanted to know why.

He was intrigued.

“When we get outta here...can we go separately?” you said softly.

“Why? I was hoping we could grab food at the Wreck...please...” he trailed off, grabbing both of your hands and trapping them in his.

“No...I mean..you know I get scared of your dad. And besides, my mom wants me home,” you admitted.

JJ frowned, “yeah. I know. You get all..shakey,” he shrugs.

“I do not!” You blurted, pushing one of his shoulders.

“Yes you do, you’re hands are like this,” JJ told you, then put his hand out and started moving his wrist to shake his hand at a fast speed.

“Oh fuck you,” you groaned.

“Sure I’m down,” JJ joked.

“What?” You gave him a dirty look.

“You know,” he smirked, then he leaned over to you and started rubbing your shoulders, “you like that? Uhhh!” He moaned.

“Shut up!! You dumbass! They’re gonna hear!!” You scolded him, shoving him off of you.

“Yeah and what would they think? You more of a handjob or a blowjob kinda girl?” he joked.

“Oh my god...okay you need to..to chill with the horny boy act, got it? I know you’re just trying to get at me..but I’m not in the mood,” you sighed. Standing up and walking towards the edge of the bars.

“I see blushing,” JJ pointed out, pointing to his own cheeks.

You rolled your eyes, looking the other way.

JJ raised his hands in defense, “I didn’t mean to offend you. Just wanted to lighten the mood. Maybe get this tension under wraps,”

“There is no tension.” You stated.

“There is with you. You’re super tense,” JJ added.

“I just...I have a lot going on,” you shrugged.

“Wanna..” JJ paused, kicking his feet against the concrete, “..talk about it?”

“No thanks...” you sighed, returning to sit next to him again.

“Whatever it is,” JJ placed a comforting hand on your thigh, “I’m sure you can handle it.” He said. He knew you weren’t going to tell him, so he decided to give you confidence.

You stared at his large hand on your thigh, his rings shining from the light through the windows.

You smiled softly. And he returned it.

Before he could say some dirty one liner, the cell door opened.

You and JJ stood up.

“Y/n, let’s go.” The officer directed. He wasn’t the usual one who dealt with the jail people, he was a patrol officer. He has blonde, short hair he was tall, and looked about 30-40 years old.

“But..what about-“ You began.

“Just you.” He stated, looking into your eyes.

You looked back at JJ, he just shrugged.

So you followed the police officer out of the cell, and waved goodbye to JJ.

The officers hand met your lower back as you walked with him through the station. He nodded at a few cops at desks, no one seemed to question him as he walked you out the front door.

As an excuse to get him to stop touching you, you turned around, asking him a question, “excuse me. What’s..what’s going on?” You asked nervously.

“How about I give you a ride home,” he suggested, pointing to a small cop car.

“My friend...in there, I can’t just leave him,” you said.

“Maybank kid. Yeah I saw his record. For some reason, Peterkin always looks the other way, something to pity, I’d assume,” the Officer explains.

You sighed, knowing exactly what he was talking about, JJs dad.

“I can..um I can walk home, thanks,” you told him, walking around him.

He grabbed your wrist gently, “if I hadn’t done what I did, you’d be spending your night in that cell. Let me give you a ride home,” he almost ordered.

You bit the inside of your lip, but he was a cop, what was he gonna do? Kill you. Please. You shouldn’t be afraid of him.

You nodded, and he smiled, directing you to his car.

You attempted to get in the back seat, but he scolded you, and told you that you should sit in the front.

He drove you home, and parked in your driveway.

“I’ll walk you inside, make sure everything’s okay,” he said.

“Sir, I’m alright, it’s like 20 feet away,” you said, but he ignored you.

When you got to the front door, you knocked, him by your side.

Your mother answered, shocked, and quite unhappy at the sight.

“What did she do?” Your mother sighed, you looked at the floor.

“Ma’am, I’m officer Darren Wilden, we’ve met before, I was just escorting your daughter from the jail cell. Would’ve spent the night there, if I hadn’t got her out of there,” he told her.

You groaned.

Stepping up and heading inside, past your mom. She would have surly yelled at you, but she was now distracted by the officer.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

Retiring to your room was not a great as you thought, you could hear your mother laugh at Officer Wildens stupid jokes, she even made dinner for him. So you put in headphones, falling asleep to your favorite playlist.

You woke up at your usual time, to spend the Saturday with the pogues. Excited, you headed downstairs for breakfast, still in your pajamas. You missed dinner last night, and were craving a muffin or something.

You entered the kitchen in slow steps, hearing someone cooking bacon or something. Your mom never cooks.

“Mom?” You asked, but your question was quickly answered.

Wilden was standing in your kitchen, shirtless, a white towel wrapped around his waist.

“Oh my gosh,” you blinked in shock. What hell was this?

“Good morning. Want any eggs?” He said nonchalantly. Standing near the fridge.

You scoffed. Walking around him, “no thanks,”

A few seconds later, your mother walked in.

She studdered, “uh Darren, why don’t you head upstairs, I’ll take care of breakfast,”

He nodded, “yeah sure,” and left the kitchen.

“What does he live here now?” You said sarcastically to your mom.

“Give me a break, honey....” your mother sighed.

“Yeah..whatever. I’m going to John B’s,” you said bluntly, then hastily left the house.

Once joining the group, you were basically silent the whole time.

“So! Y/n, how was jail?” Kie asked, smiling.

“How..how did you know?” You asked, “JJ you literally suck at keeping ur mouth shut,”

“What?!” He laughed, “I used to be brag about corrupting the good girl. But now your a convict just like me,” JJ shrugged, implying that you shouldn’t care.

Truly you just didn’t want to be traced back to Wilden, you hated that connection you now had. Could it even turn into blackmail? It just made you sick.

“Did you know JJ was in that cell for 24 hours longer than y/n! That’s some sexism right there,” John B mentioned.

“Don’t joke about that, dude,” Pope scolded.

“What? It’s true.” He defended.

“Wait...JJ, your dad didn’t show up to-“ you were surprised he had spent the night in the cell.

“Yeah. They didn’t even call him. For some reason, you got special treatment,” JJ said, nudging your arm.

That’s when it hit you. Your mother probobly did this to keep you out of jail. You felt sick. Horrible of what you had to done to make your mother do what she did.

“Whoa...you okay Y/n/n?” JJ asks, nudging you again.

You flinched at his nudge, but tries crossing your arms to cover it up.

You didn’t answer.

“You got all pale,” Pope added.

“Y/n/n, are you okay?” JJ repeated.

“I need some air,” you blurted, then jumped up and walked away from the group out on the doc.

“But we are outside,” JJ grumbled.

“JJ go talk to her,” Kie suggested.

“Me? She doesn’t wanna talk to me,” JJ shut down.

“Yes, she does. Now talk to her,” Kie demanded.

JJ grumbled curses to himself, he didn’t like to go be forced into things. And he didn’t want you to see him as a guy who didn’t know what to say.

JJ took off his hat and fumbled with it, “I really don’t mind...the uh extra jail time. But if you were there...I could’ve asked you if your-“

“Jesus, JJ,” you sighed.

“What did I do?” JJ asked, sitting down text to you on the dock.

“It...it’s everything. Like...I don’t want you here, so leave,” you insulted. You really wanted him to stay, but not give him the opportunity to find out how dishonestly you got out of jail.

“Okay. Easy, done,” JJ stated. But instead of getting up and leaving you in the dust, he moved closer to you, his knee touching yours.

You started to cry, why did he care? The tears were falling so fast you missed a few falling down your cheek. One landing on JJ’s knee.

“She...I can’t..it’s just stupid. And I hate myself.” You stuttered. Between gasps.

JJ put his arm around you, “why?”

“Because... she,” you said quietly, “slept with him,”

JJ frowned, distancing you from him slightly, “the cop?! Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you said disappointedly.

“God damn, Y/n.” He said shaking his head.

“Please don’t tell anyone, J. I don’t really know why I told you. I just I can trust you,” you sighed.

“Yeah...uh okay Y/n. I’m uh I’m gonna go,” he shrugged, then stood up.

“W-wait! I need you J, where do you have to go?” You asked innocently.

“Look, if you think I’m okay with this? I’m not. Sex with a cop? Are you fucking kidding? What about us? All summer!” JJ exclaimed.

“Hold on-“ you attempted to explain, because JJ thought it was you.

“No. You know what. I feel like shit for ever opening up to you. I need some space from you.” He said disgustedly.

You started balling again, “JJ. It wasn’t me! What’s wrong with you!” You said, deeply offended by that accusation. Both you and jj had slightly developed feelings for eachother, but denied them the whole summer.

No one ever acted on them.

“What’s wrong with me? You’re the slut!” JJ shouted.

“Excuse me?!” You screamed back, offended.

JJ sighed, he took off his red baseball hat and threw it on the ground.

“To me, Y/n, a slut sleeps with someone to get something out of it. And that’s what you fucking did,” JJ retaliated.

“Fuck you. It wasn’t even me,” you mumbled, walking past him and down the driveway.

You didn’t want to go home. You were planning on spending the night at John B’s, but JJ really hurt you.

JJ replayed the conversation in his head, trying to figure out what he missed.

He regretted shitting on you, name calling. That wasn’t him, and it certainly wasn’t you.

You never explicitly told him it was your mom, but JJ believed you, that it wasn’t you. Now you just needed to talk.

You arrived at your house after walking for nearly an hour. But you couldn’t go in, not when you saw a cop car parked outside.

This angered you. How could he be here again? How could your mother do this?

Suddenly, a car drove up behind you. You were afraid to look. In case it was another cop.

“Hey, Y/n,” you heard JJ’s voice call.

You were stubborn, so you didn’t turn around.

“I shouldn’t have called you that shit. And I shouldn’t have let you leave. Wanna...let me apologize with dinner? On me,” JJ beamed, pleading.

“That would be nice,” you fought a smile, hopping in the passenger seat next to him.

more JJ reads!

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house-of-cakes · 3 years

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Jamais Vu

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

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Chapter 14: Consider it Done 😇

Jungkook x Reader: enemy to lovers AU

Word count: 1505

Warnings: Swearing and Jungkook is the official president of the “I hate Y/N” Club

Premise: “There’s an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It’s when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger… Nothing is ever familiar” – Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

AKA Jungkook goes in search of the girl who got him expelled.

Author’s note: There’s a slight error in the dates for this chapter. All of the dates should read for the month of February and not January. I think my social media app had a meltdown and I realised too late 😅.

If you would like to give feedback or be tagged in this story please send me an ask/message 😊

Tagged list: @inspinkyring @betysotelo18 @kardia-apo-marmelada @casspirit0705 @preciouschimine @therealsugababe @lucedelsole97 @deolly @lexy9716 @thesweetest-peas

STORY CONTINUED BELOW THE CUT

Y/N climbed the stairs to the balcony and scanned the area for her intended target. She smirked to herself when she found the ash-blonde bombshell sitting by herself and made her way over to her.

She plopped herself beside the girl and let out an overexaggerated sigh of relief. She leaned her arm on the back of the couch and rested her face in her palm. Y/N positioned herself so that her body was turned towards the girl and waited for her to look up from her phone to notice her presence.

The girl grunted in annoyance at the disturbance and looked up from her phone, ready to tell off the stranger who had interrupted her peace. The girl swallowed the dry lump that had formed in her throat once she realised who was sitting next to her.

She was in deep shit and she knew it.

It was common knowledge that Y/N never socialised outside of her friendship group and when she did it was never for a good reason.

“Hey! How’s your night going?” YN’s voice and smile was so sugary sweet which was a totally contradicted the dark and piercing look in her eyes. “You must be having a great time, I’ve been seeing you up top a lot lately.”

“U-u-h yeah.” She stammered as she racked her braining trying to recall what she had done wrong to get on Y/N’s bad side like this.

“I bet you thought you’d be able to come in here, bat those cute little doe eyes a few more times and soon enough you’d be securing a permanent spot on the balcony, right?” The girl sat up straighter and shook her head trying to deny the accusations.

“No tha-”

Y/N cut her off before she could explain

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame you for using your looks… I of all people know how far a pretty face gets you in a place like this” Y/N’s hand reached out to play with the ends of her short hair that perfectly framed her face. “But don’t think for a second your beauty act is convincing anyone that you’re anything more than a filthy thief.

“Is this because I like Tae?” the panic evident on the girls face “I promise I will leave him alone.”

YN realised why the blonde had chosen to sit where she did. From her spot she had a perfect line of sight of Taehyung where he sat with her friends and the rest of her brother’s crew.

“Nah, that’s not it. Although it did piss me off to hear that you were harassing Sunnie again the other day for his number” Y/N shrugged it off nonchalantly even if she was filled with excitement, she was literally working a job that took care of a criminal and a thirsty-ass social climber. “No that’s definitely not the reason why I’m coming after you…it sure does sweeten the deal though”

The girl started to sob, the jig was up. If Y/N exposed her for what she was she would be ruined.

If Y/N was aware about her sticky fingers she definitely knew about her other criminal activities. The girl knew that Y/N had her ways for digging up dirt on people and she was not afraid to expose them if it meant protecting her friends.

She once heard a rumour that an older guy was bullying Jimin. When Y/N demanded he stay away from her friend he laughed in her face and said she wouldn’t dare touch him as he was the son of the local police chief. When the guy refused to listen to her warning, she got the guy expelled then exposed his father for his corrupt ways and got him fired.

“People are going to assume I’m exiling you because your one of Tae’s groupies and by all means feel free to continue that narrative...You’ll get to protect your innocent persona and people will continue to see how far I will go for my best friends.”

“You’re a crazy bitch! You know that right?!” she cried out

“Yes, I do and the more people who know that the better.” Y/N needed people to believe this take down was motivated by her dislike for groupies and not for the actual reason. She was very diligent in keeping the Magic Shop’s identity concealed and didn’t want her role as the Shop Keeper to be apparent.

“You can’t banish me!”

“Ahh you see, that’s where you’re wrong...I keep management very happy by keeping the Basement a trash free zone and they thank me by letting me do whatever the fuck I want.”

Y/N snapped her fingers in the air and pointed down to the girl next to her and immediately a security guard rushed over to throw the girl out.

“Thank you, Bounce.” Y/N offered her favourite bouncer a playful smile as she waved condescendingly to the disgraced girl.

From his spot next to Jin, Jungkook’s mouth fell open in shocked as he witnessed Y/N having an innocent girl thrown out. He thought whole scene was a disgusting display of an abuse of power.

“What the hell was that?!” Jungkook leaned over to whisper in Jin’s ear. He was very aware of the crowd he was sitting with and didn’t want to her brother or friends to overhear him.

“What was what?” Jin tore himself from the conversation he was having with Yoongi to answer him. Both of them turned their attention to him and waited for him to explain what he was going on about. When Jungkook didn’t answer immediately, Yoongi got the hint that the conversation was intended to be shared between the two cousins and turned to initiate conversation with Namjoon. Jungkook paused a moment longer, insuring the conversation was completely private before nodding his head in Y/N’s direction.

“Y/N just pointed at a girl and a bouncer came out of now where and threw her out!”

“Oh, that?” He replied nonchalantly, he hardly believed the question was so important that he needed to stop his conversation he was having with Yoongi. “You just saw your first Y/N take down.”

Jungkook’s face twisted in disgust at his cousin’s total lack of concern.

“How are you ok with that?!”

Jin shrugged in response.

“It’s not like she does it all the time or without reason. The people she kicks out are normally girls harassing Tae or Sunnie. She’s very protective and that’s what actually makes her a really good friend.”

Jungkook hated how quick Jin was to always defend this girl. From the moment she got him kicked out of the Basement to the time she kicked his ass at Reload, he saw no redeeming qualities in her. He thought the way she carried herself was rude and arrogant and the more he thought about how people let her get away with being a spoilt brat the more he grew irritated.

“Uh…what about the time she got me kicked out? What did I do to her then?!”

