#everyone is gonna fly out to China soon

[imoosgnaj]

[CHINESE NEW YEAR SPECIAL] Celebrate Chinese New Year with SKZ 🎆

genre: fluff (some funny scenes)

a/n: I started writing this back in January lmao. The whole ff is written in first person point of view. Anyway Happy Chinese New Year!

warning: none? however, there are members from Aespa, NCT and Seventeen appearing in this fanfic

A few days before New Year, your team members heared you and Chenle's conversation, and they used their phone to translate live--

Chenle: "Can you go home for New Year?"

You: "WAIT YOU CAN GO HOME??? Bro this is so not fait! Ugh, it's been so long time..."

Chenle: "Then how are you gonna celebrate it? You wanna come and have dinner with the Chinese line?"

You: "I'd love to but, I still gonna record Kingdom that day, and it'll be too late for food when I'm done."

Chenle: "Okay superstar, in that case I will just go have fun with the Ningning The 8 and Jun, but I will send you picture so don't worry!"

You: "Ugh ok, bye"

Chan opened his phone to check the calender: "Yea, it's Chinese New Year soon."

"Kingdom starts that day," Says Lee Know, "We sure don't know when we will be back."

"But this holiday must be very important for her!" Hyunjin searched it up, "It's the biggest holiday in China, look!"

"Clench your fist, get up early and sleep late, I mean, it's for her right?" Changbin says to everyone.

Everyone agreed, so now they are doing the 'missions' again.

"New Year requires..." Because Chinese has different traditions than Korean, Chan needs to search it up and read them one by one: "Eat dumplings, spring couplets, fireworks, red envelopes..."

"Red envelopes?" Felix scratcher his head, "What are those?"

Felix immediately took out his phone: "Let me ask Chenle."

Chenle picked up his phone after one second.

Chenle: "What's up Yongbogi?"

Felix: "Heyyyyy, long time no see buddy! So since Soomi can't celebrate New Year with yall, we are worried that she will feel sad, and we wanna celebrate it with her! But we don't know that much about the traditions, can you explain them?"

Chenle: "Ah of course! I promise I won't tell Soomi. Let me tell you..."

About the traditions, uh yes, it went on for at least one hour.

After this one hour, you were told about the plans (by Chenle of course)

"Everyone's so good to you," Chenle is just chatting with you, but he doesn't know that you are so touched that you have tears in your eyes.

"Yea," You sneezed, "But why you told me early! I'm worried that I can't take it by then."

"Hey don't tell them about this!"

"Fine!" You ended the call.

Busy days always fly past, it's New Year's Eve in a blink. Because you were busy rehearsing for the stage the day before, you barely had any rest, you are so tired after the shooting today and even forgot how special today is! You started sleeping once you got on car.

"Are the red envelopes ready?" Chan talked quietly on the car.

"Yes they are!" Lee Know took out an envelope with 'luck' on it from his pocket.

"What about the spring couplets?" Chan nods, and then kept on checking.

"I wrote together with Seungminnie, I asked Yao Chen to check it, it's on the table." Felix tapped Chan's shoulder and told him no worries.

"Dumplings?"

"Yea I made them together with Jeogin and Changbin hyung," Hyunjin went on, "and fish too."

"Okay!" Chan pretended to clap, "The fireworks are also ready, Minho should also be checking on the other car, we just need to make sure to being Soomi up the building later, don't wake her up."

The cars soon arrived at the dorm. You had absolutely no idea because you were sleeping so well. Chan picked you up carefully, Felix protected your head, moved you out the car and successfully carried you back to dorm.

It's even harder to let the kids quiet down when cooking than sscend to heaven. Lee Know clenched his fist because Hyunjin accidently hit a bowl and it fell on the floor; Jeogin needed to watch Jisung's mouth just in case he randomly started singing; about Changbin, Chan taped his mouth because his mouth is literally a weapon.

You got woken up by the great smell of food. The air is filled with sweet smells, the type of sweet smell that are rare in Korean foods.

You rubbed your sleepy eyes, opened your bedroom door and walked out. Although you already knew that they are going to give you a surprise, but when seeing all the Chinese food on the table, you were still shocked. I mean, who doesn't love food right?"

Chan, who just put the last dish on the table, saw you coming out and said to you: "Heyyyy, I was just about to let Felix call you! Come sit down!"

Before Chan finished, Felix and Han already grabbed your hands and took you to your seat.

'It must be the water vapor...' You thought, teary in your eyes.

"Ahw why are you crying?" Lee Know denied your thoughts, took a napkin and wiped your tears.

"I......" You still wanted to argue, but started crying once you opened your mouth: "You guys are so nice, I'm so touched..."

The other members took their seats soon after, Lee Know patted your head: "You know why we are so nice to you? Because we think you are so nice to us too!"

Changbin counldn't help it, he ate a dumping first and it was so hot he grinned. "YES SOOMI, you are so good to us you know? C'mon, the food will get cold if you don't eat them now."

Seungmin, who sat next to you, put some vegetables in your bowl and handed you a pair of chopsticks: "Try them! We learned one dish each."

You still couldn't help but sob. You picked up a piece of fish and was about to eat, but you were blocked by Seungmin: "No, sobbing and eating at the same time will make you choke." He said, his other hand patted your back gently.

After seeing you moving your chopticks, Changbin started calling everyone and began to eat: "Eat quick! We have bigger surprises waiting for you!" You smiled when watching him like this.

After pouring drinks, Chan raised his cup: "In the past year, we all did great, especiall our maknae! As the only girl in our team, she has taken off a lot of pressure. In the next year we will also be moving forward, and get better and better."

"CHEERS!" Everyone shouted, your happy faces are reflected on the cups.

"Following the Chinese traditions, we put 3 coins in the dumplings! Now eat" Lee Know handed you some dumplings.

You took a bit: "Hey I got it!" You spited out the coin, "Not every dumplings have a coin right?"

"How's that possible?" Even with that being said, Jeogin still thought it's magical, "Our maknae will become rich next year hehe."

However, Lee Know and Chan are acting calm: because the first dumpling you ate was marked by us.

It's just a little trick used by the oldest members, but it can truly bring you happiness. This is surely the best meal you've had ever since you came to South Korea.

Tag: @mynameisnotlaura @hyunmikim

#kpop #stray kids #bang chan #fanfic #lee felix #lee know #changbin #han jisung #han #hyunjin #felix #seungmin #skz 9th member #jeongin #i.n skz #i.n #i.n stray kids #skz #racha log #stray kids 9th member #9th member #9th member of skz #9th member of stray kids #stray kids added member #kpop added member #stray kids addition #addition #kpop addition #skz ot8 #ot8 x reader

[ashlayan]

In memory of the victims

Tw: SFW, can be read as gender neutral tho written with a fem reader in mind, fluff, slight angst at the end, implied abuse (not by the wanderer or the reader).

Pairing: Wanderer x Reader

!In relation to the Genshin community incident in China!

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

"I'm boooored" you whine, probably for the hundredth time now, as you continue lying on the sofa, one foot dangling over the side, kicking the air.

Nahida and the Traveler were off doing something about fungi and a dragon..? (They didn't really explain.) And left you and the Wanderer to hold fort in the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

The wanderer sighs, and scowls back at you from his spot on the desk, still writing whatever Vahumana essay he was working on this time. But instead of another annoyed response, he decides to simply turn around and ignore you completely.

You gasp internally. He's ignoring me now?! Oh no no no!

Pushing yourself up and walking towards him you say "Hey! That was rude!" You pout.

No response. You get to his side and stare at him, yet he doesn't even bat an eye in your direction. You lean even closer and poke his cheek, "Is my cute Scarameow being fussy again?" You ask cheekily. This time, the response is immediate. He drops his pen and turns around to properly glare at you. "I told you not to call me that." He says scowling. You don't answer, simply preserve eye contact and give him your bestest pout.

By the thirty seconds mark, he breaks; "Ugh fine, quit the stupid puppy dog eyes they don't even look cute." He says, like a liar.

You keep going, "Oh no I made Scarameow angwy," he gives you his flattest stare, "I know how to make it up to you! Should I get my cutie patootie some fishies?" You poke at his cheek some more.

He rolls his eyes "You just want to feed me fish because I look like a cat to you." You look like a kitty to everyone pookie you think but you don't say it, instead you answer "Did I mention I would cook it myself for you?"

Suddenly, his books were closed, papers back in their respective folders and he himself was dragging you towards the exit to the Sanctuary of Surasthana. "Let's hurry," he says, "you need fresh fish right? We can get some from the Grand Bazaar."

You giggle as you notice his ears had taken a purple hue "Slow down! The fishies aren't gonna swim away!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking back from the Bazaar hand in hand, you consider the steps to creating your grilled fish dish when suddenly, you hear a little meow.

...Your head immediately whips towards the Wanderer's direction.

He doesn't even bother looking back at you and simply says "You remember I'm not actually a cat right?"

"Ah- y-yeah." You look away sheepishly. He sighs but doesn't seem all that surprised or bothered.

The two of you continue on your way home, then get started on the cooking as soon as you get there. He takes over the salad and rice saying something about yours never coming out "just right", but you knew that was nonsense, he just wanted to help.

Just as you're done cleaning the raw fishes and about to start grilling them, you hear the same meow sound from before. You and Wanderer halt and share a look.

"Do you think the poor thing followed us from outside and got stuck in here?" You say, already placing the fishes inside the cryo box for now.

"Let's search for it." Wanderer says, moving out of the kitchen area as you followed after him.

The two of you split up, looking through the entire sanctuary trying to find the little fur ball to no avail. You even decide to check the outside area but still find nothing.

You were starting to get really worried. "We looked everywhere... are there secret passages we don't know about?"

Wherever this kitty was stuck was so well hidden that if you didn't find it in the daylight you doubted you could at night.

Wanderer thought for a moment "There's still one place we haven't checked." He looked up, "I'll fly up to the roof and take a good look around, I could also check the tree branches in the surrounding area..." He glanced at you "I could carry you up with me-" You quickly interrupt him "We both know I'd just slow you down," you waved him off " you go, I'll just uhh... Go back down the stairs and check carefully again." You doubted you'd find anything down there, but you knew Wanderer only offered to take you up with him as a kind gesture, you wouldn't be much help up there without the ability to fly freely.

He nodded, seemingly understanding you wordlessly, and with nothing more to say, flew directly up.

You started descending the outer stairs of the sanctuary and, sure enough, there was no more mewling to hear. You'd made it all the way down when you spotted an older lady feeding some birds at the base of the Divine Tree.

"Hello ma'am," you call out politely. It was a long shot but it wasn't like you had anything better to do while you waited, so you approach her. "Have you seen any cats running around here by any chance? Maybe following anyone going up The Divine tree?"

"Oh dear have you lost your pet young one?" The old lady asked worriedly "No I'm afraid I haven't seen anything like that... And trust me I would notice," she motioned towards the pigeons she was feeding, "all of these little fellas would have scattered quickly enough if any cat came milling about."

"Oh, I see." You said. Now you should go back up and see if Wanderer found anything, hopefully the kind old lady doesn't start telling you a story or anything of the sort because you really should get goi- "Actually, " the old lady says solemnly, interrupting your thoughts, "that does remind me of a sad little tale I heard from the locals."

Great.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You find Wanderer where you last saw him, near the entrance of the Sanctuary of Surasthana, waiting for you.

As you approach, he tells you he found nothing, that he'd tried again and again to follow the source of the mewling, but the area was clear. "I could look for Nahida," he suggested "maybe you're right and there really are some secret passage ways, she could tell us how to access them." He belatedly notices the paper bag you were carrying.

You sigh. You don't know how much longer you can hold in the excess emotions but you do your best. Now is not the time. "Don't bother..." You say very quietly, almost whispering. "I... I figured out what's going on." You say, thinking back to the old lady's words.

You start walking back towards the sanctuary, not checking to see if he follows you. He does anyway. "Oh? Well spill it out then."

You stay silent, resolutely walking forward without looking at him.

"The suspense is killing me." He dead pans.

When you don't bother bickering back, he starts getting actually worried. "Hey... Are you ok? Did I miss something?"

You push open the sanctuary's door, still not looking at him and say: "Help me prepare the fish... I need some time to process something."

He freezes in place, eyes wide "Did- did I do something wrong- did I-" You hug him tight, with a shaky breath. "Listen to me. You did nothing wrong. Not this time." That seems to calm him enough, and he pulls back a little, staring at your face. You don't know what expression you're making right now, but he seems to steel himself and say "... Let's prepare the fish then."

The two of you work fast in a tense silence. After plating both of your meals and saving two plates for Nahida and the Traveler, you get started on your new main task.

You slice some thick pieces of fish and arrange them into a small plate. You then pour some fresh milk into a small bowl and hand both to Wanderer who looks quite lost but is following your lead without question.

You grab the brown paper bag and empty it, revealing a small gardening shovel and a wooden plank on which you quickly scribble something, then you lead him out of the sanctuary, towards a secluded spot in the courtyard and immediately get to work.

He watches as you dig with the small gardening tool, securing the wooden plank in a tight horizontal hole, and sees what was written on it's surface...

Once you're done, without prompting, Wanderer places the small offerings in front of the makeshift grave titled "Here lies the spirit of a victim, may it find peace" It's all symbolism really, but you're hoping it helps.

"...So are you going to explain what we're-"

You hold his hand and squeeze " Shh, listen."

He does, he listens intently but hear's nothing. The sanctuary's small courtyard is quiet now.

"...it stopped. It was never really here though was it." It doesn't sound like a question.

You finally release your hold on your feelings, your eyes tearing up, your body shuddering slightly, and you squeeze Wanderer's hand some more. The two of you stand there, hand in hand, staring at the grave.

"It was before Nahida took back her rightful place." You croak out. "The mahamatra never found him, they just had a few vague witness descriptions of a guy coming around these parts and grabbing the stray cats... He seemed suspicious enough that someone even tried to chase him down once." It's like your feelings gain momentum, your crying turns into sobbing, your shaking gradually intensifies. You feel his hand release yours only for his arms to wrap around your shoulders, you look away from the grave and hide your face in his neck.

You completely miss his murderous expression.

It was obviously not directed at you, and while he was still looking at the little grave, it wasn't directed at the poor dead thing either.

He was not going to let this go. He was going to find the person responsible and. They. Would. Pay.

That he swore.

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

A/N: Some ... People in the genshin cn community, apparently felt so "disrespected" by a fictional character that they deemed "too rude", so they decided to dox and stalk Mihoyo employees, create forums to bash on Scaramouche/Wanderer and his writers and designers, bullied his fans, tried to pressure Mihoyo into deleting him from the game, sent his design images to some chinese authority figures as if he were a "threat to the nation", and, the cherry on top of this disgusting cake, unalived their own cats because they looked like scarameow.

Please share this information, it's what we can do to help our sisters and brothers who have to live in the same country as these freaks.

#wanderer x reader #wanderer genshin #wanderer genshin impact #Scaramouche #scarameow #cat genshin #genshin impact #gi #fluff #scara x reader #scara #wanderer #x reader #x you #you #reader #(Y/N) #(y/n) #y/n #genshin impact community #ghost stories #implied ghost

[lillaxtrigger]

Street Smarts: Chapter 17

The normal urban atmosphere that wafts throughout the big apple is swelled by the wondrous scents of exotic foods and spices that cut through the grimy city air like a finely sharpened blade; the blend of aroma’s proving a welcoming first impression for anyone visiting China town. The foreign market held in the midst of this small portion of this city is as busy and bustling as ever, with countless people from within and outside New York touring through the many booths and stands that make its marketplace; the swarm of customers drawn to these fascinating food and ingredients the sellers of these booths advertise with pride.

Somewhere nearby within the residential area of this humble foreign settlement, a door from one of its many homes exudes a bright red aura; one of which envelopes its finely carved wood from top to bottom. Few of those passing by heed some mind when out from this door do Wedsle, Frida, and Thursotte emerge out from the other side, exiting out from the inside of the safe house behind them; neighbors perplexed of how these three can exit go casually out from a home that was not there’s and approach as the psychic three stroll away. Yet before any of them could come close to investigate the inside, the door the crew came out from suddenly slams shut; leaving a few of them too spooked to approach. One of them however, was still persists investigating as they take hold of the door’s handle before opening it back up. Everyone near is left perplexed when gazing to what lies behind the doorway, failing to find the scene that the trio walked out from and instead see the bland inside of a normal home.

In the purple psychic’s finger spins a key engraved with bronze carvings held against the head, its design unmistakable from any other; the dimensional psychic nervously watching as the Wedsle causally flips this key around in each of his fingers before warning how: “Will you quit dicking around with the key and just put it in your damn pocket already.” “Frids, relax, this bronze baby here’s in good hands. You going on actin like I got a pieces of priceless diamond right here.” Wedsle jests. “To us, it might as well be. That little piece of bronze you got whirling around your fingers is our only ticket back in the safe house.” “Yeah, Wedsle. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more careful with our only way back.” Thursotte reinforces. “Man, you two really think I’m some sort of careless jackass, don’t you? Listen, long as my hair is as purple as my pubic areas; I swear that this key ain’t gonna slip my-” Yet in the midst of swearing this, the key wind up twirling right off the tip his finger and fly across the street; all of the jerking their sites towards where the piece of bronze careens. “Shit.”

The trio make a frantic mad dash to their one way ticket back to their safehouse as it clangs across the streets of Chinatown; some of the locals nearby watching amused as they desperately race after the piece of bronze. Both Thurs and Weds blood runs cold when watching the key bounce towards the storm drain and fall straight through the metal grate; the purple psychic shouting out: “No! Fuck! Why!” “What do you mean why!? You were spinning it on your finger! Of course this happened!” Thurs exclaims, clutching the violet psychic’s shirt collar. Their overall panic soon deflates when looking back towards the storm drain and finding the 2nd dimensional arm of their other partner slipping out from the grate, turning her hand back to normal to open her palm and show the piece of carved bronze in her hand. “Oh...right...”

After Frida finishes fishing the precious key back into their hands, the purple mobster compliments her as she comes back with: “Nice save, Frids. Now just hand that little trinket over and I’ll stuff it where the sun don’t shine. Of course I mean down in my-” “No.” the dimensional psychic denies. “What, with it being made of Julian’s power; It ain’t like you got anywhere to put it.” “That’s why I’m counting on Thurs’ hands to keep a grip on it rather than risk it being in your slippery twig fingers.” she explains, putting the key in the young man’s grasp. “Come on, Frida. All these years we’ve worked together, you feel more comfy having him hold onto it than me?” “It’s the fact that I’ve know you for that long is why I’m more confident handing the key to Thurs. He’s proven to be more careful in the short time I’ve known him than you have in the years I’ve been with you.” “Ouch, really twisting the knife there.”

“I ain’t too sure of that, Frida. I mean with my set of psychic powers in particular, you think that-” Thursotte then attempt to bring up. “I’m sure you got this. Just keep it in your pocket and it’ll be alright.” “Hmm...if that’s all I need to do…But how come Sat couldn’t come along? She probably would have been the better pick for this.” “Thought she told you about staying with the new meat to help hone his powers. Guy like that ain’t gonna be much use to us if he don’t know how to pull his own weight.”

Within a room of the safe house, clear of all its furnishings and decorations, the lively psychic paces back and forth before the patiently sitting in front of the former officer; washed and scrubbed clean of stains with fresh clean clothes and a haircut to boot. “So...there really anything else I need to know; I mean beside the bare basics.” Tuesco wonders. “I mean of course there is. It-it’s just I’m not really sure how to go about it is all.” claims Sat. “What do you mean?” “I’m saying that I’m not sure if going over general tips or pointers is the best way to go here.” “That’s it? No kind of intense training with you on my back, Swamps of Dagobah style?” “Well, you can probably guess by now that every psychic power from person to person is wholly unique, so there’s only so much I can do for you before you have to figure out the rest on your own. But, since I was in your position only around several months ago, I thought going through a couple of tricks that helped me out would work with you.” “Great…” he sigh with a hint of sarcasm.

“Right, so…” Satette begins with, pulling out a rose from her dress pocket. “Now that you know what aspect of this world you have under your command, the next step is figuring out how much you can do with it; that typically comes with three factors. Quantity, will, and creativity. Most psychic’s that control physical aspects need to have their element in arms reach to effectively wield it; which shouldn’t be much of a problem for you considering you can solidify air, and air is...pretty much fucking everywhere.” From this does Tuesco take in a deep breath of the air around them before going: “Of course.” “Willpower on the other hand is more of a matter of practice than anything. Calling it simply that might not be it. I think mental fortitude and focus are more accurate in this case. Ideally, you have to get in the mindset of your power being a natural part of you, like getting in the habit of breathing...or I guess using a part of your brain would be more appropriate here.” Sat explains, Tuesco rubbing the back of his head. “Okay, like...think of it like a muscle under your control; the more you work it, the better it’ll be.”

“And creativity?” Tuesco continues with. “That is honestly the most important step. While the limits of how much air you have under your control can widely vary; it is always critical not to think how much of it you can use, but what you can do with how much you got. Like this rose in my hand here.” the lively psychic instructs, presenting the ruby red rose in her hand. “As it stands now, this simple flower is almost next to harmless; really the only thing worth of note being its thorns set along its neck. Not really the best sort of tool one could use. But with a little bit psychic finesse...”

Within the young woman’s grasp, a natural green glow begins to encompass the unassuming flower; Satette’s aura enveloping the piece of flora as it begins to reform its very biological structure. Among its transformation does the neck of the rose stretch out across the young woman’s hands and ravels around her knuckles; the thorn held through the stem facing out from the front of her hand. When the lively psychic dismisses her aura out from the plant, its glow fades away to unveil what she had transformed the rose into; Tuesco left surprised to see the roses stem wrapped around her knuckles as she presents it with: “Boom! Thorn rose knuckles, perfect for leaving behind gashes against whoever wants to mess with you. Or…” Spreading her power through the rose again, Satette commands it to unravel from her hand and instead reform in her grasp; its stem straightening to a tip point as its thorns against lines its neck. “A lacerating dagger; case you want to really dig in whoever you wanna stab with a hearty twist.” she explains twirling the freshly made dagger about. “Uh...ok-okay.” the former officer utters, left mildly disturbed over the young woman’s graphic example. “Or if you wanna leave all of this as a nasty surprise…” Once more does Sat trail her power across the rose forged dagger and starts to remold its very structure to wrap around the wrist; her green power dispelling to reveal the rose having enveloped her arm as the bud of the flower blooms across the back of her hand. “Keep it disguised as a fashionable bracelet, ready to draw the blood of your foes at a moments notice.” “Right...But how is showing all that supposed to help me?” Tuesco then asks. “Well, considering what all you did back in the complex I found you in, and what Wedsle told me about; it sounds like your having trouble trying to construct more complex geometric shapes. So that might be the best place to start with you.”

A quiet grumble seeps out from underneath the man’s breath as the young woman instructing her sits down to tell him: “So remember when I said how you need to focus on what you want the air to be. Lets try making a cylinder around you with that method.” Upon his teachers request, the former officer stands off the floor before he stretches his arms out from both sides; Tuesco’s cerulean blue power seeping out from the palms of his hands as it expands around him. But the further he stretches his aura out to try and surround him and make a cylinder, the more this task strains him; Satette left worried as the man before him show signs of distress and pain. Tuesco can’t even manage to his aura together before it suddenly evaporates, the man himself letting out a pained hiss as he grasps the side of his temple while seething: “Agh! Dammit, my head!” “Oh jeez. I guess your brain ain’t really use to doing something that complex yet. How bout we try something a more small. Maybe like...a cup.” “Ngh...O-okay.” the man sighs, taking his hands off his head to hold one of them out.

Holding the palm of his hand up, the former cop begins to again focus in using his aura to create the very shape Satette wants out from him; his cerulean blue power seeping out and swirling from his palm. Tuesco lets out a small grunt as he concentrates on making his power trap the air into the form he desires, focusing on directing the aura to slowly form into a cup. And after a moment of concentrating his power does his aura finally form into the shape he wishes and commands it to vacuum up and solidify the air within; the former cops blue glow dissipating as he finally forms a cup made from solid air in his hands. Yet when the strenuous process had been said and done, the cup that Tuesco had transformed the very air into was left about as small as a shot glass; a disappointing feet of which starts to get him down.

“Uh...Well I mean, its a start.” Sat attempts to compliment. “I guess so.” groans Tuesco. “Hey, don’t feel too down about it. I had trouble doing bigger stuff when I first started out too. All it takes is some practice and some exercise.” “Like crunches or something?” “What I mean is think of these powers like an added muscle in your body, make sure to treat it well and practice so you can keep that muscle in tip top shape.” “Well, if it really is that simple, then this’d be considered for a toast, don’t you.” the former officer claims, handing the freshly made shot glass of solid air to the young woman. The former officer then takes out a stainless steel flask he pulls out from inside his jacket, unscrewing the cap to pour some liquor in the air made shot glass; the alcohol pour within seemingly floating right above Sats hand as its washes around in the tiny cup.

“What’s the occasion?” she wonder. “I just haven’t thanked you yet for doing all this for me, and I’ve been dong nothing but complain so far. Hoping this’ll at least make up for that. You think so?” After taking a brief moment to stare to her own reflection held in the liquor floating in the invisible cup, the lively psychic shrugs her shoulders and goes: “Eh, why not? 5 p.m somewhere, right?” In one fell swoop, the young woman gulps down the shot of alcohol the same time Tuesco takes a swig out from his flask; the liquor slithering down their throats as smooth as silk.

“Ahh. Whelp, that was exhausting. Same time tomorrow?” the former officer tries to leave with. “Oh no no no no no no. We are far from done here. We just got started” Sat goes, clutching the man’s shoulder. “Huh?” “I don’t really know what it was like in NYPD, but that easy going attitude ain’t gonna be enough anymore. We’ll be dealing with the crime syndicates psychics threatening our lives every single step we go; nearly on a day to day bases, really. So if you have any hopes of getting out of this whole mess alive, the time for taking it easy is over. We gotta kick this psychic training regimen up in high gear if you want to stand a chance. Cause if you don’t, they’ll be people out there more than happy to slit your throat open.” “What!?” “You did a nice job making a shot glass on the first try, so were gonna keep going. We ain’t stopping til you can form an entire plate and bowl set out of the air we breath.” Its upon this that it finally becomes clear to the former officer how much shit he had wound up getting in, the overwhelming realization clear to see on Tuesco’s face as his flask slips out from his hand and falls to the floor. “You’re cleaning that!” they hear Julian demand from a distance.

Taking in all the exquisite and exotic smells wafting through the air, Thursotte lets out a satisfied sigh as he shivers; all before claiming how: “Oh god. Its been so long since I’ve taken in the swelling scent of freshly made Chinese food. Really haven’t had any since I was in collage.” “Oh Thurs, that fucking cheap ass restaurant shit is nothing compared to the finely crafted and well prepared dishes served daily in this little slice of the east. The spices and foods these people get from direct oversea’s imports are the stuff of legends, the kind that people all over this city, hell even this country, to partake in the smorgasbord of exotic foods and the flavors they give. And the people, the dear wonderful people, they have the right idea when it comes to having good times aplenty, the prostitutes that roam the streets of the night can lend you pleasures beyond expectation. I had one that manage with nice tits to shove her finger in my-” Yet before the purple psychic could continue his description any further, Frida, thankfully, lets out a fake cough to grab their attention before she reminds him of how: “Didn’t we come here to scoop for info out here. Not shove food and unmentionables down our throats.” “Right right right! Can’t stay here too long, so lets straight to business and ask around for anything these guys might know.” “What makes you think anyone hear would know about the mob?” Thurs then question. “Because Thurs, exotic foods, spices, and people aren’t the only thing’s that come oversea’s. The crime syndicate of New York has had a long and weathered relationship with the dark and seedy underbelly that migrated from the depths of China. Where do you suppose the mob gets their imports from?”

Just before any of them could speak so much as another word on the matter, there attention is baited by a pained scream that echoes across the other side of the road; the three of them peering over to witness a man that just had wasabi flicked into his eye. Among the stinging pain brought by the famous green spice does the man start to run through the streets and straight into a woman carrying numerous hefty boxes in a towering stack; all of these weighty packages falling onto the poor guy as they slip from the woman’s grasp. “Shit, that sucks.” comments Weds. “What a way to start the day.” Frida claims.

Yet this be not the only series of unfortunate events they witness, as their site trails over towards a mobile food truck that suddenly catches fire; the chefs hair lit ablaze as she tumbles out from within and frantically dashes through the streets. The flaming chef makes a mad dash straight towards a tank filled with water sitting in another booth to swiftly put out her blazing head of hair; this quick solution only leading to more trouble though as she jerks her head back up from the hazy water, surfacing to scream out as several crabs latch tightly onto her face. Both Weds and Frida turn their eyes to the chaos causing psychic after watching these unlucky sequences unfold; Thursotte left surprised upon their unspoken accusation as he defends himself with: “What the-! Y-You think I’m doing this!? Guy’s you can’t even see any sort of aura around; how could this be me?” “Mmmm, true. Plus your kind of chaos is more wide spread and generalized, it ain’t this precise and targeted.” the dimensional psychic backs him up with. “Eh, whatever? We have more important things to worry about then a couple of people having some bad days.” the violet psychic brings the conversation back to.

“Yeah, speaking of. How do you expect to go about finding what we wanna know?” Thurs then questions. “Simple as spittin shit, Thurs. Just ask around.” “To anybody?” “No, not to just any rando out here. Booth vendors, restaurants owners, small shops; basically anyone that had the wrong mind to set up business around this part of town.” Wedsle explains. “Why is that a bad thing? With how much traffic this place seems to keep getting, opening a business here’s might as well be a no brainer.” “And that right there is the reason why the mob thought best to keep a tight grip in this part of the city; the revenue its businesses rakes in alongside the imports they get from here. Chinatown might as well be an unofficial overseas trading route; long as these folks here keep up the supplying, they get to keep their businesses running smoothly, and their lives spared to boot.” adds Frida. “That’s just heinous.”

“Yeah well, that’s just the way the world of crime works; and we’re gonna be taking little tour through this little piece of the east to find ourselves some info we can use against it.” “Which is why our best bet is for you to split?” Wedsle goes and tells Thursotte. “Just me, why!?” “If something goes and happens to Weds and I, we’ll need you to go back to the safe house for backup. Something to keep as an escape plan if things go south while your asking around.” Frida assures. “I don’t know about this guys, what if-” Thurs attempts to ask, rubbing the pocket he kept the key in. Though in the midst of questioning this does he look back to find the two already making their way through the street, both of them turning the corner as Frida assures that: “You got this!” Unbeknownst to either of them, another watches them all split off from afar from the shadows of an alley; a man dressed in yellow and black swirling jacket and pants laced with traces of golden studs. In both of his hands lye a pink, star shaped fruit; its sweet juices dripping onto the concrete as he partakes in its splendor.

A quiet worried groan can’t help but escape from him upon his friends departure, with Thursotte nervously turning over to trek the streets of Chinatown; his mind soon left to ponder which of these numerous businesses that lay out before him, and how to go about questioning for any sufficient information. From the way Wedsle put it, half of the restaurants and stores around here might just be under the mobs jurisdiction. If that’s true, being careful with my words is key; one wrong phrase and this place will be swarming with psychic mobsters before we know it. So Thursotte decides to start off this little quest at the very first indoor shop that he comes across, the sign above show Chinese letters printed across; though one would guess this being some sort of ancient Chinese antique store as the windows show statues and decoration dating back to numerous other dynasties.

