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anonniemousefics · 3 years

Text

All Kinds Of New Friends

Fandom: Six of Crows | Kaz + Inej (ft. all the other Crows)

Word Count: 4,700

Rating: Teen and Up

TW: contains mentions of sexual assault

Cross-posted to AO3

Synopsis: The gang has a run in with a couple of unscrupulous characters from Inej's past, and Kaz says a few things in the middle of a rage he wasn't supposed to say yet.

Author’s Note: This fic is dedicated to AO3 user puppy cat, who was such a supportive, lovely fan from the very first chapter of "My Dearest Inej" all the way to the end. They requested a fic based around a particular idea involving the gang at a restaurant and someone harassing Inej and Kaz losing his shit in a very specific way (being intentionally vague here to avoid too many spoilers lol). If you like this au, there's more of it in my recent fic "Samples". :)

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Nothing brought Kaz Brekker life quite like being paid to argue. And he was good at it, which was why he could charge these student athletes afraid of losing their scholarships two hundred bucks an essay without even flinching. If a more delightful way to make money existed, he had not found it yet.

He was spending his Saturday the way he usually spent Saturdays: rounding out a conclusion to a paper arguing for the death penalty, for a pre-law class he’d never take and a trust-fund upperclassman he’d hopefully never meet. In a few hours, he could drop the doc in a secure server and wait for the Venmo alert that he’d been paid. Nothing was sweeter.

Well. One thing was sweeter.

Inej was in the beat-up old recliner beside him in his and Jesper’s little living room of their third-floor off-campus apartment. This was the best way to spend a Saturday. She was sitting cross-legged and practically drowning in oversized sweats, her raven-black hair piled on top of her head while she hunched over her MacBook. And she was wearing those thick-rimmed, blue-blocker glasses Matthias Helvar had convinced her she needed (which, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that he was being paid to promote them on his stupid Instagram, that douchebag). Kaz had cringed both internally and externally when she’d told him she’d bought a pair, but now he was seeing the merit, because, dear God, was she adorable in glasses. They were awakening strange and powerful urges every time he glanced over at her. If she held them in between her teeth while undoing her hair, he was going to have to leave the room.

Because the terrible reality was that Inej had had a rough go of it her freshman year at Ketterdam University. And even though they were sort of together now (Kaz was pretty sure they were?), the last thing Inej needed right now was to be over-sexualized – for anything. Including those really fucking cute glasses.

“I’m starving,” Jesper declared from his prone position on the floor. He had been propped up on a bunch of faded pillows between them, engrossed in shooting undead things on their Xbox. His boyfriend Wylan had spent most of the afternoon napping against his shoulder, but was now blinking awake like a blue-eyed baby owl at Jesper’s sudden announcement.

“I could eat,” Wylan yawned with a lazy stretch.

“Inej? You?” Jesper reached up to tug on Inej’s sock.

“Hm?” Inej looked up from her laptop like she was emerging from a cave while she gnawed on one of the strings of her sweatshirt. It had been like this since The Incident – Jesper and Nina often took turns making sure she would eat. (Kaz had it covered, but that was all right. The back-up couldn’t hurt.)

“Food? Are you hungry?” Jesper repeated, the unspoken question floating in the air: Have you eaten today?

Inej blinked a few times as she thought, her dark eyes flitting back and forth between Jesper and her laptop screen. Kaz knew this internal war well – the age-old taking care of one’s needs versus the siren-song of wreaking endless revenge.

Inej had come to Ketterdam University on a gymnastics scholarship, but that had fallen by the wayside – ever since The Incident. The night everything changed.

Kaz didn’t know Inej Ghafa all that well before it happened – had taken a few classes with her, studied for an exam with her once. She’d been eternally sunshiney, the kind of girl he knew wouldn’t waste her time on dark things like him.

But then she’d started missing classes.

And then showing up to class visibly drowning beneath the weight of sleeplessness and oversized clothes.

And he didn’t really know her but it had bothered him all the same. It was like watching a star collapsing in on itself.

And that’s when the story of The Incident hit the news cycle. From the moment he read the first headline, Kaz couldn’t stop scrolling, growing sicker and sicker in the pit of his stomach.

She’d gone to a party at a frat house with a new friend. (Kaz had even been there before, maybe even the night it happened. Frat parties were veritable breeding grounds for potential clients – full of rich, connected kids too drunk or stoned to be bothered by classwork and crooked enough to pay someone else to do it.) It was suspected that someone had slipped something in her drink, and it was known that the friend who’d brought her there had been entirely useless. Inej had woken up the next morning, half-naked on the lawn, crude drawings in Sharpie all over her, and no knowledge of what had transpired that had left her there.

It should have ended there – that was bad enough. But then the frat boys had started posting the videos of what had happened that night. How she had been used. How she had been touched.

If Inej’s parents were going to have their way, someone was going to jail. If Kaz was going to have his way, someone was going to suffer all the way there.

After he’d learned the news, he’d found her the next day before class started, where she was at the back of the room, hunched over her desk with her hood up. She’d shot daggers at him with her eyes when he approached. He’d liked that.

“I’d like to help you ruin them,” he’d told her. Inej’s glare didn’t relent as she sized up him – his black attire, the leather gloves that clenched his gleaming cane. He usually made a point of looking like the sort of person who ruined things. Nobody bullied a boy with a cane if it looked like that same boy could take your head off with said cane.

Inej seemed to agree that he looked like he could fit the bill. And they began to plot – how to expose her abusers, how to alert every girl they ever came into contact with, how to ruin every single party they would ever throw.

And somewhere along the way, it had turned into…something. Kaz wasn’t sure what to call it. But he couldn’t call it nothing – not when Inej regularly stayed the night in their apartment and did soft things like run her hand over his chest if she liked the jacket he was wearing or blush and smile if she caught him looking at her. He’d even really gone out on a limb one night and told her he liked her, and she’d said it back. He wasn’t sure where that left them at this point. Somewhere, he guessed, with something.

“I’ll eat,” Inej was agreeing, albeit with a bit of reluctance to leave her laptop. She was elbows-deep in a catfishing scheme Kaz had concocted for their latest victim.

“Nina wants us to meet up with her and Matthias at The Sweet Shop,” Wylan said, who was catching up on the texts he’d missed while napping on Jesper.

“I swear, Nina could lure a polar bear into the jungle,” Jesper sighed next to him, because it was a little miraculous to think Matthias Helvar, fitspo Instagram model and purveyor of all things organic and natural, had somehow been corralled into a bakery cafe. Kaz was surprised that Matthias even looked at carbs, let alone consumed them.

And, even though he was pressed for time on the illicit essay he was writing, Kaz needed food, too. He and Inej both could use the time away from their questionable dealings online.

The Sweet Shop was within walking distance, but it had begun to rain, cold and foggy, over Ketterdam. So, the four of them piled into Kaz’s beat up black Chevy and rolled into town behind the rhythmic beating of the windshield wipers.

“Over here!” Nina waved to them, beaded bracelets rattling in a stack on her wrist, from the far corner as the bakery’s front door swung closed behind them, tripping a jingling brass bell pinned to the doorframe.

The Sweet Shop was a popular spot for the more bookish crowds to crash on the weekends, load up on starchy foods and coffee while rattling out papers on their laptops or flirting under the guise of study groups. Kaz wouldn’t go so far as to call them his type of people, but he was certainly more at home here than the drunken soirees where he spent his evenings fleecing the debauched children of alumni. Here, there were people crowded over old tables with their books, and well-worn leather sofas and faded overstuffed chairs in the corner lined with secondhand books and used board games that were almost always missing pieces. The air smelled like espresso and cupcakes and old pages, and if Matthias Helvar was going to sulk about the lack of kale on the menu, Kaz might have to punch him in the face.

Matthias was already nursing a colorful smoothie while Nina sat next to him on the old leather sofa, her long, shapely legs draped over his and a stack of sugared waffles on the coffee table in front of her.

“Took you long enough!” Nina was scolding as the four of them weaved through tables to the corner of sofas and chairs. “Do none of you check your phones on weekends?”

“A technology fast is very cleansing for our auras,” Matthias countered, with a sage look – Matthias, the self-proclaimed Instagram influencer. Kaz rolled his eyes.

“That almost sounded like real words, Matthias – good job,” Jesper smirked, as he perched on the arm of the chair where Wylan had flopped down. Matthias opened his mouth to retort something, but --

“I was just distracted, sorry,” Inej intervened with an apology to Nina and a sheepish look. (She thankfully was no longer wearing her blue-blockers or it might have been too sweet even for a place called The Sweet Shop.)

“And I was just ignoring you,” Kaz said with a shrug. Inej gave him an exasperated whack in the arm as he sat next to her on an old loveseat, resting his cane against one side, and Nina let out a put-out huff.

“Wylan’s the only considerate one among you,” she complained.

“Yes, that is true,” Jesper agreed, and Wylan grinned widely with his chin propped up on his fist.

“We wanted you here because,” And Nina drew out the because like she had something grand to follow it, “Matthias landed a sweet sponsorship yesterday, and he wants to buy us all lunch!”

Kaz and Jesper groaned in unison, loud enough it couldn’t quite be drowned out by Inej and Wylan’s congratulations. Matthias got particularly insufferable after new sponsorships – there would be strings attached to this.

“That’s very nice of you, Matthias,” Inej said, pointedly, glaring at Kaz.

“It is very nice of you, Matthias, to offer to buy us all strawberry ice cream smoothies like yours,” Kaz said, with an evil glint in his eye as he nodded to the large pink cup in Matthias’ hand.

Matthias gave an uneasy laugh.

“There’s no ice cream in this,” he said, then paused when he noticed Nina’s tight-lipped, icy stare boring into Kaz’s skull. Then his brow cinched up and looked down at his cup. “There isn’t ice cream in this, right, babe?”

“It’s not going to kill you,” Nina replied with an eye roll.

“Babe! You know I can’t do dairy right now! Tomorrow’s Six-Pack Sunday!”

There was no point in trying to stop it: a laugh in the form of a long snort rolled out of Kaz while Jesper and Wylan dissolved into a fit of giggles. Now Kaz remembered -- this is why they kept Matthias around.

“You don’t understand,” Matthias was trying to say. “It can take a whole week to detox and lose the bloat.”

“I’ll finish it for you, you big baby,” said Nina, and snatched the smoothie away from a panicked Matthias.

“I should start running laps now,” he was fretting.

“Make some food runs for us – that’s a start,” Jesper supplied, looking helpful.

“Good call,” Matthias nodded, and hopped to his feet, nearly dumping Nina onto the floor in the process. “Orders? Orders?” He looked to each of them, ready to leap into action and start fighting off the bloat.

He’d gathered up their orders and made a beeline for the counter when Nina turned to Inej.

“You had me worried, you know.” Nina leaned out a little over her knees toward her roommate. “You were just distracted?”

Kaz glanced in Inej’s direction in time to see how she swallowed hard. She’d stuffed her hands deep in her hoodie pockets. Kaz knew the reaction all too well -- what it was like to withdraw and fight to make yourself untouchable, even to those who loved you.

“Just a lot of work lately,” Inej said. And Nina slid a suspicious glance toward Kaz, as if waiting for him to explain himself and what he was getting the two of them into now.

But it had always been Inej’s decision, how she wanted to handle her own revenge. Kaz was only providing tools. He hadn’t answered for her yet, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Nina sighed.

“I just don’t want to see anyone hurt anymore,” she said. The brass bell over the front door jingled again.

“That’s not--”

But Inej stopped short when she glanced toward the sound of the bell. She barely moved, but Kaz could sense her growing rigid next to him. And something about it made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

He followed her gaze to two boys who were now slouching toward the front counter. Kaz had seen them both before; he was pretty sure he’d written a biology research paper for the one with the pug-nose. They were both tall and conventionally good-looking – the sort you probably didn’t think twice about. Well-muscled, expensive haircuts, brand name sneakers.

Beside him, Inej had started breathing weird.

“Fuck.” Nina had noticed her staring, too, and suddenly all pairs of eyes in the corner were watching the newcomers at the front of The Sweet Shop with murder in their hearts.

Because these two bastards had been there the night of The Incident.

Kaz found himself wondering which one he could make cry first. Probably the bulkier one -- he looked soft and dumb around the edges. His mom probably still did his laundry on the weekends and called his professors when he didn’t get good grades. Kaz wanted to see him cry until snot dribbled down his sweaty face and –

“We should go,” Inej said, abruptly. She was looking pale and shaky, and her eyes darted around as if she needed to gather belongings, even though she’d brought none. Kaz had started to grip the head of his cane, tighter, tighter, tighter.

“Fuck no.” Nina was adamant and fiery, bless her. “We got here first – they can leave.” And then a little louder. “They should be in jail, frankly!”

“Nina!” Inej hissed, and her hand flew to curl against the side of her face when the boys looked their direction. Her eyes were wide and terrified when she looked over to Kaz.

“I want to go,” she told him, and that was all she needed to say. He pushed his weight onto his cane, hoisting himself to his feet.

“Don’t worry, girl – we got you,” Jesper was confirming, and, without even needing to consult each other, he and Wylan and Nina had Inej surrounded from sight on their walk to the door, Kaz at the front.

And it almost worked, too.

“Brekker!” Until one of the boys recognized him and gave him with a jovial grin. Shit. “Hey, it’s Brekker!” The stupid kid with the pug nose gave Kaz a hearty slap on his shoulder, and it took every ounce of restraint in him to not break the dude’s wrist.

“This kid got me an B+ on my bio term paper,” the kid was telling his bulky friend, and then with a shady-ass side smirk, he added: “Wasn’t totally the A I’d paid for, but that was still awesome, bro.”

“With your GPA, an A would have been too suspicious.” Why was Kaz even defending himself to this turd? He made to shove past, to head for the door.

But that kid was still gripping his shoulder. Like he wanted Kaz to remove it from its socket. Like maybe he was just asking for it. Kaz ground his teeth, trying to maintain his resolve. He wasn’t going to do this in front of Inej. He was going to be better than this for her.

“Bro,” the human pile of excrement still touching him was saying, “I’ve been meaning to text you. I have this world religions class this semester that is just killer, and I--”

“Your next words had better be how you’re doing your own damn work from now on.”

A simple “No” would have sufficed, Kaz realized, but his girl was in some kind of state because of this waste of carbon and his patience had never been plentiful to begin with.

Besides, the kid didn’t strike him as the type who understood simple “No”s. He was going to have to make it really fucking clear for this idiot.

Sure enough, the kid blinked hard, like he’d been slapped.

“I paid you, bro,” he said, dumbly.

“Oh, he did not just--” Nina started from the back of their bunch.

“Call me ‘bro’ one more time,” Kaz dared him, his eyes narrowing.

“What the hell, man?” said the thoroughly confused bulky friend.

“Kaz, just leave it,” Inej said, softly, and she slipped her fingers into the crook of Kaz’s elbow. “Let’s just go.”

A wave of recognition spread over the pug-nosed douchebag’s face at the sight of her. It was sickening, the surprised rise of his eyebrows, the smug, amused smirk on his lips. Kaz wanted to rip them right off his face.

“Oh, I see how it is,” the dick was saying. “You’re with this bitch--”

That’s when Kaz felt something snap. Oh, he was dead now.

“Kaz!” Inej shouted a warning, but it was already too late. With the cane between his two gloved hands, Kaz rammed his weight into this dead man walking. He threw the kid against the front door, the brass bell jingling as the shades on the window rattled in the scuffle.

“That’s my girlfriend, dipshit,” Kaz snarled.

Kaz was vaguely aware that there was a rising commotion around him, a crescendo of clashing panic and rage. His hand had found its way to the dude’s collar, throttling him; Nina was shouting something at Matthias somewhere behind him; chairs were scuffling about against the floor. But Kaz’s sole focus now was on making this heinous little fucker wet his pants.

“Kaz. The door.” Jesper’s clear-headed voice cut through the blinding wrath, and Kaz was somehow thinking clearly enough to gather his meaning and wrenched the kid away from the front door just long enough for Jesper to shove an arm through and open it.

And Kaz threw the pug-nose brat out into the rain ahead of them. The kid hit the pavement, hard, and scrambled back.

“Dude, you’ve got it all wrong if you think she’s the victim here,” the useless piece of flesh was sniveling. His nose was bleeding – pathetic, Kaz had barely hit him.

“I really think I don’t,” Kaz disagreed, thoughtfully.

“We could have you arrested!” the bulky child was screeching. Kaz turned just in time to see Matthias literally chuck the kid out after them, red-face and snarling. And Kaz had to hand it to him – even with his dairy intolerance, Matthias Helvar could toss frat kids with the best of them.

“Oh, please file a police report about this,” Kaz sneered at them. The wind and the rain were beating back his dark hair and flapping the collar of his black jacket, but he didn’t care. “I would absolutely love to know how you plan on explaining why you called my girlfriend a bitch.”

“Man, it is not my fault your girl can’t handle her liquor.”

CRACK. Kaz barely had time to blink, and Matthias had straight up decked the kid right in his jaw. Nina was rolling up her sleeves, ready to destroy the other one in the pelting rain.

“Hey!” The teenager in a green apron who’d been running the cash register was running out after them, holding a phone over her head. “I’m gonna call the cops if you don’t clear out!”

And when Kaz looked back at Inej, there were tears welling in her eyes even though her jaw was set firm. From the looks on the faces of the rest of his friends, they’d all noticed, too.

So, it fizzled out before it even really began.

The frat boys had slunk off in the rain, and the six of them regrouped and sauntered back to Kaz’s car in silence. Jesper, Nina, and Matthias piled into the back seat, while Inej and Wylan squeezed into the front. And then an uncomfortable stillness descended.

Inej had pulled her hood up again when Kaz turned the key in the ignition, her arms tight in her sleeves. Every once and awhile, she’d sniffle as quietly as she could as the car ride seemed to drag on – but Kaz knew. Everyone knew. That had been awful. And it still felt awful. Kaz’s head was starting to swirl, his wracked nerves still buzzing. He shouldn’t have done it. He hadn’t wanted to do it, not really. And she’d told him she wanted to leave – she’d said it clear as day. And he’d said…oh God, what had he said? What had he done?

Kaz’s stomach was starting to lurch. He’d said a lot of things. Way too many fucking things. Things they hadn’t discussed yet. Things he’d clearly just assumed. What had he done?

“We really should cleanse this negative energy.” Goddamn Matthias was the first one to break the pervasive silence, and he was choosing to break it with this nonsense. Kaz’s glare drifted to the rear view mirror. “I have some sound healing bowls back at my place that are--”

“I swear to God, Helvar,” Kaz snapped, “if you break out even one sound healing bowl, I will make you wear it like a helmet and then drop kick you into the sun.”

In the rear view mirror, Kaz could see Matthias’ nostrils flaring.

“You are such an unbalanced piece of shit sometimes, you know that--?” But Matthias stopped short because Inej had let out a surprising chuckle. Kaz slowly let himself glance her direction – so did everyone else.

She was smirking up at Kaz.

“I just think it’s thoughtful of you to make sure his head is protected before you launch him into space,” she shrugged. Wylan barked out a laugh.

