#And I could be audited by the government for breathing wrong

[extravagantliar]

we advert taxes here not evade, phrasing matters

[cksmart-world]

SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

September 10, 2024

“THE SECRET LIVES OF MORMON WIVIES” — OMG!

Hey Wilson, hold on to your socks 'cause this could blow them off — “soft swinging” among Mormon couples! What? Soft swinging? Holy word of wisdom! Is that what it sounds like? The Hulu miniseries, “The Secret Lives of Mormon Women” looks inside the activities of a TikTok group of LDS 20-something married women — #MomTok. Send the kids to bed 'cause this is not your bishop's road show. Taylor Frankie Paul, one of #MomTok's influencers, came right out and said that she and her husband decided to split after some soft swinging with other couples in their friend group. No Wilson, we heathens don't know exactly what is involved in this soft swinging stuff but it sounds a bit dicey, if potentially frustrating. All told, the women of #MomTok have over 11 million followers and have secured brand contracts and other money-making deals that made some of them the family breadwinner. Not bad work, if you can get it. Of course there's a downside — other Mormon moms had to go on the defensive, insisting they weren't into soft swinging. Then a year ago, Taylor Frankie Paul was arrested and charged with assault and domestic violence after an altercation with her new boyfriend. Darn the luck. Are they taking auditions at “Real Wives of Salt Lake?”

SHOCKER — TRUMP GETS AWAY WITH IT, YET AGAIN

Well Wilson, hope you weren't holding your breath waiting for Donald “I'm-A-Victim” Trump to be sentenced in the New York “Hush Money” trial surrounding a payoff to porn star Stormy Daniels where a jury found him guilty of 34 felonies. Judge Juan Merchan was slated to sentence the former president on Sept. 18 but pushed the matter back to Nov. 26, three weeks after the presidential election. The original sentencing date was July 11 — but the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that as president Trump had immunity in cases of official presidential duties — which, of course, payoffs to porn stars is one. You see Wilson, Trump has never done a thing wrong in his entire life. He didn't have sex with Stormy soon after the birth of his youngest son. He never led an attempted coup on Jan. 6, 2001. He didn't take truckloads of top classified documents to Mar-A-Lago and he never tried to interfere with the election in Georgia. No, that stuff was all made up by Joe Biden and his deep-state storm troopers. See Wilson, it's like this: Biden weaponized the Justice Department against Trump because he would “make America great again.” But Trump's army of attorneys have outsmarted those bastards and so he will skate away, skate away, skate away...

UTAH BROKE ITS PARKS — NOW WANTS FEDS TO FIX 'EM

Where did all these damn tourist come from? All Utah did was spend millions and millions in a huge ad campaign to bring visitors from all over the country and the world to our “Mighty Five” national parks. But now they are overrun and Gov. Spencer Cox and the state tourist braintrust can't understand why the parks are packed like sardines. Where is the federal government, they want to know. And why isn't there more money for infrastructure. And why haven't the feds done more to spread out the tourists so there isn't overcrowding. “It is obvious to all of us,” Cox said, “that the federal government has increasingly failed to keep our lands accessible and properly managed.” Utah's national parks (who calls them Mighty Five?), Zion, Bryce Canyon, Capitol Reef, Arches and Canyonlands saw some 11 million visitors in 2023. Utah tourist gurus aren't suggesting that fewer people visit our parks — oh no, that would decrease private sector revenue. Utah law requires cities, like Moab, to spend hotel taxes on tourist promotion, even though local officials would rather not due to overcrowding. "In hindsight, I think tourism now is having more of a negative environmental impact on our surrounding areas," said Mary McGann, chair Grand County Commission. Clearly she doesn't understand progress.

Post script — That's gonna do it for another week of High Anxiety here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of the end of the world, so you won't have to. By the time you read this, the world may have come to an end. No wait — that's November 5. Ever get that helpless feeling, Wilson, that the future of mankind hangs in the balance and you are completely helpless. Yes, we know, you had a draft number for the Vietnam War and basically all you could do was go skiing, get high and listen to Bob Dylan and the Stones while pretending tomorrow wouldn't come. Well it did come and here we are. That ought to give you hope. Listen to this: sometime about 1,500 years ago Rome fell. If you go to Rome today, Wilson, you know what you'll find? Romans! OK, there were the Neanderthals, but that's a whole different situation — they didn't vote or wear togas. But still , Wilson, there are plenty of reasons to look on the bright side: we don't have to hate Dick Cheney anymore; a new film, “The Apprentice” is out, giving insights into the real Donald Trump; Justice Samuel Alito actually reported getting a gift; and there's a new Covid vaccine so we don't have to drink bleach. And if that's not enough, should the world end on November 5, the Utah Jazz won't have another losing season.

Shucks Wilson, we can't just throw in the towel because 46 percent of Americans live in some kind of an information vacuum. Yes, of course, it does make Portugal look better all the time. But let's not dither when we could be bucking up. So tell the guys in the band to put away the Five Wives Vodka and give us a theme song for the day:

From the dark end of the street To the bright side of the road We'll be lovers once again on the Bright side of the road Little darlin', come with me Won't you help me share my load From the dark end of the street To the bright side of the road Into this life we're born Baby sometimes we don't know why And time seems to go by so fast In the twinkling of an eye Let's enjoy it while we can Won't you help me sing my song From the dark end of the street To the bright side of the road From the dark end of the street To the bright side of the road We'll be lovers once again On the bright side of the road We'll be lovers once again on the bright side of the road

(Bright Side of the Road — Van Morrison)

[thistleandthorn-rpg]

Congrats April with your audition for Ryan Li! Please check out this page here for a reminder on what to do next, and send us his blog within 48 hours. Welcome back!!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias: April Preferred pronoun: she/her  Age: old Timezone/Country: CST RP Experience: lots Activity Level: 5-7

IC INFORMATION:

Name: Ryan Li Designation: Switch Age: 25 Birthdate: June 24, 1998 Faceclaim: Derek Luh Orientation: Bisexual Kinks: Sensation Play, Pain Play, Bondage, Breath Play, Impact Play, Body Worship Anti-Kinks: Scat, Degradation, Age Play, Pet Play

Key Points: 

Resourceful

Friendly but guarded

Distrustful of authority but won’t openly defy it

Self-conscience about academic ability/performance

BIO:

While Ryan knew that happy and successful claims obviously existed, growing up with a front row seat to his parents’ toxic and abusive claim caused him to view the whole system as a way to force people to stay trapped in horrible situations. Even though neither of his parents physically abused him, they were always more focused on making each other miserable to pay any attention to him. The neglect caused him to miss a lot of school as a child, which in turn caused his dyslexia to go undiagnosed for much longer than normal. By the time he finally understood what was ‘wrong’ with him, he was already way behind other kids his age and had convinced himself that his problem was that he was just too stupid to learn anything. When he turned 16, Ryan decided to drop out of high school and preferred to couch surf, with the occasional bout of living on the streets of Cleveland, over spending another second in his childhood home. 

  Even though the government would like people to think they are in control of everything, it was impossible for them to keep track of everyone. Ryan found out quickly that if you managed to stay on the outskirts of society, you could basically become invisible to most of the world. However, even if you wanted to stay hidden, you still needed food and water, which meant that you also needed money. Since Ryan wasn’t able to get a normal job, he had to resort to illegal means of acquiring it. While he wasn’t necessarily proud of it, he did what he had to do to survive and at least tried to make sure not to physically harm anyone. For several years, this method worked for him until he was finally arrested for theft. Fortunately, he was caught with only a few hundred dollars of stolen property on him and since it was his first time being caught, they only charged him with a misdemeanor. Unfortunately, getting caught meant that he was now back under the watchful eyes of the authority. To avoid any jail time, Ryan made a deal to finally receive his designation and attend an institution. While there were several schools in Cleveland that he could have gone to, it was decided for him to attend the one at Lima since his mother had some family in the area, and it distanced him from his friends that were deemed to be a bad influence. While he wasn’t excited in any way to be forced to finally find a claim, he was hopeful that he could at the very least find one that wasn’t as toxic as his parents. 

  BIO QUESTIONS:

  What are your feelings about the mark you have received? 

Even though I don’t really enjoy the thought of being forced into any kind of role, I think being a Switch is the best outcome I could have received. I’m honestly not sure which side I lean towards more, so at least it feels like I have a bit more control over my life then if I received the Dominant or submissive role. 

  How do your feelings on the system compare to your parents’ feelings on it?

I mean… I’m never going to be thrilled about a system that forces people into roles and relationships. However, there’s nothing much that I can do since I’m not going to change the world or anything. Sadly, it’s pretty much a ‘can’t beat them, then I sadly have to join them’ situation. My parents are miserable together and have always been that way as long as I can remember, so I’m going to assume that they aren’t big fans of the system either. 

  Where do you see yourself after you graduate? 

Well, it’s pretty much either I’m in a claim or I’m a slave. Out of those two options, obviously I’d choose the claim and can only hope that I won’t end up stuck in a miserable relationship for the rest of my life. As for a career, beats the fuck out of me. I don’t even have a high school diploma, so I’m obviously not going to be anything that requires any kind of education.  

  How do you feel about authority?

I think it’s pretty clear with my prior answers how I feel about it, but just in case you couldn’t tell, I’m not a fan. I think people should be able to control their own lives, but that’s not the world that we live in. Since that’s the case, I just plan to keep my head down and hopefully not cause any waves. 

[blouisparadise]

Here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where one or both of the boys is a wolf. This includes werewolf fics and A/B/O fics where they transform into wolves. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to reblog this post to help spread the word.

Happy reading!

1) New York's Beauty | Mature | 5274 words

Prompt 104: AU where Harry is an alpha wolf and Louis is a hybrid kitten. They were roommates. While they were arguing about something stupid, Harry wanted to bend Louis over the kitchen table and knot him right there. He slowly accepted his feelings and extreme desire for Louis, so he started to tease the hybrid until he would beg Harry to fuck him. They fall in love.

2) Just Like The Wolf Before He Bites | Explicit | 11096 words

He’s loud, Louis is, and that’s far from unusual for him, but the volume of it still has Harry pulling back the curtain. There’s a half-formed thought in the back of his brain about telling Louis off, because it’s fucking half three in the morning, but then.

But then Harry’s eyes get stuck on the soft glint of Louis’ stubble in the light, and he’s making his way across the room before he even realizes it.

Louis, for his part, just tips his chin up to give Harry space and keeps talking, waving the joint in his hand around for emphasis. He doesn’t even bother to greet Harry, going on with his story to his semi-rapt audience, just settles a hand in between Harry’s shoulder blades and pushes him down firmly.

Harry just. Relaxes. His eyes slip closed, pushing his entire face into that spot underneath Louis’ chin, where his hair is still growing, neat and prickly. The scent of Louis’ cologne drifts into Harry’s nose, light and fresh, and it’s calming. Comforting. His breathing syncs up with Louis’ quickly, and Harry feels so much better than he had five minutes ago he almost wants to cry.

3) I Would Follow You (To the Moon and Back) | Explicit | 20355 words

Everyone has baggage, some people sleepwalk, some have obsessive exes, and others turn into anthropomorphic wolf-like monsters that destroy furniture and run rampant in the forest. Perfectly normal.

4) Break Open The Sky | Explicit | 20372 words

Note: Mentions of BH.

Werewolf AU. Harry might be a werewolf, but he still wants to experience Uni like everyone else. Turns out he learns a lot.

5) Out Of The Wild | Explicit | 21502 words

Louis has spent most of his life as a wolf in the wild, Harry has spent most of his life as a human in the city. Their worlds collide during the audition process for the hottest new singing competition. What happens next should have expected.

6) Falling Into Your Gravity | Explicit | 28933 words

The Doncaster tribe has suffered from the increasing attacks of the rogue werewolves for months now and finally their pleas have been answered. The Government has sent them enforcements in the form of a family of high standing, the Styles, whose babelicious son turns a certain omega’s world upside down. Poor Louis is just trying to get people believe he’s a beta as his family’s life depends on it.

7) Compete Against The Stars | Mature | 30890 words

An ABO AU where Louis finds out he's claimed to another Alpha. Angst ensues.

8) Canyon Moon | Explicit | 40895 words

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

9) I'm On the Hunt Now (I'm After You) | Mature | 56418 words

Omegas haven’t been able to shift into their wolves for two hundred years. That is, until Louis Tomlinson changes everything.

10) Bite Me | Explicit | 93222 words | Sequel

Being groomed for alpha was hard enough. Now, mix in moving to a completely different location and losing three of his pack's omegas to outsiders, and you've got a disaster. Or, so it was in Harry's eyes. He was told not to worry; they weren't his omegas and he wasn't the alpha yet. But he did worry. Their pack was under attack and he had no idea why, and when he found a suitable mate, the problems that his stepdad faced would be his.

11) Among The Humans | Explicit | 129435 words

A gothic, modern day vampire romance between a young human named Louis Tomlinson, and Harry Styles, ancient vampire and gentleman.

Creatures of the night come with more trouble than they wish to make it seem.

12) You Smell Like | Mature | 185369 words

The one where Louis is the Alpha’s mate and everyone is aware of it except for Louis and Harry. Go figure!

13) Cold Little Heart | Teen & Up | 194780 words

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child. A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham. Louis really could use the help.

14) Only You Can Be My Alpha | Explicit | 196073 words

The one where Louis is banished from his tribe, and lands himself in Harry's instead. The alluring Pack Alpha makes Louis question his nature and he doesn't know how he feels about that. But you can't fight destiny.

15) Queen of Arizella | Mature | 277919 words

Stealing from Royalty is punishable by death.

Louis starts over, doing his best to keep his hands at his sides but he is hungry and he tries stealing from the wrong Royal.

Harry is King of Arizella, he needs a Queen and who better than an omega on the run from death? Louis will learn to become the perfect Queen -the perfect fake Queen, but only for a few months.

A fake lover, a fake Queen, but a real bond.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 9: Closer

...in which Ezi has her first kiss.

Word count: 5.4k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Please tell me what you think about the chapter! Reblog if you could :)

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“Do you know why there’s a true love’s kiss and not a true love’s hug?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? I was asking you.”

Harry sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He had to keep his eyes on the road, but Ezi would keep distracting him with her shifting in her seat every two seconds and rambling on about silly topics he had no interest in. However, he’d promised to not be a dick whenever she talked to him, so he wouldn’t.

“Can’t you see that I’m driving?”

“So?” Ezi snorted. “Just answer the question.”

Harry sighed again. “I guess that’s because a kiss is more special than a hug...romantically.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why not not? You’re just exchanging saliva.”

“It’s special if you’re exchanging saliva with someone you care about.”

Ezi still wasn’t satisfied with that explanation. “Okay, but what if the person won’t let you kiss them? How will you know if it’s true love?”

“If they don’t want to kiss you, it means they’re not interested, and therefore, it’s not true love,” Harry said. He couldn’t believe he was actually giving this some thought, but oh well, it was a long drive to the manor anyway. “For me at least,” he added, “true love must come from both sides.” Then he stole a glance at her and did a double-take. “Are you taking notes on your phone?”

Ezi flinched and put her phone into her bag right when she made eye contact with him. “No.”

“Liar. You were.”

“I’m learning to be human.”

“Just say you wanna kiss me.” Harry smirked. “We’re the only people here. This is a safe space.”

“It’s never a safe space when you’re in it,” Ezi said.

Harry’s eyebrows went high. “Excuse me? Yesterday you almost attacked a child for cutting the line in the supermarket.”

Ezi gave a firm nod without showing any remorse. “And the child would have deserved it. You, on the other hand, are deadly with your words.”

“How?!” cried Harry. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since we started fake dating.”

Ezi rolled her eyes and checked her watch. “Yeah, your new record of being nice to me is two hours. Congrats.”

Harry exhaled, his shoulders slumped. “Okay, I think we should go over what to do when we see my mum, because if we act like this in front of her--”

“Why are we seeing your mother again?”

“Didn’t Jeff tell you?”

Ezi shook her head. She seemed quite confused, so Harry guessed Jeff had forgotten. To be honest, Harry found it funny and a little concerning that she had no idea why she was in the car after having been in the car for two hours. Someone could just kidnap her one day, and she wouldn’t even realise until they told her it was a kidnap. Or, maybe she just trusted him not to drive her to a government lab and donate her organs to science.

“Well, Jeff wants some new PR content of you hanging out with my family,” he told her.

“Why?” she asked, face scrunched up.

He lifted his shoulders. “To humanise you.”

“Good luck with that,” Ezi scoffed, rested her elbow on the window on her side and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “It takes a lot to humanise me.”

“Well, not literally. Just in the public eye, because a lot of people suspect that this is a PR relationship. We’ve only been seen together as friends or co-workers.”

“That’s not true. We’re not even friends.”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed. “So if we can convince my mother that we’re dating, we can convince the whole world. Trust me.”

Harry didn’t even exaggerate it; his mother could detect a lie from miles away. He could count the number of times he’d got away with a lie to her on one hand. However, he had never lied to her about being in a relationship. So hopefully, she’d be too happy with the thought of him not being a player like his dad to tell the whole thing was fake.

And so for the rest of the drive, he and Ezi tried acting out scenarios for when they met his mother again. They broke out laughing most of the time because Harry would say something too cheesy or Ezi would use some lines she’d learned from those Netflix originals that Harry had rated one star. Now that they were standing on the steps of the manor, they had to keep it together. Because no one would shout ‘cut!’ if they messed up their lines. This was almost like going in for a blind audition, and Harry knew his mother would be the toughest judge to impress.

“Harold!”

“Niall?” Harry’s eyes went wide when his best friend shoved the butler aside and embraced Harry at the door. Mikasa, Niall’s girlfriend, was standing right behind him, wearing a dark green satin dress that fell loosely to her knees. She gave Harry a lopsided smile, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approached.

Harry hadn’t talked to her for weeks, but he assumed she already knew about Ezi. Hopefully just as much as his mother did. Unless Niall had broken the bro code and told Mikasa everything.

“Mimi, long time no see!” Harry said as he went in for a hug.

Mikasa eyed him up and down with her big smokey eyes. He always imagined those eyes having a special power that enabled her to stare right into his soul and read him like an unsealed letter. She was a psychiatrist and always making her friends feel like they were having a regular session in her office.

“So this is your girlfriend?” Mikasa asked, smiling at Ezi.

Harry’s gaze jumped to Niall, who subtly locked his lips with an invisible key and tossed it over his shoulder. Niall knew about the PR relationship, but Harry could always trust Niall not to tell anyone, even Mikasa. Especially Mikasa.

“Darling, you made it!” exclaimed Harry’s mother as she descended the stairs. Harry was just going in for a hug when he saw who were following behind her. And he froze.

Dawson and evil Aunt Beatrice. Dawson was wearing a simple black suit, completely made invisible by his mother in the tackiest neon orange sundress Harry had ever seen. He could hear his stylish crying just from seeing this outfit.

“What are they doing here, Mum?” Harry quietly asked his mother as they hugged.

His mother kissed his cheek and whispered back, “Since you invited Niall and Mikasa, I thought I should invite Dawson and his mother.”

“How is that the same thing?”

“Harry!” Aunt Beatrice said in her glass-breaking voice as she pulled him in for a suffocating bear hug. “Ah, you grew up so fast! I hardly recognise you!”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, Aunt Beatrice.”

“I know, right? Kids these days.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Harry,” Harry’s mother reminded him, so Harry took a deep breath and went to stand beside Ezi. She looked at him like a deer in front of headlights. This couldn’t be good. His family must be overwhelming for her.

“Hey, Ezili!” Dawson waved at her with a smile, and suddenly, her face brightened, and she enthusiastically waved back. Traitorous little fish, Harry thought as he watched the two greet one another.

“Congratulations, you two,” Dawson said.

Ezi opened her mouth to reply when Harry threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to his side. He gave Dawson the best grin he could fake. “Thanks,” was all he said.

“Picture, everyone!” Niall interrupted the awkward interaction and pulled out his phone.

Everyone gathered together, and Niall winked at Harry. “Now, Mother Styles, could you stand closer to Ezili? Closer! Thanks. There we go. Looks like Ezili’s a part of the family.”

Once the picture was taken, he nudged Harry with his shoulder. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Harry patted him on the back. “Send it to Jeff for me.”

“Boys, are you coming?” asked Mikasa, who was walking ahead, holding Ezi’s hand.

“Coming, lovebug!” Niall shouted at her and told Harry. “See? She likes Ezili.”

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“So what do you do for a living?” was the first question Harry’s mother asked Ezili when they sat down at the lunch table. They were eating in a glass house in the flower garden by the lake. There were people dressed in uniforms serving them tea and appetizers, and Ezili felt like she was Alice having tea with the Queen of Hearts and her courtiers in Wonderland.

“I work at a bookstore,” she said when one of the maids filled her cup with Jasmine tea.

She didn’t understand Harry’s mother’s appalled reaction and why Harry had to add, “Ezi owns a bookstore.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Harry’s mother said, sounding strangely relieved.

Irritated, Ezili leaned in and whispered to Harry, “Why did you lie?”

But he didn’t answer and only shushed her before smiling at his mother again.

“Can’t believe I get to live to see Harry bring home a young lady!” said Aunt Beatrice. Dawson opened his mouth to interject, but she didn’t give him a chance, “I always thought you were gay!”

At that, Niall choked on his tea, and Mikasa had to rub his back as he coughed violently into his fist. Ezili knew what gay meant, but why was it a bad thing?

“What if I were?” Harry asked his aunt. “I don’t see the problem with me being gay, which I’m not.”

“These biscuits are so nice, Aunt Annalise,” Dawson told Harry’s mother, probably trying to save the conversation from turning into a fight. But it seemed like Dawson’s mother was out for blood this morning.

“Harry,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and Ezili saw Mikasa and Niall sink into their chairs. “You’re a celebrity and the heir to this manor and your father's business. It’s so...unexpected of you to be dating some girl who works in a bookstore.”

Ezili wasn’t dumb. She might not understand a lot of things humans said, but she knew sarcasm like her mother tongue. It was her time to say something.

“What’s wrong with working in a bookstore?” she asked, making direct eye contact with Aunt Beatrice, who was shocked by the question. Everyone at the table seemed to be holding their breath.