The very moment that the young man enters the shop is when his interest perk as he beholds all the other artifacts and statues that line both the walls and the shelves, Thurs left mesmerized among the unique and exotic decorations surrounding him. Statues of serpent like dragons, monks, stone warriors; along with water paintings, chimes, small floral decorations, and robes the likes of which one would be seen wearing around that time. Wow! It’s all so pretty and- Before he could lose himself in the mystique and wonder of these pieces, the young man shakes off his hypnotic trance and slaps both of his cheeks together to regain his composure. Focus, Thurs; this is serious. This isn’t the time to be a tourist. Just ask the guy a couple questions and leave.

Reeling in his amazed wonderment, Thurs waltz right on over to the counter to face the cashier on the other side; an old man dressed in a polo long sleeve shirt and donning a cowboy hat. “Greeting, my friends. I was just in the neighborhood browsing around and heard about where I could hear about some dirt concerning this city’s crime syndicate. You think you know what a guy like me could might wanna hear.” he greets with, putting on a half hearted confident facade. That fake confidants starts to waver however when the owner starts to speak in words that he fails to understand; Thurs compelling the guy to: “Come again?” When speaking once more, the young man is left only more confused as he doesn’t understand a single word that comes out from his mouth; Thursotte simply looking to the owner with a perplexed gaze. The old man lets out a frustrated sigh before he ducks underneath the counter, only to come back up to put a sign written in English onto the counter. “The owner of this establishment understands and speaks exclusively in Chinese. Please translate or make your way to the exit.” it reads. “Oh...Oh no…”

A nervous worry begins to seep into the young man upon this discovery as he comes to realize how he doesn’t understand a single lick of Chinese in the slightest; sweat running down his forehead as she starts to back away from the counter and go: “Uh, well I guess I’ll just leave you back to your business, I hope you have a great day.” Just as he was about to make his way out from the store, Thurs turns around only to wind up bumping into another man wearing a lime green hood; Thursotte continuing to exit out from the shop as he quickly apologizes with: “Sorry!”

After exiting the establishment, the young psychic attempt to keep his thoughts from spiraling as he continues to walk through the streets; all the while he thinks of any other way he could gather information. Just relax, Thurs. This ain’t as big of a roadblock you think it is. So what there might be a couple of people living here that only speak in Chinese, that doesn’t mean everyone here does. I mean this place is rooted in the middle of one of the most famous cities of America, there has to be people around here that speak English. Plus from the way Wedsle put it, some of the shops around here have to know something about the mob. Even if things don’t work out there, I can always just pop back in the safe house and ask Sat and Tues for…for...f-for…

Thursotte’s budding optimism is swiftly cut short when delving into the pocket where he had left the bronze key in; that sense of worry returning as he reaches inside only to feel not a thing tucked in there. This worry ultimately evolves into utter dread when pulling this pocket inside out discover there be nothing inside; the young psychic shuttering as he internally screams within his mind. Where’d it go!? He frantically starts patting around all over his body in searching for the key, digging into his other pockets to check to see if he had misplaced it there instead; but this effort draws no hope for results as Thurs panics. Where’d the key go!? I know I put it in my pocket! I couldn’t have just lost it! It doesn’t make any sense, where could it have- Its in the middle of his internal freak out that he remembers when he was leaving the shop, having bumped into that random man in the lime green hoodie; this soon making him realize what had happened to him. That’s must’ve been it. That guy that bumped into me, he picked it out from my pocket as I was trying to leave.

With a glance back towards the antique shop, Thursotte spots the man in the lime green hoodie making his exit and heading the other way; the young psychic making a frantic bolt towards the guy who he knows picked the key off of him. I didn’t bump into anybody else when I got here! He has to have taken it! When the guy glances back to spot Thurs racing right after him, he almost immediately makes a run for it and speeds through the streets; knocking down whoever may stand in his way. If I don’t get that key back, we’ll end up stuck out here and fresh for the mob to finish off! No matter what, I can’t lose it!

Down a couple more city blocks, Frida and Wedsle casually stroll through the streets of Chinatown and come to the other part of the shopping district; the dimensional psychic feeling a bit weary as she constantly glances back before she goes: “I should’ve went with him.” “Girl, just loosen the chain up already. You sound like one of those fucking know it all helicopter parents.” “Most competent parents wouldn’t leave their kids to ask around for secrets of the mob alone.” “Good thing Thurs isn’t a kid, is he?” “Wedsle!”

“He’ll be fine, Frida. Thursotte isn’t as wet behind the ears anymore. He’s done plenty of feats to prove that he can handle whatever trouble he gets into. Like when he caused that traffic jam to stop that delivery you two intercepted.” “Yeah.” she says. “Or when he took on one of the apostles heavenly knights...think that’s what those larpers called themselves.” “True.” “The time he dragged you through the inside of a crumbling office while being chased by cops.” “Mmhm, alright fine. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to let the kid do stuff on his own. If he can keep that key on him, then I might have nothing to worry about.” “Like you said Frids:  He’s proven to be more careful in the short time you’ve known him than I have in the years you’ve spent with me” the violet psychic calls back to, bringing a little smile to his dimensional merging partner. “So, where the hell in this little slice of the east are you expecting to dig up some dirt?” the dimensional brings the topic back to. “Don’t worry about any of that, I know of ways around here that outta point us to the buried treasure of intel we’re looking for.”

A reassuring thought that the two of them take as they travel deeper into the depths of this oriental piece of the big apple; neither of them aware in the slightest of a third party stalking them from among the crowd of tourists. Out from the countless people does this man watch the two from afar as he finishes chowing down on his piece of fruit. When the man donned in yellow and black finds his supply of star shaped fruit running dry, he breaks his sites away from his pair of pursuits to gauge the people around him; his eyes wondering off towards the side and lock his eyes upon another, a man dressed in a blue tee making his way into a public restroom. A sinister grin stretches across the fruit eating man as he follows after this unsuspecting guy.

Within the private confines of the men’s restroom can the man in the blue tee be seen relieving himself against the urinal; a soft and nearly silent moan escaping from him as he lets all the piss in his bladder out. Its soon after starting that he then sees another man move to the urinal neighboring his, the guys yellow and black bejeweled outfit drawing his eyes over to him. But when this extravagantly dressed guy looks back at him, he quickly jerks his head the other way in hopes of his gawking not being noticed; all the while the man he looks away from seizes his opportunity and reach over towards him. A bright pink aura seeps out from the palm of his hand as the man in yellow and black thrusts his arm into the other man’s side; his victim left utterly comatose as the psychic digs deep into his very being. In just a few more moments does the guy in the bejeweled outfit finally withdraw his arm out from his victims side; reeling from within a bright pink power that begins to take shape before his very eyes. This formless glob of pink power soon takes the shape of a plump glowing star fruit, the exact same kind of star fruit that he had been eating just moments ago.

The man dressed in the blue tee swiftly comes to and gazes down to where he had relieved himself, left shocked when he discovers having urinated down the leg of his pants; an embarrassing unlucky situation that leaves him all the more perplexed as he tucks his dong back in and zips right back up. Away from the urinal does the man then waltz over towards the sink in a bid to wash away the shame of soiling himself, only for the knob to break off as soon as he attempts to turn it; a geyser of water spewing against him as he backs away from the broken sink. Now drenched and cold, he turns to the paper towel dispenser to at least try to dry off; his grief growing when the pulling the lever only for the dispenser to jam. The soaked man is left fed up with it all and simply decides to leave; only to wind up slipping from the water all over the floor and unintentionally knocking over another man trying to come in. Stepping right over these two, the guy donning the yellow and black swirl jacket emerges out from the public restroom with a freshly picked piece of star fruit in his hands, wasting not another moment to bite down upon its soft hide and slurping the juices within; this man venturing back towards where he saw his real pursuits went as he takes another bite.

Struggling grunts and straining breaths echo across the halls of the safehouse as Tuesco continues practicing his newfound psychic powers; Satette watching closely as the former officer attempts to form his cerulean blue aura into that of a big donut. His attempt to make the more complex shape out of the air itself ends rather anticlimactically, as Tuesco is just about to complete the shape before his mental fortitude crumbles; his aura dissipating as the stress inflicted becomes far too much for him to handle and nearly collapses as a result. Sat immediately rushing over to his side as he fumbles against the wall; helping him up as she asks: “Tues, you alright?” “I think so. Only feel light headed. Did you used to feel like this when you first became a psychic?” “Yeah, but don’t worry. The more you get used to it, those constant headache’s will practically be nonexistent.” “Thing is, I don’t really wanna get used to this. The moment a way out for me comes, I’m getting out of this city as fast as possible.”

“I ain’t got a problem with that, but the others might say otherwise.” “What, they’re gonna force me to do their bidding?” “Eh, not so much force, more like exploit. Long as the mob has as tight of a stranglehold on this city, the chances of you making it out of New York in one piece are pretty nonexistent; and Wedsle knows that. I’m afraid you have no other option but to work with us on this if you plan on escaping.” “God dammit.” frowns Tuesco, crossing his arms. “That’s really the reason why we’re going through this whole psychic crash course. You want out, you got work for it. And to work for it, you gotta be up to snuff. Cause if you ain’t, you won’t be making it out of this city, at least with your life.” Satette elaborates. “Years of work on the force and in short of a week, I’m reduced to nothing but a henchman.” “Not much of a difference if you ask me. Only which side you play on.”

With a muffled rumble seeping out from between his lips, the former officer simply keeps listening as Satette continues their training by instructing to: “Now part of wielding your psychic powers is to get in the habit of treating it like an extension of yourself. Like I said before, you have to get in the mindset of believing you can solidify air is as easily as you can breathe… Which is pretty ironic in this case, isn’t it?” “And how do recon I do that?” “Well, how other people go about that can vary, but something that usually helps me is visualizing what I want my power to do. And something tells me that your already halfway there, considering how you could easily make basic geometric shapes.” “But I’ve been trying just that, and all I’ve been getting back is nothing but splitting headaches.” “Probably because you haven’t gotten fully immerse in that mindset yet. I mean, you just now realized you can control your powers a few days ago when you’ve had them for around a month. So, to that end, we’re gonna be doing some mental exercises.” “What like taking a test or something?” “Kind of.”

Upon approaching her waiting pupil, the lively young psychic takes Tuesco’s hand holds it up to him as she says: “You’re hand right here, I want you to visualize what it looks like in your mind; think you can do that?” “Of course I can, I’m not stupid.” “Good, since it’s so easy, I want you to close your eyes and put both of them behind your back.” Like she instructs him to do, Tuesco shuts his eyes and takes both of his hands behind his back, then hearing her tell him to: “Now, think about what your hand looked like to you in that moment; think of the air surrounding you as like that very arm and use it to focus on bring that mental picture to light.” “What’s that even mean?” he can’t help but ask “Uh...O-okay, so you know how in Kindergarten around November, the teacher has them all make turkeys by putting their hand over the paper and tracing it. Think of it like that, except with air instead of blueberry scented markers.” This visualization exercise set upon him, Tues takes in a calming deep breath before he begins to make a picture in his mind him putting his hand over a piece of paper; imagining a marker swirling along the outline of his hand as he keeps his thoughts focused. And though he starts to feel the same headaches coming on as he did before, the freshly new psychic fights through the encroaching migraine and holds his thoughts steady to finish picturing himself drawing the turkey.

Once he successfully finishes this mental exercise, he then wonders aloud: “Did...did it work?” “Why don’t you feel over and find out?” he hears the young woman suggests. Like she tells him to, Tuesco takes his hands out from behind his back and reaches over to feel if his visualization exercise had work; sparks of joy surging through him as he feels the palm of his hand slide up a smooth cylinder. Moving his hand up to the top of this cylinder is he astonished to feel what resembled a hand, running his fingers across its own. “Is this...Did I do it?” he utters. “Open your eyes and see.”

From the young woman’s simple suggestion, Tuesco opens his eyes to behold his own hand caressing the very air he solidified, feeling this piece of air taking the same shape he had pictured in his mind. Fingers, palm, even the arm, the new psychic had successfully recreating his own arm with nothing but the air around them; a feet of which he was amazed to have pulled off. “It worked…I actually did it!” “I mean the hand feels less detailed than it should be, but this still is a fantastic start. You keep doing stuff like this and you’ll be able to make way more than just an arm.” Satette proclaims. “You think so?” “I know so. Now lets keep it up. Lets see what else you can make doing that visual exercise.”

Through the residential streets of Chinatown, the psychic of Murphy’s law continues his pursuit after the lime hoodie wearing man that pilfered the key back to the safehouse from his pockets; both of them swerving around the people in the streets as they hurry. The mob isn’t gonna waste any time when they realize we’re here; so I can’t let this guy get away with the key. Like swimming in the middle of the ocean with hungry sharks encircling us, we’ll be stranded out in the middle of the city just waiting for them to pluck us out. When coming up towards the end of the concrete walkway, Thursotte is left concerned as the man dressed in lime refused to slow down when nearing a road filled with busy traffic; the vehicles dashing through showing no signs of slowing down, much less stopping. He’s not stopping! The guy’s gonna get run over! But just when the man was at the very end of the walkway does he suddenly make a bounding leap to the wall next to him and starts to scale up its brickwork; Thursotte rushing to try and catch up to him before he climbs out from reach. Yet by the time he makes it to the end, his thief has climbed far too high for him to reach up towards and can only watch as the man in the lime green coat scale up to the glazed tiled rooftop.

But when making it near the top of the building, the traditional Chinese rooftop prevents the pickpocket from ascending any further; stuck at the top of the buildings corner searching for a way out. A glance around each side of the corners reveal the windows left sealed shut, refusing to budge no matter how much he tries to force his way in. At least it seems like he’s stuck up there. Just need something to knock him down and- wait, what is he doing? From the tippy top of the building, the man reaches over towards the rooftops bottom corner before he kicks off the wall; the thief making a daring leap to grasp at the black wire attached to the end of the roof. Like a hung strand of rope held across a chasm, the pickpocket starts to shimmy across towards the other side of the street. Climbing across the electrical wire!? He’s out of his mind! That snaps under his own weight as he might as well be fried. Though to his surprise does the lime green thief prove to be more nimble than he suspects as he has little trouble moving across the electric wire; like a man of the jungle swinging across the length of a vine, he swings his arms up around to clutch the black piece of rope as he shimmies closer and closer towards the other side. Oh, man. If he makes it to the other side, there ain’t no way I’m finding him again. Need some way to knock him off.

Its in frantically thinking of a way to bring his pickpocket back down to earth, Thurs’ eyes fix to the very wall that the lime green thief had climbed up from; the young man making a nervous gulp when realizing what has to be done. I really hope this doesn’t turn out too bad. Left with next to no other option presented to him, the chaos triggering psychic takes a moment to back away from the wall before he makes a daring charge towards its brickwork; Thursotte coating his leg in his orange aura as he lunges out to deliver a full force kick against the corner of the building. The very first thing that the he feels after kicking the corner of the building is the spainful sensation that course up from his foot and up his leg; the young man hissing from the pain as he kneels down and rubs the top of his foot. Agh, god! Okay, probably didn’t have to kick it.

Among seething from his bruised foot, he looks back towards the wall to find his orange power slithering up the building; the walls very brickwork cracking up as his aura envelopes the corner in its glow. And its from these newly forming cracks that the piece of corner breaks off from the rest of the building and tumbles down towards the busy road. Several of the cars forced to slamming down on their breaks as the pillar of broken bricks threatens to crash down on top of them, with the other cars behind them stopping in a pile up. Along with that corner of the building, the part of the roof with the electric cable attached breaks right off to plummet down with the rest of the debris; the lime green man hanging on the wire holding on tight as he swings towards the other side of the street. Yet rather than making a clean landing onto the walkway, the thief winds up face planting right into the next building before fumbling down the pavement.

The resulting dust soon settles to show what remains of the buildings broken off corner piled up across the road, blocking any of the other cars from crossing the mess of jagged broken bricks; a risk that none of the drivers dare tempt to take for fear of popping their tires. With the rushing traffic congested to a standstill, the path to the other side of the street is finally safe to cross; an opportunity that Thursotte is swift to take when seeing the pickpocket awaken from his stupor, the young man making a dash across the road. The lime green thief quickly recovers from his daze to find the guy he stole from furiously racing after him; the pickpocket leaping up off the ground to make a mad dash through more of the streets as his pursuer shouts: “Get back here, you!”

Down the recesses of one of Chinatown’s alleyways, a guy fumbles against one of its cold brick walls when pushed by none other than the purple mobster himself; Wedsle throwing his bike over before staring the guy down with an intimidating grin as he watches the man struggle to pick himself off the floor. “I only have about 5 dollars on me, I swear! P-please don’t hurt me!” this man desperately pleads. “Easy there, buddy. We ain’t here for anything like that, what I want out of you is a little more personal.” “Oh...Oh god...Not like this, not here.” the guy shivers reaching down to unzip his pants. “Oh my god, put your fucking pants back on, I ain’t doing that! Not in a dirty alley, at least.” Weds protests. “Then what you want from me?” “All were wanting out of your cute little mouth is a little intel; nothing too demanding, just if you’ve seen anything weird around town. “Li-Like what?”

“Eh, come on. A delivery boy like you’s has to have wound up stumbling upon a couple of dubious and gruesome scenes in your short quote on quote “Career”. Wound up unexpectedly seeing something you weren’t supposed to in the mind numbing daily grind for less than 15 an hour? Hmm?” “No no no no no no! I-I can’t! Those guys have eyes and ears almost everywhere, if they catch wind of any witnesses, who know’s what they’ll do to me!” A threatened chill runs down the delivery boy’s spin as the purple psychic leans down upon him; the sensation of panic and fear coursing through his veins as his purple eyes lean closer and closer, all the while the violet man claims how: “Well, believe me, my pants pissing pal. Whatever those guys plan on doing to you, I promise I’ll do something a dozens times worse if you don’t squirt your sweet sweet information for me.” “Eh heee...D-I! I don’t know a lot about it, but I’ve seen some real weird people lurking around there; particularly around Broadway. Saw some of them come in to some of the stores near the very top city block, then come right back out with huge boxes and bags. I don’t know what’s in them, and I don’t wanna know.” “Any names?” “A-a couple. Sometimes in the laundry mat, other times in the herbal store; I even saw them go in a gift shop one time on a late night. Just please don’t hurt me, that’s all I know!”

“See, that wasn’t so hard. I get the information I need, and you get to keep your teeth. Everyone wins.” states Wedsle, leaning away from the frightened man before he starts to stroll back to the end of the alley with his partner waiting. “Th...that’s it? That’s all you wanted? You’re not gonna do anything to me?” the delivery boy questions as he stands back up. “Nah, don’t really feel like getting my kicks whipping a guy like you down...Unless you might be into it.” “What!? No! Jus-just leave me alone!” he staunchly objects. “Hey, you’re loss.” the purple psychic claim as both he and the woman with him make their exit.

Letting out all the shuddering sensations that had been bubbling from this frightening encounter, the meager delivery boy is left to pick up his bike and head towards the other side of the alleyway; letting out a shuttering sigh before saying out loud: “Why do I always run into these kinds of people.” “Might be because of your line of work.” he then hears somebody suggests, glancing back up to discover a man in a yellow and black bejeweled jacket staring him down. The terror he felt just moments ago starts to worm its way back into the delivery guy as this man begins to slowly approach; blocking the only way out from the alley as he hears this man tell him the morbid fact of how: “You know the chances of dying on the job are higher for a delivery boy than a police officer, right? It’s pretty damn bad being stuck in a dead end job like that already; having those statistics over your heads might as well be unlucky.”

The Northwestern part of this exotic oriental piece of the big apple being their next stop, the two former mobsters make their way back into the market district towards its other end; Wedsle taking a big whiff of the countless scents and spices wafting from the unique assortment of dish. “Man, feels like such a tease coming here without getting a bite to eat. You want to unload all that flavor in your mouth, but they just keep pulling away the moment you try and have a taste. Its fucking torturous, dammit!” he laments. “Ain’t like we could afford any of this anyway. The targets hanging on our heads alongside what little cash we have; we can’t risk going around blowing it all on whatever meal gives you any food erection. Every single cent counts for us at this point.” explains Frida. “I know. It just sucks going through here knowing that.” “If you have such a stick up your ass about it, why didn’t you rob that guy you were shaking down for info? Pretty sure those 5 bucks could gotten you something.” “Nah, guy stuck in a shitty job like that needs every cent he can scrounge up. All I’d be getting from the bowl of udon I could buy is a bad taste in my mouth.”

In the middle of this discussion, their attention is beckoned towards a commotion going on at a stand next to them; one of the customers letting out a frightened scream when one of the dumplings she had put in their mouth unfolds. The piece of dough breaks open to unleash a whole swarm of baby spiders that crawl out from the woman’s open mouth; the unfortunate woman frantically flailing and running about in a terrified panic. Among her hysterical racing, the woman winds up running straight into another booth and winds up toppling it all down, all of it falling right on top of her. “Jesus!” Weds utters. “Lotta people around here having pretty bad days, huh?” comments Frida. “I don’t know if it’s as simple as that. One’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, three is a pattern. So what would that make four?” “You think this stuff’s happening deliberately, through some kind of psychic?” “It explain a helluva lot.” “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why screw with random people instead of coming after us?” Just when the two were pondering of this strange phenomenon, another discovery then creeps upon them as they comes to find the delivery boy they had spoken to before; moaning in pain as he lays against the fire hydrant with his own bent up bike entangling his body. “Psychic or not, something definitely happening around here. The kind of luck you gotta have to end up like this. God.” claims Weds.

“It’s not like he had much of it to begin with anyway.” the two then hear another state. Towards where this comment had been voice, both of them swiftly glance aside to witness a man dressed in a jacket of swirling black and yellow approaching the injured delivery boy; a star shaped fruit no bigger than his palm resting in his hand shinning with a bright pink luminescence. “Kid barely had any of it left to spare. I mean just look at him, whats worse than getting in such a nasty crash entangle in your own damn bike. Real sad. Still…” Shuffling the small piece of fruit to his thumb, he flicks the star up into the air and sends it plummeting right into his open mouth; a potent pink aura enveloping his body as he chews upon the fresh produce. “A man like me’s gotta take what he can get. Especially when he’s stuck with dealing with the likes of you backstabbers.”

When the two of them realize what the man before them was referring to, Frida is quick to the draw as she delves into her denim jacket to pull out her trusty piece; the dimensional psychic wasting no time to pull the trigger as soon as the gun was aimed towards his head. Yet the very moment the dimensional psychic fire her weapon is her aim suddenly thwarted as a ball comes bouncing right out of nowhere and hits her hand; the bullet misfiring directly into the window of a nearby restaurant. “Dammit!” she curses, aiming back towards the man to try her luck again. This time however is she can’t even to so much as fire her weapon as the trigger inexplicably jams, refusing to budge no matter how much she tries to pull on it.

Before the young woman could do so much as attempt to pull out another gun from her jacket, the man in yellow and black suddenly makes a dashing lunge towards the two of them; a move that the two react to almost immediately as Frida delves down into the 2nd dimension of the ground, leaving Wedsle to take the brunt of this tackling charge head on. His aura flaring and his stance steady, Wedsle has no problem standing against this new foe both physically and supernaturally; the purple psychic holding the man back with little trouble as he taunts the guy with: “The head on approach? Not gonna lie, respect the balls on ya; but you sure that’s the wisest move?” “Maybe not. But I got something no smarts can measure up to.” the yellow and black wearing man brags.

When the violet mobster attempts push back against his foe, he feels something squish beneath the bottom of his shoe and swiftly peers down to find himself having stepped in a mess of spilled noodles; the spoiled pile of noodles causing him to slip up. The lucky opportunity presented to him, his fortunate foe pushes Wedsle over and sends him crashing into the empty stand behind him; the entire booth trembling as he fumbles right over its counter. Inside this booth, the purple mobster is quick to discover the rickety rack of kitchen knives left hanging above; the entire set falling right off their hinges and plunging down at him. Wedsle rolls right off to the side in evading their deadly sharp ends, with the edges of these knives however managing to graze the back of his head. Rolling right out from the kitchen knife selling stand, the purple psychic glares to the guy that had tackled him back, posturing with an abundance of smug pride as he boastfully how: “The luck of Novelle Iboni isn’t something to take lightly. You mess with me, you’ll wind up on the short end of lady luck wrath.”

During this bodacious posturing, the dimensional psychic scuttles up the side of the closest building before partially emerging out from its brick face with her weapon; Frida being given another chance to snipe their foe as she takes aim towards the back of his head. Dumbass, taking us head on and bragging about your powers! You practically signed your own death warrant! Her aim holding true, the gun woman takes another shot against the man standing beneath her; pulling the trigger to let the bullet fly. Unfortunately is her shot is not as honest as she hoped, for a food truck passing by ends up blocking her at the very last moment, ricocheting her bullet slightly to send it zooming right by Novelle’s head. Feeling the wayward bullet zip right by him, the man in yellow and black looks up towards the dimensional psychic with surprise at first; that astonishment quickly fading back to a confidently smug grin. It was almost he was silently mocking the gun woman for her poor attempts to take his life. What the hell was that!?

Rapid footsteps reach his ears from behind and alert the lucky psychic of his purple adversary making a charging assault directly from behind; Novelle casually turning around to find the violet traitor coming at him with a sharp kitchen knife. In one swift motion does Wedsle plunge the knife directly into his foes stomach, feeling the blade sink into the man’s abdomen; yet to his worry does the guy fail to so much as flinch, much less let out any sort of pained outcry. Wedsle quickly pulls back with the sharp dagger handle still in hand; the blade breaking right off its hinge as he rapidly retreat. The purple psychic is left even further perplexed when finding the blade not having dug as deep into the man as he had felt; rather instead left stuck wedge against something hard hidden underneath the guy’s jacket. After prying the blade off his person, Novelle lifts up a part of his jacket to show off the blade having not plunged into his stomach, but rather had been stopped by a gold platted belt buckle donning a mural of the Las Vegas strip; the face of the buckle left with nothing but a scratch. “Fucking cheap ass Chinese knockoffs!” the violet traitor shouts, throwing the knife handle down on the ground.

Trying his luck with the poorly made kitchen knife, Novell casually tosses the broken sharp edge out at the purple psychic; Wedsle effortlessly evading the knife blade without so much as any forethought. Weds puts in as much thought in charging straight after the pink aura psychic, paying little mind to the blade careening off towards another booth behind him; the blunt end of the knife bouncing right off the top of a drum set to be sent flying overhead. At the peek of its ascent is the blade then plunged right into the body of a passing pigeon, one that delves down towards the dimensional psychic peeking out from the wall; Frida left too distracted attempting to aim at their foe once again to see the bird plummeting down towards her. The dead sparrow ends up slamming against the side of the gun woman’s shoulder, the tip of the blade running through the bird cutting across her arm enough to make her aim flinch.

As she retches from the cut inflicted upon her arm, her aim shift ever so slight off from her intended target as she pulls the trigger; the bullet zipping right past the man in yellow and black and straight into the leg of her purple partner, Novelle moving right out of the way as Wedsle trips down from the piece of led shot in his leg. “Frida, what the fuck?!” “I-I didn’t- I mean I didn’t even...What-what the fuck!? What’s going on today!?” “Is it drilling in both of your heads yet? As long as the visage of lady fortune smiles upon me, neither of you can land even a scratch.” gleefully declares Novelle, raising his foot to try and stomp down upon the downed purple psychic.

The purple psychic rolls right out from harms away before the lucky psychic could stomp down his shot shin, swiftly scuttling over towards the building his dimensional partner climbs down from; both of them coming together as they face down the man they failed to dispatch. “Okay, direct approach ain’t working. Any other bright idea’s?” the gun woman questions. “I can only think of one right now. Hate even think of it, but its our only ticket out. See that crack in the wall there.” the violet psychic brings attention to, Frida glancing over to find a sizable crack held along the brickwork. “Oh. I see what your getting at.”

“Whatever you two are planning, it ain’t gonna work. Any sort of game strategy you got cooking up against me is guarantee to fail, long as the winds of probability are blowing my way.” Novelle proclaims, making a daring lunge towards the two of them. “Good thing you ain’t part of our plan then.” states the purple psychic, clutching the hand of the woman behind her as she merges into the wall. Before the pink aura psychic could reach either of them, Frida drags her purple partner into the second dimension with her as she scurries over to the aforementioned crack in the wall; the two wasting not a second to escape into the crevice and slipping away from their lucky adversary. “Jeez. Don’t know weather to chalk that up as quick thinking or just plain luck.” the man growls. Yet his demeanor starts to turn around when glancing aside to witness a family of four rushing into the confines of a nearby home; Novelle cracking a wicked grin as he takes this moment of his targets escaping and turns it around with: “Though I might want to take a minute to browse around to see if I can harvest some real plump crops.”

Echoing through the halls of the safehouse could the sound of Tuesco’s strenuous grunts be heard as Satette watches him attempt to form his cerulean aura into the shape of a broadsword; the former officer struggling to finish constructing the blade of the weapon. Tues just barely able to create the sharp tip of the sword before his concentration shatters and his power dissolves, the air solidifying psychic falling to the floor as he clutches his head, hissing from the headache resulting from this exercise. “Gaaah...Dammit!” “You were doing so good. You almost had it.” Satette praises him. “Doesn’t feel like it. Swear it feels like my heads about to split in half from all this.” “And that my friend is what we call progress. Like how you do a whole crazy ass work out routine in the gym; and then the next day, all the pain and strain hits you all at once. Like I keep saying, its like working out a muscle.” “Can I give my brain muscle a bit of a break then. Swear I’ve went through 5 headaches in the past 4 hours.” “Eh, a break probability sounds good right about now. Lets take a peek in the kitchen and see what we can raid from the fridge.” she suggests.

One look to the kitchen is all it takes to leave the lively psychic baffled of the state it had been left in; the rubble and scorch marks left behind after their ordeal escaping from its inferno still plainly evident to see. The sink broken, the cabinets torn up, the floor cracked, the stove bent up; the collateral damage the kitchen had suffered from was on disaster levels of destruction. “Wow. Julian wasn’t kidding around. Seems like you boys did a real number on this place and multiplied that by pi.” she somewhat jests. “I was about just as baffled. To think that Thurs did all this just by tossing around a little pebble.” “Thought he did this. Practically has Thursotte’s name written all over it. I mean part of the sink is lodged in the oven; not sure how else somebody could realistically do that.” “I just hope the fridge is still in tact.” Tues wonders, strolling over to the refrigerator. Clutching the handle to the fridge, Tuesco stands aside as he swings the door wide open; bracing himself for the loud banging barrage of guns like he did last time. Yet the former officer is a tad perplexed when hearing not even a click go off, Tues peeking into the fridge to find all the firearms stuffed within replaced with a wide selection of food and drinks. “Oh.” he utters. “What?” “Nothing, blushes the former officer.

Within another part of the safehouse do both Sat and Tues left sitting side by side among the edge of a comically long dinning table boasting about 25 feet across the room; the numerous chairs set along this table left baron and empty. The lively psychic takes a satisfying bite out of the sandwich in her hands, moaning over the delectable meats and cheese set between the soft pieces of wheat bread; admitting how: “Never tasted anything this good before. The cheese seriously just melts in your mouth; and the meat, the flavor just pops!” “I remember packing stuff like this for lunch about every other day for work. I think its just regular sliced barbecue pork.” “Really. Never had that.” “Never?” “Nope. All my dad was really able to afford for us was dollar generic brand bologna. None of the other fancier deli stuff.” she admits. “How poor were you guys?” “I-I mean for fuck’s sake. I used to steal stuff for other people as a living before all this.” “You couldn’t find another place to work?” “Nothing else made enough money. I could barely afford rent. And I got just enough for the bare necessities on a good day.” “Really? I made enough working with the police to get by and then some.” “That’s cause your working with the police; not to mention a lot of that line of work is seeped in corruption; especially with the NYPD.” “I...Gah! Not all of it was.” the former officer objects.