“I just think they should kiss already,” Nina added, waggling an eyebrow at a brooding Matthias, and then Jesper started to laugh, too, which really was the most infectious of laughs. Even Kaz was smiling after a moment – just a little.

Though that faded entirely when they pulled up to Kaz and Jesper’s apartment and Inej asked to speak with him alone in the car first.

Shit, he thought. Shit. Here it is. He’d royally fucked it up now.

They waited in silence with the rain pouring over the car while the rest of their friends darted into the old Victorian home where Kaz and Jesper lived on the third floor. With each passing second, his stomach sunk lower into his guts. He wasn’t even sure he could form words in his brain, let alone with his mouth. He had no rational explanation for what had come over him back at The Sweet Shop, other than Here it is, Inej, I’m kind of a fucking disaster.

“So, that was…” Inej started, slowly. She was staring out the front window. Kaz felt like crumpling, and he hated it, hated how weak he felt. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know, I know…” he muttered. He didn’t really, but he just wanted this to be over. If she never wanted to see him again, he needed her to rip the bandaid off quick.

“So, I’m your girlfriend now?”

Kaz couldn’t decipher her tone, and he couldn’t even look at her. He was just going to stare at the steering wheel until this was over.

But then Inej said: “I just would like to have known before the guys my parents are having investigated, that’s all.”

Kaz looked to her then, lifting his dark eyebrows slightly. She’d let her hair down from its knot before they’d left for the café – she’d braided it loose over her shoulder like he liked. She was twirling the ends now, a tired smile on her pink lips.

“If you want,” he said with a soft shrug. It wasn’t at all like the heroic way he thought she deserved to be swept off her feet. But she was still smiling all the same. It made him feel braver.

Funny – how throwing his weight around against perverts was as easy as breathing, but looking at her like this tore him apart.

“If you’ll have me,” he offered, even softer now.

And Inej reached across the distance between them. Laced her fingers over his, atop his knee.

“I will have you, Kaz Brekker,” she said, tenderly. It took him aback a bit. Made his breath catch. Made his throat sting.

“If I shouldn’t have--” he started to say of the row back at The Sweet Shop. But Inej cut him off instantly, shaking her head. Squeezing his fingers.

“You absolutely should have,” she said, firmly. “And you should show me how, too.”

Kaz really raised his eyebrows at that. Inej smiled a little wider. His heart was lifting, lifting up and out of the certain doom he was sure it was about to face.

“Come on.” Inej tugged at his hand. “We’d better head up before Matthias starts culture appropriating all over your apartment.”

“You have to admit – he threw one hell of a punch, though,” Kaz pointed out, as he opened his door, and then wanted to punch himself for it. What the hell – was he defending Matthias Helvar now? This whole day was upside down.

Thankfully, there was a different kind of embarrassing going down in apartment number three when they finally made their way up. Kaz could hear it before he even made it to the top of the stairs – the loud, thumping bass, the voices shouting at the tops of their lungs.

Oh, their neighbors were going to love this. They were just making all kinds of new friends today.

When Inej opened the door, all four of their friends were dancing to Cardi B’s I Like It, blasting through Jesper’s bluetooth speaker. It took everything in Kaz to not physically recoil at the assault on his senses.

“Emergency dance party!” Jesper explained, yelling from behind Wylan.

“We’re clearing out the negative energy!” Nina shouted over the noise, her hands in the air. Matthias was jumping around behind her like an absolute madman. “But like in an acceptable way!”

“I think it’s working!” Wylan shouted at her in agreement, with Jesper’s hands on his hips.

They were all smiling.

And beside him, Inej burst out laughing – a wild, fluttery sound he’d heard only a few times before. It caught him right in the heart each time he had, and he knew he’d do anything to hear it as often as he could. He looked down at her and wondered, not for the first time, how she did it. How she managed to wring joy out of even the most dismal of circumstances.

It was something he needed more of – as long as she’d allow him to have it.

“Come on!” she was shouting to him as she took him by the hand. “You heard the man! Emergency dance party!”

And Kaz followed her in, shutting the door behind him.

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Tagging: @annejulianneh111, @loveyatopluto, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @whosanxiety, @raging-bisexual-alert,

#kanej #kanej fanfic #kanej fluff #six of crows #modern au #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #matthias helvar #nina zenik #college au #reader requested

136 notes · View notes

theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years

Note

This is a bit random but if characters from your fics lived in the Atla universe what element would they bend? Personally I think Lily would still have all her powers which would result in people thinking she's the avatar even though she's not, Obito would be a firebender, Minato an airbender and Lenin dearest would be a waterbender/bloodbender/maybe the avatar?. This is just the vibe I get tho-

Who needs bullet points when we can do a far too thought out AU that spans multiple fandoms/recursive works that will never happen?

More to the point, elements in AtLA is a mix of personality (we see earth benders as often brash and stubborn, water benders as adaptive, etc.) but also simply genetics. So, while I get that’s kind of the point of this post, it’s a bit weird to me to assign an element solely on personality.

So with that, let’s get started.

The Setting

Just to make things fun let’s make our AU take place sometime between Sozin’s first comet and Roku’s death and Aang awakening from that iceberg. The air benders have been wiped out, seemingly with no survivors, the South Pole has been invaded and the water benders from there captured and brought back to the Fire Nation, many of the colonies in the Earth Kingdom have been established, but the North Pole and great cities in the Earth Kingdom still stand.

The Avatar hasn’t been missing for one-hundred years yet, but he’s been missing for decades and people are coming around to the idea that maybe he’s really not going to show up.

Wizard Lenin/Tom Riddle

In this AU we’ll give Tom Riddle a slightly more traditional shitty background. Since we can’t really have a Tom in the AtLA universe he’s going to have the AtLA generic equivalent name that canon even jokes about: Lee. Lee is the mixed heritage son of a Fire Nation lord and a water bender from the south pole who grows up in a Fire Nation orphanage. And yes, this does happen in the absolute worst way you can possibly imagine, one of the imprisoned water benders from the south pole is raped.

As for Tom (Lee, you get the idea) arriving at an orphanage instead of being imprisoned/taken in as a son, well I’ll leave that to imagination but we can imagine a relatively compassionate guard, a dash of luck, or perhaps someone being an idiot and thinking “oh just dump it in an orphanage, there’s no way it will turn into a water bender too”

So, Tom grows up in an orphanage and looks just a bit... different from everyone else and is clearly not purely from the fire nation. I’m imagining much darker skin (and POC Tom Riddle is the weirdest thing in the world to contemplate, but here we are) and the pale blue eyes.

Tom grows up, dreaming probably of entering the military and winning himself glory, prestige, honor, and clawing out of this impoverished life he was born into. He undoubtedly desperately hopes he’s a fire bender, as not only is it cool but they have the best chance of making it in the world, and probably stays up late for many nights fruitlessly attempting to shoot fire out of his hands.

Unfortunately for Tom, sometime when he’s probably around eight or so, turns out he’s actually a water bender. Naturally, Tom has a huge meltdown and existential crisis as this means something’s terribly terribly wrong. More, all his hopes are ruined, as while a non-bender can make it a bender who is not a fire bender is a foreigner and traitor to the state.

Tom runs away and being a precocious child is able to make it on his own and about the country probably pulling off Toph-like scams. Eventually he runs into a much younger Hama who has just escaped prison and not yet started on her scary old lady adventures of imprisoning random villagers in caves. Hama goes, “of course, yes my child, I knew your mother” and gives Tom the whole horrible rape tale along with “I will teach you everything I know including my scary blood bending”. So Tom learns scary blood bending, probably stays with Hama a few years, and then realizes Hama isn’t going anywhere.

Hama’s content kidnapping random people into caves. At this point, angry and suddenly very pro-water bender Tom wants to murder the Fire Lord and his entire goddamn family and put himself in charge. Go big or go home, am I right?

So Tom leaves, Hama probably saying, “Come back any time, my beautiful murder child” and probably goes exploring the world in search of how the hell he’s going to bring down the Fire Lord. He also probably murders his entire father’s family and steals all his money, but that’s a different story. I imagine he goes to the North Pole where he learns that, as much of a water bender as he is, that he’s the son of someone from the Fire Nation closes pretty much every door to him. He’ll always be an outsider and the North Pole is very frosty towards him.

According to Hama, the South Pole is in shambles, so Tom probably doesn’t even bother going.

So Tom probably goes and bums around the Earth Kingdom, loitering in Ba Sing Se and Omashu, looking for that damned Spirit Library in the desert, etc. for a good number of years as he works to perfect his water bending and make himself an instrument of death.

And then he meets an alien and everything changes.

Lily

Tom probably manages to wander around the spirit world at one point in his late teens and probably almost gets eaten by something terrifying. While he learns much it’s not really anything useful and is more in the “too cosmic horror for Tom” variety. More than that though, something follows him back out.

When he comes to back in the real world there’s this thing sitting next to him that looks enough like a person but also like someone told a gifted artist what humans look like and they got it mostly right but also went a little nuts. It’s a girl, a few years younger than him, who has flaming red hair, absurdly green eyes, pale skin, and facial features he can’t recognize for the life of him (Lily still looking western in this to up the ante of ‘she’s an alien folks’).

Tom sacrifices his dinner to it and hopes it doesn’t eat him.

It explains that it’s a tourist from another dimension, beyond even the Spirit World, and that it’s come to see what the mortal world is all about. Tom is naturally very weirded out but at this point decides to roll with it.

Except it doesn’t leave and clearly expects Tom to play tour guide.

He does, reluctantly, because he doesn’t want to be eaten but he also sort of gets used to the thing. Then, one day, it starts bending multiple elements with utter ease and Tom is at first flabbergasted and horrified (only to remember that spirits can do what they want and aren’t like lowly mortals who can only bend one element) and then he gets the idea.

The Avatar, lazy bastard that he is (and Tom might be a little more than slightly bitter that he himself is not the Avatar), appears to be MIA and not coming back any time soon. The entire world it seems is waiting for the Avatar to come and save them. But, Tom says to himself, who needs the Avatar when you can just have an Avatar. An Avatar and, of course, her water bending master.

Thus, the scheme is set, Tom will teach this weird alien thing how to a) act like a goddamn human in public and b) water bending and together they will pretend she’s the Avatar and got lost in the spirit world a few decades ago (which accounts for the youthful age and the weird appearance) and use this to gain allies, topple the Fire Nation, and eventually give the throne to Tom.

Lily, who doesn’t know the difference between being a tourist and taking over a nation, goes along but is basically this story’s answer to Uncle Iroh always getting distracted by Pai Sho.

Haru/Dead Last

Given that they’re in the Earth Kingdom, and that Lee picks up water bending insultingly quickly which makes Tom fume in rage, they go to pick up an earth bending master/spread the word that the Avatar has returned from her multiple decades long vacation.

Along the way they probably run into Haru, who is the world’s most useless excuse for an Earth Bender. As always, he’s so average looking you can barely remember what he looks like beyond “generic earth bender”.

They probably watch him for two seconds, Lily asks if this is it, and Tom Riddle says, “what a joke”.

Minato Namikaze

Given that all the air benders are dead we’re going to make Minato a very talented earth bender (it is also very weird to imagine a dark haired/dark eyed Minato, but I suppose we’re going to roll with it). This also, to me, does fit his personality a little better as while he is a leaf on the wind kind of guy he also does dig his heels in and get very stubborn now and then.

Minato’s young, younger than Tom (Lee), but he’s incredibly talented and clever. To keep his shinobi background mostly in tact I imagine that Minato is a swiftly rising member of the Dai Li, stationed in Ba Sing Se, but who occasionally goes on intelligence missions to the other feudal powers in the Earth Kingdom.

So I imagine Lily and Tom run into him unnervingly frequently, probably first meeting him off duty in Omashu where he does his “extremely polite and friendly local guide” routine to show the pair the city (never mind that Tom insists he’s been to Omashu plenty of times goddammit). Despite this, Lily and Minato become friends, Lily easily confessing she’s the Avatar (which Minato at first thinks is a joke, even if she looks strange, then goes ‘oh my god, it’s not a joke).

Eventually Minato is stationed to spy on them under the guise of teaching Lily earth bending. So he joins the gang. Tom, who knows exactly what’s going on, is not amused while Lily is just happy to collect another friend who will actually play Pai Sho with her.

Kushina Uzumaki

Kushina is a earth bender, hands down. I debated making her a water bender (because whirlpool) but that personality is just pure earth bender material. Besides, I can just picture her so easily coming from Kyoshi.

So Kushina’s an earth bending Kyoshi warrior, who while ten times as powerful as Minato, also lacks any of his control or cleverness. Kushina has undoubtedly left Kyoshi, abandoning their neutrality, to join the war and kick some fire bender ass.

She does this but along the way frequently runs into the gang where she annoys the ever loving shit out of Minato (her new rival) and claims that Avatar Lily is her new idol.

Rabbit

Rabbit is a mysterious spirit from Lily’s past that she refuses to talk about except in the darkest of terms promising doom and destruction the likes of which the world has never seen.

No one knows how to react to this. Or what a plain old ‘rabbit’ even is.

Tobirama Senju

Because no story’s not complete without Tobirama, I imagine he’s a stuffy waterbender and scholar from the North Pole who Tom is miffed at as the man refused to teach him even more water bending. Tobirama naturally feels that the day he teaches a blatant spy is the day he goes and drowns himself.

Later, when Tom has picked up the Avatar and Tom rubs it in his face, Tobirama probably reluctantly spends a day or so teaching them something/fighting off the hordes of Fire Nation soldiers on their tale (it’s not Avatar if the gang isn’t constantly chased by fire benders).

Obito Uchiha

Obito is the answer to a fire bending instructor. Obito’s a firebender and the youngest son of a wealthy Fire Nation lord. However, Obito’s the black sheep of the family that everyone hates, a late bloomer when it comes to his bending, and is seen as bringing dishonor on the family.

Itching to prove himself, Obito becomes a soldier and goes to the Earth Kingdom, and eventually decides the best way to earn recognition and restore his honor is to capture the newly resurrected Avatar. Congratulations, Obito, you’re this story’s Zuko.

Obito, while not the most talented fire bender at first (though as he gets older he gets dangerously good at it) is extremely clever and becomes the largest threat to the gang.

That said, Obito actually does grow to like Lily quite a bit and begins to realize honor doesn’t actually mean that much to him and he doesn’t even really like his family. He doesn’t even dislike the concept of the Avatar and thinks the world probably does need one right about now.

So after a whole bunch of chasing them around the globe, thinking about his family, and being forced to almost kill the Avatar now and then he eventually defects and volunteers himself as fire bending instructor.

This is met with suspicion on all sides but he and Lily are bros so he wins.

Avatar Roku

Needing to pick up air bending, Lily probably fakes it until she makes it for a while, but eventually runs into Avatar Roku’s wandering spirit taking vacation from an ice cube.

He’s alarmed, but Aang’s trapped in ice, so if someone’s going to substitute then great.

To everyone else it just looks like Lily’s constantly talking to herself, playing Pai Sho with herself, and miraculously picks up air bending out of absolutely nowhere.

Also anyone close to Lee probably figures out she’s not really human/the avatar at this point, but they’ll take what they can get.

And This All Results In

Lily learns all the elements, there’s probably some big battle, then Lily gives some ridiculous speech about world peace that has nothing to do with anything and while the Fire Nation is defeated, Tom is not in fact made Fire Lord and remains merely the Avatar’s humble water bending instructor.

Instead, if he’s alive at this point, the crown goes to Iroh and he’s given a council of angry Earth Kingdom people who tell him to behave or else. We can give Iroh niceish things sometimes. That, or, hilariously, Obito becomes hokage/Fire Lord being distantly in line for the throne and doesn’t even know how that happened or what his life even is right now.

The colonies are the same mess in canon so something like Republic City probably eventually comes about.

Still, there’s peace, and probably statues to the gang all over the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes (while the Fire Nation grumbles and remembers the good old days when they controlled the world).

And then Aang eventually wakes up extremely confused and confronts Avatar Lily noting, “Hey, I’m the actual Avatar” and Lily after a suspiciously blank pause explains, “I said an Avatar, never said I was the Avatar”

So, that’s that. If anyone wants other specific characters added into this mess feel free to comment.

#ask #anon #avatar the last airbender #lily and the art of being sisyphus #minato namikaze and the destroyer of worlds #crossover #fusion

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totallyinsecurerobot · 3 years

Text

the only lovers left alive

Summary: Asterix’s history from the moment they meet David. They keep finding each other, they keep ending up together, and maybe it’s fate, or maybe no-one else understands them quite like they understand each other.

A/N: 7718 words. SFW but there’s implied nsfw stuff. It does get a little bit violent at times, and there’s light period-typical (1950s Hollywood) misogyny, implied sexual violence, and victim blaming. It’s all very light, just mentioned in passing, but I thought I should give you a heads up. COMPLETELY UNEDITED AND JUST KIND OF A MESS. PROBABLY OOC. WHATEVER. nb oc & nb marko. poly lost boys at the end there. shut up they’re all in love street smarts.

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Perhaps it’s that he’s looking to feel powerful, that he sees Asterix, corsetted and well-to-do, taller than most, and he picks them as a victim because they look like a challenge, bragging right to - to who? Their sire perhaps, any others in the area; but Asterix would know if there were others in the area, they’ve been here long enough after all. He’s new to this, Asterix can tell; it seems strange for him to be walking at a normal pace, the movements a little too thought out, where the speed would be second nature to a human. Asterix knows from experience that it takes some getting used to, they’ve been working on it for several centuries already, at the very least.

“You alright, ma’am, you know strange things are afoot in these parts, you should be careful walking around alone at night,” he’s trying to appear charming and nonthreatening, but his clothes don’t fit right; they’re dark enough to hide the blood he hadn’t been able to get out, but nothing could hide the smell from a vampire’s enhanced sense of smell. Asterix plays along.

“Oh my,” Asterix says, eyes wide, hands clutching tight at the silk of their elaborate skirt, “I’d heard rumours, terrible rumours, but I thought this was a nice part of town.” Of course they’d heard the rumours, they’d been the actual source of them, this newbie was just trying to capitalise on how Asterix had normalised disappearances. They weren’t sure whether to laugh or be mad.

“I’m sure you won’t be bothered,” he’s alternating between walking too fast and too slow, trying to keep in time with Asterix’s consistent pace, but not quite being able to hold himself back, “would you allow me to escort you back home, to your- your husband?” He hazards a guess, a product of the time; Asterix, biologically nineteen and dressed to appear feminine, should very well have a husband by now, or at the very least be betrothed; all he’s really doing is determining whether he has to attack before or after they get back to Asterix’s house.

“Oh, I- I’m not... I’m new to town, you see, my Aunt lived here after being widowed at a young age. She passed recently and left me her house, a beautiful property on the edge of town,” Asterix’s story isn’t actually much of a lie, apart from the fact that they’d killed the poor widower who lived on the edge of town and fabricated a new life from her demise, “I certainly shouldn’t be accepting offers from strange men,” Asterix casts what they hope is a nervous glance his way, and the blonde vampire takes an obliging step back, “but I suppose if you really were some dastardly villain, you’d have already seized your opportunity.”