“I hate to break it to you kid but from what you told me…you bumped into her and Bounce kicked you out…she never asked him to do that”

“Everyone kisses the ground she walks on. She’s such a spoilt princess!” Jin’s face hardened at the hostility in Jungkook’s voice. He noticed the ever-increasing negativity towards Y/N and it was begging to wear his patience thin.

Jin was aware that Jungkook was very popular at his old school and he believed that through his former popularity he had grown accustomed to the arrogance that came with being a part of the highest social standing.

Things worked differently here and although the scene was growing quite fond of him, there was a lot Jungkook needed to learn.

It was easy to misunderstand Y/N. It was even easier to believe this imagine that Basement portrayed of her. From the years that he had been Namjoon’s best friend he had come to see past the preconceptions that followed Y/N along.

Y/N didn’t need to be protected by anyone, much less Jin but he helped Jungkook get into the Basement and he, himself would gladly get his cousin kicked out if that’s what is needed for him to be humbled.

“Cut it out, Jungkook.” Jin’s voice was stern. It was very rare for Jungkook to see Jin call him by his name. The way he spoke to him was much like a parent scolding a child throwing a tantrum.

“But Hyung -” He went to continued however the sentence was lost when the group erupted in cheers as Y/N made her way to the group.

“Hey fam!” she greeted everyone then plopped herself into Taehyung lap. Jungkook watched as she threw her arm around his neck and beckoned her friends closer to her. She whispered to the group and when they pulled back their faces were plastered with smiles.

Jungkook shook his head in disapproval.

Everyone else may be able to be fooled by her pretty face but he would not.

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Long & Lost

Pairing: Leone Abbacchio x Reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Abbacchio, obsession, stalking, mentions of violence, allusion to kidnapping and forced marriage.

Words: 5445.

Summary: You needed to call him, you told yourself firmly and grabbed the phone, trying to stay determined. You needed to at least figure out if Abbacchio were alive and well. In the end, nobody forced you to tell him he had a son in that very moment, right? You'd tell him if he proved he deserved to know.

_______________________

Holding a crumpled piece of paper with Libeccio's number on it in your hand, you looked at the phone in front of you and sighed, unsure what to do. You'd heard Abbacchio was seen in that restaurant multiple times, so there really was a chance of you finally finding him, but you didn't know if you needed it that desperately. You knew what he had been through, and you doubted there was anything left of the man you loved once. But then you glanced at the photo of you little son on your desk and thought that your child deserved to have a chance to know his father - that is, if Leone would be willing to see his own child. Otherwise you'd have to come up with some sad story of your lovely boyfriend dying before he could get to know his son just like your mother advised you multiple times.

You little boy Dante was two years old now, and despite all the hardships related to raising him on your own, Dante still was your joy and pride. You realized you were pregnant almost right after Leone broke up with you: that time you were just a student with little to no means of support, and it hit you hard but you decided to keep your child, nevertheless. You couldn't bring yourself to get rid of him, and now you were thankful to that innocent young girl for the decision she made. Dante was your world.

But the older he got, the more you thought what would happen when one day he would ask you where's his dad. All children have a dad, haven't they? Then he should have one, too. You feared that moment, knowing you barely could tell your son the truth: your father doesn't even know about your existence.

By the time you decided to keep your child, Abbacchio already got himself in troubles, getting mixed up with some street thugs. You heard his partner even died because Leone couldn't pull the trigger, afraid those thugs gonna report him to police. Was it all true? You wanted to know it so desperately you went to see him in a detention facility, but Abbacchio you met weren't his old self. He was just a shadow of a man he'd been once, and despite all your efforts he remained broken, silently awaiting for the court to give him the punishment he deserved. You realized you were going to raise your child all alone, but it didn't deter you. In fact, when Leone finally got out, you even tried contacting him again and sending him some money until he figured things out. Of course, when you found out he spent all those money on cheap wine, you stopped doing it - your baby needed you more than him. After that you dropped all your attempts to keep in contact with the father of your child, and he had never learnt about Dante. It's for the best, your mother were telling you over and over again. A child doesn't need a dad who can't take care of himself, less of his family. Besides, was Abbacchio even as good as you imagined him to be? He was as corrupted as all those cops he hated so much while being in a police academy, your mother reminded you. Maybe she was right.

Dropping out of school to provide for your son, you had been through six kinds of hell in the last three years. There wasn't a job you hadn't done: scrubbing floors, delivering pizza, running errands for wealthy families, selling flowers and cheap makeup... and on top of it you had to take care of your child having no knowledge how to do it properly. Thankfully, your mother was there to give you a hand, and you were grateful for her help even if she had been scolding all the time for ruining your life so early. Did you know how hard it would be for you to get married, she asked you all the time while you were getting home late at night, tired to death. Do you realize people are calling you rotten behind your back because your son has no father, she kept saying over and over again trying to make you guilty, but you learnt not to listen. What's done is done. Who cares what people say if they will find a reason to humiliate you one way or the other?

You kept working, changing jobs and slowly getting a better salary, finding yourself a better place: you were now working as a manager in a candy store, its owners a nice married couple old enough to be your grandparents. You earned enough to live decently, and now you could afford buying your son new clothes instead of asking your friends and acquaintances for something their own kids and brothers wore once. Signora Russo, the one who was in charge of the store, treated you kindly, ready to give you some time off if Dante needed to be taken to doctor or somewhere else important. You also worked close to home, and if anything happened you could always storm off, telling the store clerk you'd be gone for a half an hour or so.

Life was good to you, you thought, your baby's bright smile making you feel much better in an instant. Dante had Leone's eyes, his hair of the very same shade.

You needed to call him, you told yourself firmly and grabbed the phone, trying to stay determined. You needed to at least figure out if Abbacchio were alive and well. In the end, nobody forced you to tell him he had a son in that very moment, right? You'd tell him if he proved he deserved to know.

"I'm looking for Leone Abbacchio." You said to the man on the other end of that phone, shivering from the thought you might really hear him the next minute. Shit, you really hoped he wasn't there.

"What is your name, Signora?" The stranger asked politely, and you were ready to drop the phone and run to the other room where your son was already laying asleep in his tiny bed,

Clenching your teeth, you told the man your name. Was Abbacchio really there? You ended up chewing phone's wire, that's how nervous you were, thinking what you were going to say and how he might react. Was he still bitter? Did he finally sort things out for himself? Did he stopped drinking? Was he going to accuse of not supporting him during his worst years?

"He is coming, Signora." The stranger told you calmly, and you felt your heart dropping somewhere to your stomach. Dio Mio, Leone was there. Those rumors were true, he was really there!

But before you mentally prepared yourself, you heard his low voice on the other side of the phone, his tone icy cold as if he wanted to never hear from you again. "Abbacchio."

You slowly got down on your chair with your palm rubbing your forehead tiredly. It seemed he was that very same Abbacchio who walked out the prison a couple of years ago, just a bit more sober this time. Funny, you thought things had changed for him, didn't you? You believed in people too much, that's what both your mother and Signora Russo would say, exchanging glances.

"Hi." You told him quietly, your eyes on the framed photo of your smiling son. "Haven't heard from you for a long time, Leone."

He let out a sound of irritation you knew a little too well, and you're very much aware he thought you're a traitor who left him behind when it had been him who broke up with you years ago. That was his problem, thinking people around had always owned him something, easily forgetting all the good things that were done for him once. You realized you were thinking about the same prior to a break up, wondering if your relationships were going to last if Abbacchio was going to behave the same way.

"What do you want? I don't have much time for you." He snorted, and despite you being so far from him during all that time, it still hurt so bad you clenched the phone in your hand, your eyes almost swelling with tears at his words. Did he felt better hurting you? You bet he did, having his revenge over someone who had nothing to do with him choosing his path. "Bucciarati's waiting for me, so be quick."

Bucciarati. He was referring to the man who had been seen with him, but you hoped it was just a rumor, too. You were well aware who Bucciarati was: all delivery guys and girls knew him and many other men with whom you shouldn't get mixed up. Passione was a power to reckon with even if you were talking about some low profile gangster who just got into a gang.

So, all those rumors were true. Abbacchio changed his side completely and joined mafia just like many other broken men before him. The next moment you realized how futile were your attempts to unite what you called a family in your dreams: were you really trying to let your child meet his father, a damn criminal who was probably murdering other people? Selling drugs? Beating the shit out of Passione's debtors? That was the man you wanted to entrust your beloved child?

"Sorry for bother." You said calmly, letting out a phone's wire you were getting close to torn into pieces. "I just wanted to know how you were."

"I'm good. Thanks for your concern." The man said before hanging up, and you staid frozen in your chair, listening to a dial tone. You were both sad and relieved at the same time, thinking how you had just saved your boy from so many troubles that would definitely arise if Leone knew he had a son. No, Dante didn't deserve a father like this. It wasn't his fault Abbacchio was long gone, and you weren't gonna spoil your child's life even if people would continue whispering your son was someone's bastard.

__________________

You didn't know the man got suspicious after your call, thinking you were up to something: he thought as low of you as of anyone he met prior to his encounter with Bucciarati. In Abbacchio's mind you all had betrayed him when he needed you the most, quickly disregarding your attempts to help him stay afloat with little money you had been sending him. Being extremely bitter, he felt the urge to dig up something about you, hoping you were in such deep shit you needed a help of a man like him. He was sure you were well-aware of his change of occupation, and it brought him a twisted satisfaction thinking of you whoring to him for his help. The only thing he found odd was that you didn't voice your plea. Did you get so scared of him you decided not to ask him for a favor? Abbacchio desperately wanted to know.

Finding out where you worked was an easy thing, and soon Abbacchio knew who you were now and how much you earned. It surprised him that you worked in a candy store: Leone remembered you were preparing to become a teacher. Did you drop out of university? He discovered you did. It was odd to him, remembering how eager you were to study. Why?

He found out the reason when he saw you walking with your baby boy during the weekend, Dante's tiny arm in yours as he was hurrying to the toy store window, then pressing his palms to the glace and watching a beautiful red toy train moving behind the window. The boy had his hair and his eyes. It wasn't hard to realize whose son that cheerful little boy was.

Abbacchio admitted with shame he wasn't prepared to it, quickly getting away as far as he could as if he couldn't look at the face of his own child. He had never thought something like that was possible: him? Being a father? Sure, Abbacchio wasn't a virgin, but the thought of someone having his child had never crossed his mind. At first he even tried thinking the child couldn't be his: how old the boy was? Wasn't he too young to be his son? By the time he was born Abbacchio had already been imprisoned.

"Doesn't mean she couldn't get pregnant while we still dated." He thought with shame, finding out Dante's birth date and realizing it was very much the reality.

Besides, his boy looked so much like him it was silly to pretend Dante wasn't Abbacchio's son. A part of him instantly got enraged with your decision to raise the boy on your own, not even letting his father know about his existence, but the man quickly cooled down, perfectly understanding why a drunkard he was then wouldn't make a good parent. You did nothing wrong. You even sent him money while you needed them much more than him.

Abbacchio still couldn't understand why you didn't abort an illegitimate child you weren't ready to bring up on your own - he wouldn't judge you if you did. You had been so young, almost a child yourself, barely able to take care of your own life while you had to provide for your son now. Your family wasn't rich, and he could imagine how much you struggled to stay afloat. Still, you kept your baby, your little boy you had been taking such a good care of: Abbacchio spied on you, stalking you while you walked with Dante or played outside, watching through your windows how you cooked and read him fairytales and tucked him to sleep. You were a good mother.

When Leone thought the only reason you called him was to let him know he had a son, he was ready to bang his head against a concrete wall. He knew why you ended up keeping quiet: he failed the test, talking to you as if he hated you to death and then mentioning Bucciarati's name. Bruno had been well-known in your area, and now you knew Abbacchio became a gangster. No mother would entrust her child to someone like him, and it had been his fault all alone, he realized that.

But he just couldn't leave you and his child without even acknowledging he knew he had a son. Even if Abbacchio wouldn't be the best father, he could still try his best: after Giorno became the next Don, he made Bucciarati's gang his own Unità Speciale, and Abbacchio was now a respected member of Passione with a fat wallet. With his help you could afford much more, moving to a more comfortable place, having better food and clothes, getting Dante to a better school once he grew up a bit. In the end, Leone could protect the both of you much better than you, just a simple woman who had to raise her son in a city full of criminals. He wasn't a drunkard with no goal but to drown out his day anymore.

That's why one day he showed up near the building where you lived, watching your mother taking her grandson and leading him to the apartment where you all lived while you hurried to the store to buy some food. He barely stopped himself from calling your mother, eager to take his boy in his hands, see his smile and chubby cheeks, ruffle his light grey hair and hear him laughing. No, Leone had to talk to you first, and it wasn't going to be easy.

Once you came back, a grocery bag in your hand, your face tired, he was waiting for you near a bench, and you flinched upon seeing him, your eyes getting wide. You surely didn't expect him to be there, least to give you something that almost looked like a smile.

Oh, you had a bad feeling about all that. Your hateful ex wouldn't just show up for no reason, you knew.

"Hello." He said surprisingly politely, and you started nervously chewing your lips. What did he want?

"Hello, Leone." You tried to keep your tone neutral to appear calm. "Good to see you looking well. Sorry, I'm in a rush, let's talk some other time."

Continuing to walk, you did your best passing him to hide in the hall of the building where you lived, but no one could brush off Abbacchio easily.

"I know." He said loudly as if he were afraid you would disappear before talking to him, almost ready to grab your arm but staying on his place when you stopped. "I know about him. About my son."

"He is my son." You roared like a lion, your hands clenched into fists when you turned your head to your former lover, but instead of getting intimidated or irritated the man felt proud: you were the best mother for his child Abbacchio could wish for.

"Of course."

There was no threat in his voice, and you relaxed a little, taking a deep breath and coming closer to the man still waiting for you near the bench. You didn't want to start a war, not with a man of Passione, unless Leone was going to take Dante away from you. You had to figure out what Abbacchio wanted.

"I haven't come here to steal the boy from you." He said, and you exhaled loudly, your palms shaking lightly. "I know you're a good mother."

You wanted to feel relieved, but something on the back of your mind told you Abbacchio wasn't there to compliment you and go away. He wanted something. What? Even if he knew you gave birth to his child, he had little to do with him now.

"I am." You admitted, unwilling to pretend to be polite anymore and hoping you'd get things sorted out before your mother started worrying about you. "Leone, what do you want?"

Your voice sounded harsh, and the man straigthen his back, getting closer to you: Abbacchio knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it wasn't your fault you wanted your child to be safe, thinking his father was a threat to him. It was up to Abbacchio to prove you he wasn't, eager to keep his boy safe and sound.

"Please, let me see him." He asked you, and you heard a plea in his voice. You couldn't remember when was the last time it happened. "I know what you think of me, and you're right about many things, but I want my child to know me."

"And what is he going to do with this knowledge?" You narrowed your eyes at your ex-boyfriend, rage boiling deep inside your chest. "What's it to Dante?"

"I will take care of him. And you."

Smirking, you shook your head, unable to believe him. Look, that son of a bitch was being so sweet to you now, pretending like meddling with his son's life wasn't a question of his enormous ego, that's what you thought. Did he really imagine you'd let him get close to Dante after you found out who he became?

"We don't need your help, thank you very much." You snorted, your fists clenched so tight it hurt you, nails digging into the skin.

"Then why did you call?"

Your eyes were getting wet as you chewed your lips to pieces, eating your lipstick and trying not to show the man your crying face. Abbacchio didn't deserve to see you like this. Of course, you shouldn't have called him. You desire to make things right only brought you more problems, as usual. It was even worse since now it concerned not only you but your baby, too. Dio Mio, why did you do it? Why did you try to talk to Abbacchio before finding out what he was doing now?

"To see if you got better." You said sarcastically, shaking your head in disbelief. "I thought I might tell you that you have a son, you know, if you sorted things out for yourself."

"I did." His voice sounded louder again when the man was getting emotional, both desperation and anger on his face. "I don't have an issue with drinking anymore. I don't even remember the last time I got drunk."

Taking a step back when he was dangerously close to you, you snorted, "Yeah, you just kill people now. Being a mafia's guard dog is so much better than being an alcoholic."