“How long were you working with them again?” “About a couple decades or so.” “And in that whole time, you didn’t find anything sus about it all?” “Um...Well I mean there were a couple things that threw me off. Like the security at the station was strangely uptight, especially around the cells. But I just brushed that off as wanting to be safer than sorry with our prisoners.” “If they wanted that, they could’ve sent those guys to actual prisons instead of blowing their overinflated budgets on suping the place up. I mean what kind of people you got kept in there to warrant that sort of muscle?” “Uh...Dr-drug traffickers…” Tuesco meekly admits, this fact drawing out a contemptuous glare from the woman beside him. “Okay, knowing what I do now in retrospect, its obvious. But that doesn’t mean everyone there was morally bankrupt.”

“How many people on the force did you personally knew?” she then moves on to ask. “Well I mean, you’ve met Martin. Guy was probably the closest thing I had to a best friend around that line of work, and I didn’t even suspect he was this deep in it all.” “Tuesco, it doesn’t matter if you knew some people there were objectively morally standing people; the institution itself is mired with the mob’s business. A couple of upstanding people in the system isn’t enough to transform a system rotten to its core.” “But I...I can’t believe that. I don’t think your lying, but I refuse to accept the organization I worked with for half my life, an organization meant to impede criminal activity and guard the lives of everyday people, were cooperation alongside one of the biggest criminal syndicates of New York. It-it-it-it…” Tuesco states, letting out a weary sigh at the end of his rant. Nothing but a worrying silence is all that wafts through the dinning hall air as Satette fails to find the words she need to comfort the former officer of these newfound revelations; Tuesco himself ultimately rising from his seat and making his way out. “I need a minute.” he demands. “Tues, wait…” Sat attempts to draw him back with, her words falling on deaf ears as the air solidifying psychic shuts the door behind him. An upset groan can’t help but seep out from under the lively young woman’s breath as she see’s what attempting to tackle the man’s biases had ended up; Sat glaring down to the half eaten sandwich he had left behind.

A ways into the depths of China Town sits a small, but calming and serene natural park; holding a sizable landscape the likes of which people and pets frolic and relax upon the freshly kept grass. Beside this open plain of grass stood some basketball and tennis courts, free for anyone wishing to play these respective sports for exercise or just simple fun; all while the children they bring can occupy themselves at the playgrounds installed between these courts. And among these recreational activities do dozens of tree’s stand surrounding this little slice of nature, further boasting this park as a break from the regular urban scenery, even with how minuscule it stood compared to the other parks through the city.

A small group of people within the basketball court casually, runs around and dribble the ball from one end of the court to the next. It was as normal and fun as a round of basketball can be among the fresh air surrounding the crowd. Yet this isolated game of basketball is rudely interrupted when a man donned in a lime green hoodie leaps out from the side of the court and cuts straight through both teams while swiping the ball away; all of them glancing back where this guy came from when they hear: “Just stop already!”

Following after the hooded man does Thursotte make a bounding leap right over the bushes and straight through the basketball court; careful not to bump into any of the players as he slithers by. During this chase across the court, the lime hooded thief chucks the basketball he swiped at his pursuer in hopes of tripping him up; Thurs instead catching the ball and infusing it with his power before throwing it back towards its sender. Though the runaway pickpocket manages to evade the basketball tossed back at him, the ball keeps on bouncing all the way towards the edge of the court before slamming against the base of the hoop; the rusty steel holding the hoop up bending in a way to make it collapse under its own weight. Just as the runaway thief was reaching the other side of the court, the along the end tumbles down like a falling tree, crashing down before the hooded thief and cutting his swift escape a little short. Among this sudden scare does Thursotte tackle the lime hooded pickpocket against the board of the hoop, frisking around to try and pull the bronze key he stole off him. But the thief soon breaks away from his grasp and pushes Thurs off, hoping over the knocked over hoop before darting out from the court and deeper into the small park; the young man he stole from failing to waver as he bolts after him.

The parks playground is thankfully baron of any children anywhere in site as both Thursotte and the pickpocket he chases after dart towards one of the playground equipment; the chaos triggering psychic scooping up a load of pebbles of the countless that litter the playground. Thursotte throws out the fistful of rocks at his runaway thief in hopes of slowing him down, but sees the pickpocket leaping right up to the top of the slide to evade the scattering collection of stones. Yet the power that Thurs had put with the bunch of rocks he had tossed over starts to immediately work its magic as the thief tries to slide down to the bottom; the thin sheet metal making up the slide falling apart underneath him. Despite being tripped up by the slide breaking under him, the lime hooded pickpocket frantically shoving the pieces off to flee from his pursuing victim; the two darting away from the broken slide and head straight over towards an all in one piece of playground equipment.

Watching the thief leap up the small set of plastic steps at the start of a whole playground system, Thursotte scoops up another handful of pebbles from the ground as he pursues after; the accident triggering psychic throwing out aura infused one rock at time rather than all at once. And though these pebbles might not boast as much size, their potential to deliver just as much chaos is evident as one clonks against one of the loose screw holding the first part of the playground equipment; the piece of equipment falling apart as the pickpocket races across the bridge connecting the second. Rushing away from the collapsing bridge, the lime hooded thief quickly climbs towards the top of the combo playground equipment; gazing down to the man he had stolen from to see what he does next.

Rather then toss another pebble straight at the pickpocket, Thurs instead throws some of them out towards the right of the piece of equipment; the small rocks beating down against the plastic support beams holding the structure up. Before the runaway thief could take this way over, the plastic support beams give away and cause that part of the system to collapse and cutting out the lime hooded thief’s escape. Having isolated the pickpocket in the middle of the top of the broken playground system, Thurs throws out the rest of the pebbles in his grasp all over what was left standing of the piece of equipment; the rocks beating against the loose screws and bent pieces of plastic to make the structure tremble. Feeling the piece of equipment he stand on about to collapse, the wily thief jumps off the playground system before it falls apart and makes a rough landing; rolling in the dirt before making a dash away from the accident causing psychic.

Out from the playground and straight through the rest of the park, the lime hooded pickpocket dashes across the treeline of the open fields, weaving around the trees in his way in hopes of throwing the man he robbed from off his tail. Thursotte however does not waver in his pursuit and continues to chase after the pickpocket across the edge of the park, leaping off to break off a couple of their loose branches for ammunition. Instilling these branches with his own brand of Murphy's law, the young man throws them like javelins up towards the tree’s ahead of the thief; the leaves rustling around as a couple of squirrels come tumbling out to land upon the runaway thief. The pair of squirrels frantically scampers all over the pickpocket as he continues to scurry away, the lime hooded man flailing around in an effort to get the two rodents off his person.

His pickpocket foe left distracted, Thurs tosses out another branch into the trees above to disturb something that could stop the runaway thief; yet the second time around isn’t as fruitful as the first, for out from the tree line tumbles what appeared to be a flock of pigeons that swoop down to harass the young psychic instead. Among his panic does Thursotte accidentally bestow his power into the rats with wings as both he and the thief scurry towards the temple at the end of the park, the two blindly racing right into the inside of the small oriental building. Glass shattering, wood breaking, walls crashing, and bells chiming wildly in their rapidly escalating game of cat and mouse, Thurs and the pickpocket he pursues quickly racing out of the temple and out from the Chinese park; the building they leave behind splitting apart from the resulting discord. A defiling accident that leaves the park goers in utter shock and dread.

Among the other end of the local Chinese marketplace, shoppers and shop owners alike remain weary as they go about their usual business; the ruckus heard from the other side of the lane alongside the patrolling police officers leaving everyone on edge. Unbeknownst to the dozens of tourists and stand owners wandering the streets, there lies a unique predator among them; one that stalks its potential victims in an effort to harvest their good fortune in plain site. Casually waltzing through the street market does Novell, the man dressed in yellow and black swirls, scout for potential prey as he finishes off the last of a star shaped fruit; his bright pink aura flourishing as he partakes in its plump juices.

Its among scouting for his next victim that he comes to a lonely booth manned by an elderly woman; this senior   holding numerous glassware and decoration hung and displayed all around her, the old woman’s expression lighting up as she sees the man approach. “Welcome, welcome, welcome; take a look through my many glass sculptors and decorations. Many of these figures were lovingly handcrafted by yours truly; sculpted after the mythical yokai and demons hailing from Chinese mythology. Why not take one home to set on your mantel, or your nightstand; waking up every morning to this guy’s watchful eye.” the stand owner attempt to sell with, presenting a frightening glass visage before her customer. “Ahh! Ah! N-no thanks. I uh, I actually had my eye in that dragon you have back there.” the lucky psychic claims, pointing towards a serpent like dragon set along the back shelf. “Oh! I see you’re a man of unique tastes! The symbol of the dragon is one of the 12 zodiac signs of my home country foretold to bring forth fortune and luck to those under its year. Me thinks your chances of heralding such boons are likely possessing such a mythical figure.” “Really? What a lucky find. How much you asking for it?” “70 dollars.” the elderly woman firmly states.

“70! Damn, a little steep don’t you think?” he questions. “My figurines are a one of a kind item that no other sculptor can give you, and that dragon in particular wasn’t easy to make; so I hope you understand how I ask for such a price.” “Hmm, shame. And here I imagined putting it on display in my living room for special occasions for a nice conversation starter, asking me where I had procured such a finely crafted piece in hopes of any similar decorations. Surely that word of mouth would bring about more customers to your unjustifiably desolate business.” the psychic states, his faux lamenting breaking down the booth owners wavering stubbornness. “Mmm...Fine. How does 50 sound to you?” she soon gives in with. “That’s the spirit.” Novelle goes, watching gleefully as the old woman takes the glass dragon off the shelf.

Presenting the decoration before, the psychic of luck slides the money she requests for the piece onto the counter; the old woman handing the glass statue over to the man as she states how: “May this piece bring good fortune in your life.” “Oh don’t worry.” Once resting the statue in the man’s grasp, a deep piercing sensation surges across her midsection; the elderly woman’s eyes glowing alight as Novelle reaches into her very being. “I feel like its my lucky day.” The man bejeweled in yellow and black swiftly jerks his hand out from the woman’s stomach to extract a plump piece of star fruit out from her very being; a violating act of which she is left unaware of as her consciousness starts to return. Regaining her composure, the old woman is left confused as she watches her latest customer waltz away from her stand with not just the glass dragon, but a strange piece of fruit he begins to chomp down on. “What...what was I doing again?” she ponders, backing away towards the shelves holding the other figures. The old woman mistakenly backs away too fast and bumps right into the shelves hard enough to knock over the screws holding it up, spilling all the sculptures and figures upon her in a shattering glass avalanche; an unlucky cascade of which causes the rest of the booth to collapse on top of her, with nothing to remain but glass shards and pieces of the stand left scattered.

Perched atop a nearby rooftop, both Frida and Wedsle gaze down in awe upon witnessing this disastrous streak of terrible luck that had doomed the lonely glass sculptor; crawling back up into hiding as they bare the knowledge behind their foe’s abundance in good fortune. “Christ.” the dimensional psychic utters. “I know...You think he’d pull out faster with an old lady.” “Wedsle!” “Yeah, your right. Kind of weird how he’s in one to begin with, isn’t it.” “This is serious, dammit! We got somebody we can’t so much as touch hunting us down. As long as he’s stuffing his face on those fruits he keeps pulling out of people; our chance of even landing a hit on him might as well be next to zero.” “Believe it, I hear you. Which is why I got myself a little bit of a plan cooking up here.” the violet psychic claims, tapping on the side of his forehead. “And that is?” “This dick’s only after us? So we just gotta bait him in a situation where his good fortune can work in our favor.” “What does that even mean?”

Contrast to the string of bad luck his victims had been inflicted with, Novelle proves as happy as can be while inspecting the uniquely crafted glass dragon he had just purchased; his overwhelming supply of stolen fortune saving him for what would be numerous tragic accidents. When he was about to step on an open manhole, a plank of wood conveniently steps underneath his foot to save him from the fall. When a runaway tire is but moments away from rolling him down, taking a couple more steps is all it takes for the round rubber tire to just miss him. Once does he wind up slipping on a piece of discarded banana peel and is sent flipping back, but is soon saved as he unintentionally lands against the side of another person passing right by and rolls right over to land back on his feet, all the while the dragon he had just bought comfortably lands in his grasp. Each of these close calls he doesn’t even bat an eye towards, his casual attitude from it all further cementing how untouchable he felt.

And its during this incredible streak of luck that he narrowly evades Wedsle coming down upon him from the rooftops by simply stepping back; the violet psychic left to scrape his face against the concrete as he fumbles across the concrete. “You wanna try your luck going that again, or you think now might not be the time take your chances?” “Believe me, bitch; I got plenty more chance to take. Today is my lucky day.” declares the rising violet mobster. “We’ll see how much fortune you have to spare.”

Shaking off his rough landing, the purple psychic attempts a direct assault against his fortunate foe with a daring shoulder charge; Novelle not even so much as alarmed as the violet former mobster rapidly approaches. Just before Wedsle could reach the psychic of luck, the tire from earlier bounces back onto the scene and rolls right into him and smashes him back down onto the pavement; the man in yellow and black swirl letting out an amused chuckle from the blunder. “I’m telling you Weds. Whatever you try against me is bound to be thrust in the jaws of ill fortune.” “Yeah, lets see how long it takes for lady luck to change her mind. Girl’s more fickle than a prostitute picking which has deeper pockets.” the purple psychic declares, making another rash lunge against the man donning yellow and black.

Aiming to slug the smarmy son of a bitch right in his face, Wedsle recklessly swings his fist right in an effort to break the teeth out from his smug grin; yet winds up punching someone else’ clock in when they trip up and stumble right in the way of his fist. “Dammit!” Attempting once more to strike against the psychic of supreme fortune, the violet mobster takes another lunging swing; this time thrusting his fist right towards Novelle’s stomach, confident that he can’t possibly miss. But much to his dismay does Weds haphazardly step onto the exact same banana peel that his foe had slipped upon moments ago, the slippery peel sweeping the violet psychic off his feet and sending him fumbling towards the ground; a usual blunder that Novelle typically is amused by. But the lucky psychic’s amusement wavers when watching his violet foe land on his hand and flips right around to thrust his legs towards him with a lunging kick. Though once more does the smile of fortune shine upon the thief of luck, for when simply stepping over to the side does Novelle evade the violet psychic’s thrusting leap against him; Wedsle left to careen off towards another person unfortunate enough to stand in his way.

The psychic of luck sapping can’t help but let out a demeaning chuckle in watching his foe trying and failing to land even a single strike against him, finding it amusing how Wedsle hurts himself every time he tries. “I admire your stubborn determination, but at the same time I can’t help but feel sorry for you. It’s reminds be of those poor fools taking their chances in betting races and casino’s, dumping everything they have in their gambles for the minuscule chance of making back all they’ve put in ten fold. And in the end its that addictive hope for luck that turns into their very down fall. I suggest you heed their tales of misfortune and know when to fold.” “True. The sweet titty milk of lady fortune gives such an addicting high; not much of those poor motherfucker who drink of it can withdraw themselves from it in the midst of gambling.” the purple psychic claims, rising from the man he had unintentionally knocked down. “But that shit’s only true to those who play the game. And as your soon gonna find out, I’ve been the dealer of this poker game the whole time.”

“Excuse me?” “I’m on to your strategy, you son of a bitch. That ridiculous luck you’ve been flapping your dick sucking lips on about, ain’t an ounce of it is yours. Every single piece of it you pluck away from the people around you and devour like fruit ripe for harvesting. But much like greed’s voracious appetite, its never enough. All that luck you stockpile spoils sooner or later, forcing you to forage for more of lady lucks plump juicy fruits.” “Is there a point you’re getting to, or are you simply stalling for when your luck runs out?” asks Novelle. “My luck? You got shit backwards, man. Just look around you!” Upon the purple psychic suggesting such does his foe take a moment to gauge their surroundings, a fact that begins to creep up upon him was how barren and empty the once bustling market street had become during their skirmish. “There’s nobody here! The streets, the booths, they’re all empty! How? When?” the lucky psychic worryingly questions. “You seriously thought all those swings I took, I was aiming for you?”

Its in this comment that the thief of luck thinks back to all the times the purple psychic had attempting to assault him, his efforts constantly thwarted by the machinations of his stolen fortune. “Those people you ran into, and the tire…” Among remembering all these failed attacks that he remembers the violet psychic’s aura flaring up among his blunders, coating whatever and whoever had made contact with him in his signature fear inducing power. “So then…” “That’s right!” declares Wedsle with a satisfied grin.

From the violet psychic’s perspective after each of these failed attempt to attack his fortunate foe that the aura he had infused in the tire rolled gently into a couple of people watching the fight from the sidelines; the power spreading from the rubber tire and into who it had bumped into. Same can be said for the two people that the violet psychic had unintentionally struck, inflicting his power upon them as those nearby were kind enough to take them away from the ensuing conflict. Yet in their kind efforts does the overwhelming sensation of dread begin to take them, this hysterical fear demanding them to get away from the two psychic’s as fast as they can. And as these people pass by the dozens of others that have gathered, this paranoid causing dread seeps into every single person they touch; Wedsle influence in their negative emotions spreading swiftly across the crowd like a plague. “Even when I couldn’t hit you worth a damn, that wasn’t gonna slow me down! You’re whole winning streak won’t do shit with the deck stacked against you!” Upon realizing his well of potential victims had been drained dry, this newfound situation is enough to scare him into running away from the purple man he had just moments ago been bragging to; the satisfaction of witnessing this cocky son of a bitch fleeing from him being particularly delicious for Wedsle to taste as he gives chase.

Realizing the scales of fortune were beginning to tilt out of his favor, the man dressed in yellow and black desperately searches for a route to escape the violet psychic pursuing him; Novelle dashing straight towards the alleyway closest to him in hopes of an escape. Though his efforts to flee down this path are halted as several bullets come raining down before him to halt his fleeting escape; the psychic of luck glancing up from where the bullets have descended to discover the purple psychic’s partner perched atop the building nearby with an automatic assault rifle aimed down at him. Hearing the footsteps of his purple pursuer approaching, the thief of luck forgoes the alleyway in simply hurrying away further through the emptied street market; all the while Wedsle behind him lets out a sinister laugh before stating: “Let’s see how long your winning streak goes before your luck starts to run out.”

Nothing the echoing of Satette’s voice rings through the halls of the safehouse as she wonders around its corridors; the lively young woman peeking into every room she passes by as she shouts for: “Tuesco!? Tues, come on! I know it was a rough pill to swallow, but its not the end of the world; we can get through this!” Regret and worry begin to seep their way into Sat’s thoughts as she searches for where the former officer had secluded himself to; that concern growing with every empty room that she checks inside. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to bring up that sort of stuff. I mean, it hasn’t even been that long ago that he had to fight off the man he thought had his back for the longest time. Really, what do I even know talking about stuff like this; having your whole world turn upside down so drastically, so fast. I’ve lost people before, but him. He lost his entire life, all because of something beyond his control. Most people in the same spot would just give up...I better find him before that thought crosses his mind.

Its coming to the end of the corridor that the young woman comes to a door awaiting her; Satette slowly pushing her way through to enter upon a dimly lit private room; the only illumination piercing through the thick darkness being from lonely lamp atop the nearby table. At the edge of the lonely chambers sat Tuesco, staring to a collection of photo’s cascading down from his open wallet; some of these pictures depicting moments he had shared with his fellow officers. Their bright, happy smiles left tarnished by the knowledge of what they were doing behind his back. Shutting the door behind her, Satette strolls over to the forlorn man’s side and kneels down to softly greet with: “Hey.” To the young woman’s hello however, the depressed officer fails to muster even a word to say back to her; simply glancing at her before returning his eyes to the pictures. In attempting to steer away from the depressing silence, the lively psychic continues on with: “...Listen, I didn’t really gauge how much of what I said would effect you. I know it all went so fast, but something tells me you haven’t caught up yet.” Again, the dejected middle aged man refuses to say so much as a peep for her to respond to, instead letting out a small, but heavy-hearted sigh. “But that’s okay; its not the end of the world. Once we find a way to sneak you out of the city, you can work on doing something-

“You don’t understand.” Tuesco then cuts her off with, rising up from his seat to look down upon the young woman. “I’ve put half of my life into being an officer of the law, thinking I was actually defending peoples lives. It was something I wanted to do since I was a little kid, I pictured myself saving others, making a difference for them. But in the end, it turned out to be just that, nothing but the fleeting dreams of an optimistic kid. This whole time, thinking I was doing some good in this sleazy city, I was just another unaware cog of its machine, all while I was blissfully none the wiser.” “Well..you know now.” “Yeah, but at what cost?” he recants, glaring down to the photo collection in his hands.

Another heavy sigh escapes him as he passes by the young woman, the melancholic former cop trudging towards the door with wallet full of photo’s in hand; his hand stopping just short of the doorknob before hearing Sat claim how: “You’re not the only one here whose life got swept from under them.” “Your talking about Thurs, right?” “I’m talking about all of us. Thurs wasn’t the only one who ended up here from stuff we couldn’t control. Frida, she use to be well respected CIA agent until she got pinned for stealing evidence to a critical case, getting kicked off for something that wasn’t even her fault.” “Yeah?” “And me...I lost my dad to the mob because he saw something he wasn’t supposed to. I even lost my girlfriend not to long ago because of this shit.” “Oh...I’m sorry.” Tuesco apologizes, turning his head towards her.

“But at least we had those chances for our lives to go somewhere; some people don’t even get that much. Wedsle, didn’t; but he’s still going. From minute one, it was hard for him. Dumped at the feet of a dying orphanage when just a little tot; left with no one to lean on growing up. Once that place shut down, he got tossed to the streets; left at the mercy of whatever to throw at him. He constantly had to fight off others just so he could have the littlest of bare necessities, and people looked down on him for it. People and police alike, all they saw him as was nothing but a little criminal; when at heart he was just a kid; lost, alone, and afraid. Wedsle never even had the chance for his life to be ruined, he never had one to begin with. But...even after all that, going through the worst of it so early. He still kept going, he didn’t think about giving up; never so much as crossed his mind. And it wasn’t until he found Monty and joined the mob that things started to look up for him. Even when the world was hostile to him, even when it never so much as gave him a moment of peace, he kept fighting and eventually found a life for himself; all with people who loved him.”

The man is left silent over the young lady’s tale concerning the hardships her friends had faced; Tues returning his gaze over to the door. “What I’m trying to say is...don’t quit because things feel like their worst. I promise you, even with your life turned upside down, it can be flipped back up. So, please; don’t think about what has been...Think about what can be.” All that remained drifting within the dimly lit room was nothing but silence after her words, a stance quiet that begins to wear against Sat’s hopes. But all that begins to return when Tuesco lets the light of the hallway on the other side flood the room, turning back to her with a soft grin and asking: “So, should be go back to practice?” The man’s continuing conviction and determination brings out a warm smile from Satette.

The lime hooded pickpocket’s breath starts to run dry among fleeing from the young man he had pilfered from, glancing back over to the guy to find Thursotte slowly beginning to catch up; the thief quickly inspecting the streets around him as he attempts to think of a way to lose this guy. Its among his search that the thief lays eyes upon an abandoned traditional Chinese 2 story home left in shambles and forgotten through years of neglect; the cracked brickwork and shattered glass suggesting poor structural integrity, like the whole place was simply waiting to fall apart. A perfect place to try and shake off this guy. Without even a moment of hesitant does the thief in the lime hood race straight through the busted down front door of the abandoned abode, with the psychic of Murphy’s law sprinting straight after him.

The dust collected within the home throughout the countless years is sent flying with every swift step the two of them make in their pursuit, the swept up clouds glimmering against the sunlight beaming through the broken windows. As the two dash through the disheveled living room, Thursotte swipes up half of a broken table lamp right off the top of a smashed in old box Television; infusing its broken glass and metal in his power as he chases his thief into the hallway. Catching the hooded pickpocket sprinting straight through the hall, Thurs attempts to stop the guy by chucking the busted light appliance right at him; the lime hood thief turning the corner just before the lamp could hit him, instead crashing into the corner before breaking into shards. Indentured in missing, Thursotte leaps right over the mess of glass left behind by the broken lamp as he turns the corner after his pickpocket; left unaware of the forming cracks through the wall as his energy spreads.

Among their race through the desolate dirty hallway, Thurs yanks a broken picture frame off the wall and runs his chaotic power into its busted wood as he watches the fleeting thief jump up towards the stairs. Like a tossed out piece of trash, he chucks the picture frame up at the hooded thief racing up the steps; his upward throw unfortunately streaking right beside the pickpocket and crashing right against one of the steps. Still, Thurs refuses to let this stop him from continuing his pursuit and makes leaps over several steps in climbing up to the top of the staircase; Thursotte racing into the upstairs hall as the set of stairs start to cave in under his orange aura.

Out from the upstairs hall do both the thief and his pursuing victim hurry into a two way bathroom, plastered in slippery green grime and mold built up over the years; all of which the two of them wind up sliding on in their hurry through. While the thief is sent slipping into the bath tub, Thursotte winds up sliding right behind the broken toilet; the both of them hurrying to pull themselves off the floor before the other could stand back up. As Thurs slides out from behind the grimy porcelain throne, he snatches up the toilet wand left sitting against the wall and infuses his power in it before throwing it towards the shower curtain rod; the rod’s rusty hinges failing to take the blow as it comes falling down upon the rising thief. But even suffering this blow does the pickpocket refuse to cease fleeing as he jumps out from the bathtub and head straight through the door on the other side; Thursotte continuing to chase after, all while fractures in the ceiling start to form.

Emerging from the bathroom do the two run into the confines of an emptied out bedroom; the thief scampering around every corner in search of an exit among this part of the neglected home among the boarded up windows. But when finding not one open for him to leap from, he spots the door in the corner of the room and makes a swift lunge over to grasp at the knob; a sense of fright crawling through the pickpockets skin when the rust covered knob barely even moved an inch. “Finally.” the hooded thief hears, turning back to find the man he stole from standing behind him. “I got you right where I want you. Now its time to-” Yet before another word could escape from Thursotte’s lips, the two begin to hear the sound of wood breaking apart and rubble crumbling throughout the integral structure; a terrible dread tingling down their spines as they look to one another, realizing what disaster they had been caught in. The very moment the two attempt to bolt straight towards the boarded window does the ceiling above their heads collapse; entire chunks of the roof falling upon them in a torrential downpour of aged rubble and wood.

The people that happen to pass by start to gather when witnessing the old battered home crumble in on itself; a plume of dust wafting through the streets upon its collapse. When the clouds soon part do the several people that have gathered find nothing left of the old abode but debris of what once stood, with the house and all that had stood within now buried underneath the chunks of its aged remains; nothing but utter silence haunts the streets surrounding this freshly destroyed abode.

The small crowd is astonished when the blue a pile of roof chunks begin to tremble; the rocks falling as a hand emerges out from beneath the debris. From this hand does an arm cloaked in a torn lime sleeve rise breach the rubble; following, the simple pickpocket donned in the lime green hood digging out from the rocks and limping away from the wreckage. He doesn’t make it far however before the injuries he took among the destruction get the better of him as he fumbles onto another pile of broke wood and bricks. As the thief struggles to pull himself from the rubble, a shadow creeps over to loom over him; the hooded pickpocket turning back to discover the man he had robbed from standing above him. His orange glowing eyes burn brightly among the darkness cast by the buildings around them as he looks down upon the lime hooded man, leaning down closer to the downed thief before asking: “Can I have my key back now?” An audible yelp escapes from the thief’s mouth as he frantically digs into his pants pocket to quickly pull out the bronze key he had pilfered from Thurs; the pickpocket throwing the finely engraved key over to the young man and pleads: “Take it, already! Just get away from me, you maniac!” Finally relinquishing the key back to its rightful owner, the pickpocket pulls himself off the pile of debris before quickly limping away, Thursotte picking the bronze key off the ground before he yells back to the guy: “Thank you!”

After slipping the key back into his own pants pocket, he begins to feel a thick malice build up in the air and peers back to the crowd gathered among the streets; their enraged and furious stares beating down against him as growls and snarls escape from their teeth. “Hey, wait! I saw this guy earlier around the corner outside the market! He knocked the corner of a building onto the road and cut out the power over there.” “I saw him in the park too! Guy broke a basketball hoop and ruined the entire playground!” “He tore apart the tree’s and left the shrine in utter ruins.” “And now he’s gone and destroyed old Fen whey’s old home! She had just died of a stroke like two week’s ago!” “This menace has gone too far! He’s left our community in shambles! The police will have a field day with this!” “Forget the cops! They can’t bring the sort of justice this monster deserves! Lets just do it ourselves!” “Oh...Oh no…” utters Thursotte, the crowd beginning to come down upon him.

Frantically dashing through the barren marketplace with the purple psychic on his tail, Novelle makes a sharp turn around the street corner; the desperation plaster on his face deflating when discovering beyond the corner an entire shipping yard filed with countless people working in shipping and packing up numerous uniquely made items, foods, and spices the likes of which could only be found in this oriental slice of the city. The lucky psychic’s face beaming as he sees among them not honest working people, but potential crops he could harvest among these metaphorical dry lands that bare no fruit. Though even with his luck fueled salvation in site, the fire on his ass in the form of the violet traitor refuse to let up; Wedsle beginning to close the distance between them as he sprints after. “Looks like your ride on the fucking fortune express is about to come to a violent, crashing halt. I’d wager you got only a couple more puffs in the engine before you make the last stop against my fist.” the purple psychic claims. “I’m not out of this horse race just yet; I’m putting everything I have on this one final bet, and when it pays off; I’m not playing nice anymore.” “You mean “if” it pays off, you shit eating son of a bitch!”

Among the chase does the man in yellow and black take a sudden turn right into the street corner, the violet traitor following right after to witness his pursuit frantically climb up the fire escape of an apartment complex; Wedsle leaping up this escape in attempting to catch up. Yet the very moment Weds clutches the ladder do the screws holding it together swiftly fall out of their rivets; the entire fire exit beginning to fall apart underneath Novelle’s feet as he climbs towards the roof. The purple psychic leaps out from the plummeting pieces of grated steel; helpless but to watch as his target makes it to the top of the apartment complexes roof just when the whole thing comes tumbling down. “Shit. Frida! Your up!” the Wedsle declares. Upon her purple partners words does Frida merge into the wall of the taller building from across the street, partially coming out of the brick wall with a sniper rifle in hand; the spot she hangs off the wall from lending the gun woman a good position to aim towards their fleeting foe.

Dashing across the roof of the complex does the thief of luck stop just short of the edge, glaring down to see the busy shipping yard right next door to the apartment; the numerous people handling and delivering packages tantalizing to his eyes. But when anxiously looking through the yard, Novelle fail to find anywhere to safely jump down upon; nothing but the hard wood of countless wooden crates littering the sides of the facility. “So close. Just need somewhere to-” Yet its when attempting to gauge for a safe spot to land, the stinging sensation of fiery hot steel pierces through his abdomen from behind when a single sniper shot is fired right into the side of his stomach. “Bam, right in the kidney beans.” cheers Frida. A terribly cold dread rings through his body as the man in yellow and black clutches the part of his stomach where he had been shot, letting out sharply pained grunt as he stumbles along the side of the rooftop. His footing soon slips away among the frightening pain, sending him plummeting down towards the shipping yard and crashing down into a pile of crates.

