#now the gang's autumn officially begins | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

socheckitout-mikey · 1 year

Note

do u think u could do something where johnny and the reader aren't officially dating or anything but she keeps stealing and wearing his clothes, and the gang starts teasing them for it, which eventually leads to him actually asking her out? i'm sorry if this is too much or anything but thank you so much!!

ahhh this is so cute! idk how i missed this one. my apologies for taking so long writing it out. it came out waaay longer than i anticipated, but i hope you enjoy what i came up with. (': <33 - mae

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Title: The Shirt Thief

Pairing: Johnny Cade x reader

Summary: A cold night with Johnny Cade in the vacant lot brings you an unusual sense of warmth in the form of his denim jacket. What starts off with said jacket, causes you to end up with multiple articles of Johnny's clothes. It all seems harmless until the gang starts digging their noses into Johnny's business. Are you guys friends or are you more than that?

Word Count: 9,472

Disclaimer: THIS IS EDITED! I fixed the spelling mistakes and some of the grammatical errors. I also added a few new things to it, mainly in dialogue. I hope you like it though! :)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse in Johnny's home (with his parents), animals hunting and fighting, Soc's bullying the reader - vice versa, almost attempted assault, the gang coming to the rescue, rough housing with the gang (banter mainly) and a whole lot of sass! Johnny is somewhat ooc here because he's more talkative and sassy, but it's just how the piece came along! Let me know if I forgot anything else.

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The story of our pesky shirt thief begins in the vacant lot under the sparkling night sky. This night was a relatively clear one in the cusp of autumn’s frost. The full moon was ample, a stunning silver glow that hypnotically danced, shrouded slightly from the wispy clouds sent onward by the chilly fall wind. Amber, golden and burnt brick red crumpled leaves tumbled noisily across the sandy dirt in a mini whirlwind. A toasty fire was being nurtured timidly upon the outskirts of this deserted place, courtesy of Johnny Cade. Underneath the jagged canopy of an almost bare tree, losing its wrinkled leaves, our greasy raven haired boy’s fingers quivered around the spindly stick in his hand. Gave an experimental poke to the half snapped branch swarmed by the smouldering, orange flames. He did not shiver from the cold, but from rampant nerves that pertained to someone he was particularly fond of being there beside him. That person being you.

In a gloomy haze, stretched over sixteen years, the dependent vacant lot with all of its decaying junk left to rot had become his home away from home. It was somewhere he could come to in order to escape the harshness he had just down the street, riddled with its cluttered and intense violence. The one he had with his parents – if he could ever really call them that – had never been consumed with even an inkling of love or nurturing. It practically rotted away from the inside out with its creaky floorboards, dust riddled insides and the damp lining the walls like a thick winter scarf. A location where he was destined to be neglected in, for the only attention he obtained was to be hollered at by his mother when she was hacked off at whatever or whoever it was that particular time: Whereas his father brandished anything he could in hand to pelt him with. The thought made Johnny shudder, a sick nauseous feeling welling up inside of him. Slimy and cold.

However, not all was lost. There had been some silver linings in teaching him things such as love, loyalty and camaraderie: His gang of reliable buddies that would stretch to the ends of the Earth for him were the culprits. Although they had nothing too, they gave him everything he’d been missing. Well, almost everything. They were the sole reason he had not run away about a million times by now. They grounded him, created a net of safety and support that he never would have experienced otherwise if he had not been born in this very downtrodden neighbourhood. Yet they could not save him from everything – a harsh reality he came face to face with daily. Nothing and no one could ever replace the lacking love of his parents.

Nevertheless, the youthful greaser that looked as if he were a puppy that had been kicked one too many times had grown used to bumming around most nights on the busted leather car seat left to waste away in the lot. A frequent bed he now sat upon to gaze up at the glittering stars in the midnight haze of the dark sky. He pondered to himself, watching it while his most favourite person in the world sat off to his right. The silence between you both wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Just off experiencing your own inner worlds whilst you enjoyed the other’s presence. Johnny wasn’t much of a talker as is. You understood the chips he had on the table and didn’t mind in the slightest, but you had your ways of getting him talking.

Despite the fact that he had a warmer and much more benevolent destination to crash at nightly: The Curtis House. He felt an immense pang of guilt and shame engulf him entirely at the thought of taking up that space. This house did not consume the same dreamy and abundant riches that one would desire at the core. Instead those fantasies were only destined for reality on the Wicked West Side of Tulsa, Oklahoma. “The home to the rich and greedy,” as Sodapop loved to put it.

Although the Curtis House lacked in material volume, it oozed a charm in its bare necessities and rundown appearance, with its peeling papered walls and well played piano that needed a miracle of tuning. What it lacked when it came to standardised beauty was made up for by its glowing warmth of love, companionship and acceptance of all the inhabitants that nestled under its rickety roof. It was a safe haven for anyone needing a place to lay low to avoid getting into trouble that could be avoided; a.k.a trouble with the law. Dallas and Steve were also regular inhabitants of the well loved couch perched up against the wall by the front door of the home: A product of powerful tempers that needed quenching. They found solace on that old, brown cushiony hunk of junk just as Johnny did when the nights grew too cold or unbearable on his lonesome.

Johnny stared up at Orion's Belt wondrously, remembering the time he'd heard Ponyboy rattle on about how he'd woken up to find the notorious Tim Shepard occupying his couch, reading the morning paper.

'Now, what in the hell was someone like Tim Shepard doin' on the Curtis’ couch?' Johnny thought silently.

Never had he bagged the likes of the eldest Shepard to reach out for a lifeline like that. It was almost unheard of, unfathomable. Tim was a handsome young man with a gnarly looking scar running from his temple to his chin. He was hard, cold and twisted. Jail, booze and all the criminal endeavours he had under his belt were like a morbid toolkit of how to be the best hoodlum out there. He looked about as capable of accepting charity as a lost soul in Hell. Then Johnny supposed that he never really knew him like Dally did. Johnny's silent disposition made it challenging for him to get close to anyone outside of his gang of buddies. Sometimes he preferred it this way, but usually he loathed it. Loneliness was easy in warping the soul of a good man.

From what Dally had told him of Tim Shepard, it'd be an immense knock to his swelling pride to reach out for help and have everyone aware of it. Inflated prides and fragile egos didn't do wonders for people with big mouths. Hence why Johnny kept his damn trap shut about it after Pony had told him.

'Man, he's gotta be pullin' my leg or somethin'.' He said internally before shaking his head.

Expelling a breath, Johnny settled back into the leather seat as comfortably as possible. He swore he'd get a bad back after opting to take the lumpy side of the car bench with the springs gnawing their way through. It had been the gentlemanly thing to do after all. He was a good guy with a good heart.

Warmth pervaded nicely from the reasonably sized fire he'd established in front of you both, but the chilly wind licked at any bare bits of skin daring to peer through tiny cracks in clothes. He hardly shivered outside of a nervous twitch. Perhaps that was only due to the fact he'd grown accustomed to the elements no matter the weather – unlike yourself.

Instead his charcoal eyes were doe-like, shakily flickering to his right where you sat. Only then in this moment did he fully come to the present moment, understanding the cold bit at your nose, ears and fingers in a way that looked cute. Yet despite your shivering that you so desperately attempted to hide, you sat there in all of your beautiful glory with only a few inches of space between you both. A comfortability you bathed in that seemed so raw, as if you were merely sitting on your living room couch with both of your knees and feet tucked under you and just off to the side. Peace prevailed from the tender smile gracing your features. A subconscious practice, you definitely seemed to be lost in your own thoughts. Johnny stared at you, and wondered what kind of movie was flashing behind those pretty eyes to have the sun dawn across your face like that. To him, all he could see was the vacant lot – a desolate place where only hoodlums would hang in droves, drawn in by its trashy grounds.

"You starin' cuz I got somethin' on my mug or it's just that ugly?" You grinned like a chessy cat, turning to look him directly in the eye. Thinking that being a wise cracker was funny.

Damn you and your perceptiveness.

Instantaneously Johnny ripped his gaze from yours, stiff as a plank. Embarrassment dashed across every cell in his body and left his lungs flat of oxygen. Man, if he thought his usual heartbeat was fast, what was happening inside of his chest right then must have been the speed of goddamn light!

All he could do was stammer out, "U-u-uh n-n-neither!" The poor guy sounded like Porky The Pig.

Your eyelids fluttered in astonishment at the stuttering mess of a young man he was. So jumpy. A mouse scuttling around on sharp eggshells. Part of you would've felt proud of your handiwork if it had been anyone else, but it was Johnny, your best friend. "Awe shucks, Johnny-cake," you offered him sheepishly, "I didn't tell you to stop. I was just messin' with ya. Gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

Messing with him? That was evident. He wasn't cross with you for pulling on his leg, just bothered by himself for getting caught out in the act. "S'okay, I g-get it." He shrugged, trying to play it cool whilst he stared into the portal to the Underworld.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You tried again, bumping him softly with your shoulder.

"Nothin' much," He lied smoothly, picking at the hole in his tennis shoe.

"You sure you ain't developin' the cure for cancer or somethin'? You're pretty smart." You inquired with a cheeky beam.

"Shoot! Do I look like I know what two plus two equals?" Johnny was getting a little bit sassy.

"Okay okay, I get it. I'll back off." You chortled.

'Yeah, thank goodness for that…' Johnny thought to himself. Suddenly he was uneasy with the idea of you ever discovering his little moments of staring at you because he loved the way you looked in candid moments like this one just passed. How did one go about saying these kinds of things? Johnny didn't know a lick. He was a dejected lost cause in the romance department. An awkward bump on a log. Felt he looked cruddy right about now too so he scratched the back of his head fervently for a second. No one really gave him a second glance. He was invisible and too quiet to be noticed.

Yet he failed to realise that you noticed him.

His forlorn expression had been obscured by his shaggy bangs that hung on his forehead. In fact, they no longer existed. You watched him struggle with something akin to wrestling a twenty foot gator inside of that skull of his. It made you feel funny on the inside, as if you were to blame. Diligently Johnny picked up the jagged stick he'd used to poke the flames with earlier. Started drawing in the dusty cold dirt at his feet. Back and forth, left and right, then round and round. A tedious therapeutic cycle.

'Yup, he's off to the moon again.' You thought. 'I'll give him a sec to recoup. I think I made him short circuit a little too hard.'

Just then the bleakness of the night pressed its breathy lips against you. You shivered in response, huddling unconsciously to Johnny for his radiator heat. Part of him was shaking too. The flames jolted haphazardly. A violent twirl of dead leaves kicked up into the air before the wind relented altogether and they fluttered into the fire that engulfed them. It was a beautiful sight indeed, albeit destructive. The elements typically were unforgiving. That was the cycle of life. Mother Nature worked in wondrous ways that went beyond the mere perception of the human mind. Ever evolving and always there. It had put a smile on your face, and Johnny looked at you once more.

"Now, you wanna give me a penny for your thoughts?" He asked.

You slowly turned to look at him, your smile unwavering, "And cash in my trade secrets when you won't give me yours? That don't tally up to me."

Johnny shrugged, trying to hide a ghost of a smile on his features, "You just caught me off guard that's all…"

"Oooooh so I got the element of surprise on my side?" You wiggled your eyebrows. "Who knew I was mighty smooth!"

Johnny rolled his charcoal eyes, shook his head with a laugh, "Don't get too big headed now," he warned.

"Why, cuz I'll float away?"

"Naw," Johnny shook his head, "You sound like Two-bit."

Your countenance fell from grace then; all of the humour drained completely, replaced with a sulk. "Now you just went and ruined it."

Johnny laughed heartily, "I dunno why you got it against him, yn. It was only fifth grade-,"

"Don't remind me of fifth grade! He put gum in my hair and you saw it." You warned with a finger pointed at him. “I looked like a coconut headed bum for two years, Johnny Cade! Two years I ain’t ever gonna get back.”

"Alright, alright! Don't shoot." He mumbled with a half smirk on his face.

"And don't laugh either. Who's side are you on anyway?" You mumbled with your arms folded over your chest.

Johnny met his match in attempting to swallow the laughter down, "Who knew you were this much of a sore loser," with a shake of his head.

"Sore loser my ass…" You retorted, looking off to the side like a petulant child.

All Johnny could do was laugh.

The sourness of your mood forced you to realise the lateness of the night. The cold showed its first signs of frost that danced mistily away from the firelight. You quivered fully this time, rubbing your nimble hands up and down your arms. "Are you cold?" Johnny finally had the courage to ask.

"Uh-huh! But I'll be okay."

"You know you don't have to tough it out for me, right?" Johnny said sincerely. "You shoulda brought a coat. It's November not August."

"I forgot, mom." You mumbled wryly.

"Man, don't call me that. It sounds strange." He pulled a face as he spoke.

"And why not?" You demanded.

"Cuz you sound like T-," He began, but you cut him off.

"Don't even think about saying that name!"

Despite himself, Johnny was laughing something awful. A grin spread across his face akin to a mixture of pride and victory. He'd bested you in the end and even you knew it. "You asshole-," You muttered, but it all bled through into your own sense of laughter that mingled with his.

Then it seemed to die down, a comfortable glow encasing you both. In the midst of it you hardly realised Johnny shimmying beside you – too caught up in the afterglow. But then an uncanny warmth of freshly worn denim was draped over your shoulders. Ghosts of fingertips touched the nape of your neck as it was laid there. Your head turned to find Johnny retracting his hands shyly and passing it off without a word. The gesture touched you, made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"Why?" Your better judgement couldn't stop the question from flying out of your mouth.

Johnny squirmed uncomfortably under your focused stare, "I dunno…" he shrugged. "You were cold and didn't have a jacket. It was the right thing to do I guess."

The right thing to do. It made you beam beautifully then. Johnny Cade was always doing the right thing. Well, maybe not all the time when he was with his buddies, but usually he did. A good guy with a good heart that made yours flutter at the touch. The act of giving you his most prized possession really touched you in ways that made your eyes begin to water. You needed a second to blink them back. Hoping he hadn't noticed. Luckily he hadn't.

You thanked him in the only way you knew how to, by leaning your head on his shoulder. He stiffened to the touch, unfamiliar with it. Johnny wasn't much of a hugger, so physical contact was reserved for special moments. He allowed it this time and you felt his body shake, unsure with what to do with himself. Your fingers wrapped around his bicep, a reassuring squeeze so light it helped him realise you weren't going to hurt him. You never could. He was too special, too gentle, but wild in his own way when he let himself out freely. Yet the person he was now, the boy that gave you his jacket and talked with you the most; that was your Johnny Cade.

"Thank you, Johnny-cake." You whispered into the air, gently holding his hand and squeezing softly. It was sweaty.

"D-don't mention it." He swallowed, giving you an experimental squeeze back. "It's just my jacket, softie."

"Who you callin' softie?" You look up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"You."

Silence befell you, and it was laced in a tranquil dose. Hushed whispers reverberated off of the caverns in your hearts, growing more prominent. All the giggles filled with the springy frolicking of baby lambs. Clumsy and endearing. Johnny lit a fire in you unmatched and vice versa. Young love that was mutual, but unknown to the other. You stayed with him for quite some time, until he walked you home. You'd sent him off with a wave after him shyly telling you to keep it. Made him promise not to sleep out in the cold, and Johnny kept his word. Slunk all the way to the Curtis House three hours before sunup to fortunately find it free. Rest was his, all with a smile screwed on tightly to his features.

Many more instances of thievery occurred with your pesky little fingers and the growing feelings that possessed you like a restless spirit. Time spent with Johnny became your drug of choice, and you could not get enough of him. No funny business was happening, it was just your personalities melding well together. You brought out a sassy part to him, and surprisingly he could keep up with you. Each meeting was set in colder conditions than the last. Forcing Johnny to bring in what little reinforcements he had. You either seemed to forget a jacket or your layers weren't nearly enough. His jacket was a chameleon's skin, bouncing from his shoulders to yours. His shirts were a comforting reminder of him when he wasn't around – shields against the bleakness of winter. His grey sweatshirt was your favourite. Everything began to accumulate.

One day you were both coming from the tracks in the Shepard outfit where a little creek was running through another vacant lot by an old abandoned factory. The water was still frozen and the trees were barren. All sorts of junk stuck to the frosty ground. It was kind of niche-like, a quiet place that seemed abandoned when the sun shone its rays upon Tulsa. It had been an accidental find during a summer day the year before. A superb place to explore when things were warmer and less soggy. Though it was apparent that neither of you had the courage to explore the dangerous insides of the abandoned warehouse in its entirety. Anyone could be lurking there, boobietrapped the innards to protect their stashed hoards. So the pair of you stuck to the outskirts towards the vacant lot beside it.

There you both were, sat upon a crumpled wall, admiring a winter's afternoon like a pair of Humpty Dumpty’s. The sun was bright in the sky, threatening to melt the world entirely. The first inklings of spring graced reality. The robins were chirping, hopping around in search of food nearby. Adorable feathered critters, so fluffy. They reminded Johnny of Christmas as one turned its neck beside him, curiously looking up into his black eyes. Both were inquisitive of the other.

"He looks like you-," your half whisper broke out into the air too loudly. The disturbance made the robin jolt and fly off.

Johnny sighed, "Man, he got so close this time. You just had to go and ruin it didn't you?"

"I'm sorry. Was there a spiritual connection happening? How rude of me!" You gasped with a hand over your heart.

He shook his head, grinning because he wasn't angry about it at all. "He was a cute little guy though…"

"Hence why I said he looked like you." You clarified.

Johnny exploded with a blush, shaking his head again, "You must've hit your head when you fell on the ice earlier."

"My head is not any worse off than it was before, thank you very much!" You defended yourself.

"You know, the first sign of someone tellin’ porkies is denial, right?"

"I am not tellin’ porkies!"

"Are too-," Johnny countered, nudging you with his elbow.

"Am not!"

Falling back into that effortless banter made you both grin like chessy cats. It was silly, but very much needed. You knew Johnny got extra embarrassed whenever you'd start complimenting him, especially in the looks department. You didn't say these things just to throw him off, but because you truly meant them. Johnny was cute. One of the cutest guys you'd seen in a longtime. Maybe he wasn't moviestar handsome like Sodapop, but girls were missing out when they overlooked him. He had his own things to bring to the table; loyalty, kindness, abiding the law… Just to name a few. You suddenly shook these thoughts out of your head, deciding if you went too deeply down this path that it was best not to be done in Johnny’s presence. Lest you were to blabber about it like you'd done to your other friends who'd told you to ask him out already. They just didn't understand how delicate the matter was really. Johnny wouldn't say yes anyway.

"Hey look! Those cats are back," Johnny quietly hissed by your side, pulling you out of your daze.

You followed his line of sight and sure enough the two male felines were there. Lithe in nature and mean looking. A skinny orange tabby trotted forward, a snaggle tooth protruding from his mouth. By his side was his black Bombay counterpart, scraggy bodied with dirty fur and a distinct chip taken from his ear. They were silent, far from their former glory days when they knew what a good home was. The Bombay was a little bigger than his cheddar companion, and it was easily understood by any human looking in that a pact had been formed between them through a necessity to survive. The pair of you had spied them before, a distrusting set that initially hissed and growled. They were all claws and teeth so you kept your distance to avoid any surprise visits to the clinic. However now they seemed to tolerate your presence, acting as if the silence you exuded exempted your existence. Johnny and you admired them, goofy grins on your faces, because the cats were ready to commit their timely crime of hunting for some grub of the day. You knew who they reminded you of.

"Well if that ain't Dally and Tim," You consciously made the effort to whisper.

Johnny nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I can see it."

"Which one's which?" You asked, genuinely curious about Johnny's take.

He was reluctant to take his eyes off the cats, watching them begin prowling forth towards an unsuspecting robin. "Huh?" he hummed, finally looking at you just as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

"Which cat is Dally and which one is Tim? You know 'em better than I do." You pressed softly.

"Oh, that's easy, Dally's the ginger tabby and Tim's the Bombay." He offered with a nod of his head in the felines direction.

"What why?" You demanded it up at him.

“Well if we’re goin’ off their looks for a start, Tim looks like the Bombay cat. Guy is a real alley cat – got a lot of street smarts and carries himself well. Besides, he's tougher than a bag of nails.” Johnny did have a point – Tim looked just like that black cat with his curly jet hair.

Speaking of the black cat, it had entered a state of hunting, kneeling down with coiled taught muscles – just ready to pounce on that unsuspecting robin below, pecking at the seeds you and Johnny had left behind earlier. You hoped it wouldn’t be eaten, couldn’t stomach to see something so savage. However, you supposed that was only the way the circle of life worked.

“The orange tabby’s Dally cuz of that cool look in his eyes. The way he carries himself so freely. Out of the two, the tabby’s the one that’s in charge somehow. He writes the rules that the other cat’s always tryna best.” Johnny offered with a brief shrug before continuing, “Not that the black cat is following any rules. Both have minds of their own.”

Boy, you could really hear the way he admired Dallas Winston from the way he spoke about the orange tabby. It was wholesome. Dally was Johnny’s hero — the kid practically worshipped the ground the guy walked on. You didn’t see why. To you, Dallas Winston was a rotten hoodlum with a track record of breaking the law in every way, shape and form that he could. He frightened you like The Boogeyman had when you were nine. Where you both engaged with each other somewhat cordially, you preferred to keep your distance. You supposed that you had no room to judge after all. There was a deep friendship that had developed between him and Johnny; you’d seen it in Dally’s cold hard eyes… affection. It made you grin then, wondering if Johnny thought strangely of your heroes too.