He really should work on controlling his expression, Asterix thinks with heavily veiled amusement; he’s practically telegraphing the ‘this is going to be easier than I thought’ that’s running through his head as he offers an arm for them to take, to be escorted. He’s too quiet, movements too fluid; if Asterix were any other person, they’d find it unnerving, off-putting, in ways they wouldn’t be able to put their finger on. Here and now, as a vampire of several centuries, all Asterix can see his youth in his movements.

Under the guise of small talk, Asterix asks about what rumours he’d heard, and he’s more than eager to warn them of the Devil that’s found a home in town, snatching up young sinners and leaving them dead and drained in the woods.

The Devil... That’s what they’re calling Asterix, they’d heard demon, vengeful spirit, monster, but devil, which had been what they’d been going for initially, was finally starting to pay off.

“Well you’re no devil,” Asterix laughs lightly, giving his arm a squeeze, as if to convey their relief. He doesn’t realise how deliberately they’re playing him, how they’re just waiting for him to reveal himself, and ruin that surprise with one of their own.

“And what about you, ma’am, would you consider yourself a sinner?” His voice is low, intrigued and tiptoeing the line between menacing and thrilling, and Asterix’s throat suddenly goes dry. He wants nothing more than to kill them, they know this, logically they know this, but if he knew the truth, what would their answer really mean.

“It’s just a load of nonsense anyways,” Asterix says, taking a deep breath, leading down a far less lit street. They’re suddenly tried of playing along. But he chuckles, low and rough, and when Asterix turns to look at them, he’s looking back, face twisted into it’s vampiric form, eyes shining bright and golden in the darkness.

“Are you sure?” His voice is a menacing snarl, but Asterix doesn’t flinch in the face of this change, dropping their nervous act in an instant, smirking. Finally.

“Yes,” and he seems confused at their cool, smug expression, their lack of overt reaction, right until they let their own face shift, ridges forming, eyes turning that very same gold, dropping their voice to a growl of their own, “because the Devil’s not a he in this town.”

Honestly, Asterix had kind of been hoping to run this newcomer out of town for trying to capitalize on their good bad name; it’s not easy to make a whole town accept occasional random disappearances, it’s certainly not easy to make them all believe it was divine justice, and to not look for the actual source. What they hadn’t expected was to end up with him apparently living with them.

Like a lost duckling, he still follows them home, and when Asterix asks after his Sire, he gets all broody and angry and admits that he had no idea. They’re in the basement, which Asterix has outfitted for their undead purposes; it’s always cool down here, which also happens to be why they store the excess blood from their victims. No use letting it go to waste, their stomach is only so big after all, and it’s always good to go as long as possible between kills, as to not arouse suspicion. They offer him a jar and he drinks hungrily; he’d been hunting tonight after all, he was probably thirsty, it’s just basic curtesy.

“I’m not going to teach you how to be a vampire... ?” They hesitate, squinting at him, and he fills in the blank with his name.

“Davidson - well, for now it’s Davidson, and I know how to be a vampire,” he frowns, unscrewing the lid of the jar, sniffing the contents doubtfully.

“It’s not virgin’s blood, but that’s an old myth, believe me,” their voice is flatly unamused; the night is young, they had planned to fly a few states over and swim naked in a lake to confuse anyone who happened to see it, not mentor a young vampire, “and boy, I knew what you were the moment I saw you, just because others don’t know what they’re looking for doesn’t mean they won’t be able to tell something’s of. If something’s off about you, soon enough the town starts speculating,” and as they explain, they sit themselves on the velvet sofa, watching him wrinkle his hose as he sips the blood, “and soon enough, the rumours I’ve worked so hard to start, but not be associated with will be linked to you, and once you’re killed or run out of town, I’ll have to start somewhere new from scratch. You’re inconveniencing me by being bad at this,” they tell him, lip curling as they look him over, as if trying to radiate ‘it was fun to meet you and mess with you, but you’re more trouble than you’re worth’.

“I’ll hunt elsewhere, but you don’t get to dictate where I am,” he responded, before raising the jar of blood, licking the excess off his lips, “this is stale.”

“Then give it back and stop being ungrateful,” Asterix held out their hand for the jar, but Davidson quickly scowled, taking another, angry sip, “and if I say I don’t want you to harm a single living person within a fifty mile radius, you’ll damn well do as I say.”

“And what makes you think that?” He sneers, looking over them, in all their silk and finery, on a dainty sofa, his tone derisive and gaze dismissive. Asterix’s lips quirk into a smile that didn’t reach their eyes.

“Because you would not be the first of our kind that I have disposed of,” they’re blunt, unsmiling and unwavering, and Davidson seems to finally start taking them seriously.

But he also stays.

He never hunts within the fifty mile radius that Asterix had set, unless of course Asterix themselves had invited him along on one of the night they hunt in one of the neighbouring towns.

The story has changed too; no longer was Asterix simply playing Lady Estelle, the unfortunate and unwed niece of the widow Sinclair, but now she was actively betrothed to Davidson, the man she’d had to leave behind when she’d accepted ownership of the property. It was the only story that explained their vastly differing looks despite living, and occasionally being seen together.

For the entire first month of the arrangement, Asterix regretted ever agreeing to it. Realistically they knew that if they stuck with the story and the hunting pattern they’d developed, they’d be able to live comfortably here for a very long time, but it didn’t stop them from being irritated by Davidson’s smugness, how bloody and messy he’d be when he came back after feeding, and how he’d roll his eyes whenever Asterix would choose a jar over hunting. They’d icily tell him that it was about now drawing unnecessary attention to themselves; Davidson would simply stick to the rules that had been set, but always chose a hunt over saved blood.

To be fair, he doesn’t see them hunt for that first full month.

When Asterix invites him, Davidson barks a harsh laugh.

“Didn’t think you knew how,” he admits, and says he’s only tagging along to see how a professional does it - his words, sarcasm dripping from them.

And so Asterix takes him to the edge of the outer limit, a sleepy town some fifty miles away, where a man was waiting in a graveyard by the church. Davidson waits out of sight as Asterix directs him to, and he watches in fascination as they approach the man, dressed in silk and lace, and he calls them a name Davidson doesn’t recognize, but Asterix greets him in kind, all quiet and sordid. They kiss like long-separated lovers, and the man, breathless and quiet, talks about running away, about horses waiting nearby, about eloping just like they’d always talked about, and Asterix plays at being thrilled, at tearing up and agreeing, and letting the man slide a ring onto their finger.

It’s it’s own kind of horrifying, Davidson realises quickly, to see how smitten this man is, and to know his fate when the man does not. He follows along, watches them climb aboard a horse that almost bucks the moment Asterix comes close; the man they’re with calms the horse however, and then they’re off. It’s a drawn out process, a slow execution for the man who does not even realise he’s on death row, and it is all but driving Davidson mad as he follows them through the night, through the darkness, for several hours. He’s about to give up, to head home, half convinced Asterix is actually just marrying this man, when the horse stops.

The moon is high in the sky when they stop at Asterix’s insistence, and the man asks what’s wrong when they dismount. Asterix claims to need to stretch, but soon they’re wrapping their arms around him, voice low and intimate;

“It’s just you and me out here, like it should be; you and me for the rest of your life.”

The man doesn’t catch Asterix’s wording as they pull him into their embrace, fingers threaded through his hair, pressing a gentle kiss to his vulnerable throat, but Davidson does. It’s time; he descends from where he’d been circling them like a vulture. The horse spooks and bolts at the sudden newcomer, but this is about the time that Asterix’s teeth sink into the man’s neck, and he tries to struggle, but their grip is unyielding.

He’s begging, pleading, screaming, but as Asterix steps back, they raise their free hand to the wound, as if to stem the bleeding, face transformed and grinning eerily.

“He’s not long for this world, if you’d like to drink it fresh,” Asterix raises their voice, not looking away from the man, though Davidson knows they’re talking to him. The man in their hands screams louder at Davidson’s sudden appearance by his side, but there’s no-one else around to save him. Asterix steps behind the man, fingers still threaded through his hair to hold him in place as Davidson feeds, sloppy, not even half as elegant as Asterix had made it look, but it didn’t matter. Something about the feral, primal way in which he drank had a dark appreciation stirring in Asterix’s chest, and couldn’t help but lean in to the man’s other side and bite him again, to share in this moment.

He’ll lick the blood from their fingers, eyes aglow, and Asterix will remember what it felt like to be newly turned and fearless and reckless, and the power that came with it, the heady sense of invincibility that would surge through them in the afterglow of a kill. They couldn’t begrudge him his cockiness anymore.

There’s a moment, a sense of connection, of understanding, of finally seeing eye to eye, creatures acting on instinct alone in the dead of night. Later, Asterix will explain the countless men they have been wooing in secret, men betrothed or married to other women, men whose families are suspicious of affairs, but with no proof, men who could be called sinners, men who would be perfect targets for The Devil these little towns all feared. Later, they’ll take the body of the man back to their house to exsanguinate him, to not let his blood go to waste, to dispose of him the following night far away from the scene of the crime. Later, Asterix will take the ring off that the man gave them, and Davidson will see the countless other ones just like it in a jewelry box they keep in a dark corner of the basement, and he decides not to ask.

“Even when you kill you’re...” he searches for the words, but they’re not harsh or demeaning like they may have been before this night had occurred, “calculated; men in towns for miles, months of work put in, all so people don’t realise it’s you; it must feel so unnatural to suppress your instincts like that, aren’t you tired of it?”

“I am alive,” Asterix points out, though they grimace at the choice of words, but Davidson understands anyways.

“Next time, hunt with me, let yourself let go,” he urges, teeth sharp and eyes bright. Asterix remembers that tone, his words - and you, ma’am, would you consider yourself a sinner? - as they look at him and agree, exhausted by always playing by the humans’ rules.

It’s freeing to be feral; for the first time in decades, Asterix feels alive.

But still they hold back, terrified of being overcome completely by their bloodlust, too aware of the power they wield to use it to full capacity. Humans only ever require a miniscule amount of power to tear apart, there was no need, they told themselves, for overkill.

The good thing they’ve got going lasts all of five years before people start to get suspicious about how they never age. After a year has passed, they tell other that they’d eloped, if only to keep up the ruse; it would be suspicious if they kept their engagement going on too long in this part of world. They’re both equal parts horrified and amused by it all, not that it changes anything about their dynamic; they’re still free to do whatever they wish with whoever they wish, so long as the people in town never find out.

But still, Asterix gives him the ring that had been given to them by the first victim they’d shared, the night they’d finally started to respect each other. It’s meant partially as a joke, but Davidson wears it nonetheless.

When the time comes, and the townsfolk start asking questions that they can’t answer, they take what little belongings they’ve accumulated - Asterix takes their box of engagement rings - and burn the house they were staying in, no proof of their existence left behind, just the memory of a young couple tragically lost, and they go their separate ways.

Asterix, desperate for a change of scenery, secures passage on a ship headed to Europe, and spends a considerable few decades residing in various bogs across Europe’s various forests, preying on unfortunate explorers, and occasionally towns, if they were close enough. It’s like hibernating, as if turning their brain off to become the instinct-driven creature they truely were. Being away from society, away from humans, away from even others of their own kind, it was the exact reset they needed.

When emerging from their self imposed isolation, there comes news of a war in American having been and gone, and for the barest moment they consider going back, but ultimately decides against it. Instead they take up residency in the heart of London, sleeping in the cellar of a pub they managed to claim ownership of through dubious means. City folk are so desensitized to strange behaviors that they don’t think twice about the pub only ever being open at night, when most others offered a lunch service; they don’t question Asterix managing to be the only employee, it’s a small pub after all. No-one wonders why Asterix is never seen during the day, most assume they’re asleep anyways, since the pub is open practically ‘til dawn.

Sid Priestly, Asterix’s current identity, could be any other human on Earth as far as most of London was concerned. They don’t live in a secluded castle, or hiss, or float menacingly through the air, so none of the humans think to suspect them as anything other than one of their own, albeit one who keeps strange hours.

There’s a few vampires in London, mostly the standoffish types, however there’s a respect and understanding between them all, and they all know Asterix pub to be a place where they will be invited in without question. Asterix, for their part, had reinstated their habit of preserving their leftovers, and finds themselves incorporating blood into one of their dark beers, so their special guests could enjoy themselves as much as the humans.

The pub’s been open for almost nine months when he walks through the doors, looking pleasantly surprised in the golden glow of the overhead lights. One of the other vampires in attendance lights up at the sight of him, waving him over.

“Arthur! Glad you finally made it,” he grins, and turns to Asterix, “two of your finest dark beers, thanks Sid,” and Asterix obligingly turns to fetch two of the blood-infused beers.

“Arthur,” they acknowledge him with a nod and a smirk, placing the beer down in front of him as he sits, giving the other vampire his own, which he sips gratefully while ‘Arthur’ gives the beer a dubious look. His gaze flicks to Asterix, who’s watching with hesitant amusement, not quite sure how to proceed, and then he takes a sip.

“It’s stale,” he says with a knowing smirk, which breaks the tension, and Asterix smirks a laugh, despite the other vampire’s confusion.

“You ungrateful bastard,” Asterix shakes their head, pulling themself a beer and cheersing him.

“Do you two know each other?” The other vampire asks, and Asterix and ‘Arthur’ share a look.

“Sid’s my -” he pauses, giving a look to Asterix, to their masculine presentation and current identity, and he shifts a little, voice growing a little quieter for fear of the human patrons overhearing, “husband.” Asterix huffs a dismissive breath through their nose, rolling their eyes at the memory of their ruse, of their briefly shared life.

“Husband?” The other vampire asks, looking curiously between the two of them, intrigued.

“Wife at the time,” Asterix offers, “I’ve been a lot of things,” is the closest they get to any sort of explanation. It takes a beat for the other vampire to consider, but then he’s shrugging, mentioning that he doesn’t think the beer, or it’s special ingredient, tastes stale; Asterix gives him a toothy, pleased smile, while ‘Arthur’ rolls his eyes despite hiding his grin against the lip of his cup by taking another drink.

There’s an understanding within the community, of outliving the restrictive, human concept of identity, in almost all respects. It’s easier to explore who you are when you literally have all the time in the world; many find labels that fit them, pronouns and names that are comfortable, finding variations of themselves each time they move. Without the pressures or expectations of human society, it’s also easier to be comfortable being with whoever they choose to, especially when they’re more than comfortable ripping apart anyone to cast negative aspersions on them for their choice of partner - or partners.

“You don’t get to claim part ownership of the pub just because we told people we were married fifty years ago,” Asterix closes the pub early that night, finding themself sitting atop the roof with ‘Arthur’. Neither of them is quite sure how to interact with the other, sitting a foot apart, drinking a pint in the moonlight.

“I don’t plan on staying long,” he says, looking out to the city while Asterix is watching him, “thought I’d go be a nuisance around Romania; America’s gotten boring.”

There’s something about him that’s different from when they’d last seen him, something easy and uncomplicated about his movements. His grin stretches wide, leaning back on his elbows, confident, sure of himself. It’s only in seeing him again that Asterix can feel how much his absence ached. It had only been five years, of the few hundred that Asterix had endured at this point, what had been so special about him that they’d been so effected?

He looks at them, smiling sharp and fond in equal measure.

“You’ve gone all soft in your age,” he teases, and immediately Asterix feels themselves growing flustered in their outrage, “serving humans, and not even attempting to court on a single one? How do you ever feed yourself if you’re not stealing the hearts of unfaithful bachelors?”

“I get by,” Asterix tells him, “I’ve got an understanding with some of the others; I don’t have to do the dirty work anymore, my loyal customers provide me with everything I could ever need.”

“Surviving on scraps, always surviving on scraps,” he tuts, “I think you’re scared of yourself, I think you always have been.”

“Arthur,” Asterix warns, eyes flashing a dangerous gold.

“What are they going to do if they figure out what you really are? Kill you, Sid?” He half laughs, and Asterix sits up straighter, tensing at his words, feeling the powers that runs through their blood, their muscles, the centuries of experience built up beneath their skin, “or do you just miss being human that much that you’d do anything to pretend you’re still like them?”

“I am alive,” Asterix snarls, lip curled into something dangerous and menacing, face half-shifted to it’s monstrous form, something they haven’t had to use in what feels like years. He watches them carefully, can see the nerves he’s touched, their button’s he’s pushed, and seems to delight in their indignation.

And maybe it’s that he’s seeing the person he met all those years ago, seeing an opportunity to prove his power; he’d been young then, inexperienced, unsure of his power in relation to them, but his confidence had grown in their absence. He is aware of what he is capable of, and thinks, finally, that he could rival the vampire who’d taken him in all those years ago.

When he pins Asterix faster than a human eye could comprehend, he’s surprised by how easy it is. They’re flat on their back, his knees planted either side of their hips and his hands pinning their wrists either side of their head; for the barest moment, they lock eyes and share in a strange sense of deja vu. Asterix flushes.

“What are you looking to prove?” Asterix asks, turning their head to look at his hand holding their wrist; they flex and unflex their fingers, otherwise unbothered.

“Are you scared of being a vampire? Is that why you try so hard to drink so little? To kill so little? To push down your instincts, deny your nature?”

When Asterix looks back at him, his eyes are aglow, face twisted to reveal his true nature, just like they’d seen countless times before; he thinks he has the upper hand, that like this, he can provoke a reaction from them, get them to fight back.

They’re far too aware of their own capabilities to act so rashly, instead, with surprising ease, they sit up, into his space, surprising him, forcing him back to sit on their thighs, hands raising too, like his grip meant nothing.

“Sweetheart, if I wanted to raze towns, I am more than capable, but if I let myself burn down the world, what would be left? You?” They smiled, but it didn’t reach their eyes. Upon hearing their words, however, their companion actually grins, leaning in as his face changes back to it’s more pleasant disguise, pressing a familiar kiss to their lips.

“I never said to burn the world, but a hundred years ago, people thought you were the Devil; you’re beautiful and terrible, but even then you’d held yourself back,” he’s still holding their wrists, grip loose with their hands in their lap, the two of them nose to nose on this rooftop.

“I’ll always be beautiful and terrible, but I’m not about to sacrifice my comfort for a cheap thrill,” they murmur, lips inches from his, despite their discomfort with the subject.

“You never miss stalking a beautiful lady or handsome gentleman through the night in a quiet town in another country? You never miss...?” And he trails off, fingertips sliding up Asterix’s left arm, their shoulder, to their neck, thumb gentle against their jaw as he tips their head just a little, a gesture they both know all too well, but that Asterix is unfamiliar with being used against them. A shiver runs down their spine.

“Why do you care so much?” Asterix frowned, tipping their head back against his hand, surprised when he holds their jaw instead of moving away. Something unfamiliar began to ache in a spot behind their sternum, close to where their heart should be.

“Because it’s been a hundred years,” and then he’s holding their face gently in both hands, smirking a little, “and you’re still just surviving, I haven’t spent this past century just being afraid, and I’m still here,” he points out, and Asterix bites their tongue on the urge to ask how many of those years he spent on the run, “you’ve thoroughly proven you can lay low, you can live in a bog for decades, so what does it matter if you terrorize a few cities? Burn a few towns to the ground then be a bog mummy, at least some of the time you’d be having fun.”

