#but now he is hanging out in opium dens

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What- what does Alphard think the Knight bus is? "Functionally a brothel"??? Is it?

The Man Who Would Be King by me and @therealvinelle

In the words of @therealvinelle in a comment that asked just this

It's a bus consisting of beds that nobody ever takes, the people on it are just on it for the sake of… hanging out, nothing to see here… and no one takes it apart from Harry that one time he accidentally flagged it down. Never mentioned as an option by anybody, and as Heyob wrote in their fic (as we had the same idea at the same time, I love Heyob for this) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54186907) Ernie is paid enough to tell people not to fuck on the beds but not enough to recite that rule. In other words, that Knight Bus is just so unbelievably shady, massive opium den vibes, I'm if Harry asked Stan would have given him a blunt.

My answer is functionally the same but I can go into more detail.

Who Takes the Knight Bus

We have generally one solid general reason people would deign to take the Knight Bus: those who cannot Apparate and those who cannot use the Floo network.

Now, this might be those who could not afford Apparition lessons and or never passed their exams as well as those who are not on the Floo network in general. You could also have those who legally cannot Apparate, such as Harry when he was underage in book three. And also those who are not in a state to Apparate or Floo: in other words those who are hopelessly inebrieated.

Basically, if you can do the other two though (or portkey) you're not taking it because you can get where you're going faster, easier, cheaper (Knight Bus takes longer and while costs miniscule sickles that still more sickles than you'd pay to Apparate and you have to deal with the fucking bus).

So daytime hours you might have a small but decent commuting crowd during rush hour or what have you the same you do in most public transit.

But what happens when everything... closes...

Now you don't have the people going to and from work or to and from stores, everything's closed. When Harry rides it in third year at night, we see everything weirdly change to beds and the people riding it are just... loitering around... not leaving. They're in fact all served refreshments.

What you have then are the drunk people returning from pubs who are too sloshed to go home/don't want to go home yet and people who don't want to rent a room for however much money/be at a known establishment where people might recognize them and instead pay 3 sickles to ride the bus with the beds on it to have their fun.

Basically.

It's the shadiest fucking thing to be riding at three am and there is no universe in which it is not functionally a brothel between the hours of 12 to 5 am per the way JKR describes its operations.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #the knight bus #the man who would be king #alphard black #meta #opinion #headcanon #vinelle #therealvinelle

[grjarchive]

Fool For Love (1989)

The next day was hanging day, the sky was overcast and black Big Jim lay covered up, killed by a penknife in the back And Rosemary on the gallows, she didn't even blink The hanging judge was sober, he hadn't had a drink The only person on the scene missing was the Jack of Hearts — Bob Dylan, "Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts"

Seems like the cover artist was a bit nostalgic for the Lonesome Dreams era with that art, eh? In fairness, so was GRJ; those of us who look into such things have noted that Fool For Love is probably the biggest throwback of the Strange Trails novels, and the most "western" of this more modern (well, at the very least, firmly twentieth-century-set, if a couple decades back) series. Not too surprising, then, that we get the most extravagant depiction of George's Place as a "western" bar, and Either Buck Vernon or Remy Fusil (more likely, given the etymology of his name) with a pistol that doesn't actually figure into the story.

Ironically, this is one of the few Strange Trails stories that isn't a throwback in some sense, in that it's not a story in flashback. No, this one takes place on the very night that all the previous novels have been told as stories, and it marks the point where the night really goes off the rails.

... Or maybe it doesn't, because maybe it's not connected to the canon at all. Right at the beginning of this one, Buck Vernon, our narrator once more, admits to the reader that "sometimes, I see things that others say they cain't. I don't think that makes 'em unreal, but may well be I'm watching like through the window in the dark at the bottom of a broken bottle, seeing my other lives." That's as close to a fourth wall break as you'll get directly from GRJ in any story, here disguised as a fifth or sixth wall break, shattering layers of reality beyond the simple biniverse of story-truth that we all pass through without thinking on when we pick up a musty paperback. This before he tells a whole story using names that weren't in the bar up until then, and a lover named Lily who sounds almost, but not quite, like lovely Lee, whose story was just told. Li-Lee? Objectively, before we really get going, we do know that Buck came out to spin some tunes for the crowd at George's, that the set's done now and he's sitting back having a few too many while Dylan plays on the jukebox - that very tune in the epigraph is the one described, and it's notable that in the story Buck narrates in real-time, names of characters come into play.

The WBUB special based on this book didn't help with the character confusion either. Don't judge the book by the adaptation, obviously. That's always the rule.

A young fool (Buck himself, thinking he'll play the victorious Jack of Hearts in Dylan's tale?) psyches himself up and picks a fight with Big Jim (Remy Fusil?), lover of Lily. The World Enders, who are still hanging around, and the Tumbleweeds, who we're just meeting now but may be the descendants of Sri Tumbleweed's thugs from Time To Run, get caught up in things. The brawl spreads, chapter by chapter, to bring everyone in, even crashing into the Cambodian opium den behind George's which we only heard referenced in Love Like Ghosts. But things don't go well for our hopeless romantic Buck of Hearts. After a seeming escape from the chaos, Buck finds himself in a back alley where, well, spoilers, but there's a reason that the rest of the Strange Trails stories, especially Buck's, run evermore fantastically through that deep dark wooded valley between the ridges of death and life.

Keep following this blog for more insight into Johnson's work through the years.

May you live until you die!

#fool for love #strange trails #george ranger johnson #grj #vintage pulp #pulp #buck vernon #pulp art #remy fusil #lee green #vintage paperbacks #western

[plateauofmemories]

Okay, a collection of Speakeasy comments, including also spoilers:

About Maxim + Nika route:

I got that bad end the first time, and I did go back to see if changing my choice there could get me out of it. It could! Two sets of choices from that point got me a worse end, which was not as satisfying to me in the angst department as the first one I got, and a good end, which was very nice. I'm not sure how "ends" are counted in this game (there's not like, an end list/gallery) - only the good end got me a credit roll, so idk if the others were just dead ends, or if those are all/most of the endings for the Max and Nika route and it really only does diverge at that late point.

It's so funny to me in hindsight because like. If you look at the character profiles from the kickstarter, it lists their sexual orientations. If you play at least some of the other routes first, probably all of them, you get to see some of the relationships between the characters that already exist. I did not look at the character materials. I played the Maxim + Nika route first. And like, the third thing that happens in chapter 1 is Vincent, speakeasy boss and not one of the capturables of this route, tells us to get out so he can suck my love interest's boss's dick, and like. It took me completely by surprise. Cora is sputtering about the Greeks nonsensically to Milo and I am sitting there like sonic_whoa_he's_bisexual.jpg (which I knew about Max, but like, not Vincent). True moment of connection for me with the MC.

I also picked them first because I thought that I would like them best and that is true so far. This is also troublesome because like. I like them best. I'm doing other routes and I hit a boring spot and I'm just like. Where's Nika I want to hang out with Nika. It doesn't help that the answer to the question "where is Nika?" is probably "rotting in an opium den" 😔

Also this route made me feel a bit stupid because it's like. taking place in the 1920s. My aristocratic Russian lover tells me all his family is dead. What could have happened? And then later we get to a reveal and Nika says something about the Bolsheviks and it's like. Ah. The Russian Revolution. Is a thing that happened. Not that long before this game's timeframe. Sorry for being dumb, boys.

Also liking them best is true problem I started Silas's route and I had to stop and go replay the beginning of their route before I was like. Okay. I can move on now.

Silas's route

I played through this once and got a good end. I haven't felt motivated to go back and like, look for other endings. It was fine! He's sweet. Parts of the route are mad dumb though.

Made a post about this already but I was on edge thinking he was going to go yandere on me. He did not. Also Uncle Harry was the piece of shit behind the animal stealing.

Milo's route

Played this one tonight, got a good ending. Cora is a little more frustratingly dumb at some points in this route but I liked it better overall than Silas's. Got into some real sketchy illegal speakeasy shit in this one though (but that's pretty obvious going in). And I mean, obviously they all have illegal speakeasy shit in them, that's the whole premise of the game, but Milo is like, the enforcer, so it's a heavier serving.

I also did find it darkly funny after Vincent has done some Truly Heinous Fucked Up Shit to the bootlegger guy and then is looking around at his horrified crime family like. C'mon you guys what's all the fuss. His route is undoubtedly going to be unhinged.

I feel like I should have more but truly I am still just. Thinking Lots about Maxim and Nika. Also in the other routes it does seem that the cgs are all mostly nsfw but it takes longer to get to the porn. Max and Nika are fucking while Cora is watching by like chapter 3.

#plateauofmemories plays speakeasy #speakeasy game spoilers

[adultswim2021]

The Drinky Crow Show #8: “Elephant Man” | January 5, 2009 - 12:15AM | S01E07

This is one of the few episodes of Drinky Crow that I remember watching on television. I liked this one fine, but I didn’t really have a dramatically different take on it this time around. You know, the kind of dramatically different take that might, MIGHT, make a crapped-out write-up on a bad blog really sparkle.

Drinky calls the suicide hotline and makes a friend in the Elpehant Man, who works the Suicide Hotline. Drinky seduces Elephant Man to his suicidal worldview, and the two start hanging out without Gabby doing “suicide stuff”. Gabby steals the Elephant Man away out of jealousy and uses him to get pussy. Elephant Man now has a boost in confidence, which makes him decide to get “the surgery”. I mean, plastic surgery, to make him look pretty.

Turns out Drinky, without Gabby, has turned his life around to such a degree that he’s the surgeon. Gabby begs him to throw the surgery, which is being viewed by an audience. After a difficulty arrises, Gabby encourages Drinky to fall off the wagon, and tosses him a bottle of hooch as if it’s Popeye’s spinach. Gabby acts as his nurse even, while triumphant music plays. The pair walk away, pleased with the miracle they just worked. The episode ends with the grim reveal that they just mangled his body into pieces and that the Elephant Man is now dead.

Despite having seen this before, it does move in a surprising way. This show performs absurdist plots pretty well, and it’s well documented that that’s the “sort of stuff I like”. I think I laughed once out loud, which is pretty good all things considered. Okay, jokes I liked: 

Both Gabby and Elephant Man’s utterances of “I thought you said this guy was fun” (when Elephant Man tells Gabby he doesn’t drink and when Gabby tells Elephant Man he’s not suicidal, respectively). 

Drinky at an opium den but at the end of his hookah is just a bottle of liquor.

The reveal that Drinky is a surgeon is funny, but it’s explained by the fact that he’s been away from Gabby’s no-good influence. I preferred the initial impact of the joke, where I thought Drinky was just casually revealing that he’s been a surgeon this whole time.

There is a small part of the episode where it's revealed that Elephant Man has a hot mom who it's implied she's in an inappropriate sexual relationship with. I left this out of my write-up, because the only thing I thought during this reveal was "lucky!" and I would rather not unpack that.

EPHEMERA CORNER:

Frisky Dingo - Season Two DVD (January 6, 2009)

Frisky Dingo Season Two came out, which is nice, because it’s better than season one. This release was fairly bare, except for the inclusion of a promo for the DVD release itself and an EXCLUSIVE SHORT (which you can find on youtube) that bridges the gap between Frisky Dingo and the then-thought-to-be-upcoming Xtacles series. What actually happened is the two episodes of Xtacles aired as a special, and then later this came out.

The DVD was likely produced to come out before The Xtacles, back when the plan was to actually make a full season. It seems like a shameful missed opportunity that the two Xtacles shorts couldn’t have found a home on this volume. I just want some decent-looking copies of them online.

MAIL BAG: 

Been sick. Managed to build up a queue to keep Space Ghost Week going through the holidays. Didn’t foresee myself getting sick immediately after Thanksgiving was over. Don’t know how it happened. Nobody else I spent time with got sick. I even threw up a whole bunch one night. That sucks! You’re not supposed to puke! You’re not supposed to be sick at all. Not covid. Got to take two days off work. Luckily I'm all better, and get to go to work now, a place where I physically can't watch movies all day. What fun!

i can think of one joke you cribbed from kids in the hall, if i remember scott thompson is in a bear costume when he says it

Spiritually I’m more quoting the other guy in the sketch–HEY WAIT

ugh joey fatone. awful.

His voice is even bad. He just seems like a guy who doesn’t understand how sweaty he is, and he keeps trying to sit next to you and he even puts his head in your lap at one point. Joey Fatone... HANG UP THE STUFF.

#adultswim2021 #adult swim #the drinky crow show

[killerandhealerqueen]

Beautiful Scars

Inspired by prompt: Zhan Junbai gets hurts and while Yu Tangchun is taking care of him, he notices his body covered in scars 