“And both of them are jackasses.” You countered, bumping his shoulder mischievously.

Johnny laughed a little, looking at you for a few short moments. “Yeah alright, I’ll give you that.”

You liked the way he’d described the two though. It was a statement that fit the pair of hoodlums in a peapod together. Yet the orange tabby did appear to be the leader as it licked its wonky chops delectably. Inched closer by the second, a silent assassin to carry out its hunter gatherer lifestyle. It was intelligent, mimicking the movement of the robin that had caught onto it. It lured the bird on a swift and winding course, swiping for it good and hard but missed. Never mind. The robin fluttered up and into the line of sight of the black cat, a moment of fear in its beady eyes. Yet just as the night-like feline swept its razors at it, the robin burst into the air and flew off in the opposite direction. It had missed its meal by a feathers length. Every other robin in the vicinity flew off instantly, leaving the two cats dumbfounded.

In frustration, the orange tabby yowled and darted forth. Its clawed paw zipped out and popped the mouth of the black cat. The black cat hissed, stunned for a mere second before it lunged for the only comrade it had in this god forsaken world. The two tumbled together in an infuriated Halloween special of blurred fur. A gasp floated from your mouth as they rolled back and forth. A genuine cat fight unheard of. They sounded like two ghouls trying to out spook the other – alien and loud.

Johnny couldn’t help but laugh out of nervousness. He wasn’t trying to be cruel whatsoever. Didn’t like to see animals fighting and hurting each other, but it humoured some sick part of him. “Just like Dally and Tim, huh? Buddies one minute then at each other’s throats the next.”

“Amen to that.” You found the humour of the situation, only because it was too similar to the real life hoodlums you both knew.

You’d seen your fair share of those guys beefing it out in the past together in The Dingo parking lot, let alone practically in your own backyard. They were a strange duo – too competitive and cut from the same cloth. They’d never find another person just like them, that was for sure.

Just then an icy gust came throttling through the area, reminding you both that it was still winter. A tremor ran through the pair of you, and you huddled together for warmth. By now the cats had slumped off to their own corners of the lot, hissing and growling as they went. Sore egos and bodies made them sulk and mewl in the shade whilst they licked their wounds.

“Dammit-,” your teeth chattered, moving closer to Johnny. “March my ass…”

Johnny breathed a laugh, shaking his head. He scanned your features humorously, those bushy brows hidden by a thick blanket of his black greasy bangs that flopped onto his forehead.

“What?” You mumbled, your fingertips unconsciously reached for him in the space between you both. Johnny didn’t notice.

He stared at you for a good three seconds before opening his mouth to speak, “How can you be cold with all those layers you got on?”

“Well I mean it’s obvious, it’s winter.”

“Uh-huh-,” Johnny sassed, smirking slightly, “As if you ain’t wearin’ my shirt, my sweater and my jeans jacket too. Got the whole department store on your back.”

Abashment took hold of you as your gaze dropped down to inspect yourself. There was Johnny’s jacket on you, and underneath his tattered grey sweater, that black t-shirt poking up above the collar. And Johnny? He was adorned in a wrinkled white shirt with a blue and creamy egg yellow flannel over the top you guessed was one of the gang’s. Worn over that was Dally’s brown leather jacket with the cosy sheepskin lining. You pouted with a bruised ego, looking off to the side, “It’s not like you’re naked or nothin’…” you murmured petulantly.

Johnny chuckled breathily, your joined hands jostling as he tugged on it without any semblance of awareness, as if to gain your attention. “Not yet, but I’m gonna be! Man, do you know what I had to say to get this jacket from Dally?” He was teasing you.

“Mmmppppffff…” you grunted, crossing your legs on that wall.

“The guys are askin’ questions and I dunno what to tell ‘em any more!” His voice broke a bit before he continued, “Two thinks I’m preparin' to run down the centre of town butt naked!”

That made you burst out into fits of giggles. The thought was so unorthodox it was hilarious. “You’re tellin’ him that’s the truth right? God, could you imagine? I can see the news articles now: Johnny Cade, Teenage Delinquent Gone Buck Wild!” You beamed, throwing your free hand out to elaborate some unseen picture.

Johnny shook his head again, laughing with you, “Man, you’re just as bad as Soda!”

“I’m twice as good looking too!” You offered with all the cheekiness you could muster.

All he could offer was an entertained roll of his eyes. Your shoulders bumped together, old comrades turned into something more. His soft gaze fell onto your interwoven fingers, and his heart fluttered like dove wings. A widened gaze, then that notorious blush exploded under that tanned flesh. His mind was incapable of functioning. It was wholesome, but you read everything wrong. Made a move to release his hand and he stopped you.

"Don't." It was the strongest word you'd heard from him as he held your hand tighter than he ever had before. Not enough to hurt you, but to let you know it was real too.

"Y-you sure?" It was your turn to stutter.

The look he shared with you may have been wavering to some degree, but there was certainty in those eyes. His mouth opened to speak, "Yeah, I don't mind one bit."

I don't mind one bit. It ran round and round in your head. A starstruck expression invaded your beautiful countenance. The reassurance was a bonus that made your belly fill with a plethora of butterflies. Cloud nine had nothing on this moment.

Johnny explored the expressions flitting across your face with a newfound sense of wonder. That pleasant delight racing through you was infectious as you stared off into the junk riddled vacant lot, your mind preoccupied with his hand in yours. The sun dawned across your features once again, like that autumn night you'd spent with him in your neighbourhood's vacant lot. The understanding that he was the source of that made his belly squirm, a giddiness overcoming him. He could no longer deny the fondness he had for you so blatantly.

With him leaning a little closer to you, he whispered, "How about you give me at least some of my stuff back?"

"Mmmmm maybe,"

"yn-," there was an uncommon sense of sternness in his voice.

"But-," You tried objecting.

"No buts-," he rushed out with a shake of his head, "At least give me one! I've been wearing this shirt for three days now!" He was hilariously incredulous.

"Is that why you stink?" You taunted him.

"Not funny-," He made his best attempt to be cross with you.

"Okay, okay! I'll give them back." You said begrudgingly.

"You better bring the cavalry with how much you have stolen from me, you little shirt thief."

"In my defence, you did give them to me… But I'll have them for you next time I see you, scouts honour!" You spoke sincerely with your free hand held dramatically over your heart.

"Uh-huh, that's what you said last time and I still didn't get 'em back." He bantered.

"Well, that wasn't a real scout's honour." You admitted with a diffident rub to the back of your head.

"yn-," he shook his head.

"Hey! I'm serious this time."

"Good…" He trailed off, his other hand beginning to play with the rings banded around your fingers absentmindedly.

Blissfulness carried upon the wind, a promise of returning what wasn't yours already settled. Golden light broke through the clouds, catching Johnny in the face directly, which made him grimace evidently. You grew lost in his handsome physique, feeling the pad of his thumb drag up and down the back of your hand. The sensation was special, because Johnny had warmed up to you so much.

It was a lively Saturday night, and with the determined honour of a scout member, you showed up like clockwork with a bag filled with Johnny's things. It was just as the crowds at The Nightly Double encroached upon the Tulsa streets in boisterous droves. Everyone was high on the giddy delight of the movie they had just watched – the late night viewing of two specials before the drive-in closed its doors for the night. Previous arrangements with another friend had you missing out on the fun, but here you were wearing your very own leather jacket with Johnny's denim one bunched up nervously in the palms of your hands. Speaking of Johnny, he had tagged along with the gang – minus Darry, because movies seemed to bore the older man to death.

A pair of scrawny looking Socy guys stalked out of the front doors, acting like big shots, cutting in front of a dark green Corvair on its way out and into the oncoming traffic. The driver of the same social class hung out of the driver's window whilst his girl attempted to pull him back in.

"Hey watch it, wise guys! If you're lookin' to get your asses run over, then be my guests and step back in my line of sight!" He snarled aggressively before his girlfriend won the battle and pulled him back inside to tell him to "knock it off".

A line began to form behind them as the couple argued incessantly, presumably over the guy's foul temper. Car horns honked on the spring breeze, forcing the guy to nervously step on the gas. They almost crashed into a Chevy Impala before zipping off home. You could see the animated scowl of the girl refusing to talk to her boyfriend in the side view mirror as they retreated. She glowered at you as if you were the scum of the earth. It didn't make you feel too hot.

The two wisecracking Soc's cackled at their attempts at being hard, stalking forth when they caught sight of your lonesome form. Vile cackles were shot your way as they walked past you before deciding the better option was to encircle you like a couple of hammerhead sharks.

'Boy, these dingbats don't know what tree they're barking up.' You thought, stiffening your body up for any form of unexpected physical contact. You weren't gonna let yourself get blown over that easy.

"What's up, greaser? You lookin' to bum around on our streets?" The six foot tall pencil with the sour breath sneered down at you, bumping your shoulder, making a come around to your left. When he disappeared behind you, the other one with chestnut hair the texture of straw invaded your face.

"Yeah, who said you were allowed round these parts anyway?" He jeered, smacking his gum obnoxiously.

Typically these dorks wouldn't have been graced with so much of your attention, but being on your own with a whole sea of onlookers made you weary. However you sure didn't show it. No one was there to stand up for you so you had to do it yourself. All you could do was raise your eyebrows, feeling the burning sense of humiliation rise from the pits of hell beneath your feet. It felt toasty, but the wrong kind. A glower of pure vexation was sent up their way. 'Who are these cocky jackasses, anyway? I've got the same right to use these streets like anyone else!' You contemplated.

"Oh really? I never knew white trash chequerboards like yourselves owned the streets everybody walks on." Your lips flapped wryly before you could even say a word.

The entertained gazes of onlookers of every social class stopped to stare. Murmurs of speculation broke out: Two against one didn't typically seem like a fair fight, but with the sheer scrawniness of the socially elite, it seemed to look like the chips fell in your favour. Though you knew appearances could be deceiving, harbouring a surprising sense of physical strength.

In a rift of the crowd, six pairs of familiar eyes honed in on your shining moment of unprovoked confrontation.

"White trash chequerboards?!" The pencil growled out, sharing a glance with his straw haired counterpart. For the most part they were dumbfounded, not having expected you to stand up for yourself.

"If anyone's white trash, it's you, greaseball." The second one jutted his finger in your face.

Nothing about your countenance betrayed you. Cold and detached you stared at that finger in your face with a deep sense of boredom. Then an almost smug smirk etched your features as you stared up into his grey eyes.

"Oh my, my!" A dripping sense of mocking venom entered your tone. "Seems like I got more class than that finger you got pointed at me. Seriously, you got a licence to be armed with carryin' that thing? You better watch what you do with it before it falls into the wrong hands. You know, because with great power comes great responsibility and all." You were armed with so much sass it made you invincible.

The crowd surrounding you burst into a fit of laughter so potent that it burnt these punks into a startled pile of ash. The pair of Soc's were so vapid that they were a bore even to themselves, which is why they were acting out as if they were five times their sizes. You were lively, armed with a silver tongue that could slice just about anyone to pieces who tried to humiliate you.

"Oh yeah, you little punk?" The first one growled, invading all sense of your personal space.

You took one step back, your eyebrows raised, "It's his responsibility, not mine. Whatch'yu gettin' all riled up for, eh? Can't take a joke, Mister Funny?"

"I'll show you a joke when I knock your two front teeth out." He barked.

Oooh's and aaah's broke through the crowd on a symphony of guffawing. You cocked one eyebrow up at him, a cockiness overcoming you. What could you do otherwise? If no one had your back, you had to have your own. That was just the way the cookie crumbled when you were a greaser – if there was a cookie at all.

"Oooooh~ Don't threaten me with a good time, pencil dick." You snorted. "I will bend your ass like a goddamn pretzel before you can even have a chance to beg for your mommy to save you."

The two guys shared a look, the degradation burning their senses of pride to withering embers. Their faces were pinkened beyond recognition, boarding on a fiery red. Your insults only poured gasoline on the fires. They couldn't back out now with the engrossed mass around the three of you. Your body stiffened as they went to grab you, preparing yourself for a fight that would no doubt cause the fuzz to come shutting it down. The image of yourself being cuffed in the back of a cop car had you overcome with a sense of terror. You weren't made for jail with your sharp tongue and sass. Wouldn't last two seconds flat in a grim place like that.

Before any contact could occur, a boisterous New York accent throttled into the air, a familiar arm slinking over your shoulders, "Hey Dumb and Dumber, you really wanna go gettin' your asses handed to you by a girl in front of all of these people?" Dallas was snickering with a smoke hanging out of his mouth, leaning against you smoothly as he patted your upper arm, but he wasn't your only saviour.

The other five lean and hard looking members of the Curtis gang had rolled up in all of their greasy headed glory. Pony and Johnny were Dally's flanks whilst Sodapop and Steve jammed themselves on either side of the pathetic turkeys that had bothered you. Two-bit prowled like a cat, that smug, wild grin carved onto his handsome features. The oldest of the six came in the centre of the perpetrators, an arm slung on each of their shoulders. It was overly friendly, even for Two.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't the socially elite barking up a tree they didn't know was a mountain! I'd get your eyes checked if I were you." He laughed, squeezing them together under his impressive arms. The others joined in.

"I think it's time these tuff lookin' sons of bitches got in the ring with the big shots." Steve yipped sarcastically, clapping the straw haired guy on the back a little too roughly.

"Lookin' like a bunch of heavyweight champs, am I right?" Soda leered, his once kind blue eyes filled with a mischievous malice.

The two Soc's looked at each other, realising they'd made a mistake in targeting you. "We don't want any trouble." The first one said, fumbling.

"Yeah! We was only just jokin' around." The other made a pitiful attempt at joining in on the laughter.

"Oh really now?" Dally quipped through dragon's breath, plucking his smoke from his lips and wiping the back of his index finger under his nose like he was annoyed. "I call bullshit, beanpole. Ain't that right, Johnny?" Dally asked Johnny, motioning towards him.

With a black gaze as cold as obsidian, Johnny nodded his head, "Sure thing, Dally." He refused to take his gaze off of the perpetrators who recognised that hoodlum's menacing name anywhere.

"Pony?" Dally turned, looking over your head at the fourteen year old greaser with the greyish green eyes. He put that smoke back in between his lips and inhaled sharply.

"Yup!" Pony popped the 'p' at the end of the word.

"Great, it's settled!" Dally exclaimed, pulling his arm from over your shoulders and rubbing his hands together like a fly with an evil plan. He stepped forward, his face a mere couple of inches from theirs. "You dumbasses get to go toe to toe with me for fucking with the wrong person, and then my buddies will have what's left of you. How do you like the sound of that?"

The way Dally seethed it even had you shaking in your boots. There was almost a sense of honour riding on your guts. It wasn't everyday that Dallas Winston was standing up for you, but when it happened you took it willingly. The two guys had become pale ghosts, shuddering with sweat dewing their foreheads. Dally meant those words, but it seemed he was mainly toying with them. So were the rest of the gang too. With matching Cheshire grins plastered on their faces they watched as the two shoved past Soda, tripping over the boot Johnny had stuck out and shot in through an opening in the crowd to salvation. Sent to faceplant on the ground with a series of laughter as the drama seemed to be over for the most part and people lost interest.

"Where are you goin'? Wait until we set her on ya!" Sodapop called, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders.

"Yeah, she may seem like she’s all bark, but she's got one hell of a bite!" Steve cackled.

Lost in an ocean of chaos, Johnny's inquiry of concern for you slithered back down his throat. He bled into the background, admiring the way your eyes rolled as the wisecracking descended upon you.

"The hell was that, kid?" Dally said between inhaling his smoke. Rubbing the top of your head with his ringed fingers awarded him with a generous shove from you. His treatment hurt, but he was happy to see you, which was unusual.

"Get offa me-," You grunted and he eventually relented.

Before Steve could chime in about you being a smart ass or wandering around on your lonesome, your most dreaded member of the gang came blundering on over. A half drunken stupor holding him up by some invisible string, "Haha! Where did you learn to talk like that? Dare I say you got some inspiration from somebody in particular?" He waggled his eyebrows at you.

"Oh, well ain't those the biggest words you’ve ever said! Ugh, don’t make me sick, two cents." You bit at him.

"Eh, at least I'm worth somethin' in this world." He chuckled, clapping your shoulder.

"That was meant to be an insult." You retorted.

"Really? That's a whole compliment and a half!" He exclaimed with his arms thrown up.

"Yeah yn, I sure can hear the church bells ringin' right now!" Soda grinned at you, cupping his free hand over his ear. In fact, to seal the deal he wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the seven of you began walking to your neighbourhood.

Steve came up on the other side, walking the tight line of the curb, "From haters to lovers!" He beamed, spreading his palms out in the open space before you like he was presenting a far away picture. "It all started when you were in fifth grade and he was in sixth, gum to the hair, a pop to the mouth and the rest was history!"

Johnny listened and observed, laughing halfheartedly along with his buddies. Something about Soda's and Steve's words tugged on his heartstrings in a plucking fashion. It was uncomfortable and didn't sit right with him. Yet he couldn't be too mopey about it, it wasn't like anybody knew his growing feelings for you. By now there was a confusion in your friendship, as if all these special moments you'd experienced together had evolved the friendship into something else. He was afraid of what that meant. Things would never be the same ever again, and he found himself eyeing up the bag full of his clothes on your shoulder and his jeans jacket wadded into your hand.

Well, at least your promise had been genuine this time.

If you weren't riled up before you were now. A sucker punch to the gut was minutely dodged by Steve, who hopped to safety behind Dallas like a kangaroo. Being surrounded by people you knew was nice as the mood settled somewhat. Johnny found his natural place to the left of you, keeping in time with your easy pace.

Sodapop raised his eyebrows and asked the question everyone had been wondering, "Hey yn, what were you doing there all alone?"

"Ain't that Steve's line?" You quipped.

“Gettin’ to be more and more like Ponyboy everyday, yn!” Steve warned, messing up Pony’s hair for comedic relief.

Pony was certainly not pleased, pulling his comb out of his back pocket and using the sideview mirror of a car to fix his hair in the dark. “Stupid Steve…” grumbled past his lips.

“What was that?” Steve barked next to Soda.

“Nothin’, said I looked stupid…” He lied with burnt cheeks and ears to match.

"That's what I thought, little guy." Steve stared at him.

Once the commotion had somewhat settled Dally eyed you up and spoke through his smoke, “Soda’s got a point. What were you doing there?” He noticed that bag over your shoulder and whistled, “Did your goody two shoes ass get kicked out or are you just droppin’ by to bid your farewells on us common folk before you skip town?”

Put on the spot, you hesitated for a second, “Uh, I just came to see Johnny.”

“With the entire mall's inventory?” Two grinned wickedly, pressing for more information. "Johnny's become quite the charity case lately." He teased, noogying Johnny playfully who shrugged him off with a small laugh.

“Hey wait a sec, isn't that Johnny’s jeans jacket?” Pony spoke up once his precious hair had been rearranged.

Dallas’s pesky fingers swiped the jacket in your hands with a mind of his own – and like a chimp, he examined its authentication closely. The five other members gathered around him as if he held the fifth wonder, which left you and Johnny with the liberation of simultaneously backing up at the edges of the throng. “You wanna make a break for it?” You hissed your suggestion at Johnny, who nodded his head.

That’s when five heads whipped up with dumbfounded expressions. This was Johnny’s jacket! The one he said he’d lost. Soda’s eyes were the first to eye up that bag strapped to your shoulder, a familiar grey sweater poking out through the zipper that wouldn't close properly. “Hold on one stinkin’ minute.” Realisation hit him with a dopey grin.

Two caught on next, his hand grasping the bag strap and pulling it from your shoulder. In the same motion he’d freed the grey sweater from the confines, only to find more clothes underneath. “Haha!” He cackled noisily, “You’re the one who’s been swiping his clothes? You sly fox!”

“Johnny and yn sitting in a tree-,” Steve cackled, only to get cut off by Dally who smacked him in the chest.

“What are you man, four?”

“Four?! I’ll show you four!”

“Oh glory-,” You mumbled, looking at Johnny, “I think I made a mistake.”

“You think?” He hissed, his tone was somewhat biting, looking scared stiff for the incoming of terrible teasing.

"Johnny's got a girlfriend! Johnny's got a girlfriend!" Soda and Two started chanting, patting and shaking their pal with enthusiasm. It wasn't long before the other three started in on it too. The chant of the year belted out from strong chests on shrill wails of hyena laughter.

"Check him out, famous ladies man! I knew you had it in ya Johnny." Dally clapped his back.

"Should've known you were stealing my girl, Johnny." Two teased. "You can have her the first five days of the week, but I call dibs on weekends! That's when she gets extra sassy."

"In your dreams, two shits." You barked.

"I dream of sixth grade every night!" Two swooned, making you laugh.

Johnny was as red as a beet, even Ponyboy couldn’t contain his laughter. 'Boy, do we have something to tell Darry!' Pony's and Soda's eyes gleamed dazzlingly.