“How much could you possibly do and make by owning a bookstore these days?” Aunt Beatrice laughed.

Ezili smirked and shook her head. “You could do and make a lot if you knew how to read.”

Harry kicked Ezili’s foot under the table, but she didn’t pay him a single glance. She believed she’d said nothing wrong at all. It was only the truth. Because why look down on people who worked at a bookstore unless you hated books because you couldn’t read?

Seeing his mother’s face turning red, Dawson burst out laughing. “Oh my God, she’s so funny!” Mikasa and Niall started laughing, too, and Harry’s mother awkwardly joined in.

“That’s what they call dark humour, Aunt Beatrice,” Niall told the angry giant lady. “Ezi’s a true Gen Z. She’s all jokes.”

Aunt Beatrice said nothing else. She shot a glare at a smiling Ezili and lifted her cup to take a sip.

“Oh, there’s my new cook!” said Harry’s mother as she waved at the door. “This is Dolores' first day at work. Come say hello, Dolores dear.”

“Good morning. I hope everyone’s having a wonderful time.”

Ezili’s entire body went stiff. Her eyes almost popped out of her head and dropped onto the plate in front of her. She knew that voice. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage as she held her breath. She felt the person’s presence beside her heavy like a weight ready to crush her bones into dust. Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked up.

Her sister Koa was grinning down at her.

“Ezili, are you okay?” Dawson asked, snapping Ezili out of her numbness.

Koa’s devilish grin remained as she circled the table after wishing everyone a pleasant meal, then disappeared out of the entrance.

Why was she here? Why did she have legs? How had she found Ezili?

“Okay, let's get straight to the point,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and everyone groaned at once. “How much did he pay you?”

“Mum!” cried Dawson.

“Excuse me?” Harry arched an eyebrow.

“It’s PR, isn’t it?” Aunt Beatrice said to him. Ezili was having a hard time paying attention to the argument while her heart was still pounding in her head. Her sister was here, either for her, or after her.

“You can’t do that to your mother, Harry,” Dawson’s mother went on. “She might be easily fooled but I’m not.”

“We should’ve gone for mini-golf,” Mikasa muttered to Niall, who exhaled into his hand.

Harry turned to his mother. “You’re just gonna let her disrespect my girlfriend like that?”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but his aunt was faster. “If she’s your girlfriend then kiss her.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry scoffed and threw his hands in the air.

Ezili immediately stood up. All eyes fell on her.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I must go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll take you--”

“No, Harry, you stay.”

Harry slowly sat back down as Ezili pushed her chair out and headed straight for the door. Thankfully, he didn’t follow her.

She crossed the garden and asked one of the employees where the kitchen was. As it turned out, they had a separate kitchen for when they served food in the glasshouse. Ezili couldn’t see the point of having more than one kitchen, but this was no time to question it.

When she found Koa, no one else was there but them. It seemed as if Koa had known Ezili would follow her here, so she’d asked everyone else to leave.

Ezili stood at the door while her sister stood by the counter with her back turned to Ezili. The first thing Ezili noticed was the knives within Koa’s reach. Ezili must be wise when confronting her sister.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Koa in Séren.

Koa slowly turned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m a cook. Can't you see?”

“How did you find me?”

The corner of Koa’s lips curled as she unbuttoned the collar of her white shirt and revealed a gold necklace. Ezili sucked in a breath when she saw the shiny trident-shaped medallion on her sister’s chest.

“Is that--”

“Mother’s trident,” Koa sneered. “Yes, it is.” Then she buttoned up her shirt to cover it. “Now we can see who mother trusts more.”

“Why--”

“Aunt Nerissa came for a visit last week,” Koa said. Ezili knew that name could never be associated with anything good. “Mother doesn’t trust her, so she asked me to go on land to find you, but also to keep the trident away from Nerissa’s clutches.”

Ezili swallowed hard, her fists tightly glued to her sides. “What happened to the cook?”

Koa clicked her tongue. “She’s swimming with fishes now. Like the ones swimming in her pot just then.”

“You drowned her?!”

“In the lake.”

Ezili gripped her head and advanced towards Koa. “How many humans have you killed?”

Koa chuckled and took a few steps forward until she was dangerously close enough to hurt Ezili. She stood with her back straight and arms folded, her silver eyes flickering in the sunlight. “The important question is…” She stared Ezili down. “How many have you killed?” Ezili bit her lip when Koa poked her chest with her long nail. “Or are you too busy dating now? People are talking about it everywhere.” Ezili said nothing, so Koa went on, “It’s a fake relationship, isn’t it?” She leaned in, taunting. “Come on, Sister. Admit that you’ve failed. That you can’t make the human fall in love with you. Why so quiet? Is it because if you admit it, you’re an embarrassment and you lose the trident to me, and if you deny it, then it means you’re becoming way too human to kill him.”

At that, Ezili shoved Koa away and stabbed a finger at her. “Leave me alone. Mother gave me a year for this mission.”

“We won’t have that much time, stupid,” Koa snorted. “Narissa is onto something. The queendom is already in danger as we’re speaking. And you’re here having...brunch?” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Pathetic.”

“Ezi?”

Both of them whipped their heads around and saw Harry, who stiffened in the doorway.

“Ezi?” Koa cackled, hugging her stomach. “Is that your human name? Are you his pet now?”

Though confused, Harry stepped into the kitchen anyway. “Ezi, you’re alright?”

“Harry, watch out!” Ezili shouted, but Koa was already on top of Harry on the floor. She sank her fangs into Harry’s arm with the rolled-up sleeve. Harry yelped in pain as Ezili dragged her sister off of him and slammed Koa’s head against the table. Hissing, Koa grabbed a knife on the counter and aimed it at Ezili, but Ezili was fast enough to kick it out of her sister’s grip and sent one more kick into Koa’s stomach. Koa was stronger than Ezili had thought as she plunged at Ezili again.

“Harry, run!”

But Harry didn’t run. He was back on his feet, grabbed a vase and smashed it onto Koa’s back. “Do not hurt my fake girlfriend!”

Koa rolled off of Ezili. The last thing Ezili could see was her sister’s bloodied face as she stumbled towards the door and ran off into the light.

Ezili lay there until her vision cleared again, and Harry helped her back to her feet.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled. “Who the fuck was she?!”

“My sister,” Ezili said, still holding her aching head.

“The one who tried to drown me? Why is she here?”

“To kill me, I think.”

“Why?”

“Harry--”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was pacing back and forth like a mad man. “This isn’t good, Ezi. This is bad! Your crazy sister is gonna expose us!”

“Expose us?” Ezili grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. “She almost killed you.”

It seemed as if Harry had forgotten that his arm was bleeding until Ezili had brought it up. He suddenly winced and fell into a chair.

Ezili scanned her eyes around the messy kitchen, panting as she tried to make sure that Koa had escaped. Then, she got down on her knees beside Harry and reached for his wounded arm.

He stared down at her in confusion, then his expression turned horrified when she leaned in.

“What the fuck?!” he hissed and yanked his arm away.

She glared up at him in annoyance. “Let me help!”

“Hell no! You’re not gonna lick my blood.”

“You need to clean the wound!”

“With water! Not by sucking it!”

Ezili huffed and aggressively got up while silently cursing Harry in Séren.

“There’s a--” His voice cut off when she tore off a piece of her dress “--towel over there,” he trailed off. She ignored him and went to the sink to soak the piece of fabric in water. He shook his head and blew up his cheeks. “Nevermind. You do you.”

Still glaring at him when she returned, Ezili got back down on her knees and started cleaning Harry’s arm. The place her sister had sunk her fangs into had turned dark red. It would definitely leave a huge bruise tomorrow.

“Lucky for you Koa was distracted and didn’t aim to bite your whole arm off,” Ezili whispered and glanced up, meeting Harry’s gaze. “You sure you don’t want me to lick your wound?”

“Well, now that you’re already in this position, you could just lick something else,” he chuckled.

Ezili’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

To her confusion, Harry covered his face and shook with laughter. “Sorry, that was a dumb joke. I just couldn’t help it.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“Yeah, that’s how a joke loses its funny,” he sighed then snapped his fingers. “Ooh, maybe I should just pretend that I don’t understand whenever someone tells me a joke, so that they gradually lose their funny.”

“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Ezili remarked.

“What do you mean?” Harry pouted. “I don’t get it, babe.”

Ezili rolled her eyes at his childishness, still, she couldn’t help but smile a little.

Once she had wrapped the piece of her dress securely around his arm, Harry pulled down the sleeve to cover it as he got to his feet. “That should do. Let’s hope my mother won’t suspect that we just got attacked in her kitchen by her cook, who was your evil siren sister in disguise. Damn, that sounds crazy even for me.”

Ezili stood with her arms crossed. “Do you think your mother can tell we’re not really dating?”

“Nah, my mother totally believes it.” Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I think we’re doing a great job pretending we’re in love when we can’t even have a conversation without insulting each other.”

“I don’t get paid enough to call you babe so many times.”

“Neither do I. This PR relationship is harder than I tho--”

Harry’s sentence got cut off by a sound at the door. When they both turned to it, Dawson was standing there, his eyes wide with shock.

Ezili was hoping that was the reaction to the messy kitchen and not to what she and Harry had said. However, luck wasn’t smiling at her tonight. Dawson’s appalled gaze jumped from Harry to Ezili. “What do you mean by ‘PR relationship’?”

.

.

.

“I can explain,” Ezi said, reaching for Dawson, but he backed away while staring at both her and Harry in disbelief. Harry believed Dawson wasn’t shocked that Harry could pull something like this, because Harry hadn’t been exactly the good kid growing up. What Dawson hadn’t expected was Ezi being part of this plan. Ezi must be an angel in Dawson’s eyes.

“So my mother was right,” Dawson said, flicking his finger between Harry and Ezi. “You were lying to everyone.”

“Dawson--” Ezi began, but Harry pulled her back by her wrist.

“Please don’t tell my mother,” he told Dawson and received stunned looks from both Dawson and Ezi. They probably hadn’t expected that coming from him. “This means a lot to her, and I don’t want her to be any more let down,” Harry continued. “Also, Ezi needs money, and I’m just trying to help. She’s also writing the next album with me, so it’s all good business.”

Dawson peered at both their faces for a long moment as if he was psychoanalysing each of them. Then, he breathed, “So you two don't have feelings for each other?”

“No.” Ezi shook her head fast and tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Harry, tell him.”

Harry opened his mouth. Suddenly, he thought about how frightened he’d been when he’d thought Ezi’s sister was going to kill her. He could’ve run off and let her deal with it alone since he hadn’t asked to be part of her family drama, and he wasn’t brave, either. Nevertheless, he’d jumped in to help her.

“No,” he said, only to realise he shouldn’t have taken such a long pause to say only one word.

“See?” Ezi smiled at Dawson, who seemed less sceptical now.

“Okay,” Dawson said, his face relaxed as he put his hands on his hips. “Who else knows? Niall and Mikasa?”

“Mikasa doesn’t know,” Harry said. “Only Niall.”

“Alright.” Dawson nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But you guys are really bad at pretending to be in love,” he told them after another moment. “I’ll try to tell my mum to stop being rude to you. But just to be safe, you should make it more convincing.”

Ezi heaved a sigh of relief and placed her hand on Dawson’s arm. Harry swore he saw Dawson hold his breath as if Ezi had the Midas touch, and Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“Thank you, Dawson,” Ezi said in the softest tone Harry had ever heard.

“Your dress,” Dawson pointed out while eyeing her and then the kitchen. “What...what happened here?”

“There was a rat,” Harry blurted.

Ezi joined in, “Harry tried to kill it then it knocked over the vase, and I fell and pulled him down with me and ripped my dress on the glass.”

Dawson furrowed his brows as he nodded at the piece of Ezi’s dress in her fist. “That’s your blood?”

Ezi shook her head. “It’s the rat’s.” Then, she looked over at Harry, suppressing a grin. He stayed quiet and glared at her.

“Oh, God. That’s disgusting,” Dawson made a face. “Need me to help you clean up?”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Harry said. “I’ll take Ezi upstairs to clean up. Could you distract everyone for a while?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dawson nodded, gave Ezi a tight-lipped smile and turned to the door. “Now, where the hell is the cook?”

.

.

.

Harry could hear every single word of the Jonas Brothers song playing downstairs. It seemed like everyone had finished brunch without him and Ezi, and now Niall was turning the manor into a concert. Niall and Mikasa had met at a Jonas Brothers’ concert years ago, and they would not let people forget about it. What they had was cute, but Harry could not imagine being with someone for that long. A PR relationship was tiring enough; he didn’t think he could ever handle a real one.

Back against the wall, he stared at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently before he came to knock on the door to his mother’s walk-in closet. “Ezi, are you done?”

“I don’t know how to put this on!”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. “Do you need help?”

“Yeah!”

“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Cover yourself. I’m coming in.”

Just to be safe, he had his hand over his eyes when he opened the door.

You'll say my name like it's been on your lips

Familiar in ways I can't explain

You got a heart that I know I can miss

Hold me like that and pull me right back again

The music outside became muffled. Harry peeked through the gap between his fingers, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Ezi standing there topless with only jeans on. “I told you to cover yourself!”

“Oh, please, there’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

“It’s different every time.”

“How? I’ve only got one body.”

“No, seeing you feels different every time. It’s weird.”

Time stands still and it's only us

What we feel started way before we ever touched

Just imagine only us

Yeah, you found me right before I'd given up

Ezi said nothing, and Harry lowered his hand, feeling glad that she was facing away from him now. She looked over her shoulder, frowning. “Help me with this shirt!”

He ruffled his hair and padded over to take the shirt from her hand. “You got the button stuck?! This is my mother’s favourite Chanel shirt!”

“It was like that when I found it.”

“Liar.” Harry shook his head and started examining the stuck button. Ezi turned around, hugging her chest so her breasts weren’t exposed to him. He was trying his best not to look. Maybe he shouldn’t have put her in a dress that didn’t require a bra. He guessed he’d played himself.

“Harry.”

“Damn, maybe I should get you another shirt and buy a new one for my mum. I don't know how to fix this.”

“Harry,” Ezi repeated and tapped Harry on the arm. He looked up, face heating when he saw her.

I just saw the lightning strike

Knew it right then when I looked in your eyes

And I said to myself, "It's no surprise we ain't strangers"

Strangers tonight

Still, he acted indifferent. “What?”

“I think we should kiss,” she said, making him flinch.

“Why?” He was already sweating through his palms. His mother’s shirt could no longer be saved now.

“To make it more convincing,” Ezi said as if them kissing wasn’t a big deal to her. “Maybe if there’s a picture of us kissing--”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

She froze at the question and blinked at him.

I came here looking for another excuse

To run away from something beautiful

It's like it's driving me closer to you

Every step back pulls me right back

At this question, Ezi’s whole life up until that point flashed before her eyes. She had lost count of all the times she’d kissed sailors before drowning them. But she wasn’t going to kiss Harry to kill him. Not yet at least. He would still be there, alive, when she opened her eyes. He would still be aware of her lips against his. And she would, too.

“No,” she lied.

And he believed it. He cleared his throat. Suddenly, her standing there topless wasn’t weird anymore. “Okay, it’s pretty easy.” He put the shirt aside. His fingers were shaking so he opened and closed his fists a few times before beckoning her over. “Come here.”

She took a step forward.

“Closer.”

Another step.

Harry’s face reddened with a small smile. “Ezi, closer.”

He’d never talked to her in that tone before. It was soft and firm at the same time, and she completely forgot having sworn to herself that she would never let him tell her what to do. She came so close she could not tell his breath from her own. His eyelids fluttered, and his pink lips parted, yet no word escaped. Then, he leaned in.

Must be from a different life

Been here before and it just feels right

No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers

Strangers tonight

But it was her who took his face between her hands and kissed him first. He froze for a second, then started kissing her back, his arms circled around her waist, pressing her against him.

Harry’s entire body grew hot. The voice inside his head told him to stop, but it only made him bolder. He liked that she’d taken charge. Her hands were under his shirt as his roamed across her naked back. His eyes went wide when she unconsciously let out a moan.

Strangers

Strangers

Strangers tonight

“Ezi,” he breathed against her lips. But before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door.

“Harry, are you in there?”

Ezi pulled away as Harry threw his head back and exhaled harshly. “Yes, Niall?”

“Is Ezili there with you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered in a croaked voice and quickly cleared his throat. “Yes,” he repeated, sounding more stable. “Why?”

“You missed all the fun stuff. Your mother scolded your aunt for what she’d said to you and Ezi, and Dawson had to take his mother’s home.”

Harry looked over at Ezi, expecting her to be thrilled by the good news, but she only gave a small smile, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself to cover her breasts. Was she...shy?

Yes, yes she was. Ezi didn’t think she could ever be shy. But here she stood, blushing all over from a stupid kiss.

“Are they in there?” Harry’s mother’s voice outside the door made Harry and Ezi jump.

They looked at each other, scared when Niall told Harry’s mum that they were in the closet together.

“Not in my closet, Harry!”

“I’m just helping Ezi get changed, Mum!”

“You better!”

And then their footsteps faded down the hallway, along with his mother’s laughter.

Ezi and Harry made eye contact with each other and looked away at the same time as silence ensued. Suddenly, Harry started sniffing.

“What is it?” Ezi asked, worried.

Harry leaned in and started sniffing her neck, and she pushed him away. “What the hell?!”

“You smell.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No.” Harry shook his head fast. “You smell good. But..you didn’t have a smell before.”

Ezi quickly lifted her arm to smell herself. “I smell nothing.”

“That’s because it’s your own smell, so you don't recognise it. But--” Harry cut off midsentence and picked up a strand of her hair and brought his nose to it. Then, his lips curled. “Aww, my kiss turned you a little more human.”

“Shut up!” Ezi shoved at his chest. “I’m not turning more human! That’s not true!”

“It is true! Kiss me again. I’ll prove it.”

She said nothing, only glared at him as he burst out laughing and tossed her a t-shirt.

[unstoppableforcce]

marked in red pen

CHAPTER ONE: a cold morning

pairing: Javier Peña x journalist!f! reader

next part | masterlist

she’s lengthy, something like 5k :))

a/n: well, I wrote this during my break, I don’t know if I got better or I got worse but I wrote it! it’s good to be back writing and I really like this idea and can’t wait to keep going !!

He didn’t remember how to live in a city that wasn’t in Colombia. 

The echo around the small staff parking lot clearly came from a car backfiring, yet his mind immediately jumped to a gunshot, like all the ones he had fired and all the ones that had been fired back at him. As his dress shoes stepped out onto the loose and dusty asphalt of the lot, the fresh morning breeze froze him with the shocking chill of winter, yet it was the distinct sound of the car backfiring that woke him up the rest of his way out of his self-induced hangover. 

It sounded like a gunshot. 

It was nearly 8 in the morning on a regular old Monday in Austin, yet he jumped like the sound had echoed around a small Colombian alleyway where Carrillo was holding an army of young boys on their knees. And with the haunting noise came the onslaught of painful memories whether he recognized the reality of the situation or not, the same wave of emotions that used to keep him up in an empty bed back in Bogota now crashing over him as he leaned against the side of his car with a bag of papers over his shoulder instead of a gun on his hip. He could feel the guilt tearing him apart from the inside out, he could feel the weight of his conscious settling heavy in his gut and on his shoulders, pulling him to the ground and exacerbating the very real pain in his back with a phantom pull. 

Each breath of freezing air in and out did little to calm him even as he fought his own mind back towards some semblance of composure while his colleagues exited their cars around him and began walking in towards campus. His lungs burned with the fresh assault of the winter chill while also aching for the burn of something stronger, for one of the straggling cigarettes he was sure he could find in the car despite having quit nearly a year ago when he got back. 

Back to the States, back to Texas and now back to Austin. 

Another round of deep breaths and he slowly began to regain a hint of himself back, he wasn’t sure what that was worth but breath after breath, as the memories that were somewhat of a constant fixture in his damaged mind began to fade back into their quiet lingering in the back of his mind, he slowly found himself back in the staff parking lot. His vision was still faded at the edges, but he could muster up enough strength in his chest to look down to his watch, the nice, new, expensive one that the DEA had given him as a parting present. The edges of the cold metal dug uncomfortably into the skin of his wrist, and every shift he made pinched the hair of his arm within the metal brackets of the band, but the crystal face did what it was designed to do and told him that it was no longer just nearly 8 in the morning, it was exactly 8 in the morning. 

And his lecture started in ten minutes. 

It wasn’t even a gunshot, it was a sound that vaguely resembled a gunshot and three minutes had to pass before he could stand up straight again. 

What is wrong with me? He cursed close to his chest as his freezing, trembling hands moved to rub over his eyes before adjusting the strap of his bag securely on his shoulder. Whatever he was feeling didn’t matter, he had to lock his car and get to class. 

The ghost town like campus he crossed to get to his lecture hall was a fair preparation for what was in store for him when he walked in, just a minute before he was obligated to begin lecturing. The students who had the decency to show up were scarce and separate across the 60 person lecture hall, maybe filling up about a third of the seats if he was being favorable in his estimates. It wasn’t a surprise, not only had it been exactly the same for the majority of his first semester teaching, but on day one of this current semester, when he announced that attendance wasn’t mandatory, he was quickly interrupted by one student packing up and leaving on the spot, before the syllabus was even fully covered. 

The twenty or so students he did get were always the same. He was bad at learning names, but it was the second week of classes and he had their faces, he had always been better with faces. Whether it was sitting for hours on stakeouts mentally cataloging every face that passed while Steve took diligent photos for them to search through later or keeping track of the students who regularly showed up for his lectures, he was good with faces. 

It was why he knew that you didn’t belong the second he dropped his bag to the desk, pulled out a stack of papers, and lifted his head to say ‘good morning’ only to find a brand new face sat in the back row of his desolate and moderately dilapidated lecture hall. 