There were many reasons as to why Zhan Junbai never joined Jiang Yuelou in his crime crackdowns or his raids of opium dens but one of the main reasons he never joined was because he wasn’t particularly fond of how hurt Jiang Yuelou constantly got.  Like, he knew that police officers got hurt, like that was a given, but never to the extent that Jiang Yuelou tended to get hurt.  Yet, here he was, standing at Jiang Yuelou’s side outside a worn-down building, gun in his hand. “You didn’t have to come, Zhan-xiong” Jiang Yuelou murmured, glancing over at Zhan Junbai, who huffed. “Then you shouldn’t have asked for my help” he replied, giving Jiang Yuelou a look and a playful smirk.  Jiang Yuelou smiled. “I just thought you’d might like to stretch your legs” he replied innocently.  Zhan Junbai scoffed. “Bullshit” he murmured.  Jiang Yuelou chuckled before his smile fell away and he looked at Zhan Junbai. “You find the kids; we’ll take care of the rest” he declared.  Zhan Junbai nodded as he pulled the slide back on his gun. “Let’s go” he agreed.  Jiang Yuelou nodded before he looked over at Sun Yongren, Song Rong, and his other officers and nodded again, all of them nodding in return as he turned his attention back to the door.  He then lashed out, kicking the door open before storming inside, Zhan Junbai right at his side.  The moment they stepped inside, gunshots started firing at them, causing them to duck behind crates to give themselves a shield before they began firing back.  As they were firing at the kidnappers, Zhan Junbai looked over at Jiang Yuelou. “Cover me” he ordered.  Jiang Yuelou glanced back at him before he nodded, both men standing up at the same time, Jiang Yuelou letting off shot after shot as Zhan Junbai ran through the warehouse, searching for the kidnapped kids from the orphanage he was funding.  He searched high and low for them and as he was searching, a few kidnappers came running towards him, their guns drawn, but he was a soldier; nothing scared him.  He calmly raised his gun and fired with insane precision, watching as they all went down like bowling pin, bullet holes in between their brows.  He continued to mow down kidnappers who continued to come running towards him, dodging their bullets before retaliating with his own.  After he had mowed down the kidnappers, he continued to search for the children, soon finding them hiding in a corner of the warehouse by some old crates, all of them huddled together.  The minute he found them, he let out a sigh of relief as he knelt before them. “You’re safe now.  You’re going to be okay” he promised, just as a searing pain shot through his shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain and make the children scream in fear.  Zhan Junbai then slowly reached behind him and touched his shoulder, his hand coming back covered in blood.  He stared at his bloody hand, his eyes blowing eyes as he let out a harsh breath before he collapsed, the children screaming again.  As he laid there on the warehouse floor, Zhan Junbai heard the crunch of footsteps getting closer and he closed his eyes, waiting for the final gunshot when another gunshot rang out, causing him to flinch.  However, he felt no pain, causing him to frown and crack open an eye, just in time to see Jiang Yuelou kneeling before him, reaching out to grasp him by the shoulders. “Zhan-xiong.  Zhan-xiong, just hang on, we’re going to get you help, you just gotta hang on.  Zhan-xiong.  Zhan-xiong!” he exclaimed but Zhan Junbai didn’t hear him as his eyes slipped shut and he fell into unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Zhan Junbai woke up later, he found himself in a hospital bed with Chen Yuzhi standing beside it, his arms crossed in front of him with a stern frown on his face.  The minute he saw the look on his face, he let out a heavy sigh. “Dr. Chen” he croaked.  Chen Yuzhi’s eyes widened when he realized that Zhan Junbai was awake and he quickly uncrossed his arms as he sat down in the chair next to his bed. “Executive Zhan” he breathed.  Zhan Junbai hummed before he hissed. “What happened?” he asked.  Chen Yuzhi huffed. “You got shot” he deadpanned.  Zhan Junbai gave him a look. “I know that” he replied.  Chen Yuzhi then raised an eyebrow. “Then why’d you ask?” he inquired.  Zhan Junbai huffed and gave him a look as he smiled slightly before his smile fell. “Junbai…” he started, making Zhan Junbai raise an eyebrow and frown slightly; he didn’t like Chen Yuzhi’s tone.  It sounded like he was about to get scolded. “Your back…what happened?” Chen Yuzhi asked, looking at Zhan Junbai with worried doe eyes.  Zhan Junbai frowned before his eyes widened in realization as to what Chen Yuzhi was referring to.  He then took a deep breath before he looked over at Chen Yuzhi. “It’s—” he started when Chen Yuzhi held up a hand. “You can lie to everyone else, but you can’t lie to me.  I’m the one who did your surgery.  I saw.  So just tell me, what happened?” he asked.  Zhan Junbai looked at him before he sighed. “My uncle” he answered.  Chen Yuzhi’s eyes widened. “Your uncle did that to you?” he whispered.  Zhan Junbai nodded. “He was a war general you know…a very powerful one at that.  And he liked things done a certain way.  And if things weren’t done a certain way well…I was punished.  Sometimes it wouldn’t even be my fault, he just needed someone to take his anger out on and I was the closest target” he murmured.  Chen Yuzhi clenched his jaw and shook his head; he never understood how people could be so cruel, especially to their own family. “They were also from when I was in the military.  Drill sergeants are quite cruel, you know?” he continued.  Chen Yuzhi looked at him and Zhan Junbai sighed softly. “It’s all in the past, Yuzhi.  They don’t even hurt anymore” he murmured.  Chen Yuzhi made a face before he sighed. “Who knows about them?” he asked.  Zhan Junbai shook his head. “No one.  Not even Qiu Ming knows.  You’re the first” he stated.  Chen Yuzhi hummed before he sighed. “And Boss Yu will be the second” he murmured.  Zhan Junbai frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked.  Chen Yuzhi gave him a look. “Who’s going to help you change your bandages?  And help you shower?  And change?” he asked.  Zhan Junbai continued to frown before his eyes widened and he reached out, grasping Chen Yuzhi’s hand. “Boss Yu can’t know.  Yuzhi, he can’t” he pleaded.  Chen Yuzhi gave him another look. “He’s going to find out one way or the other, Junbai.  You can’t hide them forever” he stated.  Zhan Junbai shook his head. “He can’t know” he declared.  Chen Yuzhi frowned. “You know that’s not really an option, Junbai” he argued.  Zhan Junbai sighed. “Can’t you…I don’t know…come to the mansion and change the bandages so that Tangchun will never have to see the wound?” he asked.  Chen Yuzhi huffed. “If I came to the mansion every time your bandages needed change, Boss Yu and your servants would think something is up” he argued.  Zhan Junbai groaned. “What if you teach me how to change my own bandage?” he suggested.  Chen Yuzhi frowned. “Junbai, do you know how difficult it will be to change your bandages without assistance?” he exclaimed.  Zhan Junbai shook his head. “I don’t care; I’m not letting Boss Yu see my scars” he declared before he pointed at Chen Yuzhi. “Jiang-xiong can never know” he ordered.  Chen Yuzhi sighed. “I won’t tell him” he assured before he let out a groan and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve never had a patient so stubborn before” he grumbled.  Zhan Junbai chuckled. “Not even Jiang-xiong?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  Chen Yuzhi huffed. “He listens to me, if he knows what’s good for him” he replied.  Zhan Junbai chuckled again as Chen Yuzhi stood to his feet. “Fine.  I’ll teach you before I discharge you later tonight and I’ll have Jiang Yuelou drop you off so that no one will be suspicious” he stated as he headed towards the door of Zhan Junbai’s hospital room before pausing and looking back at Zhan Junbai. “Get some rest” he instructed before he stepped out, quietly shutting the door behind him.  Zhan Junbai stared at the closed door for a moment before he sighed heavily and shut his eyes.  He couldn’t let Yu Tangchun know about his scars…he couldn’t.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After Chen Yuzhi declared that Zhan Junbai was clear to go home, he made sure to teach him how to change his bandages by himself without any help, a deep frown on his face the entire time.  Once he had taught Zhan Junbai, he looked at him with a frown. “Are you sure Tangchun can’t see your scars?” he asked softly.  Zhan Junbai shook his head. “I don’t want anyone to know about that part of me…” he replied.  Chen Yuzhi raised an eyebrow. “What, are you afraid of being vulnerable?” he sneered.  Zhan Junbai’s eyes widened in shock and Chen Yuzhi huffed. “There’s nothing wrong with showing vulnerability, Junbai.  You know that right?” he asked.  Zhan Junbai tsked. “Being vulnerable is what got me these scars in the first place” he replied as he finished buttoning up his suit vest.  Chen Yuzhi sighed. “But—” he started when Zhan Junbai turned to look at him. “Thank you, Dr. Chen.  I’ll be heading home now” he declared as he turned and headed out of the hospital, walking over to Jiang Yuelou, who was leaning up against his car, a small smile on his face. “Got lectured?” he asked.  Zhan Junbai chuffed. “Yes” he grumbled.  Jiang Yuelou chuckled. “You can’t avoid it, unfortunately” he replied.  Zhan Junbai sighed as he got into the car, Jiang Yuelou walking around to the driver’s side before getting in as well.  He then turned on the engine and drove towards Zhan Junbai’s mansion.  As they drove towards the mansion, Jiang Yuelou looked over at Zhan Junbai. “You okay?  Your shoulder, I mean” he asked.  Zhan Junbai nodded. “Your husband did a damn fine job…of course I’m okay” he replied.  Jiang Yuelou smiled and nodded. “I’m not surprised; Yuzhi is the best damn in Jing City” he agreed.  Zhan Junbai smiled slightly as they continued towards the mansion and once they arrived, Jiang Yuelou put the car into park as Zhan Junbai got out, dipping his head to Jiang Yuelou before he walked over to the front door and pushed it open, stepping inside.  Jiang Yuelou waited for the doors to close before he drove out of the courtyard and headed back to the hospital to pick Chen Yuzhi up.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As soon Zhan Junbai stepped into the mansion, he was immediately greeted by Yu Tangchun, worry in his big brown eyes. “Executive Zhan!” he exclaimed.  Zhan Junbai looked at him in surprise. “Boss Yu” he murmured as Yu Tangchun looked him over. “Are you alright?  Are you hurt?” he asked.  Zhan Junbai blinked and thought about his shoulder injury before he smiled and shook his head. “I’m alright.  Why do you ask?” he inquired.  Yu Tangchun huffed. “Well, you didn’t come home last night and I was…I was worried that something bad happened” he explained.  Zhan Junbai chuckled softly and reached out, giving Yu Tangchun’s a gentle squeeze. “I’m alright, Boss Yu.  But thank you for your concern” he murmured.  Yu Tangchun nodded before he tilted his head to the side. “Were you able to find the children?” he asked, as that was the whole reason why Jiang Yuelou had come to ask for Zhan Junbai’s help.  Zhan Junbai smiled and nodded. “We found them.  They’re all safe” he assured.  Yu Tangchun smiled slightly. “Good, good” he breathed before he looked at Zhan Junbai. “Would you care to join me in the garden?  I haven’t…really been able to relax since you weren’t home” he explained, a slight blush on his cheeks.  Zhan Junbai’s eyes widened before he smiled and nodded. “That would be nice” he agreed.  Yu Tangchun smiled as they headed out to the garden, both men walking over to one of the benches and sitting down.  As they sat on the bench, Yu Tangchun leaned over and rested his head on Zhan Junbai’s shoulder causing Zhan Junbai to look over at him in surprise before he smiled and let out a soft hum as the sunlight shone down on him and Yu Tangchun.  After a while, Zhan Junbai heard soft snoring coming from his left, so he looked over to see Yu Tangchun, his face soft and relaxed as his chest rose and fell slowly.  Zhan Junbai smiled fondly and shook his head. ‘He must have been really worried about me’ he mused as he scooted over slightly to make things a little bit more comfortable for Yu Tangchun.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that evening, after dinner, Zhan Junbai decided to take a bath and rid himself of the hospital smell, so he removed his clothes in front of the mirror before carefully undoing the bandages around his torso, not even realizing that he left his bedroom door open.  He then twisted his body so that he could look at the healing wound and let out a soft hum when he saw that the wound was red but not angry or infected, which was good. “E-Executive?” a soft voice called out, causing Zhan Junbai’s eyes to widen. ‘Shit’ he hissed before he spun around to see Yu Tangchun standing in the doorway of his room, his eyes wide with horror. “Boss Yu” he breathed, just as Yu Tangchun quickly walked into the room and over to him, looking at him with big eyes. “You told me you weren’t hurt!” he exclaimed.  Zhan Junbai made a face before he sighed. “Boss Yu—” he started when Yu Tangchun grabbed him by the arm and spun him around so that he could look at Zhan Junbai’s back. “Boss Yu, don’t—” Zhan Junbai started again when Yu Tangchun reached out and gently touched his back, his slender fingers lightly touching the numerous scars that littered Zhan Junbai’s back.  Zhan Junbai sucked in a breath; no one had ever been this gentle with him or his scars, save for Chen Yuzhi, but he was a doctor.  His touch was always gentle. “Who did this to you?” Yu Tangchun whispered.  Zhan Junbai frowned before he slowly turned around to face Yu Tangchun, the young opera singer’s eyes full of tears.  Both men stared at each other before Zhan Junbai sighed. “It’s nothing” he replied when Yu Tangchun shook his head. “It’s not NOTHING!” he exclaimed causing Zhan Junbai to look at him in shock as tears began to stream down his face. “It’s not…nothing” he whispered.  Zhan Junbai stared at the young man for a moment before he reached out and gently wiped the tears away with his thumbs. “Let me take a shower first and then I’ll explain it to you” he murmured.  At this point, he might as well just tell the truth…he was certain Yu Tangchun wouldn’t leave him alone until he did. “Let me help” Yu Tangchun offered.  Zhan Junbai shook his head. “That’s not—” he started when Yu Tangchun grasped his hand. “Junbai” he interrupted, causing Zhan Junbai’s eyes widen as Yu Tangchun looked at him. “Let me.  Please” he whispered.  Zhan Junbai stared at him before he sighed. “Alright” he agreed.  Yu Tangchun nodded and quickly let go of Zhan Junbai’s hand before turning and heading out of the room, heading towards the bathroom.  Zhan Junbai watched him walk away before he let out a heavy sigh and ran his hand through his hair; he could have avoided all of this if he had just closed his bedroom door. ‘Could you have avoided this though?  Sooner or later he would have found out’ a voice sounding very much like Chen Yuzhi stated.  Zhan Junbai scowled. ‘I would have preferred later’ he grumbled, just as Yu Tangchun poked his head into the bedroom. “I drew a bath for you…go ahead and get in, I’ll get you some clothes” he instructed.  Zhan Junbai sighed before he nodded obediently and headed out of his bedroom, heading to the bathroom while Yu Tangchun slipped inside Zhan Junbai’s bedroom, heading for his dresser.  

~*~*~*~*~*~

Once Zhan Junbai entered the bathroom, he quickly stripped off his clothes before he walked over to the tub, carefully sinking into the warm soapy bath.  Thankfully, Yu Tangchun had filled the tub up just enough that it didn’t touch his wound, and as he sat in the warm water, he let out a soft sigh, feeling his muscles relax.  Once he was in the water, Yu Tangchun walked back in, carrying a change of underwear and pajamas, placing those on the sink counter before he walked over to the tub, rolling up his sleeves.  He then stood behind Zhan Junbai before he reached out and took a towel, dipping it into the water before he began to gently clean Zhan Junbai’s back.  Zhan Junbai froze and sucked in a breath again, causing Yu Tangchun to look at him with wide eyes. “Are you okay?  Did I hurt you?” he asked, concern in his voice.  Zhan Junbai shook his head, reminding himself to breathe, before he cleared his throat. “I’m fine” he assured.  Yu Tangchun made a face, not exactly believing him, but said nothing as he continued to clean Zhan Junbai of the smell of the hospital, careful to avoid his private parts as he cleaned his chest, abdomen, back, and legs, making sure to be extra careful around the bullet wound.  After washing Zhan Junbai down, Yu Tangchun carefully rinsed him off before he scooped some water from the tub and poured it onto Zhan Junbai’s hair, wetting it.  After his hair was properly wetted, Yu Tangchun squirted some shampoo into his palm before rubbing them together and placing his hands in Zhan Junbai’s hair, beginning to scrub gently, making sure that his hair was clean while also giving him a massage in the process.  As he scrubbed and massaged, Zhan Junbai let out a soft sigh and shut his eyes, feeling his entire body relax.  Yu Tangchun looked at him and smiled softly as he continued to scrub his scalp and once he was done, he rinsed it out and cleared his throat. “I’ll wait for you in the bedroom, Executive” he murmured before he turned and walked out of the bathroom.  Zhan Junbai turned his head and watched him leave before he stood up and stepped out of the bath, toweling down, careful to not aggravate his stitches before he slipped on his pajamas and headed out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When he entered the bedroom, he found Yu Tangchun sitting down on the edge of the bed, his bandages sitting on the bedside table.  The minute he saw them, he sighed heavily before he walked over to Yu Tangchun and sat down, facing the opera singer.  Both men stared at each other before Yu Tangchun reached out and unbuttoned Zhan Junbai’s sleep shirt, carefully removing it and placing it to the side before he looked at Zhan Junbai. “Turn around, please” he murmured.  Zhan Junbai nodded obediently and spun around so that he was barring his back to Yu Tangchun.  Yu Tangchun stared at his scarred back for a moment and took a shuddering breath before he reached out and placed a non-adhesive wound dressing over the wound and wrapped gauze over the dressing and around his chest so it wouldn’t fall off before securing it.  Once he had dressed the wound, he gently reached out and touched the scars, his touch as light as a butterfly’s kiss. “How did this happen?” he asked softly.  Zhan Junbai was quiet, tears coming to his eyes as the stinging, searing phantom pains of the lashes came back to him. “My uncle” he whispered after a while.  Yu Tangchun’s eyes widened and he pulled his hand away in shock. “What?” he whispered.  Zhan Junbai nodded. “My uncle, as you know, is a very decorated war general who…likes things done a certain way and has a certain way of thinking.  If things are done his way or you don’t share his beliefs, you’re punished” he murmured.  Yu Tangchun looked at Zhan Junbai’s back in horror. “Your own uncle did this to you?” he whispered.  Zhan Junbai nodded again. “Or if he was having a bad day and needed someone to take it out on…well, I was always just within reach or within his general vicinity” he answered.  Yu Tangchun shook his head. “Junbai, that’s awful” he whispered.  Zhan Junbai chuckled mirthlessly. “My life has never been easy, Tangchun” he admitted.  Yu Tangchun looked at him for a moment before he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to one of the scars on Zhan Junbai’s shoulder, causing Zhan Junbai’s eyes to widen in shock. “Boss Yu, what are you—” he started as Yu Tangchun kissed another scar gently, almost lovingly.  Zhan Junbai sucked in a breath and before Yu Tangchun could kiss another scar, he spun around and cupped Yu Tangchun’s face in his hands. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered.  Yu Tangchun looked at him before he smiled softly. “You may think your scars are ugly, but I think they’re beautiful he replied.  Zhan Junbai’s eyes widened. “Beautiful?” he repeated.  Yu Tangchun nodded. “Your scars make you who you are.  They make you Zhan Junbai” he declared.  Zhan Junbai looked at him in awe before he surged forward and kissed Yu Tangchun soundly.  Yu Tangchun’s eyes widened in surprise but Zhan Junbai pulled away before he could say anything and instead rested their foreheads together. “No one’s ever called my scars beautiful” he murmured.  Yu Tangchun smiled softly. “But they are.  They are as beautiful as their owner” he replied.  Zhan Junbai chuckled softly. “You flatter me, Tangchun.  But I am not beautiful” he declared.  Yu Tangchun smiled fondly as he reached up and gently touched Zhan Junbai’s face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “You’re beautiful to me” he whispered.  Zhan Junbai pulled away and looked at him with wide eyes as Yu Tangchun just smiled at him fondly, his hand still on his cheek. “Your scars are beautiful and so are you, Zhan Junbai” he declared.  Zhan Junbai felt tears come to his eyes and this time Yu Tangchun was the one to reach out and wipe away his tears before they threatened to fall.  Zhan Junbai then removed his hands from Yu Tangchun’s face and took Yu Tangchun’s hand instead, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you” he whispered.  Yu Tangchun smiled softly. “You’re welcome” he replied before he grabbed Zhan Junbai’s sleep shirt and held it up. “Let me help you put this on” he stated.  Zhan Junbai nodded and turned around, allowing Yu Tangchun to help him into his sleep shirt before he buttoned it up.  Once he had buttoned up, he stood to his feet,  Yu Tangchun standing as well.  Zhan Junbai then took a step forward, reaching out and grabbing Yu Tangchun by the waist, pulling him close.  Yu Tangchun’s eyes widened and Zhan Junbai smiled before he leaned in and kissed Yu Tangchun on the lips softly. “Goodnight, Tangchun” he bid.  Yu Tangchun blinked before he laughed. “Goodnight, Junbai” he replied.  Zhan Junbai then released Yu Tangchun and watched as the young opera singer walked away from him and towards the door, pausing to look back at him. “Goodnight” he bid.  Zhan Junbai smiled and dipped his head. “Goodnight” he replied.  Yu Tangchun then stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him as Zhan Junbai smiled softly at the door.  He then turned and slipped into bed, turning off the bedside lamp before he shut his eyes, a small smile on his face.  He had never been called beautiful before nor had his scars been called beautiful before but if Yu Tangchun thought that he and his scars were beautiful, then he would believe him.