"Eh, guess you won't be needing this!" Dally grinned from behind you both, softly tugging on his leather jacket Johnny was wearing. In one fell swoop it was off of his shoulders and draped over Dally’s humble forearm.

“Here you go, young sire!” Sodapop bowed with a roll of his hand, an English accent flawlessly executed.

In came Steve on one knee, holding up the humble denim article he'd swiped from Dally's pesky digits. “Oh Johnny, with all of my love for you, will you take this humble offer?” he exclaimed dramatically.

Johnny snatched the jacket from Steve’s gripey hands, along with the bag of his shirts you’d brought along from Two-bit. He was embarrassed, that was evident. Wished you’d done this at a different time, but hey, duty called; a promise was a promise. Scout’s honour, right?

Without even thinking he grabbed your hand in his, reeling you away from the madness, all sassy. “Alright, that’s enough now!”

A chorus of wolf whistles expelled into the air. Wildness evident in the five guys who'd grown up with the both of you. They were just playing of course, excited that Johnny finally had a lady in hand. It wasn't often the raven haired greaser picked someone up, let alone initiated any physical contact – romantically of course. Johnny had always been quite reserved, but here he was taking the initiative, pulling you around in the opposite direction of them. Surprisingly assertive despite him shaking like a goddamn ghost.

You guys got maybe a few feet away when Dallas called out on the wind, “Hey yn, you better not be takin’ off the clothes on Johnny's body or he’ll be arrested for public indecency!”

"I said that's enough!" Johnny called back, heat vivid on his cheeks.

With that you both escaped around the next corner, the gang's calls and laughter fading into the background. Dipped into an alleyway to lose them for good. Glory knew they'd follow you both, and Johnny couldn't bear the thought of that. There was exhilaration in your chests. Johnny's hand was hot and sweaty in yours when you wound onto Pickett and Sutton. The air felt tight and you were afraid you'd just made an inconsolable mess of everything.

“Honest to God Johnny, that wasn’t planned-,”

He was sour, scrunching up his face, “Shoulda just let you keep these things.” He said with a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “They looked better on you anyway.”

“Johnny Cade,” you gasped, stopping in the middle of the street, the yellow light from above illuminating you both, “was that you flirting with me?”

Albeit clumsy, he was endearing. “Maybe, I dunno.” His cheesy grin warmed your heart.

All you could do was gawk at him.

“Look, all I know is that I kinda don’t mind you stealing my crap, okay?”

“So I have special authority to steal? What is this, a secret mission for your girlfriend?” You grasped onto his arm, leaning into him.

Girlfriend settled in the air in a peculiar fashion. It had never been uttered before, you both had just been friends up until this point. The confusion between you both seemed to fizzle away. The term sounded right. Johnny didn't want to be your friend any more, the guy on the sidelines dreaming of being with you. He swallowed thickly, looking at you.

"I'm sorry I-," he cut you short.

"Nah don't be." He shook his head softly.

"So uh," you breathed a laugh, "that means we're like dating? " You tested the word on your tongue.

He exploded with a blush, and a sense of pride swelled in your heart. "Y-yeah-," he nodded softly.

It went quiet, but nothing was awkward about it. Two hearts galloped like wild horses through summer filled fields. You found the courage to speak first, whispering mischievously into his ear, "So what about that secret mission?"

Johnny rolled his eyes, but breathy humour expelled from his lips, “Operation Shirt Thief!” He said in his best movie man trailer voice.

You burst out in a fit of giggles, the walk home feeling bountiful and warm.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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aris-c0rner · 11 months

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beautiful deception || one.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 3,589 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: language, minor mentions of bloodshed, brief mention of firearm-induced injury, minor descriptions of violence and pain. most chapters will have similar warnings since this is a gang au, so if you’re uncomfortable with that sort of material, i would suggest not reading. otherwise, welcome to the first official chapter! :)

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞: tuesday, september 2nd. 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 8:12 am. 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: downtown pyongston, korea.

—

At a glance, the Tuesday that changed your life started out as nothing more than an ordinary early autumn morning. The leaves were painted gold while they held on dearly to the trees, the birds were beginning to cross overhead towards warmer climates, and there was only a faint chill in the breeze when it swept gently through the streets. Everything was calm, and everything was familiar. Even your walk along the outskirts of downtown Pyongston was the same as it always was; you passed by the same houses and complexes as you'd passed the morning before, the scenery a constant on your way to the local college.

The only thing that was different on that fateful Tuesday morning was the bullet that ripped through your shoulder in the middle of a run-down convenience store.

Confused? Maybe it'd be best to start from the beginning.

You'd woken up that morning a little later than you would have liked, hitting snooze one too many times until you were rushing through your daily routine to keep from being late to your Tuesday lecture. You pulled on whatever presentable outfit you'd laid out for yourself the night before, your sweet little cat Tommy meowing in protest at not getting his morning cuddles; you pouted at him apologetically while you laced your shoes up, promising to give the calico extra cuddles when you came home from class tonight. He purred and wound himself around your legs as you hastily shoved your textbooks in your bag, glancing at your phone to keep an eye on the time.

You decided you were too behind schedule to make your usual breakfast now. You only had another 25 or so minutes to get onto campus, so you left without eating, planning to stop by the convenience store you always walked past and grab something quick to keep you from getting too hungry during class. Turning your key into the lock, you put your earbuds in and started the brisk walk to your college campus.

The morning was picturesque: birds called out pleasantly as they started their migrations down south, the trees that lined the sidewalk were splashed with color, and the few pedestrians you passed had a smile on their face, as if telling you that today was going to be a good day. Based on the pep in your step and the bright tune streaming from your headphones, you had a feeling it'd be a good one, too.

But you had no idea how wrong you'd be.

You picked up your pace when the large grocery store came into sight, stomach growling at the thought of snagging one of those delicious blueberry muffins you loved so much, and you waved at the only other morning walker on the path as they jogged past you. Looking back, it was a bit odd that there weren't as many people out and about as usual on the normally busy sidewalks downtown; but you paid it no mind. You quickly approached the store and paused your playlist as you swung the door open, expecting to be hit with the smell of baked goods and the chatter of customers.

Instead, you were met with silence. A silence so deafening for this part of the city that it left your ears ringing. Where was everybody?

It was weird; the eerie feeling that something wasn't right started to creep up on you, but again, you paid it no mind. Maybe it was a holiday and you'd simply forgotten? Or maybe there was some political campaign happening in the town square again, and everyone was just gathered there- you figured there was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for the silence and the lack of people, so you shrugged it off and turned your song back on, searching the aisles for your favorite quick breakfast. Spotting the pre-packaged muffins, you grabbed two and headed for the self-checkout kiosk, not seeing anyone at the register.

It seemed to spool forever until the checkout page finally loaded. You scanned the items and grabbed your card while nodding your head to the music you were playing, swiping it and waiting for the transaction to go through. The screen blinked angrily at you, displaying an error and redo option. You pressed it and still, nothing happened. You jabbed at the screen a few more times, growing frustrated as it kept giving you error messages. "Why won't this thing work?" You said to yourself, sighing and taking your unpaid muffins up to the cashier's counter. But it was empty; there wasn't a single employee to be found in the entire place. You took out your earbuds and pocketed them, standing impatiently by the counter.

"Where did everyone go?" You wondered out loud. You were sure this was going to make you late for your lecture, but you needed to eat something. Your voice almost seemed to echo in the empty store, confirming that you were the only one there; or at least, that's what you thought.

Until a sharp, loud noise- scarily similar to fireworks- came from behind the door that said employees only, the sound nearly unmistakable though you'd never even heard it once before.

Your heart immediately clenched with fear. Pyongston was a generally safe town, and it was barely half past eight in the morning. Surely you couldn't have just heard a gunshot? But the anxiety that riddled your chest said otherwise. You stood paralyzed at the register, unable to move even though your mind screamed at you to drop the muffins and run, and that was when you heard it.

Voices.

Overlapping and angry, you could make out that there was shouting coming from the other side of the door. The muffins and your credit card fell to the ground as you quickly ducked behind the register, grabbing the largest object in your vicinity; oddly enough, it happened to be a metal crowbar, though you had no idea what it was doing in a convenience store. You wielded it with shaking hands, approaching the door with your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

You were almost to it when you heard another loud shout, this one from your back.

You turned around so fast you gave yourself whiplash, not bothering to stop the terrified scream from rising in your throat and you brandished the crowbar wildly. Three tall, intimidating men with masks over their faces were closing in on your position, each of them cocking guns your way. You felt your stomach sink in the cold realization that this was not going to be an ordinary Tuesday anymore: you were in very real and very immediate danger. Your self-defense classes never could have prepared you for this.

"Hey! Don't move another inch!" You shouted fiercely, waving the crowbar around in the air to discourage them from coming any closer. It worked, sort of; the men halted in their tracks and the one in the center removed his mask, revealing a man who looked to be about your age and who sported an extremely confused expression. You refused to lower your weapon.

"Who the hell are you?" He demanded, holding his gun back when you gave your crowbar another swipe in his direction. The other two with him also lowered their guns, but you were too afraid to drop your tool, not sure if they still posed a threat. Maybe they were undercover cops?

Your voice wavered with fear when you gave the man your name. "I'm Song Y/N, I go to the campus a few blocks away." You volunteered the information in case these guys were cops of some sort, just so they wouldn't get the wrong idea. The men holstered their guns entirely, and the maskless one raised his hands in a no-harm gesture.

"You mean you're a student there?" He asked, and you nodded vigorously. He ran a hand through his hair roughly, cursing out. "Shit, guys. She's a fucking civilian." The two men on either side groaned in unison, and you hesitantly let the crowbar drop a little. "Jaehyun's gonna have a field day with this one."

Before you could ask any more questions- namely what in the fuck was going on here - the deafening popping noises resounded from behind the door again, and the three men sprung into action. The maskless one motioned for his buddies to go towards it and he walked right up to you, grabbing your arm without giving you a chance to use your handy appliance on him. "Alright Y/N, here's what we're gonna do." He began instructing you as he led you towards that door. "We're gonna do our best to get you to safety as fast as we can, but you have to stick with us because the store's been surrounded. We have a getaway nearby but they can't reach us until the back rooms are cleared out, so you're gonna have to do exactly as I say. Can you do that?" Your crowbar clattered to the floor as they all brought out their guns again and aimed them at the employee entrance.

Your mind was a chaotic whirlwind of frenzied questions; but you bit them back and nodded, adrenaline rushing through you. "Okay," you said in a choked whisper, not trusting your voice when you were so full of terror. The boy seemed to soften a little and gave you what you thought might've been a reassuring look.

"I'm really sorry for what you're about to see." He warned as he took aim at the door. "Just stay behind me the whole time, and we'll get you out of here. I promise." You nodded again, and he called out a countdown until the three of them broke open the door and stepped inside.

Instantly you were met with a nightmarish scene: six men with red bandanas tied to their arms were in various stages of violence, and you had to stifle a scream when you realized that they were holding the store's owner- and all the clerks- at gunpoint while they ransacked the storage shelves.

The three without bandanas wasted no time in shooting at them, other masked men filing in from different parts of the room. Your hands flew up to cover your ears at the raging noise, cowering behind the boy who'd spoken to you about getting you to safety. You screwed your eyes shut, not wanting to witness the bloodshed, and only opened them when a pair of arms shook your shoulders after what felt like an eternity of gunfire and fighting. It was him.

"Y/N, Y/N! It's alright, you're okay!" He shouted, panicked at the sight of you in so much shock and fear. Your eyes glistened with tears and he tried to talk you out of your panic, grabbing your hands and leading you through the wreckage after the other masked men cleared the way. "Y/N, hey, just keep your eyes on me, okay?" He pleaded, not wanting you to see the gruesome image around the room. "Don't look anywhere else but me. I'll keep you safe, Y/N, don't worry. Just keep your eyes on me." His voice was calming, coaxing you to follow him as he backtracked the both of you out of the scene. You complied and held onto his hands for dear life as he led you away. You held back a gag when a distinct metallic scent invaded your nostrils, knowing without looking that it had to be blood.

You were sure the boy could see the fear in your eyes as he kept his own gaze trained steadily on you; you quickly observed that he was fairly attractive, with a strong jawline and shaggy black hair that hung low over his dark eyes. He was probably your age or barely a year older, as he still had that boyish look to him that you thought must make every girl that crosses his path swoon. You wondered if you would have been one of those girls, too, had you not met this handsome stranger in such a terrifying place.

He looked back over his shoulder before leading you out the back door, and you had to shield your eyes from the sudden onset of the mid-morning sunlight. "Okay, Y/N, we're out. You'll be alright now." He assured you, releasing your hands. You glanced around frantically, expecting to see more fighting, but the coast was seemingly clear. "Who were those guys?" The questions came pouring out of you before you could stop yourself. "Who are you? What the hell just happened here?"

The stranger shook his head as his lips pulled into a thin line. "I wish I could tell you," He said solemnly, "but it's best that you don't know. You never should have gotten mixed up in all this, Y/N. I could just kick myself for not clearing the area of all the civilians before we rushed in." His words only confused you further, with the way he kept referring to you as a civilian; as if he himself was not one. You allowed yourself another question as the boy directed you to the nearby parking garage, the surrounding town still eerily empty. Though you supposed that now you knew why.

"Are you an undercover cop?" You asked him. He immediately laughed, the hearty sound ringing out through the deserted street. Your cheeks grew warm with embarrassment and you suddenly felt silly for asking that. "No, no, I'm not a cop. Although that would make things a lot easier," He said. "The cops don't really like me, or any of my friends, but they don't realize how much work we're doing for them. For this whole town, actually." You cocked your head, hoping he'd say more if only to quell the crazy thoughts racing in your mind. He took in your confused expression and chuckled lightly.

"Let's just say I'm a crime-fighter," He explained shortly. "Me and my friends take out the bad guys." Now it was your turn to laugh, though it came out sounding strangled due to your lingering fear. "So you're a super hero, then?" Your question was rewarded with a bright smile, briefly stunning you as it lit up his face. "Sure, let's go with that."

He motioned for you to turn a corner as you walked; but without warning he winced sharply with pain, and it was only then that you noticed the deep, angry gash running along the side of his neck. "You're hurt!" You exclaimed, pointing to the wound. The boy moved to cover it with his hand, but you quickly swatted them away from the injury, scolding him. "Don't touch it, you might get it infected and then it'll take longer to heal. It's deep enough that you'll probably need stitches as it is." You told him matter-of-factly. He raised an eyebrow, lowering his hand.

"Are you a doctor, Y/N?" He asked teasingly, but the mood dropped when you nodded, telling him that your major was, in fact, studying medicine. You didn't mention how you'd dreamt of being a doctor since you were a little kid. "I'm working on my master's for it." You said simply. You bit your lip before debating whether to continue, deciding the wound looked bad enough to warrant a little help. "I can patch that up for you, if you want." You offered. You always carried emergency first aid with you, and what was one missed lecture anyways if it could save this nice stranger a trip to the hospital? He had quite possibly saved your life back there in the store; you felt the need to repay him somehow.

He looked wary of the suggestion, but after a moment of contemplation, he gave in and sighed a quiet yes. "We don't have much time though," He warned, "the other guys might come back, and we don't wanna be anywhere near here when they do."

You nodded again. "Don't worry, I'll be quick." You hastily shrugged your forgotten backpack off your shoulders and knelt on the pavement, gesturing for him to sit while you combed through the bag to find the kit you needed. You wasted no time in preparing the things you'd need to give him stitches, laying the objects out on top of your bag before readying the disinfectant. You tilted his head to the side to give you better access, and before you could second guess yourself, you were pressing the liquid-soaked cotton to his neck.

He inhaled sharply and balled his hands into fists, and you apologized profusely for the pain. "I'm really sorry, I just have to clean the area first before I stitch it up. This is the worst of it, I promise." You hated how his knuckles turned white when you applied more pressure to the injury; but it had to be done.

He said nothing while you worked, an uncomfortable silence falling over you once you finished giving him his stitches. You had so many things you wanted to ask him, but he'd made it clear that he couldn't give you any answers; so you only let yourself ask one more question, allowing the words to slip out when you handed him some gauze to cover the wound. "What's your name?"

He stayed deadly quiet even after you both stood up. You collected your backpack off the ground and clutched it to your chest, taking a sudden interest in your shoes. The tips of your ears were burning with embarrassment. Why would he tell you his name in the first place? You were probably never going to see him again, anyways. Maybe it was best if you didn't-

A single shot rang out in the once abandoned street.

Instantly, your left arm bloomed with pain, a pain more intense than anything you've ever known before. You cried out and dropped your bag, falling against the boy as you cradled your arm gingerly. Tears made their way down your face and you looked at your arm, feeling dizzy when you spotted the mess of blood and tattered fabric between your shoulder and elbow. The boy grabbed on to your other side and held you to keep from swaying, panic evident in his eyes as black dots started to cloud your peripheral vision.

"Y/N! Oh my god, Y/N, stay with me!" He shouted, alarmed by the rate at which your eyes were blinking rapidly, watching your face begin to go slack. "Hey hey hey, don't close your eyes! Stay with me, Y/N!" He pleaded with you; but the world was steadily becoming more and more blurry. Your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, muffling everything around you as the boy's frantic pleas to stay with him faded into the background of your mind. You felt yourself losing control, but you couldn't fight back, your muscles no longer able to hold yourself up at the searing pain that was already consuming your consciousness.

The stranger let out a shout for help when your body went stiff and leaned fully against him, your eyes closing slowly. The black dots shifted into huge clouds and your mind went silent as you fell unconscious into his waiting arms.

He didn't waste a single second in scooping you up and calling for his team, running towards the sound of men shouting his name. All he could see was the road in front of him, feeling like he was running in slow-motion once the final corner come into view, darting wildly into the street in his desperate effort to save you.

You were light in his hold as the boy sprinted to the getaway location, knowing Haechan was waiting there to whisk everyone to safety as he spotted Yuta waving him over hurriedly from the van. He ignored the burning in his legs as he ran the last few yards, not stopping to catch his breath until you were buckled into one of the seats and the van was taking off. You stayed unconscious as the men stared incredulously between you and the boy, the silence growing all too loud until he broke it with a panicked shout. "Someone call Jaehee to the base, now!"

Johnny complied from the front seat and grabbed the team's only mobile phone in the center console, dialing in a number he knew by heart and raising the phone to his ear.

It rang twice before the line picked up. "Hello?"

Johnny sighed in relief at hearing the familiar voice on the other side. "Jaehee, it's Johnny." He said in a rush, "We need a unit to come to the base ASAP. How fast can you get here?"

Your arm was lifted up by the boy in the backseat where you were strapped in, taking it into his lap and pressing the gauze you'd given him for his neck over your bullet wound while Johnny kept talking up front. He found himself wishing you would wake up, oblivious to the curious looks from the team as he gently brushed your hair out of your face, feeling strangely disappointed when your eyes stayed closed shut.

Johnny hung up and turned to him, giving him a reassuring grin as the getaway car sped furiously towards the underground hideout. The van fell quiet as he waited with baited breath to hear whether they could get you the help you needed.

Johnny nodded softly. "They're on the way, Mark. She's gonna be okay."

Mark Lee gave one last look at you slumped over in your seat, your injured arm still in his lap, cursing himself for not telling you his name.

#beautiful deception #mark lee #mark lee fanfic #nct au #nct gang au #kpop fanfic #nct fanfic #mark lee nct #nct mark #nct #nct ot18

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openheartfanfics · 1 year

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Bryce x F!MC: Fluff

One Shot I-L

I Could Fall In Love - @blackcatkita

I Do - @peonierose Bryce and Luna were invited to Ethan and Hayley‘s wedding. Feat. Ethan Ramsey, The Gang

I Love You - @lahellacute Bryce and Casey walk home after the Boards’ party, and suddenly decide to voice their love for each other... aloud.

I’m a Sucker for You! - @peonierose 💘 Bryce and Luna spend some time on Valentine‘s Day (even though they’re not the biggest Valentine’s Day fans).

It’s a date. - @hannabanana-6 Casey gets ready for her first official date with Bryce.

It’s a Wrap - @peonierose Luna does the Tik Tok towel prank. How does Bryce react? Feat. Keiki Lahela

It’s bad enough we get along so well - @michaelrharrison Bryce thinks she’s pretty no matter what.

It’s impossible to ignore you - @michaelrharrison She ruined what was meant to be a casual arrangement.

Imagines: Save The Date - @anotherbeingsworld What their wedding would be like.

Inauguration - @omgjasminesimone The gang watches Biden’s inauguration.

Incipient - @anotherbeingsworld MC felt herself getting homesick on her departure to Edenbrook Hospital.

Is It Love - @god-save-the-keen MC accepts for the first time her true feelings for Bryce.

I’m Home - @lovella-lah Bryce proposes.

I’ve been excited to see you all day. - @rookie-ramsey MC spends the last day of maternity leave snuggling with Bryce and their babies.

Impossibly Perfect - @storyofmychoices 🎄 Bryce, Olivia, and Keiki are taking a walk through the park on their way to do some last minute Christmas shopping.

Jealous - @hannabanana-6 Bryce flirts with a surgical intern at Donahues.

Jingle Bell Rock - @annekebbphotography 🎄 Amy’s parents walk in and ruin his proposal plan.

