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astonmartinii · 3 years ago

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lemonade and star-crossed lovers, p1 (JJ Maybank)

Warnings: none yet, swearing? all core characters are aged up to 18, Rafe is 21.

JJ Maybank x kook!reader (super super slow burn) (this will hopefully be a series)

WC: 4.0k

Growing up, Y/N always heard jokes about how the eldest daughter was just the mum in a different font. She never used to believe it, but that was when she had present and dedicated parents. Now, it just seemed that with every addition to the Miller family, the less interested Kevin and Julie Miller became.

So here Y/N was, practically a mother to her three younger siblings.

Dylan is only a year younger than Y/N but is no less of a hassle, especially when his useless friends decide to crash at their place. But considering they had the most hectic house of Dylan’s friendship group, the Miller household was usually the last option.

Then there’s Anderson, he’s in his rebellious phase currently, getting to that point where he’s figured out that acting out could maybe get the attention of his parents. Though Y/N wasn’t sure how well his plans were working out.

Peach is the youngest and practically attached to Y/N’s hip. To an untrained eye, Y/N often looked like a teen mum as she took Peach with her to the grocery shopping. In fact, Y/N was sure that if the kooks in Figure Eight didn’t know her family, they’d sneer at her with the same ignorance that clouded their entire lives.

Y/N woke up glad - it’s the last day of school. Summer break looms. The idea of boneyard keggers and hot (but equally clueless) tourons, excited the girl. But she knew her summer reality would be looking after Peach, bailing Anderson out of jail and swatting away the affections of Dylan’s stupid friends.

—————————————

Dylan is already awake when Y/N comes knocking, taking extra close care to his hair.

“Oh, you’re up,” Y/N said, moving to ruffle his hair and grab the empty plate on his bedside cabinet.

“Jesus, fuck Y/N, was that really necessary?”

“Hey maybe if you spent more time on assignments than your hair you wouldn’t have to take so many summer classes - oh yeah, mum might not remember, but I do, and you will be going.”

“But it’s summer, surely it’s a violation to my human rights to go to school.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive, and maybe when you finally pass this year, you’ll thank me. Breakfast in 10.”

Dylan just flips his sister off, going back to admiring himself in the mirror.

Y/N next goes to Peach’s room to find her awake and rummaging through her draws.

“Hey, princess, what are you thinking for the last day? Third grade finished already, you’ll be my age soon, wheeling me into the retirement home.”

Peach erupts into giggles, pulling out a little pink summer dress and grabbing her pink sandals to complete the ensemble.

“All pink, we love. Breakfast in 10, alright, don’t want you to be late for the last day.”

Anderson’s room is last, Y/N doesn’t bother knocking on her parent’s door. Kevin is probably already down on Judy - his beloved boat. The room is typical of a 14 year old boy, it stunk, his weed paraphernalia was badly hidden and there was a lump of pillows under the cover instead of a boy.

Shrugging, Y/N picked up the dirty mugs in his room and moved downstairs. She’d been awake nearly an hour now but was still unsure of what to make for breakfast. Opening the fridge gave her the only possible answer, leftover pizza from the previous night and maybe a porridge pot, though considering there were only two siblings to account for, it would do.

Dylan and Peach joined her in the kitchen shortly after, each taking a slice or two of pizza.

“No Anderson and pizza for breakfast? Watch out, we'll be calling CPS as soon as we’re outside.“

“You don’t know where the bug is? Why does that boy insist on giving me early onset cardiac issues?”

“Don’t take it too to heart, I’m sure he’ll turn up by the second period.”

“Okay, go to school now. Dylan, are you okay to drop Peach off, I’ll pick her up.”

Dylan nods and ushers the youngest out of the door and to his car. Y/N lets out a sigh when she sees them leave the driveway and makes her way to the back door. Through the sliding door she can see her dad, Kevin on Judy instructing John B, the kid who worked on the boat, what to do. Y/N puts two slices of pizza on a plate and grabs an apple and ventures out to the dock.

“Morning Y/N.”

“Morning, John B, can I interest you in an apple? It’s all we have I’m afraid.”

“No worries, any breakfast is breakfast when you’re a pogue.”

“Oh John B, you know I don’t believe in all that sub-par class warfare bullshit.”

“Of course you don’t, but that’s very easy to say when you’re on the other side.”

“Touche.”

Y/N doesn’t say anymore, but moves to give her dad his breakfast. She liked John B and hoped he didn’t see her like the other kooks. Sure Rafe Cameron frequented her house, but she’s nothing like him.

“Thanks, squirt.”

Despite the nickname, Kevin was absent as ever, not moving to look at her.

“You’re children are off to school, don’t worry.”

Silence.

“Oh thank you Y/N, I really don’t know what we’d do without you! You’re such a gem, you’re really unappreciated and we don’t deserve you! Thanks dad, I really needed to hear that. Are you coming later?”

“Where?” Kevin grunted, with pizza in his mouth.

“My graduation? Did you forget that was today?”

The awkward silence was enough of an answer for Y/N.

“Sorry squirt, I promised to go to the mainland to pick something up for your mother.”

With that, Y/N stormed off Judy, towards the house and into her room. When she sat down on her bed she could think about what just happened. She knew her parents didn’t care about her, but missing their first child’s graduation for a small errand to the mainland?

Now that the house was quiet again, she could get ready - she was graduating today and as valedictorian she wants to look her best. Julie, her mum, is in Washington on some mysterious job venture, Y/N wasn’t told until she came down in the morning a few days ago and saw Julie with her suitcases. She guessed that one positive of her parents’ absenteeism is her ability to steal Julie’s expensive jewelry to wear.

Y/N looked in the mirror, she did clean up nice when she wanted to. Her lengthy hair is in a half-up, half-down style, with minimal makeup and a red knee-length dress. The dress hugged her figure and complemented her graduation gown perfectly. Too bad none of her family would be there to see it. She knew deep down that Peach and Dylan would’ve attended if possible, and Anderson would maybe even make an appearance, especially if there was food involved.

Y/N put her matching red heels on and grabbed her cap from her closet. After one final look in the mirror and putting her printed speech into her bag, the young girl made her way down the stairs.

To her surprise, none other than John B sat in her kitchen drinking a glass of water.

“You clean up nice kook,” said John B, a smug smirk on his face.

“Thank you, John. Don’t you have graduation today?”

“Eh, yeah. I’m just going for the food though, school isn’t really my thing…” John B looked closer at her cap. “I’m practically the opposite to you Miss Valedictorian”.

“Hmm, well at least someone in this house noticed, thank you John B. I’m going now, I didn’t notice your van out front, you need a lift to yours?”

“Is that really on your way, wouldn’t want Miss Valedictorian to be late to her own event, you got a speech ready?”

“I do as a matter of fact, but I want to be just on time, minimise the time people have to ask about the whereabouts of my parents. So, do you want a lift or not?”

“Sure thing, Miss Valedictorian.”

Y/N doesn’t acknowledge the nickname, but secretly loved it, it was a joke, but at least someone was appreciating her achievements. Peach would, she knows, but she’s not really at the point of understanding what it means and the others really are wildcards.

She led John B out to her small car, a baby blue Beetle. The boy smiled at her choice in car,

“I’m sure that a kook like you could afford better than this.”

“Don’t insult Shelby in her presence, weren’t you ever taught manners? Now get it and give me directions.”

The drive was fun, not that John B would tell Y/N that. He enjoyed her music choice, Mac Miller blasting from her speakers and the windows were fully rolled down, damned be her hair.

Y/N neared the chateau and came to a stop. There were a few people sitting on the porch, looking over in confusion.

“Yo, what’s with the kook-mobile, John B?” The blonde yelled from his seat on the beaten-up couch.

When John B only turned to Y/N to say thank you, the interest peaked on the porch. The little gang of pogues moved towards the car.

“John B, I didn’t realise your job came with a taxi service, why did I have to drop you off this morning?” The blonde, once again.

“Lay off JJ, this is Y/N Miller, she’s the daughter of Kevin, the guy whose boat I work on. She’s on her way to her graduation and offered me a lift.”

“Since when are kook graduations on the Cut?” The other boy interjected.

Y/N decided to speak up, “if I knew an act of kindness would cause so much strife, I’ll just let you walk home next time. Now, I do have somewhere to be, so it was nice to see you, John B. I'm sure I’ll see you again this week.”

“Bye Miss Valedictorian, good luck with your speech,” John B said, getting out of Shelby.

“You’re the valedictorian?” Kiara finally spoke, face shocked.

“Yeah, surprising what happens when you show up for school right?” Y/N snapped, angrier than she intended.

“Oh yeah, sorry. I guess I thought that maybe Sarah would get it, especially if Ward has anything to do with it.” Kiara grimaced, she didn’t mean to offend the Miller girl.

“You can’t buy the valedictorian title, well I’m sure you could, but not to flex, but my grades were miles better. If we’re being really ironic though, Ward technically does pay for the valedictorian,” Y/N said with a smile, not meaning to brandish her academic success in their faces.

A chorus of “huhs?” from the pogues surrounding her car told Y/N that they weren’t catching her drift.

“I’m Ward Cameron’s assistant. Sorry, I didn’t make that very clear.”

“You have a job, but you’re a kook?” the blonde, JJ, said.

“Yes, blondie, some of us do have to look out for ourselves, didn’t your parents tell you not to judge a book by its cover. I’ll see you around. Bye John B.”

Y/N backed out of the road, heading back to Figure Eight, with her graduation starting in 10 minutes, she had massively overstayed her welcome at John B’s. If she weren’t so busy, Y/N always thought she’d like to be friends with John B and his crew, they had an unmistakable family bond that Y/N craved. She loves her siblings but they are still grappling with the idea of give and take, mainly fixating on the taking aspect.

Y/N pulled up to school, and took out her phone, dropping a text to Anderson pleading with him to at least make it to two classes today. Even with her phone safely away in her bag, Y/N couldn’t quite bring herself to get out of the car. Happy families surrounded her everywhere she looked, she couldn’t handle the stares when she walks in alone. Well, it’s now or never she says to herself.

Walking isn’t as bad as she suspects, Mr Morgan, her English teacher, meets her at the door and takes her to her seat, explaining the mechanisms of the ceremony and when she’ll make her speech.

The hall, however, is the reminder that Y/N was dreading. The two seats she had booked for her parents sat empty, standing out like a sore thumb in the packed hall. She made her way to the student section with her head down. However, before Y/N could sit she was apprehended by an excitable Sarah Cameron.

“Y/N! Hi! I heard you’re valedictorian, well done! I don’t know how you managed, with all the work and your siblings, you really are amazing.”

“Thanks, Sarah.”

The words sting, despite their pure intentions. She’s a kook, she shouldn’t have to work, and she should have parents who care for her and her siblings, but some things just aren’t meant to be, clearly. Y/N sat in her assigned seat and willed the ceremony to go fast, though she wasn’t looking too forward to her speech. The diversion to the chateau meant that Y/N had no time to look over it again.

The ceremony started and the hall quietened down. Principal Stoney started her opening speech, basking in the spotlight when the hall door bursts open and interrupts. In the doorway stands Anderson. His hair is disheveled and the clothes are torn, probably from the nightly activities with the skateboard he held in his hand. The boy scanned the hall, eyes falling on the empty seats with the name Miller and then Y/N herself. He gives her a small wave and pushes past the Figure Eights families to the seats.

Principal Stoney just restarts, a slight bewildered look on her face.

When it was time for her speech, Y/N didn’t even feel real, like she floated to the stage and was possessed. Her speech went well from what she could gather, Mr Morgan gave her a thumbs up and Anderson hollered, much to the dismay of the families around him. But he was even worse when she received her diploma.

As families spilled onto the field for fancy food and photo opportunities, Y/N wrangled Anderson to the side before he could raid the food stalls.

“Anderson, what the fuck? First you didn't come home last night and then crash my graduation?”

“Hey, I’m sorry about last night, me and the boys got carried away skating and I crashed on Oscar’s couch. I’m sorry, I should’ve called. And as for now, you think I’m going to let my smart-ass VALEDICTORIAN sister graduate without anyone being here to holler? You’re dead wrong.”

The sentiment fills Y/N’s heart with joy and tears threaten to spill. Anderson’s never been good with feelings, it was nice to know that he did care.

“Mum and dad can go fuck themselves, if they don’t see how great you are then they’re blind.”

“Thanks, bug. It means a lot. Now don’t eat too much, people are probably already annoyed that you’re here.”

Anderson shrugs, he couldn’t care less what they thought, he was here to eat and show off his sister.

“Congratulations Y/N!”

The voice of Y/N’s boss, Ward Cameron, was easily identifiable. Y/N puts on her confident face and turns to see the whole Cameron brigade, minus Wheezie.

“Thank you, Mr Cameron.”

“You know, I just don’t know how you get it done, working for us and dealing with your siblings…” Rose says, the last part fading out as she watches Anderson walk back to his sister with his arms piled high with fancy horderves.

“It’s tough, yeah, but what wouldn’t you do for your family?”

“Of course, of course, sorry for any implications, where is the old man, I know Julie is off on business, but Kevin has to be proud, I didn’t see him in the hall?” Ward’s voice feigned sincerity, but the Miller siblings saw right through it. Before Anderson could respond, Y/N replied.

“Dad is also doing business on the mainland, at the last minute. He’s devastated, really,” it's not convincing, even to her. Y/N can tell she hasn’t convinced the Camerons either. Sarah gives her a sad look, Rose attempts to mirror her step-daughter but fails, Ward looks slightly smug, like he’s trying to hide it but Rafe doesn’t even try to hide it like his dad, a massive smirk on his face.

“What are your plans for the summer Miller?” Y/N is surprised when it’s Rafe who asks the question.

“Well, I’ll be working for your dad, if he’ll have me, I still have my volleyball coaching in the tourist season and there’s never a dull moment with these around,” Y/N puts her arm around Anderson.

Looking for a quick exit, she looks at her watch.

“Oh, if we go now, you can still catch your last two periods. Kids, am I right?” She gestures at Rose and Ward, “we’ll be off now, I’ll see you next week?”

The Camerons nod as Y/N pulls Anderson away and towards the car park. But before they can fully escape, they’re stopped by Mr Morgan.

“You think you can leave without a photo and a proper goodbye, I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, Miller.”

“Of course not, Mr Morgan, here,” she hands Anderson her phone, “take a picture please.”

Anderson does so, taking about 50 at once.

“Okay, okay, let's get one of you two, you can’t not have a proper graduation picture, especially not when you’re valedictorian.”

Mr Morgan takes the phone and smiles at the siblings. When the impromptu photoshoot ends, Y/N is glad, despite it pushing back her escape.

“Y/N, on a serious note, you are always welcome in my classroom, you’ve been a pleasure, and don’t tell anyone, but you were my favourite. And you, I hope you’ll be just as good next year sir,” he says turning to Anderson, “although considering you’re here and not in class doesn’t bode well.”

“Thank you, sir, really. But you are completely right, and that’s why we’re bouncing now, so he can get two at least two periods.”

Mr Morgan smiles at the two when they start to run to the car. He’s always felt sad for the eldest Miller, and her parents absence did not go unnoticed.

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

“I’ll see you later, I know you guys will probably crash a kegger, but at least come home before you go?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, who knows maybe I’ll see you there?”

Anderson laughs and gets out of the car, he knows his sister won’t especially when Peach will be home. Y/N watches him go into the building and stays a couple minutes to make sure he doesn’t sneak back out when he thinks she’s gone.

But Y/N barely gets time to breathe, as she’s down to the elementary school to pick up Peach. The girl in all pink is waiting with a gaggle of friends and shrieks when she sees the blue car.

“Y/N! Y/N! I got the “most improved” in drama!”

Y/N opens the door and picks up Peach, spinning her round and congratulating her.

“Well done, bubs. This calls for a celebration, it’s the first day of summer and the boys won’t be out for another couple of hours - what do you want to do?”

Peach doesn’t even need a second to think.

“Lemonade stand!”

Huh? Y/N was prepared for an answer closer to maybe a princess party or surfing lessons, but a lemonade stand?

“Are you sure?”

“You said we could do whatever I want!”

“Okay, okay, let’s go then we’ve got a lot to do.”

Satisfied with getting her way, Peach got in the car and demanded that the next stop was the craft store.

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

The next 90 minutes were gruelling. Peach spared no expense, Y/N was lucky that she still had the credit card Julie gave her. But she knew it would all be worth it. And it was.

Peach chose a spot right in the middle of the beach and the stall was already making a profit. Y/N knew kooks just couldn’t resist the temptation to look good and what was better than giving a generous tip to a child’s lemonade stand?

But with a successful kook-trap came the kook assholes. Namely Rafe, Topper and Kelce.

“Three lemonades please. Apricot, right?” Rafe said with a smirk.

“You know it’s Peach asshole.”

“That’s a bad word, Y/N,” Peach mumbled, clearly upset about being called apricot of all things.

“Yeah that’s a bad word, Miller, you should listen to Apricot a little more.”

“Maybe, you should listen to your college professors, oh wait, you dropped out, my bad, must be a bit of an open wound judging by the look on your face. I bet daddy wasn’t impressed.”

“Excuse me, you bitch, how dare you talk to me like that.”

“Run along, lap dog, we don’t need your money.”

Rafe goes to say something but Topper and Kelce hold him back.

“Bro, don’t get it shit with your pops over a fucking lemonade,” Topper warned.

With a final “fuck off”, Rafe Cameron stalked away to his car, his gang of cowards following, but not without Topper placing a crisp $20 bill in the tip jar. Peach mumbled and thank you and Y/N just nodded to Topper, too tired to say anything more.

And if her afternoon couldn’t get any worse, the prickly blonde from this morning strolled over to the stand.

“I’ll have four lemonades please.”

Peach gasped and accepted his money right away, getting to work on the drinks.

“I’ve seen many a kook-trap in my time, Miller, but not many operated by Kooks themselves. Impressive ingenuity.”

“Thanks - JJ, was it? Peach here won “most improved” in her drama class and this is what she wanted to do in celebration”

“Cute, Miller, didn’t take you as a softy earlier.”

Peach announces that she’s finished with the pogue’s drinks, he puts another $5 in the tip jar and grabs the drinks.

“Miller, there’s a kegger at the boneyard tonight, wanna come? I’m sure at least one of your brothers will crash.”

“Sorry JJ, someone’s gotta look after the little one, maybe another time, if you can stand being around a kook for that long.”

“I think I can make an exception, especially if they look like you Miller,” he winks, ��boneyard tonight, if you change your mind.”

Y/N blushed, but she knew she couldn’t, she couldn’t leave a nine year old at home, even if Kevin was there, there was no guarantee that Peach would be fed and given adequate attention.

“He’s pretty, you should go.”

“Peach, honey, you know I can’t, I can’t leave you at home.”

“But I could go to Jenny’s, she’s having a sleepover tonight, I forgot to ask earlier, I got too excited about the lemonade stand.”

“Okay, you can go to Jenny’s, but promise not too much candy?”

“Only if you promise to go with him tonight.”

Peach was proving to be just as mischievous as her brothers.

“Okay fine.”

“Go tell him then.”

“Huh?”

“I won’t believe you unless you go tell him now that you'll be there!”

Y/N groans, but gets up to follow the blonde. As she nears, she shouts,

“Hey JJ! I’ll be there tonight, at the boneyard, I’ll be there.”

“Didn’t take too long for you to change your mind then, am I just that irresistible?”

“No? What? Of course not! It’s just Peach - she’s a master manipulator, and she’s only nine!”

“Sure, Miller, if that’s what you want me to believe, I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

Y/N turned, she should cringe, but she finds herself blushing as she walks back to Peach.

“Don’t say anything, missy, you’ve done enough, let’s pack up and get you ready for Jenny’s. You young ones are such troublemakers, damn.”

A/N: I am not American, so I hope that the graduation stuff makes sense, from someone who has no real clue what happens there lol

#obx #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #obx imagine #outerbanks imagine #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #ward cameron #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x reader

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maxwell-grant · 4 years ago

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Vincenzo: The Gentleman Villain Reborn

Long before there were loudmouth buff guys in spandex, there was the gentleman villain.

There once was a time when the gentleman villain, whether a gentleman thief in the Raffles or Lupin mold, or murderous arch-criminals like Fu Manchu and Fantomas, organizations like Les Vampires, and even in-between figures like Rocambole and Judex, was the coolest thing in the pop culture block. The figures right around the corner of Baker Street, when Nick Carter and Sexton Blake and any billion old serial detectives weren’t quite cutting it. Their time was not to last long in the spotlight, as the pulp heroes consolidated domain in the 30s and then the superheroes took over, but every now and then, they return in various forms, never fully gone. But I’d dare say I’d never seen a gentleman villain story quite so bold, so modern, so dynamic and so gloriously over-the-top in pride over it’s existence, until I began watching Vincenzo.

Vincenzo is BADASS and I don’t use the term lightly. Not just the titular character, but the show itself. It’s currently a couple episodes short of the finale and you should stop everything you’re doing or watching and go watch Vincenzo. It’s been an utterly glorious ride from beginning to end with no shortage of great characters, terrific writing, great relationships and jaw-dropping moments as every episode succeeds in topping each other in WOW HOLY SHIT factor. It’s a shot of adrenaline and storytelling excellence to the eyeballs and you don’t have anything better to be doing right now than watching this.