#sass writes #Killer and Healer #zhan junbai #yu tangchun #jiang yuelou #chen yuzhi #yuezhi #junchun #scars

[tact-and-impulse]

Blended a couple prompts this time and uh, went for a slightly different perspective of the 20s, @shepherds-of-haven. On AO3 already.

smoke

Two men in front, two working the floor, and three concealed in the back. She sips her lukewarm tea, the jasmine flavor too weak for her liking. To be fair, it’s not why the clientele visits. This establishment is surprisingly ritzy, with a tidy carpeted interior and strings of electrical lights. Even the heavy curtain leading to the real business is a tapestry of embroidered silk. She has to focus hard to detect the hint of smoldering opium in the air.

The Magpie has a soft spot for opium dens. The infamous thief started here in Chinatown, working for the tongs, the prominent wealthy families, before betraying all of them in a grand heist. Then, they reappeared in San Francisco, about the same time she was hired and directed to the newspaper clippings in a Herculean task. Finally, she’s figured out this recent pattern in what was a string of sporadic hits. Once she cuffs the Magpie, she’ll have solved the case no one else could and prove the entire squad wrong.

With her hair dyed black, she blends in easily enough, and the customers glance at her exposed calves instead of her face. There are five minutes remaining until the shop officially closes its “dinner hour”, so she has to endure it. Her fingers rest on her valise, ready to open the clasp if things go sour. And they nearly do. One middle-aged man, his scalp more gray than blond, peruses the length of her qipao with a disturbingly intense look. She refills her teacup, running through a plan of attack as he heads in her direction. His left shoulder is lower than the other, and could dislocate if she applied enough pressure…

Then, the door opens, the attached chimes jingling. A stranger casually walks in, thumbs hooked in his suspenders. He looks mixed, which isn’t unusual in the vicinity of the brothels. Tall, but he moves with an effortless grace. His linen shirt is plain beige but the quality is good. The men from the front are in his wake, insisting they’re closing soon.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” He waves them off, and for some reason, his greenish gaze locks on her, steering the rest of him to her table. Effectively cutting off the other man, he slides into the opposite chair with a smile. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long for me, doll.”

...Who is this? She told the station she could handle this job alone, but of course, they wouldn’t listen because she’s a woman, Oriental, and the youngest by over a decade. Either he’s a very good actor or he really does recognize her. She has to be certain. “You’re late. I thought magpies had eaten you.”

His eyes brighten. “They prefer cinnabar, to be exact.”

Against her better judgment, she reaches up to ensure not a single strand has escaped the weight of her pinned hair. Frowning, she says. “So, you do remember me.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a long time. You’re very good at what you do.”

“Then, you should know I work alone.” The men are closing in on them, radiating impatience.

“Ah, but is that because you want to or you don’t have a choice?”

While she discreetly opens her valise, she wryly answers. “Both. Are we going to blow or what?”

“Ladies first.”

“Thanks.” She throws the teacup, and the four mooks are distracted by the shattering porcelain. Out comes the crossbow, and she deploys the first bolt into the ogler’s neck. As he falls, she aims for the one behind him, ducking as a bullet whizzes past her ear. A hit to the arm ensures he won’t try that again.

The others are brought down, each with a bleeding knee and shoulder. Her new partner’s not a bad shot at all, with his pistols. “Interesting piece you got there.”

“It’s a gift from someone I helped through customs on Angel Island. It’s a long story.”

“I’m familiar with the place. We ought to swap sometime, Cinnabar.”

“Cuff these last three, and we’ll talk.”

“Your wish is my command.” With a wink, he pulls aside the curtain and it’s easy work. As the mooks moan in pain, they quench the burning pipes, gathering the leftover opium. He handles it with obvious distaste. “Damn, this drug.”

“You said it.”

“And it’s such a money drain. Too many addicts are bad for my line of work.” That’s a strange thing to say. “So, what’s next?”

“Bring it back to the station, as evidence. Possibly, bait.”

“You got plans, huh?”

You? He’s not a detective. Magpie.

Her blood surges and she’s reaching for her crossbow again, but he moves fast and grips her wrist. The other hand aims a pistol at her heart, as he smirks. “You’re a real bearcat, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. It comes with the hair.” Cinnabar red, a sign of fortune, yet some luck it’s bought her. Parents who abandoned her, adopted parents who died in the Great Earthquake, prostitution attempts, workplace prejudice, and now this. How stupid of her to assume that she wasn’t being studied in turn.

“I know. Like I said, I’ve been keeping an eye on you.” He leans in, as if he’s going to kiss her, and stops shy.

If she moves her head forward in the slightest, their lips would touch. She keeps her eyes open, challenging. “Then, let me arrest you.”

The tension hangs for a second. It dissolves when he rocks onto his back foot, with an expression of keen interest. “Sorry, doll. Can’t have you catch me yet.” He pushes the pistol, in a light shove, and in the time it takes for her to regain her bearings, that he didn’t fire, he’s disappeared out the door.

She peers into the dingy street, and expects the emptiness that greets her. “A draw, it is.” When he leaned in, she reached into his pocket and eased out the first thing she touched. She opens her hand. A lockpick, fairly standard with etching on the handle. Not as personal as she hoped, but she can work with this. Although...why didn’t he notice she took it? And he actually hates opium, enough to leave the stash with her. “I’ll ask next time, Magpie.”

#shepherds of haven #shepherds of summer 2021 #i remember seeing chase was imagined to be eurasian and this mc is asian sooo 1920s chinatown #in california because westwood

[neokids]

Fortune's Fool: Act X

Masterlist (read previous and future ones here!)

Act X

Tw: Lots of blood, character death, violence, murder, guns, knives, weapons, foul language, self-inflicted wounds, suicide, overall graphic content

“Watch out,” Yeji warned Karina and Lia as they stood outside another opium den, it was 1929 and opium was the only substance capable of distracting people from what was truly happening. The three of them were at the entrance of Viper-owned territory so they shouldn’t have to worry about anything, but Karina couldn’t help the bubbling emotion of anxiety in her stomach.

“Stay close to me,” Yeji continued as she and her cousins stepped inside the establishment. The establishment looked very unkempt, you could hear the uneven floorboards creaking each step they took. Some of the lights were flickering, and they could see the discoloration of the walls. The walls were a shade of smokey gray, possibly from all the dust and smoke accumulated all these years. What once was a shade of pure and innocent white, had now turned into dark gray. Soon enough, it would be black. “Be careful, there may be hostile assassins working here.”

“What? Assassins?” Karina asked, placing her hands on her waist as she felt her weapons pressed underneath the rich fabric of her clothing. “I thought we were here to collect petty rent money?”

“We are,” Yeji parted the old beaded curtains, revealing the main entrance to the den. “Never hurts to be careful.”

The smell of the place can be compared to a burning rose, it was truly sad how a smell so nice can be linked to addiction and other vices. The more they went in, the more faint the smell of roses lingered in their noses. The previous scent of burning roses were now replaced by the smell of gasoline and fire. Just as they reached the last door in the hallway, a group of women came out from one of the doors. Judging by their lack of fabric used for their clothes and their skirt riding up their thighs, they were courtesans.

“How may I help you?”

Yeji turned around to look for the source of the cheery voice, a woman in her thirties stood before them. Yeji eyed her clothes as she saw stains of black and loose threads hanging, causing her to unconsciously scrunch her nose. The lady took notice and stepped forward towards the younger, this time examining her closely.

“Oh my,” the woman said as she brought a hand to her chest, “Yeji Hwang, the last time I saw you, you couldn’t even pick up a gun.”

Yeji raised her brow, “Forgive me, but have we met before?”

The woman let out a warm chuckle as she placed her hands on her waist, “How dare you forget your favorite Aunt Sandara?”

“Who the hell is Aunt Sandara?” Lia asked in a whispered tone as she nudged her sister, Karina only shrugged flippantly. “I didn’t even know we had an ‘Aunt Sandara’”

“Uh-huh, sure.” This caused Sandara to purse her lips into a thin line. “I assume you aren’t here for chitchat then,” Sandara paused as she eyed the twins behind Yeji. “I take your silence as a no, follow me.”

Sandara led them deeper into the building, taking many turns and stairs to finally reach her office. She opened the door to reveal a room decorated with a Moroccan theme, there were no other chairs, just some soft cushions placed on the ground. Sandara beckoned the girls to sit, but they all just opted to stand.

“You look just like your mother,” Sandara blurted as she lit her pipe. “I was friends with your mother long ago actually.”

“You were?” Yeji asked, she couldn’t remember a single time her mother had mentioned an ‘Aunt Sandara’

“Yes…” She paused to inhale a long drag of whatever she was smoking, “Until someone had accused me of being too friendly with the Neos, it was all bullshit of course. I hate the Neos just as much as you do.”

“I don’t hate the Neos,” Yeji dejected quickly, way too quickly. “I hate the people who hurt the ones I love, most of the time those people are Neos. There’s a difference.”

“I see, don’t let them hear it though.” Sandara said as she looked at Yeji, Yeji noticed a different glimmer in her eyes.

“Or else they might think you’re getting friendly with them.” Yeji gulped, her throat suddenly feeling dry.

“You’re not though, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I should be asking you that question, Aunt Sandara.” Yeji said, her name rolling off her lips in a mocking manner. She shifted her attention to look at Lia, suddenly grabbing her wrist. “Oh I know you, you are Lia Yoo right? I knew your father as well, he has such precious children. I was so upset when you were sent to Canada, but thankfully they brought you back here.” Her eyes turned to Karina, a beat passed.

Yeji cleared her throat.

“My appa sent us here to collect–” She cut in to try and lead her attention away from Karina, but to her dismay the older was too focused on the latter.

“But who are you?” Sandara asked, interrupting Yeji to address Karina.

Karina narrowed her eyes at Sandara, through grit teeth she replied, “My name is Karina.”

Sandara had exaggerated her trying to remember Karina.

“Oh! I remember! Yes of course, forgive me. You were the one who– Never mind.”

Yeji thinned her lips as Lia crossed her arms. But Karina only looked at Sandara with the flattest look in her eyes. “I was the one who what?”

Sandara blinked, not sure to answer truthfully or not, she decided on the first. “You were the one who got sent to a different school when you arrived here, weren’t you?”

“I was,” Karina answered as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What about it, Sandara?”

Yeji and Lia exchanged glances, they could feel the tension rising in the room. “Nothing really, I understand how hard it is to adjust when you grew up in foreign lands. You were always so rude when you were young, always sticking your tongue out when you see me. I see nothing has changed.” Sandara replied as she leaned back.

Karina feigned a laugh, “Old habits die hard,”

“Don’t worry Karina, I too had several remedial classes to aid with my slow learning–”

“Enough,” There was no way they would listen to this stranger go on and on with what she had to say. This went on for far too long. “May we talk somewhere else? Privately?”

“Yeji,” Karina said as she tapped Yeji on the shoulder, “We’ll go ahead.”

It was only Yeji and Sandara now, “I have your rent money.” The older said as she pulled out a bag of coins from underneath her desk. She placed the coins on her palm, counting each coin with a sour expression on her face.

“Actually,” Sandara looked up at Yeji, confused as to why Yeji suddenly interrupted her counting. “Keep it. There is something I would gladly prefer.”

Sandara looked at her, and then at the door. She placed the coins back into the bag as she turned towards Yeji once again, “And that would be?”

“Information about the Rovers.”

The once calm expression of Sandara had disappeared entirely, “I beg your pardon?”

“I know you led them into this place as common meeting grounds, so tell me. What role do the Rovers play regarding the madness sweeping across Seoul this very moment?”

Sandara barked a laugh, she couldn’t believe what the girl in front of her was asking. “I’m sorry dear, but I have yet the slightest clue what you are talking about.” Sandara said as she wiped a nonexistent tear from her cheek, “I stay out of their business.”

There must be a reason why Sandara never appeared in one of the many Viper Gang meetings, she was Viper-associated, but has never really contributed to the name. Was it fear or was it loyalty? One of those two could be the reason why she’s not talking.

“Of course. How rude of me to assume.” Yeji fished a glittering diamond necklace from her pocket, Sandara eyeing the jewel like a vulture who hasn't eaten in days. “Allow me a gift to make up for my surmise.”

Yeji walked behind Sandara before she could even protest, who would refuse a diamond necklace?

If only it were a diamond necklace.

Sandara let out a choked yelp as Yeji tightened the wire around her throat. Sandara desperately tried to claw Yeji’s hands away from her neck but to her dismay, she would only tighten her grip.

“Stop! Stop!” Sandara pleaded, “I speak!”

“Then speak,”

“The Rovers take no responsibility in this madness, nor do they associate themselves with whatever is causing it. As a political party, they stay absolutely resolute that this is not their doing. However, they do speculate privately.”

“Who?”

When Sandara seemed to hesitate, Yeji tightened the wire again, causing the older to gag. There were already tiny droplets of blood seeping from her once smooth skin, the microblades in the wire doing its job. Yeji, voice remaining as calm as the morning tide, said “Give me a name.”

“Jinyoung Park, secretary-general of the Rovers.”

Upon hearing the name, Yeji immediately let go of the wire causing Sandara to let out a breath of relief. Yeji took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the wire until it was glittering again, no traces of blood and trauma whatsoever. When she was done wiping the weapon, she tucked it back into her pocket and approached the shaking Sandara. Sandara could not react when Yeji had loosely tied the handkerchief across her neck to seep the line of blood.

“I apologize for your troubles,” Yeji said, giving Sandara, who was now as pale as her dress, a tap on the shoulder. “You’ll keep this between us won’t you, Aunt Sandara?”

Sandara nodded blankly, still unable to move and recover from what had happened. Yeji tossed a bundle of cash on her desk and made her way out of the door. Her heels clicked and echoed all throughout the hallway, she remained as calm and confident like nothing had happened. Once she was outside, she only saw Lia enjoying a cone of ice cream.

“Where’s Karina?” Yeji asked, Lia turned to her and nodded towards Karina’s familiar figure approaching them. “Where were you?”

“Went to get you one,” Karina said as she handed Yeji a serving of ice cream. “Here.”

Yeji looked at Karina and back at the ice cream, “Thanks.”

“So can we go? I have a shift at the Poculum exactly 30 minutes from now.” Lia said as she tossed her unfinished ice cream in a bin. “We’re going.”

...

As soon as they had dropped off Lia at the club, Yeji immediately snapped at Karina. “What?”

Karina blinked. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Oh, I didn’t know you noticed.” She replied as she slouched on the back seat. “Do you doubt my eyes, Kar?” Yeji then motioned to her face. “Anywhere, do I have ice cream stains anywhere?”