Everyone in the shipping center is left astonished as the man drops down onto the crates with a harsh collapsing slam; those nearby quick to inspect the scene and are left alarmed to discover Novelle left atop the piles of broken boxes. “Oh my god! Someone got hurt!” “Where did he even come from?” “I saw him drop down from roof.” “That looked like a real nasty fall.” Among the employee’s worrying chatter, one of them takes a closer look to find the man still breathing despite the nasty crash; her weariness escalating when finding scarlet staining the side of his jacket. “Someone get a first aid kit and call 911! This guys in pretty bad shape!” “Our phones are inside, hurry!” Upon these demands do a few of the yard employee’s race right back into the building of the facility as the others gather around to attempt and aid the man that had fallen into their laps; a couple of them hearing the guy let out a soft groan and pointing out how: “He’s still awake?” The employee that had first come to him tries to get some information out from this injured stranger with questions like: “What happened to you!? Where did you get shot at!?” Its in her concern that she sees one of the man’s eye suddenly open wide; the glare he inflicts against not one of helplessness or pleading, but rather the gaze of a predator, having discovered an entire smorgasbord of prey to feast upon.

Within the building of the shipping yard do the two employee’s that rushed in darts through the hall and dart to the door of the break room; their sites sliding right over to a bunch of phones left on the counter to charge. As one of them darts right over to these phones, the other employee races over to the first aid kit hung along the wall, prying the case right off the wall as the other takes one of the phones and darts to dail 911. But the very moment he taps the last digit does the employee feel something clutch at his shoulder and force him to turn around, shocked to find another man dressed in violet standing right in front of him. “Sorry about this, buddy.” he apologizes with. Before the employee could even so much as wonder what this intruder means by this, distress and panic begin to quickly flood his very thoughts; countless anxieties, worries, and fears all gushing to the surface all at once like an emotional geyser of bad emotions. Such a sudden rush of terrible feeling hitting him all at once was enough to make the poor guy pass out.

Glaring back towards the other employee, Wedsle could tell she was moments away from screaming bloody murder the moment he approaches; so rather than take that chance, he digs into his pocket to pull out nothing but a single penny and sets it in between his fingers. The violet psychic fills its copper with his purple power before he flicks it right towards the frighten woman, the employee flinching when the single cent coin lightly hits her head. But the very moment that the penny taps against her does a flurry of stress inducing emotions flood into her brain all at once; the woman rapidly breathing faster and faster before she suddenly passes out from the emotional affliction.

With both of these loose ends quickly taken care of, Wedsle dashes right out from the break room and down the hallway; hurrying towards the back of the building in his race into the facility’s shipping yard. Frida say’s she got the guy right in the kidney beans, but knowing what a lucky bastard like that can do, he probably tanked the hit and his still hanging on. So I gotta flush down this shit head before his signature style of luck goes and throws a wrench in the plumbing.

When purple psychic busts through the door leading out into the ship yard, he comes to a terrible site awaiting him. All of the employees that had gathered to aid the luck driven psychic all lay unconscious across the hard concrete; the man bejeweled in yellow and black standing among them as he clutches the neck of one of in his hands, with the other driven deep into his body with a bright pink luminescence. From this glow does the man of good fortune tear out from the depths of the employees being a plump star fruit; Novelle gazing upon its tantalizing juices with sinister glee as he tosses away the man he took it from like a used shell.

“What the fuck!? How are...You took a bullet to the kidney’s, how are you still standing!?” Wedsle demands his foe to answering. “Yeah, funny story I forgot about til now. About half a year ago, I wound up going on a big booze binge with some of my friends and wound getting alcohol poisoning. Thought for the longest time, it was the lowest point in my streak of fortune; that for a brief moment, lady luck shunted me. But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise this whole time, waiting to go off until the moment I needed it the most. That spot where your bitch friend shot me, right in the kidneys; I had to have one of them ripped out of me!” A maniacal laughter can’t help but escape from the psychic of luck as he takes a voracious bite out of the star fruit he had just plundered; the fruits juices drooling down his chin as he chews and chuckles. “Even in my lowest points, she keeps looking out for me!”

Fed up with this lucky son of a bitch’s prattling, Wedsle makes a daring charge towards the psychic of supreme fortune; reaching over towards the juicy piece of fruit in his foe’s hand. The moment he attempts to close in on the man donned in yellow and black does one of the employee’s on the ground start to rise right in front of the violet mobster; Novelle leaping back as Weds winds up running straight into this unfortunate fellow, both of them falling back onto the concrete as the man of luck makes his distance. Swiftly pulling himself off the floor does Wedsle follow after the fortunate bastard right into an entire maze made from the dozens of packages and goods that have yet to be shipped.

The violet psychic keeps up the pace as he pursues his fortune driven foe around the twist and turns of the wooden crate labyrinth; an effort that Novelle attempts to foil by tackling the wall of boxes beside him and break open what crates he passes by. Within these boxes do stuff like decorations, industrial machine pieces, kitchenware, fine China, all of which spill down against the purple traitor in his feverish pursuit; Wedsle refusing to falter as he tanks the downpour of small miscellaneous items. Despite the purple pest continuing to chase after him, Novelle refuses to let up in knocking over every single crate he can in attempting to put distance between them; one box he topples down breaking open to unleash a plum of spices and seasoning that the purple psychic simply dashes through. Its shortly after passing right by that cloud of spice that Wedsle starts to feel a shallow, but stinging pain crawl across his very skin; the pieces of seasoning having slipped into the small cuts made from what had spilled onto him. This however fails to deter him from continuing to pursue the luck stealing psychic and fights through the seething pain as he starts to close the gap between each other.

Blinded by the cloud of savory and spicy seasonings getting in one of his eyes, the purple psychic ends up running right into a wall made of large wooden crates in his reckless dash after his fortunate foe; Wedsle slamming in the boxes hard enough to topple a column of them tumbling behind him, closing off the way the two had come in from. With one eye blinded by stinging spices, the violet psychic keeps the other locked right at his pursuit as he sees the man in the yellow and black jacket streak through the corridor of boxes; Weds darting after the lucky bastard as he watches him turn the corner.

Following after Novelle around the very same corner, Wedsle stopped in his tracks when witnessing his target knock over a particularly large crate off the top of a nearby stack; the box breaking open upon landing for its contents to come spilling out: an entire collection of fireworks that scatter across the floor. “Ooooh.” the luck stealing psychic gleefully cheers with a grin. “Shit!” curses Wedsle, making a desperate bolt after his foe. Smugly confident in his overabundance of luck, the psychic of fortune rips the lid off a crate right beside him to reveal within whole packs of match sticks; a site of which makes him do a complete 180 and frantically bolt back towards the corner. With the surplus of sticks does Novelle simply just take one of them and flicks it against the package to ignite a small flame, casually tossing the lit match right into the spilled pile of volatile fireworks before leaping back around the corner right behind him. It takes only moments for the lit match stick to ignite the fuse for one of these fireworks, causing a chain reaction that starts to set off the entire bundle; Wedsle leaping around the corner right in the nick of time as they crack off. Throughout the entire block can this barrage of colorful explosions be witnessed by every single person that was simply driving on through this side of the district; a display that ferments concern and worry among the people who bare witness.

Among taking cover from the explosive chaos, Wedsle glares over to the opposite side to see the way out blocked out by the crates he had knocked over earlier; a predicament that boxes him in with the wildly unpredictable explosions happening right around the corner. Dumbass doesn’t know how you use fireworks? You don’t send them flying over. With a rising leap up, the purple psychic starts to scale up the wall of shipping crates and makes a climb up towards the top of the stack You send them rocketing straight to the skies.

Yet among Wedsle’s ascent up towards the top of the wall made of crates, a wayward rocket comes zipping out from around the corner and blows up in a blindingly flash of sparks; the violet psychic seething as some of these sparks singe against his side. Fighting through the fiery sensation beating against his skin, Wedsle scuttles up to the top of the stack and gauges the view of the entire maze; eyeing up the route his fortunate foe had taken in escaping from the explosion of fireworks. With little time to carefully run along the top of the crates, Wedsle instead opts to take bounding leaps right over the gaps set in between the makeshift labyrinth; taking jump after jump towards where Novelle scurry off to.

After several leaps and bound over the walls of the wooden crate maze, Wedsle delves back in to descend down before the fortune pilfering psychic; Novelle himself nearly fumbling over as he manically dashes away from his purple pursuer. In his frantic hast does the lucky psychic wind up running right onto the wall of boxes hard enough to shake those at the top over the edge; the wood holding the crate together breaking as he crashes onto the hard concrete in front of him. Novelle glances back to what he had knocked over and is ecstatic for a baseball pitcher on wheels with a portable single switch generator; all of which packed with an entire gallon filled with standard issue baseballs. Rushing right over to the misplaced machine like a giddy kid with a fresh new toy, the lucky psychic flips the switch to the portable generator attached to the pitching machine before aiming its baseball sized barrel right towards the violet traitor; a naughty giggle escaping from him before he switches the pitcher on and unleashes the barrage of baseballs against his foe. Several of these ball fly right past his head as Wedsle darts away from the rapid fire pitching machine; a couple of them hitting him right in the back before he takes a tight turn around the corner; his fortune steal foe aiming to pelt him with more as he races after with the pitcher at his side.

The script is flipped out from his favor as the purple pursuer was now the one being feverishly pursued, taking turns left and right through the crate maze as the man in black and yellow he had been chasing was now after him, frenetically blasting out baseball after baseball at him from the pitcher he rolls with. “What’s the matter, Weds? Getting tired of this streak of bad luck, well you better get used to it. Forget broken mirrors and black cats; the sort of shitty luck you’ll get facing me will make you wish you were in casino debt.” the psychic of luck taunts as he purses. Fucking pitcher, generator, and ammo all in one convenient box? The number of ass pulls this guy has done would be enough to make anal play porn stars blush. Frida should have everything ready by now, so all that’s left is to get this dick head into position. Shouldn’t be hard; the way this dipshit’s chasing me, he’ll never see the surprise we have in store for him coming. A strategy set in for the son of a bitch pursing him, Wedsle leads his fortunate foe through the makeshift maze of crates like a donkey with a carrot on a string; all the while Novelle himself is too occupied in his luck fueled high to realize, continuing to fire out more and more baseballs against the violet psychic in a frenzy

Turn after turn does Weds make through the maze with the manic mobster on his tail, enduring the hard balls that are pelted against his body as he trails them both towards the corner of the labyrinth. But among the frantic chase does the pitching machine Novelle pursues the violet traitor with finally run out of ammunition; the lucky psychic almost immediately discarding the piece of equipment like a used piece of garbage. The psychic of stolen fortune then finds his purple pursuit making a swift scale up to the top of the boxes Determined to not let the tables turn away from him, the thief of luck quickly scoops up a discarded baseball from the pavement and throws it right at the climbing purple psychic; the ball streaking right beside Wedsle to instead bust open the lid of the crate in front of him. From the depths of the broken crate do a collection of minuscule bugs burst out from within, sprinkling all over the violet psychic body; Wedsle looking closely to one of the insects that crawl across his hand to see that they’re: “Ants? Ant farm?” But in a cruel twist of fate, he soon realizes that these are no normal ants when one of them stings his skin with enough of a pain to make him nearly fall off the stack of crates; Weds quickly scaling up towards the top as he suffers the agonizing sting from the dozens of ants crawling across his body. “Aggh, bullet ant farm! What kind of twisted fuck would ship bullet ants!?” Seeing the cavalcade of painful stinging insects not even slowing his foe down, Novelle decides to races right towards the same stack of crates and begins to climb after his purple pursuit; exuding a confident smile as he scales to the top of the wooden boxes.

After glancing back to see the psychic of pilfered fortune greedily tail him, Wedsle peers off to the side of the crates he runs across to gauge along the outside edge of the maze; shaking off the numerous ants that crawl across his body. So close. Just a couple more yards. In his straightforward race across the row of stacks crates does he witness a bolt of steel zip right beside him before impaling itself in one of the wooden crates, Weds glancing back once again to be shocked at the site of his pursuer wielding a loaded industrial nail gun directly at him. “For fuck sake, where you keep finding this shit!?” the purple psychic can’t help but exclaim. The violet psychic is kept on his toes as he runs from the barrage of nails that are fired from behind, hopping around the sides of the stacks in an effort to keep these nails from hitting him; yet he again proves to not be as lucky with his evasion, as a couple of bolts end up hitting him in the shoulder. In spite of these few nails impaling into him, Wedsle refuses to halt for even a moment as he keeps site an eye to the outer edge of the wall of crates both he and his fortunate foe walk along. Almost there!

The thief of luck’s barrage of bolts comes to an abrupt end when his nail gun suddenly runs out of ammunition, with nothing but the clicks of the trigger coming out from the tool; these clicks are what queue Wedsle to stop and make a complete turn around to face his approaching pursuer. His fortunate foe is alarmed over his unexpected stop and stumbles right into his awaiting grasp, Novelle nonetheless remaining calm as he anticipates whatever his boundless luck could bestow him in this unexpected turnaround. The very moment Wedsle has his fortune foe in his clutches, his stomach drops when feeling a sharp pain plunge against him; the violet psychic glaring down to see the broken remains of what once was a dragon figure carved from glass embedded into his side. This unfortunate set of circumstances has his foe let out an amused chuckle as he start to drive the sharp glass deeper into Wedsle’s torso, Novelle feeling the purple psychic tremble as he lay in his grasp. “Its astonishing how fickle the wheel fortune plays; each of us at the mercy of this never ending game of chance. And it seems the hands of fate have triumphed for me once again, and on your final gambit too. It would be cruel for man mired in misfortune such as yourself continue to live through this unfortunate future; perhaps your prove to be luckier in the next life, so to grant you mercy, I shall snuff out yours right now!” boasts the psychic of stolen fortune.

“Good god. Pricks like you are always so damn predictable.” claims Wedsle, grasping his foe’s hand to pull away the broken glass. “What was that?” “You’re right about one thing. I haven’t exactly been lucky in this game of chance we all have to call life, almost everything I had to fight tooth and nail for; probably could right a fucking limerick over how shit my run of luck has been. But its with all of it that one lesson has cemented in my mind.” “And what would that be?” “Making the best of a bad situation!” Its upon hearing this statement from him that his foe suddenly sweeps Novelle right off his feet and tosses him down off the side of the stack of crates; the thief of luck rapidly descending down towards the inside of a big open crate, but his fall down into the depths of his box is cushioned by a line ultra thick packaging meant for extremely fragile items.

While relieved over his save from this nasty fall, the lucky son of a bitch gaze up from the depths of the box to brag how: “Well, seems like your situation as gone from bad to worse; if you were hoping I would get personal with the pavement, than you dead wrong. This pillow like foam saved my skin from taking a nasty fall. And from the way things are going, my lucks not running out anytime soon.” To this boasting can Wedsle not help but let out a confident chuckle as he looks down upon his foe held within the padded crate, an expression of which takes the fortunate foe aback. “Its fucking hilarious how blinded you are by your boundless luck, refusing to see the seeds of your downfall already sprouting. Of course I knew chucking a fortunate fucker like you wasn’t gonna work, I knew there would be some sort of bullshit that would save your sorry neck. Which is why I thought to make your luck work in our favor.” “What?”

Before the psychic of stolen fortune could even so much as wonder what his violet foe could mean by this somewhat cryptic statement, the gun woman that was with him emerges out from the side of the crate with a padded crate lid in her grasp;  the light beaming into the inside of the crate being snuffed away as the top is swiftly slammed shut. Try as Novelle might to push at the top of his close call turned unexpected prison in hopes of a swift escape, it already proves too late as the lid refuses to so much as budge; the top already being bolted down as he struggles to move it. Armed with a nail gun, Frida slides all across the top of the crate punching nails along the rim to keep their foe trapped within locked in; his anxious screams growing quieter the more the lid is fastened.

“That soft foam you thought was your saving grace will end up as you worst nightmare. The sort of insulation your cushioned in is enough to trap even the loudest screams coming from the highest pitched little shits on the side of the daycare. And pounding your way out to get attention, with the weak ass arms you got; phfft, forget it.  I doubt a single souls that comes back to work tomorrow’s gonna hear you scream, you little pissant.” “Nonononono-” frantically begs the psychic of stolen fortune, his desperate pleading cut short as Frida nails down the last of the bolts to tightly secure the lid. After she finishes putting in as many nails to the edges of the lid as it could fire, the dimensional psychic emerges out from the side of the box before she slaps a sticker right on the crate’s side; the sticker being a label saying: “This package is to be shipped to “Singapore”.” “Hope you get a good view from the great wall of China.” the violet psychic taunts. “Wedsle, the great wall isn’t even anywhere near Singapore.” Frida corrects. “He doesn’t have to know that.”

Leaping down from atop the wall of stacked crates, Wedsle lands back onto solid concrete to meet back with Frida waiting by the box they stuffed their foe into; a slight hiss seeping out from between his teeth when he lands. The violet psychic gives himself a split second to breathe before he peers back to his gun toting partner and suggests: “Whelp, since we took care of that; lets snoop around Broadway to see if there any juicy intel to scope out.” “You...You sure you don’t wanna take a minute to...rest or something.” disconcertingly asks Frida. “I don’t think we have that kind of time. Who knows if the mob’s got any more of their loyal little bitches stationed here.  Beside, I ain’t that fucked up. Just look at me.” To this suggestion, the gun woman’s concern only grows as she beholds the bruises and cuts littered across her purple partners body; the pieces of seasoning and spices making the injuries he had suffered pulse and quiver as Wedsle musters the strength to keep standing. “Lets at least stop by a clinic first.”

The air solidifying psychic attempts to hold complete concentration and mental prowess as he focuses in forming the air itself into what shape he wants; specifically, his aura morphing into the form of a full fledged sword. Satette watches him in anticipation as he holds his concentration to the exercise at hand, intrigued over the progress he’s made so far since this morning. Drips of sweat run down Tuesco’s forehead in commanding the cerulean power slithering out, fighting through the rising migraine as he keeps is thoughts focused in controlling the air itself. With refined concentration and sharpened mentality, Tuesco manages to shape his dark blue aura to hold the complete shape of a long sword and starts to draw in the air around them into this mold; a sharp hiss echoing through the room as he vacuums the air into his power. The new psychic lets out strenuous grunts from between his teeth as he channels every ounce of brain power; a blinding flash illuminating the entire room, one that forces the lively psychic watching to look away.

Once this bright light soon fades, Satette peers back to their air solidifying psychic and gazes in awe to witness his power having crafted a straight sword out from the very air around them; Tuesco feeling up the weapon as it slowly hovers into his grasp. The hilt, crudely crafted, but solid like a rock. The grip, bumpy and course, but still able to be held. And the blade itself, somewhat dulled, but still considerably sharp enough to make a cut on his finger. “Ah.”

“You actually did it, you made a fully fledged weapon from thin air!” cheers Sat. “But it doesn’t feel right. I don’t think I can see myself using this.” doubts Tuesco. “That’s okay. The fact you manage to make it in the first place is a huge first step. If you could make a sword, imagine what other things you can mold. Hell, with some more practice, I bet you could make stuff more complex, like a hammer, or even a ladder; the possibility are endless for you.” “Yeah…” he utters, peering to the invisible blade he holds in his grasp.

“Thanks for that stuff you said earlier. About needing to keep going.” Tuesco then thanks her. “Uh, no problem. Its just a part of life we gotta deal with. Listen, I don’t want to make you stay in this city and fight for us; that’s up to you. But I could tell that when you were a police officer, you didn’t care about statue or power; all you wanted to do was make sure people were okay.  I can respect the fact that you just want to leave, I do. But I can’t lie and say that you would be missing the chance to make the biggest changes that could effect the people of this city.” “You...you think so.” “Of course. Why else would be willingly facing down the biggest crime syndicate in New York. Just...something to think about, okay?” With these words of thought does the lively psychic make her way out the room to leave Tuesco to his thoughts; the former officer of the law staring to the grip of his freshly made blade; contemplating of what he should do with this awesome power over air.

The near quiet tranquility of a Chinese herbal shop is shaken as the purple psychic, wrapped in gauze and bandages, slaps his hands on the counter and fiercely asks the elderly woman behind it: “You host a shop in the middle of the most well known city of the United state. What the fuck do you mean you don’t speak English!?” But rather than answer him directly, the old woman simply points to a sign set along the side of the counter displaying the message: “The owner of this establishment understands and speaks exclusively in Chinese. Please translate or make your way to the exit.” “Fucking...I never understand how hard it is for people coming over here to bother learning a little bit of English; its one of the easiest languages to-” “Wedsle, Weds, easy there. How about before you go sticking your dick in that hornets nest, you let me handle this.” Frida stops him with. “Kay, fine. Don’t know what makes you think you’ll have better luck than me.”

Waltzing past her purple partner, Frida clears her throat before she stands before the counter and begins to converse with the old woman in Chinese, managing to strike up a conversation with the elder; Wedsle left dumbfounded as he stands back as he watches the two banter with each other, all the while not understanding a single word neither of them say. A couple laughs, a couple gasps, and a couple of nods later and Frida soon parts away from the counter while waving the old woman goodbye, telling her purple partner to: “Come on, Weds.” “Um...o-okay…” he utters, following Frida out from the herbal shop. The door to the shop closing behind them, the first thing that Wedsle asks the dimensional psychic is: “When did you learn to speak Chinese?” “The CIA I worked at has a prerequisite that has you learn a second language for international affairs.” “And you chose Chinese because…?” “I thought it sounded neat.”

“So...what all did she tell you?” Wedsle gets back on track with. “Not to much honestly. Just told me about how some people from the mob stop by here from time to time to collect shipments from overseas; they get their product and she gets to keep in business.” “Names, any at all?” “She did mention how most of her shipments are addressed to one guy in particular, but always sends someone else to collect them, never the guy himself. The dude getting them goes by an alias too, something you normally wouldn’t think of. Not any kind of name that would get lost among the countless others like, John, Ben, Samantha. Nah, guy seriously calls himself “Dr. December” I mean, of all the names you could make up for yourself, why the hell would you name yourself after the most festive time of the...year?” Among the cusp of her mocking statement, Frida jovial demeanor wanes when peering back to her purple partner; taken aback by the mixture of astonishing shock and dreading terror plastered on his face. “Um...Did you-did you hear something or-”

“I didn’t mishear you, right? You seriously said Dr. December?” he wearily question. “Um...Yeah. What are you-” “Are you fucking kidding me!? He’s real!?” “Whoa, easy there, man. The hell’s this guy got you wound up for?” “You’ve been with us for how long? And you seriously haven’t heard about him?” “Uh...N-no. Why?” “I-I seriously thought that he was just a myth. A legend told to fresh meat to make them shit their pant and keep them from going out of line.” “Myth? Who do people think this guy is?” “Well, nobody besides the higher ups have never so much as lay eyes upon him. So everyone under them only has the horror stories to go by.” “And those stories would involve…”

“The kind of shit that would make your bowels sink. From what little people hear, they say he’s a brilliant technological engineer; twisted by malice and hate over the world abandoning him at his most dire. When the mob heard word about this man’s forsaken potential, they scooped him up almost instantly and put him in a line of work that made his mind, and their criminal escapades flourish. With nothing but cold hard steel, his great intellect, and the psychic powers bestowed to him, he had mutilated what parts of his own body failed him and grafted in their place chilling and complex machinery; crafting the kind of technology the regular basic bitch would find only in the realm of sci-fi. It’s after years of experimenting on his own body, he had become more machine than man; left as nothing but a mess of internal organs stuffed in the cold unfeeling shell of a robotic abomination. Regardless if theirs a shred of humanity left in him, the mob nonetheless keep him under their research and development division, having craft software and tech the likes of which hold every piece of technology in this entire city in their hands.”

“Damn, way to build a reputation.” comments Frida “And if that reputation turns out to be real, we’re in a lot more trouble then we thought. With every piece of tech under his command; the bastard could be watching us right now.” Wedsle claims, his eyes fixed to a security camera perched upon the corner of the building. “We got the info we need; lets just get Thurs and get the fuck out of here.” “Speaking of which, where is Thurs? He was supposed to meet us back where we…” Frida starts to question, her word dropping off when gazing down street.

A look down the very same street as the dimensional psychic, Wedsle peers over to discover their chaos causing partner rapidly approaching; the panic in Thursotte’s face clear to read as he nears. “Yo Thurs, we’re heading back. You still got the-” “Make a break for it!” they both hear the young man scream. “Jeez, the hell’s his deal?” the purple psychic ponders. Gazing back over to the very street that Thurs had bolted from, Frida confusion quickly turns to alarm as she turns her purple partners over to share in the same site; Wedsle left just as astonished to discover a giant mob of people marching straight towards their direction. The anger and rage in their eyes making it clear to the two that they weren’t looking to start a parade.

The furious crowd tailing behind him, Thursotte puts every ounce of energy he had left into sprinting away like there was no tomorrow; his breath left course and short after running through the rest of the district in chasing after the key. Among his dashing escape do both Wedsle and Frida manage to quickly catch up to his side, the dimensional psychic being the first of the two to question: “What the hell happened!?” “Iwaswatchingthekey, thenaguystoleitandIchasedhimaround! Itriedstoppinghimabunchoftimes, butwoundupwreckingthepark, acornerofastreet, ashrine, andanolddeceasedguyshome! I’msorry!” the young man frantically answers without so much as a single pause. “Oh, Thurs.” “Did you at least get the key back?” Weds asks him. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. It should be right...Here!” Thursotte claims, pulling out the key from the depths of his pocket. “Yoink.” Weds exclaims as he swipes the key away.

The runaway trio then stop right at the face of a locked door, Wedsle inching the bronze key back to the safehouse to the lock as he jests how: “And behold at the misshapen key glides seamlessly into the hole like a pig screw shapped dick slipping in a-” “JUST PUT THE FUCKING KEY IN THE-” “Alright, fine, god. Can’t give a man a moment to dick around, huh.” Jamming the bronze key right in the doors key hole does the wooden door glows a distinct red; the three hurrying their way in and shutting the door behind them just as the crowd was moments away from catching them. Quickly barging through the door all of them saw the trio race into, the furious crowd is left utterly baffled when finding on the other side nothing a frightened middle aged man dwelling within the one room shack; with not even a sign of the three that came in. Most of the crowd profusely apologize to the elder for interrupting his day before they make their way out, shutting the door behind them as they continue a search doomed to fail.

#lillaxtrigger #original writing

[leahthedreamer]

4CC is over so we know what’s next…

#figure skating #beijing 2022 #beijing olympics #i can’t believe we’re days away from official practices #everyone is gonna fly out to China soon #these four years since pyeongchang FLEW #I’m so ready to see what goes down #excitement #been watching this damn sport since Sochi so I was indoctrinated into the theme of madness from the start #now here I am 8 years later still watching it 😭

[saturatedboy]

Hai! I have another request ( if it's okay ) can you do a donna x fem pirate reader where Donna is just wondering around with Angie when she found a portal to another dimension that leads to a beach where the reader's ship is alongside the shore then they went to inspect it but ended up being caught by the crew and brought her to the captain of the ship ( which is the reader )

Donna Beneviento X F!Reader

Quick talk, this will be in two parts. I missed some of your idea to keep for the next part because I had ended up getting caught in writing this that I completely forgot to check through the request again. My deepest apologise for that but I promise to have the next part up soon.

Part 2- https://saturatedboy.tumblr.com/post/657437883445166080/donna-beneviento-x-fempiratereader

Requests: Open

Words: 3k

The fragrance of sugar and chocolate had diffused around the small room. Sat back in her chair was none other that Lady Beneviento, Donna. Brining the china cup up to her slightly chapped lips, she sipped the Earl Grey tea and sighed in delight as the steaming liquid ran down into her stomach system. Gently placing her cup down, she looked to the other side of the small round table that was surrounded by nature's plants. At the other end was Angie, the doll, chewing down on some Victorian sponge cake. Donna raised her dainty hand to her lips to hide the small smile that had sketched itself onto her face. Keeping her lips pursed together, she held in the chuckle that threatened to escape from Angie having some icing around her mouth. Pushing the chair out, the metal scraping amongst the wooden floor, Donna had raised herself out from her chair and walked over to Angie, picking up a napkin that was settled in the middle of the table.

Making her way towards Angie, she took the doll's head within her hand and dapped at the white smooth icing that had coated her mouth. "I know you can't feel but please do try to be careful when eating." Donna spoke softly, folding the used napkin up and placing it next to Angie's now finished plate.

"Yeah yeah, I know. But now we have had our afternoon tea, I think it's time for an adventure!" Gliding up from her own chair this time, which was stacked with books so Angie could reach the table when sat, the doll had grabbed it's toymakers hand and whooshed out through the many corridors.

"Angie, I wasn't finished with my drink," The whine came from Donna's mouth, her veil flying behind her unmasked  face as she tried her best to keep up with her doll's quick speed when flying. Angie however completely ignore the cries of Donna and dragged her to he front of the manor by the cloak rack. A stern look had edged its way onto Donna's features as she was still upset about her tea going cold.

"I will make you more after a walk in the woods!" Angie swirled herself around the cloak rack and grabbed a black cloak for Donna to ear. Twirling herself around Donna, Angie placed the cloak on and tied the front into a bow. "There now lets go!" Donna shook her head slowly and flipped her veil over her face, only to follow Angie out of the manor, still wishing she could of finished her cup of tea.

"10 green bottles on a wall...10 GREEN BOTTLES ON A WALL!" Donna mentally screamed in her head as she listened to Angie scream. Although her behaviour would be accepted in the manor, Donna was very against of any attention outside her territory, which to her was mostly the manor.

"Angie, please keep it down a little," She whispered, closing her eyes as she followed the familiar path through her woods. Angie groaned loudly and dropped her arms to place weight onto her float. She let her eyes turns about as she started to spin in the air to give herself entertainment since she wasn't allowed to be loud.

"Spinning I am, spinning indeed." Angie talked to herself as she continued spinning, completely unaware of Donna having her eyes closed behind her veil as she herself was subconsciously following Angie's voice. As Angie was spinning, being unaware of her surroundings, she came connected to a rather large tree that had branches sprouting far and wide. "OW!" She screeched, altering Donna of the sudden pain. Donna opened her eyes and hurried towards Angie who was now sat on the dirt floor looking up at what she knocked into. "WOAH!" She cried out as she was back up floating around the large trunk. "When were you going to tell me you have a huge tree!?" She questioned Donna, circling around the trunk once and gliding towards Donna to settle onto her shoulder.

"I...didn't." Much just like Angie, Donna was also curious about the tree. She knew her territory like the back of her hand and she was more than sure that this tree had just came out of nowhere. Kneeling down onto the slightly soggy dirt, she inspected the large roots that were coted in a slimy orange substance. Dragging a finger through the slime, she fiddled with it between her index and thumb. "How strange, I haven't seen anything like this before."

"Oooooo maybe it's magic!" Angie threw her hands wide, her head doing a full 360 as she wriggled herself about on Donna's shoulder. Donna wiped the substance off her fingers onto the ground, pulling herself back onto her feet as she stared through her black veil at the now growing orange. "Erm Donna, what did you do?" Angie asked, watching as the orange had sprouted its way higher up the tree from the roots, to the trunk and so on, accompanied by a slight rumbling erupting from what sounded like inside the trunk.