I mentioned a while ago that Black was a show that, besides being also terrific in quality, captured my interest as a Shadow fan specifically because I saw in Black what I believe is the heart of The Shadow as a character: an embodiment of evil, motivated and created and warped by social catastrophe and strife, set loose to punish true evil in order to protect humanity. In that regard, if Black is where I find the heart of The Shadow, Vincenzo is where I find the spirit of what I like about The Shadow as a series: Cathartic urban fairytales where an extraordinary agent of change, armed with incredible cunning, sleight-of-hand and combat skills, rises above a dark background to command a folk brigade of ordinary people who reveal themselves to be extraordinary through their newfound purpose, to right the wrongs of society’s predators, by being better at their tactics than they are and turning their tools against them.

I’m gonna spoil it a bit under the cut but please go watch it. I cannot praise this show enough and I’ll do my best to try.

Vincenzo centers around the titular character, Vincenzo Cassano, an Italian lawyer who works for the mafia as a consigliere, adopted by it’s Don at the age of eight. After the death of the Don and an attempted betrayal by his son, Vincenzo flees to Seoul and ends up taking residence at a ramshackle building called Geumga Plaza. Geumga Plaza is the hiding place of a gigantic stash of gold hidden by one of Vincenzo’s former clients, and he intends to retrieve it to rebuild his life somewhere else. Naturally, not only is the hidden room completely impenetrable, but the building is occupied. by residents who are being forced out of it by criminals working for the Babel corporation, which intends to take possession of the building. And thus, Vincenzo has to put his skills into working out progressively bigger problems, as his efforts to uncover the gold turn into a fight against Babel and it’s lawyers, as the problems take on bigger and bigger proportions.

Vincenzo’s got a lot of what you’d expect from a k-drama at first glance. The leading man is a dashing young man, the leading lady is headstrong and stubborn, you see their romance coming a mile away and they take their damn time getting there, there’s emotional backstories that take a long time to be revealed, lots of wacky side characters and comedy interspersed with the darkest moments, a focus on corporate corruption, and so on. But it’s got an intrusion of elements brought by Vincenzo’s inclusion, such as mob drama, tonal and cultural imbalance, and the gentleman villain tropes that Vincenzo brings, as the catalyst of change whose antics backflip through action hero, romantic hero, super hero and super villain, cunning puppetmaster and gun-toting warrior alike, and start to have an effect on the world around him. His allies become stronger, more determined and effective, and the villains grow smarter and more horrid as they desperately try to avoid their own downfalls.

On paper, Vincenzo is almost a textbook example of how to craft a villain protagonist. He’s a mysterious foreigner with a hidden past and incredible skills who shows up uninvited in “our” world, who starts terrorizing and manipulating people into doing his bidding. He’s got a hotheaded and foolish investigator chasing after his every move, and frequently employs misdirection and sleight-of-hand to fool the authorities. He commits crimes and employs underhanded methods in the service of stamping out people worse than himself. He never really makes any claim of being a hero and actively rejects the notion he’s fighting for justice, but instead states he’s doing it as a matter of principle. One of the characters early on even states he gives off the vibe of a movie villain, even Vincenzo himself tells Hong Cha-Young, the female lead, that he’s teaching her how to be a proper villain. In another series, Vincenzo would be the hypercompetent sidekick to the main villain, or secretly the main villain, the lone badass that the action hero would have a tough fight against before defeating and moving on. But Vincenzo does not allow himself to be dismissed so easily.

On the first episode, when we’re introduced to him in Italy, he’s painted as the badass to end all badasses. But the minute he arrives in Seoul, he falls for a trick at the airport and is mugged by two cabbies, and has to walk around penniless and without dignity, shouting curses in Italian that nobody understands. He has to sleep in a broken down apartment, his “taking a steamy shower with classical music playing” fanservice scene keeps being interrupted because the shower doesn’t work, and a pigeon chattering outside his window keeps ruining his sleep.

The tenants of the building are all introduced as varying levels of unsympathetic and useless, or downright creepy. The tailor screws up his favorite suit, the chef who claims to have studied in Italy is a total fraud, there’s tenants who scare us by passing as ghosts and zombies, and Hong Cha-Young is introduced as an unlikable stooge for Babel. Vincenzo is a villain protagonist who is forced out of his grand mafia epic film, where he conducts business around lavish manors while classical music plays, and stumbles onto a korean drama, a world that operates by different rules and where no one has any reason to take him seriously at first, and gradually finds out that the difference between both worlds is not as big as he’d imagined.

It’s only at the very end of the first episode, when the neighborhood gangsters show up to terrorize the tenants, that Vincenzo starts to kick ass again, and he has not stopped so far. In fact, not just him, ALL of the tenants have gradually started kicking ass with him. Hong Cha-Young severs all connections to Babel and proves to be, as his main partner in crime, just as cunning, twice as driven, and three times as batshit and kooky. The tailor who ruined his suit turns out to be an ex-gang member capable of fending off groups of thugs with only his scissors. The creepy piano girl reveals herself a hacking genius, the zombie impersonators become incredible actors, the failed wrestler and badass wannabe becomes his most active field agent along with his equally strong wife, the chef improves his cooking and lends his restaurant as a meeting center, all of the characters, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM gradually become incredible, competent, resourceful people, really no different than they were before, it just took a little courage and pushing.

The headstrong and foolish agent pursuing Vincenzo becomes 100% smitten with him and quickly becomes one of his greatest allies. Even the neighborhood gangsters, after being left to die by Babel and forced to start anew, quickly become some of his most loyal allies, and gradually redeem themselves in the eyes of the tenants to the point they become friends. In departing from his old family, Vincenzo forms a new one, even if never by his intention. They even all get matching suits.

This incredibly potent, human core surrounding the antics of an extraordinary figure of action is part of what used to make the Agents of The Shadow such a special, meaningful and beloved part of the series, and something every adaptation since then has been 100% poorer for neglecting. But Vincenzo does it, and does it right. I could watch a billion adventures with these people and never get sick of them.

Vincenzo is a slick, modern take on the gentleman villain that takes many of it’s oldest conventions and provides blueprints for making them work in modern times. His plans often take a performance art-edge as he employs tactics both old-fashioned and modern, like using social media to stage an event in front of the Plaza so the bulldozers set to demolish it won’t be able to pass, or copying files and passing them to his police contact while keeping the real ones when said police contact inevitably betrays him. The tenants put all of their skills to use, no matter how unusual or seemingly useless. Every episode lays the groundwork for a smashing finale where all of the threads come together and we bare witness to a grand tapestry of karmic retribution.

The villains themselves are no slouch, and also have that modern edge that gradually ramps up. They stage discreet assassinations involving gas leaks and watches meant to burst into flames. They stack the deck impossibly against all characters. They employ masked goons by the dozens, armies of lawyers to smudge any connections between themselves and their actions, and every sector of society in covering them, from journalists publishing pro-Babel propaganda to police commissioners. The assistant of the main villain does zumba classes amidst ordering assassinations, and is often likened to a snake and a witch with her "Crystal Ball” (the name she uses for ordering assassin contacts by the phone), complete with a cowardly, scheming assistant she bullies at every turn. The CEO of Babel has a dual nature not out of place in a Jekyll & Hyde/Dorian Grey kind of story.

The main villain is often painted as a slasher villain backed by massive corporate power, murdering people with hockey equipments and even outright named “Jason” at one point, with a tense string theme song accompanying his deeds. The show hides the villain at plain sight by using one of the most familiar set-ups of romantic dramas and the tension never stops even after he’s revealed.

Mobster films tend to paint an idealized version of it’s protagonists, not necessarily because of a genuine love or interest with mobsters (I mean, it really goes without saying that real life mobsters are obviously not admirable figures), but out of a sense of displaying a “this is what it could be” fantasy, a fantasy where the mafioso is a dark hero who will still ultimately do the right thing and stick up for the little guy, in a similar way to how superheroes often function as police officers except, y’know, actually dedicated to protecting people.

Vincenzo does go to great lengths to address the imbalance of putting such a dark figure as it’s hero, through showing how the situation can only be addressed by the intrusion of a figure such as Vincenzo. There’s a scene where Vincenzo and Hong proceed to explain extremely succintly to their cop ally why the “bad apples” argument is horseshit. One of the show’s characters, someone who’s spent his entire life being the best person he could, and dedicating himself 110% percent to fighting evil even at the expense of connecting with his own family, someone who absolutely should be the hero to take down Babel, admits shortly before dying that it wasn’t enough, that it was never going to be enough, and that what the situation calls for isn’t a hero, but a monster. That monster being Vincenzo, who is not only powerful and monstrous, but commands the loyalty of people high and low class alike, criminals and law enforcement agents, to fight Babel. In his words, “the ultimate monster”, something even the world’s biggest badass cannot defeat by himself.

On most other set-ups, Vincenzo would be pretty unmistakably the villain. But here, when he’s set up against a starkly realistic depiction of how corporations actually function in our world, depicts that Vincenzo’s ability to clear his way through goons John Wick-style is nowhere near enough, and to that end, he’s gonna have to fight impossible battles using his brains and his allies. And in the end, he defeats them, time and time again, and proves that they were not that impossible after all.

One can only hope he’s on to something.

Oh yeah and THE PIGEON BY HIS WINDOW ALSO KICKS ASS and I will not explain how, just watch the show, I can’t do it justice no matter how much I talk about it.

#k-drama #vincenzo #i've fallen in the k-drama rabbit hole and I am not getting back up #I love everything about this show so goddamn much #song joong ki #tvn vincenzo

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charlieknighte · 4 years ago

Text

un jour tu t’en voudras - part 1

Ethan Hitchcock/Maelgwyn

Modern AU - University AU - Fake/Pretend Relationship - Pining - Hurt/Comfort but like significantly more hurt than comfort - french people being terrible

13,060 words

content warnings: terminal illness, drunkenness and smoking, unhealthy family dynamics

For three hundred dollars, Ethan Hitchcock will attend your family's holiday event posing as your shitty art school boyfriend and do everything in his power to wreck the night. Maelgwyn's getting tired of Thanksgiving.

(Featuring art from my dear friend Matt Prairiecryptid!)

For once in his life, Maelgwyn is excited to see Thanksgiving go to shit.

Nausea always creeps up on him as he moves towards a family gathering, but he’s distracting himself with schadenfreudian thoughts of how much of the night’s chaos and strife is going to be his responsibility this time. They’re going to hate the boy he’s bringing on his arm so goddamn much. Ethan has taken it upon himself to sound like even more of an egregious Quebecois douchebag than usual, like he's cramming a handful of extra vowels into every single word. It would bother Maelgwyn too if it wasn’t a result of an evening back home spent excitedly brainstorming ways to make him insufferable. It’s all Ethan can do to make himself as disheveled and douchey as possible. Maelgwyn’s paying a pretty penny for him to antagonize his parents, after all.

The Hitchcocks rarely advertise their services through anything but word of mouth anymore. Exam cheatsheets, less than legal party supplies, forged doctors’ notes, winning Roll Up The Rim cups—everyone around campus knows there’s not much they can’t get for you if you’re paying. Their acting services don’t come all that cheap, either, but once in a blue moon someone needs to make an ex jealous or fake a family emergency. Maelgwyn had come to them with his dilemma half expecting to be turned down, but they’d just nodded knowingly and named their prices as if they’d performed this particular service a dozen times before.

So now Ethan’s here in Louisiana with him, blowing cotton candy-flavored clouds into the evening sky as they walk through pretty polished suburbs on their way to Maelgwyn’s grandfather’s house. He didn’t come cheap, even if they gave him a discount for a year of friendship and for the fact that they know how much shit his parents piled on him. Still, Maelgwyn is relieved he’s here. The thought of affronting his family again is much less dread-inducing with the knowledge that he’ll have backup. Ethan is a good friend to have—he’d endeared himself to Maelgwyn mostly by sleeping through the film classes they’d had together and later begging to study with him, then slyly turning their study sessions into outings with his friends. It was one of the reasons Maelgwyn had finally broken out of the lonely shell he’d hidden in through his first year at university.

He can work with him, he knows that much. He just wishes they’d had more time to prepare a plan for the night. Maelgwyn clears his throat. “So, we’re starting off on too good of a footing already. My parents are way too happy to hear I’m bringing home a boy.”

Ethan tucks away his vape and gives him a sideways look. “Aren’t you bi?”

“Yeah, well… I rode out making them think I was straight as long as I could. It pissed my dads off thinking I wouldn’t even consider experimenting.” Maelgwyn pulls a face. “Samot wanted to throw me a coming out party.”

Ethan snorts. “Too much acceptance is really an unusual complaint to have.”

“I know, I know.” Maelgwyn lets the matter slide. It’s a petty thing to bring up, and really the least of his worries when it comes to his parents. “Anyway, you’re also going to get brownie points with Samot right off the bat for being, y’know… good-looking.”

Ethan raises his eyebrows at him and gestures at himself. His Habs jersey and ripped jeans are wildly inappropriate for a dinner party, and he’d purposefully smudged his eyeliner at Maelgwyn’s request. His earrings are even mismatched. “Am I, though?” he says, skeptical.

“I mean your face. You’re not ugly.”

“Oh.” Ethan puts a fist under his chin and pouts at him. “Well, that’s all I get? I’m not ugly?”

Maelgwyn sighs good-humoredly. “Yeah, yeah, you’re pretty.”

Ethan splits into a grin, having gotten what he wanted out of him, and puts a spring into his step. Maelgwyn shoves his shoulder fondly. “Pretty fuckin’ annoying.”

“ Oh! ” Ethan stumbles and clutches his chest. “Is that any way to speak to your beloved? You wound me, mon cher .”

Maelgwyn laughs despite the strange feeling creeping into his chest. He really wishes they’d had a chance to rehearse. Hearing Ethan refer to him so affectionately is strange. Something occurs to him. “Oh, shit. Um, one more thing. My parents are pretty PDA, so we’ll probably have to…

“Match their expectations so they don’t assume your relationship is crashing and burning?”

“Good way to put it.” Ethan really has done this before. Maelgwyn’s not sure how to feel about that.

Ethan’s hand hovers by his waist. “Can I, then?”

“Sure.” Maelgwyn lets him put his arm around him and tries to adjust to being held as he walks. It’s not that foreign of a feeling. He’s had to endure the Hitchcocks’ drunken snuggling enough to not be fazed by them being touchy-feely when sober. Still, people don’t usually touch him here. He feels like he’s being flirted with by a spineless frat boy at a party.

As they near the house, Maelgwyn finds himself nervously hoping he knows enough about Ethan for their false relationship to appear plausible. He knows that Ethan’s the cheery, personable one in relation to his brother, and that his general knowledge of the world is extremely hit or miss. He knows he’s kind enough to once have comforted Maelgwyn as he heaved his guts out in the bathroom of a frat party, and that he lacks enough common sense to have been found passed out in the bushes himself twenty minutes later. Maelgwyn doesn’t know shit about his life before university, but he figures Ethan will fill in the gaps if he needs to. He’s resourceful like that. Spirits buoyed again, he turns them onto the driveway leading up to the house.

Samol’s mansion is deceptively quaint, vines creeping over its two-story columns and cheerful flowerboxes and porch swings decorating the wrap-around deck. You would imagine it had been purchased for a pittance and passed down through generations. In reality, the house had been built as a wedding gift a few years before Maelgwyn was born, and the charming plant life and Victorian-era aesthetic was a result of careful curation. Maelgwyn still doesn’t know if he’s relieved or resentful over his parents giving it up.

American Thanksgiving has always been Samol's domain, which Maelgwyn is constantly grateful for. He couldn't survive his parents' dinner party posturing again after having to endure it once in October. He doesn’t think Ethan could survive a polite evening in their mansion without snapping either, based on the three-room shithole apartment the Hitchcocks share. It might have inspired him to ask for more money too, which Maelgwyn couldn’t afford without going through the mortification of asking his parents. It’s much better to be here, where their wealth is plausibly deniable. Maelgwyn knocks on the door and braces himself.

There’s a distant hubbub deep within the house as his family politely argues over who’s going to answer. Ethan pops some gum and starts chewing obnoxiously, getting on Maelgwyn’s already frayed nerves—but he supposes that’s the point. Finally, a flash of blond hair approaches through the frosted glass on the door. Samot swings it open, flashing his campaign-trail grin. Maelgwyn’s excitement for his parents to balk at his disheveled, offensively casual boyfriend starts to wane a little as he tries to estimate how much Mayor Samot’s qipao of black silk and golden gilding must’ve cost the taxpayers of Toronto. His hair is in an elegant updo that he must’ve paid an equally opulent amount for.

“Maelgwyn!” Samot says, delighted as if he had no idea that his own son would be attending the family dinner he’s pressured into year after year. He steps out and wraps him up in a perfumey hug, earrings tinkling. Maelgwyn pats his back to participate without having to hug him back. “Oh, it’s so good to see you,” Samot effuses, stepping back. “Come in, come in. Everyone’s been asking after you, sweetheart.”

Maelgwyn lets himself be shuffled into Samol’s nicely decorated if overly floral foyer. It’s pointless to fight Samot when he’s turned into an overwhelming cloud of energy and charm in his determination to do something. Ethan steps in after them, and Samot looks to him like an apex predator zeroing in on movement. His smile gets a little wider, showing more of his painfully white teeth. “You must be Ethan.”

“Yeah. Hi.” Ethan takes one hand out of his pocket and shakes his hand. Samot’s sharp smile dulls a little as he takes in his outfit. Still, the fact that it stays on his face instead of dropping away entirely means Maelgwyn was right to say Ethan would pass his standards for appearance. He feels a twinge of annoyance.

An unfavorable twinge passes across Ethan’s face too as Samot’s deceptively slender fingers crush his hand. “Samot,” he says, smile back up to its maximum brightness. “Charmed, I’m sure.” Maelgwyn wishes his parents didn’t feel the need to establish authority over every single person they meet, but then again he wishes a lot of things about his parents. Every interaction with them is a fucked-up give and take exchange mired in the complicated politics of their family.

There are heavy steps behind him, and his heart sinks. He turns unwillingly. Samothes is making his way down the hall with a drink in one hand, as tall and stern and regal and terrifying as he was when Maelgwyn last saw him. That was some time ago. The golden embroidery down the chest of his sherwani matches the pattern on Samot’s qipao, and Maelgwyn has to resist rolling his eyes. He steps out to meet him, wanting to get it over with. “Hi, dad,” he says, and doesn’t deign to add anything else.

“Glad you could come,” Samothes says, hesitating for a nearly imperceptible moment before he pats Maelgwyn’s shoulder heavily. His gaze goes past him and visibly grows darker. He leans in and asks under his breath, “What is this?” As if Maelgwyn’s brought home a stray dog he doesn’t approve of.

“This is my boyfriend.” Maelgwyn turns so he doesn’t have to interact with him further and marches over to take Ethan’s arm firmly and interrupt whatever invasive questions Samot was trying to wheedle him into answering. Samot smiles innocently. Samothes comes to put an arm around his husband’s waist, frowning openly at Ethan. Maelgwyn can watch him doing Ethan’s job for him and making a dozen unfavorable assumptions about him already.

Ethan raises his chin at him in greeting and snaps his gum. “What’s good?” he asks. He’s discreetly wringing out his hand from Samot’s handshake.

“This is Ethan, dearest,” Samot says, leaning into his husband and drawing himself up to his full height to rest his head on his shoulder. His eyes are getting narrower and narrower as Ethan’s dreadfully inappropriate outfit and lack of manners already start to outweigh his pretty face.

“Ethan,” Samothes says, and doesn’t make any attempt to welcome him. Ethan puts out his hand, realizes there isn’t a handshake waiting, fumbles and puts it down. Maelgwyn can see him start to take on a tinge of genuine nervousness. He feels like he should’ve warned Ethan in some way, but there’s really not much more he could’ve done after telling him my parents are politicians. Samothes, who relishes in his position as senator of Ontario largely because of his lack of contact with the public, is really the worst one to have to impress.

Then again, Ethan isn’t really here to impress. “Um, Samothes, I guess?” he says like he’s only half-interested, getting even more insufferable about his gum-chewing.

“Mm,” Samothes grunts, still glaring at him. Maelgwyn imagines how terrifying his parents must seem from Ethan’s point of view, tall and beautiful and hostile in that courtly, dismissive manner of theirs. Making them hate him is going to be easier than he thought.

“Let’s not keep everyone waiting, yes?” Samot says, nudging his husband and sweeping them back off to the foyer. He throws Maelgwyn a look that says they’re going to talk about Ethan’s outfit later. Maelgwyn can’t wait.

He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the rungs of the staircase to the second floor for lack of available racks. “Well, that was hostile,” Ethan remarks, following Maelgwyn’s lead with noticeably less care. “They’re very—”

"Don't joke about how hot my parents are,” Maelgwyn snaps.

Ethan raises his eyebrows at him. "I didn't say anything."

"I know. I’m just saying. I didn’t want to tell you in advance and hear a million dumb jokes from you and Edmund."

"They made a good-looking kid. I didn't really need a warning."

"You can’t deflect from calling my parents hot by flirting with me. That just makes it worse . " Maelgwyn jabs a finger at him accusingly, and Ethan raises his hands.

"I didn't say anything ,” he insists.

Maelgwyn sighs and leads him through the dim foyer and into the bright, bustling living room. The adults are dressed as if they’re attending a formal gala. Adults—Malegwyn hates that he still calls them that unconsciously. They throw a few judgemental glances at Ethan out of their cloud of cocktail dresses and tailored suits. Ethan’s jersey had set him back a few hundred bucks, but no one here would find that an exorbitant sum. “Well,” says Ethan, insolently refusing to be intimidated, “should we make the rounds?”

“Yeah,” Maelgwyn says, though he’s reluctant. He can see his grandfather in his usual rocking chair, swimming in a stark white dress shirt that used to fit him perfectly. He’s laughing at something his sister is saying. Maelgwyn makes a beeline for him, pulling Ethan along by the arm.