“No, you don’t.” Karina said as she crossed her legs, engines of the car revving once again. “Then what is it?” Yeji asked as she saw Karina hesitate, deciding carefully on the words she chooses to say.

“Nothing, just wondering when we can go shopping again.” Karina said nonchalantly.

“You suck at lying, do you know that?” Yeji asked, not content with the obvious lie for an answer her cousin gave her.

“Okay, okay, fine. The den earlier, that was in Viper grounds right?” Yeji looked at her as she raised her brow. “Viper-associated, but yes. Why did you ask?”

Karina turned her attention back to the window as gazed at the scenery. “Nothing, just thought I saw someone who should not be seen here.”

“Foreigners leave and enter Seoul all the time,” Yeji said, unsure of who Karina saw. “I know, must be another foreigner I hope I could marry someday.”

As soon as they arrived back in their Mansion, a sudden shriek had made its way to their ears. Yeji and Karina immediately sprinted towards the living room to find the maid currently clawing her throat.

“What is wrong with you?!” Yeji shrieked as she tried to get a hold of the maid’s hands. “Karina get help!”

Yeji and the gardener who thankfully came into the scene tried to bound the maid to stop her actions, the maid violently twisting and shaking as she tried to fight for her life.

Just as Yeji was about to shout for Karina’s name, Karina had beat her to it.

“Yeji!” A terrified Karina screamed, “Come here! Now!”

Yeji quickly went to the kitchen to find Karina trying her hardest to muffle her terrified screams. They saw their cook writhing in pain on the floor as he continued to tear at his own throat.

Death had knocked on their doorstep

Just as they were about to act, Yeji and Karina heard another scream from a maid entering the kitchen, she was already collapsing and tearing her own throat.

The maids and the cook stilled, they were gone. Yeji and Karina stayed frozen, shock overcoming their bodies. Karina then immediately bolted as she approached the dead maid.

The madness could be contagious

“Stop!” Yeji shouted towards her cousin causing Karina to back away from the scene.

“Send men to clean this mess,” Yeji said as she turned around to see her horrified family members, “And tell them to wear gloves.”

A/N: Sorry for not updating in a while, please do let me know your thoughts and theories!

#nct mafia au #nct mafia #nct dream mafia au #jeno mafia au #jeno mafia #itzy mafia au #itzy mafia #yeji mafia #yeji mafia au #aespa mafia au #aespa mafia #karina mafia #yeji au #jeno imagines #jeno smut #jeno angst

[coralstories]

You Have a Girlfriend?!

Spencer Reid x ocBianca Bennett

A/N: My last Spencer Reid fic was a little after he first met Bianca. This is set after they’ve been together for a while. 

A/N 2: I meant to post the Dia de los Muertos Hobbit fic, but my Halloween weekend was surprisingly busy, so that didn’t happen. Take this one as consolation!

Word count: 2725 (wow, that’s a lot)

“What do we got?”

“The sheriff in San Francisco contacted me about a possible serial killer. Here are the files.”

“Thanks, JJ.”

Agent Aaron Hotchner’s team were gathered in the conference room. JJ, Agent Jareau, had called them in early to brief them on a possible case. They all agreed that it was something they should look into. Then Agent Jareau noticed something.

“Guys, do any of you know where Reid is?” she asked, not having heard his input in the past five minutes.

They all shook their heads.

“Maybe he didn’t get your text,” Morgan offered. 

“Call him, but tell him we’re leaving in 30,” Hotch said.  

With that, the rest of them dispersed. Morgan held back JJ and Agent Prentiss.  

“Listen, why don’t we just go and pick up Reid? JJ, you said he gave you keys, right?”

“Oh, he did?” Agent Prentiss asked.

“Yeah, after we named him godfather,” JJ responded with a smile.

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah.” JJ considered Morgan’s proposal. “Alright, let’s go.”

They beat traffic and got to Agent Reid’s apartment fairly quickly. He wasn’t answering calls. JJ knocked, but when there was no answer, they all silently agreed to go in. JJ unlocked the door while the others kept a hand on their weapons out of habit. They entered cautiously.

“Reid?” JJ called out.

“He must have left by now,” Prentiss said in a reasonable tone.

“The shower’s on,” Morgan pointed out.

“And is that… a woman singing?” JJ said.

They all moved slowly toward the back of the apartment. They heard the water shutoff, and then a woman walked out, still humming. She had a towel wrapped around herself, tucked under her arms, and her hair was wet. She made her way to the fridge and dug around for a moment. She turned, leaned on the island, and started peeling an orange.

“Did you forget something?” she asked.

All three agents froze in surprise. She wasn’t looking at them, her gaze was on her hands, but there was no one else in the room.

“Um, who are you?” Morgan asked.

“And what are you doing in Reid’s apartment?” Prentiss added.

The woman stopped her movements and lifted her head. 

“Well, shit. None of you are Spencer,” she said.

This confused the agents even more. 

“Do I look like Dr. Spencer Reid?” Morgan asked sarcastically. 

“Well I wouldn’t know, but none of you sound like him.”

There was a pause as they all realized something; she was blind. 

“That was a joke, guys,” the woman said. She put a piece of orange in her mouth. “Lighten up.”

“You still haven’t told us who you are,” Prentiss said.

“Spencer hasn’t told you about me?”

“No,” all the agents said at once. 

“Of course he hasn’t,” she sighed. “I’m Bianca Bennett.” 

She extended her hand, which all of them automatically stepped forward to shake.  

“Spencer calling,” an automated voice said.

The woman, Bianca, reached across the counter to grab the phone and accepted the call on speaker.

“Hey, Spencer,” Bianca answered. “What did you forget?”

“Hey, Bee,” Spencer said.

His coworkers lifted their eyebrows.

“I forgot my jacket, do you think you’ll have time to drop it off?” Spencer continued.

“You’re lucky I have the morning off,” Bianca said with a smile.

“I don’t know about lucky, but it was definitely—“

“And—,” Bianca interrupted loudly— “you’re lucky some of your coworkers are here. I’ll give it to them and they’ll meet you, yeah?”

“What? Who’s there? It’s JJ, isn’t it?”

“Her and Prentiss and Morgan. I think. And I think they were about ready to shoot me.”

Spencer sighed. “I’m really sorry about that, all of you. I’m guessing I’m on speaker, right?”

“You have inferred correctly, sir,” Bianca said.

“Okay, I promise I’ll explain later, guys. For now, can you just grab my jacket and I’ll meet you at the office, please?”

“Actually, we were just swinging by to pick you up. We got called in early on a case,” Prentiss explained.

“Alright, then I’ll meet you on the plane and get briefed there. I’ve got to go, guys, I’m on the subway, I’m—“

The connection was lost. Bianca turned off the phone and turned back to the agents.

“Reception is spotty on the subway. Let me get his jacket,” Bianca said.

She walked out of the room, and the agents immediately started murmuring to each other.

“Since when does Reid have a girlfriend?”

“And she is blind, right?”

“She’s pretty.”

“I wonder if she’s a genius like him.”

Bianca walked into the living room and held out Reid’s jacket.

“We’ve been dating for about a year now,” she said, answering the questions they asked each other. “Yes, I really am blind. Thank you, and no, I am definitely not a genius.”

All the agents averted their eyes and flushed in embarrassment. Prentiss took the jacket with an apologetic smile.

“Thin walls,” Bianca said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Anyways, you should go. Don’t want to miss your plane. You’ve got to catch some killers, right?”

“Right,” Prentiss said. “Well, um…“

“It was nice meeting you,” JJ said.

“Yeah, you too.” Bianca shook their hands again.

They left and attacked Reid with incessant questions once they were all on the plane. Reid glanced at Hotch and Rossi fearfully. He shushed them and mouthed, ‘Later'. Hotch and Rossi noticed. They only exchanged exasperated glances and ignored the other agents.

The case went by fairly quickly and easily; the team considered themselves lucky. The night before they returned to Quantico, they cornered Reid in his hotel room.

“Okay, spill,” JJ demanded. “How did you even meet her? She doesn’t work with us.”

“That’s because she’s not an FBI agent at all,” Reid said. “She’s a high school teacher.”

“You’re dating a schoolteacher?” Morgan said incredulously.

“Yes. I have enjoyed our privacy so far, so if you guys could—“

“It’s okay, Reid, it’s not like I can judge,” JJ said. “I kept my relationship with Will a secret for about a year, right?”

The other three exchanged telling looks.

“JJ, we all knew,” Reid said.

“What?”

“No, hold on, I’m not gonna let him turn this around,” Morgan said, cutting JJ off from saying anything further.

“And I’m not going to let you all interrogate me or her about our private, personal life,” Reid countered.

“We just want to know who she is,” Prentiss said.

“And why you’ve been hiding her from us,” Morgan said.

“Well, I told you. Her name is Bianca Bennett and she’s a school teacher. And I haven’t been hiding her from you, you all just assumed I wasn't dating anyone.”

No one said anything for a moment after that. They couldn’t deny it. The possibility never entered their minds that Spencer Reid may be seeing someone.

“Where did you guys meet?” JJ asked, breaking the silence.

Reid gave her a warning look, perhaps trying to determine her intentions.

“She came up to me in the park to ask for advice about one of her students. She had heard me give a lecture before and knew my background,” Reid explained.

“What do you mean, she wanted help with one of her students? Isn’t it her job to teach kids?”

“Yeah, but this student was different.”

“Was that the day you left early?” Prentiss asked.

Reid nodded. “Yup. It still took about seven meetings before she asked me out, though.”

“She asked you out? Oh come on, Reid,” Morgan said.

“It took you guys that long?”

“Well, she was waiting for me to ask her out, but I was completely oblivious. Even her student, the one I was mentoring, and his aunt picked up on it. I liked her, obviously, but I guess I just never thought she would agree to a date. She’s just amazing.”

“Aw. I’m happy for you, Spence,” JJ said, patting the younger man on the back.  

“Yeah, it’s about time, man.”

“She’s okay with you being gone for long periods of time like this?” Prentiss asked.

Reid glanced at each of them before answering.

“She would prefer I wasn’t, obviously, but she knows this job is important to me. Besides, it’s not like we have a kid or anything.”

They were all quiet as they thought about their coworker, Hotch. Finally, Prentiss, Morgan, and JJ stood.

“We should get going. We have to be up early for our flight tomorrow,” Prentiss said.

“Yeah, we’ll let you get some sleep,” Morgan said.

“Ask Bianca if it would be okay to ask her to lunch,” JJ said. “I want to get to know her since she’s your girlfriend and all.”

“Okay, I’ll text her in a bit. Goodnight, guys.”

The next morning, they left early for their six-hour flight and got back to Quantico around noon. They went straight to the office to start on reports. Reid was telling his team members about the history of San Francisco as they rode the elevator.

“You know, what’s interesting is that San Francisco was called the “city of sin” long before Las Vegas. The city was rife with prostitution and opium dens as an outlet for the gold rushers who flocked to the city at the time. At first, there wasn’t much law and order to the city and it was run by vigilante groups who would hang anyone who committed a crime.”

Prentiss and Morgan exchanged a glance, but they didn’t try to cut him off yet.

“Then, when they started an actual police force, even those policemen were corrupt and accepted bribes from the madams and drug dealers to turn the other cheek. That all changed after the 1906 earthquake and fire, though. After that, the city’s inhabitants become of a reform-minded mood and when they were rebuilding, they--”

The elevator arrived at their floor, and they stepped out quickly.

“--decided that they would build more respectable businesses, especially on Morton Street, where most of the--”

“Reid, so, how long have you and Bianca been living together?” Prentiss asked.  

“Not long. We actually go between her place and mine. We’re usually at her apartment on the weekends.”

Reid’s phone rang.

“Hello?” Reid answered. “What? Are you okay?”

The note of fear in his voice caught the others’ attention.

“Okay. I’m on my way, and I’m going to send some police officers as well, okay? I’ll see you soon.” He hung up and started gathering his things while he dialed another number.

“What’s going on?” Prentiss asked.

“Someone broke into Bianca’s apartment and attacked her,” Reid explained.

“Oh my god,” Prentiss said. “I’ll tell Hotch what’s going on.”

“I’ll drive you,” Morgan said.

“Hey Garcia,” Reid said into the phone. “I need you to dispatch the closest patrol car to Bianca’s apartment. … Everything’s fine for now, but I need you to hurry, okay?… There was a break-in, I’ve got to go.”

He hung up. Morgan followed him with the keys to one of the SUVs. They ran the siren. Morgan followed Reid’s directions and got to Bianca’s apartment in record time. When they got out they saw that there was a police car on the sidewalk. Reid took the stairs two at a time, and Morgan followed close behind. As they neared Reid’s door, they heard Bianca’s voice.

“I’m okay, please stop touching me,” she said.

Reid and Morgan burst into the room to find it a mess. Items were strewn along the floor, the refrigerator was open, a dish was shattered, the coffee table was on its side, and the TV was on the floor near the door. There was one police officer kneeling on a man and putting handcuffs on him. The officer’s partner was attempting to comfort Bianca. He had his hands on her shoulders, ignoring her attempts to shake him off and her stiff posture. Reid barreled through the room toward them, while Morgan kept close to the arresting officer in case he needed help.

“Bianca, are you alright?” Reid asked. “Hands off my girlfriend, she doesn’t like strangers touching her,” he snapped at the police officer.

The man put his hands up in surrender, eyes wide. Reid took Bianca’s hand and led her to the couch, making her sit.

“I’m fine, Spencer. He just surprised me is all,” Bianca said.

The officers stood up with the offender.

“Did she tell you what happened?” Morgan asked them.

“Just that he was here when she came in, and almost knocked her out,” one of them said. “Your boy’s got a good girl there. When we came in she was standing over this loser with her stick pointed at his throat.”

“It’s a cane,” Reid corrected at the same time the would-be thief started shouting.

“She threatened me!” the offender whined. “She said if I moved—“

“Shut the hell up, man,” Morgan said. “It was self-defense. I’d have kicked your ass.”

The officers took him away. Morgan went over to where Reid and Bianca were sitting on the couch. He noticed how Bianca seemed to be melting into Reid.  

“Bianca, I think you should go to the hospital,” Morgan said gently.

“What? Why?” Reid asked.

He took Bianca’s face in his hands and examined her. She winced. Her bottom lip trembled and she kept looking up; it looked like she was trying not to cry.

“You said he tried to knock you out?” Morgan prompted.

“Yeah, he tried to hit me with the vase.”

Reid pushed her hair back to reveal a cut on her ear and neck.

“Bianca!” Reid exclaimed.

Bianca touched one hand to her ear. When she pulled it away, her fingertips were sticky with blood.

“I thought it was the water,” Bianca murmured. "From the vase."

Morgan leaned down to examine her. “It doesn’t look that deep,” he said. “But we should still get you checked out. Want me to drive?”

“O-okay,” Bianca said.

“Thank you,” Reid said.

Reid helped Bianca up and to the door, where Morgan offered to carry her down the stairs.

“Thanks, but I can walk,” Bianca replied stubbornly.

She managed it by leaning heavily on the railing and keeping one hand intertwined with Spencer’s. The ride to the hospital was silent, broken only by Morgan and Reid’s cell phones vibrating. Morgan glanced down and saw that it was a group text from Penelope, telling them all that Hotch wants them to meet in the BAU conference room. Morgan looked in the rearview mirror and saw Reid frowning down at his phone, presumably at the same text.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” Bianca asked.

“What? Nothing,” Reid said.

Bianca’s lips curved up into a smirk. “Now I really know there’s something up.”

Morgan’s eyebrows rose at her keen perception. Bianca, who had been leaning on Reid’s shoulder, suddenly sat up straighter.

“If you need to go back to work, it’s okay,” Bianca said softly.

Reid met Morgan’s eyes in the mirror, the problem clear in his eyes. Reid shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I can’t leave you.”

“But… I have friends I can call. If it’s important--”

Reid’s phone buzzed again. It lit up to reveal a text from Hotch: he was aware of the situation and Reid did not have to come in until it was resolved. Reid sighed in relief and put his arm around Bianca, nudging her so that her head was on his shoulder again.

“Nothing’s more important than you,” he said in her ear.

It was too quiet for Morgan to hear, but the small, shy smile that graced Bianca’s features was enough to let him know of his friend’s plans.