You could see Abbacchio getting furious, but you couldn't back down now when he was obviously determined to meet Dante despite all your warnings. Had he thought what it meant to be a son of a gangster? Did he imagine what his boy would have to go through just because his father belonged with Passione? You didn't care about his money or what Leone could give you, you were able to provide for Dante yourself. You couldn't, however, protect him against criminals who would come after him and you to have their revenge against Abbacchio. You'd have to watch your back all the time, but they would find a way to get to you, you were sure of it. Why didn't Abbacchio think about that? Was he so full of himself he thought he could protect your son at all costs?

Of course, it was his enormous ego again.

"I'm not gonna pretend my job has nothing to do with murder, but I'm not some Passione soldato anymore. I work directly for the new Don, and nobody gonna touch you and Dante once people know."

"Leone, please stop. I watched two delivery guys getting shot by men of Passione." You could barely hold your tears. "Don't you tell me my boy will grow up knowing that's what his dad is doing for life. Leave him alone for his own good! Let me give him a story about his policeman father getting fatally shot while on duty, and he will know his father was a hero."

Watching your eyes swelling with tears, the man in front of let out a sigh: he still couldn't watch you cry despite spending years apart. He fought the urge to come closer and touch your cheek, offering you some comfort, but he realized you would brush him off, not wanting the long lost intimacy. You weren't his beloved. Funny enough, he broke up with you himself, although now Abbacchio couldn't even remember why.

"He can have a true father instead of some fake legend." The man whispered, watching tears finally streaming down your cheeks.

"Give him a privilege to stay far away from this filth." Even though you kept wiping your face with the back of your palm, tears didn't stop falling, leaving dark spots on your pretty blue blouse. "Please, Leone. We both pay our experiences on our skin, but he isn't at fault just because he was born to us. Please... give him a chance to become a good man."

Abbacchio realized he wasn't able to get his way with you after what you had said. He just couldn't, knowing you were right. His son didn't deserve this.

_____________________

From that day he left you alone just as he had promised. Sometimes you got gifts with no notes, but you didn't need them, knowing where they came from: Abbacchio sent Dante expensive toys, the first one being that very same red train your boy wanted so much; then there were clothes, pretty little shoes, once you even got a new bed for him. Some stuff was for you, like that box of chocolate you loved once or a pair of golden earrings you had never worn. You wished he didn't send you anything at all, but receiving gifts from time to time was still better than having Leone at your door, willing to take your son away from you. Anyway, it wasn't Abbacchio himself delivering those things. No one was gonna make a hustle over something so inconsiderable, that's what you thought.

Silly you, thinking his enemies were stupid enough they couldn't trace those little gifts Leone had been sending someone over and over again. It was so much out of his character it was obvious the person had been important to him, and once they found out it was a young woman with a child who looked so much like him, it wasn't a secret anymore.

As the days passed, nothing changing in your life drastically, you had finally relaxed, thinking of taking a vacation and leaving the town for a week or two; your mother would certainly appreciated it after all this time. You were walking down the street with Dante's hand in yours when it all happened, a large white van stopping near you, a man getting out of it so quickly you had no time to react, looking at the gun he was covering with a newspaper.

"Get in there." The stranger growled, his eyes darting towards your baby boy. "Him too."

Freezing at your spot, you grabbed Dante's hand so hard he was going to cry, watching you and some man he didn't recognize staring at each other intensely. You wanted to shout, yell loudly so the whole street would hear you, but you were staring at the black gun's muzzle, and everything inside you got cold from the thought that man would shoot without a second thought, throwing your child inside the van once he'd be done with you. You certainly weren't immortal to withstand a few bullets from such distance.

You got inside without a word, holding Dante in your hands and trying to see in the darkness: the van had no windows on the back, and everything there was pitch black. It didn't matter, though, as once you turned up inside somebody had injected a syringe deep into your neck, and the world turned black in a couple of seconds, your baby's scream ringing in your ears.

Your poor little boy. You knew one day it would happen to him even if Abbacchio stayed away from the two of you.

By the time you woke up in some unknown place on a large, comfortable bed, it had already been late night, the moon shining bright in the night sky. You tried getting up immediately, but the dull headache made you groan and almost fell down the floor before somebody's strong arms caught you, carefully placing you back on the bed. You saw Abbacchio's worried face inches from yours, his brows furrowed as he watched you, afraid you might be in pain.

"Are you alright?" He managed to say, but you didn't bother answering him, your hand grabbing his as you tried getting up again only to be pressed into bed.

"Where's Dante?" Your voice sounded hoarse. "Where's he?!"

You remembered what had happened even despite that headache: a street, a van, the man with a gun wrapped in a newspaper, the lack of light on the backseat. Somebody had kidnapped your son and you, and nothing was making you go more mad than the absence of your baby, probably brought God knew where by the criminals. Shit, what had they done to him?!

"Calm down." Abbacchio's voice was both caring and strict as he clenched your wrists, pinning you to bed. "You will wake him up if you scream."

"Is he here? Is he here?" You kept asking, your body shaking from the thought Dante could be severely injured.

"Yes, he's safe. Nobody touched one hair on his head." Carefully helping you sit on the bed, Abbacchio pulled you to him, letting you rest your head on his half-naked chest, his skin becoming damp from tears streaming down your face: you were in deep shock, shivering, unable to pull yourself together, but nobody could blame you. "Narancia's with him now in the room next to ours. He's perfectly alright."

You couldn't utter a word, crying so hard and wrapping your arms around Leone as if you were drowning in the sea, and he was your lifeline. You needed him so desperately you couldn't let him go for a couple of minutes, weeping quietly against his chest. When was the last time it happened? Abbacchio couldn't remember, but the feeling of you needing him awoken something in the man, something he had long forgotten. Leaving a soft kiss on your forehead, he snuggled you closer to him, whispering words of comfort into your ear as if you were a little girl, and then started gently stroking your back.

He missed it. He missed somebody's warmth as much as you missed it, too, but you had your dear boy, and Abbacchio had no one. Of course, he would die for Bucciarati, and the gang became like a family to him, but a having a family with you was something much, much different. Waking up next to you, snoring lightly in your sleep as you hug your pillow, and nuzzling against your soft, warm body until your boy wakes up the two of you, and you hurry to feed him while Abbacchio is helping him dress. He would let Dante sit on his shoulders while all of you walk, and you'd laugh, watching the man nag when the baby was going to grab his hair too tightly.

He'd see his boy growing up, always there to give him a hand when he needed it the most, and help you to take all that weight from your shoulders you had been carrying for years. You didn't deserve living like this, struggling to raise Dante on your own just because you happened to get pregnant from a useless man like Abbacchio. He wouldn't make you go through all this alone when he was perfectly capable of taking care of both you and his son.

Especially now when you had been attacked so suddenly, and if he wouldn't be close, stalking you like he always did week after week, Leone was afraid to think what would happen.

"You're safe, principessa." He muttered, leaving on more kiss on the top your head, and you smiled weakly: you still remembered him calling you like that when you two still dated. "And Dante's too. I will ask Narancia to bring him to you if you promise to be quiet. It's very hard to make your baby sleep, you know that?"

You chuckled at his attempt to humor you, trying to wipe the tears away. "That's because he has your genes, and you're stubborn like a mule."

"Very much so." Abbacchio chuckled, too, and carefully stood up, motioning you to keep quiet as you stared at him nervously.

When he returned with Narancia gently cradling your boy in his arms, you covered your mouth with your palm, instantly getting of the bed and watching your baby sleep soundly - the guy holding him looked like a baby, too, but you admitted how careful he was with Dante, humming something quietly to keep the boy asleep. Although you wanted to take Dante in your arms, you knew you risked waking him up, and he certainly didn't need more stress after today's events. Nodding to Narancia and mouthing him thank you, you returned to sit on the bed, waiting for Abbacchio. He came back right after closing the door after the guy carrying Dante.

"Thank you." You mumbled, your eyes puffy from crying and rubbing them, your eyes looking down. "Thank you so much for saving him."

"What are you saying?' The man landed next to you and enveloped you in a hug, letting your head rest on his shoulder. "You are my family. I won't ever abandon you."

No, he wouldn't. Soon enough he'd convince you that living on your own was no longer an option, and after you'd move in he would find a way to convince you to marry him, giving both you and his son the family you deserved. He was sure neither Giorno nor Bruno would be against it as both of them were going to get married, too, and they could understand what it meant to take care of their loved ones. Abbacchio would keep you safe, ready to provide you with everything you needed so you wouldn't have to worry about working or spending your time elsewhere but home.

Abbacchio would give his son a chance to become a good man, but he didn't need to become a shadow from his son's past. He had a family to take care of, the ones who needed him much more than anyone else ever did.

#leone abbachio x reader #leone abbacchio #dark leone abbacchio #abbacchio #jjba abbacchio #JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #yandere #leone abbacchio x reader

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rivalsforlife · 3 years

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What're your exact thoughts on AA5?

ooh anon are you sure you want me to get into this?

It’s... complicated? Like, as a game on it’s own, it... still has MAJOR flaws but it’s not too bad. As a sequel to AA4? Pretty terrible.

I guess let’s start with that angle. What makes me angriest about AA5 is that it kind of... completely erased any chance of proper closure to some of the story arcs and themes that AA4 opened up. Like, people will try to claim 456 as a “trilogy”, but it’s nowhere near cohesive enough to pass as one. AA5 pretty much pushed Apollo (who was supposed to “succeed” Phoenix as the protagonist, being kinda the point of the case literally called Turnabout Succession) to a secondary character role. It shoved Trucy completely out of the spotlight so her only role was to hang around the office and then get kidnapped once (which has such little role in the story it’s completely forgettable). It completely abandoned Klavier and had him come back as a kind of bland “ja achtung herr forehead I’m a rockstar ;)” character who only shows up to play a minor role in a minor case. In contrast with, say, how JFA treats the major cast from the first game (consistent protagonist, Maya having a bigger role and more of her history and family drama explored, Miles getting huge amounts of character development and being a major part of the emotional arc) it is an extreme letdown. It also just automatically brings back Phoenix as the protagonist and... doesn’t even touch on the lasting consequences of his disbarment? Not even just the “he became a lawyer again right away and doesn’t really bring up the effect disbarment had on him” kind of thing, but the story itself kind of forgets about him being disbarred. For a game entirely about the public’s perception of the legal system being in the dumpster, not one person ever questions Phoenix’s eligibility as a lawyer or whether he forged the evidence. Like, sure, he was cleared of all charges, but that doesn’t mean that the public would automatically see him as innocent, especially considering his massive influence over the trial that essentially proved his innocence! Like, “oh, you practically ran this trial that said you didn’t forge evidence? Okay, we love you, you’re a hero.”

And I do love Athena, and I like her overall story with Simon, I like them both as characters and I like their general plotline. I just think it came in at a veeeery bad time. Adding Athena as a protagonist in the same game you add Phoenix back as a protagonist means that not only do none of the protagonists end up with the sole focus of the game for their development, but also her major role in the plot pushes back any chance for exploring the story of AA4. Athena gets a joint protagonist-assistant type role, so Trucy isn’t necessary anymore, since the only assistant role is filled by one of the other lawyers. So, no Trucy development. And as a protagonist she is immediately overshadowed by Phoenix in the very first case.

I... like to think the first case is a very good example of DD, because it starts with Athena being immediately overshadowed by Phoenix who is back to his normal trilogy self, and Apollo ends up bleeding on the ground.

I mean, in some ways, I get it, because this is a game that was written six years after Apollo Justice and had a completely new writing team, not to mention being on a completely different console, so already making a direct sequel to AJ would be complicated considering that a decent amount of the people buying the game possibly would have never played an AA game before (considering the 3DS ports weren’t there at the time.) And apparently Phoenix’s characterization in AJ, and AJ in general, was poorly received, so from a marketing standpoint they did kinda need to abandon as much as they could. But from a story standpoint, it’s really bad.

There’s also the issues with the plot in general, namely the “Dark Age of the Law”. Because... the law has been TERRIBLE in this series for as long as the series was around. If there’s a Dark Age, it’s been going on for a looooong time. And, of course, there’s no real way that Phoenix’s disbarment and Simon’s arrest were what initiated this Dark Age, because the people who have ALREADY been arrested should have been much, much worse. Like we’re talking about an undefeated prosecutor known for forging evidence, the Chief of Police, another prosecutor being accused of murder, not to mention the investigations games tackling down an ambassador and the former Chief Prosecutor/ head of the committee that’s SUPPOSED to stop corruption. After all that, the breaking point is a defense attorney and some rookie prosecutor?

(One good explanation is what Saturation’s take on this all happening is, but considering the games haven’t said it was like this...)

Also again with the issue of Phoenix’s disbarment. The game assumes that once Simon is cleared (in an unofficial trial) and Phoenix’s name is cleared (again in an unconventional trial) the public is magically going to start trusting in the legal system again. ... Good luck with that. There’s no way that’s going to happen.

And there’s also a lot of wasted opportunities with the whole “the ends justifies the means” nonsense in general. Like, I think I’ve talked before about how the first case of Apollo Justice pretty much embodies the “the ends justifies the means” approach. The evidence has been destroyed by the true culprit, and the only way to have them safely convicted is to present forged evidence: what then? Or even RFTA’s “there isn’t any evidence that this person is the culprit, but we KNOW they are, and if they continue to get away then they could hurt people, so isn’t forging evidence the right thing to do?” It’s a complicated morally grey thing they can dig into, but instead, DD goes for the “but I want to present forged evidence to win!!” which everyone can agree is wrong.

(It’s also incredibly ironic that Athena talks about “Mr. Wright is going to bring us out of this dark age!” right in the middle of the third case when confronting Means, when, you know, Phoenix used the EXACT “ends justifies the means” approach just a year later. but you know, no one’s going to say anything about that, because Phoenix Wright is perfect and can do no wrong.)

Plus thematically the game is all over the place. Unlike say the second investigations game which had a solid theme about “bonds between people” with a focus on “bonds between parent and child”, I... can’t really figure out what the overall theme of DD is. When I replayed the game prior to UR-1 incident, I could come up with about like five things that they maybe focused on in the last case but none of them were concrete enough to be called the overall theme. Incredible that the game was written two years after the one with one of the most solid overall themes!

Also, the villain was weak overall; they were TOO unpredictable and the fact that absolutely no one noticed something was off with him (particularly not the girl who can literally read emotions) was rough. Everyone immediately turning on him despite the exact same case talking about believing in your friends even if there is evidence against them is a little weird. And their motives, whatever organization they worked for, it’s all unknown (and completely abandoned in the next game, of course, so we’ll never know.) Which may be the point, not everything NEEDS to be solved, but the fact that none of the characters ever express concern about this (like why an international spy who killed someone to impersonate them has a realistic mask of Phoenix’s face) is also weird.

... This is a lot of negativity. Uh, there are things I do like, I swear. I like Athena and Simon, I like uhh... the soundtrack... ... ... you know I do like the game a lot more when I am in the process of playing it. Despite the undoubtable fanservice that was Miles’ appearance (OH THAT’S ANOTHER NEGATIVE THING, I didn’t like how Athena didn’t have a major role in the Phantom’s takedown despite that being the guy who killed her mom) I like being able to see Miles and I like seeing what comfortable terms he’s on with Phoenix now. Some elements of the individual cases were lots of fun (the father-daughter relationship in the second case, the focus on the friendship in the third case, and I enjoyed the DLC case overall.) ... This has gone on long enough, so I’ll leave it at that!