“I’m having fun now,” Asterix says quietly, blushing a little at the intimacy of it all, but then, as if resentful of his words, “I am fun.” They kiss him like they’re proving a point, something familiar and warm joining that strange sensation in their chest when ‘Arthur’ kisses them back, smiling against their lips.

“How strong are you actually?” He finally asks, pulling back with their hands gripping his hips firmly, still technically in their lap. Asterix’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“We get stronger with age,” they’d said, though their lack of an actual answer does not go unnoticed.

“You’ll always be stronger than me, won’t you?” He smirks when he looks at them, and their lips twist into a wry, fond smile, leaning into his touch against their cheek.

“‘till we die,” they agree, eyes now sparkling with mischief. This news seems to both delight and disappoint him for very different reasons.

They keep finding each other in the years that follow, always with new names, new lives, new identities. Sometimes they’re together for weeks, for months, sometimes only for hours, but every time it’s like they’d never left one another’s side.

Asterix has conned their way, through both magical and non-magical means, into a life as a Russian noble at the turn of the 20th century, and he finds them at a masquerade. They’d know each other anywhere. They’re meant to be dancing with potential suitors, but the whole night they’re by his side. That night, they kill another member of nobility who had been suspicious of Asterix, who’d been planning a coup against the head of the family who’d welcomed them with only little persuading.

After the carnage of the kill, of the high they rode together, they sleep through the day, silk bedsheets and boarded up windows, a lie on Asterix’s behalf about a rare sleep disorder meaning no-one came in or asked questions, and the following night, he takes off, and Asterix acts surprised when the news of the previous night’s kill finally comes to light.

Wars come and go, and Asterix finds themselves in the middle of them, and sees men a fraction of their age take more pleasure in killing than they’d ever allowed themselves. They fight, and take bullets, and take orders from men who have never known real fear. The humans they fight alongside live like every day is their last in the time between the fighting, lives on the line because someone said it should be, from relative safety.

And they lose humans they considered friends, and they start tearing out throats, they stop caring about what if because everyone here would die quickly, they all knew it. Asterix felt like the only one with half a chance to outlive the war.

‘and you’re still just surviving’

So they start living, start letting themselves be sloppy and angry and give in when they want to fight and break bones and spill blood, because the government comes, and the government doesn’t care, and the government admits ‘we had some like you fighting with Lincoln’ and ‘we had some like you fighting with Washington’ and ‘we always had some like you’ and all they care about it what side Asterix is on.

The War ends, but the next starts in what feels like a blink after the centuries Asterix has been through, and they come out the other side understanding that the things they’d feared for so long don’t matter, that the consequences they feared would not affect them; if they were smart, the government wouldn’t care, and other people were too weak to be a real threat, so they have fun with their identity. They get malevolent after watching their fragile, human friends die, and they learn how to target terrible people, how to find humans more monstrous than themselves, and how to deliver the justice that the justice systems will not give.

In the 1950s, they’re working in the violent crimes unit in LA, focusing on targeting serial sexual abusers in Hollywood, after listening to countless victims teary statements, and hearing the men on their team laugh behind the victim’s back, saying that’s just how Hollywood was. Asterix made sure to remember each man who’d ever said that about a distraught woman, mentally promising to take them each out before they leave for their next identity.

He’s calling himself David when Asterix finds him in a bar on the waterfront, and he’s like a breath of fresh air. He admits to liking how Asterix was operating, how free they seem, and accompanies them when they offer to take him on a hunt.

By now, Asterix’s victims have all been killed in the same way, nothing to denote a vampire, but clearly a serial killer’s work, someone with experience, and within no time it’s thought to be a hitman. David’s more than happy to stick to their MO, especially since they still both get to drink their fill, and he’s delighted with how unhinged Asterix gets in the act.

People started to see the pattern, the connection between the victims, and more people come forward about others in the industry who’ve committed similar atrocities. They don’t quite know who to tell; some go to the police, some go to confessional, some tell their friends, but Asterix seeks out their voices, their testimonies, and their list grows until the word of the victims’ atrocities gets around.

They’re calling Asterix the Actresses Avenging Angel, since most atrocities had been committed against aspiring or active actresses. It’s a new version of the town that believed the Devil killed the immoral few, but it’s a title they wear with pride.

But one of Asterix’s coworkers sees them leave a bar with David, and calls them names that sting, that have Asterix’s blood boiling, all in front of the rest of their team. A team that never took them seriously when they took the assault victim’s side against a powerful man in Hollywood.

They were tired of this town anyways; their list had stopped growing so fast since the Actresses Avenging Angel had become popular folklore.

They’re on the run for almost twenty years after that day, after leaving no-one alive in that evening briefing, after stealing away into the night. The government does tend to care when Asterix, or people like them, kill a whole department of a police force.

So they lay low near Washington state, changing their look, writing ‘*’ whenever their name was required; someone asked out loud if their name was Asterix, and yes, they supposed it fit. They’d always had to be something to fit into society, but they’re tired of being anything when they never felt like anything, so ‘boy or girl?’ is met with a solid ‘no’, and they stop caring about the confusion it elicits. They will outlive confusion. They will outlive everything and everyone. Almost everyone.

In the eighties, they hear a rumour about a beachside town in California having an unusually high death-rate, how strange and unexplained it all was, and perhaps it was loneliness, perhaps it was that they were missing a very specific person, but Asterix travels in hopes of finding David. They are not disappointed.

They meet Max first, their lip curling in disgust at how he holds himself, how he parades himself like everyone else when he’d been just as smarmy and unbearable in the Late Middle Ages.

“You,” he says flatly, nostrils flaring as the only sign of his discomfort at the sight of them. He and Asterix had been sired by the same vampire some centuries ago, within a few decades of each other. He’d always resented Asterix for being simultaneously older and younger than him. Also he’d been the one to kill their sire fifty years after being turned.

“It’s Asterix now,” Asterix tells him, and Max’s lips thin into an unamused line, but before he can say anything, his gaze flicks over their shoulder to the door where there was a sudden commotion, sudden laughter. When Asterix turns, it’s to the sight of a display rack on the ground, and of two blonde boys trying not to laugh, leaning into each other as they insist they found it like that.

The eighties look is certainly kind to David. He’s always been pretty, but now he’s allowed to dress in a way that’s enhanced by his dangerous aura, and Asterix has never been so glad to see him.

And his expression lights up when he catches sight of them too.

“Asterix, do you know these people?” Max asks flatly, and if Asterix didn’t know any better, they would have thought he didn’t have any clue who they were, but judging by the sobering expression on David’s face, they knew each other far too well.

“Of course,” Asterix answers, smile turning cat-like and smug, if only to see Max grow more irritated, working harder to hide it.

“Asterix, this is Marko,” David says, unprompted, introducing the other blonde boy with curly hair and a slight frame; Marko is quiet by David’s side, looking over Asterix with something evaluative in his eyes, something evaluative and intrigued.

“All of you, get out; I told you boys aren’t allowed in here,” Max orders, and Asterix flips him off before making a beeline for the boys, and the exit. Marko stays quiet, but he, like Asterix, is comfortable falling into step by David’s side as the three of them head to somewhere more secluded on the boardwalk.

There’s a streetlight out over a picnic table not too far away, and Asterix is quick to sit, to make themselves a reasonable height out of habit, before David takes their face in his hands. It’s like he’s checking that they’re okay, looking in their eyes, hands on their arms, their hips, coming to rest on their knees, wordlessly checking in.

“Marko, this is Asterix,” David steps out of the way, gesturing to Asterix with one hand while his other still resting on their thigh. Marko steps up, offers his hand for them to shake with a grin. “They’re...” but David trails off, unsure of how to introduce them now, after all the time they’ve known each other, after all they’ve been to one another. But Marko seems to understand; he’s emotionally entwined with David the way Asterix more or less is, and surprisingly, Asterix realises very quickly that they don’t mind.

“Are you planning on staying long?” David asks later in the night, watching Marko as he talks with another pretty, blonde boy who they’ve apparently been talking to for a while, Paul. They’re intending on turning him, with Max’s blessing; Asterix is less than happy to find out that Max is technically the leader of the coven, and is right furious to find out that he’s David’s actual Sire, the one who’d abandoned him all those years ago. But he keeps himself separate from the younger vampires, so Asterix is more than happy to hang with the boys.

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me,” Asterix says gently, and David’s arm snakes around their hips, hand coming to rest on their hip, fingers spread wide and warm and possessive against the edge of Asterix’s exposed stomach beneath their crop top. It’s enough of an answer for Asterix to lean against him, to sling their arm across his shoulders.

Paul, where he’s talking to Marko, casts a dubious look to the pair leaning against the streetlight, arms around each other. Asterix winks at him, and though Paul quickly averts his gaze, his smile widens. It’s easy for them to adapt to this dynamic that Marko and David had developed, so long as there was a place for them. They’re more than happy to make a place for others too.

So Asterix makes a life for themselves with the boys in the abandoned hotel at the edge of the cliff, quickly getting close to both Marko and Paul once he’s been turned. They don’t think about how good it feels to not be afraid of their friends dying, or being killed suddenly. David doesn’t comment on how grateful they seem to have friends at all. Or perhaps it’s more than that, perhaps they’re all more than that; physical intimacy is clearly not a foreign concept.

Marko and Asterix will share an armchair while reading a magazine, cheek to cheek, him in their lap with their arms around his middle, and Paul has a penchant for taking one of the others down a dark alley or to a shadowy corner, only to emerge with kiss bruised lips and a flushed complexion, and in a year they have Dwayne too, who comes across as brooding to anyone who doesn’t know him well enough, never more happy than when he has his arm around a member of their little, insular gang, possessive and proud in equal measure.

Marko’s like them too, more than they realized, they learn, not nothing, like they are, but sometimes he’s both or neither or somewhere in between. Mostly they’re he but he also feels like they, and he doesn’t mind which they’re called, as long as it’s someone they love doing the calling.

Love. He’s free with that word. Freer than Asterix or David ever was, no matter how much either of them thought it in all the years they’ve known each other. But Marko says it and it sounds right. It sounds like the word Asterix was too scared to think back on the roof of their pub in London, a hundred years ago, when David had them pinned and all they could see was him backlit by stars.

“We’re a far cry from your silk bedsheets and Russian nobles,” David’s smirking up at the ceiling in the hours before dawn, stretched out on the moth bitten sheets of one of the hotel’s beds. Asterix is curled up by his side, eyes closed and content. It’s just the two of them in the hotel for now, the other three having gone out to stalk a group of assholes that had been harassing their latest person of interest, a beautiful young woman named Star.

The others don’t quite know how far back Asterix and David’s history goes, but everyone knows they’re close, know they can speak their own language without saying a word.

“You were Svetlana then, weren’t you?” He adds, and Asterix hums in confirmation, and David quietly muses that he’s not even sure if he’d given himself a proper name in Russia, since he’d just been passing through. “Do you still have that box of rings from the eighteen-hundreds?” He asks, half smiling, tightening his grip on them, pulling them a little closer at the memory.

“They were lost when my pub was burnt down,” Asterix told him, though this was new information to David, and came as a shock, “after Bram Stoker published Dracula, someone accused my pub of hosting several vampires; I was never accused directly, but someone noted how my patrons only ever seemed to come out at night, and they thought it would be best if the whole pub was taken out as a precaution. They were right, of course, but it was still fucked; I’m fine, obviously.”

“Do you want mine back?” David asks candidly, “you worked hard for them, you should have at least one as a keepsake,” his words catch Asterix by surprise, and they’re quiet for a very long time, trying to process what this all means, how this makes them feel. He kept their ring. All this time.

“It’s yours, I gave it to you,” they say, soft and gentle, finally looking at his face. He’s still looking at the ceiling, but he’s grinning, “do you not want it?”

“Depends; are we still fake-married?” When he looks at them, he’s grinning from ear to ear, all kinds of mischief and adoration at play in his expression, and Asterix’s expression melts to a sly grin as their tone turns teasing.

“As if I’d remarry after you,” they snort, and David quickly turns back to the roof, though it doesn’t quite hide his flustered grin, as he quietly mutters for them to shut up, voice full of affection -

“Get dressed, Star’s “friends” are having a bonfire and we’re gonna have a feast,” Paul bursts into the room with absolutely no warning, all but crashing through the door mid-landing, too excited to walk anywhere at a half-normal speed. He’s grinning from ear to ear, throwing articles of clothes at the pair like a hurricane localised entirely at the end of the bed.

Once the pair are getting dressed and know where to go, Paul is already gone, leaving them in relative silence, and Asterix glances over to see David patting down his pockets, before fishing a thin, gold necklace from his back pocket, holding it, and the familiar ring that hung from it, out to Asterix like proof, like an offering.

“You’ve gone soft in your old age,” Asterix grins instead, echoing his words back at him from a hundred years ago. David rolls his eyes, but puts the chain around his neck and tucks it into his shirt before they leave.

When they arrive, they let the others take the first bites, pun intended. Lord knows they’ve committed enough destruction to keep them sated for several lifetimes.

“Strange bedfellows we keep,” Asterix voice is low, teeth sharp and eyes ablaze as they drunk in the sound of the carnage. They hook two fingers into one of David’s beltloops while he watches his fellow vampires tearing their victims apart like lions tearing into gazelles. Asterix steps up to him, lets him curl an arm around them as they both watch with hungry expressions as the carnage unfolds.

“Feels good,” Asterix murmurs, locking eyes with a poor human trying to escape; neither Asterix nor David has allowed their face to shift to it’s true form just yet, so the human runs to them, begging for help. Asterix steps forward, is by the man’s side in a blur, too fast for him to get away as they wrap one arm around him, the other in his hand, pulling his head to the side to expose his neck, “though I do miss people thinking I was the Devil,” they call over their shoulder with a sharp smirk, eyes a bright gold.

David’s laugh fills the night air, amid the screams, amid the crackle of the fire, as Asterix sinks their teeth into the man’s neck.

#the lost boys #The Lost Boys 1987 #the lost boys imagine #tlb #the lost boys fanfiction #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #violence tw

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

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The Cat’s Meow - Jumin Han x Fem!Reader Pt 14

Okay okay, I am SO sorry for the soap opera last chapter, but it was either that or write a messy divorce and I wasn’t feeling that. But the drama’s not over yet.

Part 14: Are You Afraid of Me

The following weeks after the wedding disaster, I can’t even leave my house. There are news reporters and paparazzi literally camping outside my yard. There’s also body guards from C&R stationed around my home, which is probably the only thing from keeping the cameras out of my window. That doesn’t stop the random few who attempt to approach under the guise of delivery people. At one point, Sarah Choi and her sister pound on my door demanding my head, or something like that. It’s not like I answered the door for them. My face is all over the news and people are calling me all sorts of terrible names. Even death threats came through, which I assume is another reason the guards are here.

For a while, only Zen is allowed into my home, based solely on the fact that he has a key. He’s the only reason I haven’t starved yet. I know he’s never liked my home due to Mako, but he puts up with it and I really appreciate it. After those initial weeks, when people begin to give up on interviews, Luciel, Yoosung, and Jaehee reenter my life. Yoosung keeps me updated on the clinic; thankfully, they’re managing to get through my absence. Eventually, I become yesterday’s news and Jaehee tells me she has to take the guards away, for which I thank her. I venture out and return to work, but for a while, work and home are the only places I go. Occasionally, someone will come in under the guise of a client but really just wants to interview me. Yoosung definitely gets his practice in on those days, dealing with the client and most of the work on the animal. It takes a lot for Corine not to cuss people out when they use their animal to try to get to me though.

I’m reading over random news feed online when I hear my phone buzz noiselessly. It’s been two solid months since I last had a call from Jumin, and three total since the wedding incident. Fresh wounds in my heart tear open at the sight of his smiling face on the screen. Reaching over lifelessly, I press the reject button.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the front door. Zen’s supposed to be stopping by today. I sigh and go to answer the door. I instantly regret doing so when I come face to face with not Zen. Without a word, he takes my wrist and pulls me out the door. It slams behind me but he pulls me down the steps and to a waiting car.

“Let go of me! Jumin! Let go!” I scream, struggling uselessly against his grip. My heart is pounding in my ears and thoughts of Dark Jumin are racing through my head. “Jumin! Let go!”

Uncharacteristically rough, Jumin opens the car door and shoves me inside before sliding in after me. I reach for the opposite door, only to find it child locked, meaning I’m trapped in here.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! This is kidnapping! Let me out!” I can’t even roll down the windows. Glaring out the window, Jumin won’t answer me. Tears build up in my eyes and I start to seriously panic inside. “Take me home right now! Jumin Han, you won’t get away with this!” The closer we get to his house, the more my words turn to begging. “Please. Let me go. I wanna go home.”

Without a change of expression, Jumin pulls me up to his pent house. I stand in the middle of the room, trembling, with a soaking face.

“Why are you doing this? Please. I want to go home,” I cry.

Finally, Jumin’s stern expression breaks. “I need you to stay here.” When I sniffle, he pulls the handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabs at my face. I’m honestly afraid to resist. “Please don’t cry, my love.” My heart stammers and his words have created more tears. There’s a genuine fear in my heart that I may have just been kidnapped.

“_____, listen to me. Elizabeth the 3rd went missing.” I peek up at him but it doesn’t really slow my crying. “There are people trying to destroy and hurt members of the RFA. I have reason to believe they kidnapped my cat and I fear that you’ll be next. You have to stay here, where I can see you, where you’re safe.”

“No! I don’t want to be here! I’ll go somewhere else! I-I’ll go to Luciel’s! Please don’t make me stay here!”

There’s pain across his face. “I’m trying to keep you safe, ______. Why can’t you understand that?”

“I understand but I don’t want to be here! Aren’t you listening to me?!”

“What did I do to make you hate me?” The words are like a slap in the face. His face holds a mix of anger and hurt. “I’m trying to protect you. The least you could do is say thank you!” I fear the anger that rises in him and shrink beneath him. His eyes drop to my arm. “I’m sorry. I must’ve handled you too roughly.” I notice the large bruise forming and pull my arm closer to my chest in a weak attempt to conceal it from him. Ignoring me, he gestures to his home. “Make yourself at home. Use anything you need or rearrange it if you prefer. If there’s anything you need, please tell the chief of security. I’ve told him to provide anything you request.” He pauses, taking me in. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Please, just stay here.”

Without another word, he simply walks back out the door he brought me in. I run after him but the door is locked. My knees give way.

After some time, I gather myself and call Luciel.

“Hello?”

I sniffle “Luciel, listen to me. I need you to go to my house and get Mako.”

“Huh? What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. It’s Jumin. I’m trapped in his house.”

“What?! Wh-Oh no…It’s Elizabeth isn’t it?”

“He said something about someone might have kidnapped her but he came to my house and forced me into his car and now I’m stuck in his house.” I resist the crying again. “I-I need you to take care of Mako for a while for me, please.”

“Okay. Just leave your fluffy friend to me. He’ll love me almost as much as he does you when you come get him.”

“Thanks Luciel.”

There’s a moment’s pause. “Listen, _____. There’s a very real possibility that Elly was kidnapped by some people trying to get at the RFA. And because you’re friends with all of us and you were so important to Jumin, there’s a high chance they’d come after you too. I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but Jumin’s home is probably the safest place you could be right now.”