“We just came back from a case, so we probably don’t have to leave again,” Morgan said. “Hotch probably just wants us to go over reports. I can cover for you, man.”

Reid smiled slightly and gave a tight nod. “Thanks.”

“Aaron Hotchner?” Bianca said. She smiled up at Reid. “I want to meet the rest of your team now.”

“Well, maybe we can arrange that for another day,” Reid said.

“Oh, really? I was thinking we could invite them all to the emergency room,” Bianca deadpanned.

It took both men a moment to realize that she was being sarcastic. Reid laughed and buried his face in her hair, and began whispering something else to her. Morgan chuckled and shook his head. He was beginning to like Reid’s girlfriend.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #bianca bennett

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Love Me Less

A/n: This was up on Patreon a week before I posted it here, I release fics around a week early over there and have some Patreon exclusive drabbles, fanart, so feel free to check it out at my Patreon. Commissions are also always open. I’m going to be doing profiles and such for characters here too, so stay tuned!

Summary: Jimin is an undercover cop, and you know he’s lying to you. But he’s trapped in a huge mess, and he doesn’t want you in the crossfire. Multifandom Mafia AU (BTS, EXO, Got7)

Warnings: Some violence, mention of drug use, angst

Word Count: 2892

Jimin winces when the door shuts too loudly, but it doesn’t matter anyway, because you’re sitting at the kitchen table and there’s a bag packed by your feet and his heart sinks to his toes. Suddenly he’s so tired he can barely hold his head up, and you’re looking at him warily and he can’t help thinking about how this all started.

Jimin couldn’t help but notice you bartending at this little place near the freeway, a dive bar called the Dirty Dozen and owned by Min Yoongi, who was well known for playing all sides of the game, letting certain gangs drink free depending on who owned the area that month. He’d been trying to blend in, trying to be just another thug ordering soju from you, but he couldn’t help catching your eyes when you brought him a drink in these little cut off shorts, asking you about the tattoo on the long line of your thigh.

It’s second nature, flirting with a bartender, especially one that looks like you, and your easy smile made the two years he’d already been undercover seem just a little bit lighter. It’s fun and casual and easy, and he tells himself it’s just for intel, buying you soju so that your tongue gets looser, maybe you’ll slip out something about Kim Yugyeom since he was always hanging around you at the bar.

A month later, he has a drawer at your apartment and he’s spending four nights a week there, barely making it out of the house to meet with Namjoon and Hoseok because he just can’t stop kissing your upturned mouth.

Hoseok gives him a wary look the sixth time he shows up with your nude lipstick on his collar, and throws a few pictures on the interrogation table. Jimin only glances at them, sees they’re mostly of you with those long thighs draped over his lap at the bar, and looks up at Hoseok expectantly.

“What? You gonna tell me you never got some strange while undercover?”

Hoseok shrugs, sits down across from him, slumped in the chair a bit, legs spread wide.

“Sure. But that’s not what this is, and we both know it.”

Jimin leans back in his chair, smirking a little, putting his hands behind his head. He hasn’t even seen Jung in a couple of months, not since he’d given him the poke and stick “Nevermind” across his ribs, telling him if he’d be telling people that he’d done time, no one would ever believe he got away without a mark.

“It’s not? You know something I don’t?”

“I know you’re spending an awful lot of time at her place.”

Jimin shrugs. “That Yugyeom kid from the Im gang is sweet on her. Sometimes he tells her stuff.”

“Yeah? You think he’ll keep doing that after you threw him up against the bar wall last night?” Hoseok says, deadpan, and Jimin laughs a bit.

“What can I say? I’ve always been a bit territorial.”

“Just tell me you aren’t getting too deep, Jiminie,” Hoseok says, softly, and Jimin loses his smile, sighs and places his forearms on the table.

“Maybe I am. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell, Seok. At first it was just a pretty smile and long legs and intel, but now… I’ve been in this what? 18 months now? It’s easy enough to believe a street kid from Busan chose a different path. Hell, sometimes I believe it myself.”

Namjoon comes in, then, with a huge file, and Hoseok groans.

“Fun’s over. Christ, look at that paperwork.”

“It’s good news,” Namjoon promises, throwing it down on the table with a thud. He looks as if he’d had one too many late nights, his white button up wrinkled and stained with coffee, hair mussed and too long at the collar.

"Good news?" Hoseok looks skeptical.

Namjoon slides a photograph out of the file and flashes them at Jimin.

"This is your girl, yeah?"

Jimin stiffens a bit. It's you, all right, piggybacking on this muscle pig's back, he'd recognize those legs anywhere.

He nods. "Who's the beefcake?"

"Lee Hoseok. He was high up in Hyunwoo's crew until he went ghost a couple of months ago. Everyone thought he was dead along with Hyunwoo, but turns out both of them have been in lock up over in Daegu. Turned themselves in, been ratting out all their friends for weeks. We just got the file."

Jimin groans. "So you're telling me the crew I've been trying to bust for a fucking year and a half just rolled over? Just like that?"

"Just like that," Namjoon agrees, but he's rifling in the file again and Jimin knows there's more.

He slides a photograph across the table to Jimin.

Jimin looks it over curiously. The guy is tall, lean but his suit is expertly tailored and there are muscles there, for sure. His first undercover stint had been in an underground fight club and he hadn't broken the habit of sizing people up. Probably not too strong, but fast, likely, well balanced. His hands look manicured so he probably didn't get his hands dirty, and that suit…

"New player? Family ties, I'd guess?"

Namjoon nods. "Good eye. He's Kim Junmyeon's cousin, and mostly we'd dismissed him because he stays quiet, to himself. Lately he's been seen with Do and Zhang, though, and the rumor is that he's up to take over for Kim."

"He looks young," Jimin muses. He's handsome, full mouth, charming smile.

"He's only a few years older than you. We'd expected Minseok for next in line but he's been in the spotlight so much, been arrested five times this year. This kid... Jongin... he's clean. No record at all."

Jimin throws the photograph down on the table. "What's this got to do with me?"

"Turns out he drinks at your girl's bar. Not only that, Min says he tips double when she serves him."

Jimin frowns. "Min's giving intel again?"

Hoseok snorts. "Yoongi would sell out his own mother for a few thousand won."

Namjoon nods, his eyes going wide and bright like he gets when he's chasing something.

"Your girl has all the connects. She used to live with this Lee Hoseok and now someone from Im's crew and Jongin have the hots for her? You've gotta stick with her."

"She's popular," Hoseok grins, and Jimin wants to punch him in his perfect teeth.

"So you brought me in to tell me to use my girlfriend for intel?"

"Oh, she's your girlfriend now?" Hoseok teases, but Jimin ignores him.

"She's got ties to three of the major players in Seoul, Jimin. You know how to pick em."

Jimin leaves soon after, popping the collar of his leather jacket against the wind. He's pissed off, having them tell him to stay with you as if he'd ever had any intention of leaving.

Hoseok was right. He'd been in over his head since the moment you'd smiled at him and now that he knew you lived and worked in a snake's den, it made panic claw up his throat to think that he couldn't protect you.

First, Kim Yugyeom with his predator's eyes and wolf's smile and now the fucking future head of the Kim crew?

Jaebeom and Hyunwoo were small potatoes compared to Kim, dabbling in carjacking and marijuana mostly.

Kim had his fingers in all the pies, heroin and cocaine smuggling, black market guns, whores, every crime you could think of, they were committing...and most of them got away clean.

Only a couple of them even had records and it was for petty shit like battery or simple assault.

Jimin would have stayed with you anyway because of the way he felt waking up with your long leg looped over his hip, the way you'd grumble and tuck your face into his neck in the mornings.

But now? He had to make sure you were safe, no matter what that meant for him.

It's less than a month later when everything falls apart for Jimin, and he can't tell you a single word of it.

Jimin manages to track this low level crew boss, a foreign kid, not even 21, goes by Lucas to an opium den.

He catches him outside the abandoned building, has the arrest warrant based on pictures and intel already. There's no one in the alley so Jimin cuffs him on the spot as he whines in protest. Then he hears a familiar verse and drops the kid on the ground, cursing.

"Well well well," Yugyeom drawls. "Park Jimin the piglet. I can't fucking believe it."

"Don't fucking try me, Kim. I could bust you right now."

"Bet you won't. Bet you won't want that pretty little thing of yours knowing how clean you really are, yeah? She wouldn't like you as much."

Yugyeom is grinning, eyes glassy from alcohol or weed or god knows what and he's getting closer to Jimin.

"Don't-" Jimin warns, already instinctively spreading his legs, in a fighting stance while barely realizing it.

"Baby likes it dirty," Yugyeom continues. "She likes to slum it, I should know."

Jimin's hands are itching to clock him, right on the chin because Yugyeom isn't protecting himself at all, too drunk or stupid to block, but he waits for him to get closer.

Yugyeom is tall and lean, has a higher center of gravity and the closer he gets the better, and they always do, the tall ones, think because they tower over Jimin they have the advantage.

But they're easy, always go high, swing wide without protecting their middle and when Yugyeom swings, Jimin ducks and punches him in the gut, a sharp jab that takes the younger man's breath.

While he's gasping for air, doubled over, Jimin grabs him, swings him around and puts a knee in his lower back, taking him to the ground easily.

Yugyeom is still laughing and Jimin presses down on the back of his neck, grinding his face into the gravel.

Lucas is staring wide eyed at them, having turned over on his side, but Jimin ignores him.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" Jimin growls, and Yugyeom's snorts, blood spurting from his nose when Jimin presses down harder.

"Now I get to do whatever I want. You can't fucking touch me."

Jimin's heart sinks and he hauls them both into the station but of course, Yugyeom is right, he sings like a canary and now he's an informant and Jimin can't touch him with a ten foot pole.

Now instead of shoving him into the bar wall for palming your ass when he slips a tip into your back pocket, Jimin has to grit his teeth and ignore it.

Jimin buys a ring after nine months, keeps it in a sock in his underwear drawer because he can't get down on one knee when he's lying to you.

He starts to drink more than he should, stays out too late because he can't bear to come home and lie to you about where he's been.

The third or fourth night he gets home and you're already asleep, you wake when he plops down clumsily on the bed, turning over and trailing your hand across his chest.

"Baby," you murmur. "What's wrong?"

There's something stuck in his throat, all the secrets he's been keeping from you and he snakes an arm around you, squeezing you tight.

He can't bear to say "nothing" because that'd just be another lie so he tugs you on top of him and kisses you silent.

When he's got you flipped onto your back, buried inside you, he says the one thing he can, the one truth he can tell you, over and over.

"I love you, jagi. You know I love you, yeah?"

But of course, love isn't enough.

He ends up here anyway, with you looking at him with hollow, wary eyes.

"Jagi-" he starts, but you cut him off.

"Is there someone else?" You ask, your voice low and shaking.

Jimin scoffs. He's barely noticed other women even exist since you'd come into his life, but when he puts himself in your shoes, he supposes it isn't a far stretch.

"Not since the moment you smiled at me, jagi," he says earnestly, and your face softens.

"Then what is it? What's going on?"

You stand up, come around the table to wrap your arms around his waist and Jimin wants so badly to tell you everything, to pour out all the secrets that burn like acid in his throat.

"You're leaving me," is all he can choke out, his voice hoarse, and you sigh and rest your forehead against his chest.

"I don't want to," you admit, locking your hands at his back.

"Then don't. Jagi. Y/n. Please don't."

You shake your head against his chest and Jimin's heart cracks right down the middle when you look up at him, tears standing in your eyes.

"All you have to do is tell me the truth."

His throat works and you sniffle.

"Jiminie...please. I don't care what it is. We'll work it out just...just tell me."

He feels tears rolling down his face and he doesn't bother to stop them.

"Please," he pleads, and you release him, put a hand on your suitcase and Jimin wants to rip it from you, throw it across the room but all he can do is stand there and watch you, a sob catching in his chest.

He can't watch you leave, stands with his back to you, and when he hears the door close behind you, quiet and anticlimatic, something inhuman rips from his chest and he grabs onto the back of the dining room chair when his knees give out.

Jimin lets himself wallow, turning off his phone so that he doesn't call to beg you to come home, crying into your pillow because it smells like your shampoo, going only as far as the corner store to replenish the soju he replaces all his meals with.

It's Hoseok that finally nearly breaks down his door and Jimin stumbles to the door and jerks him inside, rubbing at the stubble on his chin and blinking at him blearily.

Hoseok looks around at the bottles of soju littering the table and Jimin gives him a look.

"Don't, Jung."

Jimin expects him to berate him, tell him he was stupid for falling in love and losing all their intel, but he doesn't.

Hoseok just puts a hand on his shoulder, pulls him into a hug, and Jimin can't stop the tears that are always so close to the surface.

After Jimin is sniffling instead of sobbing and Hoseok has gathered all the bottles to throw in the garbage, he sits down at the kitchen table.

"Jimin...I came to tell you something."

"Fuck," Jimin mumbles, rubbing a hand across his face and taking a long sip of the glass of water Hoseok had brought him.

Hoseok nods. "Jongin is spending four nights a week at the Dirty Dozen."

"Let me guess," Jimin says tiredly. "Only the nights Y/n works."

"Bingo. Joon has been going in your absence, he's gotten close to the other bartender. Y/n is living with her and Joon says…" Hoseok pauses and Jimin drops his forehead to the table.

"Just spit it out, Jung." He says miserably, keeping his head on the table.

"Joon says Y/n went home with Jongin a couple nights ago."

Jimin had been bracing himself for what his friend would say next but he hadn't been prepared for this, how it took the very breath from his lungs.

"No," he wheezes through the pinhole that has become his throat. "No, he's wrong, it's only been a couple of days, she wouldn't-"

"You've been mia over two weeks, Jimin," Hoseok says softly.

Jimin gasps in a breath, lifts his head.

"We've got an unmarked car following her. We'll watch out for her, you don't have to-"

Jimin barks out a bitter laugh. "Shut up. Just shut up, Seok. Of course I do."

Hoseok sighs and nods. "I told Joon you'd say that. Word of advice?'

Jimin looks at him.

"Shower first."

So Jimin ends up right back where he started, sitting at a table at the back of The Dirty Dozen breathing in the fog of tobacco smoke and the errant joint, watching you walk toward him with a bottle of soju and a shot glass.

"Hey," he says dumbly, and you give him a ghost of your easy smile that makes his heart skip.

"Hey, Jiminie. Long time no see."

You pout the shot and go to leave but Jimin takes your wrist.

"Ah, leave the bottle."

You frown at him, and he wants to tell you he has to stay a certain level of drunk so that he doesn't beg you to come home, break down when Jongin inevitably shows up and arrest him the second he smiles at you, to keep the steady ache in his chest just numb enough.

You leave the bottle, though, going back behind the bar, and sure enough, Jongin has already slipped in while Jimin was distracted, leaning across the bar with a big smile.

Jimin takes in a shaky breath and downs the shot, thinking he had a lot of long nights ahead of him.

#jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #park jimin #jimin imagine #bts mafia au #undercover detective Jimin #kim namjoon #jung hoseok #kim jongin #exo mafia au #monsta x mafia au #got7 mafia au

[maybeishouldwritesomething]

When Crowley finally gathers up the courage to admit how he feels about Aziraphale, he expects the angel’s usual theatrics. Shock, disgust, most likely a mix of both. He’ll have to watch him pace the floor while he flaps his hands nervously and tells Crowley how wrong it is, and how he’ll never feel the same. 

Maybe they’ll fall out again. Maybe it’ll be forever this time.

What he isn’t expecting at all, is what actually happens.

“Oh, thank goodness, I thought you’d never say it, and I couldn’t bear the thought of it. Could you imagine having to sit with that hanging over your head for the rest of eternity? No, wouldn’t do at all, would it? Of course, the feeling’s mutual, has been for years. Tea, dear?”

After six thousand odd years, Crowley thinks his heart’s finally packing in, because this cannot be happening.

“Coffee- I’m sorry, what?”

Aziraphale gives him a look, the one that says ‘Oh, do keep up, will you?’

“Well, I could hardly say it, now, could I? I can’t afford another letter from upstairs, and I could only imagine what kind of trouble admitting my feelings to a demon would get me into. But now you’ve said it. So it’s alright.”

Crowley’s beginning to wonder if he’d ever left that opium den in 1872, because this has to be a hallucination.

Wildest fantasy.

Dream come true.