His head immediately went into a downward spiral, considering and subsequently crossing out theory after theory as to who you were, immersed among his students, yet too old and too put-together to be one of them. While they couldn’t care less that he walked in the room to begin lecturing, you were actually paying attention, following him as he pulled out his good pen and lecture notes, still following him as he turned to the board to begin writing only to turn back to grab chalk from his bag when he found none at the board. He only made eye contact with you once, the first time he caught sight of you, but he was trained for this sort of thing, for feeling a pair of eyes staying attached to him even as he turned his back or looked away, and it stuck with him as well as all the haunting memories. 

Were you auditing the class? Surely he would have been told to expect you or at the very least, he would recognize you as another member of his department, but you weren’t, so clearly that wasn’t the case. Maybe you were lost? But then again, with the way your stare locked to him the second he walked in, that also wasn’t the case at hand. A grad student with questions? A desperate TA looking for a job and hoping he was given the budget to hire one? Even those felt like a stretch, besides, he had office hours posted on the wall outside his office and in the department catalog, any student would just find him then. 

That left him with one remaining, yet exhaustedly confusing option. You weren’t a student, you weren’t associated with the university at all. 

What did that mean for why you were there? He couldn’t say. 

He glanced back down to his watch and sucked in a deep breath of the stale, warm air of the room, and resigned himself to the fact that it was now twelve minutes after the hour. He had to start class, whoever you were was a problem for him once class was finished.

“Good morning…” He exhaled the heavy breath and paced toward the middle of the space allotted for him to lecture in, chalk in one hand and slowly loosening fist in the other which came up to rub over the top of his mustache as he cleared his throat. “I have your short answer questions back from last week, but I’ll have you come get them after class so that I can start talking about today’s topic of government oversight…” 

By the half hour mark, as expected, a handful of students were beginning to doze off while he outlined the exemptions to the Freedom of Information act. But not you in the back of the class, leaned back in your seat with your hands in your lap, diligently following along while even his students who tried to take notes were falling behind as yawns overtook them. 

That was the way it continued for the rest of the hour as well. By the time the hands beneath the crystal of his watch face where clicking softly towards the nine o'clock hour and the distant chimes of the clock tower out in the courtyard rang out, his students were only awake because he was calling out their names, attempting to pass back their short answer responses from last Monday’s lecture. Each one who grabbed their paper took it, stuffed it into their bag, and cleared from the room about as fast as they were likely to move if they were fleeing a fire, like his lectures were somehow as disastrous an equivalent. 

Some had the decency to say a quick ‘thank you’ before leaving at a normal pace, but it was a minority of students at best. Thankfully, having less students in lecture meant having less to pass back, the rest of the students would just have to come get them during office hours. 

That left him with just you in the large and empty lecture hall. The mysterious you. 

“Can I help you with something?” He voiced once the final student took their paper and left the room. 

He turned back to his desk, sticking the stack back in his bag as he heard you descending the lecture hall stairs behind him, but within seconds, as he moved to put his pen away alongside his lecture notes, you were in front of him, extending your hand and introducing yourself. 

Your smile confirmed what he was already sure he knew, you were no student. The last time a student smiled in this room was when he said that his tests would be relatively easy on the first day of class while he was going over the syllabus, and yours was too mature to paint you as a student, too warm as it filled the emptiness of the stale air. 

Still, that left him with nothing else to go off of as he took you hand for a firm, respectful shake and offered his name in return, “Javier Peña.”

Then you finished your introduction and any breath of fresh air you had offered to the stagnant room fell as flat as his monotone voice did while he lectured. 

“I’m a reporter with the Austin Statesman.” 

There was no hiding his distaste for journalists, so why even bother. It had been bred into him long before he ever got involved with the DEA but ever since returning to the states, it had grown more and more like hatred instead of distaste if he was being honest.

He was hounded by calls from reporters across the country wanting him to talk about Escobar and Colombia and what it was all like, just so they could put his face on the front page under a headline that read ‘Escobar’ and reap the benefits of selling his soul out for entertainment. A reporter even had the audacity to show up at his father’s house trying to ask him questions about what he thought of the whole thing. 

So when the scoff bubbled out of his chest and his hand singed from where he held yours, he made no attempt to hide it. He pulled his hand away, rolled his eyes and finished filling his bag, able to keep his stare from your form for the first time since he had noticed you, he wanted you to be the furthest thing from his mind even as you moved to maintain his attention. 

“You won’t even hear me out?” 

He could hear the amusement in your voice as you fought back, and as he spared a quick glance back to you, he found your stood steady across from him, hands holding the strap of your messenger bag which crossed your chest with a steady kind of confidence settling in your shoulders. It was smugness, and for a man who had spent his entire career surrounded by the most smug men imaginable, government men, he had to say, you were doing a fine job of it yourself. 

He hated it. It might have looked better on you than it ever did the men in suits that surrounded him, but he still hated it. 

“I’m not interested.” He spoke as a matter of fact as he collected the last of his things, put his bag back on his shoulder and moved passed you towards the door his students had just left through. 

But it had been naïve to think that the dedication that led you to sit through his entire lecture would suddenly evaporate as he moved out into the hall now bustling with students moving to their next classes. With one glance over his shoulder, he found you matching his intensity to get away with your intensity to keep up. 

And as he burst through the outside doors, he found you going step for step with him out into the cold breeze of the courtyard filled with students crossing in every direction. 

“You don’t even know why I’m here,” you spoke up as he seemed to only move faster, fighting you as much as he was fighting for warmth in the freezing winter morning. 

“You’re a reporter for the Austin paper, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

With another glance back over his shoulder, his stare landed on you in the exact moment your eyes gave a subtle roll and a scoff, equally as indignant as his own had been, fell from your wind-chapped lips. Lips he had absolutely no business looking at, he reminded himself as he turned his head back to the hoard of sleep-deprived students around him with no plans to stop for you to catch up. Not until his feet hit the dampened grass in the middle of the courtyard and he felt a hand grab the loose fabric where his suit jacket bunched at the bend of his elbow. 

He was stopped where he stood and you quickly moved around him to come face to face with him, brow firm with a determination he was all too familiar with. It wasn’t just stubbornness, he could see that much clearer now as the gentle rays of sun cut through the grey morning clouds to illuminate your face, it was absolute determination. 

The same determination that caught him Escobar. 

“I’m sure I’m not the first to come with this offer but it’s not what you think,” you huffed, the exhausted breath hot as it fled your lips but quickly condensing in the icy air between the two of you as you settled in front of him.

The cold was biting at your bare face and attacking your fingertips, forcing a desperate clench to your fists around the strap of your back across your chest as you, very subtly but easily noticed by his careful watching eye, bounced on your toes while you held his attention and continued, “I’m not interested in writing some glorified Escobar tell-all.”

Another chilly breeze whipped through the courtyard as the students around the two of you continued streaming, flowing like diligent fish in a school, into the surrounding buildings in a blur. One by one they passed by in his peripheral, but with his breath holding stale in his throat, he truly only saw you and each individual edge to your face, as equally stern in its seriousness as soft in its sincerity.

Every painful memory that haunted his head told him to keep his mouth shut and his brow furrowed, but his gut said something else entirely. 

His gut had gotten him through fire and fury and home in mostly one piece every night, and as he looked at you, scanning your disposition and lingering on your focused face, his gut was telling him that he could trust you at your word. It wasn’t his heart, or any other muscle in his body as his stare held heavy on your face, it truly was his gut. And he trusted his gut.

Fuck… he was itching for a cigarette. 

“What do you have an… interest in?” He sucked his lip briefly through his teeth as his hand mindlessly reached for his mustache again, his freezing fingertips pushing it down as he moved to rub over his lips.

“Right now?” You quirked your head a little to the side, your shoulders raising to your ears slightly. “To be having this conversation in a heated building?”

The scoff that fell out of his chest was admitably slightly hostile, but the gentle nod of his head was not. Within the second it left his lips, he found himself continuing his walk towards the old office building ahead and you trailing right behind him, a smugness still settled comfortably on your lips.

He even did better than a warm building.

As he left you in his office for a brief second to grab himself a cup of coffee, he found a clean extra mug and poured you a fresh cup as well. Your ‘thanks’ was quiet as you accepted it, and as he settled down in his seat behind his desk, he drew you back from where you stood by the back wall, casually studying his diplomas and book shelf.

“If not an Escobar entertainment piece, what did you have in mind?”

He pulled you back to reality and after you stole a sip of your coffee, you settled into the seat across from him. “My editor wants a promotable local to put in a headline and I promised you, it doesn't really matter what I write about as long as your name is in big print above the fold.”

He laughed. A real laugh. He barely remembered what it felt like but as soon as it started, he knew it was a genuine laugh.

It was funny, ironic actually, you couldn’t see that, obvious by the twist of your face in confusion, but it was all he could see.

It was the kind of shit he would have pulled when he was younger, more dedicated to his position, and as driven as you were. Doing the most you could in the way you wanted while still technically doing as you were told, it was damn near poetic. 

“He won’t mind if you don’t mention Escobar?” He countered, feeling warmth spark in his chest as his coffee burned down his throat with a deep swallow. 

But you just shrugged, doing the same. “She just wants to sell papers, won’t mind if readers don’t necessarily find the entertainment they expect.”

“And what will they find?” Relaxing back in his seat, holding his coffee close to his chest, he watched as you did the same, reclining into the uncomfortable wooden chair with one leg uncrossed from the other. 

“I’ll write whatever you want me to write. I mean, it should at least be slightly relevant to Colombia but if you just want to say ‘hey, I was there and now I’m here, teaching at my alma mater,’ I’m sure I can manage something like that.”

He scoffed again, but this time, it echoed out of his chest much more like a chuckle than like a scoff, no heat, no annoyance, nothing more than a small hint of amusement, something he hadn’t felt rattle around his chest in a long time. Too long… And he knew why that was. 

He knew why he tried to get away from you the second you showed up, and while some of it definitely had to do with the press badge lanyard hanging out of your bag where it was sat next to your feet, a lot of it had to do with the determination he saw in your brow in the first second after he blew you off. It was something he could find himself too easily attracted to, and that wasn’t what he deserved. 

He deserved cold mornings and colder nights, kept awake by the aggressive, tormenting nightmares of his own reality, not warm coffee and laughs. Whatever this was, whatever it had the potential to be, even if it were to just be you writing a piece with his name and his story, it just wouldn’t work. 

Any gut feeling about you was trampled by the solid the solid reality of the matter. He didn’t deserve it and he knew that. 

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at talking about myself, or Colombia, or anything that would make a story, so…” He trailed off, trying to keep his eyes anywhere but where your lingering stare could find it, specifically, the deep dark color of the coffee in his cup while the bitter taste sat heavy in his mouth. But the words he needed to get out, those were much worse settling on his tongue. “I’m sorry, I just don’t think it will work.”

As his hand reached up to rub absentmindedly over his nose and mouth again, his stare hesitantly lifted to yours, trying to get a read on where you were at, but your smug smirk had yet to vacate your lips where you leaned back in your seat. 

“I’m a pretty good writer, Agent Peña,” you argued. 

“I have no trouble believing that, but I’m not good at this, I can’t—”

He couldn't even get the words out before you were leaning forward to leave your mug on his desk and bending down for your bag. His mouth opened to sputter out some defense, but you hadn’t left yet, you had just pulled a small business card from the side pocket of your bag and put it into his hand, and when he looked from the two phone numbers that followed your name and title at the Statesman, he found the smug look had softened on your face but hadn’t dissipated entirely. 

“There’s actually a protest happening across campus right now, so I’ve got to get going…” you trailed off with a shrug. 

“You double-booked me?”

With a laugh, you grabbed your bag and tossed it effortlessly over your shoulder and gave another brief shrug, “The job keeps me pretty busy and I figured I would already be on campus, so.”

He stood to match your height and extended a hand for you to shake as another apology spilled from his lips, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be that headline for your boss.”

“So you say.”

“Excuse me?” His head quirked as your hand took his with a shake equally as firm in it’s determination as your brow was. 

“I was embedded overseas, I know the look,” you shrugged, much to casual for what you were implying as you dropped his hand and stepped back towards the shut office door. “Call any time, if you don’t get me, you’ll get my assistant and she can track me down.”

Looking down at the card, twirling the sharp edges of the card stock between his fingers, he was stuck, knowing something needed to be said on his end but not capable of finding the words.

You weren’t done yet though, “Any hour. Whether you want to talk about the piece I’m going to write or, I don’t know, maybe how to keep your students awake during lecture. Just, call anytime.”

His head twisted as confusion over took him, "The piece you’re going to write? I just said—”

“I heard what you said.” Your smile was truly genuine as it found your lips, erasing any hint of mocking smugness as you held the doorknob and lingered in his doorway. “I’ll be awaiting your call.”

But that wasn’t your final line, not as you held in the doorway and pointed towards his diplomas, specifically towards the University of Texas diploma closest to the door. “You know, I’ve got one of these too.”

“A lot of people do...” he sighed, settling back in his chair with a huff of exhaustion much to heavy for the hour of the morning that read on his uncomfortable watch.

But as his stare drifted back to you in the doorway, having expected you to have already left but finding you still lingering, he saw something else in the way you looked back to him. Something he had been hard pressed to find ever since he got back, something he certainly hadn’t found in the eyes of any other reporters that had stopped by.

It was understanding to some degree. Not just because the two of you shared an alma mater, but something else. Like you had said, you knew his look.

He thought you had just meant that you knew plenty of men who didn’t like to talk about their feelings but that wasn’t what you were getting at. There was something else there, another layer that you saw through, another level of understanding.

Maybe he was hallucinating it, or maybe his gut was right from the first moment he saw you. He could truly trust you at your word.

“Seriously, any hour,” you smirked one last time before your hand offered a brief wave and you disappeared through the doorway, out into the hall.

It should have been simple. 

He knew where he stood when it came to selling his story for entertainment, he knew it was wrong and he knew he wanted nothing to do with any reporter. Yet, your card stayed twirling in his hand for longer than it should have, and instead of it finding it’s way to the bottom of his wastebin, it found a safe home in the top drawer of his desk. 

For a rainy day. He told himself, he never knew when he might need a trustworthy reporter... 

He found his answer at the end of that week. 

Work stress was nothing new to him, but with that piled on top of the boredom that came with reading essays and the combined stress of trying to limit his drinking and stay a non-smoker, he was sinking. He hadn’t had a drink all week, he was being good, like he promised his doctor but... but fuck, he needed one now. 

But instead of finding a whisky bottle in the first desk drawer he opened, he found your business card. 

It should have been simple. The problem was that Javier Peña had never been very good at simple. 

You sounded positively exhausted as you picked up on the other end with a practiced repetition of your last name and position at the paper, but as he reintroduced himself, the harsh cut of your words seemed to roll back on your tongue as the same smug disposition you wore on your face carried through the phone. 

“I knew you’d call...”

His laugh was as exhausted as yours was, and even as every fiber of his rational mind was screaming that he was making a mistake, he licked over his bottom lip, reclined in his desk chair and kept talking. “Is it out of line to ask you out for a drink?”

There was a brief moment of silence as the rustling of your notepads and papers in the background stopped, and he truly feared he was overstepping the professional boundary you had approached him with. 

“Only if I let you buy mine for me,” you shot back, wearing a smirk on your lips that he could hear through the phone. “Meet me at sixth and Congress in twenty minutes?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

It was a mistake, but even knowing that, he stood up from his desk, loosened his tie and undid the first few buttons of his shirt before heading out to meet you. 

He had made worse mistakes. 

—

tags! (open)

@imananxiousdriver @kaetastic @revolution-starter @littlevodika​

[awkwardpenguinproductions]

Stealth Chapter 3: The Injustice

Part 5 of Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

The third time is because of an injustice.

After ten months of living in the Stronghold, Zuko has the entire complex mapped out in his mind, every room and corridor, and every possible means of entrance and exit for all of them. He knows that the higher up the Central Tower one goes, the higher one's rank must be to be permitted entrance. Colonel Shinu's office, and the offices kept for visiting officials on military business, are on the second highest level. The highest security holding cells, the ones meant to hold powerful benders, are on the highest level. Zuko visits both those levels every couple of months, to keep his hand in and keep the soldiers assigned for guard duty on their toes.

Right now, though, he's in a much lower level of the Tower, in the vents above the dorm occupied by one of the companies of infantry that are stationed long-term at the Stronghold. Jun Company, if he remembers correctly. The company is on downtime, and most of the soldiers are gathered around their captain's bunk as he hands out their mail. Once the captain is finished with his task, the crowd disperses and he picks up his own scroll.

The soldiers read their letters eagerly, commenting on bits of news, both good and bad, from their families and friends. Zuko listens intently, curious at what life is like for people outside the palace city or the Stronghold. A lot of the soldiers of Jun Company come from the outer islands of the Fire Nation archipelago, and their news involves lots of boats and fishing and weather. Many others come from towns and cities on islands deeper in, and they talk more about trade, and crafting, and complaints about various officials. Everyone talks about their parents, siblings, children, spouses. On the whole, everyone seems pretty pleased with what they read, although some are simply happy to hear from their loved ones, even if their news is bad.

However, the captain in the corner growls and crumples his letter in his hands.

"Everything okay, Captain Daichi?" A nearby sergeant asks.

"My aunt says they haven't received any of my cousin's death gratuity, and it's been over a year," the captain sighs, placing his head in his hands.

"Your cousin was in the 41st Division, right Cap?" Another soldier asks, and Zuko's blood freezes in his veins. "My sister said that one of her neighbors had a kid in the 41st, and they haven't heard or gotten diddly squat after the initial death notice."

Other members of the company chime in with comments as well, all similar in subject: none of the families they know who had a son or daughter in the 41st Division have gotten the payment of gold the survivors of soldiers killed on active duty are owed, nor have they gotten any notice of when they can expect it.

Zuko slips away, shimmying back to a spot he can exit the vent, and then sticking to the shadows as he retreats to the Yuyan dorm. Various members of the Troop glance his way, but aside from a few waves of greeting, no one bothers him. He slips into his bunk, hugging Pandan to his chest and pulling the blanket over his head.

Zuko has to breathe shallowly to keep his firebending from responding to his fury. It's bad enough that Father (should he even call him that anymore? Commander Toshiaki and Captain Hiroki have acted more like fathers in the months he's known them than Fire Lord Ozai has acted in years) has gone ahead with the horrible plan to kill an entire division full of kids Kai's age for no reason at all; but to not even compensate their families for the trauma of losing their loved ones? Or even tell the survivors why they're not being compensated? Zuko knows, in an intellectual way, that some people join the Fire Nation Armed Forces not only for patriotism, but as a way to support their families. As bad as it would be to lose a loved one, and Zuko knows all too well how badly that hurts, it must be at least as horrible to lose the income that person provided, and to not at least get an explanation why… it would look like the Fire Lord doesn't care about the lives that could be in danger because they have no way to make ends meet.

And Zuko knows that the Fire Lord doesn't care, but the people don't know that, and the Fire Lord can't afford to alienate such a huge swath of the Fire Nation's population. He would have ensured that proper protocol was followed, if only to keep up the appearance of a sympathetic and benevolent ruler to his people who sacrifice so much for their nation.

Which means that something within the bureaucracy has gone wrong. And Zuko is going to find out just exactly what.

A few more days of spying around the infantry barracks and asking some carefully worded questions, and Zuko is positive that this is more than just a bureaucratic mistake. The problem is too widespread and affecting too many people. But knowing about a problem and being able to do anything about it are two different things, and the first is far easier than the second.

Until the Finance Ministry official arrives at the Stronghold.

He comes in a fancy carriage pulled by a dragon-moose, wearing Caldera Court robes instead of sensible traveling clothes, and clutching a box to his chest. He demands to be taken immediately to see Colonel Shinu, and is promptly escorted into the Central Tower. Zuko is immediately burning with curiosity and suspicion, and slips away. Ten minutes later, he's laying motionless in the vent that opens into Colonel Shinu's office, listening to the official (Sota by name) announce that he will be conducting a financial audit of the Stronghold and its operations, and requires a secure office in which to conduct his work. Colonel Shinu's face turns to stone at this pronouncement, but he can't really say no, since doing so would make the slimy rat-viper think that he has something to hide and be that much more obnoxious about his audit. Easier and less headache to just let the guy do his thing and get him out of everyone’s hair as quickly as possible.

Except that he doesn’t get out of everyone’s hair. Zuko watches as Minister Sota moves into an office, and continues watching for a month, but the minister never shows any visible sign of moving out. Zuko’s suspicions continue to grow with each passing day. He doesn’t know how long it takes to perform an audit of a base’s finances, but he can’t imagine it taking more than two or three weeks, since Colonel Shinu keeps impeccable records and ensures that his entire command staff does the same. Commander Toshiaki takes two days to compile his report on the Troop’s finances—Zuko knows this because the Commander asked him to assist the last two times it had to be done. The only reason it takes that long at all is because the Commander, who can perform archery tricks that should be impossible according to every known law of physics, has to write down every equation before he can laboriously calculate them with his fingers. Minister Sota’s job is all about mathematics, it shouldn’t take him over a month to check calculations that are already complete.

And then there’s the minister’s behavior. He’s as snooty and insufferable as anyone can expect a government official to be, but he also refuses to allow Stronghold custodial staff to clean the office he occupies without his direct supervision, declines any and all invitations to join the Colonel for dinner or even a drink in his quarters, and creeps around the Stronghold like he constantly expects someone to drag him off to be fed to tigerdilloes at any moment. As far as Zuko can tell by listening to the mutterings of the Stronghold's clerks, Minister Sota is ordering financial ledgers to be delivered to his office, and then when he orders them removed, they appear as though they hadn't been touched at all in the hours (or days, or weeks, in one case) between delivery and retrieval. It's like the man is only pretending to do his job, but if he's not doing the work that he says he came to do, then what exactly is he doing instead?

Zuko wants to find out, but there's no way that Colonel Shinu would allow a search of Minister Sota's office and quarters without really good reason, and simply because the man is acting suspicious is not a good reason.

Six weeks after Minister Sota's arrival, Zuko is called to Colonel Shinu's office ten minutes before light's out. He enters the office to find Commander Toshiaki is already there, and Zuko freezes. Is this it? Almost a year of training and living with the Yuyan Archers, and now they decide to kick him out? Will he be able to say goodbye to his squad, and Master Ryoichi, and the rest of his friends? Will he be able to keep his weapons––the bow he's finally able to shoot with consistent accuracy, the dual dao that had appeared on his bunk a week after joining Chihese Squad, the four sets of throwing knives he'd received for his fifteenth birthday? He's much more confident in his ability to care for himself than he was a year ago, but… he loves living at the Stronghold. He doesn't want to leave.