"I have no idea Angie!" Shielding herself and Angie with her hands by crouching and hugging Angie close, Donna closed her eyes as the orange glow grew lighter and brighter in colour, changing into a warm white. She felt her body became much warmer as her head began to spin. Not knowing what was going on, she felt the faint touch of breeze brushing through her cloak. Letting herself fall onto her side, Angie still in grasp, Donna curled around and let whatever was going on to happen.

"-off mine. Go scrub the lower decks Decker."

"And why should I! I was only takin' a look!" Donna groaned as she felt the sudden feel of sickness wash over her body. She curled tighter as she felt like her body was swaying side to side. Trying to pride her eye open, she was met with the once darkness she had remember seeing from when she was first experimented on with the Cadou. A deep feeling of fear washed over her

"Because I'm the captain and you don't want to make the Captain angry now do ya boy?" Donna's fear increased at the sound of the voice. It was dripping in venom and threats that even she felt frightened of. The voice wasn't familiar either and the accent was one she hadn't heard before, Donna could've swore she knew everyone from the village, even the small children that had wished to see her to make flowers crowns with her when the festivals would be around.

"No ma'am-"

"Captain Decker. I am your Captain. Now off ye go boy before I get Slasher on ya. Beat it." The noise of heavy footprints had sped past Donna's head as she kept still, trying to keep her breathing to a minable. As far as she was now aware, whoever this captain was should be the only person left with her- wait no. Angie....where was Angie? More heavy footprints has walked past her head but whoever this pair has stopped right next to her head. Donna kept still on her side, not daring to even open her eyes in fear her veil may not be covering her face.

Silence was between all of them.

...

"I know you're awake~" The same voice, the Captain's voice this time was right above her ear making Donna squirm under the heat that came from the mouth. Shaking in anticipation, Donna shot her upper body up and pulled her knees to her chest, feeling small against the new person she has came in contact with. Looking up and keeping her eyes wide, she was in complete utter shock. In front of her stood a rather tall woman. Above average height she would compare her height to. Her hair was knotted, having a large Tricorn hat with a white feather place amongst the small nest of hair. A wide grin with small sharp teeth was scarred on the face of the female. She stood tall, a sword hanging from her hip with a long tail coat in white covered her body mostly with the front being open wide. Underneath the tail coat was a white waist coat, hugging the figure perfectly. White tights were worn with brown boots that reached the knee area. Donna's mind flicked to one word and one word only,

Pirate. Just like in the many stories she had read to Angie in the past. In front of her was a pirate, and a good looking one too in her eye. "Say there lassie, ye a long way from home ain't ya?" She spoke loudly, a chuckle rumbling her chest as she stared down at Donna. Donna was beyond speechless, did she transport world? Pirates were made up stories, they belonged in a book but the tree....the tree.

"Donnaaaaaaa," A satisfied sigh left Donna's mouth as she heard the familiar voice of her partner in crime. Looking around her space trying to find where she was, Donna saw blue the surrounded the scratch wood she was on. Looking back at the female pirate, she saw behind her an upper deck that had led to a steering wheel with a large male behind it with a pipe in his mouth. Looking behind herself, Donna saw the bow of what she now knew to be a ship. A sudden grip wrapped itself around Donna's back, a giggle escaping from whoever it was. "Donna we can be pirates! Oh this is a wonderful adventure!" Angie screamed out, squeezing herself under Donna's left arm to hug her from the front instead. Beneviento looked down at Angie, who now had a small hat on top of her grey veil.

"Angie, oh Angie." Donna huffed out as she hugged her doll close, being glad she was safe and not a single scratch on her.

"Gotta say, she's quite the hyper character ain't she. Pretty tough when up against Slasher as well. My mutt was gonna take a swig at 'er head there" Donna glared at the female pirate, feeling invaded and insulted that she would call Angie out on her character so easily like that.

"And you're just a...just a..." Donna threw her head to look back at Angie failing to come up with an insult to fend Angie's honour.

"Don't mind her, she's just head over heels for cute girls like yourself," Donna flicked Angie's head at her sudden words. Donna was sure she wasn't interested in fictional characters. Donna preferred to be clean, not like a pirate who would stay in the dirt and drink beer till they pass out inly to want a 'good time' when it was for their own personal needs. The thought of even dating a pirate sent shivers up her spine.

"I ain't no cute girl, I prefer the words dare devil or even maybe sexy~" The female flirted back, staring directly at Donna. Donna let go of Angie and stood up, her shy demeanour was long gone. She crossed her arms over her chest and threw her veil up not daring to take such immature behaviour from the other. The other had gasped, but not in shock but rather like she had just found treasure.

"Sexy isn't a word to describe such yourself- gosh I don't even know your name."

The pirate smirked, leaning their arm on the grip of their word as she lightly leaned back on her knee. She licked her teeth and smiled peevishly. "The name's (Y/n), however on the sea 'ere the name's Captain Silver-ring." Donna grimaced at the sudden outtake of the 'Captain Silver-ring's hand. She softly knocked it away from herself with her own hand and tutted, Angie watching from the side lines next to a rather buff dog which had seated itself on top of a barrel.

"I prefer it if you didn't touch me (Y/n). Contact by others isn't something I'm much used to." The quick explanation from Donna had created a head tilt from the Captain. She way beyond confused, what was a lassie doing dressed in full black even doing on her boat. Everyone in the area knew that contact was the only quick way to gain any booty, either by stealing or by taking- totally not the same.

The captain slowly nodded her head, a finger drumming on her cheek. "Okay, so ye on my boat with no thoughts of getting any of me treasure? Who are you working for? The Wooden Boot? Maybe you're a stealer for the Crow's Eye. I always knew she would try take me booty." Angie laughed out-loud drawing the attention of all the sailors on board the ship, even Donna.

"She said booty!" Donna covered her eyes slightly, feeling embarrassed. Her she was, a new world with new people and she may end up dying here. Great...just great.

"So if ye not 'ere to steal me booty, why are you 'ere then?" (Y/n) asked suspiciously as she then began to circle Donna, making her feel smaller than ever. Under the intense glare that (Y/n) gave out, Donna could only whimper slightly until the same light headed feeling came back to her just like before she came to be transported here.

"I don't know, I just somehow got here." Donna mumbled, letting herself drop to her knees with her head hung down. (Y/n) waited and stared at Donna, only getting bright eyes when she signalled everyone off top deck. Hurried feet ran down below, leaving just the captain, Donna, Angie and Slasher on top as night began to roll in.

"I never got ye name," (Y/n) said, kneeling down but keeping distance away from Donna after remembering she didn't like contact.

"I'm lady Beneviento-"

"A LADY! Oh my gosh, Where are my manners." Donna raised a brow as she lifted her head, it swirling around a bit, and watched as (Y/n) bowed.

"My Lady Beneviento-" A quiet gasp came from Donna's mouth. Never in her life was she ever called by 'my'- it was oddly comforting.  "-I am Captain Silver-Ring, name belonged to me mother who used to be the greatest pirate of all times. I am in her place as Captain of the white vessel, I strive to find the treasure she never found."

Angie began to bounce up and down, the sudden energy that surrounded them all made her giddy- especially the loudness of (Y/n)'s voice. "An what is that treasure?!" Angie asked excitedly, seemingly slightly affected by the same feeling of Donna with the light headedness as she would use her hands to steady herself straight.

"Well, it's simple- kinda." Donna waited for an answer, her vision slightly blurring as she looked up at the Captain who was now on two feet. Swinging her sword out, she raised it high as the sunset light had bounced off the silver blade. "And that is to find the perfect woman to be with forever!"

Just like she was hit with cupid's arrow, Donna fell suddenly to the ground and felt the same sickness run over her body. She dropped in temperature as she held tightly onto the cloak that covered her body. Closing her eye, she sucked her lips in and bit on them to keep her mouth shut. She didn't feel like throwing up t the moment, gosh no but the burning sensation building up in her stomach would want to beg her to.

Voices rang about in her mind as she curled once again. Letting ridged breaths out through her nose, she no longer smelt the salt that had clogged her nose when she was on that ship. Instead a smell of pine and mud filled her senses. Staying laying down, Donna waited until she felt like she could move and not throw up. Expecting when she opened her eye to be faced with the cocky smirk of the pirate, she was surprised to find Angie- without a pirate hat- looking down at her. "Looks like we are back home." She said, letting herself glide up into the air.

Donna closed her eye and re-opened it. Indeed this was her home. The smell of the mud was familiar to know. Pushing herself up, light headed still evidence within her mind, she watched as Angie looked behind her. "Ya know, that was quiet the adventure. I think we should do it again tomorrow!" Angie exclaimed as she pointed at something. Following her finger, Donna looked behind herself to realise the tree that had gotten themselves into that mess was still there.

"I think I'll skip." Donna said, letting herself lay in the mud. Angie hovered right over Donna, looking down at her with a smirk.

"Too afraid to face Captain Silver-ring?" She teased, wagging her finger at Donna making fake kissing noises. Donna scrunched up mud in her hand and threw it at Angie who laughed in returned. With slightly rosy cheeks, Donna protested against the idea of seeing the Captain again. "Okay okay...maybe I'll show Lady Dimitrescu the tree! ooo I bet (Y/n) would love her. A lady who loves danger, how perfect their match would be."

For unknown reasons to herself, Donna couldn't help but scoff at the name of Dimitrescu. "You know what, I will go back tomorrow. Not like we have much to do anyway," Donna dragged out, her scowl still on her face. She wouldn't let Dimitrescu see her, oh no. She wouldn't allow it.

She found Captain Silver-Ring first, she shall be the one to see her again. "Is this you saying you love her~"

"Angie love is a strong word, one I'm sure Pirates don't use. I'm only going to gather more information- who knows maybe mother would like this tree." Donna bit her lip after her sentence. "Or- we just keep this tree to ourselves and leave it like that?" She questioned mostly herself but either way, Angie replied with a grin.

"Maybe we could help her find a lover and we could ask for information in return to give to Mother Miranda!"

"Yeah....lets do..that." As Angie floated away back to the Manor clearly excited for the next day, Donna stayed laid in the mud questioning herself. A sudden flash back of the Captain's grin came into her mind making her hit her cheeks. "No no Donna, you are a Lady. She is a Pirate. A really...really- awkwardly nice pirate." Closing her eye, Donna laid there silently enjoying the look of the Pirate in her mind on repeat. How weird- she was enjoying remembering the new Captain. A new world.

Her now favourite adventure.

#lady donna beneviento #lady beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #donna x reader #resident evil angie #resident evil x reader #donna beneviento #x fem!reader #resident evill village #residentevil8 #oneshot

[bibliophilea]

The End - Ch. 1

Happy Holiday Truce, @mystyrust! Sorry to make you wait - I wanted to do something big, but I forgot to take into account two things: I am a slow writer, and this story became too big to handle as a oneshot. I do have big ideas for where I want this story to go, but we'll see how the story builds itself as I write! Happy Holidays!

If elements of this story seem familiar, that’s because they are! This is based on @lexosaurus‘s tags on @dannys-phucking-dead‘s post! I hope you enjoy!

ffn | ao3

>1< 2 3 4 ...

"Listen. I've met a lot of great asteroids. Really fantastic asteroids. And they've all told me themselves — they said that I was a great president. All of them said that — all one hundred thousand asteroids. I was there."

The camera switches to Tiffany Snow, sitting at the anchor desk.

"This is what President Drumpf had to say yesterday regarding NASA's claims that an unforeseen asteroid is approximately 21 days from hitting the Earth, creating an extinction-level event on par with what took out the dinosaurs," Snow states with a cheerful smile. "Polls suggest that approximately 48.2% of the population believe NASA's claims to be a hoax; 29.5% believe it's the end of the world; and 22.3% is undecided. Lance, can you tell us a bit about Amity Park's response to NASA's claims?"

The camera switches to a street view outside of Amity Park's capitol building. People crowd the streets, many of them yelling and holding signs. Some signs read "THE END IS NIGH". Others say "ASTEROID SHMASTEROID". A few say "DEFUND NASA". One sign says "[citation needed]".

"Certainly, Tiffany," Lance Thunder replies, nearly shouting over the crowd. "As you can see here, tensions are high in Amity Park. Citizens gather to make their voices heard amidst NASA's claims of doom and gloom. Hey, Bob, what do you think of NASA's statement?"

Thunder turns to a middle aged man beside him wearing a bright red cap. The man bends to put his face by the microphone Thunder is brandishing.

"It's fake news, is what it is! I mean, come on! How does a freaking asteroid come out of nowhere? It's a China conspiracy, I tell you!"

Bob nods, and Thunder takes back the microphone. "Well, you heard it here, folks. Amity Park's citizens think NASA's claims are a ho—"

"THE END IS NIGH!"

A woman wearing a sign with the same message butts in, snatching the microphone from Thunder.

"The Disasteroid cometh for us all! Soon it will be Judgement Day and all of you Non Believers will be found Wanting!"

Thunder squawks. "Hey! That is APN property! Give that back!"

The camera turns to focus on Thunder and the woman as they fight over the microphone, their squabbling barely audible over the feedback. Then the feed cuts back to Tiffany Snow.

"Wow Lance, looks like no one can break Amity Park's spirit," Snow says with a grin. "In other news, Congress has voted to defund NASA—"

The TV clicks off.

Danny carefully puts down the remote before he allows himself to shake. His fists clench, and he hides them under folded arms, lest they be seen bursting into ectoplasmic flame. His face feels taut, teeth clenched, eyes abnormally dry. Toxic green edges his vision, and he clamps his eyes shut, lest they be seen glowing green with his anger.

And oh, he is angry.

NASA is a world leader in space aviation and exploration, and Congress is defunding them. And for what? Because they told the truth? Because there's a humongous asteroid about to hit the Earth? They should be funneling emergency money towards NASA, not taking money away! The world needs NASA, now more than ever! Danny has seen the images NASA shared — the images the media doesn't dare share, lest the wrath of one President Drumpf befall them. He doesn't know how everyone missed it — it's huge and it's glowing green and no stars glow green like that — but now that everyone knows about it, there should be some sort of plan to stop it, right? Wrong! The president says it's fake news, and Congress follows suit, and the biggest space programs in the world can't agree on what to do about it when half the world doesn't even think it's real and oh god we're gonna die like actually 100% die and it's not ghosts it's not Pariah Dark it's a big fucking SPACE ROCK that's going to do us in for good and there'll be no more habitable Earth and no more Ghost Zone and we're all going to DIE—

A hand touches Danny's knee, and he gasps, eyes flying open, cringing away from the contact.

Through the green haze in his vision he sees bright orange and immediately shuts his eyes again. They can't see, can't see him freak out, can't see his powers freak out with him—

The hand touches his knee again, and he freezes at the touch, body tense, teeth clenched, eyes shut tight. Another hand touches his arm and he takes in a breath, shuddering as the hand slowly moves to his shoulder, and then to his back, rubbing large, soothing circles. Danny tries to time his breathing to the circles, like Jazz had taught him to, and slowly the blood rushing in his ears (when had that happened?) quiets to a dull roar.

"There we go Danny, see, just breathe. You're okay. You're at home, and Mom and Dad are out, and you don't have to hide."

Danny uncurls slightly at the sound of his sister's voice. He opens his eyes a crack — just enough to see past the green haze — and really looks this time. The orange isn't the same shade as his dad's jumpsuit — it's a lighter, more natural color, and it surrounds a face with concerned, green eyes. Jazz. Jazz is here, and she has her hand on his knee, and she's rubbing circles into his back, and he's kind of sort of getting the hang of breathing with the rhythm of those circles. He leans into her, and she bundles him into a hug, still rubbing circles into his back.

The front door opens, and Danny and Jazz both freeze. Jazz said Mom and Dad are out, but what if they're back? They can't see him like this, they'll find out!

Danny has half a mind to just turn invisible when their voices hit his ears.

"Man, dude, did you see what Congress did to NASA? That's so unfair!"

"It's totally unfair! They're just telling the truth! This whole administration is the absolute worst!"

Tucker. Sam. Danny relaxes slightly at their voices, but he doesn't turn around — doesn't want them to see him like this, either.

But it's too late.

"Woah, dude, you okay?"

"Danny!"

He hears them rush over to him — feels their worry and the warmth of their bodies as they get close — and tenses up again. He should be better than this, stronger than this! He shouldn't be freaking out about some dumb news report.

Not just a dumb news report, his brain helpfully supplies. We're all going to die. And there's nothing you can do about it.

All of a sudden, Jazz's embrace feels too tight. To constraining. Trapping him where he is.

He slips intangible and flees from Jazz, flees from his friends — flees upwards, up through the ceiling and through the roof and through the Ops Center, flees until there's no more house to flee from. He lands hard on the roof of the Ops Center, scraping his knees but it doesn't matter, hands scorching the metal but who cares, it's just the end of the world—

He pulls his knees to his chest and buries his head in them, his face screwing as he tries to get a hold of himself, tries to rein himself in, it's just the end of the world, just the end of Mom and Dad and Jazz and Sam and Tucker and school and movies and parks and people and everything and everyone he'd ever tried to protect—

"Bite this."

Danny feels something cool touch his lips, and he bites down — then coughs and spits as bitter rind and sour citrus burst in his mouth.

He looks up to see Tucker triumphantly brandishing a whole lemon with a chunk bitten out of it. Sam and Jazz stand to either side of him, varying levels of worry and amusement fighting for dominance in their faces. Danny spits again, and stares at the bits of rind and lemon pulp that vacate his mouth.

"What the hell?"

"Told you it'd work!" Tucker crows.

"A lemon?" Danny splutters.

"It's an... unorthodox grounding technique," Jazz responds, "and it normally isn't administered like that—"

"Point is, it works," Sam interjects. "How're you feeling?"

Danny stares at the three of them for a moment. Then he sighs and chuckles darkly. "The worlds going to end because too many people don't believe NASA about an asteroid hurtling towards Earth, and Tucker made me bite into a lemon. How am I supposed to feel?"

He sighs again, long, hard, and shuddering, and he lets himself fall backwards onto the warm metal of the Ops Center roof. Jazz lies down across from him, and Sam and Tucker lie to either side of him, all their heads nearly touching. The sky above them is bright blue, clear of clouds. Birds flit across Danny's vision, twittering as they chase each other before flying off to who knows where. Does it even matter? They'll all be dead in a few weeks.

"I don't want to die again."

The words slip from his mouth, and he feels his breath hitch, watches as his vision goes blurry. His hands begin to clench into fists — but then Sam and Tucker take his hands, massaging the tension from his fingers and palms, and Jazz runs her hand through his hair like she used to do when they were kids and he'd had a nightmare, and something in him breaks.

A sob wrenches itself from his throat, and he curls in on himself. His sister and friends move to hold him close, and he can't help but lean into their touch. They hold him as his eyes glow green, as his hands fist into the metal of the roof, as his sobs take on a ghostly tinge, nearly wailing his grief and his anger and his fear into the sky. He shudders as he cries, and feels as they shudder with him — feels as Sam and Tucker push their faces into his shirt, and as Jazz buries her face in his hair — feels as his shirt and his head where their faces lie become damp.

Crying. They're crying.

And it's his fault.

A wave of guilt washes over him, and he wants to pull away again, wants to force himself to stop crying, to be strong for them. But their grips on him tighten, and they speak to him, words warped by their own tears. "Just let it out," Tucker mutters into his back. "It's okay to cry," Sam whispers into his shoulder. "You don't have to hide," Jazz repeats into his hair.

But beneath their words, beneath their tight hold on him and the way they push their faces against him is a hidden plea: "Stay," they say.

Please stay.

So Danny stays.

Danny stays, and they cry together, and the sun shines down upon them from the clear blue sky.

*~*~*

Danny doesn't know how long it's been. Only that he's no longer crying, and that his friends and sister are no longer crying. They've melted into a cuddle pile of four, with Danny at the center, and the sun beats down on them from a different angle than before. Danny has wound up with his head in Jazz's lap, and she's playing with his hair. Sam and Tucker are on top of him, still holding his hands. Their weight is comforting.

Danny is exhausted. He just wants to fall asleep and deal with everything later. Crying in front of your friends and sister will do that, his brain helpfully supplies. So will the end of the world.

He sighs heavily and moves to sit up. Sam and Tucker get off him, still holding his hands, and Jazz helps him up, moving from playing with his hair to rubbing circles on his back. He smiles faintly at all of them.

"Thanks, guys," he whispers hoarsely. He really does have the best friends and best sister in the world.

Too bad they're all going to die in three weeks.

He frowns and sighs again, too tired to cry.

"It's heavy stuff, huh," Jazz says gently. Danny looks back at her, an eyebrow raised. She continues. "The thought of everything ending like that — it's really hard to think about. Hell, I'm having trouble processing it." She smiles gently at him. "It's okay to be scared and angry, and it's okay to be scared and angry in front of us. You don't have to hide."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Danny mutters. "No more running away."

"Good," Sam remarks. "Now, what are we going to do about everything?"

"What do you mean?" Danny asks.

"You know. The asteroid?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah. That." Danny frowns down at the roof of the Ops Center. The metal is warped and singed where his hands had dug into it. "What are we supposed to do about that?" He looks back up at Sam. Her eyes bear into his, and her grip on his hand tightens.

"Look, I know this is hard for you. It's hard for me, too. But we can't just sit here and do nothing."

Danny frowns at her. He opens his mouth to respond, but Tucker gets there first.

"Look, I know we need to have this conversation, I really do. But can we have it inside? The metal's starting to get really hot." Tucker stands up, rubbing his free hand on his jeans from touching the roof.

Danny sighs and stands up, stretching the kinks from his back. Sam and Jazz stand up with him.

"On it," Danny says. "Everyone hold tight."

He feels Sam's and Tucker's grips tighten on his hands, and he feels Jazz grab his shoulder. With a poke at his core, he tugs them all intangible, slipping through the roof to the refreshingly cool interior of the Ops Center. He lets go of intangibility and lets gravity embrace them slowly, gently depositing them all on the floor of the Ops Center. Then he lets go of his friends' hands and steps forwards, turning so he's facing the three of them.

"So, what are we supposed to do, huh? Half the world thinks the asteroid's a hoax, and the other half either doesn't have the money to do anything, or is stuck in petty arguments about what to do and who's to blame and all that shit." Danny crosses his arms and frowns.

"Dude, you're the Ghost King," Tucker's quick to reply. "Doesn't that mean you can, like, do anything?"

Danny facepalms. "Oh my god, Tucker, I'm not the Ghost King. I told the Observants I don't want any part of it. And besides, even if I were, who's going to listen to me? Klemper? The Box Ghost? I'm sure they can convince the world to get its shit together!"

"Hey!" Sam interjects. "You can't just focus on what we can't do. We need to focus on what we can do, as a team."

"Oh, and what can we do, Sam? We're way out of our depth here! The four of us can't stop the asteroid from hitting Earth!"

"You're right, Danny," Jazz says. Sam and Tucker gape at her.

"But dude—"

"You can't just—"

"Hey, let me speak!" Jazz waits until Sam and Tucker close their mouths — Tucker with a perplexed look on his face, Sam with an expectant frown.

"We are out of our depth," Jazz states. "We don't have the resources or political pull here on Earth or in the Ghost Zone to make a significant difference." She pauses. "But we know someone who does."

It takes a moment, but Sam gets it first.

"Oh, ew, we are not asking him for help!"

"Wait." Tucker says. "Asking who for—" horror dawns on his face. "Oh, no. No no no. We can't! Why would you even think of that?"

"Think of what?" Danny asks, a little annoyed that he doesn't get it.

"Asking Vlad," Sam, Tucker, and Jazz reply.

"Oh, ew!" Danny says automatically.

Jazz rolls her eyes. "It's not like I want to talk to him either! I just think given the circumstances, we don't have much choice."

"There's always a choice, Jazz," Sam retorts. "He'll probably try and force Danny to stay with him in exchange for his help."

"Yeah, Jazz," Tucker adds. "He's a slimeball. Who knows how he'll try to play this to his advantage."

"But—"

"I think Jazz is right," Danny says.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz stare at Danny, flabbergasted. Danny blushes.

"Well, it's like Jazz said — I don't want to, but I don't think we have a choice. We need his help. And besides," he says with a smirk, "the man is way too narcissistic. He doesn't want to die because half the world doesn't believe what's right in front of their faces."

"And we can use that to our advantage," Jazz adds. "He knows he'll need help with whatever scheme he's plotting, and there isn't enough time for him to be picky."

"So, what? We go to him for help, and threaten to walk if he tries to pull anything?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Exactly." Jazz and Danny grin at each other.

Tucker sighs and pulls out his PDA. "Alright, fine. One meeting with one seriously messed up frootloop coming right up."

Danny stares. "Dude, what are you doing?"

Tucker looks up. "Um, scheduling a meeting with our evil mayor?"

Sam shakes her head. "He's probably booked. We'll have better luck if we just show up."

Jazz nods. "He's probably expecting us anyways."

Tucker sighs and puts away his PDA. "Alright, fine. But can we take a moment to clean up? I don't know about you guys, but my face is crusty."

Danny looks at his friends and sister. Their hair is a mess, and their eyes are still rimmed red. Sam's mascara has dried after running down her face, and Tucker's glasses and Jazz's headband are askew. Danny figures he doesn't look much better.

He nods. "Alright. But after that, we have a meeting with one seriously messed up frootloop!"

#danny phantom #holiday truce 2020 #christmas truce 2020 #phantom planet #danny fenton #jazz fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #rewrite #dp fanfic #dp fic #mystyrust #lexosaurus #dannys phucking dead #danny #jazz #tucker #sam #i'm sorry this is so late! #but i hope you like this! #i have Ideas for this story #and i'm excited to get to them! #but the kids needed to let their emotions loose first #my work #my write #not a q

[thatsamericano]

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano. Background Gerita, and Seborga and Prussia are there too. Very brief appearances from Denmark and Lithuania in the video, as well as a ton of other characters who don’t get lines.

Rating: Teen, but only for cursing. Very fluffy, and no warnings to speak of.

Word Count: 2518

Summary: America sends Romano a special video for his birthday. He isn’t Elvis Presley, but it’s the best rendition of the song Romano’s ever heard.

A/N: I wanted to post something fluffy for Romano’s birthday. This will be up on AO3 soon.

It had been a nice, quiet birthday for Romano so far. Feli’s macho potato had dropped by to spend the day with him, and Prussia had tagged along too. Savino was glad Gilbert and Marcello were here, because otherwise he would’ve been stuck third-wheeling the sappiest couple in the world on his own birthday. Spain and Belgium had said they would arrive in a couple hours, which Romano was looking forward to as well. Most of the people who had sent his little brother a happy birthday message had remembered to send one to him too. America had sent them both silly e-cards, and the gifts he’d sent had arrived a week early and would be unwrapped along with all the others after they frosted the cake.

Romano was not lonely, especially not for someone who would’ve had to fly across a whole ocean to see him. He only threw a spatula at Germany’s head when he leaned in to kiss Feli right after he put the cake in the oven because the sight of the potato bastard kissing his little brother grossed him out to no end.

Feliciano pouted at him. “Fratello, that wasn’t very nice of you.”

“I had to stop you two before I lost my appetite. I want to actually be able to eat a slice of cake later!”

Germany muttered something under his breath, and Seborga giggled while Prussia ruffled his hair. “Relax, Savi. It’s your birthday.”

Romano shoved Gilbert’s hand away. “I’m relaxing just fine, damn it.” He walked over to the counter to check his phone, which had received a few new messages since he and Feli had started making their joint birthday cake.

As he was reading a message from New Zealand (who seemed to be confused by the time difference and hoped their message had arrived on time), a new text popped up on his phone. From America.

“Huh, that’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Marcello asked.

“America sent me a link to a Youtube video.” Alfred liked to upload a lot of strange things on Youtube, including cooking videos with his twin, recordings of him prank calling England, and the occasional stunt that would’ve turned Savino’s hair gray if he’d aged like a human. Seriously, what the fuck had possessed him to surf down a staircase on a fucking ironing board?

The message before the link was cryptic as hell. Happy bday. Here’s an extra present for you. 😉 Hope you enjoy.🎶 Knowing America, Romano wouldn’t have been too surprised if he’d opened up the link and seen that one Rick Astley song the idiota still thought was funny to send to people. But Feli immediately got excited about it.

“Oh, he finally sent you the video! I thought he’d do that a month ago!”

Prussia smirked as Feli rushed over to them. “Nah, Al had always planned to upload it today.”

Germany came over with a subtle hint of a smile on his face, like he knew what all this was about too. At least Marcello still looked baffled as he leaned over to get a look at Savino’s phone.

“What the fuck are you assholes up to?” Savino didn’t like this feeling. He didn’t like that everyone except his baby brother had been plotting something behind his back.

“It isn’t bad, Romano,” Germany promised. “Just open the link and you’ll see.”

Romano didn’t trust Germany further than he could throw him, and the guy was way too heavy for him to even lift. But if Germany thought it was okay, it probably wasn’t a video involving the kinds of ridiculous shenanigans America liked to film, and it certainly was nowhere near as heart-attack inducing as some of the videos he’d seen Fredo post (especially if Prussia or Denmark were egging him on). Savino squinted at Ludwig suspiciously before he clicked on the link.

It wasn’t Rick Astley. The video started with a black screen. “No, Gil, you’re supposed to press the red button!” The voice sounded like Denmark.

“Magnus, I pressed the red button!” That was Prussia.

“Guys, maybe we could use my iPhone instead?” America asked. His voice sounded uncharacteristically strained and nervous. “The quality won’t be as good, but at this point Vinny’s probably given up anyway.”

Suddenly, the image of a white dress shirt with a navy tie (and an inexplicable ukulele) appeared on the screen. The camera zoomed out a little, and he could see Alfred smiling at him in a crowded bar with many nations Romano knew well, and many who were only acquaintances. Denmark rushed past him, but Romano could scarcely take his eyes off America. He was wearing the same outfit he’d seen him in on the day of the last world meeting he’d attended a couple months ago in Berlin, and he was cradling a ukulele in his arms. His warm smile, as always, made Romano’s heart skip a beat. But there was a hint of anxiety in his crystal blue eyes, and that made Romano wish he was there to talk to America and help him with whatever seemed to be bothering him.

“Hey, Vinny! Right now it’s still January, but by the time I upload this video, it will be your birthday, so happy birthday, dude! I hope you’re having a good day with your brothers.” He chuckled. “You guys will probably need a huge cake if you’re gonna blow out all your birthday candles.”

Romano rolled his eyes. “That’s what numbered candles are for, idiota,” he murmured.

“Anyway, I know I’m not the best singer in the world—” Prussia snickered from behind the camera and America glared at him sharply before relaxing back into the smile he’d had on his face before. “But I’ve been practicing this song a lot, so hopefully you’ll like it.”

Romano wondered which song it was. If it was the Italian version of “Happy Birthday,” America wouldn’t need a ukulele, and this video would not be three and a half minutes in length.

America started strumming the ukulele, and it wasn’t the “Happy Birthday” song. Savino vaguely recognized the melody, and apparently Feliciano knew what the song was, because he was bouncing next to him and muffling squeals behind his hand. Savino was tempted to smack him, but that would involve looking away from his phone.

Then, America started to sing in a shaky but surprisingly clear voice, staring straight at the camera. “Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

Marcello gasped. “He didn’t!”

“Oh, he totally did,” Prussia replied smugly.