#dd spoilers #dual destinies #aa5 spoilers #long post #(hopefully those'll all tag the spoilers for those who haven't played this yet)#sorry about all the negativity...#I tend to focus on negatives more than positives when critiquing media #just a weird little thing I do #asks

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jencsi · 3 years

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Let’s Talk- Finn and Russell;

From the very beginning, we get the hint, notion, presence of a deeper connection between Julie Finlay and DB Russell. In Seeing Red, when she hears him, not even having to look and know he’s there during the crime scene reconstruction, just his voice alone makes her roll her eyes, gets her fired up with some sort of passion, anger, emotional reaction. As evidenced from their conversation about the blood spatter case, her resistance to proceed further with him again shows she is not quite over what has happened to them in the past and it makes viewers want to know, what the heck happened? What could this seemingly unbothered hippie like guy have ever done to cross this already sullen yet spirited woman? Despite her futile attempts to deflect him, she cannot help but be drawn to the case, he sought her out after all, he must be desperate. When she retrieves the file he leaves behind and it piques her interest, she gives in, with probably a lot of hemming and hawing off screen, before venturing to CSI for the first time.

That single solitary scene cemented in my brain their dynamic from that day forward. There was no going back for me. Whatever they had in the past, whether that be something romantic, friendly or just work related, my soul ached to know more and even better, my heart yearned to watch them more, to listen, to observe the bantar, the sarcasm, the snark, the sheer and utter pure honesty that comes from their conversations. DB Russell is not trying to trick Finn, he’s not trying to make her figure out some silly puzzle or game, he just wants her expertise and guidance. Once she accepts his offer, her personality begins to shine via her work (Should I wrap it up and take it back to the lab? Took the words right out of my mouth smart ass” “You know me so well” “And you know blood, better than anyone I know”) her bonding with her colleagues, and even better, the little hints at what was between her and Russell back in Seattle.

When we finally do get to see that past revealed, ripped open like a fresh wound, via CSI on Fire, we see the headstrong and overheated Finn on a mission, prove that Tom Cooley is a killer and bring justice to the families of his victims. Of course that journey is not without complications and wild accusations, of course Finn would never kill anyone, that I firmly believe, unless of course it’s to save a friend or colleague (saving Greg from that supposed innocent victim of the Gig Harbor Killer in The Twin Paradox) but Cooley rattles her, gets under her skin in a way different from Russell. In fact it’s Russell warning her to be careful, to go with caution, but her typical rebellious nature of “I’m not listening” pushes her further to the truth and to danger at every turn.

Her tone when speaking to Russell about the discovery of Cooley’s body in his hotel shifts our thinking that maybe she isn’t the same person she was two years ago. If what we are observing right now is the casual cool collected Finn, just how reckless was she in Seattle? She feels the disappointment from Russell in his tone, the way he looks at her, and she hates that, she doesn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially him. His presence in her life since the Seattle days has created this combination of not wanting to let him down or disappoint him mixed with her fierce loyalty to the truth, to the victims and their families, clashing with her exuberant personality.

With CSI on Fire resolved, Finn melts back into a rhythm with her ex-husband, also a component of her former life in Seattle, all seems right between Russell and her, a trademark of their friendship, forgiveness and acceptance.

Looking at their dynamic from the perspective of the actors who portray them, Ted Danson has referred to them as the bickersons, like oil and water, but at the same time, Finn/Elisabeth and her characters intrusiveness helps him do his job better and see things clearly when it comes to cases as well as other aspects of his characters life. Elisabeth meanwhile seemed to enjoy the back and forth dialogue and the testiness of their relationship, she seemed invested in their past in Seattle and wondered where the writers would take that.

In Homecoming, the season 12 finale, we see corruption and problems arise amongst the police force and Russell apologies for seeming to drag Finn into this mess and bringing her there to work but she states that she makes her own decisions and doesn’t seem bothered by the issues until she is thrown into the chaos of it all when she trails Crenshaw and stumbles into the violence they have created around them with the assistance of McKeen and Kimball.

The Finn and Russell dynamic gets tested here when Katie, Russell’s grand daughter is kidnapped and Finn attempts to save her. In the chaos, she sends Katie out into the unknown alone while she does battle with Crenshaw (a violent but epic struggle, major kudos to the stunt work they did here, it felt so real and made me love Finn even more, seeing how far Elisabeth was willing to take this character) Russell is devastated to learn Finn let Katie escape alone but is also distraught knowing both were hurt and in danger. His anger at Finn boils over when she insists she’s fine, how he refers to her as “Finn” on the phone instead of the sweeter Jules we are used to hearing, and when she discusses the case with him in the bedroom where Katie was taken from and he punched the wall, leading to a missed clue. Despite the resentment towards her, they figure out Katie’s whereabouts and stop McKeen from carrying out his plans. We can see and feel Finn’s guilt deep down for her mistakes, even if everything works out, the way she stands holding the phone, the way she looks at Moreno who tries to assure her it will be okay.

At the end of Karma To Burn, Finn and Russell reconcile again, not so much with words but in the way she snaps him out of his fantasy of ever having to use his gun in a real life situation, of how far he was almost pushed to the brink when it comes to saving his work family, not just Katie. His use of the nickname Jules on several occasions, something she claims to hate but also doesn’t, comes back when Barbara inquires if she will stay for dinner. All is well again.

The final blow and perhaps the deepest cut of their relationship occurs with the reopening of the Gig Harbor Killer case. From the get go, we start off with a bang, literally and figuratively. It is Russell who is at the mercy of Winthrop who demands he admit they did not capture the correct killer in order to relinquish Finn from the confines of her bomb invested car. With much reluctance, he admits their mistake and Finn is spared. The hug they share in the parking lot after she is freed breaks me every time and just further adds to the complicated but always present nature of their relationship. The next go around, Maya, Russell’s daughter is targeted, but this time, she is used as bait to try and lure the copycat out to play and be captured. When that fails, Finn unwillingly becomes the next target and once again Russell is thrown for a loop. This time however, there is no mercy, no chance at redemption, Finn is ripped from him violently and with no regard. Worse still, we get to see a tiny bit of his life afterwards, via CSI Cyber, when he observes another coma patient in Hack ER. Avery Ryan takes notice of his demeanor and quietly brings up Finn. Russell’s memories play out in quick flashbacks and we see where his heart belonged the entire time. He speaks of reading to her, hoping she’d wake up, then darkness, never to see her eyes pierce him again, no more bantar, no more snark, no more intrusiveness. The fact that almost a whole year later we get a resolution for Finn and get to see Russell pine for her one last time gives us closure and really showcases how strong this bond was for three and a half years.

I will always wish for a better outcome for Finn, as originally scripted, but somewhere in the chaos of writing and producing, we lost her. I will always be sad we didn’t get to see more of Russell at her bedside waiting for her to wake up. That emotion would have been so raw and real coming from Ted. These characters deserved a proper ending and reunification because it just wasn’t justified to wreck their metaphorical ship that was so strong and sailing along fine before colliding with the iceberg of violence. Nevertheless, this dynamic holds strong in my heart to this day. There are plenty more examples to pull from the show, every time they chatted about cases and made progress just by talking it out, every time they fought about their thought processes and reckless behavior, every soft sweet utterance of “Jules” will forever gut me, weaken me, bring me to my knees, but somehow give me strength. That’s how powerful their relationship was and appeared to me on screen, they were a paradox, love, hate, push, pull, oil and water as Ted stated before, give and take, and boy did they give me so much more than any naysayer could ever attempt to take from me. No matter where anyone stands on the fandom line, so much heart and soul went into Russell and Finn, and when you really sit down and watch and listen with perspective and acceptance, you can see it and feel it. I think that type of power transcends just your typical acting alone, it truly feels real. Give me that dynamic everyday, sign me up. I don’t think I’ll ever be as lucky as I was to witness such greatness on the screen between these two. Good things don’t happen twice, as I have unfortunately learned the hard way over the years, once it’s gone, it’s gone.

But in the heart and soul of Russell and Finn is an incredible ability to keep a stronghold on viewers like me, or maybe not, maybe I’m just crazy, but here were are, years after things have ended and the screen has faded to black.

#julie finlay #db russell #ted danson #elisabeth shue #thank you for coming to this ted talk #literally #csi crime scene investigation #that novel I’ve been working on #here you go #let’s talk

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newstfionline · 3 years

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Tuesday, May 18, 2021

Fire Season Comes Early To California (CNN) Fire weather is coming early to California this year. For the first time since 2014, parts of Northern California are seeing a May “red flag” fire warning due to dry and windy conditions. The warning coverage area extends from Redding in the north to Modesto in the south, and includes portions of the Central Valley and the state capital of Sacramento. The warning also extends to the eastern edges of the Bay Area. A brush fire that started Friday in Pacific Palisades flared up Saturday due to gusty winds, burning more than 1,300 acres and threatening homes in Topanga Canyon. Topanga State Park in the Santa Monica Mountains is about 20 miles west of downtown Los Angeles. The Palisades fire caused about 1,000 people to be evacuated from their homes early Sunday, with other residents on standby to leave.

Pandemic Refugees at the Border (NYT) The Biden administration continues to grapple with swelling numbers of migrants along the southwestern border. Most of them are from Central America, fleeing gang violence and natural disasters. But the past few months have also brought a much different wave of migration that the Biden administration was not prepared to address: pandemic refugees. They are people arriving in ever greater numbers from far-flung countries where the coronavirus has caused unimaginable levels of illness and death and decimated economies and livelihoods. If eking out an existence was challenging in such countries before, in many of them it has now become almost impossible. According to official data released this week, 30 percent of all families encountered along the border in April hailed from countries other than Mexico and the Central American countries of Guatemala, Honduras and El Salvador, compared to just 7.5 percent in April 2019, during the last border surge. The coronavirus pandemic has had far-reaching consequences for the global economy, erasing hundreds of millions of jobs. And it has disproportionately affected developing countries, where it could set back decades of progress, according to economists. About 13,000 migrants have landed in Italy, the gateway to Europe, so far this year, three times as many as in the same period last year. At the U.S.-Mexico border in recent months, agents have stopped people from more than 160 countries, and the geography coincides with the path of the virus’s worst devastation.

The U.S. conversation on Israel is changing, no matter Biden’s stance (Washington Post) In Washington, support for the Palestinian plight is getting louder in Congress. On Friday, Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) wrote a widely circulated New York Times op-ed pulling the spotlight away from Hamas’s provocations to the deeper reality of life for millions of Palestinians living under blockade and occupation. He pointed to the havoc unleashed in recent weeks by rampaging mobs of Jewish extremists in Jerusalem, as well as the questionable Israeli legal attempts to forcibly evict the Palestinian residents of a neighborhood in the contested holy city. “None of this excuses the attacks by Hamas, which were an attempt to exploit the unrest in Jerusalem, or the failures of the corrupt and ineffective Palestinian Authority, which recently postponed long-overdue elections,” Sanders wrote. “But the fact of the matter is that Israel remains the one sovereign authority in the land of Israel and Palestine, and rather than preparing for peace and justice, it has been entrenching its unequal and undemocratic control.” In another era, Sanders would have cut a lonely figure among his colleagues. But he is not alone. A number of Democratic lawmakers, including solidly pro-Israel politicians, issued statements indicating their displeasure with the casualties caused by Israel’s attacks in Gaza. Others were more vocal, accusing Israel of “apartheid.” Alexandria Ocasio Cortez (D-NY) tweeted: “This is happening with the support of the United States....the US vetoed the UN call for a ceasefire. If the Biden admin can’t stand up to an ally, who can it stand up to? How can they credibly claim to stand for human rights?” Jeremy Ben-Ami, president of J Street, a center-left pro-Israel advocacy organization that increasingly reflects the mainstream position of American liberals, said in a briefing with reporters last week that the “diplomatic blank check to the state of Israel” given out by successive U.S. administrations has meant that “Israel has no incentive to end occupation and find a solution to the conflict.”

Mexico City is sinking (Wired) When Darío Solano‐Rojas moved from his hometown of Cuernavaca to Mexico City to study at the National Autonomous University of Mexico, the layout of the metropolis confused him. “What surprised me was that everything was kind of twisted and tilted,” says Solano‐Rojas. “At that time, I didn't know what it was about. I just thought, ‘Oh, well, the city is so much different than my hometown.’” Different, it turned out, in a bad way. Picking up the study of geology at the university, Solano‐Rojas met geophysicist Enrique Cabral-Cano, who was actually researching the surprising reason for that infrastructural chaos: The city was sinking—big time. It’s the result of a geological phenomenon called subsidence, which usually happens when too much water is drawn from underground, and the land above begins to compact. According to new modeling by the two researchers and their colleagues, parts of the city are sinking as much as 20 inches a year. In the next century and a half, they calculate, areas could drop by as much as 65 feet. Spots just outside Mexico City proper could sink 100 feet. That twisting and tilting Solano‐Rojas noticed was just the start of a slow-motion crisis for 9.2 million people in the fastest-sinking city on Earth. And because some parts are slumping dramatically and others aren’t, the infrastructure that spans the two zones is sinking in some areas but staying at the same elevation in others. And that threatens to break roads, metro networks, and sewer systems. “Subsistence by itself may not be a terrible issue,” says Cabral-Cano. “But it's the difference in this subsistence velocity that really puts all civil structures under different stresses.”

Today’s the day: British holidaymakers return to Portugal as travel ban ends (Reuters) Sun-hungry British visitors descended on Portuguese beaches once again on Monday as a four-month long ban on travel between the two countries due to the COVID-19 pandemic ended, in a much-needed boost for the struggling tourism sector. Twenty-two flights from Britain are due to land in Portugal on Monday, with most heading to the southern Algarve region, famous for its beaches and golf courses but nearly deserted as the pandemic kept tourists away. Visitors from Britain must present evidence of a negative coronavirus test taken 72 hours before boarding their flights to Portugal and there is no need to quarantine for COVID-19 when returning home. Back at home, most British people will be free once again to hug, albeit cautiously, drink a pint in their pub, sit down to an indoor meal or visit the cinema after the ending of a series of lockdowns that imposed the strictest ever restrictions in peacetime.

Afghans who helped the US now fear being left behind (AP) He served as an interpreter alongside U.S. soldiers on hundreds of patrols and dozens of firefights in eastern Afghanistan, earning a glowing letter of recommendation from an American platoon commander and a medal of commendation. Still, Ayazudin Hilal was turned down when he applied for one of the scarce special visas that would allow him to relocate to the U.S. with his family. Now, as American and NATO forces prepare to leave the country, he and thousands of others who aided the war effort fear they will be left stranded, facing the prospect of Taliban reprisals. “We are not safe,” the 41-year-old father of six said of Afghan civilians who worked for the U.S. or NATO. “The Taliban is calling us and telling us, ‘Your stepbrother is leaving the country soon, and we will kill all of you guys.’” At least 300 interpreters have been killed in Afghanistan since 2016, and the Taliban have made it clear they will continue to be targeted, said Matt Zeller, a co-founder of No One Left Behind, an organization that advocates on their behalf. He also served in the country as an Army officer. “The Taliban considers them to be literally enemies of Islam,” said Zeller, now a fellow at the Truman National Security Project. “There’s no mercy for them.”

A Desperate India Falls Prey to Covid Scammers (NYT) Within the world’s worst coronavirus outbreak, few treasures are more coveted than an empty oxygen canister. India’s hospitals desperately need the metal cylinders to store and transport the lifesaving gas as patients across the country gasp for breath. So a local charity reacted with outrage when one supplier more than doubled the price, to nearly $200 each. The charity called the police, who discovered what could be one of the most brazen, dangerous scams in a country awash with coronavirus-related fraud and black-market profiteering. The police say the supplier—a business called Varsha Engineering, essentially a scrapyard—had been repainting fire extinguishers and selling them as oxygen canisters. The consequences could be deadly: The less-sturdy fire extinguishers might explode if filled with high-pressure oxygen. A coronavirus second wave has devastated India’s medical system. Hospitals are full. Drugs, vaccines, oxygen and other supplies are running out. Pandemic profiteers are filling the gap. In many cases, the sellers prey on the desperation and grief of families.