He doesn't want to be alone again.

He doesn't realize that he's hyperventilating until Commander Toshiaki's hands land gently on his shoulders and his dark Yuyan eyes meet Zuko's own bright gold.

Peace, Cadet Zuko, he signs, movements slow and easy. Nothing is wrong. The Colonel and I have a mission for you.

Well now Zuko feels really stupid. With a sharp mental shake, he forces his dry mouth to swallow, and bows with the Flame in salute to the Colonel. The Colonel returns the salute with a much shallower bow.

"Commander Toshiaki tells me that you're the most skilled infiltrator he's seen in several years," the Colonel begins, standing at parade rest with his hands behind his back. "You originally entered this facility in the back of a supply cart, correct? And then there's the matter of the tank that mysteriously ended up on the roof of the Central Tower several weeks ago, but since no one has seen fit to come forward to take responsibility for that incident, it is merely speculation and not worth wasting time on." The Colonel's expressionless mask cracks with a small smirk, and Zuko fights down the urge to blush and merely blinks in return, not twitching from his own parade rest.

The Colonel goes to sit at a low table where tea is laid out. "At ease, both of you."

Zuko and the Commander both sit at the table, and the Colonel pours tea for the three of them. Winter has arrived again, and Zuko wraps his hands around the cup and savors the extra warmth.

"I'm sure you've noticed our esteemed guest, Cadet Zuko?" He asks.

Zuko nods, and almost lets go of his teacup to sign before remembering himself and gripping it tighter.

"You have permission to speak freely, Cadet." Colonel Shinu's tone is knowing, and Zuko is sure that he's hiding a smirk behind his cup.

Still nervous, Zuko slowly raises his hands. With all due respect, Colonel, he signs, just barely remembering to use the proper sign for "commanding officer" instead of the teasing slang the Archers use outside the Colonel's presence, for all that the esteemed minister is rarely seen outside of his assigned quarters and office, it would be hard to miss his presence. He does his best to keep his face as serious and professional as possible, so that they don't think he's trying to be impertinent, but Commander Toshiaki's lips twitch anyway, and Zuko feels his shoulders tighten.

The Colonel raises an eyebrow. "I have a feeling that I'm going to regret allowing you to speak freely," he says, but this time he doesn't hide his small amused smile behind his teacup.

Commander Toshiaki places a soothing hand on Zuko's shoulder before signing, I know that you've been keeping an eye on the minister when you've had the opportunity. Please report your observations, Cadet.

Zuko is now really confused, but obeys the order. The minister rarely leaves his assigned office, and only to go to his quarters. He avoids letting anyone into his office without him being there, not even the custodians. He avoids socializing with anyone, even when it could be advantageous to him. It's like… he's hiding here. Not just hiding something, he's taking advantage of the Stronghold's security to hide himself.

Now the Colonel's amused smile has turned surprised and impressed, and Zuko doesn't try to stamp down the pleased flush he feels, taking a sip of the tea. It's not quite as good as what Zuko remembers of Uncle’s brews, but it's warm and he feels awkward just holding the cup.

“Very perceptive, Cadet,” the Colonel praises. “Minister Sota has been acting quite suspiciously, and I agree that he’s definitely hiding something. However, I can’t order a search of his office based only on suspicious behavior. And I don’t want to spook the man into doing something foolish by making it obvious that I suspect him. Which is why I asked Commander Toshiaki to suggest someone who could be counted on to make a discreet investigation of the minister's office, and report on what they found."

Zuko nearly chokes on his tea. Before now, his missions for Commander Toshiaki have been mere exercises to pinpoint and rectify issues with the Stronghold's internal security. This is real espionage, and something entirely different.

And yet… if the Commander hadn't called him into this meeting, he probably would've resorted to something like that anyway. Over the past month and a half, more letters have arrived about the surviving families of the 41st Division not receiving their due compensation, and the overall tone of the letters has been increasingly frustrated and desperate. It can't be a coincidence that this suspicious-acting Finance Ministry official shows up just as this issue is gaining traction with the population. He doesn't know if the Colonel and the Commander are aware of the situation with the 41st's survivors' compensation, and he doesn't want to bring it up without proof, but this is the perfect opportunity to find out if there actually is something behind his suspicions without potentially alienating his commanders.

Zuko bows with the Flame. I am honored by the confidence Commander Toshiaki has in me, he signs.

My confidence is well deserved, the Commander replies with a warm smile.

"I understand if it takes you some time to prepare and perform the task, but I'd like you to keep in mind that your target could decide to vacate the Stronghold at any moment," the Colonel says. "Commander Toshiaki is going to let your squad leader know that you've been tapped for a mission at my request, but changing your duty roster in any way might trigger suspicion in the target."

I understand, sir, Zuko replies, completely unsurprised.

"Excellent, I look forward to your report. Dismissed, Cadet."

Zuko stands and bows with the Flame again, before turning on his heel and marching out of the office. He's got work to do.

It takes another week to do his surveillance and formulate his plan. Some careful questioning of the custodial staff reveals that despite his apparent paranoia, Minister Sota keeps to a rigid schedule: rise at two hours past sunrise and go immediately to his borrowed office, eat all three meals at his desk, loom over the custodial staff as they work, and at an hour before midnight return to his quarters. It's the period of time between the hour before midnight and sunrise that interests Zuko––that seems to be the only time all day that Sota vacates the office, and therefore is the best time to enter and perform his search.

As much as it puts him on edge, he schedules the operation for the next new moon, two weeks after his meeting with the Colonel and Commander. He watches the target even more closely in the interim, hoping to get some warning as to whether the coward is going to bolt, but Sota seems firmly entrenched and disinclined to go anywhere.

The night of the new moon arrives, and Zuko slips out of the Yuyan dorm and to the bathroom. It takes him mere moments to transform from bedraggled teenager in dark pajamas to charcoal-colored shadow in a blue mask.

The lights in the corridors of the Stronghold are almost entirely extinguished, in respect to Agni’s slumber, and most firebenders would be hard-pressed to find their way without much more light than is available. But shadows have always been Zuko’s friends, both Before and After, and he slips in and out of them silently, with the ease of long practice.

He arrives at the target’s borrowed office with ten minutes to spare. He spends them crouched just around the corner, eyes closed, waiting patiently for the target to emerge.

Sota does, at precisely an hour before midnight, slamming the metal door shut with a clang that echoes down the corridors and alerts the entire Stronghold that he’s turning in for the night.  His heavy footsteps stomp in the opposite direction of Zuko’s location, and he can’t decide for a moment if Sota is really that arrogant or if he’s just a complete idiot. Could be that he’s both.

He gives the moron fifteen minutes to remember something he’d forgotten and return for it. When he doesn’t, Zuko strides forward silently and tries the door. It opens easily, and while Zuko appreciates not having to pick the lock, he puts another tally in the "Sota's an idiot" column.

The office he enters is cluttered with scrolls and ledgers, and for a moment Zuko despairs of actually finding anything in the mess. Then he remembers the box that Sota had arrived with, and decides to start there. It takes some fancy footwork to weave around the stacks of paperwork and books without disturbing anything, but he has the time to be careful.

He finally finds the box in honestly the stupidest place––under the desk. There's another check for the "idiot" column. Maybe two checks, since the office comes equipped with a safe that Zuko still needs more practice to crack. He should probably check the safe anyway, just to be thorough.

Focus, dum-dum, Zuko chides himself, and studies the box, memorizing its position before he moves it. It's the ugliest thing he's ever seen, glossy red lacquer painted all over with gilded phoenixes and covered in shiny brass hardware. It would look right at home in a stuffy noble's mansion, and here in the utilitarian Stronghold it sticks out like a sore thumb. It's also got a massive iron padlock on it, which just screams "OPEN ME, I'M IMPORTANT".

He's just about to slide the box out from under the desk when a noise out in the corridor makes him freeze. Footsteps. Not the arrogant stomping of Sota, thank Agni, and a Yuyan would never announce himself so obviously, not even that moron Zheng. A regular guard, then, doing his rounds. Zuko channels his frustration into the vertical leap he makes to catch hold of the exposed iron pipes near the ceiling, pulling himself up and stretching out along the length like a pygmy puma lounging along a tree branch. He breathes silently and waits.

The door opens, and the guard takes a step inside, glancing around, before exiting and closing the door again. Zuko makes a note to suggest that the guards be reminded that they aren't to be making simple cursory searches on their rounds. That guard's bad habit is Zuko's gain, however, so he supposes he'll let it slide this time.

Once the guard's footsteps fade away, Zuko drops silently back down to the floor and pulls the gaudy box out from under the desk. The lock is hilariously simple to pick, and he has it done in seconds. He opens the box to find…

Scrolls.

For a moment his brain blanks on why a bunch of scrolls would be kept in a ridiculously ostentatious box secured with an iron padlock, and then he picks up one of the scrolls and unrolls it a bit.

41st Division Roster. Commanding Officer: Major General…

Zuko rolls the scroll back up and puts it back in the box. Another scroll lists the next of kin of every member of the 41st, with village names and home islands included, while others are covered in columns of numbers. Some of the columns don't add up. His rage is burning in his chest, but he carefully tucks a scroll dated a month before the minister showed up (it takes a month to sail from Capital Port to this area of the Earth Kingdom, so this scroll is probably the most recent Sota has in his possession) into his sash, and keeps his breath shallow to avoid giving his inner fire any more fuel.

Okay, he has the proof he needs, now he needs to get out of here and report to the Colonel. And quickly—the sun will rise in about two hours, and Zuko needs to be back in the Yuyan dorms before anyone realizes he’s gone.

Zuko has to use the ductwork to avoid the increasing patrols as the Stronghold wakes up. He takes a detour to Colonel Shinu’s office where he writes a brief outline of his findings and leaves it on the Colonel’s desk along with the stolen scroll. Almost as soon as he scrambles back into the vent, the Colonel himself enters the room. Zuko doesn’t wait around to see the man’s reaction.

He makes it back to the dorm with about ten minutes to spare. He’s so focused on trying to sneak back to his bunk without waking any of the light-sleeping Yuyan that he almost doesn’t notice the eyes boring into the back of his skull.

Almost. The hairs on the back of his neck raise, and he snaps around into an automatic firebending stance.

Commander Toshiaki raises a hairless eyebrow.

Zuko freezes in place.

The Commander smirks and silently strides out of the dorm.

Zuko shivers for a moment, then transforms himself back into sleep-rumpled teenager as fast as he can. He stuffs everything in his footlocker, yanks off his boots, and dives into his bunk as the gong signaling wake-up sounds.

A week later, Colonel Shinu orders an inspection of the entire Stronghold, and according to the base gossip chains, Minister Sota is caught with a box full of highly incriminating documents and a safe full of Fire Nation gold pieces. He, the documents, and the gold are put on a ship bound for the Fire Nation within the day.

Three months after Sota is shipped out, Zuko is called back to Colonel Shinu’s office and informed that Sota has been found guilty of embezzling from the Fire Nation Treasury. He had stolen the gold meant to be given to the surviving families of the lost 41st. The lost gold has been recovered, and Sota’s assets seized as well, and the survivors are scheduled to receive their payments by the spring equinox. Sota himself is banished to the colonies. Zuko’s not sure how he feels about that, but it’s not really any of his business, anymore, so he puts it out of his mind.

The Colonel congratulates Zuko on a job well done, and hands him a small but bulging money-sack. Payment, he says, for services rendered.

Zuko hides the sack in the deepest, darkest corner of his footlocker, and goes to hang out with the rhinos for a while.

Mission accomplished.

That is the third time.

Previous | Next

[mycatshuman]

Good Deeds

Pizza! Pizza!

Previous Chapter | Next | More Chapters | Masterlist

Word Count: 2,776

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety, Hinted Logicality

Warnings: Homelessness. Let me know if I missed any.

Thank you to @icequeenoriginal for beta reading.

-----

Virgil picked at his pizza as Roman and Thomas ate their own dinner happily. Thomas was eating a little too fast but Virgil couldn't exactly blame him. "You're really enjoying that pizza, aren't you?" Roman asked, amused as he noticed how fast Thomas was eating. Virgil bit his lip nervously and took a bite of pizza to try and seem normal as he pleaded that Roman didn't find Thomas's eating speed suspicious. 

Thomas paused to swallow a bite of the pizza. "Yeah, it's really good." 

Roman grinned. "I should hope so, this place has some of the best pizza I've ever tasted." Virgil carefully let the tension in his muscles relax a bit. It seemed as if the coast was clear. Roman bit off a bit of pizza as he side-eyed Virgil's piece and noticed he was still on his first piece. Maybe a bite or two taken out of it. Roman found himself worrying about these two yet again. Could Virgil have eating problems? Could he be allergic to something? Roman's eyes widened in utter horror. "You're not allergic to cheese or anything, are you?" He asked quickly. "I'm so sorry, I should have asked." 

Virgil blinked. "Uhh, no. I'm not allergic to anything." 

Roman let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank the stars. I was so worried when I noticed you'd hardly eaten anything and I realized I hadn't even thought to ask you if the pizza was okay."

"Oh.." Virgil trailed off and lifted up his unfinished slice of pizza and ripped off a big bite. He made a show of chewing before swallowing the food. "I think you're right. It's really good pizza." He smiled sheepishly at Roman as the other blinked before his face broke out it a wide grin. 

"I knew it!" He exclaimed. "You see, I have this friend who claims they've had pizza better than this and we always argue about it and I've never had anyone on my side before but now I've got the both of you on my side. In your face Logan!" 

Thomas giggled as he finished his slices of pizza before glancing behind him at the Pac man game set up in the corner of the room again. Roman raised an eyebrow as he peaked at what Thomas was looking at. "You know.." He started. "I have seen you eye that game a few times during dinner, do you want to play?" 

Thomas bit his lip. "Yeah..but we don't have money for games," he all but whispered, too nervous to upset his brother. He wasn't a stupid kid by no means and he knew his brother would feel horrible if he even hinted that he wanted more. Even worse would be his brother doing everything he could to get that more for Thomas and let himself go without something he needed just for Thomas's sake. 

"No, no," Roman started. "Fun stuff should be free. Let's go. I got some money." Roman got up and led Thomas over to the arcade game and set it up for him. While the two were gone, Virgil quickly scarfed down the rest of his first piece and half of his second piece of pizza before pausing to chew and swallow before Roman got back. 

Roman came back with a bright grin as he sat across from Virgil again. "He's a really cool kid," Roman commented. 

Virgil allowed himself a soft smile as he glanced back at his brother playing the arcade game. "Yeah. He really is."

"Why'd he eat so fast?" Roman chuckled. "You'd almost think he was starving." 

Virgil froze and quickly swallowed the lump in his throat. "Kids always seem to eat too fast. Always in a hurry to go play and such," he responded as calmly as he could. He couldn't have Roman getting any more suspicious. 

"Ah. Yeah, I can see why. Less food time, more time to play." 

Virgil laughed nervously. "Yeah." Virgil nibbled on his pizza as he began to feel uncomfortable. 

A song came on over the speakers and Roman's eyes lit up. "Oh! I love this song!"

Virgil snickered as he recognized the song. "Are you a Disney fan?" 

Roman nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! When I was little I used to sing all the songs and dance around like I was on stage! Then once I got into school, I auditioned for every musical and play. I finally started getting the lead in high school. It was so magical and enchanting." Roman sighed wistfully. "But it was simply not meant to be."

Virgil frowned. "Why?" 

Roman became suddenly quiet and shrugged. "Well, my father passed the company on to me and my mother wasn't too fond of my…' playing pretend'." 

Virgil's frown deepened. "Why didn't you follow your dreams? I mean, did you have to do what your parents expected you to do?" 

Roman paused. Did he? "I….I guess I was too scared to disappoint them." 

Virgil shook his head. "Is it really worth it being miserable to make them happy?"

"Miserable?" Roman asked. 

Virgil froze. "I-I'm sorry. I assumed you- I. Forget it," he mumbled. 

Roman bit his lip. "What about you? Did you always want to be a janitor?" 

Virgil sighed. "No. I uh.." He chuckled humorlessly. "I actually wanted to be a musician. Write some songs and post them to YouTube. Maybe make some money off of it. Maybe work at a local theatre as a techie or in the pit." 

Roman felt like this wasn't going to end well. "What happened?" 

Virgil bit his lip. Did he tell the other that he had to give up his free time to get a second job to take care of his brother and get away from their parents? He let out a huff and shook his head. The risk wasn't worth it. "I had to take care of my brother. I didn't have time for free time. I got a second job and took care of Thomas for the rest of the time." 

Roman stared at Virgil with something Virgil wasn't used to seeing directed at him. It wasn't pitiful like he was so accustomed to seeing on strangers who took in his clothes and adults who looked at him when he had gotten too much at the store and had to put something back. It was a look of empathy. It surprised Virgil. "So, why haven't you tried pursuing it again?" Roman asked cautiously. 

Virgil sighed and glanced back at Thomas to check on him. "I don't have the time," he answered simply. Roman frowned. "So," Virgil started as he looked down at the table shamefully. "Am I fired?" He asked. 

Roman blanched. "What?!? No! Of course not! I've never heard of you causing trouble before and it's not like you were stealing anything or destroying anything. You seem like a good worker, I'm not going to fire you over one little thing." 

Virgil let out a silent, relieved sigh. "Thank you." 

"And besides," Roman started cheekily. "Nobody has ever talked to me like that before. You park in my spot and call me an ass." Roman chuckled. "You made this a very interesting day." 

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "If that's true, it's sad." 

Roman frowned. "Sad? What's sad?" 

"That people never tell you the truth." 

Roman burst out laughing. "Oh, my stars. Oh, people tell me the truth, they're just not rude when they say it." 

Virgil snickered. "I beg to differ. I mean, correct me if I am wrong, but I don't think there's a nice of calling someone an ass." 

Roman tried to fight the smile that was breaking across his face but he decided to just let loose. It's not like his mom would know. Besides, this might have been the most he's laughed in a while, and he was damn well going to enjoy it while he could.

"So," Roman started once he got his laughing under control. "How long have you been working for the company?"

Virgil thought for a moment as he checked on Thomas. The younger brother happily playing the game with the change Roman had given him to do so. "Um, I'd say about two years now." 

"Oh," Roman said, an awkward silence now stretching between them. Roman wiped his palms on his slacks as they began to sweat. He hadn't felt this nervous talking to someone since high school. "So, what is it, exactly, that you do? What is Deeds Incorporated?" 

Roman let out a relieved breath as Virgil checked on Thomas again after his question. Finally, something he should be able to answer without looking stupid. "Well," he started. "My father was a whiz with computers. He came up with great software and sold it to the government. Top secret. Then, 20 years ago, he got it declassified and went public-" 

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Virgil started. "I'm not a genius so dumb it down for me. What do you sell?"

Roman grinned and laughed. "We sell computer software." 

Virgil let out a breath. "Okay! Thank you!" He exclaimed. 

Roman giggled as Thomas came over with a yawn.  "Vee," he started sleepily. "When's bedtime?" Roman felt his heart melt for the little guy as Virgil reached down and picked him up. 

"Soon, Tommy. Soon." Virgil stood and placed Thomas on his hip as he turned to Roman. "Thank you for the pizza. But you know I really should get back to my car. I don't know how my friend will react if he sees me with you." 

Roman frowned. "Is your friend normally this…" he paused, choosing his words carefully. "..possessive?"

Virgil's anxiety spiked as he realized how Roman took it. "No! It's just- he's my boyfriend,"

Roman's frown deepened as he pulled out a 20 to place on the table to pay for their meal. "I-" he started. He really didn't think it was safe for Virgil and Thomas if they didn't know how this "boyfriend" would react to seeing Virgil around another man. (Some part of Roman's mind filed away the fact that Virgil was gay as important information.) "Has your boyfriend ever been so...jealous to be violent?" 

An anxious air spilled out between them. Virgil winced. He really was in deep with this lie. Might as well dig even further. "Oh no! He just gets insecure and tries to make me jealous, that's all." Virgil laughed awkwardly. "You understand, don't you?" 

Roman bit his lip. He could see in some way. And he really didn't want to be pushy. But something just didn't sit right with him. However, he knew he couldn't do anything. The two had only just met and Virgil didn't seem like the type of person to trust someone he met hours before. “I understand," he answered. "I should be getting home anyway." He stood up beside Virgil who nodded his head. 

"Did you want me to get some of that?" Virgil asked as he glanced at the table. 

"Oh no!" Roman shook his head. "You're in the process of moving and that must have surely taken a lot out of your budget. I can handle it." 

The three left the pizza shop as Virgil half wished he could have taken some of the money Roman had left on the table but he knew he wouldn't be able to bring himself to do so. And really, he didn't have to eat. Thomas could eat what they have now, it would last longer and Virgil would be able to make sure he was healthy. Because that's all that really mattered was that Thomas was healthy. Virgil would live. It was fine. 

They walked in a fairly comfortable silence until they reached Virgil's car. "Thank you for the pizza. I know Thomas really enjoyed it," Virgil said as he opened the door and placed Thomas in his seat. 

Roman smiled softly. "Well, did you like it?" A part of his brain told him he shouldn't be flirting but another part of his brain couldn't help himself. 

Virgil flushed slightly as he took in Roman's fairly handsome face with an expression that made him soft. "Yes, thank you." 

Roman grinned before he handed Virgil some money. "Here, as a thank you for spending some time with me." He chuckled awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I live alone and it gets to me sometimes," more like all of the time. "It was nice to spend time with someone instead of going back to my apartment alone. And I just wanted to thank you for your time." He blushed as he tried to keep his eyes to the ground while he held out the money to Virgil. 

Virgil's eyes widened and began shaking his hands. "Oh no! It's okay. It was...nice." Virgil was well aware that he needed the money. Very well aware. But something stopped him. And he knew that he would feel incredibly guilty if he took the money. 

Roman's head shot up. "Oh please! I insist!" 