Savino was too emotional to talk. He teared up as Alfred continued with the next line. “But I can’t help falling in love with you.” Fredo’s voice was full of sincerity, like he actually meant it, like he actually loved him. For so long, Romano had assumed his feelings for America were completely one-sided, that he would have to ignore them as much as possible, vainly hope they might disappear, and move on with his life as best he could. But clearly, he had been wrong, and the proof was that America was serenading him with a love song. On his birthday.

America started walking backwards with his ukulele, and Prussia’s camera followed him. At the end of the first verse, he’d reached a booth with Spain, Portugal, Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg. They all held up signs wishing him a happy birthday in various languages as they sang the last line together. Spain waved and Belgium winked at the camera, and America grinned as he kept walking through the bar.

He briefly stopped by other groups of people to allow them to hold up signs wishing Romano a happy birthday as he sang. Russia, his sisters, and Canada. Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia and Poland. Hungary, Austria, Germany, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein. China, Japan, Taiwan, Vietnam, and South Korea. France, Monaco, all the UK countries, and Ireland. Australia, New Zealand, Seychelles, and Kenya. Greece, Turkey, and Egypt. All the Nordics too. It was the sweetest, most romantic thing anyone had ever done for Romano. America must have gone to so much effort to orchestrate something like this, to gather so many countries together in one bar in Berlin and convince them to go along with his plan. Savino smiled as he kept watching the video. Maybe Alfred wasn’t as good a singer as Elvis Presley or any of the many people who had covered this song, but his performance was heartfelt, and Savino loved every second of it.

Near the end, all of the countries sang the line “For I can’t help falling in love with you” together and held up their happy birthday signs. The bartender and some confused humans sang along with them. Savino laughed as Alfred chuckled sheepishly in the video, cheeks turning pink because this was an unusually public spectacle, even for him.

Alfred repeated the final chorus and sang with just him and the ukulele, as he had begun the song. “Take my hand, take my whole life too.” His eyes were shining with tears, and not the happy kind Savino had been shedding since the second line of the song. “For I can’t help falling in love with you.” He repeated the final line then took a deep breath.

“So, yeah. That uhh… wasn’t just a song.” America glanced off to the side. “I’ve kinda been hopelessly in love with you for a while.”

“About 90 years, give or take!” a tipsy voice shouted from off camera. It sounded just like Lithuania, the few times he’d had a little too much to drink at a speakeasy back when he, America, and Romano all lived together. Romano remembered those days fondly.

America hunched his shoulders with a pained look on his face. “Yeah. What Tolys said. You mean a lot to me, Vinny, both as a friend and possibly more, if you want that. If you just wanna stay friends, that’s cool. I hope you liked the song. Happy birthday.”

The screen abruptly cut to black, and the video ended. Savino wiped his eyes and looked up at Feliciano. “This is… this is why we had to fly back right away, isn’t it? Our boss didn’t call you.”

Feli shook his head. “I lied. America asked me to lie so he could surprise you with that video.”

“I can’t believe he did that for me.” Part of Savino felt like he didn’t deserve it, but a much bigger part of him was too selfish to care about what he did or didn’t deserve. He just wanted to be happy. “I wish he was here,” Romano confessed quietly. “I wish I could tell him I feel the same way.” And he wanted to kiss away every tear that idiota had ever cried over him, which was long overdue.

Savino ignored his little brothers cooing over what he had just said and tried not to bristle at the fact that even Germany seemed to think it was adorable. Prussia, weirdly enough, was too busy texting on his phone to join in on the overbearing fawning.

Gilbert chuckled at something on his phone. “Alfred’s a lot closer than you think. He decided to skip the Saint Paddy’s Day parade this year.” He grinned up at Romano, who instantly got the message. Alfred wasn’t celebrating with his Irish-American citizens. He was here in Italy, and it wouldn’t take much effort for Romano to find him.

He sprinted to his front door and flung it open. Alfred, who had been standing with his back to the front door, turned around to face him. “Vinny, I…”

Savino was too impatient to let him get another word out. He tugged on the collar of his emerald green t-shirt and sealed their mouths together. Alfred made a muffled sound of surprise and started kissing him a couple seconds later. He wrapped an arm around his waist, and Savino could feel that he was holding something wrapped in cellophane in his hand. He didn’t give a fuck what it was. He didn’t give a fuck about anything except the fact that Alfred was grinning against his mouth as he reluctantly pulled away for air.

Alfred’s face was flushed, and he had to reach up to fix his glasses. “Wow. This t-shirt never worked before.”

Savino glanced down at the shirt, which read “Kiss Me, I’m Irish!” (of course it did) and snorted. “I didn’t kiss you because of a fucking t-shirt logo. I kissed you because I watched that birthday video you sent me, which was the most adorable goddamn thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“So you liked the song, huh?”

“I loved the song. And I love you too, Fredo.”

He heard sniffling, and it couldn’t have been Alfred, who was beaming at him like every prayer he’d ever uttered had been answered just by Savino saying those words to him. And the sniffling noise was coming from behind him. At least one person had followed Romano to the front door, but Romano had been too focused on America to notice.

Romano tensed up as America laughed and put an arm around his shoulder. “Germany, are you crying, dude?”

“I… I’m verklempt. That was a beautiful moment.” Savino glanced over and saw that Germany wasn’t the only one. Veneziano, Seborga, and Prussia were all standing in the entryway, and they all looked misty-eyed.

Romano groaned and turned to bury his face in America’s ridiculous t-shirt. “Seriously, did you come out here to fucking spy on us?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” America squeezed his arm around him in a silent gesture of support. He could probably tell how embarrassed Romano was.

“Well, you were the one who decided to run out the front door suddenly,” Marcello said teasingly. “You can’t blame us for wanting to see what was going on.”

Veneziano piled on. “It’s nice of you to visit us on our birthday, America. You can come inside if you want, or you can stay out here and kiss Savi some more.”

Romano growled and turned to shoot vicious glares at both of his brothers, but America didn’t seem bothered at all. “As tempting as it sounds to stand here and kiss Vinny all day, I think I’ll come inside.” He dropped his arm from around Savino’s shoulders and presented him with the floral bouquet he somehow hadn’t noticed earlier in his mad dash to the door. “These are for you.”

“Grazie.” Savino smiled as he bent his head to sniff the bouquet of red roses mixed with white lilies. The symbolism wasn’t lost on him.

“Anything for you,” America whispered, too quietly for the others to hear. He pressed a kiss to Savino’s cheek, grabbed his wheeled suitcase, and dangled out his free hand as they headed into the house behind the others.

Romano grabbed America’s hand and laced their fingers together. This was the best birthday he’d ever had, and it was due in no small part to the fact America was holding his hand right now and smiling like he was the one who had received everything he ever wanted.

#hetalia #romerica #hws romano #hws south italy #hws america #hws veneziano #hws north italy #hws seborga #hws germany #hws prussia #italy bros #italy brothers #aph romano #aph south italy #aph america #aph veneziano #aph north italy #aph seborga #aph germany #aph prussia #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hws fanfic #hws fanfiction #aph fanfic #aph fanfiction #my writing #original post

[princess-from-another-galaxy]

I am so confused by this whole thing ? nothing makes sense anymore. People are saying the op's evidence was fake then others are saying it was true and that the op never deleted her tweets unlike what's been claimed for like 5 days, idk anymore i don't understand.

And now there are SA allegations ?? Everyone is just jumping on the bandwagon instead of admitting to themselves that there's a chance that he might have been a less than desirable boyfriend and that his exes are on the way to ruin his entire career like these two things do not negate each other.

His private life is none of our business and this matter should have been solved privately instead of blasting everything out loud for the world to see. Also that guy who said Licas was his boyfriend can go to hell like... WHY would you do that even if it's true like... i can't understand.

Idk this is seriously getting out of hand and it becomes more and more ridiculous like Allkpop made an article about him abandoning a kitten but that kitten is in Winwin's care ?? Like please stop adding fuel to the fire ?

I think SM and LabelV should have put in their statements that they were gonna like investigate the matter. WayV's reputation is also on the line and China seems to ve very unforgiving. If they don't do a bit more damage control i'm afraid for WayV's future as a whole :(

Yeah, if SM and Label V don't do something soon, WayV's future will be very unsure...

The only SA thing I saw was one of the accusers claiming that Lucas wanted to have sex while she was on her period and sort of nagged her into it (sexual coercion).

Also OP posted on Weibo not Twitter, but yeah, idk if she deleted or not.

You're right this whole thing is a convoluted mess, but if true, nothing he supposedly did is illegal or unforgivable... Being a bad boyfriend isn't really something someone should lose their career over. (And if this was about any western artist, the fans would have not given a single flying fuck)

That one dude really pissed me off as well!! Outing someone (especially a public figure in an homophobic industry and culture) is just about one of the most horrible things you can do!!

#kpop #nct #wayv #superm #lucas wong #xuxi #yukhei #sm town #sm entertainment #label v

[wreckofawriter]

Never Forget

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Word Count: 3,406

Warnings: None? Swearing?

Request: hello~ thank you so much for responding to my request, its amazing and i dont mind at att that u responded a little later. so, if u dont mind too, could you pretty please do a sirius x reader when sirius escapes from Azkaban and when Remus come to see him brings y/n with him (they were fiances) and he wanted to hug her or somethin’ she looks werid at him and ask “ dude, i know you from somewhere? “ and sirius is shock that she forget him after all and y/n starts laughing and hugs him so tight and tells him how much he missed him and that she could never forget him. bassicaly a lot of fluff? thank you 🥺❤️

A/n: Sorry this took so long to come out! I hope you like it!

  You had never considered yourself a vengeful person. In fact you found yourself quite the opposite. You had always been kind, kind to those who were kind to you and kind to those who weren’t. You had never insulted someone back or got someone in trouble on purpose, you had helped with some pranks, but nothing too harsh, you never, ever helped pull one on Snape, no matter how many names he called you or dirty tricks he pulled. You knew he was only doing because of your boyfriend anyway.

         Yes you the sweetheart of hogwarts was dating the Sirius Black. You weren't quite sure how it happened, it was like you were suddenly submerged in a pool of minty breath, leather jackets and musky cologne. And you loved it. By age 14 you were madly in love with him, but unlike every other girl in hogwarts Sirius actually began to return your feelings. Not to say he admitted it right away, hell it took Sirius two years of denial and eleven months of fear before he finally asked you out. You had accepted, but not without hesitation, he had after all been rumored to have slept with half the school. 

Surprisingly to everyone, even the gryffindor's best friends, Sirius had stayed completely and utterly loyal. He barely even looked at other girls, becoming oblivious to the flirtatious attempts they threw at him. 

Sirius became the best boyfriend you could ask for. He did everything for you. He would buy you gifts that were far too expensive, showering you affection, help you with anything and everything, for the first time in his life he truly felt love and he wouldn't have given it away for anything, let alone risk it with his own mistakes. 

It was no surprise to anyone when you moved in together after Hogwarts, your parents complained about it being too early but you managed to keep them docile. You also joined the Order of the Phoenix and was the maid of honor at James and Lily's wedding. You even received a ring of your own from a blushing nervous wreck of Sirius, a ring which you happily accepted. 

Your seemingly perfect life was shattered only a month before your wedding. 

You remembered the day clearer than you remembered most. You had been cooking, your y/h/c hair was put up in a disgusting excuse for a bun, the short blue skirt you were wearing paired with an oversized david bowie t-shirt that wasn't yours was covered by an already stained white apron that read ‘kiss the chef’ in red looping letters. The room had been full of steam, the scent of curry and cumin thick in your nose. You had a bad habit of eating dinner late at night, something developed because of the wacky schedule your job held. You had been waiting for Sirius to come back. 

You jumped a bit at the sound of your door slamming open. Harsh footsteps echoed through the hall, your eyes widened slightly. 

"Siri? Are you a-" your sentence dropped to the floor when he stumbled into your view. His hair was a tangled mess, his creamy skin broken in a harsh cut on his left cheek. His lips were parted slightly, he was breathing heavily. But the thing that struck you most were his eyes. The stormy grey was rimmed with red, irises tinted pink, a supernatural gloss making them shine unnaturally. The looked broken. They hold an impossibly heavy weight, like the world had suddenly crashed upon them. 

"James is dead." He croaked, his voice raged and breaking.

You dropped the pan that you were holding, its contents scattering the ground. "W-what?" 

"Lily too." Silver drops shimmered lightly down his face. 

You felt tears sting your eyes, your vision blurring, "What about-" your voice fell short in a broken cry.

"He's alive, but I don't know what's going to happen." He sobbed rushing towards you and collapsing into your arms. 

"We'll get him, right?" You spoke so softly and delicately, Sirius found the need to stop his breathing to keep you from shattering. 

"Y/n, they were sold out." He clutched you desperately shaking. 

"What?" Your brain simply couldn't process all this information. 

"They think I did it. Everyone thinks I told him where they were." His voice was so raw with fear it was unrecognizable. 

You just stood there stunned tears clinging to the inside of your eyelids as you felt your heart smash to pieces. 

"They think I did it, but I didn't." He sobbed, "Peter did, I tried to fight him b-b-but now everyone thinks I killed him too, and he-he's alive and they are coming to get me." Tears began to wet your shoulder. 

You were too stunned to speak. The feeling of absolute terror and rage swept you. 

"They're gonna take me to Azkaban y/n/n." He looked up at you and your heart shattered. He was broken, utterly and bitterly broken. 

You felt your already shattered heart clench in protest, begging you to look away from this train wreck of a man before it was hurt anymore. You let out a choked sigh. Before grabbing Sirius neck and slamming your lips roughly on to yours.

His lips were chapped and salty, tasting of blood and tears. You felt his shaking hands wrap around your waist as his tongue slipped past your lips. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, lungs burning dully. You felt your heart stop when you looked at him. Even completely destroyed in front of you it was impossible to ignore his beauty. His cheeks dusted a light pin, eyes blotchy and red, making the grey storms that lurked there brighten with a melancholy light. He remind you of autumn leaves, he was so pretty just before he fell. You pulled him back into your secure embrace, your heart thumping loudly. You led your hands up his back resting them on his shoulders and tugging him towards you. You felt him nuzzle into your neck, inhaling sharply, attempting to engrave the scent of your shampoo in his head. His hands slid to your lower back, resting on the helm of your skirt as he shook violently. 

“I love you.” You whispered through a thick wave of silent tears. You didn't let your voice break, too many things in that room had already been broken. “I love you so much, and everything is going to be okay. Its gonna be okay.” 

And that's how you stayed, standing in the middle of a steamy kitchen, in the smell of curry and cumin, sauce burning in a saucepan on the stove, half sauteed vegetables littered around you like strange confetti. You repeated the last four words you spoke over and over again until you weren't sure who you were trying to convince. You stood like that when you heard loud rumbling footsteps come crashing to your door. You stayed like that as the chant of your impending doom continued up the stairs. The door bursting open. Four Arours came into the small room. 

“Ma’m step away from him.” Spoke one of them.

“Sirius Orin Black you are under the arrest for the murder of Peter Pettigrew.” A young woman said. 

You could no longer hide your tears as you shook with wails, tugging him closer to you. “I love you y/n.” He spoke quietly into your ear. “I love you so much.” 

“I know,” You cried, “I love you too.” 

Just as you finished your sentence you were ripped from his grasp. You struggled, delivering a harsh kick to the crotch of the man who held you. He fell to the ground with a groan as you scrambled back towards Sirius. Your wrist was snatched by a different Arour when you just millimeters from him. You spun towards the ground at the sudden gasp and landed with a harsh thump, as soft whimper escaping your throat. 

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Sirius hollard Struggling with the two men holding him as he glared at the women who had dragged you to the ground, were she now also lay. One of the men raised his wand whispering ‘crusio’ Sirius let out a painful scream as he began to write in their grip,

Your vision went red. You landed your foot harshly onto the women Aruors face with a crunch. She shrieked as you darted towards the man holding his wand with a fiery rage. When you reached him you slammed your fist into his face with such force you felt your nails price the skin of your palm. He stumbled backward hand instinctively flying to his jaw, dropping his wand. You snatched the wand from the air and aimed it at second man prepared to unleash hell but before you could utter a spell. You heard a loud yell.

“Stupify!” 

You flew across the room; flying straight in to your china cabinet. You felt your head thunk loudly on something as glass shattered around you. Your back felt like a pincushion, the needles of glass lodged into it. Your vision danced as you felt blood seep down your cheek.

“You fuckers!” The voice sounded so distant, like it was deep underwater, “She didn't do anything, you worthless sacks of shit!” 

“Siri?” you quietly mumbled quietly and suddenly your vision went black. 

You had awoken in a hospital, eyes fluttering open to fluorescent lights. The strong smell of medication and sickness made you want to gag. Suddenly the moments before your world fell, came rushing back to you in a sick wave. You sat up quickly gasping as you felt a searing pain in your lower back.

“Be careful, wouldn't want you to rip out those stitches.” 

“Sirius?’ You asked excitedly. But soon your vision straightened and your eyes locked with a pair of hazel.

“Hey y/n/n.” Remus sighed, his voice strained. He looked terrible, his eyes bloodshot. Dark circles making his face appear sunken. The bright scars on his face blending with his pale complexion. 

“Remus where's Sirius?” you asked. Maybe it was all a dream.

Remus felt tears climb slowly up to his eyes, he gasped for air as if he was being strangled, “None of us saw it coming y/n. I didn't expect you to.” 

You let out a throttle whimper, “He didn't do it Re. I know he didn't. He would never hurt Peter orJames or Lily or Harry.” You gasped. “Harry?”

“You’re getting him,” Remus spoke attempting a smile that turned to a grimace. 

“Where is he now?” You could feel tears seeping down your right cheek but, but not your left. 

“Your house with your parents.” Remus respond as he watched you slowly raise your hand to the bandage just below your lf eye, now damp with salt. “From the china cabinet, your lucky you didn't lose your eye.” 

“Who were those Arours. I’m going to get them fired.” You growled lowly.

“I don’t know y/n but-”

“They used an unforgivable curse on Sirius."  You explained urgently to the man sitting beside you.

Remus cringed as you spoke his name. “Y/n. He was being arrested for murder, they can use whatever force necessary.”

“But it wasn’t necessary!” you cried out suddenly.

“Y/n/n, I don’t really think that’s gonna hold up in court. I mean it would be the word of four respectable Aurors, three of which you banged up pretty bad apparently, verses the confused and delirious fiance of a murderer.” Remus explained slowly as if he were talking to a child. 

You felt blood rush to your cheeks as a dull ache that reminded you slightly of hunger, lodged into your heart. “Stop calling him that.” Your voice was dark and dangerous, for a split second, Remus was completely and utterly terrified of you. 

“Y/n you’re going to have to come to terms with it eventually.” He sighed, his voice holding the disappointment of a mother scolding her child. 

“He didn’t do it, Remus!” You shouted, “How can you possibly believe that-that Sirius would do anything to ever hurt James, hurt Lily, hut Harry? Do you really think that he would do that. Do you truly think that low of him?” 

Each word you spoke was like a knife thrusting into his heart, “Y/n, you know how his parents were, how his brother was, how his whole family was. They had a stronger hold on him than he would ever care to admit, he was a lost cause.” 

“Fuck you, Remus.” You spat, “He changed and you know it. He wasn’t like them. And if you truly believe that he did it, you clearly didn’t know him at all.”

“Y/n-”

“No. You are just using your brain. Your stupid logical brain and you only looked at the evidence. Your not looking at the fact that Sirius loved James. He was like a brother to him. No, he was a brother to him. He saved him. And if you think that Sirius would ever do anything to hurt James, Lily or their son, get the fuck away from me.” 

The werewolf opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a word you cut in. 

“I said get out.” 

He didn’t bother arguing with you. He could see the pain and misery that had consumed you. You were going to need time. You would come around eventually. 

You never did. 

The first year was the worst. The glances, the whispers, the points, the overwhelming sense of pity that made you just about want to drown. The only thing that kept you going was Harry. You had to stay sane, for him. If Harry wasn’t yours you would have gone crazy for sure, maybe ending up in Azkaban right next to your fiance. But you kept a straight face. And you pretended to accept what everyone else seemed to believe to be a fact. 

You continued in the Order but it soon trickled out as Voldemort became less and less relevant. Once you were done with the Oder you got a job as a lawyer in a small law firm. No one at the firm was quite sure how, but you almost had a magical way of getting witnesses to confess directly on the stand. 

You detach yourself from the magical world, know that soon you would have to plunge back into it with Harry soon enough. The years sped by, and soon enough you were taking Harry to platform 9 ¾. You damn near through up as you watched Harry walk onto that platform, images of a boy who had pulled your braids and helped you with Defense Against the Dark Arts years before flashed through your mind. It didn’t help that a young girl who impeccably resembled Lily kept looking your way. 

By Harry’s third year you were heading to Hogwarts every other weekend to watch his quidditch matches. He was better than James. You thought of James and Lily often. Harry looked like James, but his eyes. His eyes would always be Lily. You only dared to think of Sirius in the deep of the night. When it was so dark that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. So late you could convince yourself it was a dream. There was only one person who you kept in your mind constantly. 

Peter Pettigrew.

You knew he was alive. You knew he was somewhere out there. You knew that he had murdered his best friends. You knew he was the reason Sirius was in jail. And you knew you were going to kill him. 

You never spoke of Peter but your mind was clouded by red visions of him. 

You had developed an unexplainable rage towards rats though. Well unexplainable to most. 

But you had finally figured you how to live your life. You had finally mastered the act of pretending when the headline broke. 

When you heard Sirius had escaped you fainted. Harry had shown you the paper and you had crashed straight to the ground. Not but a day later your house was swarming with Aurors. Another thing you seemed to hate beyond a reasonable amount. 

After the people you referred to as vultures left you had met up with Remus, who seemed convinced that Sirius was attempting to kill Harry. You had wanted to slap him. But you swallowed the ever-growing ball of hate and nodded along like a simple-minded bobblehead someone had just flicked. 

You knew you were being watched, you could see their eyes everywhere, following your every move. You kept quiet silently praying Sirius has lost his dumbass energy in jail and had enough sense to stay away from you. He did. 

Reus had called you at 8:00 at night. “Y/n. You need to come here right now.” his voice was so desperate that you couldn’t refuse.

“Where to?” Your voice was a hushed whisper. 

“You know the place we used to camp as kids? James would always try to scare you and always end up getting punched in the face.” 

“Of course. How could I forget?” You giggled slightly the memory of campfires and smores, the feeling a leather jacket that was always wrapped around your shoulder. “I’ll see you in five.”

You once again filled your head with images of that small clearing, the large tree to the right side that you would always try (and fail) to climb. The circle of stumps you had dragged over as James harassed Lily. The scent of pine always so strong and fresh.  And then you opened your eyes and you were there. 

The stumps were decaying into the ground, moss covering them like a blanket of green. Dusk was setting in and the world was growing dark. You could see the lights of Hogwarts in the distance. You glanced up your eyes landing on the one star that shone brightly in the heavy grey sky. 

“Sirius.” You mumbled to yourself. The name rolling off you tongue so easily it hurt. 

“Y/n!” Remis ran towards you his eyes wide with a mixture of panic and excitement.

You turned towards him whipping your hair around. For a second you could have sworn your name had fallen out of someone else’s lips. 

“We have to go. Come on.” 

You followed obediently until you reached the outskirts of the forest. 

Remus stopped suddenly running back to face you. “You have to change.” 

“Change?” you asked. He nodded expectantly. Suddenly you remembered. “But Re I haven’t-” 

“You need to.” 

You sighed closing your eyes and intaking a sharp breath. You felt yourself shrink and grow a fur coat until when you opened your eyes you were looking at Remus’ knees. 

The werewolf smiled down at the pretty black dog below him. You smiled wolfishly at him flashing a pair of sharp k-9 fangs. He just chuckled before sprinting through the grounds. 

You followed easily jogging beside the man. When you reached the whomping willow you wait for Rums to pull his trick before darting into the small cave at its trunk. 

As the cavern began to open up you switched back, happy to be walking on two legs again. Remus soon caught up with you as you entered the shrieking shack. 

There he was, his back turned, hair a frizzy mess you almost giggled childishly at. You felt your heart soar to your throat.

“Ah, Moony, took you lon-” His sentence dropped. As he turned. His eyes locking with yours as you struggled to keep a straight face. Sirius’ eyes widened mouth dropping. “Oh my god.” 

He took two steps toward you, so hesitant and careful, as if moving any faster would cause you to bolt. “Y/n?” his voice was broken. 

“I’m sorry?” You spoke holding back a shit-eating grin, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

His face crumpled and you felt a wave of guilt was over you. He stumbled backward stuttering for words. His mind spinning.

Finally, you broke into a smile, “I’m only kidding Siri.” you giggled, only seconds after you finished your sentence you felt your body collide with his.

His arms wrapped around you so tight you felt your breath squeezed form you lungs. Your heart raced as you nuzzled closer to the man, you felt tears prick your eyes, “I could never forget you.”

Taglist: @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @songforhema

#sirius black x reader #sirius #sirius x reader #sirius black #sirius black imagines #sirius black imagine #sirius black x oc #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter au #harry potter #james potter x oc #james potter imagines #james #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james x lily #jily fic #jily #marauders imagines #marauders au #marauders roleplay #marauders era #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x oc #remus #remus lupin

[h-e-l-l-b-r-o-k-e]

In So Deep [B.H. x you]

Series: part 2 of Without a Doubt

Summary: It’s Halloween, yet old wounds are peeled open.

Inspiration: What About Love by 'Til Tuesday

Word Count: 1721 Warnings: profanity.

Written Date: 11/20-22/2019 Posted Date: 11/27/2019

Parts: [1] [2] [3] [4] [MASTERLIST]

Every teenager in town could only be found at one place on this special night of the year, and that was at Tina’s dazzling abode where being “sheet-faced” is an absolute right to its underage attendees. That year’s Top 40s hits raged through her father’s beloved speakers while the spiked punch was made from her mother’s not-so-secret stash. Yet, Tina, who surprisingly got along with everybody, was nowhere to be found.

“She’s upstairs boning her second college honey,” Samantha closed her compact mirror with a click after checking on her Siouxsie Sioux styled make-up. “It’s like slutty witchcraft or something. I’m kind of jealous.”

“Way to go, Tina,” Y/n, dressed as a less revealing Mistress of the Dark, replied sarcastically. She didn’t even want to be at this stupid party, but Samantha, yet again, had somehow managed to drag her along.

Concerned, Samantha crossed her fish-net covered arms beneath her chest. “Hey, come on, now. None of that debbie downer crap, it’s Halloween.”

And it clearly was. Nearly everyone was donning at least some resemblance of a costume even if most were half-assed. A couple fake spiderwebs occupied the corners of the living room and white streamers hung down from the ceiling. It was minimal effort, but it didn’t matter once heavy liquor coursed through everyone’s veins and clouded their vision. Many were only here for two things: free booze and a hookup.

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks, loosen ourselves up a bit.” Samantha laughed as a thought popped up in her head, “Who knows, maybe one of us will get lucky with one of ‘em college boys.” And, she walked off chuckling to herself, leaving Y/n to stand by herself beside the banister.

Among the dense crowd of familiar and not-so-familiar people, and in-between drinking and basking in the presence of their respective company, two men have had their eyes on the unassuming girl from opposite ends of the house.

Billy Hargrove took turns chugging kegs in the backyard and making rounds inside the house so no one would forget who the new crowned kings was. This routine he established was ordinary; no one would suspect that the grin that would creep up his lips were because of the thought and sight of one girl in black. Even on a night like Halloween, Y/n was a fly among white china.

He has yet to see her tense muscles flail around the makeshift dance-floor without a care. At least she wasn’t glued to a window this time, though a railing that leads up to the less than innocent affairs wasn’t any better.

And then there was Steve Harrington whose sunglasses obscured the obvious staring from his end. He kept a close eye on Billy, whenever he got too close to Y/n for his comfort, making sure he wasn’t shoving some drink into her hand or getting her to venture up the stairs with him. But, then, his eyes would land on her and he’d stop what he was doing.

Guilt would wash over him like a bucket of cold water, and he’d stay like that until Nancy would either drag him out to dance when one o her favorite pop songs came on or sucker him in some conversation about college apps or the party. He couldn’t immerse himself into any of his girlfriend’s topics for he was a guy on a mission.

When Nancy went to get herself something to drink, Steve once again found himself looking across the room at the spot Y/n had been occupying for the past half hour but Samantha was nowhere to be found. This was all almost too good to be true.

Steve had promised himself that he’d just warn his ex-girlfriend about the son of a bitch and then back off. That’s it.

And before his mind could even second guess itself, his long legs strolled over to her on autopilot. Steve never thought he’d ever see Y/n in this light again, but the nostalgic sensation is over too soon when painted eyes land on him.

“What the fuck do you want?”

The sunglasses slid down the tip of his nose as he gazed down at her, and his fingers reached to pluck them off and hook a leg over the crew of his T-shirt. He was an idiot for not expecting Y/n’s hostility, but he tried anyways. “It’s been a while.”

A veil of wariness tightened around her features as she searched around the setting of the party for Carol’s smirking face, Tommy’s obviously feigned oblivion or others glancing over their shoulders, watching this screwed up encounter but she couldn’t even spot one of Nancy’s glossy brunette strands in the pack.

“What are you suppose to be? A vampire?”

Her eyes cut back to him as if he’s a carrot on a chopping block, narrowing down on his moving lips.

Steve sighed, “I guess there’s no beating around the bush, huh?”

The threat wasn’t anyone else, Y/n observed, but Steve. He has gone rogue.

“There’s something I should tell you…” her eyebrows knitted together as the boy she wished to never speak to again spoke, “How do I even go about this?”

“Easy. Don’t,” the wooden banister had begun to dig into her spine, “Ignore whatever thought is snaking through your head like you did with everything else.”

Samantha’s saving grace was nowhere to be found and everyone was either too high on coke or too drunk from too many shots to notice this tension between the once “it” couple of Hawkins. It was as if nothing had changed, as if she was still sixteen wearing corduroy skirts. This only made the suffocation worse.

Steve’s always been stubborn, and if it wasn’t for his longer hair Y/n would have been hook, line, and sinker back to those intimate moments of the past.  “Look—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Steve!” thousands of phantom pins pricked her nerves, “If it’s some bullshit from a year ago—”

“Okay. Okay,” Steve ran his fingers through his voluminous locks, “I get it. The past is in the past, but…”

As he peered into her eyes, time became nonlinear even though she no longer resembled the soft girl who’d be wrapped under his arms. His dimension warped, transcending back to 1982 when most of what he knew was her. But, Y/n wasn’t caressed nor suckled in by these old sensations. She was over the effects they had had on her, but to Steve, they were now almost pined for.

He blinked a couple times and took her silence as a means to continue. “There’s this guy. I think he has a thing for you; he had that band, you know, the one you’d sometimes play in my car, written on his hand,” Steve swallows the saliva on his tongue, “Billy’s not good news.”

“Billy?” Y/n asked incredulously. “The new kid? The guy who struts down the halls like he owns them like..like you once did?” Y/n scoffed, “You’re just playing me.”

“This isn’t a joke,” the desperation that laced his words tasted bitter, “Y/n, I just don’t want to see you hurt…”

“What? You mean—” she held back a sob and shook her head “—you mean, like you hurt me?”

Nothing else existed during this meeting between old lovers, only emotions that have been deeply suppressed under forced blindness and deafness. Like lava bursting out of a volcano, old emotions crumbled through the walls Y/n had spent months building around herself. She was pissed. Beyond pissed that Steve still had the power to make her cry.