Full-blown boycott pushed for Beijing Olympics (AP) Groups alleging human-rights abuses against minorities in China are calling for a full-blown boycott of the 2022 Winter Olympics in Beijing, a move likely to ratchet up pressure on the International Olympic Committee, athletes, sponsors and sports federations. A coalition representing Uyghurs, Tibetans, residents of Hong Kong and others issued a statement Monday calling for the boycott, eschewing lesser measures that had been floated like “diplomatic boycotts” and further negotiations with the IOC or China. “The time for talking with the IOC is over,” Lhadon Tethong of the Tibet Action Institute said in an exclusive interview with The Associated Press. “This cannot be games as usual or business as usual; not for the IOC and not for the international community.” The push for a boycott comes a day before a joint hearing in the U.S. Congress focusing on the Beijing Olympics and China’s human-rights record, and just days after the United States Olympic and Paralympic Committee said boycotts are ineffective and only hurt athletes.

Grief Mounts as Efforts to Ease Israel-Hamas Fight Falter (NYT) Diplomats and international leaders were unable Sunday to mediate a cease-fire in the latest conflict between Israel and Hamas, as Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel vowed to continue the fight and the United Nations Security Council failed to agree on a joint response to the worsening bloodshed. The diplomatic wrangling occurred after the fighting, the most intense seen in Gaza and Israel for seven years, entered its deadliest phase yet. At least 42 Palestinians were killed early Sunday morning in an airstrike on several apartments in Gaza City, Palestinian officials said, the conflict’s most lethal episode so far. The number of people in killed in Gaza rose to 197 over the seven days of the conflict, according to Palestinian officials, while the number of Israeli residents killed by Palestinian militants climbed to 11, including one soldier, the Israeli government said.

Israel, Hamas trade fire in Gaza as war rages on (AP) Israel carried out a wave of airstrikes on what it said were militant targets in Gaza, leveling a six-story building, and militants fired dozens of rockets into Israel on Tuesday. Palestinians across the region observed a general strike as the war, now in its second week, showed no signs of abating. The strikes toppled a building that housed libraries and educational centers belonging to the Islamic University. Residents sifted through the rubble, searching for their belongings.

Israel’s aftermath (Foreign Policy) In Israel, the aftermath of days of violence in mixed Arab-Israeli towns has led to a one-sided reaction from state prosecutors: Of the 116 indictments served so far against those arrested last week, all have been against Arab-Israeli citizens, Haaretz reports. Meanwhile, Yair Lapid, whose centrist Yesh Atid party’s chances of forming a coalition government has crumbled since the violence broke out, placed the blame on Netanyahu. If he was in charge, Lapid said on Sunday, no one would have to question “why the fire always breaks out precisely when it’s most convenient for the prime minister.”

Long working hours can be a killer, WHO study shows (Reuters) Working long hours is killing hundreds of thousands of people a year in a worsening trend that may accelerate further due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the World Health Organization said on Monday. In the first global study of the loss of life associated with longer working hours, the paper in the journal Environment International showed that 745,000 people died from stroke and heart disease associated with long working hours in 2016. That was an increase of nearly 30% from 2000. “Working 55 hours or more per week is a serious health hazard,” said Maria Neira, director of the WHO’s Department of Environment, Climate Change and Health. The joint study, produced by the WHO and the International Labour Organization, showed that most victims (72%) were men and were middle-aged or older. Often, the deaths occurred much later in life, sometimes decades later, than the shifts worked. It also showed that people living in Southeast Asia and the Western Pacific region were the most affected.

#headlines #news

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dianapana · 4 years

Text

SasuHina Month 2020- Day 6

Prompt - Crime Detectives

I woke up with the worst headache, as I try to move my hands to grip my temple to try to put some pressure on them and relief some of the pain I hear an incredibly loud sound that splits my head in two, my hands are met with resistance just inches away from my head. I fully open my eyes and the blinding light makes my head hurt even more; on reflex I try to move my hands again the sound comes back and everything just fucking hurts.

When I can finally keep my eyes open for more than 5 seconds without passing out, I look to my hands and see they are handcuffed together and to a sturdy iron table. I’m sitting in a similar chair and my legs are also tied to the chair. I raise my eyes further and find myself looking in a mirror.

I have no idea what the fuck is going on. I don’t remember how I got here. The last thing I remember is being home with my girlfriend Hinata. The thought of her unsettles me; if she was with me than, is she also here? Fuck I hope not. I don’t have much time to sort thought my thoughts because the door to the side opens and two men come in; one of them is dressed in a suit while the other has the usual police uniform on. They both sit down and stare at me for a moment before the one in the suit starts talking.

Do you know why you’re here son?” he looks almost smug, like me being here is doing it for him. I am instantly disgusted by him.

“No.” I say, my throat is dry and my voice sounds weird even to my ears. My head still hurts and everything is almost heightened; I’ve felt like this before so I know that I might have a slight concussion.

The man in the suit rolls his eyes at me and leans in closer. “Don’t try playing coy. This investigation is only procedure, if it weren’t for the paper work you’d be behind bars for a really long time punk.” There’s a light in his eye that tells me he’s enjoying belittling me.

“Why would I be behind bars? What is it that you think I did?” I feel like I am part of some really bad Tv show about corrupt officers. Talking about officers, the man in uniform hasn’t said a word. I turn to look at him and he looks back at me. Unlike the other man he isn’t smug. He looks serious and puzzled. He’s trying to figure me out. The fact that this is real and that I am being accused of a crime finally dwells on me and I’m not too proud to admit that I’m fucking scared. I’ve seen documentaries about how a shit ton of people go to jail on false accusations. That piece of information was just a fun fact my brain absorbed and saved for later to drop in a random conversation, I never thought I would relate to it.

“Murder. That is what you did. You killed someone in cold blood” The man in the suit spits out those words. I know I’ve gone pale; I see it in the mirror. The room is spinning and I can’t breathe. For the first time the one in the uniform speaks.

“Deep breath son you’ll pass out”

I am well fucking aware I will. But maybe that’d be better. Maybe I’ll wake up to see Hinata’s face inches away from my face, a worried look on her face ‘You were trashing in your sleep’ she’d say and I’d assure her it was a nightmare. I’d hold her closer and go back to sleep with her head over my chest and everything would be ok. But I breath, close my eyes and when I open them, I’m still here.

“Who do you think I…?” I can’t even say the word. A thought goes though my mind and I feel like I’ll pass out all over again “Hinata, is she ok?” I kind of regret my words the moment they leave my lips. She has nothing to do with this and I might have just linked her to something awful.

I look to the uniform man because I expect more honesty from him than from the one in the suit. He looks pained and fuck if that doesn’t scare me. I want to cry; I don’t even care that I’m in front of these two, possibly more people watching from behind the mirror or on security cams.

“That is private information.” The one in the suit says. I blink and expect him to laugh tell me he’s joking and tell me the name of whoever they think I killed. But he doesn’t we keep staring at each other like fucking idiots. This feels less and less like real life. What the heck does he mean ‘private information’ I don’t even get to know who they think I presumably killed?

“I think that’s enough Kuzo-san” the one in the uniform says “I’ll take it from here” the one in the suit wants to argue, I can tell but his phone rings at that exact moment, he answers and leaves without any further argument.

“This doesn’t look good for you. The dead body of a 45-year-old man was found in the trunk of your car.” I breath relieved; I know it’s weird at this exact moment to do that, but I’m just glad that it isn’t Hinata that died. Having no recollection of anything but being with her and then being accused of murder made my brain have some weird connections. I think back to what he said and I finally remember a very important thing.

“My truck was stolen about a month ago. I called the police and reported it. A few days later I bought another car. There’s a ton of evidence to show I haven’t used it in over a month. I don’t know when you found the body but I’m sure it got there long after my truck was stolen.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Are you able to tell me with which officer you spoke about your stolen truck?”

“Officer Iruka. I even came down to the police station, signed a form and places a written declaration.” The more I talk the more he relaxes. I’m glad the other one left; I have no idea who the man killed was but that guy just wanted to say the case is closed, in my opinion, he didn’t care if they solved it correctly.

The man gets up and leaves the room. I’m left alone and my thoughts go back to Hinata. How did I get here? I bet she’s scared out of her mind. Does she know I’m here? Was she with me? Are they accusing her of being an accomplice or some stupid shit like that? A few moments pass before the door opens again and I hear a voice screaming; all my senses are on edge. That was Itachi’s voice. I could always recognize him. I’ve never heard him scream. He’s always level headed even in the heated arguments we’ve had over the years.

The man in the uniform comes to the table but he doesn’t sit down; instead he walks around it and goes down to one knee and unties the rope around mt legs. His jaw is tight so I can only assume he’s clenching his teeth. “I checked your story out and it checks out” He says and unlocks my hands. “Even so we can’t let you go yet; no matter how fucking stupid this is. The other guy, he’s a crime detective hired by the victim’s family and apparently, he’s dead seat on you being the criminal. We won’t interview you any further for now. Your brother is out there you are allowed to talk to him. Get a lawyer kid; this will end fine for you but sadly it will take some paperwork and time”

He leads me from behind to the door; if I thought the room before was lighted this one is brighter than the fucking sun and my head still hurts like a bitch.

“Sasuke!” Itachi comes running to me but he’s not the one that hugs me; Hinata is. She was behind him all along. Her shoulders shake and I know she’s crying.

“I was so scared. This man comes to the house and knocks you out; I tell him that I’ll call the cops and he told me not to bother and showed me his officer badge. I’m sorry I got so scared I called Itachi to come” Her voice is small. Finally, thanks to her I know what happened but I’m more pissed now. The man dared come to our house.

“Is that how the police act nowadays? Break into people’s houses and accuse them of murder without having all the facts?” Itachi is the one talking and he’s questioning the man behind me.

“Is that what happened miss?” he addresses Hinata. She looks up at him and nods. He’s even more pissed now than before.

“I will need your statement. But first; is this the man?” he asks her and shows Hinata a picture of the man in the suit. Hinata nods once again. He sighs again and talks into the station on his shoulder.

“Cuff Kuzo-san. I’ll be there in a few” he turns back to us “after we finish with your official statement miss you are all free to go; but please don’t leave the city in the next 48h” I have no idea why this man in the suit would want to pin the crim on me but it seems he did a very poor job.

It takes Hinata about 5 minutes to give her statement; Itachi keeps rubbing his forehead and I can’t keep my eyes open for more than a couple seconds at a time. “It’s fucking frightening getting a call in the middle of the night from your girlfriend telling me that you got arrested or some shit” I bet it was.

“For the first about 5 minutes after I woke up in there, I kept thinking it was all a joke. We should swing by the pharmacy; I think I have a concussion”

Hinata comes back, her eyes are red and tired; all I want to do is go home and sleep; sleep while I hold her and not think about this shit. Criminal detectives my fucking ass. That dude is a phony and either doesn’t know how to do this fucking job or he had a hidden agenda against me for some reasons; who knows.

“Let’s go home and forget this ever happened.” Hinata says and takes my hand in hers. They are small and soft and warm. My mind goes back to those few moments when I thought it was her that had died and my heart felt like it had been swallowed by a black void. I look at her, now, trying to act strong for my sake. I look at Itachi; she called him crying just after the incident; I’m certain she has had it worse than I did in this time. I stop in my track and pull her to me in another hug. I love everything about her from her smell to her laugh and annoying addiction to cinnamon; from her eyes to her smile and the freckles she has on her chest. Since I woke up my head has been feeling fuzzy because of the concussion but just now I get a moment of clarity.

I let her go and kiss her nose. She offers me a small tired smile. She’s beautiful even tired and with her hair looking a mess; I notice she’s wearing the same shirt she was about to sleep in last night and jeans. There’s nothing in my mind now but her. I drop to one knee in the hallways of the police station and open my mouth to ask her to marry me but Hinata cuts me off.

“What are you doing?” she looks around, I assume people are looking at us but I don’t care. “Sasuke get up; this isn’t funny. I just want to get home” she extends her hand to me silently telling me again to get up. I take her hand but instead of getting up I turn it around and kiss the back of it.

“Hinata, will you marry me?” I ask her and she looks alarmed but it’s so fucking adorable.

“Jesus, Sasuke, what the hell. We’re in a police station after one of the worst nights of my life and you’re asking me to marry you? Are you for real right now?”

“He has a concussion” says Itachi somewhere in the fundal and Hinata’s eyes widen in concern.

“I’m not doing this because I hit my head. I’ve been thinking about it, how and when to ask, I’ve been carrying around with me the ring for about 2 months now always chickening out at the last moment. Bu now it felt right, I don’t know why. But I am ‘for real’ Hinata. I love you and I want you to be my wife. I want to spend all my life with you” her expression changes from disbelief to something I can’t really read but I hope is happiness; she’s tearing up.

“Of course, I’ll marry you, you big goof. Now get up” She pulls me to her and this time I go willingly. I kiss her and smile down at her.

“I’ve had that ring with me everyday for 2 months and couldn’t do it, and now that I did it, I don’t have the ring on me…I’ll give it to you when we get home. I promise”

What started out as the worst day ever ended up being the push, I needed to do what I had been afraid of; it put things in perspective. I thought asking her to marry me was frightening but the thought of her not being with me forever scared me even more. I look over my shoulder and see the man in the uniform and officer Iruka smile at me. Maybe I do own that stupid ass criminal detective something; but I’ll probably never admit that out loud. That fucker doesn’t deserve anything.

#sasuhina #sasuhina month 2020 #sh2020 #shmonth2020 #sasuke #hinata #sasuke uchiha #hinata hyuuga #naruto #fanfic #writer #diawrites #dia-story #sasuhina month

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pastelwitchling · 4 years

Text

This prompt is courtesy of Anonymous.

Prompt: a corrupt cop stopping Michael and Alex and taking a liking to Alex (who is in the passenger seat or something like that). If you choose to write it, thank uuuu

***

Michael looked to the passenger seat where Alex slept against the window, and his lips quirked up. His arms were crossed tightly to ward off the cold, and as they came to a red light, Michael took his own jacket off, and carefully draped it across Alex’s chest. Alex murmured in his sleep, shifted under the jacket, and turned silent. Michael’s smile widened.

It had been days since he’d seen Alex sleep at all, and the thought that he could do it so easily now with no one else but Michael in the car sent a warmth throughout his chest. He checked to make sure the heaters were working, and lightly pressed two fingers to Alex’s rosy cheeks to know he was warm enough. Michael thought of Alex awake, and knew that the airman would not appreciate being coddled, least of all by the cowboy. And yet the knowledge of that only made Michael want to laugh.

A few months ago, he might’ve been brokenhearted by it, might’ve wanted to wake Alex up just to justify himself, might’ve wanted to pull over and hold Alex in his sleep because he knew he would never get another chance to touch the airman. Now, things were different. He and Alex had spent nights talking, had laughed, had had dinner together, had bonded over fries dipped in milkshakes and Star Wars and music. When Alex looked away from him nowadays, his cheeks flushed. When he told Michael to go away, he said it in a whining tone, laughter bubbling in his throat, that only made Michael want to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. When Alex caught him staring, he’d throw something at him to stop, his lips turned to a cute that made Michael’s heart melt.

And now Alex had trusted him enough to help him follow up on a lead, no Valenti required, which Alex admittedly did not do often. Baby steps.

At any rate, Michael was just reaching over to push Alex’s bangs back from his eyes, and to – he confessed – get a feel of Alex’s soft locks in his hair, his warm skin against his fingers, when he heard the wail of a police siren, and he stopped. Flashing red and blue in his rearview mirror, Michael saw a police car following him, and while rolling his eyes, pulled over to the side.

The first thing Michael registered as the tall cop came to his window was that he reeked of alcohol. Michael would know what that smelled like. He tensed. He’d dealt with drunk cops before, but that was when it was only him in the car, and not Alex with him.

“Howdy, partner,” the cop said, and Michael had all too often recognized the sway in his own drunkenness, the way his words slurred, the way his eyes never clearly focused on whoever was in front of him not to recognize it in someone else. His hands tightened on the wheel.

Damnit, come on, he thought. Not now.

“You know how fast you were going?”

Michael forced a smile. “Honestly didn’t, officer,” he said. Okay, maybe if he stayed calm, the worst that would come out of all of this would be a speeding ticket.

The officer raised a brow. “License and registration please.”

And so Michael sat with his thumbs tapping the steering wheel as the officer looked them over – or tried to. It was pitch black outside, and the cop could barely stand straight. Michael doubted he was even really reading anything on the page. He handed them back to Michael without a ticket, and did something Michael had never seen a cop do.