“But I…I don’t want to be around him right now,” I mumble.

“I know. But you’re safe there. You know he’ll do everything in his power to keep you safe,” he tries to reason. “We’re doing everything we can to fix this, so please just be patient. We’ll get you out of there as soon as we can.”

I have no choice but to relent. Jumin’s been irrational throughout our entire relationship, but Luciel hasn’t given me any reason to doubt him.

“Okay,” I sigh.

“Don’t worry, _____. Everything will be okay.” He turns on his silly demeanor. “God Seven is on the job!”

I sniffle but feel calmer having talked to someone else. “Alright.”

After bidding Luciel goodbye, I spend the time without Jumin going over every inch of his home that I haven’t explored before; even if Luciel says this is for my own good, I’m not about to let Jumin get another one over on me. I want a backup plan in case things go downhill. Alas, being very high off the ground with guards at the only door does not make finding escape routes easy. However, as I pass through the kitchen for the third time, I notice the knife holder full of shiny silver blades on the counter.

No! Stop it. It will not come to that.

And then the kidnapper returns come sunset. “I’m back. I hope you’ve been finding everything to your liking.” From my spot on the sofa, I simply glare at him. “What would you like for dinner?” No response. “You’re making being a good host very difficult,” he huffs, wandering into his bedroom.

He makes another attempt to share dinner with me but I ignore it and he eats alone. I can tell it bothers him but there seems to be less anger and more of a wounded expression. I’m sure my stubbornness is only one on a list of several problems he has right now. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about his cat. That still doesn’t give him the right to treat me the way he did.

Jumin sits on the other end of the couch with a heavy sigh; I scoot as far as I can to the other end. His silver eyes slight. “Would you stop acting like a victim,” he growls.

Purely insulted at his lack of a grasp on the situation, I snap back, “And how is someone who’s been kidnapped supposed to act?!”

His fists tighten. “What was I supposed to do? Let them come for you?! At least I’m trying to keep you safe! For all I know, my cat is dead!”

“This wouldn’t be a problem if you just moved on!”

“That’s rich coming from the woman who confessed she loved me after ruining my wedding!”

“You ruined your own damn wedding! I was in support of your marriage, you ass!”

“If you were in support of me marrying another woman, you shouldn’t have come!”

“You personally wrote the invitation asking me to come!”

“BECAUSE I STILL LOVED YOU!”

Off the sofa, I round the furniture to put some distance between us. Jumin gets to his feet, clearly seething.

“Why are you even doing this?! You confessed! Why are you still fighting when I know you love me?!”

“I already told you; it won’t work! So just leave me alone!”

I start for the hallway when he catches my arm. Immediately, all my defiance vanishes when I’m faced with a man who, not only has me locked in his home, but is clearly larger and stronger than I am.

“No! For once you’re going to give me some straight answers!” the man snarls, looming over me. “Why do you have to be so frustrating when all I’ve ever wanted to do is take care of you?!” Words caught in my throat, I fumble in trying to pry his hand off me.

Jumin has grabbed me before, on multiple occasions. As it’s always when he’s upset, it’s firm, but never painful. I’ve always known he never intended to harm me but this is entirely different. His grip is digging into my muscles and this is the first time he’s ever shaken me, sending my fear sky rocketing.

“Answer me!”

Fueled by terror, I lash out at him, my free hand making contact across his face. I scramble towards the kitchen the instant I’m free. Reaching across the counter, I grab a knife from the holder and point it at him. Immediately, Jumin takes a step back, a nice red mark forming on his cheek.

“_____, put the knife down,” he says cautiously.

“What’s wrong, Jumin?!” I snap, inching towards him. “I thought you were upset with me! I THOUGHT YOU WANTED ANSWERS!”

Holding hands up, the heir eases back with each of my steps towards him. “We’re both rational adults. Put the knife down and we can talk about this.”

“There’s nothing rational about you when you’re angry!”

“I’m not currently the one holding a knife,” he retorts. That short stint of bravery goes out the window when the one actually holding the knife continues to get closer. “Put it down, _____.”

“NO! You think you get to put your hands on me whenever you want?! Grab me?! Shake me?! Pull me around?! Then you better be fuckin’ prepared for a fight!”

“I don’t want-”

“SHUT UP! IT’S MY TURN!” He flinches as I scream at him. “That first night we had drinks, you did the same thing! You kept me trapped here all night against my will! And since then, any time you get upset, you push me around and bully people AND I’M GETTING SICK OF IT!”

Jumin’s back hits a wall and he freezes. His entire body presses against the wall as much as possible and all the color drains from his face.

“YOU DO NOT CONTROL MY LIFE! YOU DO NOT PUSH ME AROUND! AND YOU SURE AS HELL DO NOT PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME!” My fist clenches around the front of his shirt and I raise the knife above my head. “ARE YOU AFRAID OF ME YET?!”

Eyes locked onto the knife and trembling, Jumin doesn’t say a word. I study him, full of anger and pain and even if I’m ashamed of myself for this, I know I’ve got my point across. The tears break through and the knife clatters to the floor.

“Because that’s how I feel every time you’re angry…” I mutter, letting go of him.

“Wh-What?” he stammers.

My knees give way. Head hanging forward, I’m so sick of crying lately. In shocked silence, Jumin slides to the floor. Not a word passes between us for some time and I wonder when he’ll regain the courage to have me thrown out.

“Do you…really feel so terrified around me?”

Rubbing at a bleary eye, I peek up at him. He’s wearing a look of pain and that sorrow from earlier makes a reappearance.

“When you get mad,” I mutter. His face falls into his hands and he shudders. “I love you, Jumin. But I’m afraid. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m going to ruin your life. And sometimes I’m afraid of you.”

I’ve done a lot of crying over the last few months and, as a vet, I’ve seen a lot of people cry. But the last thing I ever thought I’d see is Jumin cry. I hate it. I wanted him to break and understand just exactly how I felt, but I hate this. There were other things I could have done…Zen was right.

Crawling forward, I slip my hands around his face, making him look at me. “Before we can do anything or make any decisions, I need you to understand how I feel.”

He barely manages a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Pushing my way onto his lap, I hold him against me and spill everything. The worries, the fears, weaknesses, reasoning; all of it comes out as I try desperately to explain why I’ve been afraid of acknowledging his feelings. He fully believed that I never cared about his status, but in reality, it was a key factor in me keeping my distance.

“And I knew I should’ve stopped talking to you, stopped encouraging you, but I’m so weak for you,” I say, my fingers making another pass through his hair. “And now we’re in this mess where I can’t even get out of bed without tearing my own heart out and we’re in the news for scandals and the person I care about most is a complete mess and…And I’m so sorry.” I let my forehead fall against the top of his head, trying to keep together.

Jumin leans back, eyes flickering over my barely composed face. To my surprise, he starts to chuckle. His warm thumb brushes across my cheek. “We’re a shipwreck, aren’t we.”

“It’s train wreck, Jumin,” I giggle, returning the gesture. “And yes, we definitely are.”

He heaves a sigh. “I never want you to be afraid of me. I’ll…I guess I could look into anger management? I don’t really know what to do about this but I know I want to fix it.”

I brush his hair back. “I don’t know if it’s anger management so much as you need to trust that I can take care of myself. Just because I have a bruise doesn’t mean I’m a damsel in distress. Sometimes it just means I’m clumsy.” I nuzzle my nose against his. “Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I can scare off most guys on my own.”

I hear the skittering and glance to see him push the knife away. “Yeah, I kind of learned that one.” We both fall to laughter. “I’ll work on it. I promise, I’ll try.”

“Thank you.”

“Now it’s your turn.” My brows pop. “You ignored both our feelings in an attempt to protect my career?”

My shoulders droop. “Jumin, I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel to survive while you fly out to Paris just to avoid going to dinner with your dad. I have student loans I may never be able to pay off and you buy entire islands for the RFA to go vacation on…You’d be the laughing stock of the upper class for going out with me. Besides, I heard your father; I know he doesn’t approve of me.”

“I’m a grown man who had a cat-themed birthday party. As long as it’s for you, I don’t care what anybody else thinks. As for my father, as a womanizer, I don’t think he gets any say in whatever relationship I choose. Even if he could do anything to hold it over my head, I’d give up everything for you.” I press a fist against my mouth. “I would give up my company, my money, my life as the C&R heir to be with you. I’d grab a suitcase of clothes and move in with you right now if you want. A life with you is far more valuable than any of that.”

I shake my head. “Jumin, you could have the pick of all the women in the world. Your assistant is beautiful, the last woman you had a crush on was like a goddess, even the snooty woman you were engaged to was pretty. So why would you pick me? They’ve got the credentials and the looks; so why would you pick me over them?”

A hand slips into my hair, pressing my forehead to his. “First of all, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and nothing can convince me otherwise: not Serah Choi, not Assistant Kang, and not Rika, no one. And second, I’m new to this whole loving another person thing, but even I know looks and financial stability aren’t everything in a relationship.”

“Is this where you get all cheesy and tell me how great I am?” I grumble, leaning back.

“Hmhm. Well it was supposed to be. But I suppose we’d be here all night listing all the things I love about you. Let’s just say I love everything about you, except maybe how idiotically selfless you can be.” Hands against my face, he kneads my cheeks in an attempt to tease me. “Guess I’ll have to punish you by spoiling you nonstop.”

“Don’t you dare!” I hiss.

The smirk slowly fades. “I’d do anything for you, _____. Please don’t leave me again.”

My fists clench at the fabric on his shoulders. Since I met this man, I’ve wanted nothing more than to be with him, but I’ve spent equally as long trying to protect him from the consequences of that relationship. Now he’s swept them all off the table, begging me to stay.

“Okay.”

Instantly, he’s got me in a crushing hug. “Thank god.”

Giving in to everything I’ve dreamt of, I pull away so I can get at his lips. The fire ignites in my chest and I know I’ll never get enough. But Jumin quickly takes the reigns and slows my desperate attempt to make up for lost time. Each kiss is almost-torturously slow; he does so purposefully, trying to convey just what this means to him, showing me that he means every word he said earlier. The pace also gives me a chance to memorize the feel of his lips against mine; smooth with a slight chill, tempting me to taste. Within moments, every worry, fear, and even the desperation at the start of this make out is quelled to safe, fully-content, blissful love.

Breaking this kiss, Jumin looks to me, pure joy in his eyes. “I love you.”

I don’t know if I could ever be happier. “I love you too.”

“Are you crying again?”

“Shut up.”

#jumin han #jumin x reader #jumin han x mc #jumin han x reader #jumin x mc #mysme #mysme jumin #mystic messenger #fem!reader

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dragonsaphirareads · 4 years

Text

Soaking in the Sunlight

Day 22 of @tsshipmonth2020 Fluffuary

Ship: Dukeceition

AU: Canonverse

Word Count: 1145

Summary: The dark side of the mind is cold and depressing. The darkness creeps into every corner, sapping the strength and will from those who live there. They aren’t welcome in the light, but even so, they still sometimes find their own little pocket of happiness.

(Like listening to podfics? You can listen to this oneshot on my YT channel here!)

Remus stepped back, brushing his hands off as he surveyed his handiwork and smiled to himself. Everything was perfect - now he just had to get his boyfriends here without making them suspicious!

...Which would be a problem, because they never came into the Imagination with him.

He didn’t blame them. His normal creations were wild, and he usually only had partial control over what they did. Both Deceit and Obsession didn’t appreciate the adrenaline rush of having to run for your life from your own creation.

Maybe he could bring them in under the guise of complaining about something his brother had done? Roman had never crossed the line between their sides, but maybe it could be believable?

No, that would never work. Ernest would see right through him if he tried to lie to his face. He had to come up with something that was technically true, so Ernest wouldn’t catch him.

Remus sighed, groaning. He was no good at keeping secrets, but he really wanted to surprise his boyfriends with something nice. He’d spent an entire week in the Imagination working on it, and the only reason he hadn’t been caught yet is because by the time he came back out, the other two were tired and didn’t ask any questions.

But he wouldn’t hold up to any kind of questioning. He would just teleport both of them to the spot and skip all the excuses and fluff, but the only way into the Imagination was through the doors in either his or Roman’s rooms.

And his “doorway” was a giant hole in his floor that you had to fall into.

“Argh, why do I have to be so bad at lying!?” Remus shouted into the air, tangling his fingers in his hair in frustration. He just wanted to do something nice, why was it so stressful?!

“Remus? What’s wrong?”

Remus jumped at the familiar voice, and he spun around to see both Ernest and Otto standing there, looking around the clearing.

“I... I--! You’re not supposed to be here yet!” Remus shouted, running over to them and trying to shove them out. “I’m supposed to come get you and bring you here and surprise you! Why are you here?!”

Otto raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been busy in here all week, and you didn’t tell us what you were doing, which is weird for you.”

“Normally you’ll tell us every little gorey detail, even when we don’t necessarily want to hear it.” Ernest teased, his eyes brushing past Remus and taking in the scene around him. “This is impressive... much different than what you normally go for, Remus... what’s the occasion?”

Remus deflated, pouting as he refused to look at either of them. “It was supposed to be a surprise! And you ruined it!”

Otto put a hand on his shoulder. “Aww, c’mon Remus, don’t be like that! We are surprised - like E said, this isn’t anything like what you normally do!”

“But I was supposed to come find you! I was supposed to bring you in here thinking I was going to show you something else and then - bam! We were gonna be here, and you’d say “Wow, it’s so romantic!” and... and...”

He crossed his arms, pulling away from Otto’s hand. Behind his back, Otto and Ernest shared a worried look.

“Remus... have you been talking to your brother recently?”

Remus’s shoulders tensed, and he screwed his mouth shut, knowing it didn’t matter what he answered at this point. Ernest sighed, coming forward and spinning Remus gently, holding him by the elbows.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Otto came forward as well, wrapping his arms around Remus’s waist and setting his chin on his shoulder. “Did he tell you all about how to woo us with the perfect picnic date?”

“And more specifically, what not to do?” Ernest added.

“I just wanted to make sure you guys liked it... I’m not good at romantic shit, so I went to the person who is...” Remus grumbled.

“Remus...” they both sighed, and Remus felt terrible. He’d ruined their date before he’d even done anything! He was so bad at romance, it was a miracle he’d kept them for this long!

“If we wanted to be wooed by Roman, don’t you think we’d be with Roman?” Otto spoke next to his ear, kissing his cheek. Ernest nodded, working Remus’s arms apart to intertwine their fingers.

“Don’t misunderstand, we appreciate everything you’ve done here. This area is beautiful, and I can tell how much work you put into it.”

Otto nodded. “Right! But, Remus, we’re with you because we love you, and how you do things! To be honest, Roman’s brand of romance is way too sweet for me. I think I’d get cavities if I had to deal with him every day.”

“Agreed. He’s so predictable with his approach, I would get bored within two seconds!”

Remus looked between the two of them, a hesitant smile growing on his face. “Are... you two serious?”

“Of course we are! Now c’mon, why don’t you show us what you’ve been working on this whole week!” Otto insisted, looking over at the black and green picnic blanket and the big basket sitting on top of the grass.

“We’re sorry for spoiling your surprise, Remus.” Ernest apologized, brushing his knuckles down Remus’s cheek.

The creative side shook his head, now with a full smile beaming from his face as he quickly kissed both of them before grabbing each of their hands and leading them to the blanket.

They ate the lunch Remus had packed, which was a treat for the dark sides since their side of the mind didn’t spawn food in their cupboards like it did for the others. Remus didn’t mind that he owed Roman a favor for it, because the smiles on his boyfriends faces were well worth it.

After they ate, they laid down on the blanket together, a tangle of limbs with Ernest in the middle as they watched the clouds pass. The sky was dark gray with a tinge of green, and the clouds were pure black, but that didn’t seem to phase either of his boyfriends.

He started to wonder why he had asked Roman for help in the first place. Aside from the food, there wasn’t anything about the date that he couldn’t have done on his own!

Remus snuggled closer to Ernest, who had fallen asleep in the warmth of the Imagination. Across from him, Otto reached for his hand and locked their fingers together, resting on Ernest’s chest.

“Love you both...” Remus mumbled. Otto hummed back, squeezing his hand in return.

“I love you too, Rem. Thank you for doing this... even if we did ruin it at the end.”

Remus shook his head. “No... you made it perfect.”

#dukeceition #remus sanders #deceit sanders #obsession sanders #deceit x remus x obsession #sanders sides #tsshipmonth2020 #saphira writes ts #saphira writes

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kimmyiewrites · 4 years

Text

Wasted ~ Chpt 7

Catch Up Masterlist

The next night, Frank came back home from the marina, pissed. Cullen had just told him about the deal that Evelyn's lawyer offered up. He didn't want Mary to go into a foster home, let alone put her through all of this again when she turned 12. The door slammed, surprisingly not waking up Mary even if it startled Ryn.

She looked up from where she was sitting on the couch, sketching. Some of the stories Mary had told her about the sandbars, Freddy, and the sandpipers sparked some inspiration. Frank paid her no mind as he stalked into his bedroom. Ryn laid her sketchbook and pencil down next to her and closed the door behind her once she was just inside the room. There Frank was, pacing, hands in his hair as he thought about the deal he had to make a decision on.

"What happened?" She asked, stopping him in his tracks, his back towards Ryn.

His hands went down to his hips and he took a deep breath. "I'm gonna lose her. Cullen brought me this deal Evelyn offered and he likes it because the foster family is in Tampa so she's only 30 minutes away from me. Cullen likes it so much because he thinks the judge is going to side with that woman."

"Is there anything else that we can do?"

Frank shook his head. "I can meet the family tomorrow before giving my final answer." He turned around, tears making his eyes glassy. "Will you come with me?" He hated everything about this but if he had Ryn by his side then maybe it wouldn't be so terrible.

Ryn immediately went over to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. "Of course."

The house backed up to the intercoastal waterway that led to the open bay waters. A long pier was built over the marshland, connecting the inlet water and the backyard that was taken up mostly by a pool. Ryn had her arm looped around Frank's as they took in the view, both silent as they listened to the foster family try to sell themselves on being the best fit.

The family had added a desk in a small nook near the back door, already decorated with all things pink and a large pink and white polka dotted M by some office supplies. Both Ryn and Frank remained silent as they walked through the house. It was a nice house, there was no doubt about that. She would even get to have her own room and sadly Ryn was starting to see Mary playing in it with Fred and jumping on the bed.

The image soon shifted to what it would look like if Ryn would turn the second room in her condo back into a bedroom instead of a home studio. The family life she could have had if she didn't tell Frank to leave. She truly hated that she was never an option because nothing formal had ever been done with her title as godmother. She felt like she was breaking her promise to Diane even more so than the morning she found out that Frank had left without her.

"So while I'm trying to sell you on the house, and us, I just don't want you to think that we are completely insensitive to what you're feeling." The woman said to the both of them.

Frank looked at the people who would be taking in Mary. He didn't like it but he also didn't want to drag this fight out any further. He didn't want to hurt Mary for longer than was necessary even if letting her go would break both of their hearts. They seemed like good people and they even had a piano which Mary had been going on about for some time now, about how she wanted one and then about how Evelyn had one. He then looked to Ryn, searching for what she thought.