“So, you’ve felt- And I’m- And we’re-” Crowley clears his throat. “Right.”

Aziraphale just nods and smiles, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Crowley’s always been the one full of surprises – it’s in the job description of demon, after all – but Aziraphale had always had a knack for pulling the rug out from under his feet.

He’d never complained about it, though. And he isn’t about to start now.

#my writing is always a little too long for a headcanon and a little short for a fic but here we are #also to those of you who follow me for gammahammer i do have something soft in the works #good omens #ineffable husbands #otp: ineffable #aziracrow #aziraphale/crowley #crowley/aziraphale #tanja's headcanon #tanja's writing

[skippyv20]

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON ……… Re-Hab-itual behaviour ……” Gone In sixty seconds”…… ( six weeks?) ……… no sight, sound or visual,no optics???? …… old photos, photo shops and disinformation!!……… “ there OK, ma’am!!”…… “ones duty is, keep muddying the waters”…… The Peoples Princess, WHAT!!! ……… “capitalise on it ma’am”…… “AMERICA”…… “are you a gambling man LG?”……… “ only on absolutes”…… Charlotte’s wish-list Web 🤣🐴🦄🎼💕……… “what’s that racket basil”… “It’s Brahms, Brahms 4th racket”🤣🤣🤣🤣

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANOM🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

December 9/2019

1715 hrs CST

RIDDLE #139

Re-Hab-itual behaviour 

Invisibility, when one is used to constant visibility breeds rumours of all sorts. Is she/they in rehab? What is she up to! Where is she up to it? Is she incarcerated, in custody, in psych care, in SoHo, in Siberia? Where where where? What is she up to? Hobbies, yachting, hiding out, in an opium den in the Far East?? Her irregular patterns or behaviour are regular, so some of these must be correct, maybe even a combination of them.

“ Gone In sixty seconds”…… ( six weeks?) ……… no sight, sound or visual,no optics???? …… old photos, photo shops and disinformation!!

It’s a film , l have not seen, because you all know by now, the films l prefer. Will she gone after this six weeks? Is she already gone? There has been nothing new at all, in any media format! The only ‘new’ was last weeks Instagram of a years old visit to Hubb bakery with photos so poorly photoshopped it MUST HAVE BEEN done purposefully! A blind individucoukd see the horrible photoshopped job. Her hairstyle was different in two of the photos! So again, disinformation, love how a makeup les Adele was squeezed in at the top, unrecognizable without her trademark black eyeliner!

“ there OK, ma’am!!”…… “ones duty is, keep muddying the waters”…… 

LG assuring HMTQ they are ok. HMTQ feeling strong that her duty and instructions being followed are to continue to muddy the waters, sew seeds of confusion regarding madam. Her sugars are falling off the sticky cone like flies who normally stick to it!!

The Peoples Princess, WHAT!!! ……… “capitalise on it ma’am”…… “AMERICA”…… “are you a gambling man LG?”……… “ only on absolutes”

Madams goal/obsession has been to be Diana 2.0, sacrile en Francais! She wants to be America’s Princess now, they don’t have titles there but the truth has never ever stopped her before. HMTQ enquiring of LG his gamesmanship! He replies only on things he knows, sees, can confirm 100%! Madam is counting on her home country to Dave her and welcome her as their princess huh, nary princess, THEIR QUEEN!!

Charlotte’s wish-list Web 🤣🐴🦄🎼💕

Our Princess Charlotte, yes of course loves her unicorns, but a living breathing rideable horse, THATS THE TICKET! Christmas gift! She is singing her pleas for one, with all the sweetness that we know a little girl can muster, and l have no doubt she can muster with the best of them!💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 If she cannot have a pony, or even if she can, she still wants a unicorn, this is the song sheet she is reading from!

“what’s that racket basil”… “It’s Brahms, Brahms 4th racket”🤣🤣🤣🤣

Every time l hear Basil, l go straight to Barcelona and Fawlty Towers in Torkey , or kortey, or yer knot , orketort.. etc etc If you are fans of the classic you will immediately undestand my letter switching and no doubt be laughing madly now. The episode where Basils wife Sybil, henpecks him, well that’s every episode🤣🤣, but the one about him needing to do two tasks, the menu and hang a picture, but he is listening  to music Brahms 4 th, is hilarious!  I am not sure how this relates to things. I am rather out of the loop today. I haven’t read a paper, no tv, nothing, not the blog except to find the riddle. Please forgive. 

THANK YOU DEAR MM ANON for the Fawlty Towers memories, l grew up on that and Monty Python!!! Back when CBC was more BBC than CBC!!! The good old days😊.

1745 hrs CST

Thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much dear PG....sounds great.  Much appreciated 😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

#Ask Skippy #submission

[asktheghosthost]

Eulalie didn't knock before entering the attic; it was her house, after all, at least in her summation.

This would be her first mistake.

Skirts in her fingertips to avoid dust and debris on her hems, (an impossible task, really), she headed to the far back left corner. Once there, she sifted through a pile of old, cracked leather trunks, found one that seemed promising, opened it, and began to rummage.

This was mistake number two. A certain occupant of the attic would see to it there'd be no number three.

As Eulalie hummed and sorted through knickknacks, a figure, ethereal and blue, slithered up behind her. Although her white gown and veil billowed about her as if she were underwater, the fabric made no noise. When she raised her arms, there was only the faintest shing as a hatchet appeared in her grip. Her blue eyes shone in malevolent glee as she brought down the blade.

Eulalie turned around, knitting needle in hand, and blocked the weapon, pressing just under the blade head.

The women stared each other down, unflinching, for a few seconds.

It was the bride who's face broke into a grin first. "Oh, Ms. Gracey..." She drew the hatchet back and it simply vanished from sight. "We really ought to hang out more."

Eulalie tucked the needle into her bun. "We need to both quit being such hermits first." She went back to her search.

"Well, you're making a good first step. Coming into my attic and all," Constance said with a sniff. She crossed her arms. "Couldn't even warn a lady you're barging in. I could've been indecent."

"Your entire existence is indecent." Eulalie suddenly stopped, a slack- jawed expression of exasperation on her face. She held up a photo album. It was adorned with lace, and embroidered on the front was Constance and Ambrose. "Why is your junk in one of my trunks?"

Constance had the shame to look a little sheepish as she shrugged. "Ran out of room. What are you looking for anyway?"

Eulalie frowned thoughtfully. "A family relic... My father's, nothing of the Graceys."

Constance furrowed her brow and curled a knuckle against her lip, then turned to look around the room. "Hmm... You know..." She pointed at the back right corner, furthest from the tour route. As she spoke, she bounced her finger. "Beauregard did drag some things over there."

Eulalie followed the bride's gaze. A square had been made up of trunks, rugs, and old pillows. Give it a blanket roof, and it would have looked like the forts she and her brother had made as children. When she gave Constance a confused glance, the other grimaced.

Reluctantly, Constance explained, "He goes back there to smoke..."

Eulalie glowered.

"None of us here mind!"

"He said he had quit. Back when he was alive."

"Oh, allow the man one vice, darling. Opium isn't the worst thing you can do. I mean... look at us. There are far worse habits out there."

Eulalie gasped and looked her up and down. "I did not have a habit of murder!"

Constance snorted. "One's a crime of passion. Two's a habit. Besides, no one is judging you. Certainly not me."

Eulalie rolled her eyes, but didn't speak of it anymore. Instead, she went over to search the trunks in her little brother's makeshift opium den.

It took another fifteen minutes, but she finally found her prize. Holding it close, tears came to her eyes, but she wiped them away before they could fall.

Constance peeked over her shoulder. "Oh."

***

It was later that evening when Eulalie found her brother in the ballroom. He was standing, straight as a board, right fist against the small of his back and the left hand cupping his long chin, as he gazed up at the towering Christmas tree. Their fellow spirits had really gone all out this year on decorating. Not a single ornament repeated or matched any kind of pattern. Silver, red, and gold tinsel glinted with the fireplace flames flickering feet away. They had argued over whether a star or angel should be on top, so they compromised and glued wings and a halo on a star. Granted, the wings had been taxidermied from a dead crow someone had found in the graveyard, but the spirit of comradery was what was important.

It seemed he hadn't noticed her as she stepped up beside him, still caught in his reverie. So she cleared her throat and spoke. "It's a beautiful tree this year."

He didn't look her way, but lowered his arms and clasped his hands behind his back. "Yes..." he drawled, his deep voice slow and soft. "A lovely tree corpse. Perhaps one of the prettiest fire hazards I've ever seen."

She chuckled at that, and his green eye rolled to catch her mirth. A tiny smirk curved his lips and he swiveled his body around to face her. "How can I be of service to you, Sissy?"

She slung her arm through his and started pulling him away. "Come with me. I have a surprise for you!"

Bewildered, he followed suite. Enthusiasm had not been something typical of Eulalie, not since she was a young girl, anyway.

Their short journey took them to the main window of the foyer, the one that visitors saw first.

Sitting on a table in full view, shining from a fresh polish, was a menorah, one that Beau instantly recognized even though he hadn't seen it in over a century.

"That's... That's papa's..."

"Yes." She pulled him closer to it, proud of her work.

"Where..."

"In the attic." She raised a brow. "In your little smoking hut."

He winced, recoiling back in shame, and tried to stammer out an excuse. She raised a hand to interrupt him.

"Beau, I realize how awful things were for you. It wasn't until I was older that I attempted to avenge you. By then, it was too late." She stared at the menorah, biting her lip to turn back the tightening in her throat. "There was so much more I should have done when you were alive..." The tears couldn't be held back anymore. "I was such a terrible big sister!"

He couldn't recall a time past her teens he'd ever seen her cry. Here she was sobbing. "Eulie..." He hugged her tightly and held her until the shaking subsided to sniffles. "Eulie... Sissy... I forgave you a long time ago."

Her eyes opened wide in surprise as she looked up at him. Her cheek had brushed against the rough noose forever tied around his neck. It always reminded her of her failure to act before he had...

"I'll always be your little brother." Even as he said this, he had to lean down some inches to lovingly nuzzle his forehead against hers. "Nothing will ever change that."

She squeezed his hands. "And I'll always be your big sister." She raised herself on her toes to kiss his brow. "Would you like to light the first candle?" She gestured to the table.

"Together," he said, picking up the Shamash.

After it was lit, they took a step back to admire the menorah. It was reflected in the glass of the window, as if it had a sibling, too.

She put her head on his shoulder, and he put an arm around her. Nothing had felt like this since they were children. They hadn't realized until now how much it was missed.

"Happy Hanukkah, Beau."

"Happy Hanukkah, Eulalie."

#drabble #short story #fan fic #beau #eulalie #my stories

[sapphicscholar]

Pride Month Prompts Day 15: Sleepover (Grace/Frankie)

From this Pride Month Prompts post! I’m taking the opportunity to write some short fics for a variety of pairings that I haven’t written for as much, maybe at all. They won’t be going on AO3, so I’ll be sure to tag them all with #pride month prompts so you can find them later if you want.

 Day 15: Sleepover

Pairing: Grace/Frankie

A/N: Set post-S5, so some spoilers as a heads up

Grace’s second sleepover is just as unexpected as her first one had been. Her first, a night of squatting in a home that had, until so recently, been hers, was filled with floor mattresses and squealing pigs and lukewarm vodka and secret sharing that Frankie had insisted was part of the quintessential sleepover experience. Her second comes after a teary beach confession. Her knees ache from the attempt at running across the sand to a woman she’d once sworn she’d never voluntarily spend a single minute with; a sense of betrayal and loss still hang heavy in the air between them; and the night is filled with chilled vodka and apologies and explanations Grace feels compelled to provide even though she’s made it a policy ever since starting her own business never to justify her personal choices to anyone but herself—and sometimes she doesn’t even like to think too hard on her own about her life choices.

The third sleepover doesn’t arrive until the night the divorce is finalized, even though Grace has slept in the beach house plenty of times since then. But on the day everything goes through, Frankie meets her with a joint and a pile of Brat Pack movies that neither of them really want to see but Frankie insists are slumber party classics. The mattresses are already set up in the living room, though this time there’s an extra pillow for Grace’s knee, and there’s enough electricity to go around without siphoning it off the neighbors’ grid. Frankie is considerate enough to pretend not to notice the small sob quickly stifled in Grace’s sleeve as they’re both falling asleep.

From then on, the sleepovers become a semi-regular occurrence almost every month, with Frankie insisting that Grace was deprived of a very important adolescent ritual. Grace finds herself becoming accustomed to a whole host of party games that she can sometimes admit are fun, particularly when they’re played with a martini in hand.

During the fourth sleepover, after vetoing Twister by reminding Frankie about their afternoon spent as floor people together, Grace plays Truth or Dare for the first time (everyone in college had insisted they were much too mature for it by then). Among other dares, Grace ends up drinking an awful concoction of the first three things Frankie puts her hands on in the fridge while blindfolded, and Frankie, in turn, experiences the joys of one of her first martinis, though she insists the olives are the only decent part of the whole thing. Grace talks more about her first kiss with a girl, while Frankie regales Grace with tales of her first time getting stoned. The game skids to an abrupt end when a rather tipsy Frankie—“How do you drink more than one of these? The whole world’s staring backwards at me, Grace!”—asks Grace to talk about her best sexual experience for a truth.

At sleepover number five, Frankie introduces Grace to the joys of prank phone calls. Frankie goes first to show her how it’s done, calling Bud and asking in a lower voice if his refrigerator is running. Only, while she’s giggling, he lets out a loud sigh: “We’ve all got caller ID these days, Mom. I’m going, alright?” After that, a google search reveals the magic of *67, then a long rabbit hole of all the other * extensions, and Grace, several martinis in, rolls her eyes but still gives in to Frankie’s pleading and manages a whole phone call to a San Diego bar asking if a Seymour Butts is there. Frankie tries Bud again when Coyote doesn’t answer, but Grace draws the line at her own daughters. She hasn’t told them about the sleepovers yet. She isn’t sure why, but she doesn’t want to share this…thing just yet. Like the handful of Say Yes nights, the sleepovers are something private. Something fun in a genuine way that stands so at odds with the kind of person Grace Hanson presents herself as to the rest of society. Something reserved for her and Frankie and no one else—them against the world.

Sleepover six is postponed by a week thanks to a family gathering, but Frankie makes up for lost time by coming down wholly prepared with tiny books and a handful of pens Grace recognizes as having gone missing from her purse and desk and bedside table over the past few weeks. They spend the night playing Mad Libs that Frankie delights in making as filthy as she can, cackling as Grace reads each half-nonsensical story back to her. She saves a particularly explicit one where scissoring had been her verb of choice because it had actually gotten a reaction out of Grace other than an eye roll or a deep sigh—though both of those had happened too. Grace is too distracted by Frankie’s cries of excitement to notice that Frankie cuts her off after two martinis. The night doesn’t seem any less fun for the loss.

It’s at their seventh sleepover that Grace learns the joys of MASH and homemade fortune tellers. She’s quite pleased to learn that George Clooney will be her next husband and listens patiently as Frankie explains that they’ll live in a mansion and drive a Jeep—“You’re gonna have to use a whole can of hairspray every ride. I’ll light a candle for the poor Earth.”—and somehow manage to have another two children. Grace furrows her brow in confusion when Frankie appears just as delighted to learn that Grace will be her wife, even though they’ll be living in a shack with a pet snake and no car. Frankie had shrugged off Grace’s confusion, ready with an answer for every question. “We’re basically married now.” (Grace doesn’t question why the thought makes her stomach swoop, not unlike the sensation of cresting up and over a steep hill too fast in her car.) “Can’t be worse than Walden Villas, and we got through that together.” “Better than those wild fuckers in Santa Fe. Everywhere you went: surprise snakes!” “Cars are bad for the Earth. I need to make up for all your hairspray, Grace!”

One night, Grace arrives home after dinner with Brianna and Mallory to find a note waiting on the kitchen table that says nothing more than: “In the studio. Come over when home.”

There’s also a text waiting for her: “Plz bring cheese curls. Thnx!”

When she gets out to the studio, a bag of cheese curls tucked under her arm and her phone clutched in her hand, she finds that the whole space has been taken over by pillows and mattresses and colorful, draped sheets and swaths of fabric that she’d only vaguely registered Frankie bringing home over the past few months. Some of them shimmer with gold and silver threads embedded in the fabric, and the smell of incense wafts through the air.