Just A Second - @alj4890 A last minute surprise.

Just A Single Touch - @chocopeppermintcake Caroline Bloom’s diagnosis catches up with MC. Takes place during the friends diamond scene in 2.19.

Just like the First Time - @storyofmychoices Sometimes something so small can say a lot about what is meant to be.

Just Temporary - @peonierose Bryce is the best surgical resident at Edenbrook, just like Luna is the best medical resident. What happened when other people discovered they were dating?

Kitchen Wars - @peonierose Making soup turns into a kitchen war.

Ladies Night - @argylemnwrites Cassie reflects on her professional and personal life as she gives some advice to some medical students.

Las hijas de Luna - @peonierose It’s time for Luna and Bryce to welcome their twins into the world. Will there be any complications? Or will the birth go without a hitch?

Last Christmas - @kat-tia801 🎄📅 Last Christmas, Bryce was still coming to terms with his bruised heart. Now, he realizes things might have worked out better than he thought.

Late Night Talking - @peonierose Luna and Bryce find out the gender of the twins and they’re choosing the names. Though is it girls or boys? That’s the question.

Late Night Visitor - @lucy-268 MC turns up at Bryce’s doorstep soaking wet.

Late Nights, New Beginnings - @anotherbeingsworld They went out on a spontaneous night out to play bowling.

Lazy Morning Kisses - @walkerismychoice

Learning New Things - @lucy-268 Maggie finds a recipe and tries it out.

Let Me Paint You - @peonierose Bryce is busy working at their computer when Luna walks into the room and just sits in their lap without saying a word.

Letters from the Past - @anotherbeingsworld MC stumbles to her past letters whilst cleaning especially a particular one.

Life’s Greatest Gift - @anotherbeingsworld MC takes a pregnancy test.

Life is Gourd - @storyofmychoices Bryce and Liv go on an autumn hayride.

Lightly kissing on top of freshly formed bruise - @commander-rahrah

Little Blooms - @eleanorbloom How Bryce and Eleanor react to news that she’s pregnant.

Little Joys - @thefirstcourtesan There is a holiday for everything and Meredith Pierce makes it her mission in life to celebrate them all and to find as much joy as she can. Feat. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (past)

Locked In - @peonierose Bryce and Luna get locked in the medical supply closet. How will they spend their time?

Long Distance - @omgjasminesimone 🩺 Long distance is hard after she leaves Edenbrook. But they finally reconnect after 100 days.

Love Actually Is... - @eleanorbloom ☁🎄 Eleanor is feeling down and Bryce has a very particular way to cheer her up.

Lucky - @storyofmychoices ☁ Bryce and Olivia are adorable idiots in love.

SUBMIT OPEN HEART FICS & WRITERS HERE

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce lahela x f!mc #open heart #open heart fanfics #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #bryce x mc

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monstrumpuella · 2 years

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Thoughts and Predictions for Season 3 of The Owl House

Where do I even begin?

After waiting for almost 4 months since the season 2 finale of The Owl House and with the time I have taken to think about it, I am filled with both excitement and dread to the season 3 premiere. There are just so many places that it can go and it could all happen or not happen at the same time. While yes, there may be some limits given the factor that the final season will only consist three episodes; it is still over 44 minutes each so chances are there may still be some surprises awaiting us.

I am beyond excited to hear it will premiere next month on October 15th and so with that time I decided to put my thoughts and predictions and what might happen in the first special titled "Thanks to Them".

The poster gave me an eerie glimpse of the mystery and horror that we might be seeing with Luz and the gang in this special and I'm not gonna lie it reminded me of these detective stories that I love so much especially with how it highlights the fact that the gang are searching for clues on how to get back to the Boiling Isles and may find more information then they realize. Think Scooby Doo and Over the Garden Wall fused together and this is the vibe you get.

One of the first things I noticed was that the gang were nearly shrouded in darkness and everyone appears that have changed since we've last saw them. Everyone (Amity, Willow, Gus, and Camilla) seem to have longer hair in different hairstyles except for Hunter who is shown to have gotten a haircut which I find interesting. Meanwhile Vee seems to have made an original appearance for herself which I love to see. Luz now appears to be closer to the beta version that she had before making her official debut but I like it! It's a sign of change in Luz from the experiences she has faced and whether it be bad or good has given her time to grow into her own person in trying to find the answer to the questions: Who is she and what does she want?

If the art has any indication of how much time has passed, it could be from a few days to weeks, maybe months who knows. But I believe we're somewhere in autumn as it would be symbolic given how the stories of demons and witches are often associated in this season specifically All Hallows Eve and Samhain, the time of when the realms of the living and dead cross over and if it reveals that it turns out to happen close to or on Halloween, I'm gonna scream happily!

The setting though is what peaked for me as the gang seems to be at a graveyard and it looks like there might be danger lurking out in the darkness. There also seems to be a giant tree in the center behind them which makes me even more curious about it's appearance and what it could mean for the story. Given that the gang are living in Luz's hometown, we might be getting a bit of a history lesson of how and why it's called Gravesfield and perhaps learn about a pair of brothers stolen away by a witch or so the legend says. Speaking of...

We know that Philip Wittebane aka Emperor Belos is still alive and there is no telling what he might do or want which makes him all the more frightening and dangerous. We have no idea if he even knows that he has returned back to Gravesfield but it's clear that the home that he remembered it is no longer the same place when he left. I am very afraid for the gang as they haven't the faintest clue of the danger they're in.

Overall I predict the special will be a mix of mystery and scares as the gang searches for clues on the Wittebane brothers since they're the only humans (that was revealed) that have arrived to the Demon Realm. Their search may lead them to the graveyard where the gang discovers the secret to how the brothers traveled between realms while the once powerful witch hunter who has become nothing more than a monster has come for vengeance on the children that ruined everything. Well that's what I think will happen but there are still too many questions and I haven't the faintest clue to what or where the special could go. Not to mention this special will be only one that will broadcast as the last two will be premiering in 2023.

After all this is just the surface of what the special might have but I believe in Dana Terrace and her crew in making this special absolutely incredible and I can't wait to watch it when it premieres.

#the owl house #the owl house season 3 #toh s3 #october 2022 #toh speculation #toh meta #toh analysis #my thoughts

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alphardofthealley · 3 years

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a masterpost of dates in yuumori

Here I shall gather the dates (and character ages) explicitly given in Yuumori, as well as those implied by the inclusion of certain historical events, to get a sense of what timeline the series is following.

There has been a major update to the proposed timeline here:

On my part, there had been some confusion about how old William was in 1879 (I’d thought he was still a new professor due to Chapter 2 — the grapefruit episode — but that chapter was actually a flashback)

The official character profiles for the Moriarty gang were released in Volume 17, confirming their ages

Someone kindly pointed out that Bond’s birth year (1858) was given in Chapter 17. Combined with the previous two points, it is now clear that the story up to the Final Problem took place during 1879.

As such, you might want to read this post again (^^; As always, feel free to drop me a message if there’s anything wrong/ anything else you think should be included here!

TLDR: Yuumori doesn’t adhere to the real-life historical timeline, so we should just follow what it defines as its own canon. It seems the series up to the Final Problem takes place in 1879, and we’re now sometime in 1882. 1866 is likely to have been deliberately chosen as the year it all began, for a number of reasons.

Note: The manga screenshots were taken from the official English translation.

Spoiler alert: This post contains spoilers all the way up to the post-timeskip arcs!

Dates and ages in the manga

1858

Ch17: Bond was said to be born in 1858 (thank you @methpring for pointing this out!)

1866

Ch1: William and Louis were already adopted by the Moriarty family

Ch1: The original William (Albert’s blood brother) is about to turn 13

1879

Ch1: William narrates his “life story” to his students

Ch3: Frida’s tombstone says 21 May 1879

William’s life story, as told by his students:

Entered university at 16

Became a professor at 21

**During the story up to the Final Problem, he’s 24 (see his character profile in Volume 17 extras)

Discussion

The evidence from Irene

In Chapter 17, Bond’s birth year was given as 1858. In addition, we know that:

They were 21 during Yuumori’s first arc (see Bond’s character profile from the Volume 17 extras)

Bond only joined the Moriarty gang towards the middle of the first arc

So it is now clear that the Final Problem took place over the course of 1879! In fact, a Japanese fan has come up with a proposed timeline for the first arc (see this tweet) up to William’s awakening after the fall.

A note on the sunrise

In Chapter 55, we see that the sun rose right after Sherlock and William fell into the Thames. From Moran’s pocketwatch on page 15 of that chapter, we also know that it was past 5am when Sherlock confronted William on the bridge. So this could mean it was roughly July at this point?

Just putting it out there that at present, I’m not sure where one might be able to find historical sunrise timings to ascertain this. I was looking at modern sunrise timings for the UK here.

A note on Chapter 2

In Chapter 2 (“The One Grapefruit Pie”), it is clear that William had just become a professor at Durham, and the Moriarty brothers were in the process of moving into their new manor. Come to think of it, this chapter is likely a flashback (i.e. taking place when William was still 21, in 1876), since all other evidence points to the present story taking place in 1879.

So how old was William in 1866?

In 1879, William was 24; hence in 1866, William was probably 24 - 13 = 11 years old. This Reddit post also explains that Albert would’ve been 14 and Louis would’ve been 10 in 1866.

Historical accuracy

Actual dates of historical events:

1886 — Construction of Tower Bridge begins (Wikipedia)

Autumn 1888 — Initial Jack the Ripper murders take place, Whitechapel residents form a militia in response (Warning for some gruesome images — Wikipedia)

4 May 1891 — Canonical date of Sherlock and Professor Moriarty’s fall down the Reichenbach Falls (Wikipedia)

The state of Tower Bridge:

Ch54: The bridge still looks quite incomplete

This picture of the bridge in 1892 (Wikipedia) shows it looking similar, but with the suspension cables already built. Hence, the bridge could’ve looked like this in 1890 perhaps.

Observations on the historical dates

Previously we established that the story up to the Final Problem takes place in 1879, but given the historical dates listed above (nearly 10 years after this time range), it’s clear that Yuumori isn’t sticking to the real-life historical timeline.

Then, why start in 1866?

A look on the mangaka Hikaru-sensei’s twitter (

specifically this tweet

) has led me to consider a few possible reasons why 1866 was chosen as the year it all started:

In 1866, Easter fell on 1 April, which is our William’s “birthday” — this fact was highlighted in the tweet above. It could be a reference to how our William was “reborn” with his new identity, just like how Jesus was resurrected on Easter.

1 April is also April Fools’ Day (just like how our William is pretending to be the original William)

“66” could be a reference to the devil’s number, in light of how William compared himself to a demon/devil especially in the latter half of the first major story arc (Ch1-55)

Hence I believe the choice to begin in 1866 was intentional, but it came with the tradeoff that the subsequent historical events referenced were unable to take place at the actual times they did in history. In any case, this is a work of fiction about a work of fiction (the Sherlock canon), so I feel the anachronisms aren’t a complete deal breaker.

Additional note: The first scene of the anime (S1 Ep1)

It is yet unclear why a specific date and location was given for this introductory scene, though Ch59 is starting to provide hints towards why New York was shown. I’ve placed this here for completeness — perhaps it might become significant later on? Only time will tell as the Empty Hearts arc unfolds :3

Conclusion

It seems we are meant to take that the series up to the Final Problem is taking place in 1879 — so after the three-year timeskip, we are now in 1882. Although both the construction of Tower Bridge and the Jack the Ripper murders were clearly brought forward by around a decade, it was most likely a deliberate decision to begin in 1866, rather than an oversight. (Choices were made!)

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #meta

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13-reasons-ideas · 4 years

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Undercover Part 1

A/N: I decided to try a different fandom to branch out a bit. Let me know if you guys want me to continue on with this one. This is a Riverdale story. Please note that I stopped watching the show at the end of season two so I have no clue what is happening now on it. I will still be writing for 13RW, so don’t worry. I am just writing my idea of how an undercover FBI operation works. It may not be accurate. I got this idea from a TikTok. If you like it, it will be a multi chapter work.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and any mention of real people is purely coincidental.

My assignment was supposed to be simple. Go to Riverdale, find the Serpents, become friendly, infiltrate, provide evidence of illegal activities, make arrests, get out. I knew what my role was. I was good at my job. They didn’t put me in organized crime undercover for no reason after Quantico. I had done this many times before over the years. I was prepared for the job, spending hours upon hours researching and learning as much as I could about this small-town biker gang. I knew their patterns, their MO, their hangouts, hell, I knew what they liked to eat for breakfast. I was prepared. Correction, I thought I was prepared. I hadn’t, however, prepared for him.

After a relaxing weekend, I arrived at the office Monday morning at seven. There was a manila folder on my desk and my boss, Special Agent Edward Williams, was waving me towards his office. Oh no. What did I do this weekend that would get me in trouble? I wracked my brain as I took the envelope and confidently walked to his office. He indicated for me to sit. “Good morning Edward.”

“Good morning Catherine.” He greeted before cutting right to the chase, “We have an assignment for you.” I shifted my body to sit up straighter, immediately appearing more professional as he continued. “What do you know about a group known as the Southside Serpents?”

“Just that they’re some small-time biker gang out of Riverdale. They occasionally cause a blip on the radar for something in a neighbouring town. Why?”

“Their leader recently stepped down and appointed someone else to take the reins. He seems to want them to be less small-time biker gang and more of a reaching organization. We aren’t sure exactly how far or deep this goes or what they want to do exactly.”

“So, you want me to go in and find out. See what they want to do, where they want to expand, and if I happen to find anything else I can use, that’s just gravy?”

“Essentially yes. You know how this works usually, but it’s a small town. Your handler won’t be in town with you. You call every night to check in and if something goes wrong, we will get you out of there.”

“Yes, Sir. When do I leave?”

“Two weeks. The basics are in that folder. Memorize it.” I nodded and opened the file, skimming it quickly.

“I see mention of Jones and Jones, but I don’t see a mention of who took over for them?”

“That’s part of the problem. We don’t have an actual name for him. Just that he goes by Sweetpea. Seems like he’s run with them since he was a kid.”

“Great.” I muttered, “I’ll get started now, unless there’s anything else?”

“Yeah one more thing. Due to it being so small, you’ll be in a rental house in lieu of a hotel. It’s quaint little house on the north side of town.”

“Sounds good. What about my alias?”

“You’ll keep your first name and your last name is going to be changed. It’s all in your file.”

“Thank you, Sir.” I nodded, before walking back to my desk and beginning my research.

That was two weeks ago. Today, I was standing in front of a little red house on a quiet street in the town of Riverdale. To most people, it looked like a nice little place where nothing bad ever happened and there was no danger. And for the most part, it was. So long as you stayed on the right side of the tracks. I looked around me as other agents, my partner/handler Jason included, helped to unload boxes of “personal” belongings into the home. It was already furnished, so a small U-Haul was sufficient. I was able to use a few personal photos, non-descript childhood pictures mostly. Most of the others were taken and provided by the bureau. “Drinking” with the girls in one, another agent posing as a family member at a faux family reunion, a picture of a dog. It looked like I had lived some kind of life before today. This way, it wouldn’t look like I had just appeared out of thin air. Or, at least, Catherine Adams hadn’t appeared out of thin air.

While work in the house continued, outfitting the house with internet-and surveillance cameras, Jason pulled me aside.

“Here’s your phone. You keep in contact, got it? I don’t hear something for more than two days, I’m sending people in. I don’t care what Williams wants. Your safety comes first.”

“I know Jace. This isn’t my first time in the field, you know.” I took the phone, saw that he programed his number in as worst nightmare, and laughed. “I might have to change that. I was thinking, Mom and dad’s oops?”

“Ha ha funny. Change it if you want, but if that’s what you pick, the Serpents aren’t who you’ll be tracking next.”

“You mean like at Quantico? I found you in, what? Twenty minutes? It took me longer to write up the mock report afterwards.”

“Shut up.” He grumbled, “but seriously. You’re in trouble, I drop everything and get you out of there.”

“Got it. Now help me unpack so I can go explore and establish myself as a member of the community.”

“Reading the handbook again?” I handed him a photo and he stuck it to the wall with a command strip.

“No, photographic memory, remember? I was trying to be professional. There are strangers in my home after all.”

“I remember all right.” He grumbled back. We worked in silence for a while until one of the other agents came in to say they had everything hooked up and it was time to go. Jason and I hugged goodbye and the group left me alone in the house.

Deciding it would be a good idea to actually do what the handbook said for a bit, I looked in the fridge for some food. Finding it empty, I grabbed my keys and left for the store. The local grocery chain was packed thankfully. It gave me a chance to try to blend in. After an hour or so, I had my cart loaded and checked out. At home, I put things away, made a sandwich, and looked at my files some more. There were pages and pages of notes that I scanned through. Maps of town I had marked up, tracking suspected movements were mixed in with notes about education and background. My mind was becoming overwhelmed slowly. A walk might help clear my head. Calling it a night for notes, I grabbed my sweater and house keys, making sure to set the alarm and lock the door. The crisp autumn air bit at my cheeks and neck. My worn-out combat boots clomped on the ground firmly. I had to be conscious of my steps and make them seem less official. You’re just out for a stroll Catherine. I took my phone out to snap a few photos of the trees turning colour and the sun setting. I must have lost track of how long I stood there or where I was walking because the roar of a motorcycle engine startled me. Rule one is never let your guard down. “Jesus.” I gasped, turning my head.

“Not quite but who knows.” His smooth drawl rang in my ears. My gaze drooped to his bike. Nice. The dirt on his boots seemed dried on. As my gaze traveled upwards, I had to control the look on my face. The tattoo on his neck prominently and proudly peeking out from the collar of his worn-out leather jacket. “You aren’t from around here, are you pretty girl?”

“No. I just moved here from the city.”

“Huh. Well, you ever need someone to show you around, let me know.” He smirked.

“Ask you hmm? I don’t even know your name.” I prompted.

“My friends call me Sweetpea. But you can call me whatever you want. What do yours call you?”

“Catherine.”

“Catherine.” He repeated, his voice dropping an octave as he sounded it out. Almost like he was testing the way it tasted on his tongue. He nodded at me, revving the engine, “my offer still stands, Catherine.” He said before speeding off. I let out a breath after he was out of view and shook my head. Shit.

#riverdale fanfiction #Riverdale #Sweetpea #Sweetpea x OC #Sweetpea x reader #FBI #FEEDBACK PLEASE

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horrorkingdom · 3 years

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First Published: “The Corpse in Coffee Creek-Secrets of Ohio’s Tragic Triangle,” by Detective Otto H. Diskowski, Homicide Squad, Cleveland Police Department, as told to R. Rodgers, True Detective Mysteries, May, 1938.

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CHARLES SALWAY SLOWLY MADE HIS way home across the small culvert over Coffee Creek. His farm was just outside Mesopotamia, Ohio, and almost daily he walked down State Road 57 and crossed the creek to get to his field.

This afternoon of September 24th, 1936, there was an autumn tang in the air. It would not be long before frost would be on the ground and farming would be over for the season. He, his wife and his father had put in a good day’s work out there—the sort of work that gave a man an appetite and made him think longingly of his fireside and slippers.

Salway leaned for a moment on the rail, waiting for the others to catch up to him. Maybe next day he would bring out his fishing tackle and try his luck. Sometimes a man could get a pretty good string out of Coffee Creek.

The farmer’s eyes focused sharply. Directly underneath was an odd looking object. As the man’s family joined him at the railing, he pointed, wordlessly, to the bobbing horror in the water. Mrs. Salway gasped.

“What is it, Charles?” she asked.

Her husband was still staring. “It looks like a man,” he whispered.

Mrs. Salway shuddered. “A man? But where is the rest of him?”

The farmer gulped. “It looks like it’s just his head down there.”

His father nodded. “Yes, I don’t see anybody.”

The trio noted the closed eyes, and the purple, blotched face. Leaving the older man to keep watch at the culvert; young Salway raced for a telephone. “There’s a dead man out near my farm on Route 57,” he told the police. “I’ll wait there until you come out. He’s in the creek.”

Charles Salway returned to the grim vigil. He studied the face of the man in the water. Folks in that section of the country all knew each other. But neither Salway nor his father had ever seen the dead man before.

Sheriff Roy Hardman and Captain George C. Salen of the Warren police, lost no time getting to the scene. Accompanying them were several officers and Coroner J. C. Renshaw of Trumbull County. The farmer flagged them to a stop and excitedly pointed to his find.

“First we thought it was just a head, Sheriff,” he said, “but now I can see where the body is weighted down with something, so that just the head sticks out

It was a grotesque sight that greeted the officials. The water lapped gently against the dead face, tossing it from side to side. Releasing the body from what held it might prove to be a task.

In a short time, dozens of people flocked to see what the excitement was.

The officers, assisted by bystanders, finally extricated the body and laid it out on the ground for the Coroner’s inspection. While he went about his work, Sheriff Hardman and Captain Salen examined the wire with which the victim had been trussed and the heavy concrete slab attached to the corpse.

“Whoever did it,” the Sheriff remarked, “must have felt pretty sure it would be a long time before this thing rose to the surface. But the weight slipped down around the feet and there was enough buoyancy in the body to let the head float to the surface. No wonder it looked like a head without a body.”