Virgil shook his head. "No. I really don't think I should." 

Roman huffed. "Well..fine.." He deflated so much that Virgil almost considered taking the money only if for a smile to spread across the other’s kind face. "Is it okay if I say goodbye to Thomas?" Roman asked sweetly. "I know its weird, but I almost feel like he's my own brother. You've really got a good brother here." Roman grinned slyly. "And his brother isn't so bad looking." 

Virgil blinked as he tried to process. A blush spreading like a wildfire across his pale face. "I-" 

Roman shook his head. "No, it's okay, I know you have a boyfriend. Just thought you needed to know." 

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. You can say goodbye to Thomas. 

Roman smiled happily and kneeled on the floor of the car. "Hey, Prince Thomas!" He exclaimed. 

"Prince Roman!" Thomas grinned.

Roman chuckled. "It was really nice meeting you. You'll have to tell your brother to bring you by sometime, how does that sound?" 

Thomas's face lit up joyfully. "Yes!" He giggled. 

Roman internally awed at the adorableness he had the good fortune of witnessing. He lowered his voice. "Alright, do you think you're up for a quest?" He asked. 

Thomas's eyes blew wide. "Yes!" He whispered just as excitedly. Virgil allowed a soft fond smile spread across his lips as he watched the two interact. 

Roman grinned. "Perfect." He held up the money and handed it gently to Thomas. "Do you think you are up for the challenge of giving this to your brother once I leave?" 

Thomas stared at the money in his hand. He wasn't stupid. He knew Virgil needed this. He knew they needed this. "Yes, I can!" Thomas answered as his face twisted into one of determination. 

Roman giggled. "You will do well, young prince. Farewell!" Roman exclaimed as he climbed out of the car. "May our paths meet again someday soon!" 

Thomas dissolved into a fit of giggles as Virgil rolled his eyes and shut the car door. "Thank you again," he said as he turned around and went to get in the driver's seat. 

Roman smiled. "You're welcome." He bit his lip. "I-if it's okay, maybe we could hang out some?"

Virgil paused. Thinking it over he decided there was no harm in agreeing. He made Thomas happy. And that's all that mattered. "Sure” he answered. 

Roman grinned. "Yay! Alright, I'll see you around." Roman walked across the road and climbed into his car. He took one last glance at Virgil and Thomas before pulling off. A smile played at his lips. Today was a nice day. 

-----

Virgil watched as Roman pulled off. "That man is very persistent." He climbed out of the car and walked around to open Thomas's door and pulling the gas can out. "Come on Thomas. Let’s go get gas." 

"Virgil," Thomas started. 

The older brother stopped and turned back to Thomas, scared that he was hurt. "What is it?" 

Thomas held his hand, the one hundred dollar bill sitting neatly in his palm. "Prince Roman sent me on a quest to give this to you once he left." 

Virgil blinked. "That smooth motherfu-" he stopped. He reached forward and took the money the other held out to him. That man sure is something. He thought to himself. "You did a wonderful job completing your quest, Prince Thomas," he exclaimed as he ruffled the others' hair. Thomas smiled brightly and the two were off on their journey to the gas station. Virgil thought about the money in his pocket and a blush rose upon his cheeks. 

------

Taglist: @urielthealienboio @midnight-personal @supreme-overlord-bubbles @dn-fan21 @soul-of-a-vixen @mellow-yellow-nutella @anxious-but-trying-my-best @sanders-sides-rebloger @kool-bi-69 @ghosttb0y @thevirgilantone @prismartist @shamelesslypoetic @icequeenoriginal

Everything taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws

[dayasbun]

Fame - Angus Cloud (4)

Summary- a luckily timed audition leads to you falling for your new and unexpected co-star.

Warnings- okay HI welcome to my first multi chapter series woah?! this is actually so exciting for me like wow especially since angus doesn’t have any fics yet im just really really excited- so warnings! smut for sure, bad words, lotsa fluff, angst- everything in one basically. here comes a ride and I hope you enjoy :)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 {reading now}

-

“Fuck right there- Oh my god please-” You moaned holding his hair. “You never had anyone eat your pussy like this before right?” he said eating deeper as you moaned and squirmed. “Only you baby, this pussy is only you-”

“Yo wake the fuck up, you making weird noises and shit.”

You sat up taking in a deep breath and inspected your surroundings. There stood a worried Angus with a mug in his hand. “I'm fine...” you said quite unconvincingly.

“You sure? I went to make you some tea and came back to you rolling around and groaning and shit, thought that strange netflix monster had come to you or sum.”

“The demogorgan-”

“Yeah that shit!” He sat next to you on the edge of the bed. “Nightmare?” he asked softly as he handed you the tea.

“Well not exactly...” You took the warm mug and took in a long swig of the warm goodness. It's not like you were just going to openly tell him ‘Oh no, I just had a dream about you eating me out and I loved every second of it.’ “Actually yeah, a nightmare.” you lied.

“I hate those, what was yours about?”

“I...a monster ate me alive and I couldn't stop it.”

Angus shook his head. “Damn mamas, I’m sorry. Those suck, I know its like 2 pm, but let’s eat some breakfast and try to forget about it.”

You nodded standing up and stretching “Thanks...for the tea.”

“Of course, don’t girls love tea? Ion know, I don't really be sleeping with girls that often.” He chuckled walking into the small kitchen.

“Tea is amazing!” You exclaimed, following him and sitting on the counter. “I love tea in all seasons, it has so many benefits.”

“Yeah? What’s some of them benefits.”

“Well green tea has amazing antioxidants, and is a more naturally caffeinated drink than coffee- with not as many negative results. But don't get me wrong, I really do love my coffee- anyway! Tea can help straighten and strengthen bones, brighten your smile, and help you lose weight!!”

“Oh wow.” He laughed “I didn't even care about all that tea shit, just wanted to hear your voice. But it was actually kinda interesting.”

“Yeah- and don't worry about a lack of my voice, I never shut up.”

“You right about that; but before you get all defensive, its aight. I like hearing you blab off about random stuff ion care about.”

You felt your face grow hot as you stifled a giggle that wanted to come out. “Thank you. I think I talk too much, but hey, can't really stop it y’know?” Angus nodded as he cracked 5 eggs into a pan. “You just be going off about stuff- actually you was sleep talking a little bit.”

Fuck.

“Yeah? What was I saying?” you asked innocently, hoping he didn't say what he was most definitely about to say.

“Well it was when you had that nightmare. Was the monster a cow or sum? Cuz you kept saying ‘Angus’ so like.” He turned to look at you “I figure it wasn’t me, but it was probably like...some beef monster.”

“Oh yeah, for sure a beef monster.”

“And that beef monster was eating you huh?”

You smoothly tucked your hair behind your ear and nodded with a sweet smile “Mhm.”

Angus gave you a quick up and down look before turning around and continuing to scramble the eggs. You had to change the current topic or you'd die of embarrassment, so you decided to bring up the topic of the show instead. “Do you know which scenes we’re filming tomorrow?”

“Yeah, no sex scenes until next week. Tomorrow they finna do you coming back and me reminiscing on the old times.”

“Okay cool. I have those lines down, pretty simple...” You mumbled.

“Yeah me too.”

A butcher knife couldn't even cut the tension in the room right now. Fuck, a chainsaw couldn't either.

“So like... I’m gonna go change and I'll be right back? Sound good?”

“You can wear summa my stuff. If you want- you don’t got to i'm just offering.”

“Oh that'd be great thanks! You know my trailer is just so far away!” You joked, knowing that it was only next door. You hopped off of the counter and followed him back into the room you two had just come out of.

“You just want one big shirt? Girls be doing that alot nowadays.”

“Yeah, thanks that'd be great...”

“So the biggest shirt I got got some barbecue stains on it- ignore it. I just went off on some spicy wings the other day-”

You burst out laughing and sat on the bed “Gus it’s fine, gimme!” You pulled your shirt off and held out your hands. He turned back around to find you only in your bra and shorts.

“Yooooo-”

“Its fine, we have to be completely naked with each other next week. Titties are just titties.” You took the shirt out of his hands and put it on. After pulling off the shorts that you wore underneath the shirt; that was more like a dress- and folding them, you walked back into the kitchen and reclaimed your spot on the counter.

“Well I know one problem we won't have!” You stated with a smirk.

“Yeah, and what's that?”

“Drake was worried you wouldn't be able to ‘get it up’...but honestly, I don’t think it'll be too hard.”

“Why you think that?”

“Look down.”

Sure, Angus wouldn't let you live down the wet dream you had about him for quite a while, but you'd never let him live down the boner he got- just from seeing you in a bra.

+

“So. Let's get to the real real.” Storm said pulling her knees up to her chest with a grin. “What the hell is going on with you and Angus?”

You, Storm and Daya were hanging in your trailer. You three were the only girls that didn't have scenes to film right now, Alexia, Barbie and the rest of the female cast were shooting night scenes. They had helped you set up the place to seem more homey, and now the newly formed trio you were a part of was in your bed with microwave popcorn, juicy juice, and twizzlers.

“Nothing Storm! Actually nothing I-”

“Nope, don't do that.” Z quickly cut you off. “Everyone can see it, it’s like what everyone on set talks about.”

“What?-”

“Plus, he talks about you too much, and you do the same with him! Earlier I said I wanted to pop some microwave popcorn and you started telling me about some conspiracy he told you about popcorn and microwaves, how they’re a secret way in for the government- like girl! Don't tell me you're so whipped that you're out here believing this stuff!”

“OKAY! Okay! I get it...look Gus is-”

“Gus?! You call him Gus?”

“Yeah?-”

“He literally hates that nickname with a passion. He gotta love you.” Storm chuckled grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“Okay well Angus is cute. He’s sweet and funny and caring- BUT. I won’t let anything happen between us, it’s like...business. This field is acting- and I don't think it would be good for us to do anything more, especially during filming.”

Z sighed. “Falling for your costars is weird.”

“Yeah.” Storm chimed in. “Our girl Daya been there and done that...but it never really affected her acting. She's so talented that she could keep it hidden off screen and focus on her character. I mean I know you talented Y/N...but you not my big sis like Z, so I don't really know how you'd be able to deal with it yet. Drake already seemed a bit iffy about it because he could tell you two had a little something going, but the thing comforting him is y'all are talented. So he knows you can do it- I know you can too.”

“Yeah he sent us a letter about it...it's just hard. I can't lose this role, I've come so far.”

“I don't think you’ll lose it. I think you'll be fine. Just keep a business mindset when on set. What goes on off screen and behind closed doors is your business, girl. Drake or nobody can stop that- Jesus can't even stop that!”

You and Storm giggled at Zendaya’s last comment. “Yeah yeah yeah...okay I get it guys. I got this- period.”

“Period.”

“Period...So were you one of those girls that watched all the Fez scene compilations on Youtube and drooled?” Storm teased you.

“No!” You said firmly, knowing you were lying.

“Oh she definitely was.”

“I wasn't!”

“I just don't see it! Angus is just not attractive to me, he looks like one of those guys that stop you at the gas station with a ghetto ass group of friends- he rubs his hands together and then screams ‘Hey baby lemme get yo numbaaaa!!!!’“

In response, you practically fell over laughing “Stoppp no!”

The rest of the night was filled with giggles and whispers, and by 1 AM, you, Z, and Storm were all huddled up in your little twin trailer bed. They snored softly but you couldn't seem to sleep. Just as you were .1 seconds away from drifting off, your phone buzzed next to you.

Angus☁️: u uppppp

-oh wow yeah that's not the most fboy thing ever to send at 1:27 am

Angus☁️:  see all you had to say was yes you didn't have to do allat

-can i help you mr cloud

Angus☁️: what typa help you offering?

-whatever help you need.

Angus☁️: you finna have some more beef dreams tonight?

-you finna get a boner if you see me in my bra again?

Angus☁️: maybe.

-then i'll say maybe too.

Angus☁️: you're too much

-i know i am, did you film today?

Angus☁️: ye i had some scenes wit jacob

-wit

Angus☁️: leave me alone

-you texted me

-and wow you sound really mature rn not at all like a five year old

Angus☁️: if i was w you rn id make you regret that

-was that supposed to be a threat or a way to try to make me sext

Angus☁️: both

-you should go text all the hoes you have waiting for you at home

Angus☁️: im texting them at the same time

-boy...

Angus☁️: im plAyin

Angus☁️: only you :)

-getting soft???

Angus☁️: no and i wish this was instagram dms so i could unsend it fuck

-fuck

Angus☁️: thats another thing you was saying during your ‘nightmare’

-STOP NO I WAS NOT

Angus☁️: yeah i know you wasnt lmao i just like messing w you

-you can mess w me whenever you want to

Angus☁️: oh bet????

-goodnight angus

Angus☁️: nah i want you to tell me about me messing w you

Angus☁️: damn you really left

Angus☁️: thats wrong 

Angus☁️: doing me dirty

-GTS MY PHONE KEEPS GOING OFF

Angus☁️: then put it on silent?

-NO

Angus☁️: ill stop being annoying if you come over here

-i cant, im w z and storm too

Angus☁️: shit okay well it was worth a shot

-why, what was you planning to do

Angus☁️: cuddle

-its fr time for you to go bed, i think your sleepiness is making you too soft and taking the hood away

Angus☁️: goodnight

-goodnight

Angus☁️: gn

-gn

Angus☁️: night

-night

Angus☁️: GOODNIGHT

-OKAY GN

Angus☁️: STOP REPLYING

Angus☁️: night

-

taglist:

@nikkixostan @melaninmarvel @celiajrs @siriuslycollins

[admiralty-xfd]

Reduced Vision

(What really happened in that auditor’s office in Requiem?)

The morning sunlight streams in through the slats of his blinds, blanketing the bedroom in a golden sheen. It’s new, different. He swears the light has never been quite like this before. This room symbolized loneliness for so long it’s almost jarring having someone else here. 

Having her here.

She’s on her side, asleep, facing him, wearing one of his old college T shirts. He watches the visible planes of her body rise and fall in contentment. He loves to watch her sleep. In these precious moments she is safe from all harm; she is completely at peace. 

She’s told him on multiple occasions over the past few weeks she is happy, and in these quiet moments he can almost believe her. 

Will she still be happy after they shut down the X Files? Will she stay with him after they’re split apart once again?

Her eyelids twitch as she stirs, the corner of her mouth twisting into evidence of some pleasant dream. He hopes she’s dreaming about him. After a minute her eyes open, eyelids heavy. He swears the blue of her eyes is a different hue when she awakens.

“Mulder, are you watching me sleep?”

He nods, smiles. “Guilty.”

She mmmmms and pulls him to her by the back of his neck, as if every second spent awake and not kissing him is a waste. He kisses her back because if she’s thinking that, she’s not wrong. 

He tugs on the bottom of the T shirt she’s wearing, his fingers dipping beneath it. She’s got nothing on underneath. “Christ, Scully,” he groans against her mouth. 

How the fuck did this happen? How is any of this real? How did he get so goddamn lucky?

“Easy, there,” she says sleepily, putting her hand over his. “I’m still waking up.”

“Tease.”

He moves a strand of hair out of her face. He must look thoughtful because she cocks her head in question. “You okay?”

“Yeah… sorry. Just nervous about the audit this week.” 

“I know, me too,” she confesses. “But Skinner said it’s purely budgetary.” 

“I’m not sure why they’re coming after us,” he says. “We don’t spend an unusual amount of money in the field, do we?”

“Maybe we should start sharing motel rooms,” she grins. 

“I don’t have any objections to that,” he says. “You’re the one with all the rules.” They’ve broken their fraternization rules before, a few times. Rules were made to be broken, he figures.

“It’s nice waking up with you,” she says quietly after a moment. 

“It’s nice having you here.” He wraps his arms around her and brings her body close to his, kissing the top of her head. Her hair smells so good: like some fancy product she only uses for special occasions. He smiles, remembering the night before.

“I had fun last night,” she says, as if reading his mind. They’d attended an FBI gala together, not the first time they’d done so but certainly the first time they’d done so as a couple. Or as… whatever they are. He still isn’t quite sure.

“Me too.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Really? Or are you just saying that?” He hates work social functions, and she knows it.

“I really did,” he insists. “Although I don’t know why they had it on a Sunday. I don’t really want to go to work today.”

She smiles, twirling her fingers at his nape. “Then let’s not.”

“Not go to work?” He tilts his head, as if the mere suggestion is abhorrent.

“Why not?” she asks. “When’s the last time you took a personal day, Mulder?”

He searches his memory. “Um. 1997?”

“You’ve earned it,” she says. “We both have. Let’s just stay here. In bed. All day.”

He grins, because as worried as he is about so many things, nothing sounds better than spending an entire day in bed with Scully.

“Okay. I can do that.” He interlaces their fingers together, pulls them up to his lips. “Skinner’s gonna be suspicious when neither of us show up today, though. Especially after last night.”

She looks at him. “Do you think he knows?”

“Scully, I’m pretty sure everyone knows,” he admits. They’d been actively hiding their affection for each other all evening but it hadn’t stuck. It had been difficult for them to pretend things were the same as they’d always been. He isn’t typically a betting man but odds are that the jig is officially up.

She’s quiet for a moment. It concerns him. “Is… that okay?”

She holds him tighter and her fingers trail across his back. “It’s fine. No, it’s fine.”

So much is uncertain about their future: the status of the X Files, the status of their partnership. Not to mention the status of his own health that she knows nothing about. The idea of their peers knowing their romantic status feels relatively unimportant. But maybe it isn’t to her.

“It’s different for you, Mulder,” she says, answering his unspoken question. 

“What do you mean?”

She sighs. “Men can do this sort of thing and get away with it. It’s not a big deal for you to sleep with someone you work with.” She doesn’t bring up Diana, which he’s grateful for. “But for a woman…” she trails off.

“Scully, we spend practically every waking minute with each other anyway. No one would think less of you if they knew we were… canoodling.” He grins. “Are you really worried about that?” He knows he’s overcompensating. But he’s only doing it because he’s worried too. What he’s worried about is that any day now she’ll come to her senses and put a stop to this new arrangement.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve really wondered.” He waits for her to continue. “There are men, you know, who feel… entitled. To women.”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Do you mean…”

“Not you,” she reassures. “Never you.” He breathes a sigh of relief. “For god’s sake, Mulder, it took you seven years to kiss me. The last descriptor I’d use for you is ‘entitled.’”

“But…?” he presses.

“But, there are men who feel this way. Like they are due something from women. And women who become known for sleeping with their coworkers…” 

“Coworker, Scully? Is that all I am to you? Some piece of meat?” He pouts and she punches him playfully.

“To me, you’re not. To me you’re… so many things.” She traces the curve of his jaw with her index finger. They haven’t said the words yet. But he feels them now, beneath the surface. Waiting silently. “But to people on the outside, you can see how this might look.”

He’d never really considered this particular aspect of taking the plunge with regard to their relationship. Maybe he never thought Scully would care what others thought, because he certainly doesn’t. But perhaps she has to care. 

Yet again, he’s forced to consider all the ways in which Scully’s career at the FBI is unfairly disadvantaged. He wonders if she’s been subconsciously avoiding intimacy with him all these years in part, at least, for this reason.

“I don’t want to be just some guy you’re sleeping with at work who makes you feel that way,” he says gently. “I don’t want this to be something that concerns you.”

“Mulder, you are anything but just some guy.” She hooks her leg over his hip and he tilts her face to look at her. She’s so fucking beautiful it nearly takes his breath away. “You make me happier than I’ve ever been, okay?” she assures him. “These past few weeks have been incredible. No regrets.”

He exhales a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as she leans forward to kiss him. He takes the opportunity to taste her, to really enjoy and savor having this perfect woman here in his bed, and like he does so often lately, wonders how he went so many years by her side without pressing his lips to hers.

Especially since a day doesn’t go by when he suspects it might be their last, for any number of reasons.

She pulls back, smiling. “Just forget about it, okay?”

He nods, and decides he will forget, just for today. Today will be about them. It will be perfect. 

***

Tomorrow he remembers again, and he is reminded in a most unwelcome way.

A stack of expense reports had been plopped down in front of him earlier this morning, and he’d been given the third degree by Agent Short, the auditor apparently responsible for shutting down the X Files.

“We could start sharing rooms,” Mulder had half-joked. But the look on Short’s face had been anything but amused.

After the initial evaluation, Mulder is called back into Short’s office. 

“If you spend so much time and money looking for aliens, responsibly you should narrow your search,” Agent Short smarms. Mulder now recognizes him as one of Kersh’s lackeys. He and Scully have been chewed out in that office enough to notice him there multiple times, lurking in the background.

“To where?” Mulder asks, sarcastically.

“Wherever they are,” is his ridiculous answer. “It's not unreasonable. It's just a matter of reducing your vision.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my vision,” Mulder says, gritting his teeth. “Or Agent Scully’s. In fact, I believe the scope of our vision is exactly the reason the FBI has an X Files unit to begin with.”

“The future of the unit remains undetermined, Agent Mulder,” Short counters. “I for one will not sit idly by while Mr. and Mrs. Spooky go joyriding around the country chasing aliens on the government’s dime.”

Mulder blinks. “What?”

“You heard me,” the stupid little man says, adjusting his stupid little glasses. Mulder realizes in this moment that Scully’s concerns weren’t unfounded in the slightest. Mr. and Mrs. Spooky? 

“Agent Scully is my partner,” he says sternly. 

Short chuckles. “Sure, okay. Don’t think I haven’t heard all the rumors.”

Maybe his joke to Short about sharing their motel rooms had been ill-advised. “What rumors?”

The auditor’s eyebrow goes up. Mulder hates that look on anyone other than Scully.

“Please. Everyone knows. We all saw you two at the gala.”

Mulder blinks again, the memory of holding Scully close - closer than two work partners should dance - still so fresh. He thought they’d been careful but it was difficult to hide his feelings for her, even from peers that probably assumed they’d been sleeping together for much longer than they actually have been.

“Whatever you think you saw, I’m pretty sure it’s none of your business,” Mulder challenges.

His non-denial seems to set the other man off. He scoffs, sizing Mulder up. “I should’ve known.”

“Known what?” Mulder leans forward, hands clenching his knees. His minor annoyance is ratcheting up into anger.