Samol catches sight of him and eases himself up, smile so wide and genuine it crinkles the corners of his eyes. He holds out his arms for a hug, and Maelgwyn leans into him much more gladly than Samot. “Hey, grandpa.” He puts his arms around him and feels a moment of protectiveness at just how frail he is.

“It’s been far too long. I hope they’re treating you well up north.” Samol steps back and grins over his shoulder. “And this must be the famous Ethan.”

“Yeah, hi,” says Ethan, putting out a hand. Samol ignores it and pulls him into a hug, too. Surprise quickly flashes across Ethan’s face, and then he hugs him back politely.

“Good to meet you. I have to say,” Samol says, pulling away, “we haven’t heard all that much about you, son. I’m looking forward to getting to know just who you are.” He smiles, easy and kind. Still, there’s an edge to the statement that Maelgwyn doesn’t quite understand.

“Um, you too,” Ethan says. He can’t bring himself to be rude to Samol, as most people can’t, but he looks slightly discomforted by the idea that people have been wondering about him. Maelgwyn doesn’t blame him when it’s these people.

Samol holds out a hand to the rest of his family. “This is my sister Severea. Her partner Galenica. My… brother of sorts, Tristero.” Severea and Galenica glitter as always, and Tristero’s in his signature jet black suit. They give Ethan smiles in varying shades of politeness as he shakes their hands in turn.

"Pleasure," he says, greatly enjoying his aggressive Quebecois shtick. Tristero narrows his eyes. His handshake looks painful.

"Likewise," he says, with his perfect Parisian lilt. Maelgwyn can see the exact moment Ethan stops enjoying himself. Tristero snatches away his hand like Ethan has the plague and turns to speak to Severea in mainland French, abruptly cutting him out of the social circle.

Ethan stands there for a moment, taking furious breaths, and then he turns around to round on Maelgwyn. "You didn't tell me you were French."

"All sorts,” says Maelgwyn. “I said we were all sorts."

Ethan puts his hands over his face and mutters a long string of curse words that contains tabarnak no less than four times. Some of Maelgwyn’s family members look at him strangely, but none of them really grasp what he’s saying. “We’re in Louisiana,” Maelgwyn reminds him. “What did you expect?”

Ethan puts his hands down, but he’s still sulking. “Your family has a hell of a grip,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, it’s from all the political grandstanding.” Maelgwyn puts an arm around his shoulders and turns him away from the adults’ corner of the room and its dozens of empty martini glasses. “You wanna meet my cousins?”

Ethan nods miserably and lets himself be led over to where the Tristé siblings are sprawling across the couches texting. Adelaide is draped across the length of one couch, head propped on her arm, and Angelo is aggressively manspreading at the other end to try to win back some space. They aren’t dressed extravagantly, but they still drip in brand names and good taste and organic locally-sourced handpicked vegan textiles.

Angelo rolls off the couch and hops up to give Maelgwyn that shining grin that he shares with his father and hates so much. “Bro,” he says, pulling him into a hug and slapping his back, “where’ve you been? Tristero’s made me go on a humblebrag parade around the room, like, five times. It’s your turn, Oscars boy.”

“Oh, god, I hope not.” Angelo’s been out of the house much longer than Maelgwyn has, but Maelgwyn knows he resents his father treating him like a child at these gatherings as much as he does. He punches Angelo’s shoulder amicably. “Nice to see you.”

“This your boyfriend?”

“Yeah—yeah. Uh, Ethan.”

Ethan jolts to attention and steps in to slap Angelo’s hand. “Hey,” he says, a shade more friendly than he was with most of the family. He seems relieved not to have to shake another hand. Trusting Angelo to be polite unsupervised, Maelgwyn turns his attention to the other Tristé sibling.

“Hey, Adie,” he says, leaning down to give her a one-armed hug. “You guys look great.”

Adelaide squeezes his shoulders. “And your boyfriend looks terrible. You’re trying to piss off Samot, aren’t you?” Maelgwyn gives her a pleading look, and she raises her hands. “My lips are sealed. Enjoy whichever game you’re playing.”

Maelgwyn breathes a sigh of relief and drops onto the couch across from her. He appreciates that the Tristés consider him to be enough of an ally in the political landscape of their family that they’ll call him out on his shit instead of pretending to fall for it. He and Ethan chat with them during the long lull before Samol announces dinner is served. Maelgwyn mostly sticks to small talk and half-listens to Ethan enthusing about his fencing team with Angelo. It’s completely unsurprising that they get along well. He just wishes he hadn't given Ethan free license to exaggerate his accent. It's already getting grating.

It’s not even halfway into the night, and Maelgwyn’s weary and itchy and uncomfortably warm. He wishes desperately he could be home, not for the first time and not for the last. At some point Ethan leans over and asks if he can put an arm around his waist again. It helps to have some time to parse the feeling of Ethan’s arm around him in a place he usually hesitates to let people touch. It’s not so bad once he gets used to it.

Finally, Samol comes back from checking on his food and announces that dinner is served. The slow shuffle to the dining room starts, and Maelgwyn endures nearly ten more minutes of laughter and milling about and seats being scraped back and forth. Ethan’s arm around him starts being less of a touch he’s tolerating and more of a grounding sensation. Finally, the seating arrangement is established, with Maelgwyn sitting as far from Samothes as he possibly can and ending up by Samol, who’s taken up the other head of the table. His grandfather smiles at him for a moment before they say grace, eyes merry and twinkling between wrinkled lids. Maelgwyn can’t help but smile back.

Samothes settles himself in his seat with gravitas, looking gravely out over candlesticks and seasonal decorations and heaping plates of Louisiana home cooking. "Dear lord," he begins, projecting his booming voice. There’s a flutter as hands are clasped and eyes are closed. "Thank you for this food. Bless the hands that prepared it. Bless it to our use and us to your service—"

Ethan suddenly shoves back his chair with a loud noise, makes sure people are looking as he spits his gum into his hand, and gets up to throw it out in the kitchen. The table sits in stony silence until he returns. Maelgwyn desperately holds in laughter. When Ethan returns, Samothes says in a low, dangerous voice, "Would you like to finish our grace, Ethan?"

He freezes. "Me?"

"The lord seems to have moved your spirit."

There's a nervous chuckle around the table. Ethan's squirms, waiting to see if it's a joke that will blow over. It isn't. He opens his mouth and hesitates. As if someone else is saying it for him, he mumbles distantly, "And help us to give you glory each day through Jesus Christ our lord."

An amen goes around the table, and dinner properly begins. Samothes looks grimly pleased. Ethan rips apart a dinner roll violently. Maelgwyn briefly worries that Samothes has genuinely upset him, but Ethan's anger seems to evaporate a moment too quickly. Or maybe he’s imagined it. It’s never easy to tell what Ethan’s thinking. Too many of his actions are the result of one facade or another.

Either way, Ethan eventually pulls himself up from his childish slouch to serve himself like everyone else. He goes for his dinner fork, hesitates and purposefully picks up his dessert fork instead. Samot goes to say something, seems to think better of it and just purses his lips. Maelgwyn has always noted that Ethan has strangely impeccable table manners when he wants to, and he’s thrilled that he’s deciding to use his knowledge of etiquette for evil. He picks up his own dinner fork, because to do otherwise would be a little too suspicious, and digs into his food enthusiastically. Samol’s jambalaya has often been the only thing getting him through this fucking holiday.

"So, Ethan," Samol begins, smiling warmly, "where do you spend your Thanksgivings when my grandson isn't dragging you out to my neck of the woods?"

Ethan gives him a small, polite smile. Samol is too hospitable for anyone to stay standoffish when speaking to him. "At friends', with my brother." To tell the truth, Maelgwyn is tremendously envious of the friendsgiving he’s constantly missing out on. For Thanksgiving to be a pleasant night and not a drawn-out affair of family drama and faux-politeness would be a dream.

"Not with family?" Samot asks from across the table, masking judgement with concerned curiosity.

Ethan snorts. “Wouldn't know where to find them for it, and wouldn’t care to see them." They have the opposite problem, really. Maelgwyn has too much family, and Ethan has next to none. Ethan has never seemed to give much of a shit about it, which Maelgwyn envies tremendously. He wishes with all his heart and soul that what his family was doing didn’t bother or affect him.

Samot takes a slow sip of wine. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” His eyes are intense over his glass as he watches Ethan rub at his eye, purposefully smearing his eyeliner a little further.

Ethan shrugs and shovels more shrimp in his mouth. Samothes gives him a narrow-eyed, skeptical look Maelgwyn’s learned to fear, but Ethan seems completely unfazed by it. “This is great,” he says as an aside to Samol, mouth is full of shrimp. Samol smiles brightly, and Samothes moves on, having recognized that Ethan is outplaying him by winning his father’s favor. The strain between them tightens a few fractions more.

“ Puis-je avoir du sel? ” Tristero says, gesturing to the salt shaker at Ethan’s elbow.

“ Ouais, ” says Ethan, leaning unnecessarily hard into the a to make it absurdly clear that he isn’t saying a proper oui. He reaches out and drops it into Tristero’s hand. Tristero’s eyes widen as if horribly offended, and he straightens his back self-righteously. Maelgwyn braces himself for one of his insufferable speeches on table etiquette.

“ Il ne faut pas passer le sel de la main à la main, ” says Tristero, growing steadily more hostile with each word. “It should be set down on the table in front of your neighbor so they can pick it up for themselves. I just thought I should let you know, seeing as they don’t seem to teach etiquette up in your country.”

“Oh,” Ethan says, reaching the point of hostility much faster. “I see. Well, let me put this in a way you’ll understand, since there seem to be so many cultural stumbling blocks between us. Je m'en fous.”

The table quiets slightly, everyone finally able to understand Ethan’s profanity (except for Samothes, who keeps eating his rice in blissful ignorance). Maelgwyn and the Tristés try to suppress snickers and smiles. Samot goes to snap at Ethan, finds himself in the position of not wanting to discipline a stranger, and instead says in exasperation, “Maelgwyn!”

Maelgwyn tries to stop smiling and look appropriately serious, but is only halfway successful. “Ethan,” he says, touching his arm.

“He started it,” Ethan says sulkily.

“I know, babe.” Maelgwyn finds himself rubbing Ethan’s shoulder and feels foolish both for acting like his father and for using a term of endearment for the first time. He should’ve rehearsed it earlier, as Ethan had. He drops his arm and goes back to his food, hoping he isn’t red in the face. Samot looks disappointed in him for taking Ethan’s side, but he doesn’t instigate the matter further.

“Well, it was always said that passing salt de la main a la main would cause a quarrel,” says Samol good-humoredly. There’s some reluctant chuckling around the table. The matter having been smoothed out enough to ignore, they continue picking at their plates. Still, there’s a considerable strain underpinning the evening. Ethan and Tristero keep trading blows, though neither escalate as far as the spat over the saltshaker. A steady, dull pain grows in Maelgwyn’s chest, and he starts desperately avoiding speaking with his parents. He almost thinks he’s home free when Samothes abruptly clears his throat and asks, "How are your films going, Maelgwyn?"

Maelgwyn swallows. "We don't really put out anything till third year, dad."

It’s not technically true, but he doesn't feel like explaining the intricacies of his projects to his father and watching his eyes glaze over. He waits for a followup question and gets none. Samot touches Samothes's arm, making it clear to Maelgwyn that he told him to ask, and then he speaks up instead. "What about you, Ethan? What do you study?"

“Performing arts,” Ethan says, sounding appropriately contemptuous and uninterested in regular human interaction for someone of his major. Maelgwyn can see Samothes’s face completely drain of hope that he had brought someone normal home. Samot progresses to rubbing his arm comfortingly. It’s awfully early in the evening for him to be doing that, which is a good sign.

“I see,” Samot says, “and do you know what you plan to do with your degree?”

“Perform art,” Ethan says flatly. There’s a chuckle around the table, mostly from the Tristé siblings and Samol. Ethan splits into a shitty grin. “I’m joking. You can’t do shit with an arts degree. It’s join the army or marry rich.”

The table finds this less entertaining. Samot’s hand goes still on his husband’s arm, and Maelgwyn can see him digging in his nails. Ethan sips his drink peacefully like he was just making pleasant conversation and as if Samothes isn’t staring daggers at him less than a day into knowing him. Maelgwyn finds himself wishing he hadn’t been thrown under the bus by association, but he still has to respect the balls Ethan has to have to act so unbothered by his father’s ire.

Samot lets out a fake, tentative laugh, pretending this is a joke to give him an opportunity to backpedal. Maelgwyn realizes he might’ve had too much wine. “But you… do have goals other than that.”

“Well, marry rich. I already said that.”

“That’s not…” Samot sighs. “Maelgwyn’s going to make films. You haven’t considered acting in them?”

“Sure.” Ethan drops his cutlery and pushes back his chair with a harsh scraping noise. “I mean, in case you haven’t noticed, you seem to be doing well enough for yourselves to look down your noses at me. I’m sure you’ll bribe someone to give your son a few dozen mil, right?” Samot’s mouth drops open in indignation. Ethan sits back, gesturing around at the dining room in all its faux-antique charm. He’s smiling one of his most horrible smiles. “Hell, I’m sure some portion of all this is willed to Maelgwyn, and your tête de la famille will keel over soon enough, won’t he?”

If Ethan’s previous outburst had quieted the table, this one completely kills all activity around it, forks clattering still and jaws pausing mid-chew. The silence is murderous. Adelaide chokes on something politely and brings a hand to her mouth. Samot sits back with his wine, staring at Ethan with open, intense malice for the first time in the night.

Samothes holds his knife like he wants to slice Ethan open with it. “What did you say?” he says, voice low and dangerous. It’s redundant. Everyone knows what he said. Ethan blinks at him.

“I said you’re doing well enough for—”

“No, you know what I mean. How dare you?”

Ethan slides back down, looking less confused than pissed off now. Maelgwyn tries to say something, but all that comes out is a squeak. It’s still enough to get Samothes’s attention, and he fixes him with his awful stare instead of Ethan. “How do you manage to be with someone like this? How could you trust him enough to tell him?”

Maelgwyn wants to disappear. He can’t even slink down in his seat, he’s so frozen with fear. The table hovers in its silence, no one daring to breathe. Samothes’s directed malice fades to an aimless fury. “You didn’t tell him,” he says quietly. It’s more of an accusation than a question. Maelgwyn shakes his head wordlessly. He feels like he was just plunged under six feet of water. Samothes sighs and looks to Samot. “Tell your son—”

“ My son?” Samot snaps, sitting forward again and sloshing wine onto the tablecloth in his indignance. Maelgwyn stares down at his plate and pushes around some rice, chewing mechanically without tasting his food.

“Aw, don’t kick up such a fuss,” Samol tries to say, but he’s spoken over immediately.

“I’m sorry, what was I not told?” Ethan says, something hostile about his tone even though Maelgwyn silently begs him to stay soft. He might’ve been pushed too far.

The table becomes abruptly quiet again. Samot and Samothes sit looking at each other, not knowing how to break the news. They’ve never known how to talk about it. It’s like the mere mention of it has plunged them back into grief as fresh as the day the news was first broken to them.

“It’s stage four,” Samol says softly. Ethan blinks at him, opens his mouth to ask a dumb question, and then understands and slowly melts into horror.

Samothes pushes his chair back with a horrible screech and gives Maelgwyn a look before leaving for the kitchen. The blame is shifted to him as always. Maelgwyn didn't do enough, didn’t behave properly enough, wasn't enough. He should’ve better informed Ethan about his family’s history, and yet he should never have brought it up—or brought him home—to begin with. Tristero stands up in a huff and completely leaves the room, slamming the door to the back porch. Angelo and Adelaide jump up to go after him, giving Maelgwyn looks of apology and pity. Severea regards her brother with a deep sadness, and she and her partner rise and follow them out more slowly. The festively decorated table suddenly seems ridiculous and inappropriate in the sober atmosphere. Maelgwyn feels like slinking under it, pressing his head into a corner and hiding for the rest of the night. He can hear Samothes washing dishes aggressively, trying to regain some sense of control over the world. The way he bangs each dish brings Maelgwyn back to the arguments that used to echo through this house in his childhood, and how badly he would flinch at every little noise.

Samot rises from the table, still fixing Ethan with an openly malicious look. He walks around the table slowly, scaring Maelgwyn more with each step. "You've got a little something," he says, and then hauls Ethan up by the scruff of his neck like a kitten and scrubs vigorously at the corner of his eye. He drops him just as quickly, looking furiously satisfied, and storms off to the kitchen after his husband. Ethan sits there, blinking and stunned. When he looks at Maelgwyn questioningly, he can see that Samot had wiped off the eyeliner he's been so insistently smudging towards his temple.

It almost makes Maelgwyn laugh despite everything, and then the hissing whispered argument beginning in the kitchen reaches him and all mirth he could’ve summoned evacuates his body abruptly. He took this too far. He knows that. He sinks down in his chair, every harsh consonant he can hear hitting him in the stomach like a blow. There’s nothing he can do. There never has been.

He, Ethan and Samol are the only ones left at the table. "I'm sorry," Ethan says, soft and genuinely regretful.

"It's alright, son. You didn’t know." Samol gets up and claps him on the shoulder. Maelgwyn watches Ethan re-evaluate how frail he is, how much trouble he has getting himself upright. For a moment Maelgwyn wants to burst into tears and rest his head against his grandfather’s bony shoulder and tell him everything, lay out their whole horrible scheme and try to explain why he thought it was a good idea.

He remembers confessing the fear and unease of his home life to Samol when he’d been a child in the midst of his parents’ impending separation, and the relief of Samol telling him he’d take care of it and letting him sit in his Marlboro-scented car as he walked into the house to chew his fathers out. Maelgwyn aches for the same sort of relief, but he still can’t bring himself to speak. He watches Samol make his way across to the door out to the back porch and rest his hand on the handle. “I’ll smooth things over,” he says in his effortlessly comforting manner, and steps out.

Maelgwyn feels a fraction better, but only that much. Even though there's no one left at the table, he finishes his dinner silently. Ethan sits there for a few more moments, then follows suit. He seems unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t think it would come up,” Maelgwyn says when he can be verbal again. It feels like a woefully inadequate excuse. Ethan looks up at him from his dish. He doesn’t seem angry with him, for which Maelgwyn is awfully grateful.

“I guess it worked in our favor,” he says, but he sounds unsure. He pushes his food around a little and then looks up again, eyes anxious. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t—Don’t worry about it.” Maelgwyn doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. He stabs a piece of shrimp a little too hard. It’s quiet for a few minutes as they finish their food. The argument keeps gaining traction in the kitchen, growing more and more heated. Samol is coughing outside. Something about the harshness of the sound makes something in Maelgwyn snap.

He gets up abruptly and slams open the door to the porch. It’s darker than he expected it to be, none of the porch lights on and the suburbs glittering in the moonlight in the distance. Samol is sitting on the edge of one of the porch swings, a lit cigarette between his fingers as he rests his hand on his knee. The Tristé siblings lounge on another of the benches, looking sullen. Their father leans against the railing at the edge of the deck. They all blink at Maelgwyn’s sudden, violent entrance.

"You're not supposed to smoke anymore,” Maelgwyn snaps at his grandfather.

"Maelgwyn," Tristero says warningly, but Samol waves at him and goes to stub out his cigarette.

"Naw, he's right. C’mon, Tristé, ain’t there been enough unpleasantness tonight?” Tristero glowers at Maelgwyn, but relents. He shoots an even dirtier look over Maelgwyn’s shoulder as the door opens. Ethan steps up beside Maelgwyn and puts a hand on the small of his back. Maelgwyn isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be a comforting touch or just a part of the act, but it makes him feel better to have someone at his back.

Tristero takes a step towards the staircase that leads down to the backyard as if Ethan’s very presence disgusts him. Ethan takes bold steps out to meet him, hand outstretched. "It's was good to meet you.” Tristero regards him with a moment of wary disdain, trying to figure out what he's playing at, before he clasps it.

"Have a good rest of your night," he says, enunciating his accent pointedly. The moment he lets go and steps away, Ethan jams his hand in his pocket like he wants to get rid of the feeling of touching him. Maelgwyn appreciates his dedication to his job, even if the rivalry he’s trying to embroil himself in might be a little bigger than his paygrade.

Tristero descends the stairs and walks off across the lawn into the dark. Galenica and Severea wait for him by a streetlight. Samol stays behind, rocking back and forth on his porch swing quietly. Maelgwyn wonders if he hates the family falling apart because of him as much as he does. “Where’s everyone going?” he asks Samol. All the venom has gone out of his voice, and he sounds small and tired.

“Just to take a breather,” Samol says evenly. Maelgwyn wouldn’t be surprised if he was lying to spare his nerves. His grandfather’s guitar is leaning against one of his rocking chairs, and Samol hobbles across to sit in it and pick up a quiet tune. Even if it doesn’t quite match the situation, it’s soothing. Maelgwyn crawls onto the porch swing he just vacated and sways back and forth miserably.

(Read part 2 here)

#friends at the table #marielda #ethan hitchcock #maelgwyn #maelethan

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nocturne-inuyasha-ff · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Twenty Three: The Human Condition

~ * ! * ! * ! * ! ~ = Flash back

o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o = Scene/POV change

Nocturne - Chapter Twenty Three: The Human Condition

Rated - M (for suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, and coarse language)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

Kagome jumped at the sound of the deep, familiar voice and slowly turned to see Sesshomaru standing in the doorway. She melted and felt fury all at once. It had not even been an entire day, and he'd come, but not when he was needed.

Setsuna battled with an urge to run up to and hug her father, instead, wearing an ear-splitting grin upon her young face and exclaiming, "Father!"