“Looks like the fellow was pretty well beaten before being tossed into the creek,” Salen commented. “It’s the kind of beating gangsters give their double-crossers.”

The Sheriff shrugged. There might be some truth in that theory. The spot where the body was found is not far from Youngstown and only about forty miles out of Cleveland. Perhaps some rival city gangsters had been warring. Or maybe the killing was the outcome of strike trouble in the Youngstown steel area.

Coroner Henshaw estimated that the corpse had been in the water a week. There was not much else he could discover without a thorough examination, and the body was taken to the morgue at West Farmington.

After questioning the neighboring farmers and failing to find anyone who had heard or noticed anything unusual during the past week or ten days, the officers went to the morgue to search for a clue to the man’s identity.

Preliminary examination of his clothing revealed little—a few cents and the usual odds and ends. In a hidden inside coat pocket, apparently overlooked by the killers, the officers found a worn leather wallet.

Eagerly the contents were spilled on the table. The clue they seized upon was an identification card of a common type. Unless the murderers had been clever enough ‘to put it there to throw the police off the trail, it should reveal the identity of the dead man. It bore the name of Charles Steffes, Jr., and an address in Cleveland.

There was a space on the card classified “In Case of Accident Notify . . .” And next to it were the words, “Catherine Bunjevac, 1144 East 76th Street, Cleveland, Ohio.”

“Well, boys, that gives us something to start with,” Captain Salen announced. “We’d better get in touch with the Cleveland police and see what they know of Steffes.” The report of the murder came into Cleveland Headquarters over the wire that evening and Detective Lieutenant Jack Zeman took down the details.

He called in Detectives Carl Ziccarelli and Ralph McNeil, who were working on the four-to-midnight shift. “Just had word of a body being found in Coffee Creek,” he told them. “Check up on Charles Steffes, Jr., at 1328 East 53rd Street. And see what you can learn from a girl named Catherine Bunjevac at 1144 East 76th Street.”

Things began to hum. A quick check with the files revealed a record on Steffes. He had been arrested and charged with auto theft about a year before. He had pleaded guilty and, since it was his first offense, had been placed on probation. Further details disclosed he was an auto mechanic and twenty-six years old.

It was hardly the record of a person who might be involved in gang wars, but in the Police Department we learn to expect anything and consider everything a possibility until proved otherwise.

If he were a Clevelander and had been dead a week, perhaps someone had reported his disappearance to the Bureau of Missing Persons. A check-up here disclosed that on Sunday, September 20th, a call had come into the Bureau. A worried feminine voice had reported a disappearance.

“I’m worried about my friend, Charles Steffes, Jr.,” the caller said over the telephone. “I had a date with him last Thursday night and he said then that he’d telephone me the next day.

“He didn’t call and I thought maybe he was sick.” Her voice broke a little. “Charlie always kept his word with me. And when I found out he hadn’t been at work since Thursday and that no one had seen him at all, I got frightened.”

The officer tried to calm her. People, he told her, particularly men, often dropped out of sight for a time. Ninety-nine out of a hundred turned up again in their own good time. But this girl, who gave her name as Catherine Bunjevac, was sure Charlie Steffes had come to some harm.

“He’d never go away without telling me,” she insisted.

The report had been investigated at the time, but no trace of Charlie Steffes had been found. There was no accident victim who answered his description in the hospitals or the morgue.

That is, no one, until Charles Salway had seen the “body-less” corpse in Coffee Creek. It began to look as if woman’s intuition as to trouble had again proven correct. What Catherine Bunjevac had feared had apparently come true.

But supposing the corpse was that of young Steffes, the identification was just the beginning of the job. All we knew was that a girl named Catherine Bunjevac was to be notified in case of accident and that this same girl had reported him missing.

The department began to get busy in earnest. Detectives Ziccarelli and McNeil went out to check on Steffes, at the address in his wallet. This turned out to be a rooming house, run by Rudolph Zupanic. Here, Steffes had lived with his brother.

Both Zupanic and the victim’s brother, when interviewed, insisted they knew nothing of the garage mechanic’s whereabouts. The proprietor of the rooming house eagerly told the meager facts he knew about his lodger.

“Steffes left the house last Thursday night and we haven’t seen him since. He was rather close-mouthed about his affairs and never said where he was going or when he’d be back.”

Steffes’ brother confirmed this statement. “I haven’t any idea where Charlie could be. He just went out and didn’t come back. Several people have been asking for him since he left.” He shrugged. “He might be anywhere.”

His brother seemed to take his absence rather lightly, apparently confident that in due time he would turn up again. At the garage where Steffes was employed, the proprietor had the same attitude.

“He hasn’t been around for a week. Guess maybe he just decided to quit. A little guy came around a couple of times looking for him. Don’t know who he was.”

Was this “little guy” one of those who had called at the rooming house to inquire about the missing man? That was another angle to be investigated.

The garage owner gave the boy a good send-off. “He was a conscientious worker. Seemed serious-minded and said he was saving his money.”

When a young man who has had a previous brush with the law, settles down and talks about saving his money, experience has taught us there’s usually one reason—a woman. “Find the woman” is the detective’s old adage, and often a very successful one. In this case, the name of the woman had providentially been delivered into our hands.

But, before questioning Catherine Bunjevac, the detectives sought Steffes’ sister, whose address they had obtained at the rooming house. She had new information to give.

“Charlie and Catherine were at my house last Thursday evening (Sept. 17, 1936). We had a lot of fun kidding around, but they had to leave early, as Charlie complained he didn’t feel well. I didn’t think it was anything serious, but it did seem that he was worried about something. Usually Charlie was very happy-go-lucky, but that night he was different—acted a little as if he were afraid of something.

“I thought it was my imagination,” she continued, “but when Kate—that’s what we call Catherine—came over here on Saturday, looking for him, I got kind of worried. It wasn’t like Charlie to miss a date. He was crazy about her. Talked about getting married.”

So the girl, whose name appeared on Steffes’ identification card, was more than just an acquaintance.

Catherine Bunjevac’s parents told the detectives that their daughter was out with her fiancé, a Mr. Miller. The officers concealed the surprise they felt at this announcement. Steffes had talked to his sister about marrying Kate, but she apparently had other plans, or at least, that’s the way it looked.

“Do you know Charles Steffes, Jr.?” they asked the Bunjevacs.

Instantly there seemed to be a chill in the atmosphere. “Yes, we know him. He frequently called on our daughter.”

“Was he in love with her?”

“Perhaps. She’s a very pretty girl. Lots of men have liked her. But we didn’t want her to go with that Steffes. He isn’t dependable. He hasn’t any money. Mr. Miller can give Catherine a nice home and an automobile. He’s the kind of suitor for our girl.”

“Well, when she comes in, tell her the police want to talk to her.”

The parents’ faces showed no emotion at the knowledge that police wished to question their daughter. If there were fear there, it was well hidden.

Very early the next morning, Miss Bunjevac appeared at Headquarters. Her parents had been right when they said their daughter was pretty. It was not hard to imagine several young men in love with her at the same time.

As Sergeant James Hogan questioned her, he noted that she seemed greatly worried about her missing friend.

“The last time I had a date with Charlie, he seemed quite upset,” she said. “I asked him to tell me what was bothering him, but he wouldn’t say.”

As the girl talked on, the background of the case became clear. Here was a fun-loving young girl, torn between duty to her parents and her own heart. Steffes appealed to her romantic tastes, but her family frowned upon him.

Miller, she explained, was a name Joseph Csonka sometimes used for business reasons. He was a wall paper hanger whom she had known for a long time, and her parents thought he would make an ideal husband for her. He was the old-fashioned type, the sort who would never give a girl any worries—nor any thrills.

But Catherine Bunjevac had liked young Steffes. He was full of fun, liked to dance and have a good time. He made Csonka seem old and dull. A common enough tragedy, up to that point. But it didn’t tell us what had been worrying Steffes that last night he was seen alive. Could he have been involved in some racket and forced to “take a ride?” Or was it perhaps another woman, whose jealous fury had spent itself on her betrayer?

We discarded the latter theory at once. The very facts of the crime told us it had to be the work of a man. Women do not transport their victims forty miles, and then dump them overboard, with a slab of concrete to weigh them down.

Detective Gordon Shibley and I went to West Farmington to verify the identification of the victim. We questioned several of the near-by residents, but could find no one who knew anything about the mysterious happenings at Coffee Creek. The killer had taken pains to cover his tracks well, and no doubt darkness had hidden his sinister work.

Delve as we would, we could find nothing to tie the victim with any gang machinations. He had, to all intents and purposes, been paying strict attention to business and behaving himself. It looked as if the explanation would have to be found closer to home.

Officers returned to question Miss Bunjevac once more. Over and over she repeated her story of her friendship with Steffes and the last time she had seen him.

“He left me at my house early Thursday evening, as he said he didn’t feel well. I thought maybe he had another date, but then I felt sure he wouldn’t go with any girl but me. He said he’d call me Friday and when he didn’t I was annoyed. Joe asked me to go out with him that night and since I hadn’t heard from Charlie, I went.”

“Did you tell Csonka about Steffes?” the girl was asked.

“Yes, I mentioned it and said I was worried as that was the first time he had ever disappointed me. Joe said not to worry about it; that he’d probably be able to explain when I saw him.”

“Did you often discuss Steffes with your other suitor?”

“Quite often. He asked me, a couple of times to give up Charlie.”

The detectives’ eyes betrayed no particular interest. “Did the boys ever fight about your attentions?”

“Of course not,” was the quick reply. “Why, Joe helped me try to find Charlie. He went to his rooming house and the garage where he worked to discover what had happened to him.”

The little thin man who had “been making such anxious inquiries for the victim, as described by Steffes’ brother and the garage owner, was Csonka, evidently. He had been trying to find the man who had cat him out, in order to set the girl’s mind at rest.

“It was Joe who made me come right down to Headquarters, when we found out you were looking for me,” Miss Bunjevac continued. “He said it was best for me to go right away.”

“How did Joe act the Friday night after Steffes’ disappearance? Was he nervous or excited?”

“Why, no,” the girl answered, surprised. “He never talks a lot, but I didn’t notice him acting nervous or anything. Why should he?”

That’s what we were asking ourselves at the moment. We had two men in love with the same girl. One brash and forward; the other, from Catherine’s description, shy, meek and self-effacing. And the brash and forward one was now dead, his head battered in. I was convinced from what I could learn around Coffee Creek, that Steffes had been killed elsewhere and his body brought out to the lonesome farm area, probably by automobile.

The body had been returned to Cleveland from the West Farmington morgue and County Pathologist Dr. Reuben Strauss went to work to determine what had caused death. What we primarily wanted to know was whether the victim was alive when tossed into the water, or whether it was his corpse that was weighted down and shoved under the culvert.

On Friday night a detail of officers was sent to Csonka’s home on East 88th Street, to question him. It was destined to be quite a wait, as he was not at home. It was five-thirty in the morning before a short, slight man mounted the steps, to be met by a group of detectives.

Csonka evidenced no surprise. He acted as if it were not at all unusual for a couple of officers to be waiting to take him down to Headquarters. He showed no curiosity as to why he must go. He offered no protest, when the men went through his personal belongings. He evinced no embarrassment when he saw his personal letters being read. These included several written, but never mailed, to Catherine Bunjevac.

Those letters seemed to coincide with the man’s colorless personality. He was admittedly in love with the girl, but there was no hint of passion in his letters. They, too, were shy and bashful.

Downstairs in the basement, Csonka showed the same lack of interest, as officers went through his storage closet. The only thing found of any possible importance was a small amount of old wire.

And when Sergeant Hogan began asking him questions that Saturday morning, he realized he was facing a man who was able to conceal every emotion. He presented a bland, expressionless face and carefully deliberated before replying. We had a suspect, it is true, but we had little more on him than any man we might pick up in the street. He was in love with the same girl as the dead man had been—but that was his only connection, thus far, with the case.

The Sergeant, however, continued his investigation. A couple of detectives went out to find Csonka’s car. While they were gone, the report of Dr. Strauss came in and with it, the first ray of light. Steffes had been struck a hard blow on the head, but that had not caused his death. Water in his lungs indicated that he had been alive when tossed into the creek. He had died from drowning. That meant that the murderer, if and when we caught him, would be tried in the district in which the victim died—and those country juries are tough.

We decided to use a little old-fashioned psychology on Csonka. Detective Shibley and I brought him to the garage, and, with Sergeant Hogan and Coroner Arthur J. Pearse of Cuyahoga County, in which Cleveland is located, we started out on the ride to Mesopotamia and Coffee Creek. We were heading for the spot where Steffes’ battered body had been found. We had a little plan in mind and were eager to find out if it would work. The coolest, the calmest, the most collected criminal will often go to pieces when he is forced to revisit the scene of his crime. Dreams often will hound a guilty man into clearing his conscience, but a compulsory viewing of the spot will usually do it more quickly.

We did not do a lot of talking on that ride. Csonka continued to answer politely all questions put to him. Sergeant Hogan encouraged him to talk about himself. He nodded sympathetically when Csonka complained of business being slow. Csonka mentioned that he usually carried his tools—brushes and pails—in his car. Was he in love with Catherine Bunjevac? Sure, sure.

“You know, Sergeant,” he said to Hogan, “I think some gangsters got after Steffes. Probably took him for a ride. You know he was mixed up in some bad company for a while there.”

We did not answer. We were waiting for the psychological moment to outline to him what we thought had happened. But that time had not arrived as yet.

Coffee Creek looked far from sinister in the bright daylight. The foliage was just beginning to turn and the countryside was rich in autumnal hues. Everything spoke of peace, and quiet, restful living. It seemed hardly the spot for violence and death. Yet a man’s badly beaten body had been tossed into that creek and its calm water had taken his dying breath.

I took Csonka over toward the east rail and waited with him while the Coroner and Sergeant Hogan talked things over. I knew what was coming and encouraged the man’s nervousness by a complete silence and apparent indifference as to what was going on.

As the two officers conversed, their voices carried clearly on the still air. Hogan was outlining to Pearse what had happened. Csonka was the only one there who didn’t know that the Sergeant was putting on a little dramatic act.

“I think we’ve got this fellow,” Hogan was saying. “It all links up. Two of my men found his car, took a look in it and what do you suppose they found?”

“What ?” asked Pearse, all interest.

“Blood on the upholstery.”

“No!”

“Yes! And one of the windows was smashed. I think that happened when this bird Csonka swung at him with the brush and missed.”

“Brush?” asked Pearse.

“Didn’t you know we found a heavy paste brush in his car with blood on it? He hit Steffes over the head with his paste brush,” the Sergeant went on. “Again and again he struck him. Then when he thought he was dead, he drove out into the country and tossed the body overboard. He weighted it down to make sure it wouldn’t be discovered.”

Hogan paused dramatically as they came over to where we were standing. “Is that the way it happened, Csonka?” he asked suddenly.

I watched the man who was standing so close to me. I had thought of him as meek and mild—hardly the type to become involved in a murder case. But before my eyes I saw an amazing change take place. As he listened to Hogan’s outline of what might have happened that fatal September 17th, Csonka s eyes glittered. It was almost as if he were reliving the crime, and enjoying it. The meekness was gone and replaced by an expression of burning hate.

Abruptly he turned and faced us. “Sure, I killed him. I did it.”

The confession, unexpected as it was, did not give us all we wanted. We had to have details—proof to stand up in a trial. It was not a Cleveland case, but it was up to us to get Csonka talking.

Once he had started, the paperhanger seemed eager to tell the whole story and get it off his mind. I marveled at this shy little man, who, for more than a week had gone about his affairs as usual, but with a horrible secret hidden behind his meek, colorless face. He had even joined in the search for his victim, apparently seeing this would ingratiate him into the favor of Miss Bunjevac. And all the time he had known that the man she loved and waited for was lying in the cold waters of Coffee Creek, a heavy slab weighting him down.

Csonka opened up in earnest on the ride back to Cleveland. The story was even more grim and cold-blooded than we had conceived.

“I was ready to marry the girl. I wanted her. I was getting along fine and had a good business and good prospects. I could have given her things. I was in love with her and she seemed to like me well enough,” Csonka added, “until that Steffes fellow came along last April. Then things changed.”

I could picture this little paperhanger paying his court more to the parents than the daughter, much as they did in the old country. He loved the girl, in his fashion, and a great rage began working in his slow mind, when he found himself being cut out.

“That Steffes was just a no-good, a bum. I used to follow the two of them around and spy on them. A couple of times I met him and begged him to give up the girl. But always he just laughed and told me to beat it.

“And once,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “he told me Catherine wanted to marry a man. He insulted me.”

Steffes, knowing that the girl preferred him, and with the confidence of youth, had laughed tormentingly at the other man. And with that laugh he had sealed his doom.

“I met Steffes early in the week and told him I knew he had been in jail,” the paperhanger went on. “I threatened to tell the Bunjevacs what I knew, so they’d make Kate give him up.

“Steffes tried to laugh it off, but I told him it was time for a showdown. I told him to meet me Thursday night and he said he’d try to get away early enough to make it.”

That meeting, then, was what the garage mechanic had on his mind the last night his sister and his sweetheart had seen him. The story of feeling ill had been invented to make sure he would get away in time for the meeting he dreaded. The girl’s intuition that something was worrying him had been correct.

The men met by appointment at a beer parlor on East 53rd Street. Csonka began pleading with him to step out of the picture. Steffes drank stein after stein of beer and quickly lost his former dread. The oddly matched couple moved on from one beer place to another. At each they consumed several drinks, Steffes switching to liquor as the night wore on.

Once again in Csonka’s car, they continued the discussion, the murderer said.

“Sitting in the car at East 70th and Quincy. I told Steffes he’d have to give up the girl. He got mad at that, and took out a whisky bottle he had in his pocket. He swung it at me and I got scared. He was bigger than me and I reached in back of the car for my paste brush. I grabbed hold of it and hit him over the head.”

Csonka stopped a moment, as if remembering. A shudder shook his slight frame. He was thinking perhaps of the sickening thud each blow had made on the victim’s head. Then he continued:

“I had to hit him a lot of times before he became quiet. Then I got panicky and pushed his body into the back seat.”

It was evident that Csonka had believed his victim dead after the first blows. He even stopped to change a tire on his car before driving into his own garage.

“I stayed in the garage a while, not knowing just what I ought to do. I was scared someone might come’ in while he was there. And then—” his eyes widened with horror—”Steffes came to life again and started to fight some more.”

I could visualize the terror of the man, as his victim suddenly showed signs of life, when he believed him dead.

“This time I hit him with a heavy iron clamp and he lay still.”

Poor Charlie Steffes. His vitality must have been great, indeed, to withstand a series of such blows. The report showed without any question that he had been still breathing when tossed into the creek.

“I went around the corner to my house and got some wire and a big chunk -of concrete from under our garbage can. I tied him up and then started out to find some place to dump the body.”

And then came the most amazing part of this gruesome story. The killer had driven nearly fifty miles through the night, with the trussed-up body of his victim in the back of his car. And at each bridge and culvert he had stopped. With his flashlight he had peered into the water, trying to determine its depth. Joe Csonka was looking for water deep enough to-cover all evidence of his crime.

#horror #creepy #horror community #creepy photo

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desktopdust · 4 years

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Scrapped Shooting Star Sonia Ideas

After over five years of work, the Shooting Star Sonia series is officially over. Initially I had ideas for it to run a bit longer, but after experiencing some burnout while writing Red Joker I felt it would be best to wrap things up in Event Horizon. Of course, once I get an idea I have a compulsive need to talk about it, so detailed here are my original plans for anyone who might be curious.

Event Horizon itself didn’t change all that much. Information would still be provided about the MBN cores, though perhaps not quite everything; Sirius would have had the xarium rather than Blitzar, so there’d be no Rogue Xa yet and Solo would take the metal back at the end. Naturally, the ending is where the biggest change occurred: originally, someone from Planet XM would express interest in continuing to have Sonia and friends test the Meteor Breaker Numbers, and give them one year to prepare before the experiments begin in earnest. How ominous! Everyone would realize they need to get stronger, and to facilitate that, Sonia would use the EM Compatibility Tuner to interface with the Rosetta Compiler, becoming the new Administrator of the Black Hole Server.

Next thing I wanted to do was actually a super short side story, the obligatory Boktai crossover. More specifically Boktai DS/Lunar Knights, since that’s the one that did a crossover with SF1. Though I never did get into Boktai proper, I always found it neat that Battle Network and Star Force had these ongoing crossovers, and I wanted to keep it going. It was a very basic idea: Sabata ends up in the SF universe and gets possessed by an FM-ian (I believe I was thinking Vulpecula?), so Django follows and teams up with Sonia to stop him. No one would be showing off their new powers here, it’d be too soon for that, but there’d probably be hints.