“Nothing,” Short shrugs. “It just doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. She seems like the type. ”

What was anger a second ago is now barely restrained rage. “And what type would that be?”

Agent Short looks at him with the same disdain he’d reserved for aliens mere minutes ago. “You know. The type who would sleep with anyone to get ahead.”

The ridiculous implication that sleeping with Fox “Spooky” Mulder would get Scully anything but derisive laughter notwithstanding, his anger does not abate. It increases a hundredfold.

The anger that rises up within him isn’t about protecting Scully’s reputation. It isn’t about his own ego either. What Mulder feels inside him now is animal rage: boiling up inside him, absolutely primal. It’s cause and effect; a reaction, pure and simple, that has somehow found its way from his brain to his gut to his fist.

And suddenly that fist is flying, cutting the stale air of the auditor’s office and smashing directly into the man’s face. 

Short goes down, off his chair, with a thud. For a minute he looks up at Mulder in absolute shock, as if this was the last thing he expected: that the audacity of this punch is more appalling than anything he’d just implied about Scully. And Mulder barely has the time to process anything before he is upon him, punching him over and over again.

Short puts his arms in front of his face as Mulder hits him four, five times. Suddenly he is being pulled backwards by large strong hands that surround his biceps in a death grip.

“Mulder!” 

He hears Skinner’s gruff voice and briefly sees blood trickling out of the smaller man’s nostrils.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” Skinner growls into his ear, pulling him back. Mulder turns his head and everything moves almost in slow motion, as a look of utter confusion crosses his boss’s face. Agent Short groans from the floor, seemingly unable to move. 

Fuck.

The X Files are already being targeted and now this? What if it’s truly all over now, in spite of the audits, in spite of everything else?

“What the hell were you thinking, Mulder?” Skinner hisses. All Mulder can do is explain. The truth. He reaches for the truth.

“He said… about Scully,” he pants. “I just reacted, sir. He all but called her a slut, right to my face.”

Skinner’s anger shifts gears more rapidly than Mulder has ever seen it, and he’s been present for Skinner’s mood shifts far more often than he’d like. His boss’s eyes flash as he stares daggers into the whimpering agent on the floor. He lets go of Mulder and crosses the room in two strides, bending down and picking the other agent up by his collar.

“Please… stop!” the scrawny man says. But Skinner doesn’t stop. He shoves the man backwards against a file cabinet and his glasses slide off his nose, along with a huge stack of expense reports.

“What exactly did he say, Mulder?” Skinner asks. Short’s hands go to his throat as he gasps for air.

“He said she was the type… to sleep around to get ahead,” Mulder says, still catching his breath. Skinner’s eyes bulge in anger. “And... I lost it. I’m sorry.”

“No, Mulder,” Skinner said, returning his glare to the smaller agent. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to lose it first.” He holds the man firmly and then slams him against the cabinets again, hard. With his other hand he slaps Short across the face. “It’s a real shame you fell down that flight of stairs on your way into work this morning, isn’t it, Agent Short?”

Short can only whimper.

“Isn’t it?!” Skinner slaps him again, hard.

Short nods, as well as he’s able. Skinner nods back. “If I hear another word about this kind of talk regarding Agent Scully, or any of your female peers for that matter, I’ll have your ass thrown out of the Bureau so fast it’ll make your head spin,” he barks. “You got it?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” the man sputters. Skinner releases him and he scampers away down the hall towards the bathroom.

Mulder has finally calmed down and for a brief moment hopes he and his boss might share some common ground. He’s well aware that Skinner has a soft spot for Scully and would never have risked his own job for anyone else that way. But Skinner’s features harden, back to business.

“You’re on thin ice, Mulder,” he said. “That was for Agent Scully, not you. The X Files are already in trouble. I’m doing everything I can to keep you two afloat.”

Mulder grimaces, knowing his last chances are dwindling one by one. He’s grateful for his boss’s discretion, in any event. 

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

***

“Again.”

The single word escapes her lips, raspy, raw. His chest is glistening with sweat, rising and falling as he breathes heavily. 

Rolling over until she’s on top of him, she leans down and her hair falls into his face. It isn’t five o’ clock, not yet, but the shadow of stubble across his jaw has never looked sexier. 

He squeezes the flesh of her ass and gives it a light slap. “Already?”

She nods. She isn’t fucking around. She promised they’d stay in bed all day and she intends to keep her promise. 

“Yes. Again.”

***

Scully had known once she started sleeping with Mulder things would change. It’s one of the reasons- whether consciously or unconsciously- she’s avoided taking this step with him for so long.

She can’t seem to focus on work the same way she used to, probably having something to do with being around Mulder all day, every day. The sight of him, the smell of him. Thinking about what they did last night, fantasizing about what they’ll do tonight.

And tomorrow. All she wants now are more and more tomorrows with Mulder. 

Things have been slowing down for them on the work front, finally. An end to the X Files wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, she has to admit. Things feel like they’re finally falling into place for the two of them. Maybe finding some new direction will be a blessing. 

What would Fox Mulder be like without the X Files? She’s never had a reason to wonder. But now she does wonder, constantly. What would he be like if she were the only obsession in his life?

She is jerked out of her reverie as she hears him behind her.

“I think I'm in big trouble.”

She spins as he enters the office, smirking a bit guiltily. He’s probably talking about the audit, so she tries to put his at ease.

“How many times have they tried to shut us down?” she reminds him. To be honest, she isn’t sure how much she believes her own reassurances. But keeping Mulder grounded is always her default position.

“Yeah, but I never actually assaulted an auditor before.”

Something about Mulder getting violent does something to her, always has. She feels an involuntary twitch between her thighs. An uncoiling, a burning. A slow smile spreads across her face. “Did you hurt him?” she asks hopefully. 

Agent Short hit on her at the gala and when she’d rebuffed him he’d given her a look. Scully hates that look, but unfortunately knows it all too well. 

Agent Short is a fucking asshole.

“I reduced his vision a little bit,” Mulder admits. His hand goes to his head and he winces. She wonders if Short actually fought back for a moment but quickly realizes… no. This is something else. This is that headache thing that’s going on with Mulder lately he refuses to be concerned about.

She’s about to ask him about it- again- when the phone rings. 

Billy Miles, Bellefleur, Oregon. It feels like 1992 all over again, only this time she and Mulder are completely different. This time Mulder made her come last night. Twice.

“More alien abductions, Scully,” he grins, with the same eager grin he gave her in this very office eight years ago. She smiles back, remembering.

Do you believe in extraterrestrials?

She doesn’t know, still. But she does believe a trip down memory lane with the newly-added benefits of their partnership sounds appealing. So appealing she isn’t sure how she’ll make it out of the office without tearing his clothes off.

“Mmm,” she replies. “I don't know how we could possibly justify the expense.”

“We'd probably turn up nothing,” he grins, heading toward the door.

“Let's go waste some money.”

As they walk towards the elevator her curiosity gets the better of her. “What exactly pushed you over the edge, Mulder?”

“Hmm?”

“Agent Short. What did he say to you?”

He shrugs, reaching out to push the elevator button. “Oh, nothing. He’s just got one of those really punchable faces.”

She can tell when he’s lying. Well, most of the time. She stops and turns to face him. “Mulder.”

“What?”

“The X Files are on the line. You hit someone responsible for deciding. Tell me why.”

He opens his mouth in protest but her eyebrow goes up and he backs off. She rarely presses him, so she takes this as a tiny personal victory.

“He said… something about you. Something I didn’t like.”

She furrows her brow. “What did he say, Mulder?” Her tone is the type she knows he won’t ignore. 

He sighs. “He mentioned seeing us at the gala, and that... you were the type... to sleep around. To enhance your career.”

She purses her lips. “Huh.”

“I’m sorry I doubted what you were saying the other morning, Scully. It appears you were completely justified.”

“So he said this about me and then… you hit him?”

Mulder nods.

“In the face?”

Mulder nods.

“Once?”

“More than once.”

She smiles. “He hit on me, you know. At the gala.”

Mulder nods thoughtfully. “It’s all making sense now. And it’s a good thing, too, because I was feeling a little bad about it.”

She shakes her head slowly. “Don’t feel bad. He’s like the villain in some adventure movie, and you defeated him.”

“And I got the girl,” he adds, eyebrows lifting.

The elevator arrives and as she steps inside, thoughts of Agent Short’s apparent revenge for her rejection are pushed to the back of her mind and an image of Mulder defending her honor is suddenly all she sees. 

Dana Katherine Scully has never been a woman unable to fight her own battles. And in the past, Mulder’s tendency to be a bit overprotective has been frustrating at best, downright irritating at worst.

But right now, it’s neither. 

As he moves to push the button she feels his other hand graze lightly over the small of her back and suddenly, inexplicably, she stops caring about her rules. 

The elevator doors close and she backs him up against the wall, bringing her face close to his. Her lips curve into a smile and she takes his tie into her hand, tugging it. The heat between her legs is back. 

He grins as she pulls his tie towards her, stealing a kiss that any movie hero might deserve in the final act. There are certainly surveillance cameras pointed at them right now but she doesn’t care.

“That’s really sexy, Mulder,” she breathes as she tilts her head back, allowing him access to her neck. 

“What is, me defending your virtue?” he growls against her skin. 

“My virtue?” she asks as his hand creeps underneath her skirt. “What is this, the nineteenth century?”

“No. You���re an extremely modern woman.”

“Yesterday in bed you called me a tease,” she grins as his lips travel down her neck. Lately she’s been leaving her shirts more unbuttoned than usual, but he unbuttons one more. 

“Well I was obviously kidding,” he says as his head disappears between her lapels. “As it turns out you’re incredibly easy.”

“Mulder… this isn’t a good idea…” she breathes, realizing too late it was she who got him going in the first place, but simultaneously not caring. He spins her around so her back is to the wall of the elevator and she tilts her head back in ecstasy, his own cradled between her arms, obscured between her breasts.

And it’s in this exact position they are revealed as the elevator doors open to the shocked and disgruntled Agent Short himself. Scully hisses “Mulder!” into his ear and Mulder stands upright, blocking the other agent’s view of her exposed chest.

Scully peeks around him to see the man standing there gaping, his face hideously bruised, and before she can think of anything to say Mulder does it for them all.

“Wow, that looks pretty bad, Agent Short,” Mulder says as Scully furiously buttons up her shirt. “What happened to you?”

“Uh, I…” Short stammers. “I fell down the stairs.”

“Better get some ice on that,” Scully says as she brushes past him, taking Mulder’s hand. “I hear those government health plans are expensive.”

They walk through the lobby hand in hand, as it suddenly occurs to her all this hiding is exhausting. Mulder turns towards her and she notices for the first time his mouth is smeared with her lipstick. 

“Well, Scully,” he says, seemingly unconcerned with the watchful stares of the agents around them, “for a man who wanted us to reduce our vision, he certainly got an eyeful.”

[aka-willow]

Nightfall

gif

Words: 1707

Characters: Willow Wren, Kate Gray

Prompt/Tag:

“We’re done.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Summary: Willow busts ex-Hydra scientist Victor Volkov

Timeline: September 2015

Song: Nightfall - Josep Alba

A/N: in terms of an investigation this is like the most slow burn thing ever but idc you think Hydra’s gonna let her find answers this easily? wrong!!! also she’s being reckless and stupid as fuck soooooo shit winds are a-comin’

—————————————————————————–

I didn’t mean to engage with any more ex-Facility scientists for the time being, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how many more were out there, especially when one pinged my news notifications I had set up for the names I was tracking.

Victor Volkov. In NYC for a conference. Staying at a Hilton. One of the fancy ones, with a view of Times Square.

I say I didn’t mean to engage, but I know I did, especially when I packed my face paint and mask in my backpack before school that morning, and slipped a knife into a pocket of my jeans. Just in case, I had told myself. Just in case.

I hung out after school with Kate that Friday, spending the afternoon at tryouts for the MSST musical production of Heathers. As much as I wanted to be on the stage, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that. The costume situation alone would be a nightmare. So, I signed up as a stagehand and watched Kate try out. She wasn’t hoping for any particular role, she just wanted to be in the ensemble. While Kate waited for general auditions, I sat in the auditorium seating, reading up on Victor Volkov on my phone.

I shouldn’t be doing this, I thought. I should just… ignore this for now. I said I wouldn’t do anything else crazy for a while. But it was like an itch I needed to scratch, I could hardly think of anything else, knowing that he was in the city. While Kate sat on the stage, waiting for her turn, I silently pulled out my laptop and started sifting through all the documents I had related to Volkov. I placed them all into a folder and uploaded it to a file share online, ready to be leaked when I was ready to confront him. Kate finally got her turn and I listened to her sing, my leg bouncing as I sat, thinking about my next move.

“You did great!” I said to Kate as she jumped down off the stage at the end of the auditions. “You’ll definitely get in. I didn’t know you sang!”

“Mostly just when I’m home alone,” Kate laughed. “Wanna go get food or something on the way home?”

“Ah, I would,” I said. “But I gotta get home and finish an assignment due at midnight. Maybe tomorrow afternoon we can get lunch with the gang?”

“Works for me,” Kate said, shrugging. “I’ll text the chat!”

We parted ways and I checked the subway map for the fastest route to the Hilton that Volkov was staying at. How do I plan to do this? You have to be so, so careful. One wrong move and this whole Rat Revolution is finished. I pulled up a picture of the scientist, memorizing his face as I rode the subway and then tried to figure out the best way to get his room number without raising suspicion. What if he’s not in the room? What if he is? Crap, I really should have planned this out more. I could call room service and get something delivered to his room and left outside. That’s not such a bad idea. Except what if my call is traced? Would they trace it? No one would care, right? Because twenty minutes later a neo-Nazi gets arrested.

As I stood outside the hotel, I realized that the inside was packed with people. Most people were just arriving for the conference. Wait a minute.

I stepped inside and held my phone up to my ear as I walked closer to the front desk, finally taking the chair next to it. “Yeah, dad,” I said into my phone. “Text me when you’re on your way. I’m waiting to check-in. Okay.” The lady at the front desk hardly glanced at me as I gave her a smile and pretended to end the call. “He should be here soon,” I told her. “It’s on his card.” That’s how hotels work, right? I don’t remember.

I sat in the chair and watched conference attendees arriving, each signing in at the front desk, getting their room key and number, and heading to the elevators. The minutes ticked by and I grew antsy. What if he already got here—

The sliding doors opened and I recognized him immediately, right down to the mole on his left cheek. I sucked in a breath, my heart pounding as I stared down at my phone.

“Mr. Volkov,” he said, and I felt a flash of anger that he didn’t even need to change his identity, that he was just able to move on after the Facility.

“Okay,” said the woman at the front desk. “Room 845.”

Game time.

I got up, putting my phone to my ear as I stepped back outside onto the street, pretending to take another call, and as soon as I was out of sight of the lobby, I ducked into the alley next to the hotel. “Let’s go, Willow, let’s go,” I murmured. I put on the face paint, the mask over my lower face, and shrugged off my sweatshirt, letting my wings out if I needed a quick exit. I shivered in the alley, afraid that at any moment, someone else could stumble down it and catch me.

I hopped on a VPN app on my phone and leaked the files before uploading them to the tip line that a government agency had set up after the HYDRA/SHIELD split. It’ll only take them a few minutes to respond once they verify this information. We’re on the clock now. Based on the other raids I had studied; they didn’t waste time in nabbing the ex-HYDRA agents.

The last part was the hardest, getting to Volkov’s room right before the police did. Just long enough to see if he knew anything about Subject Zero or where Dr. Turner was now. Face covered, I flew up to the roof and took the access stairs down to his floor, running down the hallway until I got to Room 845. I felt almost sick again, being out in the open like this. Anyone could turn the corner and see me at any moment. I heard the TV on inside and knocked before stepping out of sight of the peephole. Inside, there were footsteps and the door opened a crack. “Hello?” a man called. Volkov.

I jumped into sight and shot a blast of air from my hands, pushing the door fully open and Volkov down as I stepped in after him and closed the door. He yelled and scrambled for his cell phone, but I shook my head and held my hands up.

“Don’t,” he warned. “They will look for me.” The television continued to blare in the background, some Russian news network.

“What happened to Subject Zero?” I asked, taking a step forward. “I know you worked at the Boston Facility. Where is she now?”

“I don’t know her,” he said, still on the floor where he had fallen. “God, did they send you? I am still faithful. Please.”

“What about Doctor Dawn Turner?” I asked. “What about her?”

“I don’t… I don’t know!”

“What was Monster?”

“Monster?” he repeated, and then he started laughing like the other man had. “Oh, you're one of them, aren't you? One of the wonders? Do you know anything?” Volkov took my silence as an answer and he got off the floor. His sudden courage made me nervous. “Better enjoy your freedom while you can. Cut off the head ... two more will grow back. You know?”

“What was Monster?”

“Sumerkey,” he whispered.

“Su Mer Key?” I repeated under my breath. Something felt wrong and my heart started pounding again, this time like it would explode out of my chest. I heard the chattering of comms approaching us—authorities closing in now—and my brain had just gone blank. I was frozen. Willow, Willow snap out of it. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The comms were close now and the television seemed to get louder and louder, and just as Volkov opened his mouth again, I shook my head. “No, we’re done. Thanks for nothing.” I ran for the window and flung it open, throwing myself out of it as I dodged the oncoming raid. I soared up, back to the rooftops, feeling like I was suffocating in the cool air. I didn’t even really land, more just crashed down on the rooftop. Before I could forget, almost in a trance, I pulled a Sharpie from my backpack, one that I had always carried with me, even though I wasn’t sure why anymore. Halfway up my arm, in a space usually hidden by a sleeve at the Facility, I scrawled the phrase in black ink. Sumerkey. I knew this. I had done it before.

October, shh. It’s time to play Monster.

Sumerkey.

I stared at the word, almost forgetting where I was for a moment, remembering how I used to do this all the time at the Facility. I stole a Sharpie. Hid it under my mattress. After each reset, I would find the word eventually.

It had been such an integral habit, something I hardly thought of, that as soon as I left the Facility I stopped doing it. There was no need to. I forgot.

Until now.

Sumerkey. It was on my arm now; I wouldn’t forget it again. Why did I do this? Why did I stop? Repeating the word, staring at it made me think of the Facility, my friends. Why?

Sumerkey. Heckergal. I’m… fourteen years old. I’ve been here since I was six. These are my friends. I sleep with a stuffed…

“Elephant,” I said out loud, the words leaving my mouth before my brain processed them. “I sleep with a stuffed elephant.”

As I watched the authorities march Victor Volkov out of the hotel and into one of the waiting vehicles down below, I shook my head, realizing that Volkov had given me a lead. Sumerkey was how Monster started.

From now on, I’m wearing headphones when I do these operations. I’m not risking it. And from now on, Sumerkey stays on my arm again.

[bibhabmishra]

8 movies that really got science wrong

Science has been a dependable companion to Hollywood, giving the hereditary enchantment that breathed life into dinosaurs back, the errant medication that gave our planet to the gorillas, and the radiation that helped man become bug.

In any case, has Hollywood regarded science consequently?

In the tallness of summer blockbuster season, we asked everybody from George Church to Dr. Richard Besser to specialists went government officials to certainty check the big-screen science behind some paramount films and detail the scenes that made them squirm in the theater.

What's more, we'd prefer to give a cap tip to @TheSciBabe otherwise known as Yvette d'Entremont, a previous systematic scientific expert, for rousing this rundown. Her own pick is 2012's "The Avengers."

"Jurassic Park" (1993)

Featuring

Sam Neill, Jeff Goldblum, and Laura Dern

IMDB plot rundown

During a review visit, an amusement park endures a significant force breakdown that permits its cloned dinosaur displays to go crazy.

Master truth check

One of my preferred bloopers was "Jurassic Park" utilizing "Lysine Contingency" for biocontainment. [Editor's note: Lysine Contingency was a presented hereditary change that made the dinosaurs reliant on lysine supplements from the staff so they couldn't get by outside the recreation center, as indicated by Jurassic Wiki.] But lysine is available in all nourishments on the planet.

— George Church, geneticist and manufactured scientist who instructs at Harvard Medical School and helped found the Wyss Institute for Biologically Inspired Engineering. Among his many research activities, Church and his associates at Harvard effectively put wooly mammoth qualities into the genome of an Asian elephant.

I love the special visualizations. I went to see it with my then beau (presently spouse) on the big screen and it truly caught my creative mind. However, even in those days, I realized eradication isn't reversible!

— Dr. Reshma Kewalramani, official VP and boss medicinal official at Vertex Pharmaceuticals

"Star Trek: The Motion Picture" (1979)

Featuring

William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, and DeForest Kelley

IMDB plot outline

At the point when an outsider shuttle of tremendous force is spotted moving toward Earth, Admiral James T. Kirk resumes direction of the upgraded USS Enterprise so as to capture it.

Master reality check

In the old "Star Trek" motion pictures, it used to trouble me a great deal when a character was shot with a phaser. The individual was killed down to their shoes however it left the ground underneath totally immaculate.

— Rep. Bill Foster (D-Ill.), previous physicist

"Episode" (1995)

Featuring

Dustin Hoffman, Rene Russo, and Morgan Freeman

IMDB plot synopsis

Armed force specialists battle to discover a solution for a dangerous infection spreading all through a California town that was brought to America by an African monkey.

Master certainty check

"Episode" was dreadful. How on the planet did they get enough plasma from a solitary monkey to spare a great many individuals from a destructive Ebola-like infection? How is it conceivable the first flare-up in an African town slaughtered, obviously, 100 percent of the populace, but then there were survivors when it arrived at white people in the U.S.A.? … Some fear inspired notions asserting HIV was "made in a CIA lab" refer to that film. It has demonstrated unthinkable, on account of Hollywood, to get the world to comprehend that Richard Nixon shut down the U.S. hostile bioweapons program during the 1970s, and there is no CIA bioengineering mystery lab.

— Laurie Garrett, Pulitzer-prize-winning columnist, creator of "The Coming Plague," and specialist on Steven Soderbergh's 2011 film, "Infection"

The revealed motivation for Dustin Hoffman's character in the motion picture additionally had a few musings.