He leaned an elbow on the car’s hood and peered inside. It took a second for Michael to realize that he was watching Alex.

“What were you boys doing all the way in Hobbs, anyway? That’s a long drive from Roswell.”

Michael frowned. How the hell did this guy know where they had been?

“Can I just have my ticket so we can get home?” he said, then, as an afterthought, added, “Sir.”

The cop smirked, and it terrified Michael because it was that look that he feared most of all in himself when he was drunk. That look always meant trouble.

“You know,” the police officer said, scratching his jaw as he looked around as if to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “I could forget the whole ticket thing if,” he gestured with his chin at Alex, “you’ll let me wake up your friend there. Take him for a ride.”

Michael stared. “You followed us, didn’t you? You sick bastard, you followed us?”

The officer, it seemed, did not seem to appreciate being accused. “Alright, why don’t you step out of the car, sir.”

“Like hell I will.”

“Get out of the car.”

The officer, Michael saw, was still glancing at Alex’s sleeping figure. Michael’s hands curled to fists. He did want to step out of the car, if only to shoot this creep across the desert and watch him fall on the other side like a pebble, but he didn’t want to leave Alex in here alone, not for a second. He had the horrible feeling that if he did, Alex would be in danger.

“Say, officer,” Michael said through grit teeth. “You noticed your car’s on fire yet?”

The cop frowned, glanced at his police car, then did a doubletake. Somehow, the car had turned into a giant bonfire, the flames reaching the dark skies in an instant.

“What the hell,” he muttered, then when the glass suddenly shattered and the tires popped, screamed, “WHAT THE HELL?!”

As he ran to put it out, Michael turned his own engine back on and drove off. And if the cop’s wrist and one of his ankles suddenly broke for no apparent reason, then Michael couldn’t say he knew anything about that.

Michael pulled his phone out and dialed as Alex stirred awake. He looked into the rearview mirror, relieved that the fire was no longer in sight.

“You good?” he asked, holding the phone up to his ear.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered, rubbing his face. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Hm? No, you’re fine. Max, hey,” he said as his brother picked up on the other end, “I – yeah, I know what time it is – I need you to do something for me. Yeah, brother, now.”

“What happened?” Alex looked around. “Are we in Roswell?”

“Not yet, Private, go back to sleep.” Then, into the phone, “There’s a cop from the Hobbs district whose car just set fire in the middle of the road. Might want to look into him. No, Sherriff, I have no idea how. I’ll text you the details in a bit. ‘Kay.”

And he hung up, fully aware Alex was watching him with furrowed brows. “Did something happen?”

Michael grinned, reaching a hand over to ruffle Alex’s hair which the airman dodged. “Just a little accident.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “You have that look.”

“What look?”

“That I-just-broke-a-dick’s-arm look.”

Michael huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “Go back to sleep, Private. I’ll wake you when we get to the cabin.”

“Can you at least…” his words trailed off, and before Michael could ask what was wrong, Alex said, “Is this your jacket? Aren’t you cold?”

Michael’s grin widened. “Aren’t you tired?”

“At least take it back.”

“When you leave. I need it to smell like you so I have something to remember you by.”

“You’re a loser.”

“Made you blush a little bit though, didn’t I?”

Alex said nothing for a moment, then, “I’m going to sleep.”

Michael laughed, reached to touch Alex’s arm, and this time, Alex allowed the contact. Michael was glad; part of him needed to be reassured that Alex was here, safe, with him. “You do that, Private.”

***

This was one hell of a random prompt. Sorry it took so long, I’ve been in a schlump of sorts, but I’m really hoping to have all the prompts out by the end of Thanksgiving break.

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex one shot #malex fanfic #malex fic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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dogbearinggifts · 4 years

Note

What’s your opinion on the Patch/Diego relationship?

I definitely like it. They’ve got a bit of that opposites-attract energy going on, what with Eudora being a mostly by-the-book detective and Diego going full vigilante to take down criminals. At the same time, they both have a strong commitment to justice, which lets you see what brought them together—even as their competing (and in many ways incompatible) ways of pursuing justice points to one major source of friction in their relationship. At the beginning of the series, it’s already become acrimonious, hinting at a long and heated history; but there’s evidence they care for and respect each other as well. Eudora calling Diego to help her search the hotel. Diego losing all concern for forensic evidence when he sees her body. Those things point to a relationship built on mutual respect and selfless acts of caring—even though it’s since been poisoned by slights, sharp remarks, and lots of resentment on both sides. It’s a complicated relationship, and we’re not encouraged to see one party as right and the other as wrong. We’re just shown their dynamic, given a hint of their history, and allowed to make up our own minds.

I think the main reason why I like it, though, is fairly meta: It allowed the writers to deconstruct Diego’s worldview in a way that was both effective and unobtrusive.

See, at first blush, Diego’s choice to moonlight as a vigilante seems like a good one. There are a lot of bad guys out there, and they need a good guy to stop them. “When seconds count, the police are minutes away” unfortunately holds true in a lot of cases, and not always because of departmental corruption or malfeasance. In big cities like the one where TUA is set, police departments can often receive more calls than their officers can respond to—especially in high-crime areas or if the department is understaffed. Even if the department has enough officers and dispatchers, simple things like distance can mean a squad car might not arrive to a house before things get ugly. But with a vigilante like Diego in the mix, families like the one he saves in the opening sequence have a better chance at survival.

But then Eudora reminds us that it isn’t that simple. Sure, Diego might be able to respond to a break-in more efficiently than many cops; and yes, he saved lives….but he also has no formal training, little respect for the chain of custody, and seemingly little regard for things like “rights of the accused.” He just storms in, overwhelms the assailants with sheer brute force, and gets out before the cops arrive. If any of the burglars in the opening sequence survived, a skilled attorney could probably not only ensure they escaped prison, but help them sue the police department for damages (”So you knew there was a dangerous vigilante on the streets, you knew he had a fondness for breaking bones and cracking skulls….and not only did you not take him off the streets, but one of your detectives dated him! Sounds to me like your department endorses his methods!”) Diego might have saved a lot of lives, but he’s also made sure more than a few violent criminals escaped prison, possibly going on to reoffend.

I’m not saying what Diego does hasn’t helped people, and I do think he’s at least partially motivated by altruism. Yes, he’s trying to prove himself as a hero; but I do think he genuinely wants to help those who can’t help themselves. But as Eudora points out, his actions have negative repercussions. It’s worth noting, and noting it adds a lot of maturity to the show.

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #diego hargreeves #eudora patch #relationships #cowboy cops #legal ramifications #complexity #anon #answered

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amys-snapshots · 4 years

Note

All of them for Cail 👀 fight me.

Yo 💀 This took ages, lol. But, I suppose I should thank ya because my mans has been somewhat of a mystery unintentionally.

1. Who do they look up to?

Cailean’s always aspired to be like his father: a good, honest, hard-working family man. So the obvious answer is his father.

2. Who do they look to for guidance?

Because his father has passed away, his mother. He also occasionally seeks counsel from his friends like Gus or Chad, and more recently, Aislyn. But if he still could, he’d go to his dad.

3. What would it take for them to betray the person they love?

Absolutely nothing. It’s not in Cailean’s nature to betray. Ironically, he himself has been betrayed by someone he loved, and had quite a tough time. It’s why he feels very strongly about secrets and lies.

4. Who is someone they’ve hurt?

My mans is a boy scout. He cherishes his relationships, romantic or otherwise, and is quick to apologize if he feels he’s done something wrong. He does, however, have a bad habit of cutting people out of his life if they’ve crossed him. And though those people deserve it, the action may have hurt them.

5. What is a secret that they have?

This would be considered a spoiler if I didn’t already mention it on here, but on the night Cailean’s father passed away they got into a fight. Cailean said something he regrets to him, and no one, not even his mother, knows about that whole situation. It’s something he’s ashamed of.

6. Would they trust anyone with their secret?

Yes; since it’s something that eats away at Cailean in the back of his mind, he wants to get it off of his chest eventually. And if/when he does, it will most likely be to the woman he loves - once that wall currently between them comes down.

7. Any family scandals? Does your character know about them?

Sort of. As his mother, Daphne, is the current police commissioner, there was an incident in which a newscaster did a piece accusing Mrs. DeCarlo of corruption. Cailean, and the rest of the town, were well aware of it, though it was ultimately unfounded.

8. Is there anyone that they currently aren’t speaking to? Why?

Yes. His ex-girlfriend, because of the aforementioned betrayal. What exactly it is that she did shall come up at a later time.

9. What is something that would break them emotionally?

If he were to tragically lose his mother as he had his dad. Cailean’s an only child, and as most of his relatives live out of the country, he’d feel quite lonely. Because his mother’s line of work is so dangerous, the thought is something that sadly crosses his mind from time to time.

10. Sacrifice the one to save many, or save the one no matter the cost?

Because a lot of the people in Cailean’s life are extremely selfless, he’d probably feel compelled to do whatever it takes for them because he knows they wouldn’t do so for themselves. So he’d save the one, no matter the cost.

11. Do they have any illnesses?

Nope.

12. What is the fastest way to upset them?

Lie. So ironic considering who he’s dating, I know.

13. What is something that makes them uncomfortable?

Cailean’s pretty comfortable discussing everything; he doesn’t shy away from discussing aspirations and fears. The only thing that causes him to tense up are a handful of specific incidents involving his parents; his father’s accident and mother’s scandal being some of them. He won’t flat out refuse to discuss them, but he will be initially uncomfortable at the conversation before relaxing the longer he talks.

14. What is something that never fails to make them excited?

Whether it be a new piece of equipment, or a new scenic location he can take photos in, anything related to photography will put Cailean in very high spirits.

15. Have they ever had their hair washed by another person?

As his buddy Chad is a hair stylist, he’s had his hair washed, cut, and styled for him before. He doesn’t experiment much with his look though.

16. What is the most romantic thing someone has done for them?

Recently, Aislyn took it upon herself to surprise him for his birthday and Valentine’s Day. She made him a home cooked meal, they watched a movie, and he received several gifts. Cailean doesn’t care much for overly grandiose, expensive, gestures, and finds meaning in the littlest of things so suffice to say, he was very touched.

17. Who is their favorite person(s) to spend time with?

Aislyn. Despite her rather frustrating tendencies, they have a lot of common interests which makes their conversations often lengthy and always enjoyable.

18. Neck kisses or shoulder kisses?

Neck kisses.

19. How do they feel about public displays of affection?

Cailean doesn’t mind or shy away from them. He won’t hesitate to reach for a hand, or go in for a kiss towards whomever he’s dating, regardless of who’s around or where they are.

20. Would they be the one to propose, the one hoping for a proposal, or no interest in marriage/the equivalent thereof?

Cailean’s very into the prospect of getting married and having a family. Once he feels he, and his partner, are at a place where they’re ready for it, he won’t hesitate to propose.

21. Do they prefer giving or receiving gifts?

Giving. Aside from birthday presents, Cailean’s quite bashful about receiving things, especially if he feels he hasn’t done anything to deserve it. On the other hand, he’s quick to buy things for others. He often thinks of his friends and family, and tends to buy things he knows they’d like, or things that just remind him of them.

22. How indecisive are they?

Not at all; he knows what he wants and what he likes.

23. What do they want most in life?

A family, and to be a father. He’d love to have a lot of kids - if his future wife is capable and on board, of course.

24. What do they think they’re good at, but aren’t?

Cailean’s very self-aware. He knows his strengths and weaknesses, and doesn’t pretend to be confident in something he knows he’s no good at.

25. What is something they think they’re bad at, but are actually pretty competent at?

Painting. Because Cailean takes so many pictures of real life settings, he thinks his paintings pale in comparison to nature’s beauty, but in reality, he’s not that bad.

26. What is something they’re legitimately bad at?

Anything music-related, whether it be remembering lyrics, playing an instrument or singing, he’s very aware that he’s not a musician by any means. Except for dancing, that he’s alright at.

27. Do they have any cool scar stories?

Nah, his body is bare, lol.

28. When left to their own devices, how would they spend a free day?

On a free day, Cailean would tinker with his camera, pack a picnic basket, invite out his girlfriend, and go out to a remote location with a pretty view or landscape. He’d spend the day photographing her, the scenery, and the changing sky.

29. What do they do to relax?

To unwind he’ll read a novel, or eat sweets.

30. What is their ideal sleeping situation?

On his side, preferably being big spoon, hehe.

31. Do they have a comfort food?

Cailean has a sweet tooth, so he enjoys anything warm and rich. He’d particularly enjoy chocolate pecan pie with vanilla bean ice cream.

32. What is their favorite thing to drink?

As he is Italiano, the obvious answer is coffee in various forms.

33. Do they have a signature accessory?

As of now, no.

34. How do they generally wear their hair?

On the longer side, but short of being considered medium length. At home he lets it hang loose, and at work or on a day out, he styles it back with some pomade.

35. What color would they paint their nails?

As he is a guy, he doesn’t - not to reinforce gender norms - but if he did, he’d probably put something blue like the sky and ocean he enjoys looking at so much.

36. Are there any holidays or celebrations they dislike?

Nope, the DeCarlos are all about family time and celebrations.

37. Are there any holidays or celebrations that they go all in for?

Thanksgiving. Cailean’s father has passed his culinary skills onto him, so you can expect him to prepare quite a colorful, flavorful, plentiful feast.

38. How would you describe their decorating sense?

Very rustic. Lots of wood and warm tones like orange, gold, brown and cream. Expect lots of lights, plants and paintings, as well as photographs taken by Cailean himself.

39. Would they rather have a picnic in the woods or a picnic on the beach

Cailean loves his trees and his oceans equally, so the winner will be the woods by a very slim margin because of the less populated setting; he enjoys some peace and quiet.

40. Blanket fort or tree house?

Tree house.

#thanks for the ask!#by question 24 i was ready to fight tho #i'm surprised to see you didn't go with J #but then again most of my answers would be spoilers and or redacted lol #asks

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namjoonchronicles · 5 years

Text

not about angels | two

↳ genre crime, thriller, angst, romance, psychological

↳ words 3.1k

↳ description Jungkook purchased a beautiful townhouse on the hills of La Bella Lake, fit for the richest of rich. Upon settling in, he discovers that the majestic house might have more secrets that it cared to let out. Little by little, with the help from a neighbor, the story of previous owner begins to unravel.

↳ characters Jungkook, Seokjin

↳ warnings mentions of blood, domestic violence, corruption

↳ glossary *grant, legal: meaning a grant of public land, especially to an institution, organization, or to particular groups of people.

↳ namjoonchronicles’ tag list @kai-tashi @septemberalien @joon94net @yourlocalalien @snugglemejeon @yoongiseesaw @majestikblue

↳ parts one | two | three | four | five

Kim Seokjin.

In the stuffy confinement of his office, Seokjin let out a heavy sigh. He absolutely despised commercial cases. The intricacy, the witness mentions, the twist and turns, the amount of money involved; a recipe for disaster, Seokjin concluded. But cases that fall in this category had been the ones of largest profit if everything turns right. If he were to be given a choice however, he wouldn’t take this case even if his firm depended on it. He’d rather do crime cases.

Mahogany wood, the fine smell of wooden varnish were some of the most eye catching criteria of the office. His self portrait hanging on the left wall, his law degree and companies he had associated with--decorated the otherwise, dull and uncharacteristic room. On the right corner, there were newspaper cliparts sounding the cases he had won and the argument he had used in the court as the headline. The picture of his alumni was also there to remind him where he came from. Family pictures? None. Carpets from Persia, custom-made couch made of black leather, tea sets from Ox Bone glass collection of Mainland China, runner from Morocco, they are all gifts from clients. Of all these gifts, the dove arc is his most prized one. They were from someone very important.

Walking over to his rows of files, Seokjin begins carding his fingers to the ones ongoing trials and those that has been a success. But he couldn’t fight the urge to push the front rack away and reveal the second rack behind it. There’s approximately four main boxes for this particular case. It was something that was very important to him. He paused at the sight of it, and felt himself holding his breath. For what? He didn’t know.