The main event would’ve been Shooting Star Sonia 4: Rosetta Orbit. (A Rosetta orbit occurs when an object is moving fast enough to not be sucked into a black hole, but not fast enough to entirely escape its pull.) A year has passed, and so Planet XM begins dispatching a series of Meteor Breaker Numbers for Sonia to fight. I thought the major bosses all being on par with previous final bosses would be a cool way to raise the stakes, and I went with two themes when designing them: the seasons of the year, and other Mega Man series. For instance, the first MBN to appear would have been Vernal Ronin, a skeletal samurai robot meant to evoke Mega Man Legends (it’d look Reaverbot-esque, it’d been observing the heroes from the moon for some time now) and spring (“vernal” means spring, samurai are associated with cherry blossoms which only bloom in spring). I also wanted each MBN to be accompanied by an XM-ian who had some sort of reference to the Roll of the respective Mega Man series, though I had done less work on that. (Vernal Ronin would have been overseen by Cophin, an excitable engineer.) The other MBNs were Estival Rampart (summer, ZX), Autumnal Specter (autumn, Zero), and Brumal Transgressor (winter, X), with a recurring boss in the form of an XM-ian named Aeim who fought by operating a separate entity named Solstice_Harbinger.XM (EXE). Ultimately, the gang heads to Planet XM to find the newest MBN, the Equinox, which has been enhanced with all the data gathered over the course of the story and resembles the Yellow Devil from Classic.

On to transformations, Solo would obviously unveil Rogue Xa at this point, and I liked the idea of Geo working with the Sages of AM and WAZA to merge the Star Forces into a single, absurdly powerful form inspired visually by the unused concept art for an Angel Tribe On. With Geo and Sonia no longer needing the Ace and Joker Programs, I thought it would make sense to pass them on--have Bud take the Joker Program and Luna take the Ace Program. Sad to say I never got to the point of designing these forms, but I think it would’ve been fun. Also, I was contemplating the idea of Zack operating Magnes similar to a Net Navi, probably also developing a way for him to enter a controlled version of his Spade Magnes form; I wanted him to be involved and this seemed like an easy way to do it. There was also the possibility of Jack wanting to help and becoming a new iteration of Acid Ace, but I didn’t come to a decision on that. Other than that...I think Shepar was also going to have a way to temporarily take on the form of Chalice Libra? Everyone else was kind of on their own.

Now then, Sonia...as I said, she’d be drawing power from the Black Hole Server, which is powered by Adha. The last time she used this energy to transform was when she held the OOPArts, and I wanted to tie back into that. So, similarly to then, Sonia would draw on the Black Hole Server using the EM Compatibility Tuner, and then use the power of her Brother Bands to get it under control. These forms, called Orbits, would change her appearance and abilities to be similar to the Wave Form of the specific Brother she’s calling on at the time, probably with some design elements from Sirius thrown in. I wanted one for each element and was planning Luna Orbit, Bud Orbit, and Claude Orbit...but was at a loss for an Elec form. Since Gemini didn’t stick around I didn’t think giving her a Pat Orbit would be a good idea, and Couronne doesn’t have a Hunter and thus can’t make a formal Brother Band. I could’ve ignored that restriction, or found a way to justify her Band with Zack giving her a Magnes-based form, but nothing was ever decided on. However, just like with the OOPArts, this power would have sometimes run wild, causing Sonia to enter a berserk state and forcing one of her allies to hit her with her elemental weakness to shock her out of the form. For this reason, she would exclusively stick to forms that have elements...until the final boss. The Equinox would adapt throughout the fight and develop ways to counter all four elements, so with no choice, Sonia would use Geo Orbit to get a form combining Mega Man’s powers with her own, defeating the Equinox and saving the day. Then, she goes berserk. Her friends would find a way to calm her down eventually, of course, but this would sort of make Sonia the true final boss and I thought that was kinda neat.

So, with the pinnacle of the MBN Program destroyed, the XM-ians would be kind of freaking out--here’s where we’d get the full story of the origin of the program, and how it was originally meant to protect Planet XM in case a certain angry god ever showed up. Sonia being Sonia, she’d say that if anything happens, she’ll protect them. The XM-ians are moved by her kindness, and decide that maybe they should stop building war machines after all. After that, there were two more small things I wanted to do, either as two short stories (4.5 and 4.55, I think?) or as two Epilogues for RO. Firstly, that thing Planet XM is so afraid of would show up, and what do you know, it’s Duo.EXE! When I was planning for Red Joker I remembered how, leading up to SF3’s release, there were a bunch of theories that Meteor G had some connection to Duo, and I wanted to do something with that. The ultimate story then (and this holds true to an extent for the final product as well) is that Duo’s violence in the name of “justice” only spread pain and fear, which led to the XM-ians developing the MBN cores to fight against him, which only led to more pain and fear through their own actions as well as through the cores ending up in others’ hands. It’s an ongoing cycle of violence that is only broken when Sonia steps in to convince people to try a peaceful solution. Capping it off with Sonia the idealist versus Duo the extremist, probably resulting in Sonia helping Duo to grow beyond his programming and be more productive than destructive, seemed like a fitting, fun way to go. After that, I just wanted to have one last fight between Sonia and Solo--Geo Orbit Harp Note vs Rogue Xa in deep space to finally settle their rivalry! I didn’t decide a result, but it definitely would’ve involved Solo properly opening up and telling Sonia he respects her and all that.

(Also a very specific joke I wanted to use in RO and couldn’t find a good place to integrate into this post: when the head of the MBN Program is explaining it to Sonia, she’d say they still have MBN-001 through 008 on display, but only have records for MBN-010 and up. Sonia asks about MBN-009, and her guide scowls and says “We don’t talk about number 9.” You know, referencing the other Mega Man.)

(And, there is one other idea I had, a spin-off to shift to after resolving the history of the MBN cores, but it’s detached enough that I think I can turn it into a standalone story in the future so I want to hold onto it for now. Probably best I take a break from writing Star Force for the time being, but I really like the character designs I thought up for this one, so one day, I hope to put them to use.)

Once again, I want to thank you all for your interest in Shooting Star Sonia--I hope I was able to entertain you! It was a bit rocky at times, but in the end, I’m glad I embarked on this journey, and I’m eager to get to work on a new one. Until next time.

#Shooting Star Sonia

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dcbbw · 4 years

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Coming Attractions

It’s that time again, when I take a random look at what I’m working on and where I am with it. Below is a list of all my works in progress as 2/6/2019.

Series:

Aftermath of a Breakup/DC AU—the gang are just regular folks living in Washington, DC. Chapter 4 will post soon. Also, I play to write a Day One, detailing how the gang met. It may be part of the series, or a standalone wacky drabble.

Anton—The leader of the Sons of Earth and his cohorts may be locked away, but that doesn’t mean his plan to take over Cordonia is finished.

Autumn in New York—Riley Brooks and Damien Nazario were an item, until Riley ran off to Cordonia after a chance meeting with Crown Prince Liam. Riley returns; Liam follows. Eros is involved. What’s gonna happen? Currently, only Chapter One is available, but progress is being made on Chapter 2.

Goodnight, Moon (Driam) –the lovers try to get in last moments and all the love before the Engagement Tour ends. We are currently up to Chapter 3 (Applewood). Chapter 4 will be Italy.

NightFall—Set in the Riam AU, five years in the future. Someone is trying to kill the King of Cordonia. Who? Why? And are Riley and the children safe? We’re up to Chapter 3. Chapter 4 is coming soon!

Object of Affection—Liam loves Olivia, Olivia loves Drake. Riley is the choice at Coronation. How to make my OTP fall in love? We are currently up to Chapter 5. Chapter 6 will post over the weekend.

Secrets of Cordonia—My version of Cordonian history taking place over three generations. We are currently up to Chapter 2.

Sunday Brunch—my shitshow soap opera where Drake cheated on Liam with Rashad, who is in a relationship with Neville. Drake also cheated on Liam with Riley, who was married to Liam and in a relationship with Maxwell. Riley is pregnant and it could the baby could be Drake’s, Maxwell’s, or Rashad’s (there was a threesome). Rashad is also seeing Leo. Who is sexing with Madeleine and Adelaide. Folks get caught, conversations are had, and shit is hitting the fan. We are currently up to Chapter 9.

The Commoner’s Wife—Riley is married to Drake out of a sense of misguided obligation. She and Liam are still desperately in love, but she doesn’t trust Liam’s love because of past actions. Drake wants to fix the marriage because he’s in love with Riley. There’s a kinky, latex loving Princess who wants a marriage with Liam. When we left them last, Drake and the Princess had caught a very naked Liam and Riley in the act. We are up to Chapter 5 with this, and progress is being made with Chapter 6.

Timing—does anyone remember this series? LOL This is my first series, and it is my take on TRR events. It really isn’t in chronological order, but we are up to Chapter 15. I am getting back to this fic, and we will pick up the night of the Costume Ball. There will be character death.

Riam:

Dinner with Friends—A very hormonal Riley has dinner with Liam and their friends at her favorite Chinese restaurant. There is random conversation (including Pixelberry and baby names), waitress kissing, and an argument.

One Big Happy—A(nother) peek into family life.

Rendezvous in Ramsford—Remember at the beginning of TRR Book 2 when Riley didn’t hear from anyone for over two weeks because of the scandal and Liam choosing Madeleine? What if Liam snuck over to Ramsford for a late night talk and “other stuff” before he and Riley meet in Fydelia?

Untitled--In Shanghai, Liam gives Riley the pearl bracelet. She thanks him with smut. She may or may not tell Liam she kissed Hana the night before.

The Not-the-Nanny Interviews—Riam looks for a nanny for their twins.

Multiplicity—what if all my Liams and RIleys met for lunch at the Beer Garden?

The Drake Wave:

Twenty Questions—Drake and Riley get to know each other while stargazing in the snow.

Houses of Cordonia—Drake and Hana find themselves spending an unexpected amount of time together during the royal couple’s honeymoon.

Untitled—An unlikely friendship develops between Drake and Penelope.

Laxwell / Liara / Maxwell & Kiara:

I’ll be keeping up with Laxwell (Liam x Maxwell) via #WackyDrabbles, holiday compilations, and the occasional one-shot.

Liara (Liam x Kiara) has become its own little mini-series; Madeleine has effectively put a halt to the divorce proceedings and Liara’s love story by becoming pregnant, apparently by Liam. This Queen is not going quietly, if she leaves at all.

We’ll get updates on Maxwell x Kiara (who are now officially a couple!) via #WackyDrabbles, holiday compilations, and the occasional one-shot.

Miscellaneous/Crackships/One Shots:

A Night at the Opera—Maxwell and Adelaide spend time together at the Paris Opera House.

Untitled—this idea is still brewing in my head, but it will be a crackship featuring Rashad. Still debating if the other half will be Madeleine or Liam.

A Very Social Season—Threesome between Riley, Liam, and Maxwell the first day of the social season, right before the Masquerade Ball

A Box of Chocolates—Valentine’s Day compilation; if I am ambitious enough, it will include all of my pairings. No promises.

A Tale of Two Couples—What happens when AUs collide? @sirbeepslot’s Driam meets my Riam.

Wife Swap—Burnsy’s Dralyssa and my Riam agree to play on the television show Wife Swap for charity.

Shortlisted:

This is a project I am turning over in my head; it probably will see the light of day, but not immediately.

The Regatta—follow-up to Cold Heat. If I follow my usually MO (and Beeps’ suggestion), this will become a mini-series.

A huge THANK YOU to all of my readers and followers for sticking with me and finding my writings worthy of your time and consideration. Thank you for your patience as I juggle work, catching up on your amazing works, and hopefully writing entertaining fanfic for you. Thank you for your support, encouragement, and friendship.

I love and appreciate it (and you!) more than you know!

#WIPS #my wips #coming attractions #choices fanfiction #long post

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hortascountrysidenotes · 4 years

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Seasonal Shift

There is a distinctly different feel in the air and the look of the countryside. Gone are the lush cool greens of May and early June, and we have arrived at the beige season - ripening corn and rape, early stubble fields, pin pricks of yellows and browns on tired bits of foliage. Hot drying winds, dust in the air from the harvest and the sounds of the combine never far away. The nights are still warm and the slightest drop of rain brings high levels of humidity and a heaviness that saps the energy and brings forth beads of sweat very quickly with the slightest exertion!

We have now moved into another chapter in the long saga of Beck Farm with the official ownership of the wood, and last night we celebrated the grand opening when some dear friends who are staying up on the coast with a gang of youngsters came over and cut the ribbon at the entrance. We toasted the wood and wished it well and enthused over the possibilities it brings. We have been reliably informed by the Tree Officer for our local council that no permissions are needed for felling any trees, so fire up the chainsaws and away we go in late October. Hedge planting and new trees from the end of November and a development of the path system following a rudimentary cutting yesterday to give us a weaving walk to the top.

Speaking of councils, we have enjoyed the improvement in the state of the verges in our locality and wild flowers have actually had a chance. Alongside the small lane running from the back of Brisley to our neighbouring parish Bilney is a lovely selection of wildflowers including the now endangered and on the red list Harebell. I have been watching this patch every year get systematically blitzed by an idiot cutting the verges, just as they were at their peak, and therefore someway before they would have set seed. This year it looked as thought we might see success but no...... very early yesterday morning we could hear the destruction unit at work and when I walked the dogs along, not only had they cut all the flowers but they had managed to scalp a good deal of turf and smash into a portion of the rather nice hedge. I couldn’t bear it so as I had my phone I went through all the pain of Press 1, 2 or 3 etc to find the right department, and to my complete amazement got a real Hero!!! He told me who the contractors are, explained they have been expressly asked to leave the verges this year until a certain point and only do important roads where safety is at issue. He assured me he would send this higher up the tree so I am encouraged. Luckily a small patch of harebells escaped the sword so at least they will get to seed. My faith in human nature was restored until the next time!

The garden is much the same save for the dahlias bursting with colour and the borders look great plus the new Kniphofias are flowering and having hated the ubiquitous red hot poker all my life, the new range of soft tawny browns, oranges and yellows are actually very good and make good accent plants. Autumn raspberries in full production, apples are swelling which reminds me I still have not thinned the pears, and I have got the bolted lettuces out now so the veg patch looks better. The wallflowers have been sown - and have already germinated. We have a huge crop of walnuts developing - the squirrel is definitely still about and gave me a considerable shock when the other morning hearing a commotion above our bathroom window, I encountered a squirrel’s tail and foot showing in the gutter - where it then went I do not know but Miss Horta reports a bit of movement in her ceiling so I am on the warpath. Next week I shall cut down all the summer jasmine which is near the bathroom window in case it has been creeping up through that - more to follow on this one!

Mavis is ever larger - we now have the whelping box ready and some new vet bed. Dan has made the panels for my puppy pen so for the moment all we can do is wait. Having managed to take the top off my thumb on Thursday I am glad we still have a bit of time as I am not very dextrous at the moment and certainly would struggle with the hot water and towels bit.

A lovely morning training with mates today - except one dummy I threw into a bramble bush again and simply cannot see so it may have to remain till the leaves come off, and the other which I put out last night with 4 others has completely disappeared - I think the foxes do move them as I have had this happen before - presumably as they smell of dog they need investigating, but I have even taken the chubby one with her super nose to look and it simply is not there. Scout came along just to watch as the outing was more for young Elsie Grimwade and very sweet and slightly nervous Dot Broughton - both are doing so well and it is super to see Elsie’s enthusiasm and brilliance in finding everything, alongside Dot growing in confidence and happiness everytime we go out. We shall all meet again on Thursday at a proper training evening with our Welsh Wizard friend Julian who runs great sessions. Mavis will hopefully be able to join in again about 6 - 7 weeks after whelping.

Hedgecutting time looms yet again, second flushes of roses should begin to kick off in about two weeks time - Maigold is already flowering again, deadheading is paramount for all the herbaceous plants particularly dahlias. Sweet peas are still going thanks to a bit of rain, so worth feeding and watering one more time to prolong them. Keep feeding containers and of course tomatoes. Keep picking beans so they keep producing - dont let the courgettes sneak up! Honey production today - estimate 100+ jars so not bad.

HORTA

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azaffranist · 5 years

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An absurdly long Frozen 2 theory - The Land of the Mist

You think I was kidding with this meme, right? No. I don’t mess around when it comes to Frozen 2 theories.

I spent my free time wisely and finally brought together this theory I’ve been thinking about for a while now. After the release of the official trailer I can gleefully announce it wasn’t violently contradicted and I was able to expand on it, too.

Summing it up before we start, it’s about the repeated presence of mist in the Frozen 2 trailers, and how it is closely related to Scandinavian myths, namely elves, who are said to live in a parallel world. It also covers the topic of spirits as representations of the four elements.

I don’t want to murder anybody’s dashboard with 2k words and multiple images, so I put a safe ‘keep reading’ right after this. The following are the topics we will be covering, and if you want a very, very short tl;dr with just the basics, just jump straight to the conclusions:

The Introduction

The Elements

The Hidden Folk

The Pink

The Mist

The Conclusions

Keep in mind that this is just a theory that might be potentially proved wrong by the following trailers and sneak peeks (ihopenot), but this is what I could grasp from the information we’ve got so far. Also, I wrote the vast majority of this before Annecy, so a few details might slip by...

With this said, let’s get started!

The Introduction

In the Frozen 2 teaser trailer we can see the Arendellian gang gazing over the fabled autumn forest filled with trees and rivers. But in the Frozen 2 Official Trailer, we see a very similar shot, almost mirror-like, of the past scene, and this is where everything begins.

Clearly, they’re not in the same place. One has trees, the other one doesn’t; one looks magical and mystical, and the other just… doesn’t. While it is a beautiful scenery, it just doesn’t hold up with the other place’s visuals. It’s like an E3 vs Actual Game comparison.

It’s of interest that Iceland, which seems to be the place they’re taking the most inspiration from, looks really similar to the scenery seen in the image above. For instance, this is Þingvellir in autumn:

These places look… really similar. And the shots above are basically mirrored versions of each other. So that leads me to believe that the spotlight of Frozen 2 so far, the autumn forest, is located in a magical realm hidden by mist.

It seems that this ‘portal’ the Arendellian royals found needs magic to be activated; as Elsa touches the mist with her hand it starts opening. We don’t know yet if any kind of magic can open it, so for now, let’s say that a magic wielder needs to be in contact with it. (Keep this in your head because it’ll come in handy later.)

But as soon as the gang goes through it, the mist closes in on itself, covering everything up, even the stones, and if I’m not wrong, they’ve already disappeared:

So we have this sort of mirror dimension made reachable by some kind of mist portal and surrounded by 4 stones with the famous symbols that have made us lose our minds. Thankfully we now know thanks to bath bomb merch (and confirmation by Annecy) that they represent the 4 elements: Earth, Air, Fire and Water.

And before we discuss the mist (because that’s another whole topic) let me pull up an unpublished theory that miraculously survived the official trailer and analyze the symbols and their meanings together.

_________________________

The Elements

The four elements of alchemy are the following and feature strikingly similar designs to those of the ice crystals. We are going to be using them to decypher the ice crystals’ meaning.

The easiest one to tell is the top right one which bluntly establishes its connection with the earth symbol.

The rest are not so straightforward, but there is something interesting in them. If we ‘cut’ the crystals in half, we will realize some of them are ‘fragmented’ in some way in the top triangle or the other, and some are not. Those fragmented correspond to air and earth, and the ones that are not, correspond to water and fire.

I know I’m totally not making myself clear so here’s what I mean:

This way, top left symbol would mean fire, which is not so unlikely considering that it could mimic the look of a flame rather than a water drop. Bottom right symbol, also known as Anna’s symbol, would mean air: and if we take into account the strange merchandise we’ve seen lately, this would make sense, considering Anna is always surrounded by leaves in one way or another. Anna’s color scheme and emblems also match with the ‘air’ theme, which is represented in the Frozen universe by leaves flying.

Bottom left symbol (dubbed Elsa’s symbol by many) would mean water. With enough imagination we could assume that it is an ice crystal what’s shown in it. And last but not least, the top right symbol means earth.

So, it makes enough sense for now. But we have things unresolved. That is, Anna’s strange symbol, her sudden affinity with the air and Elsa’s connection with the Nokk. And this is when Frozen LA comes into play.

“If you use the force of nature in your favor, it will be on your side.”

I don’t think Anna has powers, for many reasons. First and foremost, it would be very predictable, cliché and lazy writing in general, something I don’t think the Frozen 2 creators are aiming for.

Secondly, why didn’t they manifest earlier? We know very little about the magic system in the Frozen universe but it seems that there are two kinds of magic users: cursed and born with them. Anna evidently wasn’t born with powers. Now, if we say that Anna somehow got cursed with wind powers, that would be a bit more interesting. But I doubt it’s the case. And if we’re being real, Elsa already can sort of control wind with her own powers, creating storms and the like.

What I think is that nature and its force plays a major role in Frozen 2. We have already been officially introduced to the Nokk, a water spirit Elsa will have to prove her worth to. And in the Frozen 2 Official Trailer, we’re shown what looks like the spirit of Earth, a rock giant who doesn’t look friendly at all:

Then Fire. After the last trailer, I don’t think anybody’s controlling that fire. Spirits, so far, seem to be just spirits; creatures that control themselves. We know Nokk is a shapeshifter, apparently, and maybe the other spirits can shapeshift, too. But if there’s anything I have to say, is that the fire doesn’t look natural in the slightest even when we’re talking about elements of nature, so it might be wrongfully influenced by a villainous figure? I don’t know, just throwing a semi-theory there. We’re coming back to this later.