She gave a small nod as she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

With her answer, he turned back to the couple, letting out a sigh. "Are you guys going to be okay with a cat?"

"Absolutely." The wife said with a smile.

"Then, thank you for your time and I appreciate what you're doing." Frank said, holding out his hand.

Ryn had stayed home with Mary during that court date. She did her best to keep the girl happy and not letting on to what was going to happen. Frank wanted to be the one to let her know.

When Frank returned from the courthouse, he immediately changed from his suit and asked Ryn to take her over to Roberta's so he could pack her bag and get Fred situated. He couldn't tell her just yet. Just as everything was settled into the truck, Ryn walked Mary back over. "Are we going somewhere?" The young girl asked her uncle.

"Yeah, for a small road trip. Fred's even coming with us." Frank answered.

Ryn squatted down and held out her arms. "Give me a hug before you go. I'm not sure if I'll still be here when you get back or not."

Mary took Ryn's hands into hers and shook them. "Aunt Ryn, no. Why don't you come with us? You don't have to go."

The older woman squeezed the young girl's hands, trying so very hard not to cry. "I gotta get back to Boston, sweet pea, or my manager will come down here and drag me back. I'm gonna come and visit you soon though. Now that I know where you are, you'll get tired of seeing me." She then pulled Mary in for a bear hug, tickling her sides a bit.

Mary laughed as she squirmed but Ryn held the girl close. She stopped after a few moments and just held her goddaughter. "I love you so much, my sweet girl. Don't you ever forget it."

"I love you too, Aunt Ryn. I'm gonna miss you, though."

"I'm gonna miss you too. I'll be back before you know it." Ryn pressed a kiss to Mary's head as she pulled back, trying to keep it together.

Frank helped Ryn stand as Mary got into the truck. "Can you stay at least until I get back?"

She nodded. "I got a late night ticket, figured I'd need to stay for a little longer no matter the verdict."

He pulled her into a bone crushing hug, burying his face briefly in her neck. "I honestly don't know how I've survived without you."

"Me neither." She let out a watery chuckle.

He placed a kiss to her cheek before pulling away and getting into his truck. He was about to do one of the hardest things he would ever do in his entire life.

Leaving her was no easy task. He had told her what was happening on the drive there and that's when she started arguing with him. She even brought in Ryn and he couldn't even get upset with her. She was a smart girl and she was trying to use everything she knew to try and get out of it. Then they got to the house and he was telling her goodbye and it was everything he had in him not to cry in front of her. She begged and begged for him not to leave her and it was the most helpless he had ever felt.

When he returned home, he saw Ryn packing her bag and he just couldn't take it anymore. He could at least stop this from happening and that's what he was going to do. He took the pair of pants she was folding up to put inside and tossed it before spinning her around and pulling her into his chest.

"Frank, what the hell?" She said, startled by the sudden movements until she felt the tears against her skin.

"I can't lose you today too. Please don't go. Stay with me. Please, just stay with me, by my side, where you've belonged since day one. I can't lose you, Ryn. I just can't. I've already lost Mary. I can't lose you too." He cried.

Ryn held onto him tightly, tears streaming down her face. The weight of everything crashing down on her. Mary was truly gone, living with foster parents when the two people who loved that little girl as their own were perfectly capable for caring for her. Then the fact that Frank was so torn up about it. And of course lastly, Frank finally said something she had waited so long to hear.

They had an arrangement in Boston. It started after they both had graduated from college and after Ryn had struck out from finding someone at the bar to take home. She had made a joke about how Frank had been the only decent guy at the bar and the morning after they knew what sex with their best friend was like. Then started the booty calls when neither one of them could find someone else. When they started teaching at the same college Frank began ruining the frat boys' fantasies. Then without the other one knowing, they became the only person they slept with. Ryn had some space at Frank's apartment and vise versa. They practically became a couple under the guise of being friends with benefits. They took on Mary with ease until Frank left and Ryn didn't know what to think anymore.

Now he was asking her to stay, telling her that she was needed. She couldn't say no to him. Never really could. She just wasn't sure if he was asking her to stay a few extra days or forever. "I'll need to make a few calls but I'll stay, however long you need."

He pulled her closer, relieved that she was staying. Then the last part of her agreement hit him. He pulled back, moving his hands up to cup either side of her face. His thumbs wiped away her tears as his continued to silently fall. "Ryn, I should have done this the second I knew I was leaving for Florida. I need you to stay with me always. I'll help you settle anything you need to do back home but I want you here with me. I'll even help you look for another studio space here. I love you, Ryn, and I never want to let you go again."

Well, that was all the answer she needed. She certainly hadn't expected it since Frank typically kept emotions close to his chest but with the feel of his calloused thumbs on her cheeks and the way his blue eyes seemed to be even bluer. How could she not tell him how she's felt about him for the longest time? "I love you too, Frank. I'm not going anywhere."

They smiled at each other before Frank dipped his head down to capture her lips with his. It was the first time they truly kissed after they had been reunited. It was as if years hadn't passed since the last time they did this. Ryn brought her arms up to wrap around his shoulders as she arched into him.

She was the one that had deepened the kiss but he was the one that pushed her bag off the bed so they could both tumble onto it. They needed each other, needed the comfort of the familiarity while they were mourning the loss of custody.

#frank adler fic #frank adler imagine #gifted fic #frank adler #wasted #frank x ryn #kim writes things #this is my queue song

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arcadiasarchives · 4 years

Text

The Price of Memory

It was strange sitting around with my friends after everything. The old pub we’d practically lived in since university still looked exactly the same. The booth we always commandeered no matter how packed the place was still had the little sign with ‘reserved’ written in red that the owner had put up when we became her best customers. The table was still stained, and in one place burned where the girls had tried a little experiment that had gone about as well as could be expected. My friends were all still the same, still did the stupid, endearing, infuriating things they always had done and probably always would. But then why would they be different. We all promised ourselves that nothing would be different when everything started and nothing had happened to change that. Not really. But then there was something different wasn’t there. I was what was different. Because they thought that I had forgotten, but I remember. Everything

I remember the beginning, the magic and the secrets we all kept. I remember the adrenaline and the happiness of being part of something no matter how dangerous it could be. I remember the darkness, the battles, the war. But I’m not supposed to, I remember that as well. It feels terrible, continuing the charade when they’re all so obviously worried about me. Even grumpy old Samael makes a special trip every so often to discreetly see if I’m doing any better. Under the guise of dropping off forgotten homework or chasing up missing papers.

It’s hard for the others to get me up to the university to see him for secretive check-ups as I’m not taking ‘night classes’ like they are. Of course, his magic, sneaky as he thinks it is, hasn’t picked up on anything because there’s nothing there to find.

No old spells were hindering my memory. No brain damage. No curses or spirits or any such thing. No just good old fashioned threats and violence. It was amazing how well those things still worked. A little shocking that a man with so much power at his fingertips would resort to that but he’d always seemed like a traditional sort of guy. So here I am sitting in the corner while Jax and Kieran try to discreetly have an argument at the other end of the table about how to deal with a lich. Alice is doing her best to talk over them, telling me about this really weird thing that happened at the bookshop today. It’s interesting but I’m sure the real story is even better, the way she trails off in places and has to think for a second means it’s having all the magic cut out of it for my benefit. But that’s the price I pay to keep them safe. Or at least safer. I know that Adrian didn’t get hit by a car while crossing the street and that Maya didn’t burn her hands while cooking. But I can’t keep them safe from everything. Not with what they stick their noses into all the time and at least this way there’s no big bad waiting around every corner. Just every other corner.

Nicolai, Seth, and Grace come in looking more than a little worse for wear just as Alice is about to tell the boys to fuck off. I can tell because she always gets this really annoyed look right before she says it. They were getting a bit too loud to ignore and I was going to have to ask what they were on about soon. I don’t like doing it but I can only pretend to be so oblivious for so long before they start to realize it’s deliberate. They don’t come over to the table and my heart skips a beat as Jax goes over to talk to them. This can’t be good, it’s never good, and I feel myself crossing my fingers under the table. I never believed in luck, still don’t most of the time, but I’ve started testing it every once in a while just in case.

“Hey, apparently Samael’s had to move our lecture so we’re going to have to leave now if we all want to be able to get our stuff.” Jax is looking at me apologetically, it was after all the first night we’d all been supposed to hang out for ages. “I’m sorry man.”

“It’s fine, you can’t control your classes.” I smiled as Alice got up, ruffling my hair as she did. Samael rearranging lectures was code for, information possible fight, so not something to be too worried about but my stomach was still twisting at the thought.

“We’ll do it tomorrow or the day after, promise.” She said as she headed around the table to grab her coat, the others all nodding enthusiastically.

“I’ll hold you to that.” I wonder if my cheer sounds as fake to them as it does to my own ears. If it does they don’t say anything and I watch them go, ignoring the way my stomach twists at the thought that this could very well be the time one of them doesn’t come back.

My ginger beer is looking a lot less appealing now. The bubbles popping every so often reminding me how fragile everything was. How fragile life was. My friends lives. Well, there goes my resolution to stop drinking. Alice and Adrian are going to be disappointed in me. They're so happy I’ve stopped drinking they haven’t even asked about it. Which is good because I haven’t come up with a suitable reason and as much as they love me none of them are going to buy any of the generic shit people offer up. Me my reason is based purely on logic. When I’m drunk I can’t always control my brain. If I don’t have control over my brain I might say or do something that gives me away. So now I only drink when I’m alone, which is pretty sad, but even that’s a rare thing. Tonight is just going to be one of those rare things. I’ll be sober long before I see anyone.

“When exactly are you going to stop all of this nonsense?”

Looking up from what is probably only my third glass of whiskey I find Maggie with her hands on her hips giving me one of those looks. The looks reserved for people who cross her or people who need a life lesson taught to them. I’ve been on the receiving end of that look before, for both reasons, but I can’t think why I’d warrant it now.

“Huh?”

Definitely not one of my more eloquent replies but it’s my first time drinking in awhile my brain’s a little sluggish.

“You heard me young man. It’s not nice what you’re doing to them.” She reprimanded as she sat across from me.

I don’t think my blood has ever run cold so fast in my entire life. And that’s including the time I accidentally came face to face with a hell hound. Coincidentally it was also the first time I came face to face with a hell hound which certainly didn’t really help matters. Hey on the plus side I was more or less sober already.

“I’m sorry what.” The look she gave me could have melted stone and I immediately raised my hands in surrender. Maggie was not someone you wanted mad at you. “Sorry sorry I just...”

Her face softened as I tried desperately to figure out what to say. She couldn’t know what was going on. For starters, she had no idea all the weird shit we’d gotten into. If she had noticed something it probably came off as some sort of cruel game I’m playing at the expense of my friends. The thought alone makes me want to vomit.

“Sweetheart sometimes I wonder what on earth made Samael pick you lot.”

Okay, that was weird, she shouldn’t know Samael, there was no reason for her to know Samael any better than she knew us. Certainly no reason for that highly accurate comment. Maybe I’ve already drunk too much. If my tolerance for alcohol is that low my life really is shit. Maggie shakes her head like she does when she catches people showing off around her bar. It’s that disappointed mother face with a hint of challenge in it that no one has ever dared counter. I’m certainly not about to start.

“How do you think Samael finds gifted people with potential. It’s hardly like he goes out to find them is it.”

And oh, oh, that makes a lot of sense. The reserved sign had gone up not long after Samael began tutoring Kieran, Grace, and Ace in the arts of magic. It had been a little while before any of the rest of us learned or joined but yeah it would have been around the same time. I reached for my drink though not completely convinced more alcohol was the answer. So many little things I’d noticed over the years began to take on a whole new life. The fact that the cold hardwood chairs and benches had suddenly been replaced with padded ones just after Alice and Alec spent the night being thrown through walls. No one ever noticing when one of us looked like death. Ace being barred. I quickly turned away from that last thought and back to the matter at hand.

“Have you told Samael?” Which was definitely my more pressing concern because not only did I have no way of explaining this without giving myself away his brain would immediately jump to the worst possible conclusion.

“Of course not,” Maggie said with a rather put upon air, like it was completely obvious she wouldn’t tell him. Considering she’d told me not a minute ago that she was the reason he’d picked us out I think she could have cut me a little slack. “I’m sure you have reasons. Very good reasons in fact.”

“Yeah.”

Now she’s looking at me expectantly and I know she wants me to tell her. I shouldn’t, it’s too dangerous it could ruin everything. But at the same time, I want to. I need advice, need to know what to do because there’s no way I can keep this up forever. Besides short of a complete stranger I can’t think of anyone better to tell. If she’s telling the truth no one knows about her, I doubt anyone even suspects, and if she hasn’t told Samael yet she’s hardly going to now. But it all boils down to that doesn’t it, if she’s telling the truth. Because if she’s not that means she’s one of Kyle’s which is going to ruin everything. I really really hate my life sometimes, and to think everything had been going great just a few months ago. Of course, this is Maggie so if I don’t tell her she’s going to get it out of me somehow. Besides I want to trust her.

It doesn’t take nearly as long as I ever thought it would, but still long enough that I know it’s the right thing for me even though I regret it just a little. Maggie looks sympathetic, her hand resting on mine and it’s one of the most comforting feelings. I trail off about not knowing what to do and finish what is now my fifth whiskey wondering where I can go to get more if this ends really badly.

“I’m so proud of you Xander, I know none of this can be easy.” She smiles at the little noise I make though even I don’t know whether or not it’s agreement. “But I think the best thing right now is to tell Samael.” Panic must have shown on my face because she immediately raised her hand to stop my protests. “Not the others, just Samael. Think we can manage that? It’s alright to say no.”

I think about it for a moment my head already beginning to nod. Samael will know what to do. Samael always has an answer.

“Yeah, I think we can manage that.”

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not-close-to-straight · 7 years

Text

“Buried” (Chapter Eight)

Welcome Back! So this chapter is rough. Tempers are short and our boys have their first real argument and it gets ugly. Fortunately, it's also the first time they are both open and honest with each other afterwards. Shitty fight=big step forward for them!

ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS HERE

It feels weird to say “Enjoy” for this chapter so um… buckle up?

**************

Day Three in the Forest

The day was shit.

Tony's feet hurt, and his back hurt and his legs hurt and Jesus Christ the bug spray had stopped working almost immediately after putting it on and he was sure he was bit half way to hell.

Another night crammed in a one man tent with Steve-- okay, no, actually that hadn't been all that bad, and Tony's lips lifted in a reluctant smile remembering the feel of Steve’s beard against his skin. Not that he was into beards at all. Not at all. And even after his pseudo bath in the river the day before, they were still two grown men in the middle of a jungle sweating through layers of clothing and ineffective bug spray, so they didn't smell good at all. Not at all. And yet, Tony hadn't thought to complain as they lay pressed up against each other, trying to touch as little as possible but neither one moving away when they did. He hadn't wanted to say anything when Steve ended up wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

And when he had woken up and felt Steve, hard and thick, digging into him-- well, it hadn't even crossed his mind to complain about that. Not at all.

Alright, so that wasn't all that terrible, but the rest of the day was shit.

They were both cranky and irritable and needing a break from each other and from hiking and the constant stress of looking over their shoulders every three seconds and avoiding the water. They kept switching between eye-stripping each other and then getting under each others skin with thinly veiled insults, and then something would switch all over again and Steve would be looking at him with something beautiful and terrifying in those dark blue eyes and Tony would be stammering and looking away and searching for something sarcastic to change the moment.

The terrain had been gradually getting steeper as the day went on and Tony remembered with a groan the mountain that he could always barely see from camp. Not a huge mountain by any stretch of the imagination, more of a large hill, but after three days on their feet and smaller than usual portions of food and water as well as the added stress of just being around each other, each step seemed like a marathon and by the time they broke for lunch, Tony's temper was near breaking as well.

He kept telling himself that Steve's feet hurt way worse than his, that Steve was carrying a bigger bag than him, that Steve was stressed out being the one carrying the guns but--but-- damn it Tony was exhausted.

“Right here. Let’s break right here.” were the first words Steve had said all day, dropping his pack and basically collapsing on to the ground, his back against a tree. “Not too long though, we’ve got to get up and over this mountain if we want to make the village by tomorrow. Too risky to get to the river at all, so conserve your water.”

“Wonderful.” Tony slumped down against his own tree and pulled the last of his protein bars from his bag. “More mountain climbing, no river to at least look at, just miles of green. I've never hated this color so much in my life.”

Steve made an agreeable grunt as he ate his own bit of food, and they sat in silence again for the few moments they had of rest.

“Will you tell me--” Tony swallowed and took a quick sip. “The students that died? Did you know them?”

“Yeah.” Steve said shortly, pouring a little water in his hands to smooth down his hair and rubbing irritably at his beard.

“Who were they?” Tony asked, bracing himself to hear their names. It had been bugging him the entire time, seeing their bodies and not knowing their names. When he got back to New York he was going to personally pay to get them home and laid to rest because no one deserved to--

“It doesn't matter.” Steve shrugged and Tony's mouth dropped.

“It doesn't matter? It absolutely matters who they were!”

“It really doesn't.” Steve crumpled up his trash, tucking it carefully in a pouch so they didn't leave any trace of being there. “Leave it alone.”

“Are you serious?” Tony's voice rose and Steve sent him an annoyed look. “Steve, they are people. How can you say it doesn't matter?”

“They were people, Tony. They aren't anymore. What good would knowing their names do for you besides stress you out? Leave it alone.”

“Jesus.” Tony swore and jumped to his feet. “Look at you. Students-- young people-- died because of some asshole you trusted and you’re saying they aren't people? They deserve to be remembered, damn it. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you that heartless? All these years as a mercenary just ruined you, huh?”

“You’re tired and emotional.” Steve waved him off. “We aren't talking about this right now.”

“Tired and emotional.” Tony repeated. “No. No, I want you to tell me right now why you don't think those kids deserve to be named. Why would you even say something like---”

“Because I've seen people die. Lots and lots of people die, over and over, Tony.” Steve shook his head. “And remembering their names didn't do anything except give me nightmares. I’ve seen way too much to try and put a name to every face. Once they are gone, they are just gone. And if I see it any other way then I can't do my job. They are just bodies.”

“Man.” Tony stared at him. “You make a great mercenary, don't you, Captain?”

Dark blue eyes flashed with something unreadable. “Yeah, I really do.”

****************************

“Why are you even back here?” Tony broke the silence again, after they had been hiking for some time. “I mean honestly, how the hell did you and I end up back in this camp at the exact same time?”

“Well.” Steve took a deep breath and tried to keep the leftover annoyance from earlier out of his voice. “Commander Barnes-- Bucky-- is one of my best friends. He runs this security detail and when work came up in South America, he remembered that I had spent some time here and called me to see if I wanted the job.” He paused on the trail, turning to look at Tony. “I have good memories here for the most part, and didn't want to miss the chance to come back.”

“So you what… do the mercenary thing and then moonlight as an archeologist during the summer?” Tony gestured around them. “Or are you a tour guide? Maybe a Boy Scout leader? You seem to have the whole ‘always be prepared’ thing down. Am I just missing your cute little sash with all your buttons?