In all the time I was in the Army or at CDC, we never "nuked" an African town to contain a flare-up. The monkey that carried the sickness from Africa to the U.S. was a capuchin or Cebus monkey, which is a South American animal categories. To spare a town passing on from the illness, they plasmapheresed [Editor's note: removed antibodies from the blood of] said monkey and this around 20-pound monkey yielded a unit of plasma for each inhabitant of the town ��� a serious accomplishment. The monkey more likely than not been drained a while later.

— Dr. C. J. Subsides, a virologist who took a shot at Ebola and other lethal pathogens at the U.S. Armed force Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases and at the CDC

"Frenzy" (2018)

Featuring

Dwayne Johnson, Naomie Harris, Malin Akerman

IMDB plot rundown

At the point when three unique creatures become contaminated with a perilous pathogen, a primatologist and a geneticist collaborate to prevent them from decimating Chicago.

Master certainty check

"Frenzy" messes around with CRISPR quality altering, however makes large, George-sized errors en route. CRISPR could speculatively be utilized to attempt to give animals new highlights like wings, however you'd almost certainly need to begin with one-cell undeveloped organisms. Additionally, even in some popular, weaponized structure making an infectious quality drive, CRISPR couldn't influence the genomes of a sufficiently high level of cells to cause changes in an entire existing creature and it'd to be too moderate a procedure for Hollywood. You'd presumably get a great deal of asymmetry, as well, with the end goal that that wolf beast in the film, for example, could simply have made them wing and flew around and around, or developed that wing out of its nose or butt. An animal growing up mixes of inconsequential attributes like wings and a porcupine tail from CRISPR is much harder to clarify. At long last, the possibility of a cure or on-off switch for quality alters is less absolutely outlandish and the last is really being investigated in the lab, however most likely couldn't influence only one characteristic like hostility and wouldn't take 10 minutes.

— Paul Knoepfler, immature microorganism researchers at the University of California, Davis

Two STAT correspondents additionally went out to see the films to check whether "Frenzy" got the study of CRISPR right. Peruse our audit.

"Skyfall" (2012)

Featuring

Daniel Craig, Javier Bardem, and Naomie Harris

IMDB plot rundown

Bond's dependability to M is tried when her past causes issues down the road for her. When MI6 goes under assault, 007 must find and pulverize the risk, regardless of how close to home the expense.

Master actuality check

The scoundrel in the James Bond motion picture "Skyfall" is a disenthralled previous government agent whose jaw was as far as anyone knows liquefied away by a hydrogen cyanide suicide pill turned sour. With the exception of … hydrogen cyanide is most popular as a toxic gas and hydrocyanic corrosive, from which it very well may be inferred, is less destructive than lemon juice. On the off chance that it was that destructive, it would have liquefied the container itself some time before. I was irritated to such an extent that my child later said he could never go with me to a decent government agent film again.

— Deborah Blum, chief of the Knight Science Journalism program at MIT, writer of "The Poisoner's Handbook" and the up and coming "The Poison Squad"

"Excursion to the Center of the Earth" (1959)

Featuring

James Mason, Pat Boone, Arlene Dahl

IMDB plot outline

An Edinburgh teacher and arranged partners follow an adventurer's path down a wiped out Icelandic fountain of liquid magma to the world's inside.

Master truth check

I still can't seem to experience any individual who has visited the focal point of the earth, cruised an underground ocean in a mushroom vessel, or wellbeing drifted on of magma — or all the more precisely, magma.

— Rep. Michael Burgess (R-Texas), previous specialist

"Disease" (2011)

Featuring

Matt Damon, Kate Winslet, and Jude Law

IMDB plot rundown

Medicinal services experts, government authorities, and ordinary individuals wind up amidst an overall plague as the CDC attempts to discover a fix.

Master Fact-check

From multiple points of view it gets the science right, yet I was struck by the speed by which they made another antibody and spared the world. That is deluding. As we've seen with HIV, Ebola, Zika, jungle fever … making immunizations that are protected and compelling can take quite a while and can be slippery. The quick making of an immunization in "Infection" can add to the bogus desire for what science can do during a general wellbeing emergency.

— Dr. Richard Besser, president and CEO of the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation and previous acting chief (during the beginning of the H1N1 flu pandemic) of the CDC

"Prometheus" (2012)

Featuring

Noomi Rapace, Logan Marshall-Green, and Michael Fassbender

IMDB plot outline

Following hints to the starting point of humanity, a group finds a structure on a removed moon, yet they before long acknowledge they are not the only one.

Master truth check

I need to state the film that truly irritated me was "Prometheus." The cartographer gets lost promptly, and when the scholar sees an outsider creature he needs to snuggle with it. At that point the entire team just keeps on doing numbskull things to place everybody in harm's way.

[romancereadingdiva]

Audition by Skye Warren

This audition gets the gig! 👑👑👑👑

This audition between Bethany and Josh is as intense as it gets, and I enjoyed every minute of it! They have a slow burn and when they finally get together it is fireworks! They have a past, and I loved getting to read about that since it informs their current relationship. Josh has built walls because of his childhood, and he thinks that his childhood indicates that he should not love or care about people. He is so wrong! Bethany has been the one thing to bring light into his life, and I delighted in that. She has had to be strong, and I admired that about her along with her dancing and gracefulness. They both have been alone, but what will Josh do when there is a threat to Bethany’s safety? I recommend you read this book and find out! 

I received a copy of this ebook from Social Butterfly PR for my honest review.

Excerpt:

I open the door, expecting to see a couple of rough-hewn b@st@rds fighting or training. They might even take a swing at me. We’re all a bunch of army b@st@rds, more comfortable using our fists than our words.

Instead I’m struck by the sight of a body in motion, but not in violence.

She’s dancing. Grace. Strength. And completely inappropriate to this place—desire. It’s nothing so base as t!ts and a$$, though I’m sure hers are lovely. No, it’s the sweep of her calf and the indent at her waist. The lift of her chin.

I could not be more shocked if I had been punched. Or shot.

It feels a little bit like being dunked in lava, watching her dance. I’m immobile in the doorframe of the warehouse. My sanity is one step behind me, utterly gone. I’m seeing visions. She can’t be real. I don’t even want her to be real. This kind of beauty doesn’t belong in the godd@mn gutter. A pale pink leotard against the dinge-dark hollow. Satin ballet shoes pushing into the dirt. Slowly, very slowly, my sluggish mind searches the perimeter. Alone. We’re alone. If anyone had wanted to shoot me, they’d have had plenty of time. An eternity while I’d been staring.

Her spin slows, like a top that’s run out of momentum. Dark eyes meet mine. Surprise. A flash of something else—anger. She drops to flat feet. No longer a goddess, a blur. She becomes a woman. “No,” she says. Then again, “No,” with such force I glance behind me in case someone’s charging at her wielding a knife. The shipyard is empty. It’s only my company she’s objecting to.

Well, you can’t fault her for taste.

“Normally I have to say something for women to hate me,” I say, strolling into the warehouse, pretending my heart doesn’t thud at the sight of her lithe body. Pretending my c*ck isn’t a breath away from rock-h@rd. “I have to say something about their t!ts or their a$$.”

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t seem particularly shocked by my crude language. No, she wouldn’t be. Not in this place. She would have heard much worse. “I told him no more guards.”

“You told who?”

“Who else?” she says. “Your boss.”

My boss? I work for the US government. My job is to drive around godforsaken deserts and pray I don’t get blown up by a bomb buried underground. If I play my cards right, I might move into special operations. That’s what was implied before I went on leave. Go along with what Caleb Lewis offers. Collect information. Report back.

It’s a chance to be somewhere other than the bottom rung. Maybe the only chance I’ll ever get. Which means I have no business being interested in this girl. She probably isn’t even eighteen. “My boss,” I repeat, my voice flat.

“Isn’t that why you’re here? To guard me?”

“Why don’t we do this—you dance again. I’ll stand here, but if anyone attacks you, I’ll just let them have at it. No bodyguards for you.”

She’s not amused. “The guards aren’t there to protect me. You’re here to keep me in the warehouse or keep me at home. Make sure I don’t wander away. Make sure I don’t talk to anyone.”

“You’re talking to me.”

“You tell Caleb we had a deal. And it doesn’t include some—” Her narrowed gaze sweeps down my body, as if she’s only now noticed that I have a body. “Some overmuscled assh*le on steroids.”

I put my hand over my chest. “Direct hit. I’m wounded you think I’d resort to steroids. These muscles were earned the old-fashioned way, thank you very much.”

She snorts, which somehow sounds feminine and delicate. “I’m sure you do much worse things than steroids. And there is no way, absolutely no way, that you’re going to be my new guard, so tell Caleb he can forget it.”

“Would it put your mind at ease to know he didn’t send me?” Though I’m curious how he’s connected to her. We enlisted at the same time. Went through basic at the same time. We’ve never been close, really. When we both had leave, I was surprised he offered for me to hang out with him in New Orleans. I accepted because I have nowhere else to go. At the time I had no idea that I’d be approached by some special department to gather intel for them. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out Caleb’s into some bad shit.

“Right,” she says, unconvinced. “So you’re standing in the one warehouse that doesn’t contain anything illegal because…?”

“Total coincidence. I was looking for the illegal stuff.” Which means I have no business staying to chat with this woman, no matter how compelling she looks with that notch between her eyebrows. She looks godd*mn firece. “Honestly.”

A roll of her eyes. “Tell my brother he doesn’t need to waste time and energy watching me. I’m staying out of trouble.”

Her brother. Jesus. If she’s Caleb Lewis’s sister, then she’s not staying in trouble. It won’t be a clean shot that brings him down. It’ll be a grenade launcher that hits him—metaphorically speaking. Or literally speaking. Everyone in his vicinity will end up in jail or dead. That’s inevitable.

And she’s right here.

Blurb:

Blood and sweat. Bethany Lewis danced her way out of poverty. She’s a world class athlete… with a debt to pay.

Joshua North always gets what he wants. And the mercenary wants Bethany in his bed. He wants her beautiful little body bent to his will.

She doesn’t surrender to his kiss.

He doesn’t back down from a challenge. 

It’s going to be a sensual fight … to the death.

Buy links:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2ZmM1XM

AppleBooks: https://apple.co/2KPTpqL

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/AuditionSW

Nook: http://bit.ly/2U22Nuk

Kobo: http://bit.ly/31PyidI

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2YuiNHu  

Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2Zmbkx4

[seeroftodayandtomorrow]

Angel from Hell

Summary: In a Dystopian society, Kurt has learned to be ruthless. By sheer determination, he has risen to the top and is finally one step from where he always wanted to be. But his outlook on  things changes when he is assigned the task of questioning Blaine Anderson, a leader of the rebellion - by any means necessary.

Chapter 4

Read on AO3

Chapter warning: Kurt speaks about Finn’s death

“Are we going to talk about it?” Blaine asks, increasingly annoyed. As predicted, Kurt rises and leaves.

He had reduced his visits, one per day, considerably shorter than before. He brings Blaine's food, enough for two full meals, and then he sits down on the edge of a chair, very businesslike and unfamiliar in his uniform that he's returned to wearing. He asks one question or two, about the things Blaine suspects they really want to know, about what the Warblers are planning or who the key members are, half-heartedly and, so it seems, without really expecting an answer. Blaine remains silent.

He wishes he could answer. He longs to talk, longs for the conversations they used to have before everything went wrong. Although Blaine still hasn't quite understood what went wrong. He has seen Kurt once before—what about that has made Kurt react the way he had?

Still, he is glad that Kurt has come back—even this strange, silent version of Kurt. He doesn't trust Kurt, can't assess him at all, but he's reasonably sure he won't suddenly start to torture him. If he had assigned someone else—there's no way to know.

But he wants the old Kurt back. The one he had felt could have been a friend under different circumstances. He doesn't know how to get him back.

So he is silent, only, when he feels Kurt's visit is about to be over, he asks the one question. For a week, now, Kurt has silently risen and left, but Blaine still asks. He has to. They're at a stalemate, Kurt has to feel it too: they don't move, nothing is changed by Kurt's questions, nor by Blaine's, as both of them fail to answer. Something has to change. Blaine doesn't know if there are any conditions Kurt's superiors have set on his free hand regarding Blaine—a time limit, perhaps. A period of time in which Kurt must extract the kind of information they want, and then someone else will take over.

Blaine is scared, and that's an understatement. He's terrified. He could throw up just at the thought. The reason for that is that, against all reason, he has still hope. He shouldn't. But maybe the Warblers will rescue him. They are his friends as well as comrades, and not without sentimentality. Maybe they will. Even though that would be crazy, and reckless, and against all of their principles.

But for the slight chance that they do, he has to hold out. And even if they never come, he can't betray them. He can hold his silence with Kurt, but with someone else...if they torture him...he's scared of that, and so scared of not being able to keep still.

But once again, Kurt is gone, and Blaine knows he will come back tomorrow, and they'll repeat everything.

….....................................

“Get a grip on yourself!” Kurt orders himself sternly. He can't go on like this. He knows it, and he suspects Blaine knows it too. His superiors have not set a certain time in which he has to accomplish his task, but they are bound to become impatient at some point, and Kurt hasn't got any results to show them when the time comes.

He shakes his head, tries to think clearly. His goal, from the beginning, has been to somehow gain Blaine's trust, at least enough of it that he would believe his best course would be to answer any questions set before him. May not be one way to achieve that to show a little bit of trust himself? Not really, of course. He suspects that whatever he betrays of himself will be used against him as soon as Blaine gets free. His job, then, is to see to it that that never happens.

His heart aches a little at that thought. He hasn't really allowed himself to think about what will happen to Blaine in the long run. And if he's honest to himself, it's unlikely that Government is going to let him occupy the cell and pay for his board for a long time after they don't need him anymore. Kurt would like to think they'll exchange him back to his family for money or services, but he has to admit it's more likely he will quietly disappear.

Which means they'll kill him. Blaine will die. His smile, his laugh, his courage and tenacity, gone forever. His beautiful eyes, closed, never to open again. His body, broken and dead, buried in some anonymous hole down in Six, or burned.

He tries to tell himself it doesn't matter, though there are tears burning behind his eyes. But he can't consider this, can't consider Blaine. His world is himself, his dad, and Carole. Nobody else matters. It's hard enough to take care of three people.

His hands close to fists as he tries to think about what he has to do. And then he decides not to think about it anymore. It's premature anyway; whatever might happen, it's a long way away.

For now, what he has to do is get over himself. And that should be easy enough; he's had to do it a lot whenever guilt or conscience would get in the way of necessity.

He takes a deep breath and goes back into Blaine's cell.

Blaine is sitting in his accustomed way, on the bed, hugging his knees, eyes closed.

“Yes. We're going to talk about it,” Kurt says, and watches Blaine jump. It is petty, but still he enjoys it. Unsettling Blaine can only make his job easier.

He sits down, but then he doesn't know where to start. Weirdly, whenever he wants to start talking about Finn, there's a lump in his throat that only seems to get bigger.

So he doesn't says anything, just sits there, and feels like he should leave again, but doesn't. If he wants to be the only one Blaine feels he can depend on, he has to be dependable. He has been much too volatile up to now.

He feels volatile now, too; as if he is going to explode any minute from the pressure inside him.

Then, thankfully, before he either runs out of the room, screams, or starts sobbing, Blaine begins to talk.

“After your brother had died, I—I never went up again, you know? I knew I couldn't face my father again, nor live the way I used to when I knew how you lived, how people in Hell lived. If I had known, I'd have planned better: taken not just the medicine for your brother, but more, as much as I could carry, for those that needed it. I'd have taken money, food, clothes. But as it was, I came down here with nothing but the clothes on my back and what money I had in my pocket. People were suspicious at first, because it was very obvious I came from Up, but when they remembered I wanted to help Finn, they were nice. They helped me find a place to live, told me whom to talk to, and so on.”

“Yes.” Kurt nods. He can't quite hide the bitterness in his voice when he adds, “They're quite good at being nice when there's something in for them. But as soon as they see a way for themselves to go up, they cast you aside.”

That's an old hurt; he's surprised he even remembers it. It's ironic, too: he has done plenty of the same since. But it is easier than what he came to talk about, and there is sympathy in Blaine's glance;  Kurt knows he will ask. He decides to answer. It doesn't really touch him any more, after all, and this is all to keep the sympathy. To make Blaine like him, trust him, if possible.

“There was a girl,” he says, meeting Blaine's eyes. “We were friends almost since we were born. We did everything together, and swore we'd always be there for each other. We....were singers, and we were young and naïve enough to believe that there was room for that in the world we live in. That that was a way to escape Five and go higher. And then, one day, she heard a rumor that there were auditions for a theater in Three, and...and she didn't tell me. To...lessen the competition.” He laughs, partly because he can't believe he is still angry about that. “She didn't get in, in the end. I think that now she sings in a bar in Four. At least she got up one level, at the cost of our friendship.”

…...............................

Blaine is quite sure he knows the girl Kurt is talking about. She sings in a bar in Four, that's right, but her bar is that meeting point for rebels he sees before him when he sings in his head. He can imagine her doing something like that to Kurt, once. But he knows she has atoned for it since, if not to Kurt: once a week, she gets cleaned up and shipped up to One like a whore to meet her secret fiancé whom she can't marry because he would be downgraded at least two levels, and they know they're more use to the rebellion with him up in One.

Of course, he doesn't say that to Kurt. He can protect them only by his silence.

He can't forget that Kurt would have them arrested in the blink of an eye, even if he is far too glad that Kurt is back, the old Kurt, not the cold, professional drone of the last days.

Or part of the old Kurt, perhaps. He is more talkative than before, has never disclosed so much of himself and his past. Blaine tries to be wary: who knows what Kurt tries to achieve with this?

“But I didn't come here to talk about Rachel. I came here to tell you about my brother. But where to start?”  Kurt asks, probably mostly himself. He puts his head in his hands, briefly, and then sits up straight. “There had been a mining accident. They happen often, because all the equipment is old and nobody takes enough care to properly secure the tunnels. Mining is hard, dangerous work, down in Five even more than usual, but it's also one of the very few sources of income they have there, so they do it anyway.”

Sometimes he stumbles, Blaine notices. Every time he says “they”, he pauses a little, and Blaine guesses he is about to say “we” and hastily corrects himself. It gives him hope. Somewhere, deep down inside this callous, hard man, there is still that desperate boy.

“So there was the accident,” Kurt continues. “A few people died, but Finn—my brother—he was lucky. His leg got crushed by a falling beam. He would have to lose the leg, but he'd live. We thought. But then the wound got infected, and there was...there was this red streak, and I knew...”

He stops, takes a slow, halting breath. “I knew there was medicine for that, that he could be saved. And so I went—I took everything we had saved, and I went up. A lot of the money was spent on bribes and fees so they'd even let me reach One. Once I was there....you know the rest.”

Kurt is silent, and Blaine doesn't know what to say. Kurt looks small and lost, sitting on his chair and looking at nothing. Blaine wants—he wants to comfort him. Hug him. He can't, of course, but when Kurt turns to look at him, he meets his gaze and tries to say everything he can't say, do everything he can't do, with his eyes.

…............................

Damn. This was supposed to make Blaine emotional, not himself. He is over Finn's death, has accepted it as something, if not inevitable, then at least something that would never happen to him ever again. No one he loved would die in such a way again.

So why are there tears in his eyes? Why is he looking at Blaine like he is looking for comfort, like he wants to be taken into his arms and held? And Blaine—and this is somehow the worst thing—looks back like he would do it, like if Kurt made one move, he would let him cry against his chest and hold him while he was doing it.

The thought of Blaine's death comes back, sudden and inevitable. And it occurs to him that then, he would lose another person to a senseless, avoidable death, and this time it would be his fault.

It's more than he can bear, and he finally starts crying, silently, interrupted by ragged breaths, a hand pressed on his mouth.

And then he feels Blaine's arms around him.

[moczothe1st]

Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War. Part 5: Last Ride of the Douche Brigade

Part 4

Welcome back to Genealogy, broseph. There’s more to the title, but I’m not gonna use it, because I’m not a conformist.

When we left off, the kingdom of Verdane had been laid low, deceived by a subtle manipulator who none of them ever suspected might be working against them.

It’s possible they brought this one on themselves.

Anyhow, let’s go on to chapter two and see which of our allies decides to be an ass this time. 

Sigurd governs the region from Evans Castle, with his newly-wed wife Deirdre ever at his side.

(These two scare me.)

However, Grannvale’s actions in Verdane are ill received by neighboring Agustria.  The lords of Agustria lead a storm of heated rhetoric denouncing Grannvale. To make matters worse, the renowned pacifist Agustrian ruler, King Imca, has been slain by an unknown hand.

(Does the unknown hand’s name rhyme with ‘Vanfroy’?)

(WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIS FACE)

Even as the Agustrian crisis unfolds, the bulk of Grannvale’s army remains in Isaach.

(Guess which one of these lords isn’t totally evil. Go on. Guess. I’m sure you can get this one.)  

As the sole defender of Grannvale’s front, Sigurd once again finds himself in battle…

We start off zooming in once more on Nordion, where Eldigan and Lachesis are-

… Where Eldigan and LACHESIS are having a fight.  This is where we learn that Eldigan might have gotten the hair genes, but Lachesis clearly got the brains.

Lachesis: You’ll only be endangering yourself for a lost cause. He won’t listen to you!

Eldigan: You mustn’t say such things about your king! I, too, have heard the rumors of King Chagall’s involvement, but they are just that: rumors.

(Spoiler Alert: They are not rumors.)

Eldigan: There remains no evidence against him. Surely, His Majesty will see reason in this matter, if I simply persuade him.

Lachesis: But-

Eldigan: Enough! I’ll leave three of my finest knights here to defend Nordion, should the worst come to pass.

(Three. Three. Eldigan, you suck.)

Eldigan: Lachesis, you needn’t look so sad. I will be back. I promise. I’m not about to abandon you in death.

Lachesis: Eldie…

(Turn back, you fool! That’s one of the evil castles!)

(WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIS FACE)

Eldigan: Your father before you worked so hard to build an era of peace with Grannvale. A war will only bring ruin to our people, bringing disgrace upon your good name for generations to come. I implore you: Do not start a war!