Last but not least, Air. Air has been confusing. The way it is represented is by the flow of leaves through the air. ��In this scene in the teaser, the kids are in a forest, and I really doubt any of them are controlling the wind. The girl looks surprised; the boy has a bunch of leaves point to him and throw him up in the air. Unless there’s a third human character in this scene we’re not aware of, I’d say the wind is not controlled by anybody, at least in this particular scene; so again, it controls itself, like a force of nature.

Now knowing that Anna is connected to the air element somehow and Elsa to the water through the Nokk, is that these scenes that follow one another in the teaser, now have a whole new meaning.

Anna is lost in a rocky cave. Elsa is fighting against the fire that encircles her.

Air versus Earth, Water versus Fire; the opposite elements, facing each other through Anna and Elsa.

Another convergent idea is that there might be people that represent each of the elements and interact with the spirits; think of guardians, for example. Each of them would have a certain affinity with a specific element. We could say from what we’ve seen that Anna has an affinity with the air, Elsa with the water, and who knows what the other characters are.

If the Nokk is a mythical being that represents water, it’s not out of question to assume that the other elements also have a connection with real life mythology.

We can find an interesting individual in Norse mythology. Quoting Wikipedia:

In Norse mythology, Fornjót was an ancient giant and king of "Gotland, Kænland and Finnland" meaning Gotland, Kvenland, and Finland Proper.

His children are Aegir, (the ruler of the sea), Logi (fire giant) and Kári (god of wind).

As you can see, this is the Norse mythology interpretation of the elements. We’re missing the Earth element, who would be Jörð, personification of Earth. How closely Disney is going to follow mythology is unknown to us, but considering there is going to be a whole book dedicated to the myths, I’d say that they are taking this very seriously.

__________

Now, let’s get back to our initial topic. I believe this forest they find in the teaser is the fabled magical land where the spirits of the 4 elements reside; where Elsa’s powers came from, and where she should’ve had that ‘life she was supposed to live’. We see people that look very similarly dressed to the Unknown Girl in the teaser:

Sami, seemingly light brown clothes, boots and sash. But there’s far more to these people than at first glance, and this brings us to another topic…

_________________________

The Hidden Folk

The first connection to this mythological race was not made by the fandom but by the Broadway show itself, in which the rock trolls are replaced by the Hidden Folk. So let’s start with what our friend Wikipedia says about them:

Hidden people (huldufólk) are elves in Icelandic and Faroese folklore. They are supernatural beings that live in nature. They look and behave similarly to humans, but live in a parallel world. They can make themselves visible at will.

Remember what we said in the introduction? The Arendellian gang enters a magical realm covered by fog...

Clearly, the Hidden Folk as we see them in Frozen Broadway won’t make an appearence in Frozen 2, because they represent the trolls from the movie. But the connection is interesting, and there’s even more to it.

Idunn mentions being one of the children of the Northern Nomads in the Broadway show, implying that she was not born in the royal family but rather married into the throne. This is further confirmed by the fact that in Frozen, we can see Agdar, the heir to the throne having his coronation; Idunn isn’t a royal, or at least not an Arendellian royal. She came from somewhere else.

And if we take into account the Polish leaks, Idunn is the Unknown Girl from the teaser, further strengthening the bond between these people we see in the autumn forest and her.

Thanks to Annecy spoilers, we know that Agdar visited the enchanted lands and was left “traumatized” by something that went terribly wrong. But more on that later...

__________

I told you to keep in mind the ‘gateway activated by magic’ in the introduction. Okay, so we’re saying that Agdar visited this place in his youth (and probably met Idunn here) but we’re overlooking something.

How did he make it to the forest at all? I doubt anybody who’s not proficient with magic would be able to open the portal. I mean, the portal didn’t open up by itself; Elsa touched it with her magic. So either:

a) Agdar has powers

b) He went with someone who did have powers

c) Some other convoluted reason

d) We’re thinking too much into this and the autumn forest can be accessed without going through any weird portal

I think I’d go with b. But you judge that.

__________

The other connection, as I have said, is the Sami. The Sami people inhabit Lapland, a region encompassing Norway, Sweden, Finland, among others. We know that Kristoff is basically one of them, and one of their most prominent occupations is reindeer herding.

The teaser trailer showed Kristoff guiding a multitude of reindeers, and with the official trailer showing us that there are people who actually live in the forest, the idea is much more clear. There are Sami living in the forest, or at least Disney’s interpretations of them, which may be synonymous or at least have a connection with the Hidden Folk or whatever name they’ll receive in Frozen 2. Remember Northern Nomads was a term used in Frozen Broadway, and Sami were originally nomads...

So, I really tried coming up with an actual theory for those suspicious looking northern lights Idunn looks at but I failed. Sorry. The only idea I have is that Idunn is talking to Elsa after the accident and telling her her own version of the origins behind her powers, and maybe, just maybe, those unnatural northern lights represent Elsa’s sworn enemy, pink.

Yes, pink. Purplish pink or pinkish purple, to be exact.

_________________________

The Pink

Pink has always been a problem for Elsa. The night of the accident, she was shown terrible imagery that’d scare her for life; her adult silhouette is absorbed, consumed by this purple mass. “Fear will be your enemy,” Grand Pabbie said.

Later in her life, we see that whenever Elsa is feeling emotions relating to fear and despair, her ice cracks and turns a shade of pinkish purple. We all get that. But now. Why, for the love of Nokk, why is the fire pink? Nokk looks alright, just like water would look. The earth giants too. I don’t see anything strange with the wind other than it is… wind. But the fire is pink, for a reason we don’t know yet.

The sky turns pinkish after the accident. Why is literally everything that is bad for Elsa represented by pinkish purple?

And I have no definite answer for that. If I have to throw an idea, it’s a prophecy. A manifestation of sorts that just wants Elsa to stop breathing, which may be related to the presence that left Agdar terrified and Arendelle cutting relations with these northern lands. An inherited ‘curse’ of sorts, that may give us a new point of view of why Elsa’s powers were kept in secret. Maybe her parents really had something to fear. A legitimate reason to lock her away, as harsh as that sounds.

For now, let’s leave that in an ominous tone, and talk about the mist. Oh, the mist.

_________________________

The Mist

As we were saying before, the Hidden Folk are basically synonymous with elves. They are invisible (hence, hidden, huh), magical, and are not exactly humans, in the sense that they don’t meddle in their affairs, and live in a parallel world. We have already seen the ‘parallel’, ‘mirror’ symbolism with the gang gazing over the lands, but here’s more, if we insist.

(Pss! Don’t wanna break it to you, but autumn forests just aren’t that beautiful. These ones are magical and misty.)

What elves look like varies from source to source. But they are very closely associated with mist, and live in meadows, mires and forests.

Quoting Wikipedia further:

The elves of Norse mythology have survived into folklore mainly as females, living in hills and mounds of stones.The Swedish älvor were stunningly beautiful girls who lived in the forest with an elven king.

The elves could be seen dancing over meadows, particularly at night and on misty mornings. They left a circle where they had danced, which were called älvdanser (elf dances) or älvringar (elf circles).

If a human watched the dance of the elves, he would discover that even though only a few hours seemed to have passed, many years had passed in the real world. Humans being invited or lured to the elf dance is a common motif transferred from older Scandinavian ballads.

Humans being invited or lured to the elf dance is a common motif transferred from older Scandinavian ballads.

lured to the elf dance

Yeah, that’s not the face of someone who wasn’t lured.

Okay, okay, okay! I’m sorry if I got too excited about this and saying that Elsa got seduced by the dancing and singing of an elf is perhaps taking it a bit too far. But hear me out. Letting go of my no-crazy-speculation filter for a bit, I’d say that an elf/spirit was the one who incessantly sang to Elsa (remember, female singing), lured her into her dance showing her wonderful imagery of the spirits of the four elements of the parallel world, and then made her release the ice crystals (magic that has been building up for a long time) and go haywire. But you judge that…

What I mean to say is that I think that this concept of elves (maybe not called elves inside of the film, but at least the concept) and their relation to the mist are going to be present in Frozen 2. I’ve been thinking about mist for the past two months and this is the first time I manage to include it in a theory. I’ve wanted to -and will- say something that will sound stupid for a long, long time but I don’t care because it’s worth it. An image I stumbled upon while researching through elves. It’s called ‘Chasing after Hildur’.

It’s from a myth starring Hildur, the Queen of Elves. I’m not going to explain the whole myth, it’s not really relevant; but please, just look at that image. It’s more visual than anything, and it is that it looks ABSOLUTELY EXACTLY THE SAME LIKE THE MOMENT WHEN ANNA JUMPS OVER THE PRECIPICE.

And I’m using all caps because I mean it.

Is Anna chasing after the queen of elves? After a common elf? After the elf like creature that lured Elsa into the dance?

Might be a huge cosmic coincidence, may not be, but summing it up? Frozen 2 has elves. Yeah.

_________________________

The Conclusions

You’re finally here. Aka, Tl;Dr. And for the sake of not repeating ‘this might be’ and ‘probably’ every 2 seconds, I’ll sound really confident.

Maybe:

Frozen 2 features a beautiful parallel realm whose entrance is reachable when a magic user activates it. This is the autumn forest we see in the teaser trailer, contrasting to the more regular-looking place near the end of the official trailer.

The ‘Land of the Mist’ is the home of the Hidden Folk, elves, and the four elements of nature, who are sentient and are represented by four mythological beings. In these lands, magic comes and goes. But something terrible happened, and the harmony between the inhabitants and the spirits is no more.

This is the truth they are looking for; the origin of Elsa’s powers; she should’ve lived in this hidden realm of the hidden people, and nowhere else.

Idunn, her mother, secretly comes from this realm, and in Frozen 2, the sisters will learn about the family they barely got to know, and will have to prove their worth and fight an unknown evil yet to be revealed who Agdar already faced.

Elsa is the only person in the world who can bring the harmony back to the Land of the Mist and unify the four elements before it’s too late.

/Maybe.

Wow, I’m tired.

(It’s fall in my country, by the way, can’t do that.)

This is the furthest I managed to get so far with the help of 3 minutes of footage, Annecy and bath bomb leaks, and I’m sure even more theories are going to come to light as more days pass and the Frozen 2 trailer settles down in people’s minds. Might give some quick little update to this if something new comes up...

Would love to hear your theories and opinions as well! I’m sure we won’t stop till we inadvertently spoil ourselves the whole movie.

Goodbye and Happy Theorizing!

#frozen 2 #frozen 2 theory #frozen #frozen 2 spoilers #frozen 2 theories

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mam-te-moc · 5 years

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Overanalysis of a French poster

@fozziewazxi hinted that analysis of a situation with deciduous leaves and coniferous trees in the French F2 poster is necessary.

So here we go 😀 Warning: spoilers, speculations and silliness ahead!

The French poster is a dangerous one because it's one big spoiler full of metaphors. At the first sight it's innocent enough, the gang walking Abbey Road style along a lake in a calm winter scenery. Then we notice that the lake is red, or rather the reflection that can be seen in it is red. Or to be precise, the reflection of the landscape: a forest and mountains is red, while traveling characters and the sky keep their original colors.

Said trees in the background of upper part of the picture are spruces, coniferous trees indeed, covered with some snow, like the rest of the landscape. In a real world they never go red, unless on fire. The only red thing on the upper part of the picture are deciduous leaves floating around the gang. Some deciduous trees have leaves that naturally turn red-ish during autumn (and by breeding there are plants created with permanently read leaves), but we see a winter-ish weather here (the lake is not frozen so temperatures must be kind), so any leaves are under a snow.

The obvious interpretation that comes to mind is that a red reflection represents the mystic forest, another dimension world the gang is traveling to. And that the floating leaves are a part of this other world.

The next thing that get our attention is a travelling order of the gang. Elsa leads, then goes Anna, Kristoff, Olaf and Sven. It most likely shows importance of characters. Not surprising, we've been predicting from a day one that F2 would be focused on Elsa more. She has still half an hour of screentime to catch up to her sister, not to mention other reasons like a main protagonist swap. This time Anna is a second protagonist, Kristoff is a solid supporting character and Olaf and Sven are still sidekicks. Everything makes sense until we realize that the first person on the poster is not Elsa, but these floating leaves. They actually are dominating the gang, starting in front of Elsa, going through the whole group and ending behind Olaf and Sven. And when we think about it, these leaves accompany the sisters from the very first picture we had of F2. A Russian calendar leak anyone?

I must admit, when I first saw this pic, I dismissed these leaves. It was a calendar, the month was November, in my native language meaning "falling leaves", so I assumed that it was a seasonal thing. A big mistake.

Now, taking in account how characters are portrayed depending of their importance (including Frostplanation of colors), main characters are in front and red is a main color.

We know that four elements will be represented by spirits in F2. We saw all of them. And while we all are focusing on Nokk, the water spirit, it looks lite the important one is the air/wind spirit.

It -they? because I think we should start to think about spirits as persons, accompanies the sisters on official and leaked art from the begining and is placed forefront, so we won't miss it.

My gay mind tels me that these leaves are actually not red and nicely cover all colors from a lesbian flag, but looking for Elsa's girlfriend always end with a burn, so following the trend, I suspect that the wind spirit is actually connected to her mom. It looks like it's the only spirit that is friendly, at least we haven't seen them going against Elsa, unlike the rest.

Long and complicated analysis made us suspect that a wind spirit is represented by a crystal with the same symbol that can be seen on Anna's coat, the one with flipped background. Why a wind spirit is associated with Anna? Again, a family connection sounds like the best guess for now, because we know that Anna most likely won't have any special powers like her sister.

Back to a French poster. The alternative world represented by a red color brings alarming association with a danger. Does it mean that this world is dangerous for anybody visiting or that something bad is happening there and the world is in danger, is unstable, is "burning"? Finally, if red is a wind spirit's color does it mean that this alternative world is dominated by this element? Something happened that caused elemental unbalance? Or an eternal fall - while a four seasons theory seems more and more unlike, a lot of fallen leaves help to visualize a wind spirit like nothing else.

BTW1 If you think that US or Japanese posters are free from a wind spirit, you are wrong. In the first one you can see it in the very foreground, represented by some calm red leaves and in the second one leaves were replaced by snowflakes.

BTW2 Does it count as a contribution to Frozen II appreciation week, day one: ancient magic? 😀

#frozen #frozen 2 #analysis #frozen2 #frozen 2 speculations #frozen 2 spoilers #frozen 2 appreciation week #elsa #anna

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alexthegamingboy · 4 years

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Toonami Weekly Recap 03/14/2020

Sword Art Online: Alicization: War of Underworld (Alicization Exploding) EP#33 (09) - Sword and Fist: With the decoy force heading through the dark territory towards the World's End Altar, Emperor Vecta orders the Pugilists and the Dark Knights to pursue. Sheyta Synthesis 12, otherwise known as Sheyta the Silent, considers herself to be cursed with the ability to cut anything she touches, no matter how hard the object is. Iskahn, leader of the Pugilist Guild, considers himself to be uncuttable by any object imaginable. During the pursuit the Pugilists catch up with the decoy force, and Sheyta stays back to hold them off. She goes up against Iskahn and a hard battle ensues with Sheyta wounding Iskahn with her paper thin sword. With a drawn out stalemate, both fighters gain a mutual respect for each other and she withdraws back to the decoy force. At the end of the first day's haul, the decoy force setup camp to rest. Unknown to them, Vassago has been lurking and secretly takes out a few men in the camp. When he spots Ronie and Tiese as his next target, the Goddess of Creation, Stacia, descends from the sky and protects them. However, just before he got swallowed by the ravine, Vassago recognized Asuna in the glowing light.

My Hero Academia Remedial Course Arc Season 4 EP#79 (16) - Win Those Kids' Hearts: Katsuki and Shoto attend a special Hero License course, having both failed the second phase of the last exam. There, they encounter Inasa and Camie from Shiketsu High School, and the four are tasked with winning the hearts of Masegaki Elementary School children. All the while, Endeavor has a serious talk with All Might about being the Symbol of Peace.

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind EP#18 - Head to Venice!: Giorno tricks Baby Face Jr. into merging with Melone's motorcycle, then uses the spark plug to ignite the gasoline and cause an explosion, destroying him and returning Bucciarati and Trish to normal. Giorno then uses Baby Face Jr.'s components to create a poisonous snake which tracks down and kills Melone. Bucciarati's gang then finds instructions to use Moody Blues to receive the boss's final orders. Moody Blues transforms into Pericolo who, having been speaking to no one, had planned this method to ensure the orders couldn't be intercepted. Pericolo said to recover a data disc at Venice Station which contains further instructions, then killed himself to keep the information secret. Giorno and Mista drive towards Venice while the others remain in Coco Jumbo; however, Ghiaccio, another Hitman Team member, catches up with their car and attacks them using the freezing ability of his Stand White Album. They manage to shake him off by combining their Stands' abilities, but Ghiaccio catches up again and uses his Stand as both armor and ice skates. In a desperate move to defeat Ghiaccio, Giorno drives their car into a canal.

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba Natagumo Mountain Arc EP#20 - Pretend Family: Tanjiro collapses from his wounds and crawls towards Nezuko, who has fallen and isn't moving. He smells blood behind him and realizes he normally smells ash when demons were killed by his sword. Rui stands and puts his head back on. He tells Tanjiro he cut his neck with one of his own threads when he realized he would be decapitated by the nichirin sword, which would have killed him. Enraged, he encircles Tanjiro with threads to mince him, only for Giyū to arrive and save him. Giyū congratulates Tanjiro on holding out until he arrived. Rui throws a sheet of threads at Giyū, who uses Water Breathing's eleventh form (there are only ten officially) to shred them when they reach him. Giyū then beheads him. As the Daughter runs, she remembers when she was being chased by Demon Hunters and saved by Rui, promising to join his family. Rui fed her some of his blood, giving her her current appearance. There were many siblings Rui had shared his blood with and he insisted they pretend to be a family. If they did something Rui didn't like he'd punish them, sometimes by wounding them, other times stringing them up and letting the sunlight kill them. Thus the numbers decreased to five. The Daughter comes across Murata and ensnares him in a cocoon filled with acid that will liquefy him, only to be knocked to the ground by Shinobu. Shinobu asks her how many people she's killed, saying (smiling all the while) that once she tortures her appropriately for all the people she's killed (gouge out her eyes, rip out her organs, ect.), they can be friends and her sins will be forgiven. The Daughter refuses so Shinobu uses her Insect Breathing to approach and cut her neck with her sword. Shinobu's sword is sharp only at the tip as she lacks the strength to behead demons. However, Daughter dies seconds later from the wisteria-based poison Shinobu invented and coated her sword with. Shinobu then frees Murata. Tanjiro makes it to Nezuko and drapes himself over her body protectively. As Rui dies, he thinks he made the pretend family because he had no memories of when he was human, and he thought if he could feel a familial bond, his memories would come back. He looks upon Tanjiro and Nezuko, wishing he had what they had.

Food Wars: The Second Plate Totsuki Autumn Election Arc EP#33 - The Sword That Announces Fall: The finals begin, and Alice reminisces on the many cooking battles she's had with Kurokiba. After only half the cooking time, Kurokiba presents his dish, a cartoccio cooked with herb butter inside film bags. Next, Akira presents a seared carpaccio, using fire to unleash a powerful aroma from a single spice. Finally, Soma presents his dish, Salted Rice Bran Pacific Saury Rice, inspired by Fumio's pickles. Just as it seems his dish has failed to impress the judges, Soma brings out his dish's true edge.

Black Clover: Elf Tribe Reincarnation Arc EP#109 - Spatial Mage Brothers: The elf Baval, possessing Golden Dawn member David Swallow, threatens Kirsch, Mimosa and En, pointing out the elves power and the fact that Langris, possessed by the most twisted elf, Ratri, has made it to the Clover King. The Clover King arrogantly declares he will defeat Langris with his Royal Magic but he is easily and embarrassingly defeated. Finnes is saved from Ratri by Finral. Yami throws Finrals parents through a portal while Finral promises Finnes he will survive. Jack cuts through the castle wall, sending the King falling to safety. Jack figures out a way to cancel Ratri's automatic defence. Jack and Yami almost knock Ratri unconscious but he goes on a rampage instead. Finral recalls he and Langris have never actually fought each other as Finral always ran away, and now Ratri is distracted. Finral succeeds in teleporting him directly in front of him and Finral knocks him out with a simple punch to the face. Inside Langris' mind he and Finral reconcile as they both pass out. Patry arrives at the floating dungeon and meets the elves Droit (right in french) and Eclat possessing Gauche (left in french) and his sister Marie. Rhya reveals that due to an unknown reason Licht's memories have not fully returned and he has once more fallen asleep. Patry reveals the final stage of his plan, to place a final magic stone in a tablet deep within the castle, wiping out all humans and making the elves reincarnations permanent, a stone that is on Yuno's necklace.

Slightly Damned Page 954: https://www.sdamned.com/comic/954

#Toonami #Toonami Weekly Recap #Sword Art Online #Sword Art Online: Alicization #Sword Art Online: Alicization: War of Underworld #alicization exploding #My Hero Academia #Remedial Course Arc #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind #Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba #Natagumo Mountain Arc #Food Wars: Shokugeki no Soma #Food Wars: The Second Plate #Totsuki Autumn Election #Black Clover #Elf Tribe Reincarnation Arc #Slightly Damned

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myeongchokrp · 5 years

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PROFILE LOADED • • • 《 RYEO SOLJU 》

“On the surface, RYEO SOLJU is a twenty-six-year-old PART-TIMER. Dig a little deeper and you’ll discover that she’s also a HITMAN that goes by the alias AURORA. Her allegiance lies with PHOENIX.”