“It looks like an opium den in here,” Grace mutters to herself.

A moment later, Frankie’s head pops out from a side entrance. “Really? Oh good, I was worried I might have gone too mainstream and hit hipster coffee shop.”

“No, no, solidly opium den.”

“Come in?”

And it’s going to hurt her knees and probably muss her hair, and she’d only voluntarily done this for her own grandchildren one time before deciding it was enough for a lifetime, but Frankie has done this for her, Frankie is waiting in there for her, so Grace will go.

Inside, Frankie waits with two glasses of wine, only half-filled, and a small plate of snacks that are a step up from the typical junk food fare on these nights that Grace refuses to touch until she’s too distracted to keep all of her attention focused on calories and sugar and fat.

“Have extra time today?” Grace asks, casting a glance around at the ornate decorations.

“You don’t just miss the one-year anniversary of your first ever intentional, non-squatting slumber party, now do you?” It’s said in that tone of voice that suggests everything is fine and light and breezy, that nothing matters more or less than anything else, which so easily slides into the idea that nothing matters to Frankie at all, but Grace catches the sense of sincerity lurking in the background. Some old memory pulls at the back of her mind—something about grand gestures and how important they were, something about their uses…

After a few minutes and a few false starts with Frankie attempting to ask something only to trail down on those long, winding tangents that lead her back to where she began only about half of the time, Frankie finally proposes that they play a good game of Truth or Dare.

It takes three rounds for Grace to choose dare, and Frankie takes a deep breath when she does. “I dare you to dare me to ask you something important next round.”

Grace may not have ever played the game before Frankie, but she’s fairly certain that isn’t how the rules work. Still, she nods anyway. It’s better not to disagree with Frankie, even when she does things like insisting that the entire phrase, “got to scissoring,” should count as a past tense verb for Mad Libs. So she asks Frankie, “Truth or dare?” and isn’t the least bit surprised when Frankie answers, “Dare.”

Frankie sits in silence, looking expectantly back at Grace.

“What?”

“Don’t you have something to dare me?”

Grace fixes Frankie with a disbelieving look, one eyebrow arched and her lips slightly pursed. “You already know what it is.”

“You have to dare me, though. Otherwise we might as well be playing the mind-reading game, and you know I’m always up to try it, but you never seem to be thinking about any of the things that I can see.”

“That’s because you always guess Del Taco burritos, martinis, and vibrators!” Just because two of those are true more often than she’d like them to be doesn’t make it a great guess.

“Grace,” Frankie nearly whines. “Are you going to dare me?”

“Fine.” Grace holds up her hands, trying to preempt an explanation about the ethics of accepting a dare and then reneging on the dared action. “I dare you to ask me something important.”

Frankie clasps her hands together in her lap, twisting at a chunky ring adorning her middle finger. “We’ve gone through a lot of shit together these past few years. And at our first ever sleepover, you asked me if I wanted to do something. I said no because, you know, we’re Grace and Frankie!” Grace nods along because she thinks she gets it, gets what it means to go from being Grace and Robert, and Frankie and Sol, to Grace and Frankie, and fuck Robert and Sol. “I squatted you until we were best friends, and now we have our thing. That thing where we get our house back and fight the bureaucratic machine that is the post office and make vibrators for people like us.”

“Okay.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about…that other thing. That thing that might make Grace and Frankie a different kind of thing. Well, we could still be amateur sleuths and fight the system and sell vibrators because how could we give any of that up when there are still so many Harriets out there that need us? Did you know—”

“Frankie!”

“Right. Anyway, if you don’t believe me that I’ve been thinking about it, I’ve got a whole bunch of paintings that aren’t as abstract as they should have been for Coyote’s last visit.” She gestures with her thumb somewhere behind her, which Grace has learned over years spent looking for ringing phones and TV remotes and bags of cheese curls doesn’t actually mean directly behind her but instead anywhere that isn’t directly in front of her. “So I thought maybe I could try asking myself. Eh, well, not quite, but Grace Hanson, do you want to kiss me? No joking or pranks or take-backsies. Just…just me asking.”

Grace blinks. Pauses. Doesn’t wait long enough to parse through why it was that her heart and body screamed yes before her head had registered the implications of the question. For once, she lets herself act on an impulse that she suspects won’t be anything like the destructive ones born of too many drinks and not enough food. She leans forward, finds Frankie meeting her halfway. Her lips are a little chapped, though her mouth blessedly does not yet taste like cheese curl dust, and the first few seconds are clumsy as they try to figure out angles and noses and long hair that seems to find its way between their lips again and again. But even still, before they’ve found their rhythm, Grace knows without a doubt that it’s the best first kiss she’s ever had. She doesn’t pull back until they’ve gotten the hang of things well enough that her breathing is shallow and fast.

Frankie beams up at her—wide and unconcerned and exultant. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t thrilled about the snake on that last MASH game, but maybe—and hear me out on this one—have you considered chickens?”

#pride month prompts #grace x frankie #grace hanson #frankie bergstein #grace and frankie #fanfic

[mythicallore]

Abandoned Places: Arizona

     Abandoned places have always drawn to them tales of the creepy and strange. There is something about a location that once was full of life falling to ruin that generates such stories, an inherit oddness to the worn out carcass of a once thriving place that invites such tales and ghostly phenomena. There are many accounts of derelict locations throughout the world that have become ground zero for all manner of weirdness, and one of these is a ghost town squatting out in the desert of Arizona, in the United States. It is a place of colorful history, death, and of numerous hauntings that continue to gain attention to this day.

Sitting out in the arid badlands of Arizona, up in in the Black Hills of Yavapai County between the cities of Flagstaff and Prescott is the town of Jerome. Founded in 1876 after claims were placed on large copper reserves in the area, Jerome sprung up out of the dry, cracked earth of these hills as a mining town, and at first was a mere dusty collection of ragtag tents. This would quickly change as more and more copper was found, as well as gold, silver, and zinc, and mining companies began to flock to the place, permanent structures were built at a steady clip, and the population quickly skyrocketed until this was a thriving boom town that would go on to boast a population of around 15,000 people in its heyday.

In order to entertain the thousands of miners and the ever growing population, numerous brothels, saloons, restaurants, and even opium dens began to sprout up here like weeds, and the town became rather notorious for its more unsavory elements and nafarious denizens. Indeed, in addition to its fame as a mining hotspot, Jerome also became equally infamous for its sprawling red light district and the large number of criminals, gamblers, and drug addicts crawling about, to the point that at one point it was once crowned as the “Wickedest City in the West” by newspapers of the era, a wretched hive of scum and villainy where you were just as likely to get shot, stabbed, or beaten as strike it rich.

For all of its success and riches, it was not meant to last, and by the time of the Great Depression Jerome’s mines had begun to dry up, sending its residents to scatter away in search of greener pastures. By the 1950s the mines’ riches had all but vanished, the population nosediving until only between 50 and 100 souls called this dry husk of a place home. It seemed that this once flourishing town was now withered, gasping, and destined to die a slow death out under the desert sun. For the most part this is exactly what happened, the all-but abandoned town becoming a feral, windswept collection of crumbling ruins seemingly destined to be re-absorbed by the desolate landscape from which it had all sprung.

Quite interestingly there would be quite an odd turn of events starting from the 1970s, when a community of artists, musicians, writers, and other creative types began to move into the dying town and reinvigorated it by promoting it as a sort of tourist attraction, setting up a Historical Society to manage it and giving it nicknames such as “America’s Largest Ghost Town” and “America’s First Ghost City.” Before long visitors began coming in to this historic but forgotten dried up place to get a glimpse of a bygone era, and Jerome enjoyed somewhat of a resurrection even as the permanent population crawled up past 500. No small part of the town’s renewed interest is that Jerome seems to be more than just a “Ghost Town” in name only, and is actually known for being inhabited by a good number of real ghosts, indeed often considered the most haunted ghost town in America.

With the town’s previous violent reputation as a den of villains, shady dealings, and deaths, as well as the numerous mining accidents that claimed many lives, it is perhaps no surprise at all that Jerome should be haunted, but the sheer number of supposedly spook infested places here is still rather impressive. One of the more famous of these is the former Lawrence Memorial Hall, which presently serves as the town’s Community Center and is perhaps more well-known for its nickname “Spook Hall.” According to the tale, the building was erected atop what was once an area of simple shacks that prostitutes used for conducting business. One of these ladies of the night was supposedly stabbed to death here, and her ghost has been frequently seen prowling the building ever since, wandering about the rooms and often knocking things over.

In Jerome’s heyday it actually wasn’t all that uncommon for prostitutes to turn up dead, and many of the town’s more haunted places originate in this fact. Indeed, the former Red Light District, often called Husband’s Alley back in the day, is said to be plagued by the ghosts of these lost souls, with visitors claiming that the disembodied voices of young women calling out to potential customers can still be heard in the night even when no one else is around. Here the apparition of a murdered prostitute named Sammie Dean can allegedly also be seen wandering around in a daze, supposedly eternally searching for her killer. One of the most popular Bordellos of the time is also one of the most haunted places to be found here.

Called The Mile High Inn and located right off of Husband’s Alley, this was the place of business of a Madam Jennie Bauters, and it was by far one of the most popular places to go for men looking for a little company at the time. Jennie would allegedly be killed by a guest, and the building has been intensely haunted ever since by a wide range of spirits. Of course the most well-known of these is Jennie herself, who is known to go about putting things away and moving objects around, and is quite notorious for doing this in the presence of maids. She is also said to be very active in the kitchen and restaurant area. In addition there is the ghost of an elderly man wearing work clothes and a felt hat, who is seen wandering around or peering in from widows, as well as leaving his indentation on beds and rearranging pictures on the walls. No one is quite sure who this gentleman is supposed to be, but he is apparently very active. Another ghost at the Inn is a younger man with a face plastered into a perpetual scowl, who lingers about the Victorian Rose Room and Inn restaurant, and is said to enjoy spooking guests by appearing before them or poking or pushing them.

Stranger still is a mysterious phantom cat said to prowl about leaving inexplicable footprints and brushing up against people, and is said to at time look so real that people will actually bend down to pick it up, upon which it melts away and vanishes into thin air right before their startled eyes. In addition to all of this the Inn is host to a wide variety of assorted paranormal phenomena, including the anomalous smell of perfume or roses that comes and goes without warning, moving objects, lights and faucets that turn on or off for no reason, disembodied footsteps and voices all about, a statue that apparently always turns around by itself to face the other way, and others. The kitchen and restaurant are apparently the most haunted of all, and guests have told of plates and cups being knocked off the table or out of their hands by unseen forces. The Mile High Inn is still in operation as a hotel today if you are ever in town and feeling brave.

Speaking of haunted hotels, Jerome has more than its fair share. Another such place is The Grand Hotel, which is often said to be even more haunted than the Mile High Inn. The origins of this particular haunting lie in the fact that the building was once the town’s mining hospital, which tended to the wounded men who had been involved in the area’s countless mining accidents, and which was also the last place they would ever see. The most notorious ghost here is that of what appears to be an old man in vintage miner clothing, who is said to particularly like turning off lights or appearing from nowhere to startle guests, and is also blamed for the frequent phone calls that come from vacant rooms of the hotel to the lobby, only for the person on the other end to hang up. Other ghosts of assorted miners are said to mill about in the hotel lobby, where they have a habit of moving around the furniture and jostling guests. There is also often the sound of disembodied gasping and wheezing heard throughout the hotel.

The elevator of the Grand Hotel is also said to be haunted by a maintenance man named Claude Harvey, who died here under mysterious circumstances, his body discovered pinned under the elevator. It would later be found that he had been most likely murdered and his body dumped into the elevator shaft, but whatever the cause of his death his ghost doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Harvey is known to push the buttons of the elevator as frightened guests look on, and is blamed for the lights flickering or going out even when the elevator is in perfect working order. On occasion he has materialized right in the elevator car as an apparition, only to blink out of existence as suddenly as he appeared. Other assorted ghosts of the hotel include a child who runs about giggling, a woman in a white dress, a man in a wheelchair, a nurse, a woman who supposedly died in childbirth, and a spectral dog, among others, and the hotel is a popular destination for paranormal investigators.

Also haunted is the somewhat lesser known Connor Hotel, which at one time was a popular and rather luxurious place to stay during Jerome’s boom years. Founded in 1898 by David Connor, in later years it has gained a reputation for being very haunted indeed. One of the location’s ghosts is Conner himself, who is often seen standing at the windows or Room 1 looking off into the distance, only to vanish. Indeed, it is Room 1 where most spirit activity is said to occur, with another ghost of a woman in red often seen here and all manner of paranormal activity associated with the room, to the point that it is rarely rented out. The hotel’s bar is also said to be fairly haunted, with the woman in red appearing here as well, often popping up right next to customers to give them a fright, and Connor’s ghost can sometimes be seen here sitting forlornly over a drink.

There are other supposedly haunted places besides red light districts and hotels in Jerome. One of the spookier such hauntings orbits the old abandoned mines that fan out in a sprawling network of 88 miles of perilous subterranean tunnels. Down here in these depths many a miner met their demise in an era when safety precautions were more of a guideline than a rule, and one of these was supposedly a miner known only as Charlie, who was decapitated in a horrible accident here, made all the more mysterious in that his head was apparently never found. However, for years the spectral form of a headless miner called “Headless Charlie” has been reported to stumble around through the murk of the tunnels, presumably still looking for his missing head. The haunted mines of Jerome are also known to spew forth unearthly moans, screams, and howls.

Last but not least, what haunted town would be complete without its own haunted cemetery? Jerome has several of these as well. Just outside of town is Hogback Cemetery, an overgrown, unkempt plot of weeds and decrepit, broken headstones dating back to Jerome’s founding, and which is said to be stalked by shadowy wraiths and restless spirits. There is also the historic Jerome Valley Cemetery, also called the Lower Jerome Cemetery, which opened in 1917 and was quickly inundated with the bodies of victims of a deadly influenza outbreak in 1918. Over the years most of the locations of these graves have been lost due to missing grave markers and incomplete records, so it is unknown just how many people were buried here. What is known is that it is widely rumored to be heavily haunted, with apparitions, mystery lights, and shadow figures commonly reported from here.

Jerome is certainly a place worth visiting, with its many quaint galleries, shops, restaurants, and museums as well as its historic buildings and colorful past. If anyone really wants to get the feeling that they have stepped straight into the old wild west, this is the place for you. However, it also appears to be a place full of the ghosts of the past, both figuratively and literally, and with so many haunted places it sometimes seems that the ghosts almost outnumber the full time residents. In fact, ghost tours have become a popular tourist attraction here in recent years, so one can take in the historical sites in the day and then go looking for specters and ghouls at night.

#paranormal #ghost town #haunted places #supernatural

[newmusicmonthly]

2019

Hello,

Missed me?

No longer a monthly mailer – just another end of year round up.

On reflection, perhaps I’ve played it a bit safe this year, but I didn’t feel there was as much great music out there as in previous years.

Yes, I too use Google, so I have listened to all the end of year Best Of lists online, and so those artists not included just didn’t resonate with me this year.

I maintain ‘bad guy’ off Billie Eilish’s record sounds like a Super Mario bonus level (probably in a spooky dungeon)… which I suppose isn’t a bad thing. And I love Lana, but I just didn’t think the latest record was all that. And the same was true of Angel Olsen, Nick Cave, Kanye, Hot Chip… but don’t get me started on Bon Iver: avant-garde “Kum ba yah” at best (sorry Rob).

But then that’s part of the joy of music, variety and differing opinions… so please share yours! What have I overlooked? What should be revisited? Where in the depths of streaming services is that killer track from 2019?

For now, here is my list of songs, somewhat crowbarred into the monthly format (as mentioned, this email was once called New Music Monthly Mailer with five tracks a month, and surely we need some level of constancy and accountability this year).

Enjoy, or not – but please do share your own choice picks.

Merry Christmas.

R x  

NEW MUSIC 2019

JANUARY

Sharon Van Etten - Seventeen Just go and watch her performance from Glastonbury: https://youtu.be/BM6jn891seU Seriously, from 2:45, just fucking brilliant.

J.S. Ondara - Saying Goodbye Lovely acoustic number and a great voice that evokes Tracy Chapman. 