All had turned to witness his arrival, though none had noticed him, nor sensed his yoki.

Sesshomaru gave his daughter a nod of greeting but did not display any semblance of emotion outside of that. He was not one for public displays of affection. Even to greet her first was a significant indicator of her status in his eyes.

Kagome more than made up for any of Sesshomaru's shortcomings in that area. But while he lacked in that area - at least in Kagome's opinion - he more than made up for his affections through doting on his child through different means.

He had initially disapproved of Kagome kissing every cut and bruise, stating that would spoil and entitle her.

It was Sesshomaru's thought that by coddling Setsuna, she would be weak. To that effect, Kagome cleverly asked if he also thought her to be weak. It only took a couple of days for him to relax his view of "coddling."

Sesshomaru's eyes then glided over Kagome in an appraising manner that held a deeper meaning. She quickly turned her head to subtly inform him that she was still angry.

Inuyasha wore a confused grimace at the appearance of his elder brother, looking none too pleased. "You learn some new tricks? Hiding your scent so I can't smell you sneaking up on us?"

Sesshomaru narrowed his eyes at his brother's idiocy. He looked pointedly at Shizuka and sneered, his lip rising up in slight disdain.

"To think you have not noticed after these years," he chided coldly. "Yet, you are ignorant, preferring to allow the fox roam freely in the hen house."

Inuyasha stood up with a jump, placing a hand on the hilt of Tessaiga. He had made sure to retrieve the weapon after the recent episode of events. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

Sesshomaru ignored his brother's barely veiled act of insolent aggression. He looked around the room, resting his gaze on Kohaku longer than any. "You have all exposed yourselves and your number when you have laid unnaturally hidden from our enemy for years, thanks to your foundling."

Inuyasha would have none of it. "This is all your fucking fault, you goddamn hypocrite! You led them here through all your damn schemes and tangled us all in your mess."

"You still trust it, even knowing where it comes from and the risk you place on all here. It is to her they were drawn," Sesshomaru explained. "The fact that you place its life above that of your own brethren speaks volumes about your character. Though, it is unsurprising to this one."

Shizuka withered under the scrutinizing gaze of Sesshomaru, which caused Inuyasha to become even more incensed. "She never hurt anyone, you fucker! I dare you to say another word!"

Kagome had seen and heard enough of their brotherly squabbles. It was becoming ridiculous and not something she wanted her daughter to witness. "Enough! Both of you! Take it outside, so Setsuna does not have to watch her father," she looked to Sesshomaru, "and her uncle," she looked to Inuyasha, "prattle on like enemies."

Both aggressors looked over at Setsuna, who sat on the ground with her legs crossed and an amused smile on her face. Kagome noticed the girl's grin as well and groaned in disgust before stomping out of the house. The girl had too much of her father's blood running through her veins, always looking for her father's approval and a good fight. Even at nearly six years old, Sesshomaru had exposed their child to pride and prowess. Of course, she'd done nothing to stop it either. As if it were a bad thing to learn in the Feudal Era when the world would only go through strife before settling into the future she knew.

Kagome rushed out and walked away from Miroku and Sango's house, knowing her presence would not be missed with all that was happening. She felt frustrated with everything and herself. She had come to escape the lies and recent revelation that still weighed heavily upon her, yet she'd brought nothing but pain to her friends and family in the moments she'd arrived.

She felt bitter and downtrodden, her grief only spurred on by the discovery that Sesshomaru had not disclosed to her all he knew. And now here he was again, likely come to take her and Setsuna away for their own protection. As if she was not capable of protecting herself, she fumed. Her use of spiritual powers may have diminished, but she was more than proficient as a marksman, something she did not tire of practicing.

There was now a fairly decent distance between Kagome and the others. She would not stray beyond the village's perimeter just yet, but she was far enough away from Shizuka's strange ability to hamper the sense of demonic auras and would sense if any came upon her.

Kagome sat on a bridge that spanned over the gently flowing stream where women of the village came to wash laundry. No one was out right now, as the village reeled from the news of the recent attack. Despite the circumstances, it was to Kagome's liking as she rarely was afforded time to herself anymore.

She swung her legs back and forth, pointing her toes so that they barely touched the water below and kicked the cold droplets to spray in front of her. Kagome could feel his aura approaching at a slow and steady pace. She knew he'd come after her eventually. He was like his brother in ways he would be offended to know, stalking after their women like puppies with tails between their legs. It was a cute notion if she bothered to think about it, but her sullen anger was too great to allow such a thing.

His steps echoed on the wood of the bridge, announcing his presence. Kagome ignored him. She'd come here to get away from him after all, and it had not even been an entire day!

"Beloved," he began with an uncharacteristic tentative tone.

Kagome whipped around with a glare, daring him to call her another endearing name when she could not find one for him for the life of her. "No!" she hissed. "You don't get to follow after me and apologize. I am not ready to forgive you yet."

His gaze was cool as he regarded her, and Kagome seethed that he was still, after these years, so challenging to read. "This one has done nothing wrong in protecting what is his."

Wrong! Kagome's eyes widened. "So I am a possession now to do with as you please?!"

"You know this not to be true, miko," he said, resorting to calling her by her title. "You are mine, that is true, but only in so much that I am yours."

His gruff but tender words caused her to waver for a moment. "Yet, you treat me as a fragile piece of glass, ready to break with the slightest touch. Am I not enough as I am? You changed me, without my knowledge nor my permission."

"Had you the choice, would you have refused?" he questioned.

"That is not the point! I didn't have a choice! You took that from me."

"I fail to see why this upsets you so. You have been given the gift of countless years, beyond what any mortal should ever be inclined to live. You spit so carelessly on what others would kill for."

"It seems so unnatural," she said with a shiver and crossed her arms. "At what cost? All things come with a cost," she asked. It was a valid question. Nothing as profound as the gift of immortality came without a hefty price.

"I shall not see you die," he told her simply and unmoving.

"Death is natural. Humans aren't meant to live beyond their years. Am I something unnatural now?" she asked aloud, beginning to question what she now was. She hadn't given it much thought since arriving in the village. But now faced with the reality of what had been done, Kagome was gripped with a new insurmountable reality.

"Dying is only part of the human condition. Something you no longer have a claim to, miko. To think death is natural is merely a coping strategy for something inevitable to humans. Take joy in what you have been given."

Kagome was still too angry to feel joy, not when Sesshomaru had so carefully tiptoed around the fact that there was a price involved with her' gift'. "But there is a price, is there not?"

He sighed with resignation. "Not one that you will bear."

"What does that mean?" she demanded.

"Simply that you do not need to concern yourself with it."

She fumed. "Am I incapable of comprehending the price? Just like I am incapable of understanding the severity of the situation we are in now?"

His calm features did nothing to belie his innermost thoughts, an infuriating trait for Kagome, who wore hers on her sleeve. "You seem to already be aware of the fact that there were Fan Tsenpo's scouts probing the area. Otherwise, you would not have known to come so quickly."

"I was apprised of the fact after you left abruptly," he accused.

"But that doesn't explain why you're here," she retorted.

Sesshomaru made a resigned sound 'hnn' but did not offer an answer.

Kagome crossed her arms beneath her breasts and narrowed her eyes. "Just as I figured. You already knew it was bad, but you didn't tell me."

"This one would not have you fear for nothing," he defended. He felt no wrong-doing for his actions whatsoever, feeling wholly justified. There would be no apology from him.

She glared at him as she stood up and brushed past him making her way back towards Setsuna and her friends, shirking away from his touch as he reached out to her. If he would not explain, she had no time for him. By the rate of his actions, he would step over anything and anyone in his attempt to 'protect her' from whatever he deemed a risk, suffocating her with his protection until she was a compliant, good little woman, or so she imagined.

Sesshomaru did not follow her right away as she had expected he would. Good, she thought. She still was not ready to forgive him, though she ultimately knew she would and even without an apology. Kagome groaned inwardly at her inability to stay mad at those she loved. It was better if she stayed away for just a little longer so that words spoken in anger did not sully what they had.

~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~

They spent the night in the village. Kagome and Setsuna bunked with Sango and her boys. Their residence was the only one large enough to host guests anyway, but with Miroku and the twins still away, there was plenty of room.

Kagome knew Sesshomaru would not leave his woman and child, but he was astute in staying out of sight. Kagome was not sure where he would spend the night, though she knew it would not be far from her. She felt some ease knowing that.

After retiring for the night, Kagome grew restless. She could not sleep, tossing and turning on her borrowed pallet. Her mind would not shut off for anger and worry. Really she felt conflicted, a strange desire to seek him out and give him another piece of her

Mind only to be waylaid by the fear of the inevitable retribution, they were to be paid by their enemies. Kagome kicked her foot out and sighed.

Sango whispered over the gentle crackle of the hearth, "Why do you punish yourself? Just go out to him."

Kagome responded in silence, not bothering to acknowledge her friend's sage words. She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, though probably only minutes crept by.

Setsuna breathed gently beside her, a subtle reminder of why Kagome was angry in the first place. Her conception had started all of this, and Kagome thought back to those years ago in a dark cave, lit only by moonlight.

As stealthily as she could muster, she rose and made out of the house. If Sango had heard her, which was likely, she did not utter a word, and Kagome walked out into the warm, humid night.

The village was quiet and eerily so. Many of the villagers had bunkered down for the night, fearful of an attack from a powerful enemy. They were right to do so, but Kagome held little worry that Fan's army would attack tonight. The daiyokai was across the sea, and it would take more than an evening for him to receive word and rally his forces to move on them if he were inclined to do so.

Kagome had no idea where Sesshomaru would be, so ultimately her plan was to let him come to her once she'd gotten far enough from the village. She scoffed at the thought, knowing he would make her work for it, like always.

It was darker in the dense forest surrounding the village, but she held no fear. Even though she had no weapon, Kagome knew that a deadly being lurked nearby, ready to pounce on any who so much as looked at her threateningly.

She came to the stream that cut through the village and followed it west. It was this course that she had returned six years ago and, despite not knowing exactly where she was going, she knew it was the way.

She continued walking and continued to do so, counting as she paced along the stream's bank. All to keep her pace and track of the time in the dead of the night. Sesshomaru was very likely watching her but gave her no notion of his hidden presence.

After Kagome had trekked a couple of miles into the woods, she stopped and looked around. There was a fleeting feeling in the air around here that barely struck the peripherals of her memory. It hung heavy in the air, and as if forming a discernible trail, Kagome followed the path away from the stream. She had not gotten far when she saw it, the barely visible outcropping of rock that jutted up from between trees giving it a natural hiding spot.

Vines covered the mouth of the cave-like tendrils of mossy-green hair waiting to be parted. Kagome bit the inside of her cheek, reminiscing over an act committed long ago, not from love, but lust. She reached up to grasp one of the vines, but a voice startled her arm back to be clutched against her body.

"It is an unnecessary risk to bring yourself so far from the protection of the village."

Kagome swiveled on her heel, finding Sesshomaru leaning against a tree facing the mouth of the cave. "What worry do I have when you're near?" she responded with a weak smile.

"I am honored for the great faith you have placed in me unquestioningly. Yet it astounds this one that you do so now, but cannot find it within yourself to do so on other occasions."

She felt her heart drop a little, and in her hesitation, he took a step forward. "I trust in your ability to protect us, but I cannot help but feel inadequate if you cannot trust me."

o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o

This woman, the miko, his woman, was infuriating and intoxicating all at once. Her words said one thing while her body said another, and Sesshomaru, who was forever in charge of any situation, felt at a loss.

Sesshomaru had gone through great lengths to obtain the ningyo that the miko had consumed. The miko was correct when she had guessed at the price being insurmountable. To kill a ningyo would place a curse upon the murderer should they consume its flesh, which is why humans could never obtain ever-lasting life as they desired. If a mortal successfully slew a ningyo, which was an incredible feat seeing as how the ningyo were rare and crafty, they would gain eternal life at the cost of their own sanity. The ningyo flesh would corrupt and twist any who consumed them without mercy. That was the legacy of the ningyo and why they were not preyed upon.

However, Sesshomaru had learned a secret about the ningyo. The secret had been kept by his most honored father's last living retainer for centuries. Had Sesshomaru known this secret but 50 years ago, he would have exterminated the ningyo without mercy. The secret his father's retainer kept was that of true immortality without the price to the mortal. Sesshomaru had felt perplexed at first, wondering why his father, InuTaisho, would need such information before it dawned upon him. InuTaisho had planned to use the secret on his mortal woman. Fate, though, would not allow that to come to pass, and both his father and the hime had perished long ago.

Of course, immortality was still reliant on the consumption of ningyo flesh, but the trick lay in the way the flesh was obtained. Sesshomaru learned that if a ningyo gave its flesh willingly, the consumer would be granted longevity. But there was still a price, though not one so horrible as what was promised should he slay the creature outright.

FInding the yokai proved to be a feat all on its own, but nothing Sesshomaru could not accomplish succinctly. He had no need for immortality, so once he came upon the ningyo, the creature was unprepared to face him. The beast had implored him, pleading and promising him unimaginable power for sparing its life, but Sesshomaru was not one to be led astray by things he already possessed. He tactfully bartered with the ningyo for a pound of its flesh.

~ * ! * ! * ! * ! ~

"Whats ye gots to trade?" the creature had asked through needle-like teeth.

"This one has much, name your price, yokai." Sesshomaru had little respect for those beneath him, but he must treat the ningyo with as much courtesy as he could muster; otherwise, the trade may be void.

The ningyo grinned widely if it could be called a grin for one whose mouth was unable to close around its angler-like maw. "Youse has nothing I want, nothing worth even one of me golden scales."

Sesshomaru had to be tactful with the creature, lest it return and hide away in the sea for a century. His chance of finding another ningyo within the miko's lifetime was slim. "I offer up a part of myself intangible."

The ningyo's large yellow eyes narrowed in skepticism. "The price to be paid must be equal to what is given, lord daiyokai. I canst tells ye what to give, but like me flesh, it must be given freely. Tell me what ye will part with."

The great lord Sesshomaru had already assumed there would be such a price. He knew that his father was willing to pay the price, and he would as well without question. "A year from this one's own life for each year given."

Now those yellow eyes burned with an unknown hunger, bulging within the deep-set sockets. "Lord Daiyokai! A steep price ye shall pay, indeed. Be it the lass worth it, me hopes."

The creature had accepted the trade, though Sesshomaru did have uncertainty about what the small yokai gained from it. The ningyo used its razor-sharp claws to carve out a pound of flesh and surreptitiously handed it over to Sesshomaru. It nodded it's bulbous head and looked about before swimming off into the murky depths from which Sesshomaru had retrieved it, likely off to hide until the flesh grew back.

~ * ! * ! * ! * ! ~

Sesshomaru would never admit, even to himself, his fear. He had gone through great lengths to make certain those worries were never realized. That was why he had not explicitly informed the miko of his intentions. Those fears would make him weak, and weakness was not an option. Especially now that the circumstances were precarious. He knew that if she had known of the ningyo, she would have inquired on the price behind it, and if he were honest, she would refuse the gift; deny him. The miko would state that the price was too high and not something she would willingly accept. He knew this to be true for his woman was as selfless as they come, which was one of her intriguing qualities.

When the miko learned of the ningyo flesh through his treacherous mother, he inwardly knew that she would react in anger. He had prepared for that, too. He had not prepared for the army of Fan Tsenpo breaching the perimeter he had so precariously set so quickly. The man, Fan Tsenpo, was a tenacious one, indeed.

He closed his eyes in a rare display of acquiesce. "Truly, you must know that I am not as perfect as I would aspire."

The miko smirked at his admission. "There are some things about you that measure up to perfection, lord."

The miko's scent was a mixture of sensuous fury. She stepped closer, her arms still crossed but with a sultry look upon her face. Sesshomaru looked her up and down, attempting to understand whether this woman was angry or not. It was difficult to tell at times, even for one as astute as himself. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

A gentle breeze blew through the area, buffeting her scent into him. The fury, the joy, were palpable, but something else was there as well. His eyes turned ravenous, and an inner voice spoke to him, egging him to become something else entirely.

o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o

The way he looked at her, hungry eyes roving up and down her body, spoke volumes. Kagome felt her insides do somersaults from anticipation and wetted her lips. She could feel her heart begin to pound heavily in her chest, and she wondered vaguely how someone could make her feel so giddy and desirable after so many years.

She glanced behind, over her shoulder with her sultry smile, and felt another wave anticipation course through her veins. It was very ironic to end up where it had all begun years ago. She scoffed to herself once she figured that Sesshomaru had led her here intentionally, somehow.

He stepped closer and leaned forward, inhaling her sweet scent from the crook of her neck while running his deft fingers through her hair and along the side of her neck.

He hesitated for a moment, pulling back and looking into her eyes. Kagome felt her breath catch and her traitorous heart skip a beat. "Is something wrong?" she asked softly, hoping like hell he had not finally grown tired of her.

His jaw clenched, and he seemed to be at war with himself rather than anything else. "It is your fertile time," he told her in a whisper.

His words were meant to be a caution, but his words tickled her ear and made her feel reckless. They had been careful, or rather Sesshomaru had been careful. Always calculating the time to be away when she was likely to beget a child. Kagome had not once questioned his frequent trips, sometimes seeming spontaneous, even for him, but her own monthly cycles had always been sporadic and unreliable.

Maybe Sesshomaru was afraid, if that were even possible, of a repeat. Kagome knew that he had revived her with Tensaiga and she also knew that the feat could only be done once. Could he be worried that she may find an untimely demise at attempting to bring a new life into the world? She pushed it from her mind, other more scintillating thoughts taking precedence.

It seemed that a similar thought process had taken place with him as well once he ultimately ground his teeth and placed his forehead on her shoulder, his silver hair falling over her in argent waves. His left hand gripped her shoulder tightly, holding on to maintain control, but the rest of him worked autonomously.

Kagome groaned once his hand found its way under her shirt and began to fondle her breast, caressing her nipple. His head still rested near her neck, where he waited for her consent. His tongue worked expertly upon her ear becoming more encouraged by the breathy exhale. She could barely make out his golden gaze appraising her from her peripheral vision and looking at her lustily.

Her fertile time was delicate in terms of lovemaking. Sesshomaru could smell it on her, and the demon within him wanted to take her by any means necessary. Her scent drove him wild with barely contained lust, and it took every ounce of control to contain himself, which is why he usually took great pains to be absent during that time.

Kagome secretly enjoyed it. The idea of being ravaged was intriguing and frightening, especially when it came to her daiyokai lover. Now, knowing that he could be a little rougher was an aphrodisiac all on its own.

He was growing impatient and pulled her kosode down, exposing her breasts. She gasped, feeling the cold air on her bare skin and then gasped again once the cold sensation was replaced by the warm ministration of Sesshomaru's tongue. It seemed he would not be waiting for a response, but she had never denied him, so perhaps it would even out. Besides, if he stopped, she would only beg him to continue.

His left hand released her shoulder and made its way down her skirts, delicately touching her legs, stroking closer and closer towards the cleft in between. Sesshomaru was always careful of his claws, but that made it difficult to live in the moment. He snarled softly in frustration, removing himself from her momentarily.

Kagome pouted from the lack of contact but watched him curiously. He looked at her from lowered lids and carefully and meticulously bit off his long claws. They would grow back, and he needed them blunt for what he planned to do.

While she watched, he crushed against her, crushing his lips to hers in a quick, almost desperate motion. His hand shot back down her skirts, and he gave a soft gasp of his own when she reciprocated with a firm grasp on his hardened member through the heavy folds of his outer layers. His brow clenched, and his hardened gaze now softening like butter under her grip. With a moan that was more like a growl, Sesshomaru turned her body and pinned her against the tree where he had waited outside of the cave. His own clothes had become a nuisance and barrier between them, so he deftly removed them in a matter of seconds.

Kagome stood against the tree, portions of her body exposed to him and her breasts heavily swaying up and down with each panting breath. Sesshomaru took a moment to compose himself, knowing if he continued, he would not be able to stop without possibly hurting her. "You are no longer angry, miko," he asked, despite the words coming out more as a statement than anything.

She crossed her arms in front of her breasts and gave him a level look. "Keep it up, and I will leave you here, high and dry," she warned.

Her scent was too potent for her words to hold any truth, and Sesshomaru felt his control slip at the slightest notion he would be denied at this point. A guttural sound erupted from his throat, and he all but pinned Kagome to the tree, snatching her hands up and away from her chest. Once he'd removed the barrier there, his hand plummeted back down to continue touching her cleft. A glorious smell was emanating from that region, soft and lustrous that begged to be lapped up.

He brought his hand, dripping with wet fluids up to his lips, and licked his finger with a lapping tongue. "Exquisite," he purred with a smirk.

Kagome felt her cheeks burn, and she turned her head to break the sensual contact that was nearly overpowering. Sesshomaru grabbed her chin and brought her back to face him and then licked her bottom lip to entice her to open her own. She relinquished, opening to his kiss that beckoned for more.

She felt him push up her right leg, grabbing behind the knee to place her in an easily accessible position. She continued following his kiss with a fervor of her own and used her hand to find the soft, hard length that brushed up against her hip. She wrapped her fingers around it, barely able to encapsulate the girth with her fist and relished in the moaning sounds he breathed into her from his barely parted lips so close to her own.

Kagome's enclosed hand stopped running up and down his shaft once his blunt fingers entered her, gently at first, then with a pumping frenzy. It was a rare, exquisite feeling she was often not granted, so she enjoyed his handy work. She stopped moving all together once she felt the build in her core, the thought of doing the same to him forgotten with this new sensation. Her head lulled back a little to rest against the tree's bark behind her, and she could see through passion-slit eyes that Sesshomaru's own began to bleed red into the sclera of his eyes.