“Actually, after that first summer, I went back to New York and got my degree like I'd been planning to. So I actually teach world history and then do the… security things as a side job. I'm not a mercenary Tony, it's not like I sneak into countries and kill generals or poison diplomats.”

“Sure, but you’re still a hired gun, right? Still a lethal fighting machine trained by the good old US military and then set loose to use all those skills under the guise of being a security guard? Sounds like a mercenary to me.”

“Stop.” Steve was irritated now. “I am a teacher, Tony. I teach world history and read a lot in my spare time and try to travel around as much as I can. Working with Bucky…when he needs my help I show up. That's it.”

“You're a teacher?” That got Tony's attention, and he sent Steve an incredulous look before bursting in laughter. “You're a teacher. Like you teach history, and then run around at dig sites with a gun in your free time? Are you serious.”

Steve frowned. “I don't understand why that's so funny. And I told you, the security thing isn’t a full time--”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You're Indiana Jones. That's who you are. You got pretty girls in class trying to flirt with you? You got a whip? What about a dingy brown hat? Is the Holy Grail actually that ugly brown cup? I mean damn Captain, you’re practically a character from a shitty action movie.”

“I teach high school.” Steve's blue eyes narrowed. “If my students flirt with me, I'm not paying attention to it. And no, Tony, I don't have a whip, but it wouldn't surprise me that you're into that sort of thing, considering how open you are to everything else along those lines.”

“Sorry, what did you say?” Tony's jaw clenched, and just like, anything that resembled anything pleasant between them was gone. “Why the hell would you say that? Where do you even get off thinking I am into---”

“Oh come on.” Steve scoffed. “Don't look so surprised. You can't walk past a newsstand these days without seeing another tabloid with Tony Stark splashed across the front page involved in some orgy or drug bust or whatever. I might be Indiana Jones but all you do is figure out some way to make the headlines doing whatever it is you do for attention.”

“For attention?” Tony nearly yelled, then backed up several steps, dragging his fingers through his hair in agitation. “You think I did all that--all that crap that ended up on the front pages? You think it was for attention?”

“Why else? Why else would you try to be on tabloids?” Steve folded his arms. “Why else would you want the world knowing-- what was the last good headline? Tony Stark prefers his redheads in pairs?”

“Shut up!” Tony shouted. “I was grieving! I lost both my parents in a three month span! You don't think I deserved to blow off some steam?”

“Plenty of people blow off steam without making the five o clock news!” Steve shot back.

“Yeah well those people aren't me, are they?” Tony was seething. “And since you seem to be so interested in my headlines, you’ll know that I haven't done anything like that in ages.”

“Yeah, that last DUI must have really got your attention.” Steve retorted. “Congratulations. You haven't seen the inside of a jail cell in months.”

“I don't have to listen to this from you.” Tony dragged a hand through his hair. “God dammit.” He pushed around Steve and stalked up the trail. “Fuck you.”

********************

Tony didn't stop again, pushing through the woods, up the increasingly steep mountain until it finally tapered off, and then started sloping downwards again.

Steve tried to get his attention to signal for a break, but Tony ignored him and kept right on walking, determined to get as far as possible before breaking for the night.

Steve kept his eyes trained on Tony's back, and didn't say another word.

*******************

They couldn't risk a fire that night, being within several miles of the village and probably within several miles of Brock’s team, so they sat in the dark in a thick patch of trees as the stars came out.

“I'm sorry about your parents, Tony. I didn't mean to sound like I didn't care.” Steve muttered. “I heard about your mom first, and your dad of course was all over the newspapers. I'm sorry. I can't imagine how difficult that was--and has been-- for you.”

“Don't do that. Don't try to make nice after being an asshole.” Tony's voice sounded hoarse, and Steve knew that he had been crying.

“Tony, I've been trying to apologize for every mean thing I've said for days now. We established that we don't know how to talk to each other, and I keep opening my mouth and ruining things and I keep saying I'm sorry and---”

“And it hasn't stopped you from saying those things, has it?” Tony bit out. “Apologies don't mean a whole lot after a while if you keep doing the same shit. Especially if the apologies aren't the right ones.”

“What do you mean the right ones?” Steve asked, but he already knew which apologies they both needed to be saying. But maybe if Tony said it, if he was the first to bring up everything they weren’t talking about… maybe they could talk about it and get it out into the open.

Steve was a coward when it came to this, and he knew it. Tony had already broken his heart once, opening up to talk about--about everything, to apologize-- Steve didn't know if he could do that, if he could be the one to start that all. He wished he could, but he knew he couldn't.

He just...wasn't strong enough for that. Not strong enough to get his heart broken again.

So he asked, “What do you mean the right ones?”

“Nevermind.” was all Tony said, and silence fell again.

Then, “I'm sorry I called you heartless. I actually have no idea what it's like to see people die the way you have. I just-- I just want to make sure those kids are taken care of when this is all said and done. You’re not… heartless. I know it's a way to cope, not seeing bodies as people. I get it. I mean, I don't get it, but I understand the reasoning.”

“I know you do, Tony. I'm sorry I was so abrupt about it. You didn't deserve to be snapped at about that. Um, the kids... they were Robbie and Deanna.” Steve sighed. “Robbie was nineteen, Deanna was twenty. They were the only ones left at camp besides Melissa and part of my team.”

“Thank you. That helps. Now they aren't just...bodies I keep seeing in my head.” Tony glanced over at their one man tent. “Um, you said the names give you nightmares? You get them often? I mean, have you had any since-- since the camp got shot up? Is it like a PTSD thing, or just flashbacks?”

“I don't get nightmares so much anymore. They used to be really bad, every night. I couldn't sleep.”

“After the war?”

“Yeah.” Steve tossed a pebble into the bushes, barely able to make out where Tony was looking towards the tent. “Do I keep you awake with them?”

“No. I never notice. Is there um, anything in particular that you dream about or--?”

Steve stared into the dark for a long time, long enough that Tony thought maybe he wasn't going to answer. “Azhara and Amir.” he said finally. “Mother and son. Young. I cleared a building of civilians, and we went in after the insurgents and they were caught in the cross fire. Everyone said it wasn't my fault, that I couldn't have possibly known they were there hiding but it doesn’t matter. Their names… haunt me. I never should have asked for them, but I felt so guilty I couldn't help myself. I went to their funeral, I just wanted to give their memory some dignity. All I got for it was nightmares. I see their faces and hear their names and it all just… haunts me.”

“I'm sorry.” Tony whispered and Steve nodded.

“I'm sorry too.”

“I mean I'm sorry for--- for all of that. For what I said earlier too.”

“Yeah, Tony. I'm sorry too. Just… really, awfully sorry. About everything. I had no right to talk to you the way I did and--and I'm just sorry. Sometimes it seems like I open my mouth and shit just pours out.”

“Yeah.” Tony popped his knuckles. “Well, I feel the same way. Like sometimes I couldn't be nice to you if I tried. Just too much between us. Makes everything a little more--”

“Loaded.” Steve finished. “Like there's some sort of double meaning behind every word.”

“Exactly.”

Steve yawned and dragged a hand down his face. “Let's go to bed. We’ve said enough crappy things to each other for one day, lets get some rest and try it again tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Tony crawled into the tent after Steve, laying on his side, his arm under his head as a pillow as he tried to get comfortable. “Good night.”

“Good night, Tony.”

***************

“Steve.”

“For the love of god, Tony. We have to be up as soon as the sun rises and you want to talk?”

“You said the nightmares were worse after the war. But when we were at the site together back then, I never noticed them.”

“That's because the nights you slept in my bunk I didn't have them.”

“Really?”

“Not ever.”

Tony smiled, and closed his eyes.

********************************

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#ncts fics #stony #tony stark #steve rogers #buried au

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romancevsreality-blog · 6 years

Text

vanderpump rules, season six, episode four: if you get mcdonalds delivered to your house get out of my life

I truly believe this week’s opening song crooner is the worst yet. Imagine Ariana Grande’s voice, but without the passionate depth? Also, it defintely makes the least amount of sense - “When we fall, we never mind, mind, mind?” I FUCKING MIND. As a person who falls a lot - and not even in the charming romantic comedy kind-of-way - I’m reaching the age where if I fall, I’m genuinely concerned for my personal safety. I sprained my tailbone over the summer and ever since then I’m convinced I need a LifeAlert bracelet or else it’s over for me.

We’re at Jax and Brittany’s apartment, and there’s a sleeping dog1 and it’s 12:07 pm. Brittany, Katie Baloney, and Scheana are all just rising for the day. Stassi walks in and cracks a beer, and we learn that the previous night’s Let’s Burn Jax To The Ground Yearbook Signing Party moved its way to Brittany’s apartment and went well into the morning. Katie’s gushing over Tom Schwartz for whatever reason, and Stassi had Taco Bell delivered.

Okay, I don’t get that.

Like, the idea of getting McDonalds or Burger King or any kind of Shame Food delivered to my apartment feels like rock bottom for me. I can’t imagine spending enough money at any of those places to justify having it delivered to me. Then again, I haven’t had Taco Bell since I left Detroit, so. Maybe there’s just something I’m missing?

Scheana asks Brittany if she’s still joining her and Lala on a private jet to Vegas. We never get a response because Katie feels the need to get all sanctimonious about Lala’s “sugar daddy married boyfriend”. He’s not married, they’re separated, and Katie still can’t shut her damn mouth about Lala. I just can’t imagine being the kind of person who’d get upset when someone spreads their generosity around. Who cares how Lala got the private jet? She asked Scheana and Brittany to join her, and that’s nice.

Can we go back to not having Katie on our screens again? It’s bad enough that her turtle glasses match her leopard/turtle wristlet tattoo

Oh, hello, Villa Rosa! Hello swans! Hello Toms! Apparently they listened to “Lose Yourself” by Eminem to pump themselves up for this meeting because… okay, honestly, “Lose Yourself” hits hard at a certain time and place, but also these dudes are basically Michael Phelps. I don’t know what would have made me roll my eyes harder, them saying this, or like, A Tribe Called Quest’s “Scenario.”

Who am I kidding - these boys don’t know who A Tribe Called Quest is. Busta Rhymes to them is the guy from The Rugrats Movie soundtrack who did that song with Chris Brown2.

They’re nervous, and Lisa and Ken are lounging, covered in dogs, lying in wait for the Toms. Lisa’s narrating what’s going on between them, and says unless they’re showing some sort of enthusiasm, she’s out. The Toms also happened to have gone pretty hard the night before under the guise of “helping Jax”. When has “helping Jax” ever worked out for anyone?! Needless to say, our boys are hungover. Lisa asked if they got lost between the gate and the house as soon as she sees them. Right now, Lisa’s not feeling the partnership because she’s concerned about their negativity. She wants their commitment - both in emotion and in money. $120,000 for 10% of the restaurant. They’re both hesitant because das a lot of money.

Lisa’s not negotiating, either. Schwartz wants $50,000 each for 5% of the restaurant, and suddenly I wonder why Lisa Vanderpump isn’t on Shark Tank.

CAN I JUST GET THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF SHARK TANK? Imagine: Sonja Morgan pitching her toaster ovens to Kevin O

’Leary, Bethenny, Notorious Billionaire Entrepreneur And Outspoken Owner Of The Dallas Mavericks Mark Cuban, Mauricio Umansky, and Kandi Burruss.

Bravo, give me a call.

Lisa and Ken are okay with that. They’re partners. All Lisa wants is enthusiasm, positivity, and their money. That’s all!

Scheana asks if Jax is ever coming back to the apartment, and as soon as that happens, he walks in and he’s immediately pissed. He’s mad that the girls are there, the house is a mess, people are dying of cancer, he’s mad because he’s 450 years old and he just wants to be in his own home. Jax says Brittany isn’t as devastated as she’s claiming and she’s milking it all for attention, and Brittany flips. Because that’s a fucked up thing to say. You don’t get to hurt people and then criticize how they cope, Jax. You don’t get to hurt people and tell them how to react to you, Jax. You just don’t get to hurt people, Jax. I don’t blame Brittany for trying to kick him out of their apartment. He came in hot and they weren’t doing anything to him except sitting there, breathing. He feels like he’s been ambushed and Stassi’s right when she points out that he’s just pointing fingers at them to deflect blame for his fuck up by lying to her by omission about Faith. He continues to tell her she can’t tell him how to behave in his own house while trying to tell her how to behave in her house and sees zero irony in any of that.

Brittany’s hurt, and she told him how she was going to react to it - she was going to lose her mind and be upset for a while and she didn’t want to talk to him about it. He’s not listening to her. Jax really just doesn’t care about Brittany’s feelings whatsoever - he’s more focused on covering his own ass. He needs the validation that comes from cheating and the validation that no matter how terribly he treats her, his partner will continue to allow this cycle of abuse to continue.

WE GET TO HEAR T.I.P3 while Tom and Tom cruise and celebrate their new partnership. I mean, I just love the idea of someone using their own music as hype music. They’re just hoping they don’t disappoint Lisa Vanderpump, which won’t be hard considering who they are. Sandoval gets a call from Ariana, who is very busy and important so she won’t be able to take time out of her day to leave and have sex with Tom Sandoval. It’s okay, Schwartz is offering Katie up if Sandoval’s interested, and I have never wanted anything less in my entire life.

The Toms return to Katie and Tom’s apartment, where Stassi and Baloney are hanging out. The Toms come in and basically do my favorite thing (no) which is when people have good news and pretend like they have bad news. No one is so on edge that they care as much as you two do about this. Sandoval’s like, “Yeah, it’s a bummer I might not be working at Sexy Unique Restaurant in a few months because we’re OPENING A BAR!!!!!” And Schwartz is just happy that in his thirties someone decided to give him a restaurant. Fairly certain Schwartz has no idea how the world actually operates. Then again, the only job he’s ever had was 90 minutes at PUMP before he had to leave, so.

Katie’s just so happy that Tom seems to be making an investment into the future instead of spending all of their money on video games and differing apparatuses from which to drink beer. Katie’s just happy that the guy she married because he was hot is actually trying to be an adult for the first time in his thirty-something years of existence.

Cool Girl Ariana comes over to Scheana’s apartment, where Scheana is packing for Vegas and I’m pretty sure i have her entire outfit and have worn it relatively recently. I’m a big fan of oversized flannel shirts and like, mini dresses. Ariana asks Scheana what happened in the morning at Jax’s. Ariana’s bummed she missed Brittany taking a swing at Jax, and honestly at this point, he’s so old that a light breeze might knock him over and he’ll shatter into a million cocaine-filled pieces.

Queen Lalar comes over wearing a shirt covered in drawings of her face and my heart swoons. Lalar’s been juicing so her Summer Body is ready for Vegas. They’re taking a private jet provided by Lalar’s boyfriend. I love Lala’s logic as to how she gets on private jets - if you’re not ugly and have tits, you can get on a private jet. I actually can’t understate how true that is. I mean, not speaking from personal experience, but honestly, if I knew someone with a private jet, I don’t think it would be hard to convince them to take me to like, Chicago4. Lala tells Ariana and Scheana she got her job back, and Scheana’s like, “Katie’s talking about your boyfriend again.”

Lala immediately gets heated and starts making fun of Katie because let’s be real - Katie’s not mad that Lala’s boyfriend was separated and started dating a younger girl, Katie’s mad that she married a dude with zero ambition and her looks couldn’t get her an older dude with a jet. Sorry. Katie’s still maintaining the lie about Katie, and Lala’s like, “they all call me a homewrecker and I’m the one being accused of attacking people?” Lala says she’s gonna pop Katie if she continues to talk about it, because she thought they were cool now. And if Katie’s going to go low, so can Lala. She says that Tom Schwartz made out with her friend recently - as in while he was married to Katie5. Apparently when Katie was away in New York at some point, Tom was all over Lala’s friend Allie, calling her “bubba” and being all touchy-feely. Lala was like, “I wasn’t gonna say shit but then she came for me first, so. Who cares if her life is ruined, that’s karma.”6 Ariana basically agrees to talk to Schwartz about it at Guillermo’s birthday.

Stassi’s at Villa Rosa, and Stassi’s running behind for prep for Guillermo’s surprise birthday, and guess what? Event planning is fucking hard. Colin Cowie and David Tutera make it look easy but every step of planning any kind of party (and don’t get me started on weddings) takes fifteen logistical steps to make sure things occur when they should. Oh, you want bows for your chairs? What color? Oh, that color doesn’t come in the fabric you chose. What fabric? Oh, that fabric only fits around certain types of chairs. Nothing about event planning is easy. Event coordination is even harder and I seriously have mad respect for anyone who makes that shit happen. Lisa gives Stassi her black AMEX and basically is like, “use this, don’t get into trouble.”

And then Stassi starts filling up her PrettyLittleThing and Missguided shopping carts.

Jax and Schwartz are at Society Kitchen, and honestly, the only reason that I would ever move to LA is that even their breakfast restaurants serve liquor at like, 8 AM. Also, that menu looks amazing. They order something called “fried guacamole” and Jax shames Schwartz into picking french fries over a side salad. Schwartz acts like he’s never seen anything fried when the fried guacamole comes to the table, and I don’t know - the idea of biting into something brown and it being soft and green on the inside actually makes me kind of nauseous. But then again, I don’t have an orgasm every single time I think of an avocado like some people7.

Jax has been uninvited from working Guillermo’s party because Brittany’s working, too, but Jax, who is the inspiration for the 1938 play Gaslight, which is where the term gaslighting originated, had a chance to talk to her without the bias of her friends, and it seems like they’re at least a bit better now. Schwartz is like, “dude, were you not just about to move out like, two days ago? Give her time.” Honestly, I think if Brittany had moved out, Jax would have been fine with that and fine with them breaking up. He doesn’t want to do any work or put in any external effort, so they’re staying together because he just doesn’t want to deal with the stress of moving.

Schwartz gives the suggestion of a “don’t ask, don’t tell” kind of situation - aka, an open relationship between Brittany and Jax. And honestly, if Jax’s self-esteem wasn’t linked so deeply with his psyche, I would say that would be his ideal situation. But again, he cheats primarily for validation from his partner and from external sources - if you take the “betrayal” part out of it, it’s useless. The appeal is gone if you don’t get the drama or the attention out of it.

Meanwhile, Stassi’s like, “how do people work? Every day? How do they do things?’ Life funded by Instagram Sponsorships sounds great. Getting paid $5k to post a photo? How do I get this life? Stassi’s overwhelmed, but honestly, she seems to do a decent job of delegating. And when you’re event planning, 70% of the job is just pointing and telling people what to do while pretending everything’s okay8. Everyone’s there! Tom! Katie! Kristen! Ariana! Kristen’s weird non-factor boyfriend! Everyone has jackets gently draped over their shoulders because it’s LA, you don’t need an actual coat.

Katie, Kristen, Stassi, and Brittany (who is working, poor thing) are all standing around chatting. Kristen’s been doing this weird thing lately where she just like, fawns over her friends in this really strange, inauthentic way. She’s like, “Brittany, you always look like a Victoria’s Secret model, even when your boyfriend is being a huge fucking asshole.” It’s such a weird thing to say - not that I’m against complimenting people, but it feels so PLEASELIKEMEPLEASELIKEMEINEEDAJOBONTHISSHOWTOAFFORDMYLIFEPLEASEPLEASECAMERATIMEPLEASE. Brittany’s done talking about Jax, at least for the moment, and she wants to work through the entire situation by herself, and when she talks to her friends about it, she gets worked up and emotional and that’s not the easiest way to make decisions.