Basekou Kouyate, Ngoni ba - Kanto kelena (feat. Habib Koite) Malian ngoni master returns to acoustic roots.

Delicate Steve - Selfie of a Man Synthy silly catchy instrumental pop-rock.

Steve Gunn - Vagabond Guitar troubadour telling stories of solitude with unostentatious guitar tones.

FEBRUARY

Mara Balls - Ikävä ikävää Driving Finnish Doom-lite.

Julie Jacklin - Body A narrative masterclass, sombre and brooding, but also simmering and pulsating.

Strand of Oaks - Weird Ways Big widescreen rock, which builds into a gorgeous swirl of sound, with Timothy on fine yet reflective form, backed by the band of My Morning Jacket.

Crows - Hang Me High Long awaited debut from Idles approved band, loud fuzz Mary Chain / Dom Keller vibes.

Kel Assouf - Fransa Desert blues, with all the best Tuareg styling, but added beefy production.

MARCH

Nick Waterhouse - Man Leaves Town Mr Waterhouse and band well in the pocket.

Dave - Streatham Heavy beats and piano lines soundtrack story of growing up in SW16. 

Karen O, Danger Mouse - Turn The Light Danger Mouse brings the gentle disco grooves underneath Karen’s swooning vocals.

Small Feet - The Lake Down tempo reverb and echoes float throughout this woozy directionless jam. 

The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Tombes Oubliées BJM do what BJM do best... in French. 

APRIL

The Comet Is Coming - Summon The Fire How can you not move to this?!

W.H. Lung - Empty Room Great new band (c.f. mailer 2017!), and as I already included ‘Inspiration!’ this is my second favourite cut from a top album.

Josefin Öhrn + The Liberation - Feel The Sun Another great artist (championed back in 2016 I think you’ll find), spectral psych grooves.

Weyes Blood - Mirror Forever Great opening line, there’s a coldness but also strangely comforting.

Foxygen - News Now a lot people had fallen off the Foxygen wagon recently, including me, but this is catchy melody filled vibes, with a completely unexpected stonking T-Rex style groove that kicks in around the 3:30 minute mark

MAY

Lizzo – Juice Speaking of good vibes… I mean, again, just go watch the Glastonbury set: https://youtu.be/R9CTs1NsZRI.

Tyler, The Creator - EARFQUAKE Production values: A*, chances of not leaving… C-

The 100 Knights Orchestra - Soul Fugue Celebrating Daptone Records 100th RPM single, this special features every horn player the label has ever worked with, and it is glorious.

Death and Vanilla - A Flaw In The Iris Devendra Banhart vibes to begin, fazing in Mazzy Star style reverb and guitars.

Desert Sands - Are You There The best psychedelic space rock released… ever! 

JUNE

Rose City Band - Fog of Love Warm tones and laid back ambles, which has producer Ripley Johnson’s stamp all over it.

Madonnatron - Goodnight Little Empire Disco ditty extraordinaire.

The Black Keys - Lo/Hi Have you heard of ZZ Top? You have?

The Amazons - Doubt It Future rock heroes get dark.

Fat White Family, Parrot and Cocker Too - Feet - Parrot and Cocker Too Remix Gone for the remix version of this great track: what isn’t improved by added shakers and throbbing techno?

JULY

Michael Kiwanuka, Tom Misch - Money (with Tom Misch) The first of two Kiwanuka tracks in this list, but this was a standalone single, and has all the bubbly bass groove it was impossible not to include.

Drake, Rick Ross - Money In The Grave (Drake ft. Rock Ross) Speaking of money… bounce!

DOPE LEMON - Salt & Pepper Weird keys give way to J.J. Cale style guitar noodles, whilst Angus heaps on the druggy references adding to the meandering stoned atmosphere.

The Quiet Temple, Moon Duo - The Last Opium Den On Earth (Moon Duo Remix) Speaking of druggy… 12 minutes of acid psych jazz in the last opium den on earth.

Nev Cottee - Hello Stranger Cinematic and pastoral, but also searing

AUGUST

Palace - Running Wild Top class indie pop nugget with great simple guitar solo to end.

Kandodo 3 - Everything Green's Gone This definitely isn’t for everyone: think Nine Inch Nails soundtracks at their most impenetrable, if you can make it two thirds of the way through this 13 minute wig out, there are some great slide guitars.

Clairo – Bags Breakout bedroom pop with one of the hookiest melodies all year.

Mini Mansions - Works Every Time Behind the beat smooth grooves.

Death Hawks - Whisper Squelchy over produced 80s style pop bananas,

SEPTEMBER

Native Harrow - Can't Go On Like This Inevitable Laurel Canyon / Joni Mitchell comparisons on this retro analogue sound ballad.

Ty Segall - The Arms Ty does a rare acoustic number, and even throws in a rather tasteful mandolin line.

Pixx - Funsize Synth bleeps and beats disguise a Radiohead-esque creeping guitar line.

Sleater-Kinney - The Future Is Here Love the motorik dirge vibes here, underpin lovely vocal lines and melodies which remind us: the future is here, and we can’t go back.

Marika Hackman - i'm not where you are Great pop hooks and guitar lines.

OCTOBER

Dylan LeBlanc - Renegade I’m a big fan of LeBlanc and his retro stylings, and this track is super lilting 80s driving rock.

TOOL - Pneuma I struggled to get TOOL for a while, but this record and this track in particular is fucking phenomenal.

Lightning Dust - Devoted To Amber Webber and Joshua Wells’ solo project (previously of Black Mountain), conjure spectral dreamscapes.

Sturgill Simpson - Remember To Breathe Sturgill goes electronic rawk – and Tomoyasu Hotei wants his production back.

Michael Kiwanuka - Hero Here he is again, with the standout track from a truly brilliant album.

NOVEMBER

Kelsey Waldon - White Noise, White Lines Kentucky country groove rock.

WIVES - Waving Past Nirvana Churning fuzz rock underpins laconic loose vocals, cool.

Pumarosa - I See You Tense synth verses give way to soaring superb choruses.

Jaako Eine Kalevi - Dissolution Finnish synth pop architect doing a very good Matthew Dear impersonation. 

Warmduscher - Midnight Dipper “The offspring of a match made in hell between Fat White Family and Paranoid London” – full-on sleazy glam.

DECEMBER

Pond - Don't Look at the Sun (Or You'll Go Blind) – Live My favourite track the band perform live, now finally available on streaming.

Staff Benda Bilili - Jamais de la vie The famous Congolese street band return with tight uplifting grooves.

Khruangbin, Leon Bridges - Texas Sun Sit back, open a cold one, and enjoy (when summer comes back around).

Jimmy "Duck" Holmes - Catfish Blues Mississippi delta blues from the 72 year old Holmes, produced by Dan Auerbach.

Mikal Cronin - Show Me Long-time Ty Segall collaborator serves up some Tom Petty-esque soft rock.

#new music #best of 2019 #2019 music #psych rock #alternative music #rock music #best rock #top music #shoegaze #2019 #j.s. ondara #mikal cronin #leon bridges #fat white family #jimmy duck holmes #khruangbin #warmduscher #wives #kelsey waldon #staff benda bililli #sturgill simpson #michael kiwanuka #kiwanuka #pumarosa #jaako eine kalevi #delicate steve #sharon van etten #lizzo #native harrow #pixx

[thewritewolf]

Rekindle Chapter 10: Victorian AU

Adrien talks with his father and Marinette dreams of heroic duos long past. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30  31

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“...And on the fourteenth, you have been scheduled for your penultimate winter shoot of the season, the final being for the middle of January. Do you understand so far?”

“Yes, father,” Adrien lifelessly replied, making another note in his schedule book.

The photoshoot didn’t really matter to him - all he cared about was that it was another day that he wouldn’t be able to meet with Marinette. A glance at all the other dates in December reminded him that his father was certainly keeping him busy this month. That wasn’t anything new; father liked to stay busy during the holidays and now that Adrien was technically an adult, he made sure that Adrien stayed busy too. Whether he wanted to be or not.

“...Which brings us to the New Year’s Party that the Mayor is throwing. You will, of course, be attending. We have already selected your date for the evening.”

That brought Adrien out of the stupor he often fell into while talking with his father. “Excuse me?”

Gabriel sighed. “Not paying attention again? I said that you will be attending the New Year’s Party and with a girl of my choosing. What is there not to understand?”

Plenty. He’d let his father dictate a lot of his life but if there was anything that was Adrien’s alone, it was his choice of date. Even if it was just for one party, which Adrien severely doubted. His father had already dropped hints for the last few years that it would be good for the brand if Adrien had a public relationship with another model. Purely as a PR stunt, of course.

“I’m sorry, father, but I will not be attending. I have prior plans.” 

Likely sensing trouble, Plagg appeared from his vacation home and watched his chosen carefully. His ears twitched as he no doubt tried to listen in on Gabriel’s side.

“That’s absurd,” his father replied, “I have heard of no such plans. You simply don’t want to go to this party, but that is irrelevant. What matters is that this gathering will help improve our standing.”

“All due respect, father, but I don’t need to tell you about every single plan I make, especially when it is over two weeks away.” Adrien did his best to ignore the stab of pain in his heart from his father’s disbelief, and the surging tide of panic he felt at defying him. Plagg was doing his best to silently goad him on, and he wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or angry at him for it.

“If this plan is real, then tell me exactly where it is you plan on going. This lowbrow party that is so much more important than your duties to your family and our company.”

“First, it won’t be lowbrow. Second, I learned my lesson the last couple times I told you about my plans and suddenly those plans got cancelled or I got mysteriously uninvited.” Maybe the snide tone was pushing it. His father certainly didn’t appreciate it. “I’m twenty three years old, father. I can make my own decisions.”

“I don’t care how old you are, you are my son and the face of this company!”

Adrien winced at his father abruptly shouting at him. That normally wasn’t his style, but maybe the reminder of his age reminded him of another big anniversary coming up soon. Even after all these years, he hadn’t managed to move on. With that in mind, he did his best to stifle his emotions as his father let loose with all his pent up anger and frustration. After a few minutes, his father had to stop for breath and Adrien deliberately misinterpreted that as him ending the conversation.

“If that is all, father, then I have things that I need to attend to. Goodbye.”

“Now you wait just a-” Click.

As if hanging up on his father expended all the anger that he had built up, Adrien simply let the phone fall from his limp fingers onto the couch. He wasn’t sure how long he spent staring at the floor, but it didn’t matter. Soon enough his vision became blurry and the tears began to come in full force.

Plagg didn’t have anything to say, no ancient wisdom, or platitudes about cheese, nothing. Instead, he just curled up against Adrien’s neck and did his best to comfort him with his presence.

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

It was late. Much too late. The clocks had already chimed the hour and he had promised her that he would arrive no later.

She was just about to call on Tikki when there was a knock at her balcony window. At three stories up, at midnight, there could only be one person out there. Raising the edge of her dress, she rushed to the balcony doors and threw them open, relief flooding her when she saw his easy grin shining back at her.

“Bit of an odd day to see you in all yer fineries, m’lady,” the ruffian bowed his head to her from his position sitting on the railing of her balcony. His attire was the same as it always was when he used his powers - all black, from his greatcoat down to his stiff pants and boots. The only color was the gold trim on his ornate mask, and a flower in his top hat.

“As much as I would love it, I cannot be in my sleuthing uniform at all times, Tom.” She shook her head. “What do you have for me?”

“Not so quick, my sweet lady. I have a fee for my information, if you recall. I risked much for this knowledge and the Black Tom does nothing for free.” He leaned forward until their faces were barely a finger’s breadth apart.

Rolling his eyes at his antics, she moved quickly to grab the hair on the back of his head and step forward, crashing her lips against his. His ‘fee’ wasn’t much of one, given their ongoing secret relationship, but he so loved his dramatics. She didn’t have the heart to deprive him of so simple a joy, and if it kept him happy, then so be it. After a few heartbeats of indecency, she pulled away, resting her forehead against his as they both got their breath back.

“I always pay a fair price. Now give me the clues I need, Tom, or that will be the last payment you ever receive from me.”

She could hear him gulp as he followed her into her room. A button pressed and a secret door opened to her base of operations in the fight against the evils that lurked within London.

“It’s about as bad as Mister Fu claimed,” Tom stood on the opposite side of her table where she had placed a map of the city. A great web of annotations cluttered the space and only made sense to her eyes. “Occultists are up to something. My contacts on the streets couldn’t tell me much besides that, but something big is about to happen.”

“I’ll pass word along to Fu. Maybe he can find out more.”

“I hope your trust in this mysterious man is worth it. Not right, all this mucking about with spirits and such, but at least we got one of them on our side. Evens the odds a little.”

“That’s the hope. What about the opium den?”

Tom paled. “Well, good news is we won’t have to worry about them anymore. Some kinda monster got in their hideout.” A shiver went through him. “When you said we’d be cleaning up crime, I didn’t think it’d be with a mop and bucket, sweet bird.”

She tapped at her chin in thought. “Maybe the monster didn’t get into their hideout…” Tom raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, knowing full well how she worked. “Maybe the monster escaped the hideout.”

“What? You don’t think…?”

“This is just conjecture at the moment. I’ll be stopping by the scene of the crime tomorrow evening and seeing what the boys from Scotland Yard have missed.”

Tom stepped over to her to take her hand in his. “Be careful out there, my lady. Rough times are coming, I’m sure of it.”

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

As close as they were to the middle of winter, it was no surprise that the sun wasn’t out yet. Even if Marinette was woken up early by another strange dream. One good thing she could say about these… dreams? Memories? Flashbacks? One of the good things she could say about them was that they at least left her fully awake.

While she fumbled for her phone, Marinette whispered into the darkness, “Tikki? Tikki, are you awake?”

Somewhere beside her head, she heard her kwami’s reply, “I’m here. Is something the matter? Did you have another dream?”

She finally found her phone. Seven in the morning, one new message. Funneling that information aside for now, she answered Tikki, “Yes. This one felt much more vivid than the last. This time, I could feel what she was feeling as if I were there.” Marinette gave herself a moment to really think about what she remembered in the dream. “...What did the Black Tom and his Ladybug face? It didn’t sound like they were fighting akuma.”

There was a long pause. “The Lady in Red. That was her name.”

“Huh?”

“That was her name - the Ladybug of that time was called the Lady in Red. She was a detective.”

“Oh. She seemed… good at what she did.” Marinette wasn’t sure how to proceed. Tikki almost never talked about past Ladybugs and when she did it was always very vague. This was the first time she had ever named one of Marinette’s predecessors.

“She was amazing! I just know you two would’ve gotten along like best friends.”

Marinette finally found the lamp switch and saw Tikki sitting on the pillow beside her, staring wistfully into the distance. It was easy to forget how old her cookie-loving best friend was - how many Ladybugs she had guided. Would she talk about Marinette in the same way?

Pushing those thoughts out of the way before existential dread could set in, Marinette asked again, “What did the Black Tom and the Lady in Red fight?”

“Master Fu chose them because of magical threats that were on the rise in London. The empire of the day had gathered a lot of mystical artifacts and tinkered with them, leading to… bad things happening.” Tikki finally turned back to Marinette and gave a half smile. “But don’t worry! Magic has faded so much from the world that the only artifacts really left are the Miraculous.”

“Considering at least one of those is in the hands of a supervillain, that doesn’t really comfort me a lot.” Marinette threw her legs over the side of her bed and Tikki floated up onto her shoulder. “Let’s get started with the day.”

A short while later, Marinette was making breakfast when she finally remembered to check her new message, which happened to be from Chat Noir.

Chat Noir: Sorry I cant meet up anytime soon :( But! I’m going to a New Year’s Eve masquerade party. Want to meet up with me there? I’ll be in a Zorro outfit with a green sash.

It took a moment for Marinette to process that she would be meeting up with Chat Noir outside the masks - at least, outside the magical masks. Would she recognize him? Did the magic block work while they were in their civilian forms? Although she had given some thought to trying to go to the workplace party again, this invitation was too good to pass up. There were still two weeks, which would be plenty of time to make a dress for the masquerade.

If she just so happened to include a lot of red and maybe have a Ladybug mask, then who could blame her? Maybe her kitty could use a hint or two.

#MarichatMay2019 #Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Gabriel Agreste #Tikki #ml fanfiction #my writing #Rekindle