She snapped rigid, hyper-aware, and nearly forgetting herself. She was not afraid, but concern made her pull her leg down slightly from Sesshomaru's grasp. This action elicited another low growl from him. She placed her hands upon his chest and looked up into his crimson gaze. The gold iris still held a very carnal look to them, beckoning yet frightening at the same time.

He allowed her leg to fall and pushed down her skirts and used the other hand to free her from the remainder of clothing to leave her just as exposed as he. Sesshomaru fell to his knees before her, grabbing her around the middle to pull her closer to him. Kagome gasped and put a hand behind her against the tree to brace herself, but it was not necessary. The grip he had on her was vice-like, and she could not move had she wanted to. She let out a tiny gasp once his tongue brushed against the most sensitive part of herself. He continued to weave his tongue in deft motions back and forth, taking the time to part her tender folds with his fingers, pushing her leg back up and out of the way with a firm hand.

Kagome drug in a ragged breath and twisted her hands into his silver locks. The build was rising up, and she could not stop the moans that escaped her lips. She began to call out his name between her panting breaths, "Sess...sho…ugh…"

"Please!" she yelled, despite herself, once she was nearly at the apex of a climax. All sensation ceased, and Kagome felt herself fill up with a different torment. "No!" she cried, almost pathetically.

"No?" he grunted with mirth from his knees. Sesshomaru rose to his full height, looking down on her with the red, gold eyes.

Kagome was desperate, and repaying the favor seemed an optimal idea to continue, so she now dropped to her knees and grabbed his member before placing the tip in her mouth. She'd barely touched it with her tongue in a sweeping motion before his jaw went slack and his hands gripping her shoulders. She had not given him this pleasure often due to her own inexperience and embarrassment, but his reaction encouraged and emboldened her to continue.

With hollowed cheeks, she lowered her mouth as far as she could and sucked as she moved back. The motion became repetitive, and she had to assume she was doing well judging by how he bit his bottom lip and pierced the flesh of her shoulder with his one clawed hand. She cried out in pain with him still in her mouth, but it wasn't all bad, and she did not want him to stop making those dirty faces.

His grip became tighter, and she knew that he must be close to the same precipice she had been on before. She began to suck harder and more vigorously, but Sesshomaru barked aloud, "Stop." His voice was low and commanding, authoritatively clear.

Kagome looked up at him and released his member, pausing to moisten her lips with her tongue. She saw his eyes widen, and the sanguine color nearly envelop his gold irises. He released his grip on her and fell back, her buttocks resting against the ground with her legs splayed out beside her. She was sure she looked very sultry in this position, but her own jaw went slack when she saw Sesshomaru lift his blood-soaked claws to his face for further scrutinization. He let out a mirthless chuckle and brought his fingers to his mouth to sample the taste of her. "Invigorating. Your blood is just as enticing as the fluids that now drench the sides of your thighs."

She looked down for a moment with a new wave of embarrassment, seeing that she was dripping wet. In a moment of self-consciousness, she squeezed her legs shut, but her modest thoughts were cut through once Sesshomaru enveloped her with his warmth and placed his mouth on her shoulder where she was openly bleeding from the wounds he had inflicted upon her with his razor-sharp claws. His tongue lapped at the blood, and the feeling was strange and exhilarating all at once. She moaned beneath him and absently wondered if daiyokai drank blood like vampires of lore.

His knees pushed hers open, breaking her from ridiculous thoughts and bringing her back to the present. Her legs were splayed open before him now, and he was poised over her like a predator poised to strike. "You are mine," he growled, his eyes glowing.

Kagome said nothing but trembled beneath him. Her silence seemed to infuriate him, and he barked, changing from sensuous to dangerous in a second. "Say it!" he commanded. His voice was loud and imposing, daring anyone to state otherwise. Those who dared would meet a swift demise.

Her breath hitched in her throat, and her body betrayed her, opening like a flower to be ruined. "I am yours," she whispered, not in fright, but in agreement. She was his and had been since that day, not ten feet from where they lay six years ago. A spell may have brought them together, but it had only uninhibited them both to their own subconscious desires.

He seemed appeased, and a lopsided grin replaced his dangerous gaze. His lips moved down to hers, and he thrust into her with a hard, splitting force. Kagome moaned into his mouth, and he plunged in and out with needy thrusts. The man was frenzied and assaulting with his need that was nearly overpowering to her frail body in comparison. She was pushed back against the base of the large tree, between two of its overgrown roots jutting out to hide their bodies from view from the rest of the forest.

She grit her teeth and moaned into his broad, muscled shoulder. Her arms were holding onto him to steady her body for his encroaching thrusts. Sesshomaru seemed to be pushing her into the tree to achieve deeper thrusts. His hands gripped her buttocks and guided her up and down on him, constantly hitting the spot deep within that made her groan.

He was incensed by her groans but was unsatisfied by their position. His desire to fill her overcame him and ran him with primal purpose. Sesshomaru pushed her towards the opposite direction and flipped her over in a quick, smooth motion. She was like putty in his claws anyway, so soft, subtle, and delicate yet yielding to his predacious needs.

Kagome let out a tiny yelp when he pushed her to her knees and thrust into her from behind. Her arms gave out on her, but her rump remained in the air, caught in Sesshomaru's grip. His clawed hand held her hip firmly, but he leaned over her back, planted his hand on the ground beside her, took his still blunted hand, and held her from a different angle. From this angle, he rubbed at her most sensitive spot. She bucked from the touch, but he held her in place with his swift finger motions, and she began to sway back and force with his thrusts and gliding over his tantalizing fingers.

How could he be everywhere? She vaguely wondered as her thoughts became clouded with erotic pleasure. Even as he had given in to his primal need to claim her, he was still able to give her the most excellent feeling. It began to blossom between her legs and radiate through her entire body as a wave of orgasm coursed through her due to the simultaneous thrusts and constant teasing to her tender pearl. Kagome screamed out a breathless cry to the forest and spasmed slightly beneath his touch.

A triumphant grunt could be heard above her and Sesshomaru grabbed her hips once again to reach a climax of his own. Kagome was still riding out the ebbs of her own pleasure, moaning loudly with each thrust, and her eyes widened once she felt one great final thrust that released everything inside of her. He gave a few more lazy thrusts as if to ensure his seed had been sown within her, but there was no need.

Kagome sighed once Sesshomaru pulled himself from her, leaving her momentarily cold. She relaxed once he laid next to her, resting on an elbow and looking down on her sweat-sheened face. She dared to peek at him with a tiny smile and found he wore one of his own. His hand trailed down her arm, causing her to shiver, and she scooted closer to his warm body.

They both lay quietly, basking in the post-coital sensation, and neither wanted to break the silence. Kagome gave a contented smile and rolled to her back so she could look up into his eyes properly. The red she had seen before was now gone, his usual serene look taking the place of the former feral one. "Your eyes had gone red," she commented absently.

"Hnn," was all he responded while staring at her different features, toying with her hair and running lazy circles on her skin.

"I've never seen it before," she added, hoping he would elaborate.

"Your scent is tantalizing," he told her. "I cannot control myself, especially now that I can smell my own seed within you. It is making...this one...see through red gauze." He leaned down and kissed her gently, and she gasped when she felt his fingers entering her swollen cleft.

She tried to push him away, "Have you always been this needy?" She smiled and let out a small laugh despite herself.

"This one is not 'needy' as you so basely put it. If that were even remotely true, you - miko - would find difficulty walking for months, if not longer."

Kagome sat up a little, rising on her elbows. "Oh, so what your telling me is that Lord Sesshomaru is a relentless sex hound." She smiled and laughed, "If that were the case, I'm surprised you've been so gentle with me these past few years."

He rolled on top of her, enclosing her between his two arms. "I have adopted a method of moderation, but since you have called my virility into question, perhaps that fallacy should be rectified."

She tensed a little once he slid into her wet folds, her body readjusting to the full feeling that could be nearly registered as a feeling of completeness.

This time, he was more sensual and gentle, enjoying every bit of her for as long as possible and marking her with his scent along as much as he could. Kagome relished, in his keen appreciation of her body, and, at some point in the night, fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

She awoke the next morning, a slightly chilly breeze rousing her from her contented slumber. Kagome moved her arm to rub her eyes and felt the soft, velvet fibers of Sesshomaru's pelt. It was warm and comforting, indicating that he had spent the night next to her. It also meant that he was relaxed enough to allow himself to slumber, which was something he seldom did. He claimed that yokai needed next to no sleep, but Kagome figured otherwise. Every creature sleeps, she rationed. But Sesshomaru chose not to sleep often, only sharing their bed to share in lovemaking.

Kagome moved her legs, but they were sticky, and she groaned, knowing she would have an uncomfortable walk back to the village.

Sesshomaru pulled a stray hair from her face but laid back with an arm behind his head. "It would fill this one with content to awake next to you every morning, seeing you refreshed and smelling of me." His golden eyes flickered as he regarded her.

She smiled lovingly and moved to kiss his lips. As she did, he gripped her bottom and squeezed, causing her eyes to bulge. "You lecher! Have you no shame! It is daylight, and anyone could see us!"

"You only have yourself to blame, beloved. Your fertile time drives me to take you to your wit's end," he said huskily.

Kagome could feel him harden beneath her, and she gave a little squeal before jumping up and snatching up her clothes to shield her body. "No more! We must get back before everyone starts to worry."

"Why should they worry?" Sesshomaru asked innocently.

"Because we've been gone all night, and it's nearly late morning now."

"Your cries last night were loud enough to alert them to your….plight," he teased with a straight face. Kagome hoped he teased and blushed before turning away.

o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o

He regarded himself in the tarnished mirror, sneering at his reflection. The tarnished half, inflicted in his rage, hide the part of his face, which was permanently marred into a smirk. Fan touched at the puckered skin that would never heal and allowed a strange sense of calm to wash over him. The mangled reflection usually drove him to fits of angry outbursts leveled at any unsuspecting person that may cross his path, which meant that everyone avoided him as much as possible. However, it was difficult to avoid one as powerful as Fan Tsenpo, who commanded respect and unwavering loyalty of so many, despite his violent tendencies.

They had increased as of late, those eruptions, and there was one person in particular whom Fan enjoyed tormenting the most. Fan swiveled away from the mirror in his private rooms and made his way towards the gardens.

Rebuilding the palace had not taken much time, anyone new to the grounds would never know that half of the area had been nearly destroyed. All looked fresh and new. It was there he found her, his twin, his other half.

"Dear sister," he called out.

Despite knowing he approached, she shrank when he called out. Tsering turned and acknowledged her brother with a false smile. It angered him that she would pretend all was well, but he needed her. He needed her to fear him and appease him in whatever fashion befitted him.

"Brother," she said in a dull yet cheerful voice. Tsering stood from her perch on a bench where she had been looking out over the flowering grounds, passing the time contemplating over womanly things. "You seek me out?" she asked tentatively.

Her cheeks had hollowed, and her skin turned pallid. The woman was confined in a gilded cage, no longer free to roam alone after the travesty that had befallen Fan at the hands of his Nippon enemy. Fan blamed her, but could not bring it upon himself to kill her just yet. Now that he knew her demise would not harm him, he often mulled the idea over, but that would leave him alone. The woman could still prove useful.

Fan eyed her up and down, slightly annoyed that she would allow herself to become a shell of her former vibrant self. No matter, he thought. "I only wanted to see my beautiful sister." His hand went out and clutched her by the throat, and his unscathed lip pulled up into a nefarious smile.

Her eyes bulged, and tears threatened to spill. To cry in his presence would have only sent him over the edge. Fan loosened his grip only slightly and caressed her chin with his thumb. "You startle too easily, sweet sister."

"I am sorry," she whispered from beneath his grasp.

He released her and turned his back, locking his arms behind him. "You are so much more than sorry," he told her. "I have plans for you, my dear. Plans that will rectify what you have unleashed upon our family and the DaiOzuko."

"The DaiOzuko have charged you for your callous behavior. You know what they threaten." Tsering challenged. Her switch to a defensive position was amusing, and Fan only allowed it because it played into his plan.

Fan turned around to see a fire in her eyes. How quaint. "You know I am unfazed by those old fools. They've grown complacent, and the only reason they've continued to thrive is that I have no desire to usurp their supposed power. They are nothing but a pair of haggard figureheads, withered, and ingrown. We shall see what they think of my next move."

His sister knew the truth of his words. She probably had hoped that he would heed their words of warning, but the DaiOzuko was nothing more than a name. Fan relished in her trembling figure. "Of course, brother," she whispered.

A loud screech was heard overhead, announcing the arrival of Fan's messenger, the Zhenniao. The large bird circled lazily, making its way down to land before his master. Its talons scratched at the earth, and its wings spread out in a broad span as it bowed low in reverence.

It eyed Tsering suspiciously upon rising. Fan usually received his messages alone, always dismissing his sister to her own devices. Fan gestured for the bird to continue.

"Masssster, I bring newsssss of your army," the Zhen bird clacked.

Fan subtly eyed Tsering, basking in her pronounced shock. She had no inkling of any such thing. It was almost insulting how little attention the woman paid to him, he determined.

"Feng hassss ssssent word that all isss ready. He warnssss of the child and her unique prowesssss."

He chuckled at the news. "I would expect no less from such an extraordinary specimen. I'm inclined to do the same." Fan deliberately glanced at Tsering with an innocent look upon his face. She must be piecing together where her brother had raised an army, and it was a sight to see when it clicked for her.

The Zhen bird turned its head to look upon its master with one of its eyes, waiting for instructions.

"Advise him to proceed. We shall strike while the anvil is hot. I cannot imagine that Feng would be able to contain his excitement enough to stay concealed," he sighed in feigned annoyance. "No matter, they will not expect us to rally so quickly. I've sown seeds throughout that land long enough, it is time to reap the harvest."

The zhennaio nodded and pushed its large body off into the sky, flying away to spread the message. Fan placed a hand over his eyes to see the messenger off, feeling his sister's consternation behind him. "It looks as though the time for your usefulness has come, sister."

o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o

Fanfiction.net - Chapter Twenty Three

#Chapter Twenty Three #Nocturne #Sesskag #Fanfic #Sesshome #Sesshomaru #Kagome

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confusedgoldenflower · 3 years ago

Text

An Aftermath Etched into Souls

Fandom: Ancient Egyptian Religion

Relationships: Ash/Set (Ancient Egyptian), Horus/Set, Seth/Heru, Setekh/Heru, Nebuty/Setekh, Aset/Wesir, Ash/Horus, Nebuty/Heru, Ash/Seth/Horus, Nebuty/Setekh/Heru

Characters: Ra (Ancient Egyptian), Horus (Ancient Egyptian), Set (Ancient Egyptian), Ash (Ancient Egyptian), Thoth (Ancient Egyptian), Nephthys (Ancient Egyptian), Isis (Ancient Egyptian), Osiris (Ancient Egyptian), Wesir | Osiris (Ancient Egyptian), Setekh | Seth (Ancient Egyptian), Heru | Horus (Ancient Egyptian), Nebuty | Ash (Ancient Egyptian), Aset | Isis (Ancient Egyptian), Nebet-Het | Nephthys (Ancient Egyptian), Djehuty | Thoth (Ancient Egyptian), Ap/o/phis (Ancient Egyptian), Shu (Ancient Egyptian), Tefnut (Ancient Egyptian), Nut (Ancient Egyptian), Geb (Ancient Egyptian), Anubis (Ancient Egyptian), Yinpu | Anubis (Ancient Egyptian), Ammit (Ancient Egyptian), Heru-Wer | Horus the Elder (Ancient Egyptian), Horus the Elder (Ancient Egyptian)

Other Tags: Soulmates, because why not, I'm spicing up the fandom, LMAO, Slow Burn, ? - Freeform, Idk I have no patience though, we'll see how it goes, Natural laws mean nothing, they're gods, I ain't gonna tell them no, Post Contendings: Ancient Egyptian Mythos, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Ancient Egypt, Wing fluff, Wing Grooming, Wings, Magic, Transfiguration

Summary: After the Contendings between them, Heru (Horus) and Setekh (Seth/Set) go their separate ways. Heru goes to his father's throne, and Setekh tries to consolidate everything that has happened in the last few centuries; what happened prior to the birth of the five siblings. There is much to reflect upon and the past decades left lasting damages of various kinds for everyone. Ra sees this and makes an executive decision on how he thinks they can heal--or heal one another... binding two souls or hearts together.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32563603

Chapter One: Reunion of Hearts

“You’ve returned....”

Setekh turned from the blood stained sunrise to look at the temple oasis he had found himself not able to approach any further. The voice was gentle. Oh, so gentle. It had been that way for so long even in his vague glimpses of memory.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me… us…?”

He smiled kindly, or as kindly as he could for as far as a deity of bloodshed and burning sand is capable of gentleness. His heart wavered.

“Nebuty, I… glimpses, only, but I remember. I only want to know how you are and then I will be off.”

The figure a couple dozen paces away stumbled forward as if pushed. He stepped closer, but his outstretched arms caught nothing in the air.

“No, stay! If you can… I would like that.”

The Great God of the Sahara never found himself at a loss for words but…, “after all that has happened and all I have done?”

There was a lapse in spoken words as their eyes bore into one another’s. The wind stirred the sand forward. Surely the Lord of Oases had overheard the gossiping of travelers by then.

“You don’t remember our last night together? I know that even reborn as you were, you would never do something like that--or anything else. It is the humans and their scribes and their allegiances to stories.” Setekh couldn’t bear to stare into those eyes and so he looked away. The figure moved, bare feet against the limestone and then gently crunched on the sand. A warmth took over his hand.

“At least stay today? Please?”

An exhale akin to a sigh and dying breath left him then and the corners of his lips turned up. Setekh was pulled into Nebuty’s temple without struggle.

Frankincense and sandalwood wafted beautifully strong through the limestone corridors. It made the dry heat tolerable, at least that’s what a human may say, but for the specific deities of the desert and the oasis, this was ideal. Nebuty, however pleasantly thriving in such a state well into the desert, did not look over the many humans that kept up the temple and devoted themselves to him. They were all so very dear to him; such special spirits that were free to take from his oasis what they would. They also shied away from the villainous red haired god of calamity, eyeing him warily as he walked with their lord.

It didn’t go unnoticed by either, how the humans reacted. Setekh pretended he didn’t see any humans at all and Nebuty’s heart was saddened as he recalled the desecration of Setekh’s own temples generations ago. No human would be old enough to remember it. Not now. But gods remembered and gods could be hurt by men.

He swallowed hard as his temple faded to heaps of burnt offerings, incense and objects alike aflame with broken chairs and tables, even effigies of Setekh. What wasn’t able to be burnt was looted and subsequently melted down or otherwise brutally disfigured. He’d knelt there and wept and lost all notion of time before a cousin came to rouse him. That had hurt even more for his dearly beloved’s name had been spat in hate already. So much so that he couldn't even recall the exact god that came to him. Shouldn’t they have known?

“Nebuty,” a chest thrummed deeply like the whirling thumps of a distant sand storm. He blinked and registered his home and his beloved who looked back at him with a face that had learned to color such emotions as concern. He merely nodded and offered a smile for them both as he shuffled a bit closer. Setekh didn’t protest or push him away.

As a singer’s ethereal voice reverberated off the painted plastered walls and ceilings, he led the other to the rooms where he liked to stay. The temple attendants were ushered out. Then they were alone.

Nebuty stared into Setekh’s blood red eyes, the color he painted the morning sky after slaying the truly evil serpent bent on utter destruction of creation. His skin prickled and he fought the urge to sway on his feet like an uncertain adolescent. Why was this silence so… wrong?

“We have much to talk about?”

Setekh sighed heavily and let his eyes close as he looked away, “I have grown so weary of talk; that is all they do!” He growled while stalking away then stopped abruptly. Nebuty stepped toward him.

“It isn’t my intention to bring this into your temple,” but those eyes still hadn’t come back to look into his. He missed that boring depth. That perfect but miniature reflection of the desert.

“I brought you into my temple and so I have brought your troubles here as well. Stay,” he added quickly, before Setekh could make argument and leave, “let yourself be rejuvenated here.”

Setekh nodded silently. Nebuty grabbed some wine as he led the other to the richly decorated, sha-headed couch.

“All this time, how have you been?”

He smiled quietly to himself, Setekh never was good at serious conversation.

“It’s lonely out here but it is home… you make it so.”

Setekh was silent, staring at nothing. Those swirling red eyes were shining with thought. Neither of them ever really needed much conversation anyway, and so Setekh vaguely felt himself pulled down to sit beside Nebuty.

“You want me to stay?” The words were certain, almost harsh but he had long ago hidden his heart away.

Nebuty leaned against him even in the sweltering heat, “of course I want for you to stay with me… again.” The silence stretched long. The singer had long since passed over the first song. Eventually, he allowed himself to relax against the other and, “breathe in such bliss after so long.” Nebuty didn’t risk injury to Setekh’s scattered emotions by telling him he had spoken allowed, only basked with him in one another’s company.

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

“Yes, yes, I am well aware we are all exhausted from recent events,” Ra began with a brief pointed look at Heru, “but I have decided something. And while it is my doing, I do not have dictation over it; no one does.”

“Well?” He questioned in the height of Ra’s summer heat grabbing them even in the shade of the stone ceiling.

“I have decided to tie souls together.” Ra paused without elaboration. He was no doubt where Setekh inherited his, albeit enhanced, air for dramatics. A hush of steely whispers passed over the assembled deities.

“So if one of the souls dies, the other does as well?” Setekh questioned, seemingly bored. He had his head rested on a hand and the elbow on the table. He hadn’t touched his wine. Heru had, it was the only thing that was borderline cool. Ra regarded his distant offspring with what could only be described as an air of some sort of affection.