Again: Brittany is better than these people, and certainly better than me. I’m immensely emotional and very impulsive, and I have a tendency to try to hurt people when I feel they’ve hurt me. I often go to my friends not for advice, but to be a ranting sounding board, and it’s not a great quality. I’m aware of it. I’m working on it. But good for Brittany for being like, “I need to figure this all out on my own, thank you for supporting me in this endeavor.”

Jax meets DJ James Kennedy, LMFAO at some random bar, and the idea of just the two of them hanging out together alone makes me concerned for everyone else in that bar. I feel like just being around each other will create a super-STD. No sexual contact required, just their aromas is enough. I mean, they start with shots of absinthe, and I’m 100% sure none of the preparation shown is how one drinks absinthe. Like, absinthe is both amazing9 and disgusting10 but if not properly prepared it’s basically like drinking Draino. It takes a long time, and it’s a thorough process that literally requires something to DRIP for a while.

But then again these are garbage people with garbage taste so they don’t care, they’re there to get drunk on Pernod.

James takes his shot and it ain’t no thang. Jax takes his shot and I’m genuinely concerned for him becuse he’s 850 years old and 136-proof alcohol could literally kill him. And it basically does, but not enough for my liking. Effectively, Jax is basically Jason Bateman in this scene from Extract11. Old man, can’t keep up.

Back at Sexy Unique Restaurant, Stassi is lighting sparklers and we get another chance to celebrate a public-domain usage of “Happy Birthday”. The cake has edible flowers on it. Eurgh. Guillermo reminds Tom & Tom that it’s them next, and they better not fuck it up.

Ariana takes this moment to take Tom Schwartz aside, and we get the first appearance of my personal favorite location on this show, The Sexy Unique Restaurant Back Alley By The Motorcycles and A Dumpster. Ariana’s like “I’m really dreeeeading talking to you about this,” and meanwhile inside, Katie’s like, “Where’s my HUSBAND?” I literally hate Katie because I know she’s the girl who as soon as she got a ring, she stopped referring to her significant other by his name. No, she wants to make sure you know how special she is so he’s no longer “Tom,” he’s “My Fiance/Husband”. Ariana rips the Band-Aid off quickly and tells Tom that she heard about him making out with someone a few months back.

Tom immediately denies it, or at least is basically like, “Yeah, I don’t remember that night.” We’re reminded of the last time this happened, and that Tom has a track record of just getting blackout drunk and not knowing what he did. And yeah, Jax does it, but Schwartz… has a drinking problem. He drinks to get blacked out, and frequently. He denies his behavior but he also doesn’t remember anything about that night. Ariana’s like, “you need to deal with this. Now.”

Tom compares his drunken self to a werewolf, and it’s like he sees that as a good thing. Even in his talking heads he’s a mess. He looks like he just got out of court-ordered rehab and is going to see his probation officer after being on a bender.

Jax and James are taking snaps together and pretending like they’re wasted on absinthe. With the amount these two drink on a regular basis, they’re not getting wasted on two shots of absinthe. James tries to be like, “you know, absinthe is a hallucinogenic,” and they try to edit it like they’re sOoOoOO oUt Of It~ and it’s not. At least not in America. I wasn’t amused. Meanwhile, Brittany’s been hate-fucking Jax a lot lately, and Jax is fine with that becasue at least someone will still touch his old, craven, decrepit body. Jax basically describes the Madonna/Whore complex in which he wants a sweet, nice girl at home, and a ho in the streets. It’s not deep, Jax. Just because you just learned the word “complex” doesn’t make it deep.

Katie immediately senses that something’s up when Tom and Ariana arrive back at the party, and immediately inquires. Ariana’s like “SHUT. UP. TOM.” and Tom’s literally like, “Yeah, apparently I made out with some girl at a party a few months ago when I was soooooooo wasted.” Even the way he tells it sounds like he doesn’t take cheating on his wife seriously whatsoever. The look on Katie’s face is literally like, “I will stab this man with a cocktail stirrer.” As soon as Katie finds out Lala’s the one who told everyone, she gets upset, of course12.

Katie storms out with Kristen, and Stassi, Ariana, and Brittany chase after her. Stassi’s like, “why is this coming up NOW at my first party ever?” and doesn’t want to believe it considering the source was Lala, but as soon as Kristen says that Tom was the one who brought up the topic in the first place, you see the wheels in Stassi’s brain turning because she was so prepared to rail on Lala. Katie’s like, “What did I do to deserve this?” and I’m literally like, “How long do you have, Kathryn13?” Tom is so drunk when he comes out to talk to Katie, he’s like “don’t cry buuuuubbbbbbbaaaaaa”, and she’s like “What the fuck do you mean, don’t cry?”

Y’all know I try my very hardest to never be on Katie’s side when it comes to pretty much anything, but in this case, I’m on her side. Yes, there’s a part of me that probably knows that they manufactured this storyline because Katie got so much hate on social media that Tom decided to take the bullet for his wife this time, but also - he can’t stop doing this. He literally cannot stop cheating on her. She gives him freedom and he turns around and does this? I’m sure it’s not even about the making out part - it’s the constant embarassment and the fact that Tom cannot take any responsibility for his hand in any of his actions. Yes, you were blackout drunk, and you don’t remember it, but you did something during that time that was hurtful and harmful to someone you love. Why wouldn’t you take a moment for some introspection? Why wouldn’t you look at your drunken behavior and try to change it? He just seems so like, “Well, I was drunk so I don’t know if it really happened or not, I can’t take responsibility for something I was barely there for.” He really thinks because he can’t remember it makes it alright.

Katie yells, “Get it together. What is wrong with you?” and that is the appropriate response. He needs to be an adult. He needs to grow up. You’re a fucking married man in your thirties, Tom. Stop acting like every night is a frat party - that’s literally the fastest way to losing your looks, which we all know is the most important thing to you, because it’s what’s allowed you to continue being the emotionally-stunted immature puppy-boy we’ve been watching for six years. I don’t think he’s consciously trying to cheat, or wants to cheat on Katie or even not be with her. (I mean, he doesn’t want to be with her.) Even Lisa’s like, “What the FUCK, Tom? How can I trust you if you can’t even be trustworthy in your marriage?”

Katie’s embarrassed. And for the first time, it’s for a reason I agree with, and not her general… essence. Or those earrings.

Next Week: Scheana’s parched for Rob, but Rob’s out making out with everyone in Los Angeles. More of Schwartz vs. Katie. Jax and Brittany have a housewarming party. Lala’s there, and oh, she’s got audio recordings of Jax talking shit to Faith about Brittany.

Random Assessments from the Desk of Amanda:

Scheana looks completely gorgeous in that slate blue dress talking head. The most natural she’s looked in a very long time. I still can’t stand those claw nails with the nude nail polish, though.

TomTom is still an offensive name to me. I literally just get “Genius of Love” in my head.

Kristen, Kristen, Kristen. She looked a damn mess in this episode.

I marvel at the fact that these people’s lifestyles are totally ruining their bodies in ways we can’t even imagine but... are they all slurring their words a lot more now?

Why do I feel like their apartment is probably covered in dog shit? Like, pee pads everywhere? ↩︎

And they alllllllllll think they can do the Look At Me Now verse. ↩︎

Touch in Public is one of the best songs created by a Bravolebrity ever, come the fuck at me. ↩︎

Only to see Hillary, did you know we have a podcast? ↩︎

I was LIVING for Ariana’s face in this scene. She had the face of “oh god oh god oh god YES THIS IS SO JUICY oh god oh god” ↩︎

I hate how much I love Lala in this moment. She goes from 0-100 so quickly - but sometimes when you have a sore spot and someone pokes it, you gotta do what you gotta do. ↩︎

HOT TAKE: I think avocados are overrated and cabbage doesn’t get nearly enough respect. Red cabbage? Hot damn, shit's delicious. ↩︎

I was a host/maitre’d in restaurants for five years. I’ve never identified with anything as much as I have this comic. Sometimes I miss it and then I think about the worst nights I had in restaurants and I kind of spiral and thank god that I’m out. ↩︎

When I was in Prague for my study abroad, I bought a bottle of absinthe on my last night when I was hammered, packed it away, and then it shattered in my bag in transit. Everything I owned smelled like anise. Everything. ↩︎

Disgusting in that one of my worst hangovers was at an absinthe bar in Washington DC and sometimes just the smell of absinthe sends me right back there. Don’t mix tripels and absinthe. That is two high-alcohol drinks that should never be combined. Ever. That was the first time I ever took an Uber, though! Come to think of it, that night in Prague was a weird, gross hangover too. Maybe I need to stop drinking absinthe. PFFFFFFFFFFT, never. ↩︎

An underrated fucking brilliant movie. And the last time anyone could tolerate Ben Affleck in anything. ↩︎

I especially loved Sandoval rubbing his forehead in disappointment and saying, “this never would have happened under my watch.” If you have to treat your friends in the same way you treat an infant or a puppy, get new friends. ↩︎

I don’t know how Katie spells her full name but I’m assuming it’s like this. ↩︎

#vanderpump rules #vanderpump rules recap #lisa vanderpump #stassi schroeder #katie should be embarrassed tbh #rugrats #busta rhymes #HERE WE GO YO HERE WE GO YO #SO WHAT SO WHAT SO WHAT'S THE SCENARIO

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caepaecaesurae · 6 years

Text

> Cae + RL : Talk about Anons

(( First the “tell the truth” anon and RL’s problems with Nadaya, and then a delightful mid-sentence segue into kidnapping alt!Sugary ))

Yesterday

caepaecaesurae Is your anon ovwer yet? carnivalsorphans finally :o( caepaecaesurae For wvhat it's wvorth, I gavwe him permission to inform you himself, because I think it wvill get the last vwestiges of upset out of his system, but he's agreed not to do anything. And you are publicly, openly forgivwen. Don't let anyone harsh you about this one anymore. carnivalsorphans thanks. that's an awkward thing to need for my mental health

caepaecaesurae Sorry I didn't out this one before nowv, to try and clear it up. caepaecaesurae It seemed safer to leavwe it buried. carnivalsorphans yeah :o( i assumed you were keepin it for blackmail, not gonna lie to keep me in line, just in case caepaecaesurae .. Not unless you started tormenting people, honestly. carnivalsorphans which, ya know, fair i've tormented very few people. none you care about! caepaecaesurae I'm not as absentminded as sugary, but I'm absentminded enough that I used to keep journals so I wvouldn't miss things. carnivalsorphans hahaha i'm pretty absentminded when my paranoia gives me peace caepaecaesurae Perhaps that's the only difference betwveen us. I'm a fewv steps closer to peace. carnivalsorphans there's probably plenty of other differences. caepaecaesurae Hair color carnivalsorphans hahahahaha yeah. everyone knows i regularly think about even my own moirail's torture now so like...... caepaecaesurae WVell... As long as it stays in the imagination. carnivalsorphans .... i dunno. it ain't just you. in case you were ever wondering. caepaecaesurae That does sooth a bit. I'vwe... met trolls wvhere it WVas just me. carnivalsorphans you're like. higher on the list than some people. but you're higher on the 'keep safe' list than most people too so it all balances out. caepaecaesurae I wvish you the best of luck on the reputation war And in fighting the inner demons that you seem to have mostly in check. carnivalsorphans i don't really care about my rep if i don't die, at this point. no higher authority to report my terrible nature to. no overarching consequence that will ruin everything centuries of work has tried to bring about. we won. so i just worry bout the one thing. caepaecaesurae Life is easier wvith a better reputation, but you'vwe a point. I still wvish you luck. carnivalsorphans he seems less mad. caepaecaesurae I let him read it. The prodding really is vwery subtle on a re-read, wvithout the emotions of the moment avwailable to peruse. carnivalsorphans yeah cuz i'm good at stuff if i was better at faking i probably coulda gotten away with it. luckily for us all, psii is so stupid i never had to get that much better. caepaecaesurae WVe all must havwe our skills. carnivalsorphans anyway, new sugary. wanna collab on figuring out if she's evil or not caepaecaesurae You possibly could havwe. If you'd succeeded, I wvould havwe wvithdrawvn from your rebellion efforts and likely not been on healing duty that night. But yes, I'd lovwe to collaborate on that. I'm puzzled, she's too put together. carnivalsorphans i asked her for a question off. she said it sounded perfectly fair. which...... doesn't sound like her somehow. carnivalsorphans it either sounds like she's actually worried about stuff bein fair or is halfway decent at seemin good when she ain't. and i'm not sure which... carnivalsorphans > Ringleader, too, is not good at pronouns. carnivalsorphans ... yeah i'm gonna go with the latter. i asked her about her quads. and she shot back with what quads i have filled and who they are. i dunno why, but that just seems like her lookin for someone to target caepaecaesurae Same, don't like howv she puts things. Sugary entrusted me wvith a wvay to entrap her direct alternates if they should provwe problematic, and I'm debating using it. carnivalsorphans i know about that, she told me to hunt you down if you ever misused it. this seems like a fair use though, if it ends up bein necessary. caepaecaesurae Pff. Nice to knowv she has a solid set of countermeasures. carnivalsorphans ... she calculates. that's what it is. caepaecaesurae Aye, it is. carnivalsorphans she said she's assessing everything. caepaecaesurae And she cares only for the vwalue of things in material terms to her. carnivalsorphans yeah. which... not that far off from what sugary used to do, but for her it was decadence. for this one it's... tools. caepaecaesurae If I do attempt to enrap her, it's likely to be under the guise of an invwitation to dinner. Or a newv dwvelling or something else easily fabricated. carnivalsorphans if you need a place that ain't prosperity... hahahaha holy shit we got another cell around here. caepaecaesurae I'm afraid the entrapment area is already constructed, in a third party univwerse. Arlequin and I bought Chickens there once. carnivalsorphans aww! that's cute caepaecaesurae Is there? carnivalsorphans yeah. next to enforcer's. caepaecaesurae I wvould be somewvhat concerned if the cell wvas rated to contain her It wvould imply someone other than herself and I knewv the wvay to do that. carnivalsorphans ... she didn't tell me bout specifics of her containment needs, just that you knew em. caepaecaesurae Aye, she's being careful. Can you ask the cell maker if they are rated for her? carnivalsorphans yeah. yeah i'll ask tarrat. carnivalsorphans oh shit looks like she's not much for dinner caepaecaesurae I may havwe to try less subtle methods of luring or abduction, it wvill be fine. carnivalsorphans how does 'i would love to please sugary when she gets back please turn me into a trickster' sound as a method of luring carnivalsorphans from me, of course caepaecaesurae I'm considering teleporting to her, grabbing her, and teleporting her to the other place, I'm just not sure if I'm faster on the drawv than she is. I can teleport out, she can't. carnivalsorphans mmmm you should be careful as shit. caepaecaesurae Aye carnivalsorphans i'm still wantin to do a 'lure' sorta thing, i don't mind bein bait. caepaecaesurae I'll need to disguise the place wve lure her into. She wvon't be able to tell it's a trap until it closes. Literally closes. carnivalsorphans 's important. caepaecaesurae I can disguise my cell as any kind of room or hivwe you like. carnivalsorphans still workin on establishin trust enough. i'm not sure how viable it is, if you can figure somethin safer i'm totally fuckin good with it caepaecaesurae Tell me howv to disguise it, I'll need time. carnivalsorphans uhhhhhhhhhh fuck. probably a sitting room is as good as anythin, until i know more real colorful, somethin between church and trickster. carnivalsorphans oh! tarrat says the cell's sugar proof carnivalsorphans and also around enforcer so neither of them'd have to be bored. win win hahahahaha. caepaecaesurae Time players... carnivalsorphans ;o) ;o) ;o) caepaecaesurae Fair enough. I could disguise that cell into a sitting room, put a transport pad in it, and take it out wvith me. caepaecaesurae I'll.. coordinate wvith him about that. carnivalsorphans or, vel/tarrat can put a transport pad in and destroy it on the way out. .... honestly. ...... should probably ask wicked if more people is rude to him caepaecaesurae I suspect time is not long, before she starts being antisocial. WVe should consider haste. carnivalsorphans i'm askin bout the staff caepaecaesurae To be entirely honest, I'm not sure I can conceivwe of myself as a trickster, wvhich might make me immune. carnivalsorphans hahahahahahahaha caepaecaesurae I'm not terribly wvorried about it. I havwe quadrants to sit on me if anything goes awvry. carnivalsorphans good. ... i'm. a little more worried about it. i promised sugary i wouldn't do what valor did, and this is skirtin that line pretty damn close caepaecaesurae WVhat did he do? carnivalsorphans oh gods, did you not catch that? caepaecaesurae Oh, wvait. Tossing yourself into the line of fire? carnivalsorphans yeah! that shit. caepaecaesurae No, I caught the edge, it's just been a bit. carnivalsorphans the shit that probably prompted her to give you a safety measure caepaecaesurae Aye, it wvas around then. caepaecaesurae All the more reason to get this done soon, before he hears about it. And havwe her somewvhere he can vwisit and pawv at the glass. carnivalsorphans gods i fuckin know right caepaecaesurae ...Gods, Enforcer and Valor do not need to meet. carnivalsorphans hahahahahahahahah are you sure another highblood who's also a vantas might be good for him ;o) caepaecaesurae I havwe a headache already. carnivalsorphans good thing you don't gotta deal with it too much.... caepaecaesurae I'll try to keep complaining to a minimum. Anywvays, I'm wvith Tarrat and wve're wvorking on things. caepaecaesurae He's telling me howv to set up the block, you focus on your part. carnivalsorphans ... you agree that she's best contained, considerin the potential she's got? caepaecaesurae I havwe a bad feeling, and I trust my gut. She *could* be fine -- but her immediate response to a request to behavwe, wvith bribery, wvas "Mmmm no" carnivalsorphans i'm just about to the point of bein ready. caepaecaesurae If wve contain her successfully, it harms little except her vwacation. carnivalsorphans iiii might wind up trickster, please fix it if i do. .... we got an escape method planned to be quick and easy for me caepaecaesurae If that happens, I'll showv up to take you to the Other cell, wvhere I wvill fix you. carnivalsorphans hot. caepaecaesurae There's going to be a transport pad in the room. It wvill disable the moment she is alone in that room. It doesn't need coordinates typed in. carnivalsorphans oh hot you're a damn gem carnivalsorphans trap set, time to be bait send me coords for the cell caepaecaesurae > coords Thank you for your part in this vwenture, chief. carnivalsorphans you bet! sugary can hit me for this later caepaecaesurae To be honest I think she'll kiss you. carnivalsorphans gay caepaecaesurae Hey, just a guess carnivalsorphans we'll see. i sent her the coords, i'm all settled and ready to be a loving matesprit for long enough for her to chill in case she's suspicious nice decorating caepaecaesurae I'm about fivwe feet awvay, armed and armored, and out of line of sight. To your left from the chair. Fivwe feet from the edge of the wvall, excuse me. Other side of it. carnivalsorphans hot

#ooc eyes only #carnivalsorphans #hon mention:#sugaryexcess

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