It took him back to few days ago, when Jungkook came over for a visit to his house.

He remembered it all too clearly. When the question left Jungkook’s lips, it felt insulting as it was comforting. Someone remembered that before the house was empty, it was someone’s home. The tragedy that happened in that house was unforgettable and yet, no one chose to talk about it. Or won’t.

“Do you know the previous owner of the house I lived in?” the young man asked. Do I know the man who lived next door? He was my best friend.

Was--is a painful fact to regain memory of. Seokjin’s forefinger glided along the rim of his teacup before he brought them to his supple lips, “Kim Namjoon used to live there,” pauses, “With his wife,” the lawyer spoke through the cup and took a soundless sip.

“Kim Namjoon was an engineer, a very talented one too. And his wife,” a succulent name passed, “She herself is a devoted woman, an activist, she ran an orphanage house before it was taken over by the Ministry.”

With the simple information, Jungkook was not very surprised. The next question implies his curiosity, “Where are they now?”

“Namjoon…” Seokjin pauses,

“Namjoon currently, is in the state prison.” The words felt corrosive as it left his lips, but it had to be said. It was the truth. The bitter truth.

“Why?”

“Domestic violence… and.”

The shrill sound from the ringing phone jolts Seokjin back into that day. It was his assistant, reminding him that he has lunch with a client. A man in his 60s, with bad breath and discolored dentures was his date. He has an obnoxiously loud laugh and had a bad reputation in public, especially as a customer. There was always something wrong with his food or his drink, or with the delivery of the said two. He would complain if the food didn’t come fast enough and threatens to not pay for any slight inconvenience he experiences.

The reason why Seokjin is withholding his anger?

Simple. The man brought him a lot of customers, clients and cases, you name it. The downside of erecting a personal firm is you will have to be grateful for cases that come. Doesn’t matter if the clients were in the right or in the wrong, Seokjin was thankful to have any cases at all. He had to rely on Mr. Bang’s connection and for his triumph and dismay Mr. Bang surely impresses with his suspiciously corruptive friends. That only meant endless money flow for Seokjin, to keep the firm running, to keep his assistant and pay the office bills. He is good at his job. That’s why, he didn’t understand why it happened.

Why did Namjoon rejected his help? His advice?

It was a pleasant morning one September when Seokjin heard a siren from a police car pulling to a stop where Namjoon lived. Seokjin grabbed his coat and walked outside. He jogged up the steep climb towards Namjoon’s house and he heard the police threatens to break down the door should Namjoon fails to open the door in a timely manner.

“What’s going on here officer?” Seokjin’s question went unanswered. “Kim Namjoon, by the warrant issued by Judge Kim, you are under arrest for domestic violence and murder of your wife on July 2nd 2016. You have the rights to remain silent,” the officer pushed Namjoon against the wall and had him cuffed. His shirt had blood stains, was what Seokjin remembered.

The officer continues, as he brought Namjoon down the flight of stairs, “Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law, you have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish.”

The car door is slammed shut, Namjoon’s expression remained unreadable. He kept his head down as Seokjin asked him what he did. Seokjin kept knocking on the car window, calling his best friend’s name. But the police took him away without stalling. Seokjin did what every friend should.

He secured the house shut and grabbed hold of the handle of his car and went after the entourage. He couldn’t believe what he heard, but he wasn’t going to sit around and wonder. He had questions and he will get answers. He would throw his law degree in the fire if they wouldn’t let him in.

Domestic violence? Murder? How ridiculous is that? On Namjoon?

The guy has puppies back in his hometown and left it there with his parents because his wife was allergic to it. Namjoon who asked him to cook for dinner because he wanted to surprise his wife with a good meal. Namjoon who puts aside his work because his wife was ill. And his wife? The lady so polite, everyone find pleasing to converse with. You had no problems establishing friendship and people trust you easily because you were honest. You fetched Namjoon from work and planned birthday parties for him. It was beyond imagination. Never once had Seokjin saw you being frightened of Namjoon, vice versa. No suspicious bruises that is resulted from a punch or anything like it. Seokjin couldn’t believe what he was hearing at the police station as the officers clarifies Namjoon’s accusations.

Namjoon was taken to custody and was granted an hour to meet his lawyer. Seokjin appointed himself as Namjoon’s representative and granted his way inside the interrogation room before the police started interrogating. It is stated in his rights.

“Before anything…” Seokjin laced his fingers together on the metal table, maintaining a sharp gaze on Namjoon, who is seated opposed to him.

The accused scratches the skin on the tip of his left eyebrow, his left hand followed suit because he still wasn’t uncuffed despite being under full surveillance in the police station. Seokjin wants to file a misdemeanor in handling a fully cooperative suspect, done by the officers when he has the chance to take in the case later. His car was equipped with the necessary documents and writing pads for a surprise arrest like this, so he had his pen ready.

“This is a first degree murder case, and domestic violence… For domestic violence, fines are not more than 400 thousand won and six months imprisonment, but for first degree murder, life imprisonment without parole and death penalty….I need to know if it’s…” Seokjin rambled in speed.

But Namjoon’s next respond wasn’t what he expected. After all he had come prepared, all Namjoon--his best friend, his neighbor could say was…

“The land grant is underneath the cupboard in the master bedroom. Sell the house,” Namjoon said, death in his voice.

“Namjoon, you could be hanged. You wouldn’t do this to your wife, Namjoon… I know you, I know her… please tell me this is a joke,” Seokjin desperately replied. Before he could say more, Namjoon bangs both of his shackled hand on the metal table, sending the police to rush inside to keep Seokjin safe. Seokjin stumbled and pushed his chair to fall back. His heart is racing, ringing in his ear. He had never seen this side of Namjoon in all their years of knowing each other.

Officers pushed Namjoon’s upper body, and slammed Namjoon’s face down on the table with a loud thud. They put his cuff behind him and cuffed his ankles as well. The sight had Seokjin holding his breath. Eyes wide, and panic rising. And still Seokjin heard Namjoon’s low voice, speaking through harsh hisses, his eyes pleading at his dear friend in desperation, as he groans against the surface of the table,

“Sell the house, Seokjin… Sell the fucking house, that’s all I need you to do.”

The sixty year old man’s face came to view and Seokjin scrambled to find his floating attention. “Your face drains blood when I asked you when was the last time you did a first degree murder case, are you sure you’re an experienced lawyer?”

Namjoon’s case was the first and the last homicide case Seokjin had ever encountered.

“It is not my forte,” Seokjin feigns a professional smile to hide his fear, “Murder case, blood and gory details, is not my cup of tea. I do appreciate a good backstory. I find it more interesting to listen than to deal with the people involved in it.”

Seokjin sighs as Mr. Bang comes back to being his whiny self, complaining to the waitress about his cold coffee after sending the half eaten steak back to the kitchen because it wasn’t cooked in the middle.

“But you ordered medium rare, sir,” the waitress explained. “I didn’t expect it to be that rare! My gums hurt,” Mr. Bang fusses.

It hurts because you wear dentures you old money laundering prick. Seokjin swirled his sparkling water and took a sip. He wipes the corner of his lips with the napkin and pushed his chair back. “I wish I could stay longer, sir I do,” he lied, “But I got a text message that I have an appointment. If it pleases you, shall I pay for your lunch today?”

Seokjin made enough, but not as much as Mr. Bang. But he knows the old man is a cheapskate. He also knows the reason behind his nitpicking is because he doesn’t want to pay. The steak was beyond alright. Succulent and well thawed. The mashed potatoes were perfectly seasoned and the asparagus were beautifully grilled. It was a superb lunch, Seokjin had. Even if the partner he had them with, wasn’t at par in terms of quality.

He didn’t want to stay any minute longer at the restaurant, embarrassed at the scene Mr. Bang caused. How can a multi-billionaire business owner make a fool out of himself like that? That’s what dirty money does to you. They rip you off your shame and make a national embarrassment out of you. Mr. Bang would kiss the prime minister’s shoe if it meant he could get a land without the necessary documents. He was granted a contract outside his financial capability and took more than he should which results to unpaid workers. And unpaid workers were angry and they filed lawsuit against Mr. Bang. Guess who had to come down, and persuade those workers and take commercial cases even though he dreads to? You’ve guessed it.

Cynical remarks from Mr. Bang dented his ego. Seokjin is once again standing before the rows of files and this time his gaze fell to case box labelled: Kim Namjoon. 2016. Homicide.

On the day where old case files are sent to be demolished along with its evidence, Seokjin came to repossess the box from the tractor. Not willing to let this case go. Not even his current assistant knew the existence of this file. Question is, what will he do with the case files if the one accused didn’t bother to reopen the case or find the need to defend himself? It’s like he accepted his fate far too easily.

Jungkook waits for Seokjin’s explanation.

“Namjoon loved his wife, very much…” he began, setting the cup down on the saucer and leans back to lace his fingers together. It rests on his lap as Seokjin looked outside the window where Namjoon’s house were, the house Jungkook is currently living in.

“Were they fighting?” Jungkook wondered, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “Nothing violent, never violent,” Seokjin reminisce.

Seokjin grew up with Namjoon. They were close up until college. Where they briefly parted ways due to difference in interest. While Seokjin is a fan of social activities, Namjoon is a meek and shy character. There’s many reasons to this. Namjoon’s parent was against his aspirations to be an engineer. They wanted him to continue the family business but Namjoon refused. So instead of mingling around those of his own social class, Namjoon chose his own friends.

Not an ounce in his blood was he talented in it. In business.

If anything, Namjoon was interested in things he wasn’t introduced with—the life he wasn’t a part of. He spent his term break building machines for rural areas, villages, helps children invent things, all kinds of things. Namjoon is the lover of nature and is in love with love. Something he thought he never had experience in. Namjoon is kind, attentive and fiercely loyal.

So when he fell in love, he fell hard.

“From what I could remember, they were everything a married couple should be,” Seokjin hums, his gaze casted downwards, “The way Namjoon looks at her, he was completely enamored. They were in love. He loves her.”

Namjoon is the epitome of a perfect husband. The couple usually rode bicycles together on the weekends and spent enormous time together, reading, walking. They weren’t shy about showing it to others. When they attended a neighborhood gathering, they had a synergistic energy, both very pleasant to be around and when they are next to each other, the sexual tension was high and everyone in the room could feel it. It was neither repelling, or inviting. It was just there. Always on her waist, his hands was always on her waist, and hers? They are always caressing his arms. They are always touching each other, even if they weren’t.

“There was once, their car was shaking uncharacteristically, parked just outside their house… the way it was moving, you don’t need any other explanation that they are… you know,” Seokjin chucks in a thinly lit smile, “They’re a bit of exhibitionist.”

“Was there foul play?”

Seokjin inhales deeply and exhales before he begins, “There once or twice or maybe more, I didn’t keep track, but they do bicker… just like any other married couples do,” Seokjin recalls.

One night, in the middle of June, the bickering seem to be continuous.

In a way, it increased in volume and it led Namjoon to leave the house several times. But without a driving license; Namjoon would knock on Seokjin’s door. They’ll watch anything on television. When Seokjin asks what happened, Namjoon would cast his gaze downwards and replied simply, “It’s just one of those days.”

One of those days, end of that very months in 2016, thunder crackling in the night sky signalling the impending rain that will arrive, Seokjin covers the shade to prepare for bed. But his curiosity won over him because when Seokjin looked through the opal shade of his bedroom window and saw Namjoon’s silhouette, he became extremely conscious. Namjoon seem to be backing away from his wife.

“In a glance, it seemed like she was telling him something he couldn’t accept. That’s how I rectify it...but I leave it at that because I was thinking about, ah, it’s just another argument. I remember being jealous about it, about having someone to fight with, and of course, they make up… they always do.”

Seokjin expected Namjoon to ring his door, but that night, he didn’t.

The next day, the couple was seen leaving together for work, just as Seokjin was watering his plant in his work attire. Namjoon bids him farewell. A little later that morning after sending Namjoon off, his wife asked Seokjin if Camellias will be good as a gift for a very good friend.

To which Seokjin replied, “Yes! Especially white, because they bring good luck!”

Jungkook kept his eyes on the saucer while Seokjin fetches another doughnut, “Would he have hit her?”

“I personally had never seen it. He wouldn’t hit a fly. He is meek and full of love for her. And so does she. When they’re apart, she’d text and call him, and vice versa. They planned to have a child…” long pause, “But maybe one night, he lost all control.”

Maybe he had threw his fist on her, grabbed her by the neck. Her feet dangling a couple inches from the floorboard. Her nails clawed into Namjoon’s hand as she turns blue. Veins protrudes on Namjoon’s forehead.

Maybe He did.

“How was her body found?”

A week had passed since the awful lunch date with Mr. Bang. He returned home very late that evening. Seokjin unlocked the front door while his garage shuts. Then his maid handed him a parcel that came through the mail. He threw a glance at Jungkook’s house from his wide window that stretches along the balcony. And he saw the boy writing in his night robe, wearing glasses out on the third floor balcony.

Today, a call came from prison. It was his best friend, Kim Namjoon.

“I have a visitor today. And he brought something that he thought belonged to me. His name was Jeon Jungkook. He asked me why I killed my wife.”

The phone call ended before Seokjin could say he was sorry. He wasn’t sure what he was sorry about. He only did what Namjoon told him to do. And that was to sell the house.

And to take his mind off of it, Seokjin unwrapped the parcel and was struck by a familiar, tantalizing scent. In that parcel, delivered without a return address, lies a single stalk of white Camellia.

“Where was her body found?” “They never did.”

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geek-patient-zero · 5 years

Text

Part 1, Chapter 1

Or: Big Detective

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors, and looking them piteously in the eyes--die with despair of heart and convulsion of throat, on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be revealed.

“The Man in the Crowd”

Edgar Allen Poe

I’ve heard people say that beginning stories with quotes like this is pretentious, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered some for stories I’ve been thinking up. I’m partial to the “feel for your hatchet” quote from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe for one of them. As for how this quote relates to the story, I guess it’s a good way to describe the Masquerade, or the World of Darkness in general, or as a fancy way of hinting to the audience about the nature of the story’s mysteries. Or it just sounds cool?

St. Louis—March 10, 1994

Missouri isn’t the place I’d expect a vampire story to be set, but I guess everywhere has its shadowy underworld.

Two years after the prologue, we’re introduced to the first of the main viewpoint characters. He realizes he’s being followed, thanks to “A sixth sense, the result of years of detective work...” He pretends to scratch his foot and casually scans the crowd.

It was late, nearly midnight, but in St. Louis’ ‘adult’ entertainment strip, things were just starting to happen.

Dozens of people crowded the sidewalk. Men and women, black and white, they were all part of the usual weekend crowd. Cheap whores in black leather outfits that exhibited all of their charms mixed with high-class hookers dressed in silks. In a tough economy, both were anxious for business. Teenagers and college students hunted for drugs, bargaining with street dealers for the best price. Red-faced drunks begged for quarters. Young kids, dressed in rags and violating the curfew, danced on street corners, looking to grow up fast.

A hellhole full of life, in other words.

Young and old, they shared one trait in common. None of them expressed the least bit of interest in the motionless figure of Dire McCann.

We get the full name of our first main POV character. It reminds me of when one of the Penny Arcade guys named their D&D character “Jim Darkmagic”, but without the self awareness.

Dire had been traveling around America for the past few months, so he doesn’t know who he could have pissed off enough recently to get someone to track him. He’s recently been working for Alexander Vargoss, “a rich and powerful industrialist”, and, unsurprisingly, a vampire.

McCann couldn’t believe that his missions for Vargoss had anything to do with his tail tonight. Nobody with any intelligence, even major crooks, hassled the secretive industrialist or interfered with his plans. Besides being incredibly wealthy, with connections in both the police department and the mayor’s office, Vargoss was also the most powerful vampires in St. Louis. In the argot of the Kindred, he was the Prince of the city. And, like the medieval princes of old, from whom the term had been taken (yeah, no shit), Vargoss ruled with an iron hand. Any Kindred or kine (human) foolish enough to cross him ended up dead. The permanent end of the Final Death.