“No. Merely, souls that have been aligned; I know not who neither can I transfer nor repeal it. But each of you will know. I see my grandchildren Nut and Geb have-.”

“And yet you separate us!” Came the son’s envenomed words, “but the space between earth and sky must remain.” Shu, their father, interrupted, unperturbed.

“As I was saying,” Ra regained the conversation and Heru imagined the feathers of the solar disk bearing falcon to be ruffled and hassled in annoyance. A sip of wine hid his small smile.

“You will know when you know. It is to be happy, children, all this strife and violence has greatly weighed upon me and I have little doubt, you all as well. So I made a solution. What say you of my ingenious idea, Setekh?”

“I’m not sure, allow me to ask Pharoah,” Setekh smirked pettily as he turned his head to Heru who took in a breath and set down his goblet, he could feel his mother’s dissatisfaction radiating off of her form, though he had no choice but to agree.

“I am not sure as of yet, this is new and quite impulsive,” he jabbed at Ra.

The elder creator deity chuckled, “More so than you questioning the wisdom of those older than you? I have been thinking on this for a very long time.” Djehuty nodded his approval from nearby. Setekh’s eyes shone with a certain sort of amusement.

Heru’s eyes narrowed, “and the point of this? How could forcibly tying us together possibly see an end to violence.”

“Mated souls,” was the only reply.

His mother raved audibly when they left and returned to their new home, the royal palace. He listened silently, taking note of everything she said. He spoke when her acceptance of a ripe fig gave pause to her ranting.

“Can you feel who you are attached to?”

Her brief pause in chewing gave indication of her thinking, “...your father.” He smiled.

“We did not need Ra’s bizzare intervention to tell us that we love each other,” she remarked quietly.

“Does he know?”

“Oh, yes, I told the winds to tell him what happened earlier.”

Had he been too caught up in thought to have missed that? He had been sure he had been listening attentively but….

“This is just a ploy for Ra to stay relevant, there is nothing to worry for.” She sighed out, fire gone.

“Come now, you still have meetings to attend, my son, the day is not yet over.”

He obeyed and saw to his duties, but he did feel as if there was something to worry for. The air was hot and his body was sweating, yet he felt oddly cold. Like being alone without anyone around to offer even so much as just their presence. It chilled his bones.

“Mother,” he asked when they were finally left alone, “how can you tell it is father that your heart is tied to?” Her head tilted slightly, a tick that his father once told him endeared her to him beyond reason.

“It is a softness… a lingering… somehow so difficult to describe. But… I feel almost wrong here and know that I would be perfectly content with his company.”

“I see.... I think I will go for a walk.”

She revered him for a few seconds, “alright. Be safe, my son.”

“I always am. I love you.”

Her smile stretched almost triumphantly like it had when they’d won over Setekh, “I love you more.”

He transformed into a falcon and departed her company. Aimlessly soaring through Shu’s separation almost stripped away the day’s trials and tribulations. How many days had it been anyway? Since he’d been fully blessed with his father’s inheritance…. No matter, he was doing well under Aset’s careful tutelage and the country’s people were satisfied with their new monarch. He watched them, his people, moving around on the ground. Adults were working still as there was some light yet left and small children ran about, doing away with their last energy stores to be put to sleep easily. It made his heart happy in a way that filled him so much that he couldn’t breath almost.

Temples and Faiyums passed below him. Rich and poor alike were blessing the incoming night and burnt offerings of resin were already being lit. An air currant brought him down to zip between the mud brick houses. Although he was not recognized in such a form without great procession, the children shrieked with delight. Some dogs gave chase, and the cats could hardly care about him in favor of the vermin that were ruining food stores. He rode the current down to where he no longer had any lift, then transformed back into his humanoid form.

“Here,” he whispered as he touched a column in the shade of the stone structure. So many memories… so many-.... just, so much. He hadn’t cared to hide himself from the view of mortals for they knew better than to enter even the radius of the place.

“Are you looking for Setekh?” Heru jumped at the sudden and unfamiliar voice, “he is not here, and it may be best to leave him be, at least for quite some time.”

He stared at the other deity, sure he had had some sort of knowledge about their entire and sprawling family by then, but he could not identify the other.

“Oh, pardon me, Pharaoh.” The other added with his kind face and soothing voice.

Heru finally came out of his shock, “and you are?”

“Nebuty.”

“Beloved of Setekh,” Heru thought aloud.

“Yes,” Nebuty smiled. Silence lapsed between them as the shadows stretched further and further on the limestone floor.

“You do have eyes like the Great Green Sea beneath a bright sky,” Nebuty finally said, seemingly impervious to the awkwardness of their transaction. It was then that Heru realized that the sun must have been shining off of one of his eyes as it sank below the Western sands.

“Thank you…. Ah, I am not familiar with you…?”

A brief look of panic, realization and shock passed over the other’s face, “I stay in my temple within the sands of the desert. I came out for… the first time in a long time to see everything even if it hurt….” Nebuty’s voice trailed sorrowfully off as he turned to stare in the western direction despite the still blinding solar disk.

“Within his desert? It pains you?” Something akin to a mounting dread weighed Heru’s stomach down and bound his feet to the floor.

“Yes, well, it is good to see Kemet in good order. The people are happy and the harvests seem bountiful. I am glad.” Before he could think, he found his hand closed around the other’s arm as Nebuty had turned West to return to where he claimed he came from.

“Wait… how can you be in Setekh’s desert?!” He motioned towards said landscape to give emphasis to his words but nearly stopped short when his keen eyes noticed a roiling tension.

“His anger has been peaked by today’s meeting, you cannot go now!” He continued.

“It may also be because you grabbed me,” Nebuty returned calmly. Heru blinked a few times. This was so beyond anything he had experienced up to that point.

“You need not fear for my well being,” Nebuty pulled Heru’s hand off of him, “I am actually safer within those fiery parameters he lords over.” Heru watched Nebuty, the one that was the beloved of Setekh, walk away and disappear into the darkness both of night and the sandstorm.

He shook himself from his shock and resolved to focus on promising punishment if the storm came into the Black Lands and harmed people or farms.