But, then a soft whisper broke through the smothering music, swishing through her crumbling dam. “I never thought it was bullshit, Y/n,” his fist were kept clenched by his sides, oppressing their natural instinct to wipe away her tears, “even when I was acting like a dick, it’s not bullshit.”

Steve then realized he hadn’t done what he told himself he’d do—warn her, then go back to a thoughtless night with Nancy. His sneakers were glued onto the floor before Y/n and a part of him needed to know how this thing with the girl he had soiled would end. He was tipsy under Y/n’s teary gaze, though he had yet to enjoy a sip of alcohol, hoping for some deeper reconciliation between the two of them. Perhaps, involving the innocent molding of lips. However, he knew he’d be ashamed tomorrow if he did the same thing to Nancy tonight that he had once done to Y/n.

Y/n sniffled. “Go back to Nancy, Steve.”

Steve watched her go. Watched as she ran away before the cracks of her makeshift wall could lead to a bigger spill. Cutting and shoving through people who stared after her either in confusion or annoyance, Y/n didn’t care. She was alone in a house full of people she had grown up with in this town, and Samantha never came back to her with the drinks she had promised.

A beer can held up near his lips, Billy caught the pain on your features as you ran past him and out Tina’s front door. He didn’t know what was going on, but he soon found himself following Y/n’s tracks.

A/N: And then of course, the moment you walked away from Steve was followed by the scene in which drunk Nancy confesses that their relationship is bullshit, but hey, things will be looking up for you! ANYWAYS, there’s for sure gonna be another part to this. I had to stop here because I didn’t want this to be too long.

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #st #st imagine #st imagines #reader insert #billy x y/n #billy x reader #steve x you #steve x reader

[averykedavra]

Leave No Trace (Chap. 3)

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

Supper that night was salad and bread, eaten with wooden forks. The metal dishes had been taken, so they used china plates and bowls instead. Patton didn't understand why dragons only took iron objects. But he did understand, now, how they could have stolen such small objects. They'd just have to fly in, turn into humans when no one was looking, and take the dishes. A lot of things made sense now that he knew a little more about dragons.

It was a quiet supper. Virgil and Patton briefly told them about the visit to the library, but since Patton didn't want to tell his moms about Janus—he had the feeling they might not be too thrilled about it—there wasn't much else to say. Patton munched on salad and ignored Virgil's occasional piercing looks. He expected his moms to comment on the silence, but they also stared at their salad and didn't talk.

Finally Mama looked at Mom and they had a silent conversation. Mom put down her fork.

"Boys…" Mama placed her hands on the table. "There's something we need to tell you."

Virgil's hand jerked and he almost spilled salad onto the table. "What?"

Usually Mom would say 'Nothing bad, I promise.' This time she only squeezed his hand.

Virgil glanced between them, looking more and more nervous. Patton took Virgil's other hand.

"We were at the town meeting today," Mama began, drawing out each word. "Everyone's accounted for, except…"

Patton forgot how to breathe. Virgil's grip on his hand was painful. Blood pounded in his ears. He stared at his moms, trying to spy any inkling of hope, see anything that told him something that wasn't what he thought they were saying.

"Except what?" Patton asked, trying to smile. "Finish your sentences!"

"They're gone," Virgil whispered, eyes wide. "Aren't they?"

Something in Mom's expression broke, and something in Mama's eyes softened.

"No one has seen Logan or Remus since the raid."

Virgil made a little choked noise.

"That doesn't mean they're not alive," Mom hastily added. "Just that they haven't been found."

"Runa."

Mom glanced at Mama. "And…well, there have been some witnesses. It seems most likely that they've, well, been taken. By the dragons."

"What?" Patton hated the way his voice cracked. "Dragons do that?"

"Sometimes," Mama answered. "Nobody knows why."

Virgil shook his head numbly. "They're gone?"

"Hey," Patton whispered, "they're not gone. They're okay."

"'Okay?' You call kidnapped by dragons 'okay?'" Virgil's eyes were wild. "They're probably getting eaten or something!"

Patton flinched. "Kiddo—"

"Sorry," Virgil muttered.

"They're alive," Patton amended, running his thumb over Virgil's palm. "That's better than nothing."

Virgil glared at nothing in particular. "Is anyone going after them?"

"We don't have enough willing citizens for a rescue mission," Mom murmured. "It's not safe enough for anyone to risk it. I'm sorry."

"See?" Virgil spat. "They're not dead, but they're as good as." He pulled his hand out of Patton's. "Just when I think I've got something dragons can't destroy, boom! They burn it to the damn ground."

"Virgil—"

"Forget it." Virgil kicked his chair out and stood up. "I'm—I'm going to my room, Pat. Talk to you later."

Patton opened his mouth to say something, something that would fix this. Virgil was gone before he could. His footsteps rang loud on the stairs.

"Patton," Mama started.

Patton didn't wait around to hear the rest of that sentence. Or worse, a question he couldn't help but answer. Quickly he shoveled down the rest of his salad, tossed the dishes in the sink, and sped upstairs with an "I'm tired, gonna take a nap!" Nobody followed.

Virgil's door was closed. Patton knocked on it. Nobody answered.

"I'll be here," Patton said into the keyhole. "If you need me."

He didn't sleep that night, staring at the hole in his ceiling, straining for any sign of movement from Virgil. On other nights Virgil might have knocked on his door, small and scared, and they'd end up cuddling or telling stories or playing games until Virgil felt better. Tonight there was nothing. Just a hot night filled with bugs that bit at Patton's arms.

When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were filled with dragons and fires and burning scales.

A few times he woke up, heart pounding, watching that hole like he expected to see flames lighting up the sky. Or the door, like he selfishly wished Virgil or his moms would come check on him.

But there were no fires and no Virgil. Just Patton, trying his very best to sleep.

  Virgil didn't talk to Patton for a day. Patton tried not to take it personally, but it did sting. Virgil just needed time, Patton knew that. He'd be okay. They'd be okay.

And sure enough, the next day, Virgil smiled at Patton over breakfast eggs and helped him with chores. He still didn't say much, but Patton understood.

They fixed the hole in the roof, with the help of the Acevedos down the road. They ordered new plates and cutlery and tools in the mail, hoping it would come back from the city as soon as possible. Patton volunteered with some rebuilding projects and Virgil helped distribute food. Mom and Mama spent a lot of time with the town council, talking through how they could bounce back from this. It wasn't even close to perfect, but somehow Patton found his balance, mostly by focusing on what he could do and not what he couldn't. He focused on helping everyone around him, ignoring the two people he couldn't.

Roman was released from the library a few days later. It was evening, the sun setting in the distance. The library was closed to visitors. Virgil pulled Patton away from where he was grabbing eggs from the chickens and they ran to the library door. Patton had to stop himself from hugging the life out of Roman—he was still injured—and settled for a wave and a huge smile.

"Careful," Virgil said, grabbing Roman's arm and helping him down the steps.

Roman huffed. "You know, I didn't hurt either of my legs. I can walk just fine."

Virgil didn't let go. Roman's expression softened and he slipped his hand into Virgil's. Virgil looked marginally comforted. Patton skipped alongside them, looking over Roman. He was a little pale and his entire shoulder was covered in bandages, but his smile was almost as bright as ever.

"You're an idiot," Virgil mumbled, helping Roman navigate a patch of uneven stone.

"Am I now?" Roman asked, watching the sun set between the buildings.

"Yes!" Virgil snapped. "Roman, you could have gotten yourself killed!"

Roman winced. "Okay. Right out the gate, then."

"Virgil?" Patton asked, sensing trouble. "Maybe we save this until Roman's, you know, home? Maybe even wait until he's healed?"

Virgil glared at Roman. "If he's well enough to walk, he's well enough to let me yell at him."

"Don't bother, Padre," Roman said, giving a half-hearted grin. "I knew this was coming."

"You're an idiot!" Virgil repeated, throwing up his hands in the air. "I hate you so much! What were you thinking? You should have waited somewhere safe instead of throwing yourself into a fight like the reckless fool you are! Don't you have any sense of self-preservation?"

"The dragon would have killed those people!" Roman fired back weakly.

"The dragon almost killed you!" Virgil looked exasperated. "What, is your life worth less than those people? You did absolutely nothing but get yourself injured for some pursuit of glory!"

"This is not about 'glory,'" Roman argued. "It was about doing what's right."

"Yeah, because it's 'right' to throw yourself into dangerous situations—"

"Kiddos," Patton interrupted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Um, we really shouldn't be arguing right now—"

"I don't need your judgment!" Roman snapped, ignoring Patton entirely. "It's my life and I can make my own decisions! This is none of your business and it doesn't affect you!"

"Yes, it does!" Virgil threw out a hand. "We had to save you! Patton—"

"Please leave me out of this," Patton pleaded.

"Patton had to get you to safety! Patton attacked a dragon for you, Roman! And thanks to you and your stupidity, Remus and Logan were—"

Roman's eyes hardened. "So it's my fault that my brother and friend were kidnapped."

Virgil froze. "I—Roman, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"It's fine." Roman snatched his hand out of Virgil's and stalked down the road. "I get it."

"Roman!" Virgil called, running after him. "I—I didn't mean that, it just slipped out, of course it's not your fault—"

"I get it!" Roman yelled. "Just stop talking! I'm going to fix it!"

"Wait, you—" Virgil stopped. "Wait, 'fix it?'"

"Fix it," Roman repeated. "I'll find them and I'll fix it."

"Find them?" Virgil blinked. "Wait—Roman, no way!"

"You just said it was my fault!" Roman said hysterically. "It makes sense!"

"But you can't just—" Virgil stepped closer to Roman, his face filled with incredulousness. "What, do you think you'll just stroll through the Iron Woods and knock on the dragons' door? You can't do that!"

"Has anyone ever tried?" Roman pointed out.

"You don't need to try drinking poison to know it'll freaking kill you!"

"Virgil." Roman's voice cracked. "Virgil, I need to do something."

"No, you don't," Virgil said. "No, you don't. You're hurt and you need to heal and you can't put yourself in danger for this."

"I—I have to!" Roman swiped at his eyes. "Virge, he's gone, they're both gone and I—"

"I know. Believe me, I know. But you can't—you're not hunting them down. I won't let you do that." Virgil sighed. "Roman, can I hug you?"

Roman nodded.

Virgil stepped forward and carefully wrapped his arms around Roman's middle, tucking his head on Roman's good shoulder. Roman lifted one arm and curled it around Virgil's shoulders, burying his face in Virgil's hair.

The sun was going down. The shadows lengthened around them. At the end of the road, the lantern lighter sent a burst of fire into the air. Half the lanterns had been taken, ripped from the ground. Nearby was a burned building, blackened and twisted.

"I hate this," Roman mumbled. "Not being able to help."

"Yeah," Virgil agreed.

Patton watched them, the sunset sending deep orange over their faces, still and silent on the cobblestone road.

Roman couldn't save them, he knew that. But if he didn't…who would?

"I'll do it."

Virgil frowned, peering over at Patton. "Do what, Pat?"

"I'll rescue them," Patton said, stepping forward.

"You're joking." Roman laughed. "You're joking, Padre."

"No, I'm not." Patton crossed his arms. "You're hurt but I'm not. It makes sense."

"It doesn't!" Virgil stared at him in disbelief. "Seriously, Pat, what? We were just saying how we can't go and rescue them—"

"You were saying how Roman can't go and rescue them." Patton's heart pounded, but he had never been more certain of anything in his life. "I can still do it."

"There are a million reasons why—" Virgil pushed himself out of Roman's arms and stalked forward, glowering. "Our moms would be mad."

"They'd understand!"

"No, they wouldn't! Because nobody would! Because you're being stupid!" Virgil threw up his hands. "Roman, back me up here!"

"I—" Roman glanced between them. "I think both arguments have…good points?"

"Thanks a lot," Virgil growled.

"I don't see what the problem is," Patton insisted. "I'll go to the Iron Woods, get Logan and Remus back from the dragons, and be back soon!"

"What do you mean you'll just get them back?" Virgil yelled. "Are you just going to ask politely?"

"Maybe?" Patton squeaked. "Nobody's actually tried diplomacy yet!"

"That's because they're dragons!" Virgil waved a hand at the burned buildings nearby. "This happened three days ago, Patton, and you're acting like you can just waltz into their home base and get our friends back?"

"No," Patton admitted. "But—I want to try."

"Pat." Virgil's eyes softened. "I get it. I really do. But I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't get hurt," Patton protested.

"How do you know that?" Virgil huffed. "Dragons, Patton. Big with sharp teeth and fire."

Patton shrugged. "I dunno, Janus seemed okay."

"One dragon who didn't immediately murder you does not mean all the rest won't!" Virgil laughed hysterically, running his fingers through his hair. "Roman, back me up here!"

Roman looked over from where he was apparently trying to hide himself in the shadows. "Um, no opinion here, carry on with your arguing, preferably keeping me very far out of this."

"Coward," Virgil snapped.

"What do you want me to say?" Roman burst out. "Because, yes, I don't want Patton to get hurt! I think him going is a terrible idea! But you wouldn't let me go, and I don't see anyone else stepping up! I care about Patton, but I care about my brother too! And I know it's a stupid idea that will just get Patton killed…but—" Roman shook his head. "Virgil, there's a chance that it'll work. An actual chance." Roman wiped at his eyes. "And it terrifies me how much I'm willing to risk for that chance."

Virgil's expression was unreadable. "A small chance."

"A tiny chance," Roman agreed, his voice small. "But a chance, Virge."

"Yeah." Virgil swallowed, staring at his feet. "I get that."

"I won't get hurt," Patton promised. "I'll be careful. I'll bring supplies and if anything bad happens I'll turn around. Dragons don't kill people unprovoked, right? We're just collateral damage."

Virgil looked torn. "I dunno, I think sometimes—"

"They won't kill me." Patton spoke with all the conviction he didn't feel. "I can figure out why they want Logan and Remus and I can make some sort of deal with them, maybe? Or even find out why they need all that metal!"

"Fine," Virgil said grudgingly, "let's assume that by some miracle the dragons accept you as one of their own and bow before your wisdom. What about the Iron Woods?"

"Those don't actually exist, right?" Roman asked. "They're just a legend."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "You say this in front of someone who's part faerie."

"I know, I know!" Roman held up his hands. "I'm not saying the fair folk aren't real. I'm just saying there's no evidence the Iron Woods actually are where everyone says they are."

"That's true," Virgil admitted. "But just because nobody's seen them doesn't mean they're not there!"

Roman laughed. "Don't tell Logan that, he'd get mad."

Virgil didn't laugh. Patton pressed his lips together and ignored the ugly twist in his stomach.

"But if the Fae are actually there," Roman said, "you're right. That would be a problem."

"Did you just admit I'm right? Never thought I'd see the day."

"Don't let yourself get a big head."

"Okay," Patton said, stepping between them. "I…I have an idea."

He didn't, actually. He had the start of a terrible idea that probably wouldn't work and that Virgil definitely wouldn't like. But it was a start. It was a start.

Patton knew he wasn't going to turn back. He was going to save Remus and Logan. He was going to fight on Roman's behalf. He was going to help people, because that's what Patton did. Helped and never hurt. And if he wasn't helping, he was hurting. He was going to help because it was the right thing to do.

"Hear me out," Patton said. "I'll explore some options and if it's not working, we won't do this. But I want to check out a few possibilities? If that's okay?"

"I guess," Virgil said, side-eyeing Roman. "Yeah?"

"I…" Roman winced. "I'd really like to, but I haven't been home for three days?"

"Oh!" Patton gasped. "Right! Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine." Roman waved a hand. "Actually, now that I think about it, let's do this."

"Really?" Virgil asked.

Roman winced and looked away. "My parents are…not doing very well right now."

Patton's eyes widened and he resisted the urge to glomp Roman in a hug. Roman was injured. Patton couldn't just tackle-hug him, even though he clearly really needed a tackle-hug.

"I love you," Patton said instead.

"Uh, yeah!" Roman looked confused but gratified. "Love you too, Pat!"

"Great." Patton tapped his fingers together. "And you'd love me no matter what I said we were doing, right?"

"What are we doing?" Virgil asked, looking more and more alarmed.

"Nothing that bad!" Patton said hastily. "Just…kind of not-good. By my standards, anyway."

"Yeah?" Roman looked sort of excited. "Okay!"

Patton took a deep breath.

"Help me break into the library."

  It wasn't actually breaking in. It wasn't actually breaking in. It wasn't actually breaking in.

Patton recited that to himself over and over as they snuck in the back door of the library.

It was dark inside. Virgil immediately tripped and swore loudly. Patton tried to shush him while simultaneously reaching for a wall. Eventually his eyes adjusted to the dimness and he saw the shapes of the back passageway, a few boxes of books by the wall.

"Where do we go?" Roman asked.

"Shh!" Patton said again.

"I think it's this way?" Virgil said, pointing.

"I can't see where you're pointing," Roman complained. "It's dark."

"Shh!"

Virgil led the way to the rotunda, slipping through the halls and creeping around corners. Patton followed, tripping over his own feet and stumbling into boxes. Even Roman was more stealthy than him, and Roman had a wounded arm.

They stopped at the rotunda. Despite the lateness of the hour, doctors and nurses still bustled around, the candlelight throwing splashes of orange over their faces. Shadows lurked between the bookshelves, pooled across the floor, and hung from the ceiling.

"What now?" Patton asked as quietly as possible.

"Wasn't this your idea?" Virgil hissed. "I don't even know why we're here! Well, I mean, I've kind of figured it out but it better not be what I think it is."

Patton giggled. "Ah-heh, um, okay then. Right."

"They won't be able to see us in the dark," Roman pointed out. "If you're planning to walk out there, act like you belong and it'll probably be fine."

Patton was starting to regret this plan. He should have at least waited until the library opened in the morning.

"Come on," Roman said, shoving them into the rotunda. "No turning back now."

Patton squeaked and tried to look natural.

"Oh, you're coming too!" Virgil grabbed Roman's arm and tugged him forward. "No getting out of this."

Roman kicked Virgil in the knee, and Virgil swore at him. Patton frantically tried to quiet them. The nurse nearest to them slowed, her candle swinging around to face them.

"Walk," Roman whispered. "Now."

So Patton, Virgil, and Roman walked down the aisle between hospital beds. Patton tiptoed on his feet and tried to look taller than five foot three. Roman drew up his chin and Virgil tapped manically on his leg.

"So where are we going?" Roman whispered.

Patton braced himself for the explosion. "Um, we're visiting Janus?"

"I knew it." Virgil's voice was strangled. "I knew it."

"Wait, what?" Roman asked. "Who?"

"Janus," Virgil repeated. "Aka the dragon who, you know, attacked you."

"What?" Roman yelled.

A dozen candles swiveled in their direction.

Virgil swore and tugged them both into a gap between shelves, slapping his hand over Roman's mouth. Patton held his breath and prayed for the people to look away. He couldn't see whether they were looking at them, but that was a good sign because maybe they couldn't see him, either.

Finally Patton breathed a sigh of relief as nobody came over to check on them. Crime-committing was very stressful. He was never doing this again.

"What," Roman repeated calmly.

"What?" Patton asked.

"You know his name?" Roman asked.

"Yes."

"You talked to him?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Roman clicked his tongue. "I don't know how I feel about that."

"Me either," Patton admitted.

"Look." Virgil pushed himself off the shelf. "This is a terrible idea, but we're already in the library, so let's just get this over with."

"Okay." Patton said. "Where is he?"

"You're the one who talked to him!"

"Um." Patton scanned the beds. "I think he was that direction? Wait, where'd we come in from again?"

"Come on." Virgil groaned. "Pat, I love you, but this was a terrible idea."

"Sorry."

"Well, the entrance is over there," Roman said, pointing. "And my bed was there. Does that help?"

Patton stuck his tongue between his teeth and pointed at the different spots. "Okay, so if I—it was like, diagonal—got it!" Patton clapped his hands. "It's across that way!"

"You sure?" Virgil asked.

"Paw-sitive!"

"Alright then." Virgil led them across the floor, dipping around beds and avoiding as many people as possible. "This way?"

"Little more to the left!"

"There's a bed in the way to the left!"

"Not that far left!"

Virgil sighed and kept walking. Patton directed him as needed and soon they came to a group of beds near the wall. Patton scanned the people around them. Most were asleep. None of them were Janus.

"What does Janus look like?" Roman asked.

"Long brown hair," Patton said. "Yellow eyes. A giant burn on his face."

"What?"

"Long story."

"Um, okay." Roman looked around. "Is that him?"

Patton looked over. Yep. It was Janus, lying on his side with his hand tucked under his head. He was—oh. He was staring right at them, his eyes glittering in the candlelight.

"Um," Patton whispered. "Can dragons see in the dark?"

"What—" Virgil looked at Janus. "Oh no."

"He won't hurt us," Patton said, trying to convince himself. "He's still hurt."

"That may be," Roman said, "but I am really regretting not bringing my sword."

Janus' shoulders tensed.

Patton glanced at Roman. "I think he heard you."

"He'd better," Virgil muttered. "I don't like this, Pat. I don't."

"He's a dragon!" Patton whispered. "If anyone can tell us what dragons are like and how to get Logan and Remus back, it's him!"

"That's—" Roman paused. "Hey, that's actually a good point."

Virgil growled. "I hate that you're right. Fine, we'll try it your way. Let's talk to him."

Patton stepped around a bed and walked towards Janus, waving hello. Janus' eyes narrowed and he pushed himself off the bed so that his legs swung around to the floor.

"Are you supposed to do that?" Patton asked.

Janus snorted. "Yes, because my facial injury renders me incapable of movement."

It was true that his face looked better. Not great, but better. The bandages were smaller and the skin around the burn was starting to heal. It would leave a scar, Patton could tell, but it hopefully wouldn't leave any long-term damage.

"Okay, so hi." Patton waved again. "We need to talk to you!"

"We." Janus' eyes skimmed over Virgil and Roman. "Who is we?"

"This is Virgil, and this is Roman!" Patton pointed to Virgil. "He's my best friend and favorite human!"

Virgil winced slightly.

"And Roman's my other best friend and other favorite human!" Patton continued. "So what happened is two of my other best friends and favorite humans got kidnapped!"

Janus watched him warily. "You are ruining the meaning of the terms 'favorite' and 'best'."

"Well, I have a lot of friends!" Patton gasped. "Oh! You can be my favorite dragon!"

Somehow Janus' suspicious and contemptuous glare grew even more suspicious and contemptuous.

"So our friends got kidnapped," Patton continued, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "By some of your dragon friends? And—"

"Death or ransom?"

"What?"

"You either want to kill me or use me as a bargaining tool," Janus explained. "Which is it?"

"Neither! No!" Patton stared at him in horror. "What? That's terrible!"

"It is, but I suppose you wouldn't care about my opinion on the matter." Janus spread his hands. "Death or kidnapping? I understand if you need time to choose."

"We're not doing either of those!" Patton insisted.

"I dunno…" Virgil smirked. "I think both ideas have merit, we could just—"

"Virgil!" Patton exclaimed.

"I'm just saying it would solve our problem—"

Patton opened his mouth to firmly tell Virgil that murder or kidnapping was not the solution here, two wrongs did not make a right, when Janus stood up, chucked a candle at them, and bolted.

Oh. Oops.

"Virgil," Patton said tightly. "He's running away now."

"I was joking!" Virgil protested. "I thought it was obvious!"

"Clearly not to him," Roman said, watching Janus leap over several beds and disappear through the front door. A few doctors and nurses yelled at him but he didn't turn around.

"Great," Patton said. Okay, that was too bitter. He injected a bunch of bounce into his words and ran forward. "Fantastic! Wonderful! Let's go!"

Roman and Virgil followed. Doctors and nurses were staring at them, a few stepping forward to ask them questions.

"Sorry!" Patton called. "We committed a crime and we're very sorry! Goodbye!"

Virgil made a choked noise that could have been laughter or tears.

Roman reached the doors first and slammed them open. Virgil and Patton followed, darting around the passageway to the atrium. The man at the desk was asleep, drooling on the wood. The library doors swung in the wind. It was even darker outside than Patton remembered—he tripped twice on the way down the steps.

"Where—" Virgil panted, hands on his knees. "Where'd he go?"

"There!" Roman pointed. A small figure was running down the road. Patton ran forward, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling Janus' name. Janus didn't slow down.

"We're not going to hurt you!" Patton yelled. "I promise!"

Janus seemed to run even faster.

"Come on!" Roman complained. "You're our best shot at finding my brother and you're running away, which is very rude! I'll have you know I'm injured!"

"Not helping, Princey."

"I didn't ask for your opinion."

"Please!" Patton yelled. He was running out of breath. "Can we please talk?"

Janus finally, finally slowed down. Patton could see his silhouette as he stumbled to a stop, the last dying embers of sunlight behind him, feet planted squarely on the pavement.

Then he doubled over and his shadow lengthened.

Two wings burst out of his back, stretching into the air. They flapped once, the webbing catching the air, taller than Patton. When Patton looked back down at Janus he was gone, replaced by four strong legs and a tail curled around them. Two horns accentuated the bridge over his eyes, which glowed yellow in the lanternlight.

"Oh no," Patton whispered. "Oh no."

"He's gonna freak everyone out," Virgil added, eyes wide, his hands already shaking. "Everyone's gonna be terrified, this is really bad—"

Janus—well, the dragon, the dragon that was Janus, although it was hard to hold onto that when Patton was faced with two glowing yellow eyes and a pattern of burns over the scales—flapped his wings again, pushing off the pavement. He didn't get far. The street was narrow and his wings couldn't stretch all the way. He stumbled back to the ground, hissing at them.

"He can't take off," Patton realized.

Janus hissed again, louder, and a wisp of fire spat towards them. But it fizzled out before it reached them. Patton had a feeling that was on purpose.

"What do we do?" Roman yelled, waving his hand helplessly.

"I don't know!" Virgil said, looking equally helpless and even more terrified.

Janus lowered himself on his haunches, tail bristling, wings folded around him. His teeth were bared. He growled low in his throat, rattling Patton's bones.

But he wasn't attacking. He was just…preparing. He just wanted to defend himself.

He was scared.

Patton gathered all his courage and hoped Fae luck had his back.

He held up his hands and slowly walked forward.

"Hey," Patton said, "Janus. I get it. This is probably super overwhelming right now and it totally makes sense that you want to leave! But you can't right now. You're still injured, you can't take off from here, and we need your help."

"What are you doing?" Virgil hissed.

Patton gave Virgil a cheerful wave and continued walking, keeping his pace steady. On the first few steps Janus tensed, shrinking backwards, but he soon stopped, eyeing Patton warily.

"Our friends got taken," Patton continued, "and I'm going to go rescue them. But I don't really, well, know what I'm doing. At all. So…I figured I could ask you for help! You're a dragon, and I'm assuming those dragons are your family? You can help us, and—" An idea came to Patton. "We can help you get back to your family! I bet you miss them, and I bet they miss you. So we can find a good place for you to take off after you help! Would that make you feel better?"

Janus growled one more time and flapped his wings.

Then they shrank into his body, his tail whipped into thin air, the spines and ridges flattened, and Janus stood there, bandages still on his face, arms folded.

"You don't know a thing about me or how I feel," Janus said mildly, "and if you speak to me in that condescending tone again, I will rip your throat out."

"Oh." Patton's relief faltered slightly. "Oh! Okay! Glad you, um, changed back to human! That's really helpful and will probably lead to less town-wide freaking out!"

"It was mainly to insult you," Janus explained. "Also to leave this town by foot, since apparently you humans build all your houses too close together."

"Sorry, we didn't really plan on, y'know, dragons needing to take off." Patton shifted. "So…will you help?"

Janus stared at him. "I have absolutely nothing to gain from helping you. I can get to the dragons on my own and you're mounting an attack against my people. Why on earth would I help?"

"Because it's…it would be really nice of you?"

Janus sighed so deeply that flames licked the edges of his mouth before curling and disappearing into the air with a hiss.

Roman and Virgil approached on either side of Patton, flanking him. Patton really wished they wouldn't, it made them seem too confrontational for his tastes.

"You're not really in a position to bargain," Virgil pointed out.

"Hey!" Patton complained. "No threatening!"

"Well, clearly being nice to him isn't working!" Virgil shrugged. "Take it from a jerk: we'll only do stuff if we're forced to."

"Kiddo, don't talk bad about yourself! And Janus may be a jerk—sorry, Janus—but that doesn't mean we can't treat him with respect!"

"He can't fly."

Patton and Virgil both turned to look at Roman. "What?" Patton asked.

"You could have left," Roman said, staring at Janus. "You weren't supposed to be on the ground with us at all, were you? You could have flown away and you didn't. You can't fly, can you? At least, not very far."

"I can fly," Janus snarled.

"Are you hurt?" Patton tried to inspect him. "Injuries carry over, right? Is it an arm injury? Wait, what corresponds to your wings? Is it—"

"I can fly!" Janus snapped. "It's none of your business!"

"Sure," Virgil said, "you being really defensive about it definitely doesn't lead to the other conclusion."

"If you say so. You can fly," Patton agreed. "But, hypothetically. If you couldn't. Would you appreciate…coming with me? I could use your help on the journey and you could use a way back to your family. We could work together!"

Janus stared at him, eyes narrowed. "I am not desperate enough to spend any extended amount of time with you."

Patton shrugged. "Your loss! I'm just trying to help!"

"I'm coming too," Virgil added. "Don't know if that'll change your mind, but best to be honest about everything."

"Wait." Patton frowned. "Who said you were coming?"

"Hey, yeah!" Roman rounded on Virgil. "We did not agree on that!"

"What, you think I'm just gonna let Pat go alone?" Virgil asked. "I'm coming to help! He'll be in danger!"

"I won't be alone," Patton said. "I'll have Janus."

Virgil glanced at Janus with distaste. "Like I said, you'll be in danger."

"Rude," Janus said, inspecting his fingernails.

"I'm going," Virgil continued. "I want to protect you. You don't know how to fight, I do. I have a crossbow."

"You'll get hurt!" Patton protested.

"And if I don't go, you'll get hurt." Virgil crossed his arms. "Prove me wrong."

A million arguments bubbled up, crowding on the edge of Patton's tongue. They all boiled down to no. Virgil wasn't supposed to be in danger. He wasn't supposed to risk everything for Patton. Patton was the one that helped! He didn't need help! Virgil was going to get himself hurt!

But…but Virgil wanted to. And it was Virgil's choice.

And maybe, just maybe, Patton wanted Virgil by his side.

"Okay." Patton stared at the ground and ignored the guilty feeling in his chest. "Okay. You can come if you want."

"Wait, really?" Virgil gave a half-delirious laugh. "That was easier than I thought."

"Wait," Roman said, frowning. "How come he gets to go and I don't? If Virgil's going, then I'm coming too."

"Okay, that's where I draw the line." Patton poked a finger at Roman. "You are injured. You need to go home and rest."

"I'll be fine, I—"

"Do you want your parents to lose another son?"

Roman froze.

"Do you want that?" Patton repeated softly. "I don't think doing that to them would be a very nice thing, Ro."

Roman opened his mouth to respond and closed it again, sinking and rubbing his eyes. "I. I guess not."

"Right," Patton said firmly, giving Roman a bracing smile. "We'll be okay on our own, Roman. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Roman teased.

"Who says I can't keep it?" Patton laughed. "Watch me, Roman."

"Alright then." Roman reached out and ruffled Patton's hair. "Never underestimate your amazingness. Got it."