The narrator tells us a little about McCann.

Mysteries annoyed McCann.

Then you’re in the wrong profession, buddy. Wrong franchise too, come to think of it.

Especially when they revolved around him. Though he possessed extraordinary patience, the detective never delayed the inevitable, As he repeatedly told acquaintances, he liked to face the devil straight up.

I’m now picturing McCann as one of those guys who force a catchphrase and annoy those acquaintances by trying to insert it into everything as the whole room groans.

“Beer shouldn’t be green, even when it’s St. Patrick’s Day. But I’ll try one anyway, cause as we all know... I like to face the devil straight up.”

Luckily for the other characters, he doesn’t actually use that phrase in the story.

Oftentimes, that policy lead to bloodshed. But McCann, though he deemed himself the quiet type, was no stranger to violence. When necessary, he was quite deadly.

It’s mentioned that McCann’s carrying a stack of letters and a small box, and goes on to explain McCann’s mail collecting habits; how he collects from an all-night delivery center because while it’s more expensive he at least doesn’t have to worry about clerks stealing anything valuable.

The certainty of being watched had not started until after he had retrieved his mail. That perplexed McCann. A stakeout meant a long-term commitment of time and resources. He wondered who was after him? And why? The detective meant to find out.

We’ve safely established that Dire McCann is one of those old hard boiled mystery novel style private eyes. One who occasionally does jobs for a vampire. Nowadays private detectives are usually portrayed as weird creeps who bug phones and peek in windows to take photos of cheating spouses, like paparazzi for normal folk. More realistic, sure, but not a portrayal that’d last long in this setting. They’d end up seeing much more than they should, and being weird creeps with a borderline illegal profession instead of quiet but deadly badasses with careful mail collecting habits, they’d be easily killed to uphold the Masquerade.

McCann decides to face the devil straight up and heads into a nearby alley that he’s familiar with, preparing a trap. As he goes through the alley, we’re told that McCann is a great big slab of meat of a man.

A big, broad-shouldered man, standing four inches over six feet and weighing near two-fifty, the investigator moved with astonishing swiftness.

Guess he’s called “Dire” because he’s to a normal dude what a dire wolf is to a normal wolf. Still a goofy name.

The alley is dark, no lights except for moonlight, and there’re rats and trash everywhere. Time for some social commentary.

McCann stifled a snort of disgust. So much for keeping the neighborhoods clean. The main streets looked fine, but out of sight, just beyond the bend, urban decay ruled. Decades of graft and corruption had taken their toll on basic city services. St. Louis was no different from every big city. The rich and famous received all the benefits of modern life, while the poor and middle class suffered with the crumbs. Things never really changed, McCann decided, his gaze searching the walls. At least not in his lifetime.

The story is peppered with bits like this. The World of Darkness is a Harsher, Crueler Version of Our World, but sometimes it can get a little too real. You’ll see. Oh, and don’t think I missed that ominous last line about his lifetime. The narration insists that Dire McCann is human, though...

McCann hides in an alcove a dozen steps away from the twelve-foot high steel privacy fence the alley ends at, out of sight from anyone following him. From his topcoat (all the implied hard-boiledness of a trenchcoat but without looking like a hobo) he pulls out his gun. Vampires are hard to kill and most guns are useless against them, but since it takes time for them to heal enough force can immobilize them. That’s why the narration, somewhat over dramatically. reveals that McCann’s gun isn’t a .45 automatic or a .375 Magnum, but an Ingram MAC 10, whose bullets “could rip any normal man to shreds and smash a vampire flat.”

Eventually, the guy tailing McCann shows up.

Hugging the shadows, the newcomer was a short, stocky man in his mid-thirties, with swarthy, cruel features.

Swarthy, huh? As descriptions go, swarthy is like the evil twin of “olive-skinned”. Both are used by fantasy writers to describe people of color, but in a vague way that doesn’t tell you their actual ethnicity so sometimes they could just be white people with tans like the Dornishmen in A Song of Ice and Fire. While “olive-skinned” is generally a catch-all term, “swarthy” is more negative. Which is unfortunate since swarthy literally means “dark skinned”. Now, I don’t want you to think I’m accusing Robert Weinberg of being racist. I’ve heard people say that they thought swarthy meant something like “roguish”, like a thief or pirate or something. But I wouldn’t recommend using swarthy as a description when writing.

Also he’s called “swarthy” like five goddamn times.

The tail realizes he lost McCann and goes to examine the fence at the end of the alley, walking past McCann’s hiding spot in the process. Trap sprung, McCann steps out behind the tail MAC-10 aimed at him. After some back and forth (“Lose something, brother?” “McCann, right?”) McCann tries to ask who-

The detective never completed the sentence. The stranger’s right hand twisted unexpectedly. As if by magic, a thin cord flashed out from beneath the man’s arm and-wrapped whip like around the Ingram. McCann was caught completely by surprise. Before he could squeeze down on the trigger, the gun went flying from the detective’s hands.

Phhhhthahaha, that’s great! After all that build-up over how he uses a kickass MAC-10 instead of a Magnum like that pussy Dirty Harry, he’s immediately disarmed. By a guy who turns out to be a regular human, too.

Free of the threat of the submachine gun, the swarthy man attacked with a ferocity that had McCann reeling. A series of savage karate kicks to his chest sent the detective stumbling backwards. Steel-tipped boots felt like hammers striking McCann’s body. Growling deep in his throat, the assassin leapt into the air, aiming a sideways thrust for the detective’s head. Enough force propelled to crush McCann’s skull like an eggshell. But it never connected.

McCann grabs and twists the leg, breaking the assassin’s kneecap, then knocks him out with a wooden box. After a few minutes of searching, McCann finds his gun and the assassin’s rope.

A long thin strand of black fiberglass it was knotted in three places to crush to crush a man’s windpipe on impact. The weapon successfully melded melded modern technology with ancient sacrificial ritual.

Huh. Sounds like an interesting weapon for a guy who’ll turn out to be an unimportant throwaway assassin.

You ever heard of the inverse ninja law? How the more enemies the hero has to fight at once, the easier they are to defeat, while just one guy is a real threat? There’s a related trope that this scene reminded me of; the more unusual an opponent’s weapon is, the harder they are to defeat. A ninja wielding a katana is gonna be a chump, but the guy with the chain with a scythe at the end? Watch out for that guy. It would explain how the assassin could instantly disarm McCann like some sort of kung fu lord but go down in one move not long after he throws the rope away.

Course, that’s just tropey shit. The more practical reason the assassin lost was because he didn’t just shoot McCann after disarming him, instead resorting to riskier physical combat. But that’s why tropes like the inverse ninja law exist. They typically make the fight scenes more exciting and varied depending on context. It wouldn’t be much of a story if McCann lost his gun and then got shot in the head.

Still kind of funny how eccentric the guy’s weapon is and how much of a physical threat he briefly posed compared to how he’s about to be described. Reminds me of something I wrote during my teenage online role playing story days, where two of the protagonists fought some nameless generic guard and I made it weirdly dramatic and over the top.

McCann ties the assassin’s hands behind his back, with his own fiberglass rope to add insult to injury. He attempts to interrogate the assassin, who responds by demanding to be taken to the police and given a lawyer.

McCann smiled. “Funny thing about this part of town. Cops don’t come around here very often. They figure anyone crazy enough to wander about deserves what they get.” McCann rapped the muzzle of the gun against his prisoner’s undamaged knee. “You’re on your own, my friend. Back here, we’re isolated from view. Nobody can see or hear a thing. There’s no cops, no lawyers. Just you and me. And my gun.”

MAC-10 shots echoing out of an alley would get some attention, but the threat works. The assassin starts sweating and flickering his gaze between McCann and the gun.

Mentally, the detective shrugged in disgust. (Don’t ask me what a mental shrug is) He was wasting his time threatening this clown. It took a lot more than a veiled threat to worry a true professional. The swarthy man was cheap talent, hired merely as a diversion.

A cheap talent clown who was kicking your ass a few minutes ago, you smug meathead.

This bit highlights the problem with the previous fight scene. This assassin was shown just a few paragraphs ago to be an expert with an unusual weapon who could turn the tables on McCann even though the detective had snuck up on him and had a submachine gun aimed at him, and a good enough physical fighter to overpower McCann with karate kicks and nearly cave his head in, but now he’s presented as an incompetent and disposable pawn who whines about wanting a lawyer. The scene could have just had the assassin pull a gun on McCann, who quickly subdues him. It’d fit the assassin’s later description as unprofessional and amateur better. Instead, Weinberg tried to go for “cool’ but ended up with “silly”. So remember, writing something just because it’s cool is fine, but try to make it consistent with the rest of the story.

Now what was that about the assassin being “hired merely as a diversion?”

A decoy! The thought slammed through McCann as the sensation of being observed suddenly flared. Instead, the big detective flung himself flat on the ground in the darkness.

I like the needless qualifier that McCann is a big detective. There’s something cute about it.

The realization that this assassin was a decoy apparently triggered a sort of spider-sense. The moment McCann, who is large, dove to the ground, a second assassin opened fire at him from the corner of the alley. They missed McCann, despite his above-average size, but killed the first guy. McCann fires back, but the new assailant already fled.

“Strike quickly, then move. That was the operational procedure of a true professional. Never waste time on meaningless chatter or second tries. Mistakes like that were for amateurs like the dead man sprawled against the wall.

Oh what the hell is this? McCann was the one caught off guard by “meaningless chatter.” He was disarmed by the first assassin while he was talking to him. The guy was easily bamboozed by McCann’s “hide in an alcove and sneak up on him when he passes” trap, but McCann totally blew that advantage by talking so it doesn’t really count. The guy’s just blaming the poor dead man for his own screw ups. “A true professional wouldn’t have let himself get hammered in the chest by karate kicks, unlike this dead clown who totally got karate kicked and not me. Also wouldn’t have been disarmed by my, not his, weird rope thing that’s totally mine, not his.”

The big dick thinks “the real assassin” was gone.

A short, muffled gasp and a flash of white leather indicated that McCann jumped to the wrong conclusion. The detective shook his head in disbelief. The night held more surprises than he liked.

Three figures stepped into the moonlight.

We finally meet some goddamn vampires.

Their leader was a tall, aristocratic man with a face that appeared to be carved from weathered stone. He wore a black tuxedo with a ruffled white shirt, a red bow tie, and a matching red cummerband. To McCann, it was a costume right out of a wedding. Or a funeral. The detective, though, knew better than to speak his thoughts. No one dared insult Alexander Vargoss, Ventrue Clan elder. And the vampire Prince of St. Louis.

Gotta say, despite him being a Ventrue, I can respect the man for not being above walk down a filthy rat infested alley wearing a fancy wedding outfit just to dramatically reveal himself to the big oaf he occasionally employs.

A step behind him stood two nearly identical platinum blondes. White leather jumpsuits clung to their voluptuous figures like second skins. High cheekbones, pitch black eyes, and wide sensuous lips gave them a predatory look.

Well yeah, it’s a 90′s dark fantasy novel. Of course they’re hot.

McCann had encountered them before. They were Fawn and Flavia, Vargoss’s twin bodyguards. Silent and deadly, they never spoke. Or acted without direct command of their Ventrue employer. Assamite assassins, the twins enjoyed their notorious nicknames as the Dark Angels of the Kindred.

A name like ~*~The Dark Angels~*~ seems quaint nowadays, but again, 90′s fantasy novel. But hey, maybe they were named by a Toreador.

Fawn’s holding the corpse of the second assassin, a “horrified expression frozen on his face.” She has blood on her upper lip like an old “Got Milk” ad.

With a flick of her long tongue, she wiped it clean. Then, mischievously, the vampire smiled seductively at McCann.

The detective shuddered. Though she looked to be in her early twenties, McCann knew the girl and her sister were actually hundreds of years old. Oftentimes, the pair mocked him with suggestive gestures. They enjoyed pretending that passion still stirred within their perfect forms. But McCann wasn’t fooled. Along with food and drink, vampires no longer craved sex. For them, hot blood was the ultimate high. Carnal pleasures meant little to them. However, McCann had heard tales of Kindred who had taken human lovers in a desperate attempt to regain some of their lost humanity. The notion made his flesh crawl.

Way to be judgmental, investigatore grande.

There aren’t any actual sex scenes in this book, but trust me, the subject of undead sex will come up again.

Vargoss gives one of those humble little “we were just in the neighborhood” explanations. Specifically, they were on their way to McCann’s office to be haughty little undeads to their human freelance employee in a proper setting when they saw him enter the alley followed by “two lowlife scum”. They figured McCann wouldn’t want their help, so they stayed hidden.

“However, when your adversary chose to flee rather than fight, I demanded he stop.” Vargoss shook his head in mock despair. “The fool chose instead to pull his weapon on me. Fawn, of course, reacted.”

McCann loots the bodies, finding some money and a billfold he’ll examine later. There’s a paragraph giving us another glimpse at how cruel the world (of darkness) is, telling us that the assassins will be mistaken for vagrants and that since there’s fifty unexplained deaths in St. Louis every month, two dead bums won’t be mentioned in the newspaper. McCann says that Vargoss could’ve warned him before the second assassin started shooting.

“Nonsense,” said the Prince, smiling. “I had absolute confidence in your ability to deal with the situation. Circumstances proved that my trust was not misplaced.”

“That first fight, however, there I overestimated you. A shorter man with a rope was taking you to school for a while. No, don’t pull the stoic grumpy private eye act and deny what happened. We all saw it.”

“And if you were wrong?”

“There are other humans, McCann,” said the Prince. “Never forget that. I find you vastly entertaining. And quite useful despite your mortal limitations. I would mourn your passing. But you are not indispensable. There will always be others to take your place. In five hundred years, you will be no more than a pleasant memory. I will still remain.”

Vampires are to other monsters what elves are to other fantasy races: smug little shits. It’s why more people fantasize about banging werewolves and fish people these days. But Vargoss is talking down to McCann of all people here, so I’ll let it side.

“What a cheerful sentiment,” said the detective. He picked his words very carefully. Vargoss appreciated his honesty and his sarcasm—within limits. No vampire in St. Louis mocked the Prince of the city. Much less a human, no matter how entertaining. McCann tiptoed on a tightrope where undead horrors feared to tread.

“Ah, McCann. What a scamp he is with his silly first name and his sarcastic barbs. But not too sarcastic. He knows I can make him defecate in his hands and throw it at other people like the big ape he is.”

“I cannot afford the luxury of emotions,” declared Vargoss, almost wistfully. “We Kindred are an ambitious race. It is part of our heritage. More than a few of my loyal subjects believe that they should rule this city, not I. Too many of my nights are spent squelching their ill-conceived plots.”

I’m imagining Vargoss being voiced by David Warner here. You know, the guy who voiced Ra’s al Ghul in Batman: The Animated Series, The Lobe in Freakazoid, and that one crappy villain from Gargoyles.

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” said McCann.

“Shakespeare understood the politics of power,” said Vargoss. “He should have been one of us.”

As long as he wouldn’t be made a Toreador, ‘cause then he’d spend his eternal life writing just the shittiest plays and sonnets imaginable. Also, careful there, Mr. Weinberg. Remember than Edgar Allen Poe is your dead poet waifu. You don’t want to make him jealous.

Vargoss has had enough witty back and forth and commands McCann to come to his club around midnight. He has a guest from overseas with news of “extremely disturbing events” from the former Soviet Union and for whatever reason he wants some human detective’s opinion on it.

“I’ll be there”, said the detective . “At midnight.”

“Because as we all know-”

“McCann, no-”

“I like to face the devil straight up.”

“Damn you, Dire McCann... Who’s even the devil in this context? What’s going on overseas? Me?”

Vargoss and the ~*~Dark Angels~*~ leave. As the chapter ends, McCann is standing alone in the alley with the two corpses.

Holding in his hands a small box and a stack of letters, several with foreign postmarks. And an enigmatic smile on his face.

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #vtmb #world of darkness #vampire: the masquerade #blood war

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