TW SUICIDE, PARENTAL DEATH, GUNS, BLOOD, MURDER

《 WHO ARE YOU? 》

“When life gives you lemons, Ryeo Sol-ju,” the little girl’s father spoke in a mellow tone, “do your best to squeeze them into people’s eyes.”

At that time, Sol-ju could not grasp the meaning or the message her father tried to convey. For one, she was only three years old and, two, it was her birthday — a day of celebration, not cryptic messages and even more dubious presents. To this day, she can vividly remember her small hands cupping the ripe, yellow fruit her father gifted to her, with confusion deeply set in her brown eyes as she stared at the tall figure of her father. To her befuddlement he responded with a smile, one that he showed to no one but his one and only daughter.

No, at that time, she had no idea what his words meant but when she turned fifteen, she finally understood.

Two weeks after her 15th birthday, life gave her a lemon made of steel and she learned that its nectar was, metaphorically or otherwise, faster than light itself and most importantly – it was effective and explosive. The day she was supposed to take her own life, just moments before her parents would perish at their own will instead of succumbing to the will of their captors, Ryeo Sol-ju discovered her lemon, hiding under the sofa, and she fought for the life she must have been meant to keep.

The lemon’s name was Glock 21 and it followed her every step for years to come, after she shot her way out of her family home where her parents’ bodies remained.

Despite her strict upbringing and violent climax, Ryeo Sol-ju never thought of herself as a person struck by tragedy. Rather than linger on what was, she decided that by continuing her parents’ heritage she would honour them far better than she ever could with tears and mourning. Raised to never look back unless she is danger, Sol-ju is as clever as she is resilient, and she has no interest in settling for less if she would be greatly inconvenienced.

She had learned early on that, should one follow a path of righteous violence, one must be willing to risk everything, including their own life. Yet, despite that, one could never describe her as careless. She might have got it from her mother, really, for Sol-ju never lets her guard down and she can rarely be found without an escape plan from any situation (or location). While she comes off as cold at times (merciless, even, was a word some used to describe her), she is certainly not detached from her humanity and soft spots hide somewhere deep inside her heart. One would just have to be determined, and patient, enough to dig deep and long to find them.

《 HOW DID YOU GET HERE? 》

Looking back, Sol-ju thinks it comical that at the most crucial point of her life – namely two weeks after her 15th birthday – it was death that offered her the most important choices. The first choice was taking the suicide pill she had been grasping behind her back, or dare to reach for the handgun discarded under the sofa and risk everything for the infinitesimal possibility of escaping.

After locking her eyes with her father, whose quaint but reassuring smile told her that while he and his wife had to perish and would do so within a moment’s time, Sol-ju was meant to live. It had all been planned. Without a chance to bid farewell to her parents, Sol-ju took her cue and chose the second option — throwing, and then rolling her body towards the sofa, while her father worked on a short-lived distraction, Sol-ju reached for the gun and fought for her life. The last of what she’d seen of her parents was her father getting shot by the officer and her mother consuming the cyanide. The last of what she’d seen of the officers was the four of them attempting, much to their incredulity, to subdue a petite teenager, yet failing as their bodies fell back or forward after being shot. The last of what she’d seen of herself while still in her family home was a dirty, exhausted and terrified face in the broken mirror, and a messy hair soaked in sweat and blood. The last of what she’d seen of her house was an image of a fire’s rage consuming all under its path.

How is it possible that a fifteen year old child managed to take down four government officers, one may wonder? The thing is, she was never an ordinary child.

Today, she goes under the alias Aurora, and a number of fake names. Her current, official name, as listed on her documents, is Kim Sarang, and her birth place is listed as Pohang, South Korea. And although her official (and philosophical) alliance does not lie with any known anti-government organisation, the CIA, NIS, and Mossad have classified her as a ‘political terrorist’ who is known to have aided the war fronts, as a mercenary, in several countries.

Yes, who is she?

She is Ryeo Sol-ju, born October 1992, in a small North Korean village near Manpo city, to dissident parents. It was a village so small that it did not even deserve a name. It was her home, yet it was also the beginning front of her battleground. Ryeo Sol-ju’s maternal grandfather was a decorated Korean War veteran who fought for the North’s forces for years, having left his wife and five children behind for the sake of blind, political ideals. One of his two daughters would be married off to an officer, one would die young of tuberculosis, the eldest son would marry off to the city, one would become a family doctor, and the youngest of the sons, Ryeo Myung-soo, would take up a life path directly opposite to his father’s.

Ryeo Myung-soo would become a rebel. He, with a handful of well-armed, intelligent, dissident high school classmates, would found North Korea’s small, but insidious ‘terrorist’ cell named ‘Saeui Nagwon”, a more literal interpretation of the flower ‘strelitzia’ which, ironically or not, symbolised liberty. The cell was meant to overthrow the government and restore prosperity in the country. In 1991, Myung-soo married a woman from their organisation and they welcomed their one and only child in the autumn of the following year.

Named Ryeo Sol-ju, the daughter was raised into the life of her parents and their dissident allies, whose numbers dwindled as the years went buy. The first lesson Sol-ju learned from her parents was that of the ‘lemon’, and the second was how to fire a gun. She was only six years old when she learned how to operate a pistol, eight and a half when her mother started teaching her the art of thievery, ten when she started taking up combat skill lessons and eleven when she was taught about the ‘suicide pill’.

Sol-ju was somehow never too young to understand. She studied Korean history, and politics, religiously and all that her father taught her made perfect sense to her. When she grew up, she wanted to be just like her parents. In her eyes, they were fighters (and protectors) of freedom and the fact that they were involved in the deaths of their opponents – all government officials – unperturbed Sol-ju. The government was the enemy, after all.

Sol-ju never stopped believing that. At fifteen, when the government’s officials captured her mother, father and herself in their small, village home, Sol-ju thought that death was inevitable. Either she took the pill or she allowed herself to be publicly executed. Yet. In the last seconds she found salvation – a Glock 21 abandoned under their sofa.

She was the only one to come out of the ordeal alive yet this did not stop her. She was immediately taken in by the remainder of Saeui Nagwon and further trained into who she would become before turning twenty - one of the most infamous, Asian mercenaries. By that time, Ryeo Sol-ju already found herself on the North Korean authorities’ list of the ‘most wanted’, yet every time the officials got remotely close to her she would slip away from their grasp.

At twenty, when Saeui Nagwon’s numbers dwindled but to a dozen members, Ryeo Sol-ju was sent off abroad, where it was hoped she would be more successful in aiding others fight against their respective, oppressive governments. Saeui Nagwon was losing its grip in North Korea, but it did not have to mean the end of the finest of its members who could escape and promote their political ideals elsewhere.

She spent five years fighting abroad before being summoned back to Korea. After such a long time in war, she had difficulty adjusting to ‘normal life’, but the normalcy, unsurprisingly, lasted for a very short time. Now wanted by international agencies accusing her of terrorism, Sol-ju knew that if her father’s organisation was ever to rise again, the remaining seven members would have to go in indefinite hiding until they could reunite for one last strike. That was how she ended up as a member of Phoenix — the gang’s brand new hitwoman who seems to have sprung up out of nowhere. While only a select few of the gang’s high-ranked members know who she is, everyone else knows her as either Aurora or Sarang, a sporty and quirky arms enthusiast.

#mi:accepted #mi:phoenix #kim jiwon #kim ji won #gang kpop rp

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lostinthe-pines-blog · 6 years

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Senior Fear Ch. 2 - Fears Revealed

This is a multi-chapter story about Autumn with the Hartfeld Gang. Halloween quickly approaching they attempt to celebrate. As they begin their senior year the dynamics will change like the weather, will they be able to face their fears, both commercial and literal?

NOTE: This is a fictional story based on Pixelberry’s Choices App. *Books The Freshman, The Sophomore, The Junior. I am not affiliated with Pixelberry nor do I own the rights to their original characters or story-lines. This story will alter certain story-lines.

TAGS: (I’ve tagged anyone who followed my last multi-chapter Chris fic. Please let me know if you’d like to be removed.) @jared2612 @katurrade @annekebbphotography @emerald-bijou @jellybean-marshmellow @jollybouquetangel

The smells in each coffee shop all a crossed the world are unique. They are based off of which way the beans are roasted and even more uniquely what the most popular drink to that shop is. The campus coffee shop always had a distinct smell of dark roast coffee. Probably to ensure these hard working college students had enough energy to get through their mornings, days and even late nights. Besides the collection of money for tuition and books the coffee shop was one of the biggest money makers on campus. Everyone flocked here, it wasn’t just MC and her group of friends; it was everyone. But when the shop was quiet, it was dead silent. Zig had spent many hours sitting alone surrounded by the white walls with peeling decorations, and today was no different.

“I’m taking my 15.” Zig spoke to his young redheaded freshman coworker after the morning rush cleared out, “To be honest, it will probably be a 20.” As he walked out the back door of the shop he pulled out his phone scrolling through a group text including his entire extended family. He’d missed maybe 50 messages throughout the morning. He sat on the curb behind the shop, reading updates about his young cousins first weeks of school and his grandma’s chemo treatments. He sees and fears how short life is just in those few text messages and thinks carefully about where his life is headed. All of his best friends would be graduating this year… she would be graduating this year.

His mind wanders to her, her laughter fills his thoughts. Her smile comforted him even when he was imagining it. He pictures her vibrant grin close to him her lips leaning to meet his own. He’s instantly pulled out of his boyhood day dream when he hears his name being called.

“Zig!! Good to see you!” Chris shouts reaching a hand to help Zig stand. Chris stands tall above him, a gym bag tossed over his shoulder, his smile unnaturally inviting.

‘It’s almost like he knew.’ Zig says in his head before officially responding to the quarterback himself. “You too Chris.” he responds flatly, taking Chris’s hand and standing at his side, hoping Chris wouldn’t catch on to his disappointed tone. How was he supposed to explain that Chris had interrupted a fantasy daydream he was having about Chris’s own girlfriend.

“How was your summer, you stayed behind for school right?” Chris genuinely wondered. Chris was very fond of Zig, they owed each other a lot. Zig was the perfect candidate for Chris’s ‘Second Chance Scholarship’. Without Zig, Chris would never have had the elevation he needed to launch the scholarship and gain the trust of the schools leaders. And with out Chris, and his scholarship Zig would probably still be the lost, street wandering, misunderstood rebel his DNA made him. Chris had truly given him a ‘second chance’.

“Yeah, I took a few extra classes, hoping to catch up on things I missed. You’re all graduating this year, I’m hoping I’ll be in my final semester by this time next year.” he responds proudly. He knows the polite thing to do would be to ask Chris how his summer was, but he holds his tongue not wanting to here tales of MC and Chris outside lighthouses on the beaches of Maine.

“Zig that's great, really. I’m so glad everything has worked out for you.” Chris responds letting silence fall between them. There was always somethings so secretive about Zig, Chris didn’t bother to find out what it was. He always just assumed it was one of the many characteristic traits of the Ortega family. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” Chris responds taking a few steps away. Knowing their parting was awkward to more than just him he turns back. “Zig, if you ever need anything, MC and I will always be there for you.” he says nodding his head and turning away again heading off to the football field.

Zig looks back down to his phone realizing his break has ended, his time to day dream was over. He lived in fear that Chris would find out about his thoughts, or that MC would find out an reject him. He loved her so dearly but feared them both so deeply. He shoves his phone angrily back in his pocket and heads back into the small coffee shop frustrated and not rested at all after his twenty minutes.

MC carries her book-bags crossed the quad, thinking of yesterday's memories with Zack. Forcing herself to stay positive to not think about all the ‘lasts’ she would be having this year. Living in the moment, even if the moments were killing her. Her eyes wander to the falling leaves and Halloween Decorations that were starting to appear around the buildings. While she’s walking she feels someone approach her from behind, turning to check her paranoia she quickly spots two of her closest friends. “Kaitlyn, Abbie!” she yelped.

“Happy Halloween!!!” Kaitlyn yells hugging her friend

“Kaitlyn it’s September 10th” Abbie protests “There’s still 11 more days of summer!”

Kaitlyn rolls her eyes playfully “Yeah summer ended the second I put down five hundred dollars for books to classes I don’t actually want to take.” she responds playing off her friends reminder.

MC can't help but grin at her friends bickering. She loved them dearly, but always found herself in the middle of their senseless fighting. Abbie and Kaitlyn knew each other just as well as Zack and MC, they had a friendship bond that only the grueling years of classes and homework can bring. “Happy Halloween” MC responds back to Kaitlyn “And Happy end of Summer” she offers a response to Abbie as well.

“Happy Hallo-Summer!” Abbie jokes getting nothing more than a pity laugh from her friends of four years.

“So I heard you’re hosting the Halloween Party this year?” Kaitlyn asks satisfied with the decision.

“Chris and I are, yeah…” MC trailed remembering being ‘volun-told’ to run this party rather than volunteering. “Zack so graciously bestowed that duty to us.”

“Well what are you guys going as for Halloween? I don’t know how you’re going to top Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor from last year” Abbie giggles. Abbie was clearly envious of Chris and MC’s tight bond. Especially after the events of Junior year, her relationship with Tyler was rocky. She feared the end of her relationship was near. Junior year left petite curly haired artists to wonder what commitment was actually like, and she saw it in her friends picture perfect love.

“We haven’t talked much about it, but I’m sure we will think of something!” MC responds sensing the yearning and almost jealousy in her friend.

“Okay it’s our last Halloween Party! Please make it the best one yet!” Kaitlyn cheers “I’m talking spiders skeletons, blood, gore, I need all of it okay! It’s Halloween and I won’t stand for cutesie jack o lantern and candy cutouts!” Kaitlyn protests the parties of years past.

“You’re welcome to decorate if you’d like Kaitlyn, Chris and I honestly have no idea what we’re doing.” MC explains continuing to walk crossed the quad, her friends quickly following her lead. “I’m going to meet up with him now should I let him know you’ll take decorations?”

“YES!” Kaitlyn exclaims so excitedly she almost sounds angry. “This will be the best Halloween party yet!”

“One condition Kaitlyn, no clowns!” MC says sternly back to her enthusiastic friend.

“Wow okay Mom, no clowns… Why?” Kaitlyn asks arms crossed defensively against her chest.

“Because I’m terrified of them.” Chris’s voice responds as he approaches them.

“What!” Abbie spits “The start quarterback of the Hartfeld Knights has a fear?” she teases him as Kaitlyn join gawks at him shocked.

“Yes.” Chris responds almost proud of his fear. “I hate clowns, and they don’t belong in this holiday, they can stay at their circuses.”

MC is quick to wrap an arm around Chris, to not only support his fears but to let his body heat calm her own. Calm her fears of losing memories like this after the years end. They were like a well oiled machine now. Their movements with each other keeping them in-sync, pushing and pulling perfectly together. She looks up at her radiant love, three years and she still felt like she was looking at him for the first time. His blue eyes shining in the autumn sun. Her stomach twisting peacefully when his eyes meet hers. She’d never been one for public displays of affection but being with him she understood why people did it, though she’d hold back to make sure her friends were still comfortable around them. Looking into his eyes was like having a full conversation, the rings of his bright blues clearly telling MC how much he’d missed her today.

“Alright then” Kaitlyn responds in acceptance, “No clowns… anything else I should avoid?”

“Tyler is afraid of Zombies…” Abbie trails softly

“Tyler?!” Kaitlyn reacts confused “Tyler, the comic book, video game nerd? Is scared of Zombies… I’m pretty sure he was always watching Walking Dead freshman year…”

“Yes, he likes Zombies but he’s actually terrified that they are real. When those rumors about the bath salt zombies came out he freaked out.” she explains for her sheltered boyfriend.

“Those weren’t rumors” Kaitlyn protests “they really ate people's faces..” her tone so casual it’s almost disturbing. Creating silence among their friends.

“Alright Kaitlyn... “ Chris chimes in awkwardly. “I trust you’ll be able to decorate perfectly without Clowns or Zombies..” he laughs tightening his grip around his lover. “I look forward to seeing it but for now would you ladies mind if I stole MC for the evening.”

Abbie and Kaitlyn look to each other shrugging. “Go for it.” they say in unison while quickly hugging MC goodbye. The sounds of their bickering fading away as the get farther and farther from Chris and MC.

Once the pair of friends was out of sight Chris looked quickly down to his beautiful best friend. Her hazel eyes and auburn hair almost glowing from the sunset. He was forever entranced by her beauty. Chris wasn’t afraid of showing emotion, he’d never understood the male stereotype of being hard faces and strong. He loved her, she weakened him, strengthened him and surprised him all at once. He wasn’t ashamed of letting his love show. After staring for a long moment he pressed his lips to her forehead softly.

“How was the first day of classes?” he asked quickly beginning to lead her on their long walk back to their apartment. MC had started classes while Chris had only had to report to the field for credit today, their days had held very different challenges.

MC rolled her eyes “I’m getting severe senioritis and it’s only day one. Though, my French Literature class did have a surprisingly intriguing syllabus for the first semester!” feeling her excitement taking over she beings to explains her course load. “We are going to start in the 19th century, a weird choice for a literature class since normally they want to fill in the history of writing. Anyways we’ll be reading at least 5 major books just this semester and a collection of poems by Charles Péguy from the ‘modernism’ period!” MC noticed a blank stare on her loves face realizing she’d let her excitement get the best of her again. “Sorry.” she laughs embarrassed burying her face into his strong shoulder. Pulling back immediately at the smells coming off of him. “Yikeeees! Chris!”

His laughter so loud she could feel it vibrating on his flawless skin. “MC no one asked you to stick your face there.” he mocks. “I didn’t have time to hit the shower before meeting you, I figured I’d do it when I got home.” he teases her moving to acknowledge her embarrassment from before. “Also, you shouldn’t be sorry” he says reassuringly. “Look I don’t know french, or really much about France or their writers but I’m excited for you to teach me about it.”

As they continue walking through the falling leaves and setting sun she’s silent, he’d tried his hardest to validate her excitement from before but he can feel her body tense up, this wasn’t the first time he’d noticed this in the past weeks. The first time he felt her turn to stone around him was on their long drive back from Maine. He didn’t want to pressure her or force her to talk to him if she wasn’t ready. But something had clearly been eating at her. As they arrived at home he opened the door letting her walk in first. The smell of their house familiar, a mix of MC’s morning coffees, Chris’s laundry detergent and the vanilla scented wall plug ins mixing together to create the scent that was so authentically theirs. Without a word MC heads to their room closing the door. An off behavior for the girl who was beaming only a mile ago. He decided to let her have her time taking a quick shower alone, though he’d hoped it wouldn’t be.

MC sits on the bed remembering again Zack asking her to live in the moment, but every sight reminded her that things were beginning to end. When she was feeling the most comfortable her mind would wander to where she would be in a year. Would she be happy, would she be with Chris? She was only 22 years old. Her whole life was ahead of her but she was terrified of what that actually meant. She lays staring at the ceiling of her room as she had so many days before. She barely hears Chris enter, not letting his presence pull her from her thoughts.

“MC, you have to talk to me.” his voice speaks low, finally addressing her odd behavior from the weeks before. Chris lays next to her staring at the ceiling trying to grasp an idea of what could be on her mind.

MC finally turns to him tears filling the brim of her eyelids like a glass of water to full to carry. Taking in the sight of her it isn’t long before he’s buried her face in his clean bare chest. Her mood swings were new to him but he tried his best to love them as much as he loved her. An un-measurable amount of time passes before she even speaks.

“I’m just sad.” she says softly before pulling away to look into Chris’s trusting eyes. “Everything in my life is going perfectly, yet I’m sad.” she sighs. “I’m afraid.”

“You have nothing to be afraid of MC.” Chris responds quickly

“Of course I do, I’m afraid of what will happen after this year, where will we all be?” she asks “I know I want to be with you, but we are twenty two years old, how can we even ensure that we will last a lifetime?”

“Do you doubt us?” Chris inquires calmly, trying not let her anxieties become his own.

“No!” she yells through a whisper “I don’t doubt you. I know that I’m going to lose people this year but I also know that I can’t handle losing you.” her eyes meet his finally letting her tears break through.

He holds her close hoping his heat can calm her as it had so many times before. He breathes deep feeling her move with every rise and fall of his chest. He thinks of how to respond, how to assure her he wouldn’t leave her. Through a breath of laughter he finally speaks.

“I would rather face 10,000 clowns than even face the thought of losing you.” he explains kissing the top of her head gently.

She lets his words comfort her for a long moment before responding her breath vibrating off the skin of his neck. “Things were just so much easier before, when fear didn’t control me. When I could be certain of what my future... what our future held.”

“Fear doesn’t control you, you control you. And I’ll support all over your decisions even when they are wrong.” he says calmly “I love you MC”

“I love you too.” she says her tears thick in her voice. It felt good to finally admit her fears, to admit her thoughts that had been locked in her mind for weeks.

#choices #play choices #choices fan fiction #Chris Powell #mc x chris #chris x mc #The Freshman #the sophomore #the junior #the freshman fan fiction #xoempine

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