"You should go home," Patton said, taking Roman's hand and gently shoving it away. "Your parents will want to see you."

"I guess," Roman said, glancing at Janus. "Shame to miss all the action, though."

"You're injured."

"Fine." Roman gave Patton a smile. "Stay safe, Patton. And…thank you. I can't even begin to say how much this means to me."

Patton beamed, feeling happiness spark inside of him. Definitely worth it.

"I'll take care of him, don't worry." Virgil stepped forward and gave Roman a quick, one-armed hug. "Hang in there, Princey."

"Will do."

Patton waved goodbye, and Roman took the hint. He walked down the road towards his house, turning back every few seconds and waving again. Finally he turned the corner and was out of sight. Patton almost sunk to the ground in relief. He'd been petrified Roman would make a last-ditch attempt to throw himself into the line of fire. Thankfully, the crisis was averted.

"Um, pardon me." Janus looked between Patton and Virgil. "This is very heartwarming and all, but I've been standing here for the past minute or so and I'm getting quite bored. Am I still relevant or can I leave?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Patton turned to him, smiling. "We were just figuring out our party. Now that Virgil's along for the ride, officially, we can keep going! If you come with us, it'll be a nice threesome! All three of us together! Like buddies! Three's a nice number, don't you think? Not a crowd at all! The Rule of Three says we'll kick more butt if there's three of us."

Janus glanced at Virgil. "Is he always this bad at negotiating?"

"Janus." Patton stepped forward, holding out a hand. "I need your help. We need your help. And we can help you in return. You seem…alright. If somewhat mean. And I know you hurt Roman and I'm still very mad at you for that, and I know I hurt you and you're probably mad at me for that burn, which is fair, but—"

"Hold on. Time out." Janus' eyes hardened. "You did what?"

Fiddlesticks.

He didn't actually remember.

And of course, of course he phrased it as a question, so Patton would have to answer.

"I…um…" Patton waved a hand at the side of Janus' face and waited for death. "I did that?"

"Alright." Janus' jaw was clenched. "Glad we got that cleared up. Continue."

"Oh!" Patton tried not to look too relieved. "I don't have much else to say, really. Just that we'll get you to your family, and that we promise not to hurt you or any of the other dragons! We just want our friends back and we'll be on our way."

"Mhm." Janus nodded slowly. "Because I can absolutely trust your word, Patton Foster."

"You remembered my name?"

"You're a memorable person."

Patton was pretty sure that was some sort of layered insult, but still, awesome! "You can trust me! I can't lie, so you're safe!"

Janus frowned. "What do you mean, you 'can't lie?'"

"I'm part Fae," Patton explained, "so it's physically impossible for me to lie."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Janus gave him a searching look. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen years and eight months!"

"I'm fifteen," Virgil added.

"What's your mom's maiden name?"

"Tanaka. And she kept it."

"What's your most embarrassing moment?"

Patton flushed but couldn't stop the words tumbling from his mouth. "I peed my pants in my elementary school chorus concert?"

Janus snickered. "Second most embarrassing moment?"

"I-got-stuck-in-a-tree-trunk-once and that's beside the point!" Patton ignored Virgil's laughter. "Do you believe me now?"

"Patton Foster." Janus savored each syllable. "Do you, now or in the future, have any intentions of harming me or any dragon we encounter?"

"No," Patton responded. "I don't like hurting things."

"Hmm." Janus paused, his eyes moving as he concentrated. "I'll come."

"Wait, really?" Patton squealed. "That's fantastic!"

"Wait. Really?" Virgil grimaced. "Oh no."

"Thank you so much! You won't regret this!" Patton jumped forward for a celebratory hug. Janus grabbed his shirt and shoved him away.

"Okay, no hugs! Cool!" Patton's excitement barely dimmed. "Oh, I'm so glad! This is going to be amazing."

"I have to be with him." Virgil's voice was blank. "For an extended period of time."

"We'll all be such good friends!" Patton continued. "Come on, Virgil, this is good news! Turn that frown of yours upside down!"

Virgil did not.

"What now?" Janus asked, eyes flicking to the sky. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Patton decided. "We'll all need to get some rest tonight."

"Good idea, I'll just hop into my luxury queen bed." Janus deadpanned. "Oh wait, I have no place to sleep."

"Right!" Patton giggled sheepishly. "Sorry. Um—do you want to come stay at my house? Just for the night?"

Virgil made a strangled noise which Patton ignored.

"Your house," Janus repeated, eyebrows high in the air.

"Yeah!" Patton exclaimed. "It's right over that way! You can sleep there for tonight and we can leave tomorrow!"

"Are you—" Virgil seemed to be carefully keeping his voice level. "Are you sure about this, Patton? Will the moms like it?"

"I don't know," Patton said, wincing. "I kind of forgot about them."

Patton's moms definitely wouldn't like it, would they? They didn't like dragons and they'd think Patton was in danger or something. Plus they'd ask why Janus was here, so Patton would have to tell them he was leaving, and they would probably stop him. He'd been planning on sneaking out the back door in the morning and leaving a note. Sneaky and underhanded? Yes. But it was for a good cause. Mostly.

"We'll just, um." Patton grinned, trying to hide his nervousness. "Maybe-kinda-sorta sneak Janus into the house so they don't see him?"

"I thought you couldn't lie," Janus said.

"I can't!" Patton agreed. "But, like, if they haven't technically asked me whether I'm bringing a dragon into my room, then I'm not technically lying by not telling them! Right?"

Janus tilted his head. "You are aware of how incredibly morally gray that sounds, right?"

Patton flushed and stared at his feet.

"Don't worry," Janus said, smirking, "I approve."

"Somehow," Patton said, "that doesn't make me feel better."

"Are we doing this?" Virgil asked. "Or can he sleep in a garden or something?"

"No!" Patton folded his arms. "He's my friend now—"

"I am not your friend."

"He's my friend even though he won't admit it, which means he needs a place to stay!" Patton looked Janus over. "His clothes are all torn up and his bandages probably need to be changed soon. Plus I bet he's hungry!"

Janus hissed between his teeth, eyes glinting. "Is this a trap?"

"Nope!"

Janus sighed, rubbing at his temple. "Fine. We will go to your house."

"Yay!" Patton turned to Virgil, activating the Puppy Dog Eyes and clasping his hands. "Will you help us, kiddo? Pwease?"

Virgil gave a long sigh. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but let's sneak a dragon into our house."

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

#leave no trace

[purplesurveys]

1052

surveys by lets-make-surveys

1 - Who was the last person to knock on your door? Were they there to see you? Nina usually knocks briefly in the evening to let me know it’s time for dinner. Other than my ex in the past, I don’t let anyone stay in my room for long. Knocking and peeking into my room is enough.

2 - Have you left the house yet today? If not, do you have plans to leave the house later on? No, as it’s only 10 in the morning and I don’t really have a reason to be out somewhere this early. I might go out to buy presents for more relatives, but that’s only if I feel productive enough today. We’ll see.

3 - What’s your favourite brand of chocolate? What type of chocolate bar from that brand is your favourite? The older I get the more I feel like gagging from the idea of chocolate bars lol; they’re all just so sweet. These days my top three would be Hershey’s cookies and cream bar, Whittaker’s chocolate peanut butter bar, and Twix bars. I also love Reese’s, but they aren’t bars.

4 - Have you ever met someone in person who you first met on the internet? Do you have plans to do that anytime soon? Yes, I’ve done this before and I’ve recounted the stories on here multiple times. As for the second question, yeah I technically do? I’ve only met my workmates online so far, so I’m constantly looking forward to the opportunity to finally meet them all in real life.

5 - What was the last thing you used a blender for? I’ve never used a blender. We don’t even own a blender.

6 - Have you ever got into an argument with a stranger on social media? Do you remember what it was about? Yeah, but I don’t even remember what it was about anymore...I do know it was this year, and the person deleted the comment that I replied to not long after.

7 - When was the last time you cracked your joints? Is that something you do often? Now that you reminded me, I just did. I do it at least once a day, whenever my fingers start to feel tight and tense.

8 - What time is it right now? If you weren’t doing a survey, what else would you be doing right now? It is 1:52 PM. I’d be heading to the mall to buy more presents, but I don’t feel like getting out of bed yet. I’d also do embroidery, but my online orders are taking a while to arrive :( My online shopping app says I'll be getting them by Jan 3rd, but the shipping tracker says it’s already being shipped from China to here so I’m looking forward to receiving it this week. I hope that’s the case; otherwise it’ll miss the point of being my hobby this Christmas break.

9 - If you had ten minutes to run around an empty supermarket and fill your trolley for free, what’s the first aisle you’d go for? The fancy meat/fish section. Then I’d go to the condiments/spice section, then frozen food, then chips.

10 - Aside from Tumblr, what websites do you visit the most and why? YouTube, because I find videos a soothing distraction; Twitter to keep me updated on local and international news; Reddit for quirky posts; and Wikipedia so I can continue learning trivia I’ll never have to use but want to gain anyway.

11 - Has COVID had any impact on your Christmas plans this year? What’s going to change or be different to normal? My dad is home for Christmas this year, which is one silver lining from Covid. But my relatives living abroad who usually fly back to the Philippines for the holidays obviously won’t be able to this year, so we’re not gonna have a packed family reunion like we normally do. Everything else is the same, but I think the biggest thing about this whole thing is that I can barely feel Christmas coming this year. I think it’s going to feel like such a plain Friday this week; and that makes me a little sad.

12 - What’s your favourite flavour of cake? Are you any good at making that kind of cake? My favorite flavor is chocolate, but my favorite kind of cake (which I enjoy a lot more than general chocolate cake) is cheesecake. I cannot make either, nor can I bake at all.

13 - Do you prefer sweet or sour candy? Sweet. I hate any sour foods with a passion lol especially sour candy; it is my absolute least favorite taste. I don’t find anything enjoyable or fulfilling about it.

14 - What colour is your favourite fruit? Is this a fruit you eat often? Already made my feelings for fruit clear on this blog, haha.

15 - Is your favourite restaurant an independent place or a chain? What is it that you love about it so much? It’s a chain, like most popular restaurants here. Independent places are a little hard to come by, to be honest. They make the best katsu I’ve ever had; and I also like that despite being a chain restaurant, the ambience is still quite sophisticated and date-friendly so I always feel like I’m treating myself whenever I eat there.

16 - Are you genuinely a fan of Starbucks or do you think it’s all hype? I personally enjoy everything about Starbucks. I like their coffees, their Frappes, the ambience in their coffee shops, their playlists, and their line-up of mugs and tumblers. I’ve always felt right at home in their shops and out of all the cafés I’ve been to, it’s always their baristas that have been the nicest.

17 - Do you own a Christmas jumper? What design/pattern does it have on it? No, I don’t.

18 - What’s your favourite fit/style of jeans? I was obsessed with mom jeans throughout 2020.

19 - What was the last non-essential item you spent money on? Overpriced coffee and a sandwich.

20 - Are you currently under any COVID-related restrictions where you live? Are people generally following the rules? Public places are super strict with requiring everyone to wear a face shield and face mask; before entering any establishment, people’s temperatures are taken and everyone’s also required to take a contact tracing form. Anyone under the age of 21 still isn’t allowed to go out for the most part, though I think there are some exceptions now because I see kids younger than me already going on out-of-town trips again. Some places that are big on tourism like Sagada, Batanes, and Baguio are still closed off from the public; those that have since reopened, like Boracay, follow strict protocol and everyone going there is required to undergo a swab test. Everyday Filipinos follow the rules; it’s the politicians and police force who don’t, which feels disgusting to say.

21 - What did you last leave the room you’re in to do? A package arrived for me so I had to pay for it. It was the phone case I ordered for my cousin.

22 - Have you ever read any self-help books? Did you find them useful? No. I don’t really believe in that genre, so I never felt pulled to buy a book.

23 - What’s your favourite programme on the Food Network (if you watch it)? If you don’t get that channel, what’s your favourite food/cookery show in general? All things Gordon Ramsay, man. MasterChef, Hell’s Kitchen, and Kitchen Nightmares are all *chef’s kiss* The Great British Bake Off is also great and something I like watching when I want to wind down :)

24 - Do you still watch cartoons? From time to time.

25 - Who do you know with the most number of siblings? Would you ever want to live in a huge family? My grandpa was one of nine siblings, if I’m not mistaken. I’m not sure if I know a bigger set than that. Unless my family was filthy rich, I would not want to have such a big immediate family.

26 - Are you a fan of garlic bread? Sure. I tend to ask for others’ too, heh.

27 - Do you own any personalised clothing? What’s the reason for getting it? No, not a fan. Two years ago we had a huge family reunion on my dad’s side and we had to wear these cheesy shirts that said “[Last Name] Reunion” with some cheesy motto at the bottom. My parents hated it, which made me feel better about my own feelings about the shirt lol.

28 - Is anyone else in the same room as you right now? What is that person up to? No, it’s just me here.

29 - What colours are you wearing right now? Does your wardrobe contain a lot of those colours? White, maroon, and scarlet. I have a lot of white and maroon; not so much of scarlet as I find the color too bold.

30 - Do you like adding condiments to your food? If so, what are some of your favourites? Yes. My food always needs to have soup, condiments, or sauces; otherwise I tend to feel the dish is too dry. I like mayonnaise, banana ketchup, hot sauce, and lechon sauce.

--

1 - What have you been up to so far today? Is that a typical thing for you to do on this particular day of the week? I’ve taken a couple of surveys and started binge-watching segments of my newest Korean reality show discovery, 2 Days 1 Night. The breakout actor from Start-Up and the newest love of my life HAHAHA is a cast member on the current season of 2D1N so I’ve been all over the show today. It’s hilarious; I can hardly believe I’m only discovering the show this late.

2 - Did you get a decent night’s sleep last night? How many hour’s sleep do you consider a decent amount? It was around five hours, which isn’t a lot to me. I usually sleep 7-9 hours these days, but I might wreck my body clock during the holiday break because I want to keep being awake and do the things I haven’t been able to do because of work.

3 - What is one silly thing that really gets on your nerves? Seeing pickles in a burger.

4 - Who was the last person you saw who wasn’t family? What did you guys end up doing together? The friendly Starbucks barista from yesterday; her name was Princess. We didn’t do anything lol, she just took my order and was super friendly about it, and she also gave me the Starbucks planner that I chose to redeem.

5 - Do you prefer hot or cold drinks overall? Cold. I avoid hot drinks now haha. Ever since I had that incident with the takoyaki, I’ve been too scared to let any hot food or drink touch my mouth.

6 - Do you own a decent set of waterproofs? If so, what do you use them for the most? If not, do you think that would be something you’d find useful? I don’t know what this is referring to, and I’m too lazy to Google right now. I’ve only ever known this word as an adjective, whoops.

7 - Do you have any plans for the rest of the day? Take more surveys, and maybe have another cup of coffee. I’ll also have to get started on a daily report I submit for work every weekday morning so that my load will be lighter tomorrow. Our office is technically on shutdown until January 4th, but some clients require a daily report every day and I’ll have to shoulder that with another co-associate. It sucks, but at least it’s the only thing I’ll have to do for the next two weeks.

8 - How often do you get your hair cut? When hairdressers were closed due to COVID, did you try cutting it yourself at home? I only go to the salon once a year, and I already did it this 2020 when I chopped off my hair and got bangs. Yeah, whenever my bangs start to get too long I either ask my mom to trim them or I do so myself.

9 - What did you wear the last time you left the house? Is that different to what you’re wearing at the moment? I walked Cooper half an hour ago and I just stayed in the same clothes I’ve been in all day, which was a tank top underneath an oversized hoodie and a pair of shorts.

10 - Would you rather have a relaxing beach holiday or a more active holiday in the mountains? The beach would be perfect right now, but I think my answer changes every time this is asked and I’m pretty sure I picked mountains the last time HAHAHA. I just realized being in the mountains would give me the same cooped-up feeling I’ve been having from staying at home for such a long time, and it might not be the best and healthiest trip for me...the beach definitely sounds more freeing and therapeutic.

11 - Do you know how to tie a tie? Nah, never learned. I’ve never been good at tying anything up, period.

12 - How old were you when you first had a sleepover at someone’s house? Did you miss home? I was 15 or 16; I’m not entirely sure anymore. Not at all, I was so excited to have been allowed to go to my first sleepover.

13 - How often do you spend time with your extended family? Under normal circumstances, we’d visit my grandma and cousins on my mom’s side once every few months or so. It was pretty regular since they’re just a stone’s throw away. But obviously we’ve since had to drastically cut our get-togethers back, and I’ve only seen them around three times since the beginning of the year. My dad’s family lives pretty far south, so I only get to see them once or twice a year even in pre-Covid days; not much of a difference there.

14 - When you get up in the morning, do you have a set routine? No. I just wake up feeling dread and have no choice but to wait for the weight in my chest to subside.

15 - Do you remember the last time you cried? Were they sad or happy tears? Yesterday in my car, in the mall parking lot. Sad tears.

16 - What do you have planned once you finish this survey? Look for another one. I misseddddd taking surveys and I plan on taking a crap ton of them this Christmas break. I may also be called for dinner, so there’s that.

17 - What was the last thing you cooked? Did you cook from scratch or just heat something up? I dunno if it counts as cooking, but I just made the DIY ramen kit that I received as a Christmas gift from the branch I was originally an intern at. Everything was already prepared in the kit and all I needed to do was boil water for the noodles and prepare the broth. Turned out surprisingly good.

18 - Are you a fan of hot chocolate? Do you like it plain or do you prefer to add things like whipped cream or marshmallows? I love hot chocolate and will order it sometimes, but given my aforementioned fear of hot beverages I always wait for it to considerably cool down hahaha. I like my hot chocolate plain.

19 - What caused your last injury? Cooper’s nails.

20 - How many tattoos and piercings do you have? Do any of them have an interesting story behind them? Just a piercing on each of my earlobes. No interesting stories...yet.

21 - What kind of flowers do you like the best? When was the last time someone bought those for you? I like peonies, though I’m not sure if my ex ever gave me a bouquet that included those.

22 - What’s the smallest thing you’ve ended a relationship over? I’ve only been with one person and I dated her twice, but I was never the one who ended the relationship either time so can’t really answer this.

23 - Would you rather order a starter (appetiser) or a dessert? Or would you be able to manage a full three courses? Three-course meal, pls. I’ve only experienced it once, when my parents treated me to dinner during my cruise gift for my 18th birthday; it was great and every dish was made amazingly well.

24 - How do you get most of your news, if you pay attention to it at all? I catch the evening news every weeknight because we keep the telvision turned on during dinner. I also get to read articles on social media.

25 - Have you or a member of your family been diagnosed with COVID yet? None that I know of, thankfully. It’s always been someone that a relative knows, but so far none of us have gotten it.

26 - Are you a vegetarian? If so, what persuaded you to stop eating meat? If not, is it something you’d ever consider? No. I have been considering it for years, but I truthfully don’t know if I could give up meat.

27 - Do you prefer rice or pasta? Rice.

28 - Is anything you’re wearing a gift? Who bought it for you? No.

29 - What’s the dominant colour in the room you’re in at the moment? I guess white, since my walls are white and that’s the first thing you see when entering my room.

30 - Did you do laundry yet today? If not, do you need to do any before you go to bed? Not my chore to do, but it was already done a few days ago.

#survey #surveys #multiple surveysss

[marziyoudumbass]

dates with the Allies

pairings: america x reader, england x reader, france x reader, russia x reader, canada x reader

synopsis: what kind of date would the Allies take you on? (also I didn’t do china, but did do canada. I’m sorry, I can’t write him)

============

alfred f. jones

100% would take you on a classic movie date

It’s probably a horror film too

Picks you up and drives you to the theaters

Tickets were already aquired so you just walk straight to get some snacks

Loads up on popcorn, candy, chocolate, ect

Are you looking at xyz snack for too long? He buys two

Gets slushies (or soda if you want, or water)

You’re scared for his bank account (movie theater food is expensive)

It ends up being a bit hard to carry but you both manage

You go to the back of the theater

You share a mega huge container of popcorn

You brush hands like in a cliche movie

Half the popcorn is gone before the movie even starts

He starts off all confident 

“Its not gonna be that scary.”

“If you get scared I’ll protect you”

His brave acts crumbles at the first jumpscare

Lowkey clinging to you

If you’re scared, though, he’ll toughen up on the outside

He’s still a baby though

He’ll protect you as much as he can

Stress eater? Stress eater.

By the time the movie ends he’s calmed a little

Has a death grip on your hand (but not too hard bc he doesn’t wanna hurt you uwu)

Drops you off and probably kisses you on the porch

Overall 10/10 would recomend

arthur kirkland

Hmmmmm

I’m thinking he’d do a nice romantic dinner date

He’d be all gentlemanly

Picks you up at 7

“You look amazing, love.”

He’ll open the car door for you and other little things like that

The restaurant is really fancy but not super snobby

There’s a valet and everything

You end up having a nice table

Its kind of secluded and overlooking the rest of the restaurant

It’s a classic candle-lit dinner

You order and do all that stuff

While you wait for your food you talk

He’s as charming as ever

Compliments compliments compliments

It’s a fairly intellectual conversation

But you also joke around together

Your food comes and you eat

The main draw of this type of date for him is being able to talk to you

He gives you a pretty necklace

It goes by rather quickly :((

He’ll take you to his house afterwards

You continue your date there

OVerall 9/10, nice conversation and atmosphere, not super eventful

francis bonneyfoy

Okokokokok

You’d expect him to also do a cliche dinner date, BUT 

I think he’d take you on a longer date then the rest would

It might not even be considered a date with how extra he is

You’re 100% going to France for this one

I think he’d take you to Disneyland in Paris

Maybe you’d drive, maybe you’d fly on a private jet, same dif

You’d go for Parc Disneyland first

You go to Phantom mannor, tour Sleeping Beauty Castle, go on Big Thunder Mountain, and even Space Mountain.

It’s a fun packed day!

You skip out on the food in Parc Disneyland

“It is nowhere near what you deserve, mon cher!”

(The food isn’t even good anyways)

After the park closes he takes you on a sweet picnic

Has a few candles but most of the light is from the moon

Probably bought you jewelry beforehand and presents it during this time

Loads of delicious, homemade-gourmet French cusine

Wine is a given

He might feed you

He compliments you but in the most extra ways

Makes you blush

Overall 100000/10 take me to Disneyland Paris please

ivan braginsky (baby)

He’s so sweet with his date

Like France, it would be more of a day out--just not as extravagant

It starts off as a simple walk through town

I like the idea of it snowing lightly

It's early mornimg

You’re both wearing coats and gloves, he’s holding your hand

You can’t really see his face, from your angle his scarf covers it

He’ll take you into little shops, if you want something, he’ll buy it for you

Would totally take you into a little clothing shop and buy you your own scarf

It’s probably a bit too big, but it’s the thought that counts

I think you’d mostly be in silence, just enjoying each other’s company

Small talk does occur, but only once in a while

You also window shop a bit, just looking through the big glass panes to see if anything interests you

He’s super considerate

“Are you having fun?”

“Would you like to go inside, любимый?”

“Are you cold, подсолнух?”

He just wants you to be happy

You then go to a small coffee shop

You sit in a corner and have coffe/hot chocolate/tea

I think he's not really a normal coffee kind of guy? Like, if he drinks coffee it's rarely coffe, cream, and sugar

He likes more lattes and macchiatos but doesn't mind a good cup of coffee

He's a huge softie for you

Stares at you across the table but lovingly

Like, he adores you

He can't believe you're his, his little sunflower

Overall 11/10 vv good and sweet

matthew williams

I think it is possible he does something like Russia, an early morning cafe date, but not at a cafe

He takes you to a cute little breakfast place

It has a very welcoming feel from the outside, like you just want to go in as soon as you see it

It's probably cold outside, so when you walk in, the warmth hits you like a freight train

To the far end of the dining area, there's a little fireplace, it's not real but still radiates immense heat

I think he'd take Kumajirou with you unless he wants it to be special or you don't like Kuma you monster

A nice big, cozy booth? Yes, only the best for you bb 

Matthew, in contrast to Russia, likes a good, strong cup of coffe. A nice, simple one; two sugars, cream if he feels like it.

Honestly all these boys spoil you, and Mattie does it with pancakes

The place has some of the best pancakes in Canada, second only to Matthew's own

Everything you want, he'll pay for it

He orders the 'Unlimited Pancake' meal for himself (with unlimited syrup and butter)

He might be sweet but he's not the pancake eating champion for nothing

He thinks you're so amazing

So sweet, kind, mindful, you can see him

Even if that's not how you describe yourself, he makes you out to be an angel

The conversation is never lacking

He's an incredible listener

Baby is so whipped, everyone can see it by the way he hangs onto every syllable that comes out of your mouth

Even though he doesn't talk much, he does ask questions

 "How have you been?"

 "Are the pancakes good?"

"Do you need more syrup?"

When you're finished, he'll pull some strings to get dessert from the dinner menu

He lets you get what you want, but not too much because he cares about your health uwu

You get home and riddle

Overall 9.9/10, such a sweet date but I like waffles more than pancakes (don't tell him I said that)

[way-veee]

yān yǔ

rating: m

genre: romance, fluff, comedy, wayv being absolute crackheads

word count: 1.5k +

pairing: reader x wayv

pt. 1

“a week!”

“actually, its two, they’ll be here for one and then you’ll go to china for one.”

“i cant! i have a coverage report due wednesday, not to mention school work. there’s no way i can be following idols around for one-”

“two.”

“two weeks!”

“look y/n, you’re our youngest and best reporter. this could be our breakthrough to younger audiences. please do this for the company.”

you feel guilt pile in your stomach. you knew that you had to do this for them. a news agency having coverage like this could be huge.

“all hotel and travel expenses are covered by us and SM.”

you hold your breath.

“fine, okay, i’ll do it.”

you shake your head as your manager jumps in the air. you cant believe you were going to do something as crazy as this. god you hated celebrities, and now you’re gonna live like one.

“y/n-”

you look up sharply at your manager who is nervously introducing you to wayv’s manager. you spaced out after they started talking about the logistics of your reporting, because you really didnt care.

“yes, its great to meet you sir,”

you bow quickly and give your manager a slight nod as you walk to the car that will take you to wayv. she holds two thumbs up in the air in support. she looks excited but you can tell she’s nervous, you always find a way too mess things up. and she knows that more than most people.

“ so miss, i have your itinerary for our time in osaka, the briefing for bejiing will happen shortly after arrival.”

the uptight manager says more logistical boring things, and you of course tune him out, quickly scanning through the day plan. you weren't looking forward to most of it, even meeting the boys isn’t something you look forward too. you know how snobby celebrities can be, especially to news reporters.

the car pulls up to the big industrial quarters twenty minutes later. you leisurely exit the van into the sunny osaka afternoon, in no rush to meet the idols you had to follow for weeks. you walk into the cool building as a flurry of security checks and beeps go off, scanning everyone. you shake another managers hand as he guides you to the briefing room where the boys are in a meeting.

“i’m so happy for this opportunity. i think the public will really enjoy a look at the boys everyday lives through the eyes of a regular person.”

you’re not sure if he meant that as a backhanded comment, so you try to ignore it.

“yes, i’m also glad that as a reporter, i have such an easy assignment. i expect i wont have much to write about so i look forward to resting.”

he opens up his mouth in shock as you smirk, continuing to walk down the hall. you never were good at keeping quiet.

a door swings open in front of you and you’re now looking into a room full of business men mulling over graphs and data. you were severely under dressed wearing a loose sweater with your hair tied back. but you wouldn’t let that stop you.

“sorry to interrupt,” the same man from the car ride says. “but the reporter for the day in the life project is here.”

he slowly gestures to you as you glide into the room shaking everyone's hands, charming them with a smile as fake as ever.

“i’m so happy to be here, being able to work with such people will be quite and experience.”

you glance over at the boys after you finish reciting the speech you had been practicing in the car. the seven of them sit eerily straight, dressed in suits restricting movement up to their necks. their faces are caked in makeup so expertly and effectively you couldn’t even see their true expressions.

you shudder at the thought of these “boys”. the room stays silent, so you take this as your cue to leave.

you could hear them all laugh after you left and your face reddens at the thought of those men making fun of you.

this was going to be a long two weeks.

“your quarters are going to be right near the boys so you can have quick access to them for any early morning or late night installments. keep in mind that the boys are very busy and need lots of sleep and limited distractions to perform well on the stage.”

you look over at the uptight man that is leading you across the street to your living arrangement. this man probably made choices for wayv that the boys had no say in.

it disgusted you.

but you decided to make today a day where you didnt yell at people, or at least certain people.

the second you got into the room you take a warm shower and sit on the semi hard mattress in your well worn pajamas. you didnt have the energy so late at night to do homework so you watch tv and read one of the books you brought. then you hear a crash outside that startles you.

you didnt know how long you’ve been in here but it must’ve been over two hours. you quietly creep to your door and open it, only to see a yoga ball fly past your door and crash into the plaster wall. then you hear heinous screams and footsteps.

you fling open your door in anger, only to notice wayv staring back at you, mid whatever they were doing.

they looked so different from before that you barely even recognized them. barefaced, with messy hair and baggy pajamas. their body language is so much more relaxed and natural. they look so happy and normal it startles you.

“oh. we’re sorry” kun says just as surprised as you. “we didn’t know anyone else was staying here.”

you stare at them open mouthed. “were you guys just playing… with yoga balls?”

kun’s eyes shift over to a messy utility room filled with gym equipment.

“we call it zhuā zhù, sǐ, “ henderey says excitedly getting up off the ground from where yangyang had pinned him, “it means.”

“catch or die?”

you respond, confused on why seven grown men would throw yoga balls around while tackling each other to the ground.

they’re confused on why you look so upset and mad.

“you know chinese?”

henderey responds even more shocked then before. you shake your head slowly.

it stays silent for a while until kun ushers to their quarters and says,

“well we should get going, we have a busy schedule tomorrow-”

“but we have to do the finals still!” you hear yangyang whisper into the leaders ear.

lucas then proceeds to punch yangyang in the lower back. that shuts him up really fast.

“umm yes sure, i’ll see you guys tomorrow then,” you say before closing your door to one of the weirdest displays you’ve seen so far.

how could the boys switch from being so manufactured to so normal? it scared you and made you mad. you have no idea how you’re gonna write a report on wayv without making SM look bad.

you didnt worry about it for long though, because a well deserved sleep washes over you. you would’t think about that until far into tomorrow.

the boys decided not to sleep just yet, instead they stayed up discussing the weird female reporter that would be following them around for two weeks.

“why do you think she was so mad at us?” yangyang questions.

“mad? that was just disgust.” xiaojun quips back.

“maybe she was just overwhelmed,”

kun offers, though the boys don’t believe that and they keep bickering about you.

“how is she a reporter? she looks like she hasn’t even graduated yet!”

“yangyang you haven’t either!”

winwin says while punching yangyang in the shoulder. yangyang growls in response and tries to grab winwin until kun pulls them apart.

“she might be  acting weird because we’re famous,” ten says, easily making his conspiracy seem like the truth.

“she could be in love with us, or a super fan. maybe she’s never been around famous people before!”

they talk for a while longer, discussing the anomaly that is you. but soon they also fall asleep too, tired from today’s advertising meeting.

neither you nor the boys knew how tomorrow would play out, and how different the both of you will seem.

pt 2 

#wayv #wayv smut #wayv kun #wayv lucas #wayv winwin #wayv xiaojun #wayv ten #wayv yangyang #wayv hendery #wayv x reader