Yes, that would have to be sufficient… but then why was there such a deeply set chill that night?

~~~@%*^*%@~~~

“Anything of note?” Setekh asked immediately in the shelter he made for them in his sand storm.

“The people are happy and the country is protected,” Nebuty returned. Setekh gave a curt nod before beginning their way home. Only then did it occur to him that what he had said had offended the other. I know you are a fine king. But he knew better than to press that particular matter.

“Any trouble?”

“No, I hid myself from the humans’ gaze. However, I recognized Heru.” Setekh stopped and whirled around. The storm around them spiked in veracity.

“He came back to the meeting place. I know not why but assumed it had to do with you, considering the place’s utter emptiness and all but certain locations for everyone else but you.”

“What did he say,” Setekh demanded and if it wasn’t for those decades they had spent together and the longing in his heart, he might have flinched.

“He was confused and did not know me, then was worried for me when I had to depart. Perhaps he went back to try and make sense of Ra’s declaration? Humans often say it helps to be in the location where something happened.”

Those fiery eyes that somehow reflected light well into the darkness of night looked beyond him then, squinted. He took a clenched fist into his hands.

“Come, I am sure we are both tired from today’s happenings.”

The other bodily folded around him then, “you spent too long away.”

“Hmmm,” he responded and closed his eyes into the embrace. This was where he belonged, and where his heart was whole.

#Egypt fanfic #Kemet fanfic #Set #Heru #Ash #Nebuty #Setekh #Horus #Have a good day and stay safe #friends!

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criminaljusticeresearchquestions · 4 years ago

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missingmywing · 7 years ago

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Chasing Freedom

This was heavily inspired by Beloved by Sinnatious (Go read it. It’s amazing. It’s on AO3). As several people have said, there aren’t enough post-DOC fics. There especially aren’t enough post-DOC Genesis fics. Or Strifesodos fics.

And I still love with the idea of people getting nervous about all the SOLDIERs still running around, and Cloud having to deal with the WRO attempting to bring all the SOLDIERs into protective custody.

Cloud disapproves.

So do the other SOLDIERs.

I have so many ideas… But I’ll be going about this completely differently than Sinnatious. Because… well. Spoilers. You’ll have to see.

Disclaimer: Square Enix owns FFVII, not me. I’m just messing with the characters.

Chapter 1

… . .

Cloud leaned close over Fenrir as he sped along the road back to Edge, eying the many hidden spots along the sides. Monsters were still a problem, even if they had lessened in both strength and numbers since the destruction of the Mako reactors, and he knew better than to let his guard down.

Plus the uneasiness that had settled in his gut a few days ago was bothering him.

His goggles protected him from the worst of the wind, allowing him to keep an eye out without too much hinderance, or many blind spots.

Though it appeared that the monsters were all elsewhere today.

He made it into Edge easily enough, without suffering any attacks. He kept an eye for civilians on the road, but they appeared to have the sense to stay off the road and away from oncoming traffic for once. The sun was out, most of the remaining clouds formerly around Midgar having been driven away by Vincent’s fight with Omega a few months previously, and the air was comfortably cool. By all rights, it was a beautiful and perfect day.

So why did he feel a knot of cold dread in his stomach?

He shook it off as he walked into Seventh Heaven, though he didn’t forget it. He’d learned long ago to trust his instincts, he wasn’t about to stop now.

“Cloud! You’re back!” Denzel waved from behind the bar, wide smile on his face.

Cloud returned the smile with a small one of his own. “Denzel. How have things been?”

The boy shrugged slightly, brown hair falling into his eyes to hide their bright blue sparkle. The flecks of green within them danced as he answered, “Pretty good. Our regulars are coming in, the Turks come in pretty often, Reno keeps flirting with Tifa, she keeps hitting him upside the head, and Avalanche keeps in contact. The normal.”

Cloud’s lips quirked slightly at Denzel’s definition of ‘normal’. “Is that so? What about school?”

Denzel made a face.

Cloud raised a brow.

Denzel grimaced. “It’s… fine. I just… don’t really agree with some of the things that the teachers say. Some of them are sympathetic to Shinra which I don’t really agree with, but I don’t mind too much. But there are some of them…” He scowled down at the counter. “They’re extremely anti-Shinra, to the point of bad talking some of the more well-known people who used work for them.”

Cloud understood. “SOLDIERs and Turks.”

“Yeah,” Denzel huffed, grabbing the cleaning cloth and attacking the bar with a vengeance. Cloud watched him sympathetically.

He knew Denzel looked up to him, and he did his best to be a good role model. But because of what he was, who he used to be… it came with issues. And thanks to how often the Turks came in, to the point of practically being regulars now, Marlene and Denzel had both become rather fond of them. The Turks returned the favor, and there had been many times where they’d come in and handed something to the kids.

Marlene had an entire shelf dedicated to seashells from Costa Del Sol that the Turks brought whenever they were in the area.

Denzel had an entire bookcase for materia for his collection that someone kept giving him. Denzel refused to say who, and the Turks never confessed the culprit.

(Cloud suspected it was Reno. Despite the redhead’s care-not attitude, Cloud knew he was still guilty over Sector 7. And considering the look on his face when Avalanche and the Turks had finally explained the events leading up to Meteor Fall, and how much alcohol he had been drinking during the explanations… None of them had been sure how Denzel would react to the information, and the Turks had been slightly restless during the story (the only sign of their nervousness), but Denzel had just listened quietly. He’d spent the next couple of days avoiding everyone as he thought over the information and came to terms with it, then he’d walked up to the Turks, punched Reno in the stomach, and called it even. The Turks weren’t normally overly emotional people, not with their true emotions at least, but for a second Cloud thought that Reno was going to cry from relief. He liked Denzel.)

Cloud sighed. “Well, there’s not much that you can do about it. Trying to defend SOLDIER or the Turks… won’t end well.”

“I know,” Denzel grumbled. “That’s why I haven’t. But I don’t like listening to it.”

He yelped as Cloud ruffled his hair lightly. With a laugh, he brushed Cloud’s hand away.

“Cloud!”

Cloud chuckled. “Tifa in?”

“No,” Denzel shook his head. “She went out to restock. Marlene is still with Barrett, but they’ll be back tomorrow.” Cloud nodded and made his way towards the stairs, pausing when Denzel called, “Oh, Cloud!”

“Hmm?” He glanced back.

“You got a call from someone. Ku-something. He said that he had a package that needed to get to a village near Fort Condor. He said you already had his number.”

“Ah,” Cloud nodded. “Yeah, I know who you’re talking about. Thanks for letting me know, I’ll call him back.”

“Sure.”

Once Cloud had dropped off his baggage, he made his way to the church; taking the opportunity while he was between deliveries. He was unsurprised to see a hooded figure kneeling between the pool and the Buster sword on the alter.

“You called, Kunsel?”

The ex-SOLDIER glanced up, hood and goggles hiding his features from view. “Hey, Cloud. You’re back sooner than I thought you would be.”

“It was a fast delivery.”

“Really?”

“I made it as fast as possible. Faster, when I saw the way some people were acting.”

“You saw what happened?”

Cloud didn’t respond. His expression darkening, he walked over and kneeled by the pool, dropping his hand and allowing his fingers to brush the surface of the water.

“I guess that’s a yes. You were delivering there in New Corel when it happened,” Kunsel murmured.

There was no answer.

With a sigh, the ex-SOLDIER shifted and allowed his legs to dangle off the alter. “Tensions are rising, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Kunsel huffed. “I guess if anyone did, it would be you.”

“Or you,” Cloud retorted, glancing up at him. “Denzel said you had a package for me?”

“Gaia, that kid works fast.”

The blond raised a brow. “He didn’t call back to let you know I was here?”

“No. Kid’s almost as paranoid as me, he doesn’t want to risk the call being traced. It’s not usual behavior to for them to call the client to let them know you’re back, after all. He’s smart, would make a good info broker.”

“So what, have you been camping here waiting for me to get back?”

“Pretty much.”

“Why? I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“Nothing more important than this. Anything else I can use my PHS for.”

Cloud’s gaze sharpened. “What’s so important about this?”

“This.” Kunsel pushed himself up off the altar and leapt across the water, landing lightly next to Cloud. “This package right here.” He reached into his cloak out said package. “You have no idea the pains I went through to get these made.”

“What is it?”

“Bangles. I had to do a lot of sneaking them around to get them completely covered, but they make the wearer immune to every status effect possible.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” Cloud frowned, accepting the package. “I have the Master Support Materia, remember?

Kunsel froze for a second, then slapped his forehead with a groan. “How did I forget that?”

Cloud paused putting the package in his pouch. Kunsel didn’t forget things. Kunsel never forgot things. “How much sleep are you getting?”

“Not enough,” Kunsel grumbled. “As the most accurate information broker on the planet, I’m spread a little thin trying to keep my network in working order on top of taking client orders.”

“You can’t afford to put it on pause for a day or two?”

Cloud didn’t even have to see Kunsel’s face to know he was giving him a look.

“I’m not even going to deign that with an answer, Strife. I’ll deal with it one way or another. At any rate, what’s done is done. Those are made, and I’ll come to you next time I need something like this. Get that to the forest camp. You know where.”

“Alright.”

“Good. How’s Commander Rhapsodos?”

“Fine, last I heard.”

“Good, I have a feeling that we’ll need him soon.”

“Hopefully we won’t.”

“Hopefully. But I’ll be keeping an eye on things just in case, so I’ll let you know if anything new comes up.”

“Thanks. You know how to reach me if you need me.”

“You got it.”

…

“You’re leaving so soon? You just got back last night.”

“I know.” Cloud glanced over at Tifa. “But I got an emergency delivery.”

“Emergency…?”

“I think it might be medicine or something. He seemed pretty urgent.”

“Medicine? What for?”

Cloud shook his head. He felt a bit guilty lying to Tifa, but this was a secret he wasn’t willing to share with anyone outside of the people directly involved; not even Avalanche. “I don’t know. He’s a regular though, and he hasn’t dealt with any of the shady groups showing up, so I’m not worried.”

Tifa huffed crossly, but smiled. “Alright, if you say so. Come back soon, okay?”

He flashed her a small smile. “I’ll take a few days off after this delivery and help out around the bar.”

“Sounds good. You can help me keep Reno in line.”

“Heh, like you need my help for that.”

“Extra help is always appreciated,” she teased before turning more serious. “Be careful, Cloud. I’ll see you when you get back.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Tell Marlene I’ll be back soon.”

“You got it.”

With another nod, he kicked Fenrir into gear and sped off, heading for the forests near Fort Condor.

…

Cloud bent low over his bike as he sped towards the forests, reflecting on the events leading up to his first meeting with the crimson commander.

. .

“Kunsel. You needed me for something?”

“Hey Cloud, been a while. I see you got my message.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to pick up your phone.”

“I was busy. What did you want to see me about?”

“A rumor I picked up, thought you might want to check it out. You remember SOLDIER First Class Genesis Rhapsodos, the Crimson Commander?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“He’s still alive. One of my contacts, a former Red Leather member, spotted him just outside Mideel.”

“He’s still alive? And why Mideel…?”

“Personally, I think that he’s going back to the Banora area. That was his hometown, you know. You happen to know anything about why he’s alive?”

Cloud began to shake his head, then paused and began thinking back through Zack’s memories that he had. He slowly shook his head. “No… Zack fought and beat him while we were on the run, at the… Banora caves, I think. But… I don’t know if he killed him or not.”

“Probably not, if he’s back. I wonder where he’s been though…” The man glanced over at Cloud. “I’d go investigate myself, but…”

“You don’t have the time.”

“Pretty much. And besides, if it comes down to a fight, you’re better suited for a confrontation.”

Cloud frowned. “Do you think he’s a danger?”

“I don’t know. There’s a lot that even I still don’t know about what happened. Go talk to the guys at the forest camp first, though. They’ll probably have their own opinions on what should be done about him.”

“Alright.”

. .

Cloud slowed to a halt about two miles into the forest. A quick glance around showed nothing of interest, but another scan revealed the dark-haired sentry in the tree a little to his right.

“Yo, Strife!”

He nodded in greeting. “Karson.”

The former Second Class leapt down from the tree and landed a couple of feet from him. “It’s been a while. How’ve things been?”

“Fine.” Cloud shrugged slightly.

Karson rolled his eyes at the bland answer. “Uh huh, sure. We heard what happened in New Corel, and that you were there. The guy’s being brought here. Kunsel’s network is sneaking him past all the traffic and stuff. That why you’re here?”

Cloud grimaced at the reminder, but shook his head. “Kunsel sent me with a different delivery.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Cloud pulled out the package, showing it to him. “They’re bangles, four linked materia slots and an immunity to all status effects. Should be enough for everyone, with a few extras for any new arrivals.”

Karson whistled appreciatively. “Nice. He must’ve went to a lot of work to get these.”

“So he said.”

“He doing okay? We haven’t seen him in a while, just know that he’s keeping the intel networks running.”

Cloud sighed. “He’s… doing about as well as can be expected of someone running the world’s largest information network. Or second largest, depending on how large the Turk’s network is.”

“Fair enough. Go ahead and get that to camp. The commander’ll hand ‘em out.”

“He’s running everything, then?”

“Pretty much. Everyone was pretty wary at first, but we got him to spill everything. Before the degradation he was a good leader and we all trusted him. He cared about us. And now that he’s cured, he’s that person again. We’re not holding the insanity caused by the degradation against him. Not much, anyway. Besides, all the major scientists are dead, so we don’t exactly have to worry about being turned into copies anymore.” He shrugged. “Which is basically the reason we gave him the benefit of the doubt in the first place, if you remember.”

“Yeah,” Cloud murmured, “I remember.”

. .

“Hey, thanks for the delivery, Strife! I’ll get these back to the camp. You gonna stick around, or…?”

“No.” Cloud shook his head at the ex-SOLDIER. “I have something else to check on before I head back to Edge, and I told Tifa I’d be back in a couple of days.”

“Where you headed?”

“The Banora caves.”

“Ah, looking for Commander Rhapsodos?”

Cloud set him a sharp look. “How did you…?”

“Kunsel told us to keep an eye out.” Karson shrugged. “In case he showed up. He mentioned that the Commander was spotted near Mideel, so most of us made the logical leap that he was heading back to Banora. It was where he grew up.”

With a sigh, Cloud nodded. “Yeah. I thought it would be good to double check, at least.”

“Probably is.” Karson nodded sagely, then grinned. “If you find him, send him here.”

“Are you sure?” Cloud frowned. “Considering what happened…”

“You know what happened?”

“I know bits and pieces, even if I was just in the infantry.” And if those bits and pieces came from Zack’s memories, well, they didn’t need to know that.

“Heh, well, we already discussed it. Figured we’d at least get his side of the story rather than relying on the information supplied by Shinra. And we’ll figure out how to deal with him afterwards. SOLDIERs dealing with SOLDIER problems and all that.”

Cloud eyed him for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

. .

“See you later, yeah?”

Cloud nodded. “I won’t stay long. I told Tifa I was making an emergency delivery, and that I would be back soon.”

The other man waved him off. “Yeah sure, whatever. You know you can hang around as long as you want.”

Cloud shook his head and kicked his motorcycle into gear. “I’ll see you later, Karson.”

Karson smirked and waved him off.

The path was well hidden, but easily found to anyone who used it regularly. Cloud drove along it quickly, ignoring the underbrush along the sides. This close to the camp, all the monsters had been long cleared out.

It was still a little strange, the knowledge that Genesis Rhapsodos was not only alive but was in charge of a large camp of SOLDIERs. Especially considering his attitude when Cloud had found him.

. .

Cloud sped up as he entered the forest of Banora Whites. In the ten years since Shinra had bombed the area, the trees had grown unchecked and turned into a large, dense forest filled with apples and monsters.

Cloud couldn’t decide if he loved the place or hated it.

On one hand, it was a good place for releasing frustrations on particularly bad days, having a lot of decent but low level monsters to tear through as well as being isolated from people. On the other, it had quite a few bad memories that he had carried over from Zack, and they gave the place a bad stigma for him.

He had no interest in fighting monsters now, however. He was here on a mission, and he had a specific destination in mind.

Every now and then he would have to kill a monster that attacked him, but he had an All paired with a Mastered Thunder, which worked well enough to keep his journey unhindered. It didn’t take him long to reach the caves.

He turned off Fenrir, comfortable in the knowledge that monsters wouldn’t touch it unless he was on it. He locked First Tsurugi together and clipped it to the magnet on his back. With no idea how the former First Class would react, he wasn’t taking any chances.

It took a bit of exploring (and finding some new materia to take back to the forest camp) before Cloud found himself at the entrance of a large cave, with a giant broken statue and a piece of red materia that was larger than any he had ever seen. Even the Huge materia couldn’t hold a candle to this.

Standing in front of the pile of collapsed stone, back to the cave entrance, was a red-cloaked man with red hair. He must have heard Cloud coming, for he began speaking without turning around.

“There is no hate, only joy, for you are beloved by the goddess. Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds.”

“LOVELESS.”

“Act II,” the man agreed, turning around. “So, we finally meet.”

“We’ve met before.”

“Have we? I saw you, but you had no awareness of the event.”

“No,” Cloud murmured. “I didn’t.”

Genesis Rhapsodos examined him thoughtfully. “You look like a SOLDIER now. When I last saw you, you still looked somewhat like an infantryman.”

“I’ve changed over the years.”

“Clearly.” The Crimson Commander eyed him, hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. “So, what does the hero of the Planet want from me?”

Cloud narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know, if I see him I’ll ask. I want to know what you’re planning on doing.”

Genesis raised a brow. “Oh? So you don’t consider yourself a hero?”

“That’s a description for Zack, not for me.”

“Yes, I suppose so. So then, what are you doing here?”

Cloud eyed him warily. “Looking for you. The remainders of SOLDIER have started gathering together for protection, and they want to talk to you.”

“Oh?” Genesis shifted his weight back, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I suppose they want my head for everything that happened.”

“No,” Cloud frowned, “they want to know the full story of what happened. They want to know the truth, not the lies filtered through ShinRa.”

The redhead hummed, considering. “Hmm, I suppose that makes sense. And you came to retrieve me for them?”

“No, I came to verify the rumor that you were still alive for Kunsel.”

As he was hoping, dropping the info broker’s name gave Genesis a pause. “I see. So,” the ex-commander tossed his head, “he still has an insatiable need to know everything.”

Cloud narrowed his eyes. “He’s what’s keeping accurate information circulating across the Planet, and what’s keeping all of the remaining SOLDIERs from being persecuted every time they make an appearance anywhere. And even that bit of protection is starting to wear thin.”

Genesis eyed him thoughtfully. “So, do the SOLDIERs actually want the full story, or do they want me to come lead their gathering? Because I rather doubt that I’m in any position to be a leader any longer. I’ve…” His eyes flickered to the side. “… failed too many.”

“I don’t know. They didn’t tell me.” Cloud turned and started walking away. “You’ll have to ask them yourself.”

There was a surprised silence for a moment before hurried footsteps sounded behind him. Genesis fell into step beside him, watching him curiously.

“You were serious about simply investigating a rumor.”

“I don’t do search and capture, or search and destroy. Not people, least. I eliminate the occasional monster if it starts terrorizing a village, but mostly I deliver, I investigate, and occasionally I rescue. I investigated you and delivered the message. My job here is done. What you do from here is your decision.”

Genesis caught his arm, staring at his face searchingly. “You’re… nothing like I expected.”

“I get that a lot.”

The redhead was silent as he followed Cloud out of the caves. As they reached Cloud’s bike, he spoke up. “Where is the camp? If they wish to… speak with me… then I need to be able to find them.” It was obvious, both by his tone and by his expression, that he wasn’t expecting for them to actually listen to his story.

The fact that he was going anyway, despite seemingly expecting to be killed or persecuted, spoke more about his character than any of his previous actions in Cloud’s mind.

He slung a leg over his bike and slid his sword into its compartments. With a glance towards Genesis, he indicated the seat behind him. “Get on. You’ll never find it on your own, they’ve hidden it too well for that.”

Genesis stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. At Cloud’s raised eyebrow, he hesitantly followed the instructions, settling on the back of the bike and raising his hands. He seemed unsure where to put them. Rolling his eyes, Cloud pulled the man forward to settle his arms around the blond’s waist. The redhead spluttered in surprise, but didn’t let go.

“If you don’t hold on, you’ll fall off. I made Fenrir for myself, so it’s built for a SOLDIER. It goes too fast for someone to just sit on the back.” He glanced back, taking in Genesis’ wary look towards the wheels and ground. “Have you never ridden a motorcycle before?”

“It’s never been necessary. ShinRa always provided other transport, and when I left I had a wing for my own transport.”

Cloud sighed. “Just don’t let go and you won’t have to worry about falling off.” He slid a hand along the front of his bike. “He can handle a lot of rough treatment, and since I doubt you want to be recognized we won’t be taking the roads.” He pulled his goggles on. “Cross country is faster anyway. Keep an eye out for monsters, though. They like to attack me when I don’t stay on the roads.”

He smirked slightly at Genesis’ apprehensive look. It wasn’t as bad as he made it out, but he was feeling a bit vindictive thanks to the redhead’s part in the events surrounding Sephiroth’s fall from grace. If he could get a bit of mostly harmless revenge, well, who was going to tell him no?

. .

The various SOLDIERs relaxing around the camp glanced up as Cloud came to a stop at the end of the road. He nodded to them as they called out greetings, making his way to the large canvas pavilion in the center of the camp. Tents were pitched in a large circular area around the center, in both the clearing and the surrounding trees. A few of the more adventurous souls had pitched tents up in the trees themselves, earning them all various bird nicknames. “The Nesters” was affectionately used to refer to the lot of them. They accepted it with pride.

Cloud found Genesis eyeing a map and various spreadsheets on the large table. A couple of former First Classes were with him, and Cloud picked up the tail end of a conversation about supplies and restocking as he drew near.

“You know you can always ask Kunsel. He probably has information about the best and most covert places to get large amounts of supplies.”

“Yes, most likely,” Genesis agreed, absently holding out his hand for the package he knew Cloud was delivering. “However, I’d like to avoid relying too much on him all the time. I’m sure he’s already spread thin enough without needless concern about our ability to gain the necessary supplies.”

“Yeah, probably,” Cloud sighed, handing over the bangles. “He went through an enormous amount of effort to get those bangles immune to every status effect available because he forgot that he could ask me to use the Master Support Materia.”

All three of the former SOLDIERs froze, staring at him.

“Kunsel forgot?”

“Yeah.” Cloud ran a hand through his hair with a grimace.

“I… didn’t think that someone with perfectly photographic memory could forget something.” Hendrick, one of the First Classes, murmured.

Cloud shook his head. “He refused to tell me how much sleep he was getting, so I’m sure that’s part of it.”

Genesis sighed, raising a hand to rub his temple. “Next time you see him, tell him that if he gets less than four hours of sleep a night more than two days a week, I’m going to forcefully confine him to camp for a week.”

“I’ll pass the message along.” Cloud hid a smile at Genesis’ obvious concern. The man’s constant concern for his men was reassuring, considering his past actions. It was something that set them all a bit at ease. Though from what he’d heard, Genesis was different in more than just that respect.

He’d always looked out for his men, up until the degradation incident, but he didn’t really get involved with them very much. He took responsibility for them, and he motivated them, but he’d been distant and didn’t really get to know them. On top of that, he’d been well known for having an explosive temper. When Cloud had been a Cadet there had been all sorts of horror stories about him, and how he would set any Cadet to annoyed him on fire. Granted they had just been rumors in the Cadet barracks, but it was a fact that even those in SOLDIER itself had been wary of the man’s temper.

Now, from what he’d heard, Genesis knew every SOLDIER in the camp by name, face, former position and class, and their general backstories, as well as having much firmer control of his temper.

“I saw that, Strife.”

“Saw what?”

“You know what.”

Cloud didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “It’s just good to see your settling into your role. For someone who isn’t really in any position to be a leader anymore.”

Genesis sent him an unamused scowl. “It certainly wasn’t something I was expecting. Though it’s not very hard to get used to it again and settle back into the role. Something you’re already aware of, I’m sure.”

“Not really. Most of the large-scale dangerous events haven’t taken long enough for me to actually start taking charge. We usually finish up fairly quickly.”

“There is no hate, only joy, for you are beloved by the goddess. Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds.”

“Could you be any more passive-aggressive?”

“I don’t know, do you think I should try?”

“It’s kind of like watching an old married couple, isn’t it?” Jared, one of the First Classes, murmured to Lynall, the other.

“A bit, yes,” Lynall murmured. “Some people just click, I guess.”

Genesis and Cloud both snorted, Genesis sending them a glare and Cloud rolling his eyes.

“Keep talking and I’ll put you both on latrine duty.”

They both cringed, and Cloud gave them a sympathetic wince. With enhanced senses that was… even more horrible of a job.

“At any rate, I’ll make sure that the bangles are spread to everyone. Are you staying for food or are you heading back to Edge?” Genesis glanced over at Cloud.

He hesitated for a moment, considering. It was tempting. It was always nice to be around other ex-SOLDIERs. Even if he’d never made SOLDIER, he had the enhancements and some of the memories.

He played it off as having been told stories by Zack. Genesis was the only one who knew how deep Cloud’s connection with Zack ran. Likewise, Cloud was the only one who knew the full extent of just how close Genesis had been to Angeal and Sephiroth, and knew what was said by Genesis to push Sephiroth over the edge. They’d extended the trip to the camp a little to talk through the events that happened and make peace with their respective ghosts. They’d argued, at one point they’d even drawn their swords and fought, but in the end they’d settled the events and their differences and worked around them.

He was always welcome here and he knew that, and it was nice, because as much as he cared for Seventh Heaven and Avalanche and the kids… they just didn’t really get it. The Turks did, but they had been part of the problem and they were still a bit wary around him With the others, Cloud had to worry about his enhancements. If he wasn’t careful with his strength he could hurt them, of he moved too fast he would make them jumpy and nervous. Well, Avalanche at least. The kids thought it was cool. But the members of the former anti-ShinRa group didn’t like to be reminded that he was something a little more than human. Vincent and Nanaki didn’t mind of course, and Shelke was similar to him, but the fully human members… If they weren’t fighting for their lives, they didn’t want to remember that he used to work for ShinRa, that he was stronger than humanly possible.

So it was tempting. But he’d told Tifa that it would be quick, and he knew that Denzel was missing Marlene. So he shook his head. “Not this time. I told Tifa that it was an emergency delivery, and that I would be back soon. Maybe next time.”

“Maybe.” And Genesis sent him that smile that he’d been getting more often, a mixture of wicked heat and soft warmth and hope that did things to his heart and head. He felt his face start to warm up, and cursed his pale complexion and increased pulse rate. “I’d say to give the Turks my regards, but I’m supposed to be dead.”

“I could always say that you passed the message through Aerith.”

“You could, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Where, huh?” Cloud murmured.

Genesis winked at him. “I’ll see you at the next delivery, Cloud.”

“Yeah,” he hesitated for a moment, “Stay safe, Genesis.” He walked off, making his way to Fenrir as quickly as he could without seeming in a hurry.

He paused as his phone buzzed, and flipped it open to see a text from Kunsel.

From: Kunsel

You know, eventually you two are going to have to stop dancing around each other and actually do something about it. Preferably each other.

Cloud’s face heated up even more as he sent a quick reply before he closed his phone and started Fenrir to head back to Edge.

When it reached Kunsel, the info broker rolled his eyes in annoyance. The hero of the world could be quite a handful at times.

From: Cloud

I really don’t know what you’re talking about.

Sure he didn’t. The look on his face in the video Lynall sent him said otherwise. Why he and Genesis were dancing around each other when they were both aware of the mutual feelings… Though maybe that was a bit obvious.

Kunsel sighed and looked down at the new newspaper giving a vague explanation on what had happened in New Corel. Things were getting complicated and dangerous, and the last thing they needed was a potentially volatile relationship getting caught up in the mix.

“Well, it won’t stop the men from placing bets,” Kunsel murmured, folding the paper and sliding it in his bag. At any rate, he had more important things to do than speculate on romances.

Trouble was brewing in the WRO, and he had a very bad feeling that they were about to have to weather a storm.

… . .

Chapter 1 complete!

This is very fun, I have to admit. I don’t write Kunsel enough, but he’s so much fun. Denzel too. I have plans for Denzel.

And I didn’t plan for Cloud and Genesis to be that couple that everyone knows about their mutual pining and the most common response is “they need to just kiss already!”. Or I did, but I didn’t plan for them to be… flirty about it. Especially not yet. It was supposed to be and almost slow burn, for the first few chapters at least. They were supposed to be mostly oblivious to their own feelings and each others. They’re not. At all. They just know that a volatile romance mixed with a volatile situation is a very bad idea. They might work out to be that perfect couple. They don’t want to risk it. So mutual pining it is! For now. That’ll change once the pace of the story picks up.

I like writing mature Genesis. He’s easy to write, because he’s gotten over his jealousy issues. I can’t write jealousy. At all. I… don’t really get jealous, so… I have trouble empathizing. Mature Genesis is snarky and sassy and confident, but he’s learned humility and guilt, so he isn’t obsessed with being the strongest anymore.

Anyway, this is definitely a story I’m enjoying. Let me know what you think!

Wings, out~!

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esonetwork · 5 years ago

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Fall Movie Preview 2019

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/fall-movie-preview-2019/

Fall Movie Preview 2019

Fall movie season is here! This is always my favorite time of the year to see movies. There’s such a wonderful variety of films available to see in theaters. Everything from awards season contenders, indie darlings, and exciting space adventures! Get ready to make your way to the theater because this looks like it’s going to be a great season at the movies. Let’s take a look at what’s coming soon.

SEPTEMBER September 13th The Goldfinch Starring: Ansel Elgort, Oakes Fengley, Nicole Kidman, Finn Wolfhard Bring the tissues and prepare yourself for a rollercoaster of emotions because this is gonna be a wild ride. The Goldfinch is based on the Pultizer Prize winning novel by Donna Tart. This is one of the best books I’ve read recently, but it’s quite an emotional journey. It follows 13-year-old Theo Decker after the traumatic death of his mother in an art museum bombing. It’s a haunting and powerful story about the human condition once grief becomes a prominent force in one’s life. The film is directed by John Crowley with Roger Deakins as director of photography. That’s what I call must-see cinema.

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Hustlers Starring: Jennifer Lopez, Constance Wu, Cardi B, Lili Reinhart Based on a New York Times article, former strip club employees band together to hustle their Wall Street Clients during the late 2000’s financial crisis. This looks a bit like the heist of Oceans 8 meets the real world story of Molly’s Game. It has quite a star studded female cast of movie/TV/and music stars and is directed by Lorene Scafaria (Seeking a Friend at the End of the World, The Meddler.)

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September 20th Downton Abbey Starring: Michelle Dockery, Maggie Smith, Hugh Boneville, Jim Carter You love Downton Abbey, I love Downton Abbey. Everyone loves Downton Abbey. I can hear the theme song playing in my head just thinking of the movie being released. That’s right, the beloved TV series is coming to the big screen. Hopefully, it won’t be anything like the season 3 finale. (Real fans know the pain and struggle. We can’t go back to that time.) In the film, Downton Abbey will be visited by the royal family. I’m sure it will make for quite an impressive cinematic experience. As a fan of the show, I can’t wait to see it all on the big screen!

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Ad Astra Starring: Brad Pitt, Tommy Lee Jones, Liv Tyler Just two months after showing the world that he doesn’t age in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Brad Pitt is back and he’s going to space. It makes sense, fall is the only logical time to release a film in the space genre. (The Martian, Interstellar, First Man, Arrival, Gravity were all released in the fall,.) Ad Astra is all about an astronaut who takes on a mission to uncover the truth about his missing father. The film is directed by James Gray (The Lost City of Z, The Immigrant). I just hope Brad Pitt gets to wear his iconic Hawaiian shirt. Audiences demand to see it again.

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September 27th Judy Starring: Renée Zellweger, Finn Wittrock, Jessie Buckley, Rufus Sewell There’s nothing like a good biographical drama. Throw in musical numbers and it’s a hit in my eyes. Renée Zellweger stars as the iconic Judy Garland in this biopic that explores her life in 1969 as she arrives in London to perform a series of sold out concerts. Word from the Telluride Film Festival is that Renée Zellweger gives a very strong performance as Judy. Could she have an awards season run on her hands for Best Actress? We’ll see very soon!

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OCTOBER

October 4th Joker Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Robert de Niro, Zazie Beets Joaquin Phoenix stars as the Joker in this standalone film that focuses on the origins of the DC villain. The film received an 8 minute standing ovation at the Venice Film Festival, which seems pretty excessive for any movie. I’m just not a movie applauder. It’s unnatural to me. I’m also not much of a Joker enthusiast so I can’t get too excited about this or the way it seemingly wants me to feel sympathy for the Joker. I don’t. He’s a terrorist. However, this is going to be a huge cinematic event. There are striking similarities to 70’s hit films The King of Comedy and Taxi Driver in the first trailers of the film. Director Todd Phillips clearly wanted to make a unique comic book film and this one will have people talking.

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Lucy in the Sky Starring: Natalie Portman, Dan Stevens, Jon Hamm Another space movie! Fall movie season demands it. After returning from space, astronaut Lucy Cola begins to feel withdrawn and disconnected from reality. The film is loosely based on Lisa Nowak, an astronaut who lost her grip on reality after returning to earth after space travel. One thing’s for sure, with a cast including Natalie Portman, Jon Hamm, and Dan Stevens, this one promises some impressive acting.

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October 11 Gemini Man Starring: Will Smith, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Clive Owen An assassin becomes the target of a mysterious government operative who can predict his every move. Soon he finds out that the mysterious operative is a clone of himself. Can Gemini Man help director Ang Lee (Life of Pi, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) find critical acclaim again after 2016’s underwhelming Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk.

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The King Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Robert Pattinson, Joel Edgerton Based on Shakespeare’s Henriad, The King follows Henry V as he takes the throne after his father’s death and navigates a kingdom filled with war, chaos, and political strife. While all of that is very interesting, I think we need to discuss the hair in this movie. First of all, there’s Timothée Chalamet’s bowl cut, which is quite a situation. So very round and tragic. Why Timothée? You know you have great hair, but the bowl cut is not your look! Then, there’s Robert Pattinson’s wig. It’s kind of amazing. The hair in this movie alone is going to keep me entertained for 2 hours. The King will be in limited release theaters on October 11th and begin streaming on Netflix November 1st.

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October 18th Zombieland: Double Tap Starring: Woody Harrelson, Jesse Eisenberg, Emma Stone, Abigail Breslin This sequel comes 10 years after the popular zombie comedy first made its way to theaters. A lot has changed for the cast since 2009. Emma Stone has won an Oscar for La La Land, Jesse Eisenberg received a nomination for The Social Network, and Woody Harrelson has appeared in several projects including the Oscar nominated Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri and the critically acclaimed series True Detective. That doesn’t stop this cast for returning for a sequel! This time around, the team is back in the American heartland to face off against evolved zombies.

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The Lighthouse Starring: Robert Pattinson, Willem Dafoe I was initially indifferent towards this movie, but after watching the trailer I have to see it just to solve the mystery of who spilled those beans! Willem Dafoe is going INSANE over it. “Why’d ya spill your beans?” Someone please answer him before he turns into the Green Goblin! This movie is about two lighthouse keepers who try to maintain their sanity while living in seclusion on a remote island in Maine. (It’s also about beans, I think). The cinematography for The Lighthouse has a unique old Hollywood feel that is very intriguing.

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Jojo Rabbit Starring: Taika Watiti, Scarlett Johannson, Roman Griffin, Sam Rockwell Taika Waititi (Thor: Ragnarok, Hunt for the Wilderpeople) directs and stars in Jojo Rabbit, an “anti-hate satire” about a young German boy whose imaginary best friend is an idiotic version of Hitler. One day, he discovers that his mother is hiding a Jewish girl in their home and Jojo’s world is turned upside down. There’s no doubt this will be controversial, but the key word here is satire. Taiki Waititi is Jewish himself and the film is obviously making fun of Nazis.

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NOVEMBER

November 1st The Irishman Starring: Robert de Niro, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci Martin Scorsese’s long awaited gangster epic is finally premiering this November. The 3 1/2 hour crime drama (Scorsese loves a good 3-hour runtime!) focuses on the life of Frank “The Irishman” Sheeran a mob hitman who played a role in the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa. Netflix is distributing the film, but it will be available to see in select theaters on November 1st for cinematic purists. It will begin streaming on Netflix November 27th. (Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Go ahead and watch a 3-hour mafia epic with your family for the holiday! It’s Martin’s gift to you.)

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Harriet Starring: Cynthia Erivo, Janelle Monet, Joe Alwyn The true story of Harriet Tubman and her harrowing escape from slavery that eventually led to the Underground Railroad. Cynthia Ervio is going to be amazing in this role! She was such a breakout star in Widows and Bad Times at the El Royale. Can’t wait to see her portrayal of Harriet Tubman.

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Terminator: Dark Fate Starring: Mackenzie Davis, Linda Hamilton, Arnold Schwarzenegger The Terminator is back. In yet another installment of the franchise that will last forever, Sarah Connor and a hybrid human must protect a young girl from a newly modified Terminator from the future.

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November 8th Doctor Sleep Starring: Ewan McGregor, Rebecca Ferguson, Jacob Tremblay 39 years after The Shining, it’s getting a sequel. Based on the novel by Steven King, Doctor Sleep focuses on an adult Danny Torrance as he meets a girl with similar “shining” powers and tries to protect her from a cult called The True Knot. There’s a lot of talent involved in this project, but The Shining is untouchable in terms of classic movies. There’s no need to make a sequel. Not to mention, this plot summary sounds kind of weak. Consider me very skeptical that this will be good.

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Last Christmas Starring: Emilia Clarke, Henry Goulding, Emma Thompson A Christmas rom-com! Let’s jump for joy because a Christmas rom com is making its way to theaters! Last Christmas is all about Kate, a depressed woman working as Santa’s elf in a department store. She keeps bumping into the same man, Tom, who may help her find happiness in the holiday season. Henry Goulding/Emilia Clarke romance+Christmas? Sounds like a recipe for the perfect holiday movie!

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Honey Boy Starring: Shia Labeouf, Lucas Hedges, Noah Jupe It’s no secret that Shia LaBeouf has had a chaotic lifestyle in his post-Disney days. It looks like audiences are about to find out what has gone on behind-the-scenes in Honey Boy. The film is written by LaBeouf and follows his own experiences with fame and the strained relationship with his dysfunctional father. Noah Jupe and Lucas Hedges will be playing Shia LaBeouf as a child and teen actor, while Shia LaBeouf will play his own father for a meta twist. As someone who grew up watching Even Stevens and saw Shia LaBeouf’s career progress, this is one of my most anticipated films of the fall.

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November 15th Ford v. Ferrari Starring: Christian Bale, Matt Damon, Catriona Balfe American car designer Carroll Shelby and driver Ken Miles attempt to build a revolutionary race car for Ford to battle Ferrari at the 24 hours of Le Mans in 1966. The premise of this movie reminds me a little bit of Ron Howard’s Rush which is a very underrated movie that should be watched if you haven’t seen it.

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The Report Starring: Adam Driver, Jon Hamm, Tim Blake Nelson The Report is a political drama about an FBI agent’s investigation into the CIA’s torture practice on suspected terrorists after 9/11. Adam Driver stars in the film and he’s about to have a major fall movie season. The Report and Marriage Story (more on that one a little later) could easily get him awards buzz. In fact, I predict he’ll be nominated for an Oscar for one of those roles. Plus, he’ll be in Star Wars in December. You’ll be seeing a lot of him in the next few months.

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Charlie’s Angels Starring: Kristen Stewart, Naomi Scott, Ella Balinska, Elizabeth Banks Did we need another Charlie’s Angels reboot after the 2000’s movie trilogy and the ABC TV show? No. Yet there’s nothing Hollywood loves to more than to reboot a franchise we’ve just seen! This time around the angels are played by Kristen Stewart, Naomi Scott, and Ella Balinski. Elizabeth Banks is directing and co-starring in the project.

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November 22nd Frozen 2 Starring: Kristen Bell, Idina Menzel, Josh Gad Anna, Elsa, Kristoff, and Olaf go on an adventure to an enchanted autumn forest to find the origin of Elsa’s powers and save their land. Just when everyone finally got Let it Go out of their heads, Disney is gonna hit us with another Frozen movie. I have to admit, I’m intrigued by the concept of the autumn forest. We need more movies that take place in the fall! It should be it’s own sub-genre.

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A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood Starring: Tom Hanks, Matthew Rhys, Susan Kelechi Watson He’s already played Walt Disney, Captain Phillips, and Sully so it’s fitting that Tom Hanks would play Mr. Rogers on the list of “America’s favorite people” up next. The movie is all about the friendship between Fred Rogers and journalist Tom Junod. I cannot wait to see this. If you haven’t watched the documentary about Fred Rogers called Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, do it before this is released! It’s going to add so much depth to the cinematic experience.

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November 27th Knives Out Starring: Daniel Craig, Chris Evans, Jamie Lee Curtis, Toni Collette When a famous crime novelist is found dead on his estate, a detective is enlisted to investigate the family. Knives Out is directed by Rian Johnson (Looper, The Last Jedi) and packed with stars. It looks a bit like Bad Times at the El Royale meets the style of a Wes Anderson movie. I’m very interested in the central mystery at play here, but I can’t lie, Chris Evans is the reason I’ll go to the theater for this.

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December 6th Marriage Story Starring: Scarlett Johansson, Adam Driver, Laura Dern This one is gonna be majorly sad, so let’s all take some time to prepare ourselves. A stage director and his actress wife struggle as their marriage falls apart and they proceed with a difficult coast-to-coast divorce. Noah Baumbach (The Squid and the Whale, Frances Ha) directed the film which has already been receiving high praise from early festival screenings. This will definitely draw comparisons to Kramer vs. Kramer and Baumback’s The Squid and the Whale based on the trailer’s tone. The juxtaposition of the couple’s happy memories vs. the court scene at the end of the trailer is just heartbreaking. Marriage Story will be available to stream on Netflix December 6th.

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December 13th A Hidden Life Starring: August Diehl, Valerie Pachner, Matthias Schoenaerts Few movies have affected me the way Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life have. It’s certainly not a movie for everyone, but it works for me. The unconventional narrative, epic cinematography, and orchestral score are unforgettable. Critics from festival screenings have said that A Hidden Life is his best work since The Tree of Life meaning I’ll need to see it ASAP. The film is based on a true story about an Austrian farmer named Franz Jaggerstatter who refused to fight for the Nazis in World War II. The trailer looks beautiful and poetic.

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December 20th Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Starring: Daisy Ridley, Adam Driver, Oscar Isaac, John Boyega The latest Star Wars trilogy will complete with The Rise of Skywalker. Taking place after The Last Jedi, the members left in the Resistance will face the First Order once again. The conflict between the Jedi and the Sith reaches a breaking point bringing the Skywalker saga to an end. I have so many questions about this movie! Was Kylo Ren actually lying to Rey about her parents in The Last Jedi? Could they really be important people? Will she turn to the dark side like this preview suggests? (I hope not). Why is Palpatine (the villain who died in Return of the Jedi) talking in all of the trailers? Thankfully, J.J. Abrams is returning as director for The Rise of Skywalker to answer all of my questions and hopefully deliver a great Star Wars film.

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Jumanji: The Next Level Starring: Dwayne Johnson, Kevin Hart, Jack Black, Karen Gillan Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle was one of the biggest surprise box office hits in recent years, appealing to people of all age groups. It’s no surprise that The Next Level is being released so quickly after the massive success of Welcome to the Jungle. This time around, the group goes back into the game, but a few of their grandfather’s are sucked in as well. That means Kevin Hart will be playing Danny Glover and Dwayne Johnson will be portraying Danny DeVito.

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Cats Starring: Francesca Hayward, Jason Derulo, Judi Dench, Jennifer Hudson, Taylor Swift Forget Star Wars, forget A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, forget A Hidden Life. Disregard everything on this list. Cats is going to be the cinematic moment of 2019! That CGI? Legendary! The actors could have worn cat suits or make up like the stage play, but director Tom Hooper decided that this is the 21st century…time to try out a new technique called digital fur technology! So now this movie exists. It’s difficult to describe what this digital fur technology looks like, but it’s not cats. I will say the trailer was released with plenty of time before the movie gets to theaters so there’s hope that the finished product will look way better than the original trailer. If I’m being totally honest, I love anything musical, so I’m totally going to see this.

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December 25th Little Women Starring: Saoirse Ronan, Timothée Chalamet, Meryl Streep, Laura Dern Greta Gerwig’s highly ancitipated second film is a remake of the beloved Louisa May Alcott novel, Little Women. You all know the story, but I’ll do a quick plot recap anyway. Little Women is told through the eyes of Jo March as she recounts her life growing up with her 3 sisters: Meg, Amy, and Beth. Each have their own distinct personalities, but have a very strong bond with each other. The film reunites Saoirse Ronan and Timothée Chalamet as Jo March and Laurie for a mini-Lady Bird reunion. It also contains a little Big Little Lies reunion with Meryl Streep and Laura Dern. What a great Christmas day release!

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That concludes this Fall Movie Preview! As you can tell, there are tons of movies releasing this season in all genres. What are you most excited to see this fall?

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leonard-cohen-the-second · 8 years ago

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Blood Repaid: Chapter 13 of Serenity Falls

Summary: Time to pay a visit to Odin the Allfather. Or as Tamsin likes to call him: dad.

Pairing: Tamsin x Lauren

Info: AO3 --- FF

The air around Lauren was stale yet charged with anticipation. It was hard to breathe in this space even though the ceiling was yards above them and the room was massive. Tamsin was strained, Lauren could see it in her muscles as they tightened, and the doctor slowly slipped her hand into her lover's from behind. The rigidness of the valkyrie softened slightly, her green orbs still pinned on her father's crystal, and she nodded her appreciation to the human-fae.

Lauren continued to take in her surroundings, but most notably Odin's. He had a long proper beard that stretched to his chest and in his hand he carried a dangerous looking spear. His left eye did not move with his right, and it had many veins protruding from all around it. It was as if someone had torn the muscle from its socket before the great god plucked it from the ground, uncaring of the ruined home for it, and returned the eye to its original point of being. Lauren was not as researched as she should have been with the god, and thus she could not tell why or what had caused such an injury to the man though she doubted she truly wanted to know.

He wore a wizened cloak, similar to old rags, but Lauren guessed it was to downplay his power. Odin was in his home after all, there was no way someone who looked so tired could possibly be the ruler of the vast kingdom of Asgard. The huffing of breath drew the doctor's attention to either side of the giant throne where she saw two enormous wolves, their eyes bright purple and yellow respectfully, glaring at the newcomers. Likewise Lauren heard rustling above her and saw two ravens coming from some hidden doorway in the ceiling to perch on either side of the chair Odin sat upon. Their claws made a soft tinging sound in the room, proving its wonderful acoustics, and the woman wondered if there were large banquets or other charades the throne room had seen over the millennia.

Everyone's coming to see the new arrivals, she thought to herself, holding back her scowl. Lauren continued to look around the room, the silver tones, stone, and wood were so at odds from Freyja's home of gold and metal and it made the woman think of what other changes these two locations had. Freyja received half of the warriors that die on the battlefield into her home while Odin had the other, presumably meaning there should be a plethora of valkyries- or at least warriors in general- crowding around the halls to see the newcomers. But as the doctor looked about the room, there was no one in sight- a strange occurrence seeing as there was talk of Ætta being here already.

A gasp left her lips as she looked behind her finally towards the area closer to the door. Lauren's hand slipped away from Tamsin's as she bolted elsewhere towards one of the many columns in the room and dropped to her knees. Tamsin didn't even look back, still staring at her nonspeaking father, as Lauren's fingers brushed delicately over a throat. She waited a moment before cursing under her breath, looking at the wound that made the woman's body slick with blood. Her eyes darted back towards the woman's face, her hands hovering in the air just above the figure, before closing her eyes and gulping.

"Not going to say anything, dad?" Tamsin said, finally cutting the charged air with her sarcastic quip. She must have known her physical form laid just a few feet away but she never turned to acknowledge the corpse.

Odin hummed out an answer, the walls seeming to reverberate with its resonance, before his long fingers tapped about his spear. "You left to be with your mother, Thomisina. A hard strike against me, if I may confess."

Tamsin's shoulders rolled in a shrug, her head cocking to the side in an uncaring manner. "Your morals are pretty, let's just say, fucked up." She raised her hand and pointed a thumb behind her. "Letting a girl whom you personally clipped into your throne room and then letting her kill my body kinda speaks for itself."

"You speak as if you wished for the Shadow Soul to continue to live in your body. Your pet can stitch and heal the flesh at your command."

"She's not a pet," Tamsin interjected. Her voice was low, forceful, and it made Lauren look up from the corpse in front of her. Even now, against her very own father, the valkyrie was trying to protect her honor. She continued, "And you know as well as I that thing was not just a Shadow. It was my valkyrie disconnecting from me and decided to go on a rampage with my body. You know, the body you refused to help me get control of."

"And your mother did?" Odin questioned.

"She helped more than you!"

"So, in other words, not at all. If this lesser fae had not acted upon her own will, you would have never come this close to your body."

Tamsin paused at that, her fist clenching. Turning her head slightly, she spoke to her lover, "Lauren, your fae has the ability of resurgence. Just concentrate and bring my body back to life, would you?"

"That would not be wise."

The valkyrie sighed, looking back at her father. "And why is that?"

Odin shifted in his throne. The ravens seemed to jitter slightly, their claws clacking against the chair, before they settled back in. "Your valkyrie is still rife in that body. To mend the flesh, to reach into the space between worlds and breathe life back into that shell, would also bring the First back as well."

"Then I'll just have to kick her ass now won't I." It wasn't a question and Tamsin glared daggers at her father.

"Do you really want that, daughter?" Odin's voice became melodious, more so than it was, and it was so smooth it practically glided over the women's eardrums. "Do you truly wish to return to a mortal shell to live out your days to die? You are on your last life time in that walking corpse but here... here you are free."

"I'm in a state or constant death here!" Tamsin retorted hotly. It was as if every thought she had been thinking for the past few days had exploded out of her as her arms began to move to emphasize her words. "You've beat it into me a valkyries entire life is to live, serve, and die only to be pulled from the ashes and rise again. And now you beg for me to stay here! No, dad, my life is on Earth."

Odin's massive form rose from his chair slowly as Tamsin spoke. Through his ragged appearance you could see real power underneath, swirling and aching to be released, but the man held it tight to his hidden bosom. "My daughter, you are beautiful, strong, agile. Your brothers and I have trained you well as such, but down there... down there you are weak, slow, ugly. I know I have done wrong in demanding my own beloved to dawn such a shell, but sweet child I am trying to rectify it now. You cannot die here. You cannot grow old and haggard. You may sweep your precious feet along the Seeing Lake and look upon your humans and lesser fae. Your place is here by my side, not down there to a world doomed to strife and destruction."

Green orbs looked towards the spear in her father's hand with care before she glared into crystal eyes. He was right, of course he was right. It would have been a lie to say she had not thought of the same thing countless times while with her mother, but she also knew it was impossible to keep Lauren and all of her friends up there with her. She would doom them to death while she watched them, and that just didn't sit well with her. The valkyrie would rather destine herself to their same fate if only to show them all wrong. She wasn't just an asshole who only cared about herself. No, she was a valkyrie and she was strong. She loved just as she wanted to be loved. And Tamsin resigned herself to fight with her allies not to prove just how great at dying she really was, but to show them how to truly live...

The blonde crossed her arms, sighing deeply, as she coalesced her thoughts. Where once a grimace was on her face now was a soft smile as she looked back up towards her father. Her breathing seemed slow and deliberate and for the first time since being next to her father, Tamsin seemed calm. "Father," she began, unfolding her arms, "please do this one thing for me. When Lauren brings back my valkyrie, my body, subdue her for me so that I can get back inside. Don't let her run amok anymore in your kingdom. Don't let your daughter risk her life again to reign her in. Use Gungnir to overcome the First and give me a chance to reclaim that power. With it, it doesn't matter if I'm on my last life or not. Her power, the power that has always been inside of me, will be able to keep me alive for centuries to come. If you truly wish to see me happy, to see me healthy, then do this for me, father... please."

Silence fell upon the room again though unlike when they first arrived, it seemed palpable. Lauren felt as if she could reach out and simply touch the soft energy resonating from either gods but as Odin took a step off of his throne, she was snapped out of her daydream.

The rags he bore shimmered with silver light as he walked slowly towards his daughter. It was so blinding Lauren thought if she had not been inscribed with fae DNA she could not bare to look directly at it. There were moments of piercing sound as the man's spear hit the ground, almost as if it was also his walking stick, before the light faded and in the place of his robes was a marvelous set of armor. It was so otherworldly Lauren could not describe it, though it reminded her of Dyson's old armor and her own when they were in the make-shift Dawning plane to save Tamsin. That seemed like ages ago, the human-fae thought lightly as she watched the events unfold.

Odin was right in front of Tamsin in no more than a few moments. His spear was at his side, his long cloak running away from him as the train was long and billowing, and he looked down to his daughter. Clearing his throat he finally spoke, "Then, my daughter, tell this human-fae to get her hands to work."

There was a twinge at the side of Tamsin's mouth but no more than that as she looked back to Lauren slowly and nodded her head. "Thank you, father."

"You should not thank me, but your prodigy."

As quickly as it took Tamsin to soften, her walls were back up again. She glared at her father, then about the room, as she said, "Where is she?"

Odin witnessed Lauren's ability first hand as the human-fae lowered her hands inside of the shell and a bright light exuded from them. "After betraying the First, she realized she could not defeat me even with the power she held." Lauren's hands moved inside of the fae's body, almost as if she was a mortician and she was required to remove the organs from the body. "Thus she resigned herself to travel back to Earth with the key of unlocking the Abominations. By the time you are done here, you will be greeted with the downfall of mankind."

Lauren's delicate hands lifted themselves from the shell's body, they strangely not being coated in any blood, as she looked down to the closed wound of the valkyrie. As instantly as the stab wound was healed, however, purple eyes flared to being from the valkyrie's body and her throat was squeezed tightly. The dirty blonde tried to speak, hit the woman's hand away from her, but before she could do either a golden spear came raining down into her vision. The prongs of the spear came to rest on either side of the valkyrie's head, trapping her on the ground, and Odin swiftly did his business.

A flash of light.

Disorientation.

The doctor tried to blink away the sun spots from her eyes as her hand was clasped gently. Centering her attention, she finally saw a sight for very sore eyes. A sigh of relief escaped her as she lunged at the green eyed valkyrie and was pulled into a large hug.

Looking up to the man, Lauren breathed out a, "Thank you..." before closing her eyes again and hugging Tamsin- who was now rightfully in her own body.

Odin nodded kindly, looking at either women. "You make her strong, human-fae. Or perhaps she is strong for you; time will only tell. Thomisina, you have your body back and still retain the power over your First valkyrie. I will not be there for you always, girl. You must learn to control it by yourself."

"In time," Tamsin said through gritted teeth. She was trying hard not to cry, it seemed.

"I'll help her," Lauren offered. She was definitely crying a little.

"There will be a time where you will resent that answer, doctor," Odin said, his voice sullen. Raising his hand so that Lauren could not retort, he continued, "If you wish to stand beside your loved ones as the end of the world is unleashed, you should go now."

Tamsin sniffled, blinking her eyes rapidly so as to try to get her emotions together. "Death is nothing to us, since when we are, death has not come, and when death is come, we are not..."

"Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent," Lauren began, nodding to Tamsin and smiling slightly. "Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?" She stopped and looked to the great god beside her. "Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?" Turning back to her lover she allowed a gentle smile to pass over her lips. "I didn't know you knew Epicurus."

"He was a pretty chill guy." Tamsin bellowed a laugh as Lauren's eyes grew wide. "Come on," she said, patting the doctor on the back and looking back to her father. "We've got the end of the world to catch.

+++

Kenzi moved just a little closer to Hale as they both stood with their backs against the wooden bar. Her hand was clasped in his, their eyes watching as Bo went over their defensive tactic yet again. Trick sighed as Dyson stepped from his lair with a weapon in hand. The man pointed toward the table already filled with numerous sharp devices and the wolf-shifter shuffled to put down the heavy contraption.

Crystal orbs again flowed over Bo as she sighed deeply, asking once more about the defenses against the Abominations that were definitely coming.

"The door to the Dal," Trick explained for the third time, "is barred by sigils and runes of the highest caliber. Any who mean harm to this place cannot just walk in, Bo."

The succubus sighed heavily, thrumming her fingers on the pool table as she looked over the weapons. Kenzi had a feeling she wasn't actually looking at the axes, swords, and clubs on the greenery as she watched the woman bite her lip.

In truth Bo was thinking about Lauren and, of course, Tamsin and deep down she wished there wasn't a living army about to knock on her door and instead pick up a game of billiards with the valkyrie. That life seemed so far behind them all. She longed for it again, realizing how laughingly it was only a few days ago that it was the case, and she wondered how many days they would have to live this life now. How much stock could the succubus put into one day of killing if it felt like an eternity? Or worse, years passing and it feeling like so much longer. She couldn't just allow this to happen, she wished there was something she could do to stop it. Not for her own sake but for those standing all around her now. They didn't deserve this, hell, she didn't deserve this.

Bo had opened her mouth, trying to speak of the plan again, before the crack of the air caught all of their attentions. It seemed as if lightning had entered the room, coupled with a tornado, because whatever was forming on top of one of the pool tables was not of this world. In fact, Bo surmised, it could have been one of the Abominations coming to attack way sooner than they all had predicted. It was this reason why the succubus picked up a spear and aimed it toward the whirling vortex in the middle of the room, and it was the reason why before she knew what was going to come out of it she threw the weapon with all her might.

There was a surprised holler from the portal, something that made Bo's heart sink, before two blondes came into view with all the suave and pose like Arnold butt naked. They both rose from the table as if they knew they were in some Grade A action flick and looked at everyone there.

Lauren gave a happy, yet dorky, wave while Tamsin air gunned them all.

"So," the valkyrie said, "you miss us?"

#Copdoc #Lost Girl #Tamsin #Lauren Lewis #fanfiction #Bo Dennis #Kenzi Malikov #Hale #Dyson Thornwood #here it is #back by popular demand of still faithful wonderful people #thanks guys

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