Chagall: So it’s you… Eldigan of Nordion. You dastard… my father adored you, and you used his trust to undercut me at every turn. But now my father is no more… long live the king of all Agustria! For years you’ve made me play the fool, and now, I will reward you in kind. Guards! Throw this man in the dungeon!

Eldigan: W-wait! Your Majesty, please-

Chagall: Feh, good riddance, the eyesore. Send my orders to Bordeaux at Heirhein: Seize Nordion Castle! Once that nuisance is dealt with, we’re clear to throw all we’ve got at Grannvale!

Chagall: … There is no turning back now. Even so, I still don’t know if we stand a chance.

(Protip: The moment you’re describing yourself and Manfroy as ‘we,’ you’re already fucked.)

Manfroy: Remember, Grannvale still adheres to that tawdry old peace treaty with you, and their entire army is distracted in Isaach. Strike now, and you could not possibly fail.

Chagall: You’re right. The downfall of Grannvale will mark the rise of Agustria as Jugdral’s new leading power! “Chagall, Emperor of the World”… I like the sound of that.

Manfroy: Hmhmhm… we can only hope your ambition will be rewarded.

Man-boy: That isn’t our only problem, milady. With Lord Eldigan gone, we need to be aware of Heirhein’s movements.  Knowing his lordship’s absence, a strike from them is inevitable.

(“And for some reason he told everyone but me and two other guys to take a vacation.”)

Boy-man: After the Verdane incident, they’re most likely out for revenge on us. Especially lord Elliot.

Lachesis: Ugh, that Elliot… I can’t believe how many times I’ve had to tell him I’m not interested in him. Smug, self-absorbed swing like him are the absolute worst! If only more men were cut from the same cloth as Eldie… it’s too bad they aren’t, else perhaps someone would stand a chance to marry me. Perhaps.

(You keep telling yourself that brother complex will last forever, sweetie. I’m auditioning husbands for you as we speak. Fire Emblem!)

Rightfully Confused: Er… be that as it may, Lord Eldigan’s Cross Knights are still dispatched to the north at Fort Silvail, well away from here. We three are all who remain. Nordion is vulnerable, and they know it. Rest assured, my brothers and I will do all we can to defend the castle, but the odds are against us. I’m sorry, milady.

Lachesis: Very well. Thank you, Yves. But please, look after yourselves. Don’t waste your lives for me. Be sure to tell Eva and Alva that I’m sorry for this.

Yves: We are not worthy of such kind words, milady. Even so, Lord Eldigan handpicked us to defend you. Our lord gave us a task, and we will see it through. As paladins of Nordion, our lives are yours no matter what. To our dying breaths, we live to defend you!

Lord Bordeaux of Doucheheim: Ahahahaha, that’s perfect! Elliot, lay siege to Nordion at once! Let’s see some tears roll down Eldigan’s cheeks!

Elliot of Doucheheim: With pleasure, father!

Oifey: I bear a message from Lady Lachesis, pleading for aid.

Sigurd: They’ve taken Eldigan?! Why… why in the world would they treat a man so esteemed this way? Inform everybody to make ready. We ride for Nordion at once! No matter the cost, Lachesis needs us. He might never admit it, but Lachesis has always been dear to Eldigan. The loss of Lachesis would gravely wound him…

(Oh, bro, the problem is she’s too dear to him. And he’s WAY too dear to her. If you get my meaning.)

Deirdre: Milord… you’re preparing for another battle, aren’t you?

Sigurd: I’m sorry, Deirdre. I owe so much to Eldigan. I could never abandon his sister in a time like this.

Deirdre, Slayer of Men: I thought as much. I’m not about to stop you. No… I will accompany you.

Sigurd: What?! No, I can’t allow that! I refuse to endanger you like this.

Deirdre, Breaker of Souls: Milord, do you not remember our vows? You swore to never leave my side, and I… I am uneasy. I have a feeling that if you and I were to part, we would never find each other again. Please, grant me this. Let me stay by your side…

Sigurd: I’m sorry… you’re right. I did promise. Very well! Let us ride together. But you mustn’t leave my side.

Deirdre the World-ender: I won’t.

And there’s our set-up. Eldigan’s sister is in trouble and we must rush to protect her, because her brother decided to leave three dudes in case of invasion. Better than Aideen’s father leaving just Midir, I guess, but still. Now, since time is of the essence, let’s go shopping and do the Arena for a few hours.  

The armory has a Thunder tome for sale, so I have Azel buy it. It’s lighter than his Fire tome by a good margin, and that should really help his combat effectiveness until we can get him a Wind tome to round out his collection.  I also buy have him sell the Skill Ring since he doesn’t really need it, and give it to Lex to help out his accuracy a bit. Round things out by buying a Steel Lance for Finn and a Steel Bow for Midir.

Now then. Arena Time!

Sigurd: 7 wins, Gained two levels; +3 HP, +2 Skill, +1 Strength, +1 Speed, +2 Defense

Deirdre: 3 wins, Gained one level; +1HP, +1 Magic, +1 Resistance. The order of the universe is restored.

Quan: 7 wins, Gained three levels; +4 HP, +2 Strength, +2 Speed, +1 Luck, +2 Defense, +1 Resistance. Praise Quan. All hail to Quan.

Ethlyn: Two wins, Gained one level. +1HP, +1 Speed, +1 Resistance

Arden: Four wins, gained one level; +1HP, +1 Strength, +1 Magic(?), +1 Defense

Noish: Two wins, gained one level; +1 Skill, +1 Luck.

Alec: Three wins, Gained one level; +1HP, +1 Skill, +1 Strength, +1 Speed

Finn: Five wins, gained two levels; +2 HP, +2 Skill, +1 Strength, +1 Speed, +1 Defense

Azel: Five wins, gained two levels; +1HP, +1 Skill +2 Speed, +1 Magic, +1 Luck, +1 Defense, +1 Resistance

Lex: Five wins, gained two levels; +2HP, +1 Speed, +2 Defense

Midir: Three wins, gained one level: +1 Skill, +1 Strength, +1 Speed

Ayra: Seven wins, gained two levels; +3HP, +3 Skill, +2 Strength, +3 Speed, +1 luck

Jamke: Seven wins, gained three levels; +2 HP, +1 Strength,  +1 Speed, +2 Luck, +1 Resistance

Dew: Two wins; Gained one level; +1 HP, +1 Speed, +1 Defense

But wait. There’s more. See, on this chapter only, the first person to get to Rank 7 (In this case it’s Ayra because she’s perfect) gets to run into a Myrmidon named Holyn. And after you beat him…

Holyn: The way you fought. You were brimming with spirit! Hm, I’d wager there’s something you’re here to fight for, right? All I’ve done is chase the money for all these years… but I look at you, and suddenly it all feels so meaningless. Hey, I don’t suppose you’re recruiting? Maybe using my blade for something real and grander than myself is just what I need.

So here’s Holyn! He’s quite a badass; like a slightly slower but slightly more bulky Ayra, basically. And like her, he comes with both Pursuit and his own personal special sword skill; in his case Luna, which gives him a chance to randomly lower the enemy’s defense to zero before he attacks.  He also has Minor Odo blood, which means he actually is related to her, albeit distantly.  Probably a third cousin or something crazy like that.  And of course, he can do the Arena himself, so… yeah, gonna be here for awhile longer…

Holyn: Six wins, gained two levels; +1 HP, +1 Skill, +1 Defense

All right! This run’s Noish now has the dubious honor of being the first unit abandoned forever. Sorry, Noish, but it’s just that I am pretty sure you haven’t gotten one good level this entire run.  As opposed to Midir, who has gained nothing but amazing levels and yet still can’t beat the arena. I don’t know what’s going on with him.  

*deep breath* Let’s go save Lachesis!  

Here’s the chapter map. Evans is in the bottom right corner, and just like in the last chapter Nordion is just to the west of it, with Heirhein to the west of that. There are three other enemy castles, all of which need to be taken, and a large cluster of villages in the very center, scattered among forests. Most of them have just money, but a few have very excellent items and it’s… it’s not easy to get them all. I’ll try, but don’t hold your breath.  

Sob.

To start, we have to reach Nordion and fight off the Douche Brigade before they are able to kill Lachesis and take the castle. Let’s look in at her situation.

Eh, We’ve seen worse. The first few turns are going to just be having our units run their butts off to try and reach her before her three idiots friends get slaughtered.  To start, have all your horse units move as close to Nordion as they can, with one exception: Ethlyn should move just one space more than Deirdre can.  Because…

SISTER IN LAW SLUMBER PARTY FUN TIMES!        

Deirdre: Everything will be all right, I can feel it. So long as I’m at Sigurd’s side, our happiness will see us through.

Ethlyn: I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sigurd as happy as he’s been since he met you. He’s practically a changed man!

Deirdre: Ethlyn…here. I’d like you to have this. I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while.

Ethlyn: Oh? … Is… is this a light brand?! Wow, these are so rare and hard to come by! Are you sure you want to give me this?

Deirdre: Of course. I know that it will serve you well.

Ethlyn: I can’t thank you enough, Deirdre! I’ll always treasure it.

The Light Brand is a pretty cool sword; it can attack from either one to two spaces away, like a mage or a throwing weapon, but the difference is that while it acts like a normal sword at close range, it casts a spell if used from two spaces away.  A great tool for sword units who have better magic than strength like Ethlyn…

… Should.  End turn.

Lord Doucheiott of Doucheheim: She’s been playing cruel games with my heart for years… but look how the tables have turned! I’ve an entire army behind me, against her insignificant guard. What could she possibly do? She’s powerless to resist coming back to Heirhein with me! And who knows… Perhaps one day she’ll admit she wants it.

God dammit, another rapist. We should start mounting their heads on our pikes to try and discourage future ones.

Naturally, the Douche Brigade takes this turn to move closer to Nordion, just as we did. Behind them, a general and the armor knights wait in a defensive line between us and the cast-

DUDE I WAS RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF SAYING THAT.

Scrooge McDuck: Under the old king, you couldn’t even dare to meddle in any of his property… yet it is the easiest thing to cheat Chagall! Strip everything of worth you find and bring it back here. Leave no stone unturned!

Now these four little fucks go right for the villages in the center of the map, and start burning them. And as you see, they’re Neutral units to start with; even if we reach them, we can’t kill them until after a story event turns the Anphony faction hostile to us. And that happens when you, you guessed it: Take Heirhein. From here, the game becomes a race to destroy Heirhein’s army and take the castle ASAP in the hope of getting someone to the villages fast enough to save them; I have personally never managed to save them all, though getting the majority is pretty doable. I’ll give it the old college try on this run, but it’s stupid hard and even one unexpected wound on a unit you were planning to help can fuck the whole thing up.

Pray to Quan, he who giveth his shining heir Finn to the world.

Switzerland: Let’s wait and see how this unfolds. Instruct the men to remain where they are until the dust settles.

Hey, that’s two Agustrian lords who aren’t total douches, him and Eldigan. I mean, he’s not a great guy on account of anyone with a brain could tell that Herhein is as evil as a barrel of Nazis, but at least he isn’t trying to rob his own people and/or rape a young woman.

Once again, nothing to be done but move closer on our turn. Everyone goes as far as they can, and end the turn.

On Heirhein’s turn, they reach the castle and start their attack. And now the second annoying part of the map starts. See, Yves, Eva, and Alva give you a very neat item if you can manage to get them out of the mission alive. But while they are stronger than most of the enemy units; they are also massively outnumbered and, to put it mildly, total fucking morons. So even if you save them from Heirhein, which is not guaranteed by any means, they will run right up to pick fights with any enemy unit that comes remotely near them, even if it leaves them surrounded and chipped to death from all sides.  The only way to reliably do it is to make sure that after you kill all the Heirhein Douche Brigade, you leave Lachesis right here by herself, thus gimping her experience gain for the entire map. And Lachesis is a fuckin’ good investment, to put it mildly.  

There really isn’t a good option here, is my point.  I may make this a short update and leave it to a vote after I take Heirhein, that part is fairly simple to keep them alive through.

When we actually reach the battle, you guys are in for such a pinch.  

The Heirhein phase goes about as well as can be expected; the enemy divides its attention among all three knights rather than focusing on and killing one. All three of them take some damage, but they’ll live until we can reach them. Now, it’s finally time to rock.

Looka that! Even Alec got a kill, like a real boy.  I have Sigurd run in and talk to Lachesis, recruiting her.

Lachesis: Yes, he’s still in Agusty. It’s as if all the lords have turned on us… Please, Sir Sigurd… lend us your might. No matter what it takes, my brother must be saved.

Sigurd: Of course. I’ve no fondness for bringing war to foreign lands, but in this case we’ve little choice. His Majesty, King Azmur, is aware of King Imca’s assassination, and of Chagall’s hand in it. He’s received word of Chagall’s ambitiions to invade Grannvale itself, and has already approved military action. His Majesty also believes Eldigan’s rescue to be vital if we’re to put an end to hostilities. Rest assured, Lachesis. I swear that I’ll save Eldigan…

Careful, Siggy. Deirdre will get jealous. Now, before we end the turn, let’s take a look at Lachesis.

So here’s the new girl. She starts out underleveled and with base stats that aren’t particularly great other than Speed, which honestly should be a flag screaming LEVEL HER UP. Fortunately it isn’t super hard to do that because she’s a great support unit already: Like Ethlyn, she can use both swords and staves, and comes with a unique weapon called the Miracle Sword that is on a tier just above Steel and just below Silver, which can only be used by female characters. Further, she comes with the ability Charm, which gives allies near her a 10% boost to both accuracy and evasion.  For Holy Blood, she’s got Minor Hezul; +20% to HP growth and +30% to Strength, which is the sort of thing I wish Dew had.      

On the Nordion phase, the Three Stooges choose to go on the offensive rather than hide behind Lachesis where they FUCKING BELONG, but they do kill one enemy and weaken another. My hope now is that Elliot will choose to go for one of my units rather than them.  Come on, douche, Midir is in your range! Parked on a tree!

Good man.

Now it’s time to wipe him out. The first thing to note is that Elliot himself has a droppable Silver Lance, which means we want the kill to go to Quan, for preference. To start, I have a few other folks team up to remove his bodyguards…

Solid. For Elliot himself, I think Lex should be able to soften him up without killing him, so I have him engage with his pretty new toy, putting it to good use for once…

And then send Quan in to finish up.  

Oh, that was pretty much perfect. Wonderful, you guys, wonderful.  Everyone also makes a straight run to Heirhein after their attacks, because the enemy has officially been wiped out now.  Time to start crashing against their defense line! It’s all fairly standard stuff, with only two things worth nothing. First: the general leading them has a droppable item, the Return Band. It lets the unit holding it warp back to your home base whenever they want. That’s not terribly useful, so I’m taking it as a ‘whoever kills him gets it as their bonus.’ And then there’s this:

There are two ballistae in this group. They’re not a huge danger to land units; they aren’t very accurate and they aren’t very strong. But they have a huge range and they can totally annihilate any flying units they target, so it’s a good idea to start training yourself to spot and track them now, for when we actually have some of those. For now, though we just have to end the turn.  We have one more turn before the first bandits reach the villages; this is gonna be close either way.  

Lachesis can start off her tenure in our forces by healing her own idiots back up to full. With luck she’ll gain her first level in doing so.   The rest of the team rushes forward again, and now we’re in range of the Douche Brigade Part 2.  If I have this done properly, the horses will be able to do a solid start on them and then rush past to start going for the castle itself, and then the infantry can mop up.

I probably don’t have it right.  

End turn!

… That’s it? One guy takes one shot at Quan and you end your turn? Bastards. And now the bandits are in the villages, so the time limit has gone down sharply. Come on, my turn!

Some, you know, thank-yous to go around here. I’d like to thank Sigurd for missing and throwing off the rhythm when he was supposed to kill that guy, and I’d like to thank Finn for disappointing me with a level for the first time. Also, after all that boondoggle about getting Quan a Silver Lance, I forgot to have him equip it, so thanks to my stupidity.  

Still, probably it will go okay. Alec might not die. End turn!

… Well, I was right about Alec, anyway. I forgot how hard that general hits, dammit.  Okay, reset. Let’s try and go after him first, taking away his leadership stars from his army. Maybe we’ll take fewer hits that way, too.  

WHY WON”T YOU DIE?

FUCK OFF.

*deep breath*

Okay. Well. Um. End the turn. This is gonna be ugly.  

WHOO!  Oh, jeez, we came… really close there. That was bad.  But in the end we pull through without losses.  A lot of very hurt people, though.

Buuuuut guess who is close enough to start heeeeeelping…

Welcome to the fight, slowpokes.

Now, with the cavalry beat up pretty bad, I have an issue.  Lex, Finn, and Midir really need healed. But I also need to keep pushing forward. So I have Quan and Alec rush out to kill one of the ballistas;

And let Lex tag the other, then run down to the west. This puts him out of the range of anyone; he can’t get healed, but nothing can attack him this turn. For the rest, I have Sigurd take out a lance dude and run up toward Heirheim, with Ethlyn behind him in case he gets a boo-boo.  Finn, now the only person left in this mess, runs for his damn life, stopping only to Javelin a dude.

Well-javelined, bro.  The enemy is now three attack units and a priest, and everyone they can attack is in reasonable health. Including Jamke, who is high priority target because he can’t fight at melee, and yet he’s durable enough to last and dodges like a cat. I hope they go for him. End turn!

… Shit, got to close to the Cross Knights. Well. Even they can’t die to this few enemies. They are going to steal a kill, though. Fuckers.

On the Heirhein phase, the two remaining armors decide to bully the Cross Knights, and you know what? I don’t even care. They don’t steal any more kills, they don’t die, I’ll take it. And on my turn…

The enemy is taught the error of their ways. Sigurd, Quan, Ethlyn, and… Alec, of all people, reach the outskirts of Heirhein and can attack next turn.  Let’s end-

… I forgot he has a bow and parked Sigurd in his range. Oops. Well, he doesn’t do too much damage. And at close range he uses a sword, so the best choice to take him on is actually Quan; I send Sigurd and Alec to clear the way…

(And I think Alec absorbed Noish’s very little usefulness to become some kind of Alec-Noish fusion with the combined power of both. Which is actually only average power.)  

… And with the way clear, I ignore the mooks and send Quan right at the boss.

Praise Quan! Okay. Okay. Ethlyn has a 100% chance to hit.  Unless I’m reading the math wrong, she can do this, and then I can take the castle next turn. Everyone else can just start moving up north toward Anphony and the villages. I might pull this off. Ethlyn, don’t disappoint me!

…………………. Ethlyn, why is every good thing you do also tainted by the miserable stench of failure this run? Is it Finn? Did Finn steal your talent? At least you’re super fast.

I move everyone up toward the next objective except Quan, Sigurd, and Alec. On Heirheim’s turn the two remaining mooks take shots at them, no biggie, both miss… except one also blocks Sigurd’s path to conquer the castle!

Dick! We could have gotten through this without additional bloodshed, but you had to make it personal.

And with that, Heirhein falls. When you take a castle all the units ‘tied’ to it immediately die, so the last mook just vanishes.  

Sigurd: Nordion should be safe, but Eldigan is still being held in the capital. Furthermore…

Oifey: Yes?

Sigurd: I’m hearing that the frontier towns in the central forests as grappling with bandit raids. We can’t afford to leave them be.

Oifey: Agreed. It is crucial that we help the locals, that we might convince them we aren’t their enemy. In that case, we must ride for the north at once. There’s no time to waste. Let’s go!

Thanks, Oifey.  Because I wasn’t already feeling rushed.

(DAMMIT CHAGALL DON’T PUT YOUR CREEPY OLD-MAN FACE ON SCREEN WITHOUT WARNING ME)

Chagall: There had better be a good explanation for your behavior, Macbeth!

Scrooge Macbeth: Er, um… my humblest apologies, your majesty! Forgive me, I beg of you! I’ve already sent the order for Waltz’s sellsword unit to move in at once!

(“And behind him, Tango and Cha-cha’s units are ready to make war upon your command!”)

Waltz: Bet he’s gonna send us in, then ‘ave his men turn tail right when we need ‘em. I’m stayin’ put till I see how this all plays out. Oi, Beowulf, how about you?

Beowulf: Yeah, I ain’t up for this at all, Waltz. That Macbeth swine really rubs me the wrong way. I’m this close to just walkin’ off the job.

Waltz: You’re a free man, Beowulf. If a job isn’t right for you, you’re free to quit it.  That’s the funny thing about mercenaries, innit? Today’s pals are tomorrow’s foes.

Beowulf: Amen to that. Hopefully we’re not gonna end up enemies someday. Wouldn’t have a hope in hell against you, would I?

(FORESHADOWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING)

Waltz: Heh… ain’t met anybody in the whole world who can take me!

*cracks knuckles* Sounds like a challenge to me, bro.

And now, to close things out, let’s start our turn, and meet the one shot we have at saving those villages…

Mystery Bard: Bandits? Isn’t the Agustrian army doing something about them?  

Villager: The army? Hah! That’s rich, boy! The army’s too busy with their little civil war to deal with our problems. Clearly that’s more important than our safety. Actually, that’s not all… rumor is, the Lord of Anphony himself is pulling the bandit’s strings here.

Bard: Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding. That’s it. That guy’s gotta go. I’ll go sort out the bandits, okay? Now, how big a reward’ll be waiting here for me when I get back?

Villager: Still full of hot air, are ya? Just get outta here, wise guy. Nobody here’s got the time to listen to you blowing your own horn.  

Lewyn: Sylvia?! Damn! Er…I mean… you found me!

Sylvia: Yeah, I found ya! You had your fun with me, so you’re just dumpin’ me without so much as a goodbye?!

Lewyn: Hey, mind that tongue of yours! We barely just met here a week ago! We’ve only been out for dinner… what, two or three times? You’re a dancer, I’m a bard… there’s not much else to it.

Sylvia: But… but you called me adorable! That… that really meant a lot to me…

Lewyn: Er… sometimes I just say things and odn’t really mean them…

(Smooth, brah.)

Lewyn: Oh, come on! Enough with the tears! Things’ll probably get rough out there, though.  Think you’ll be okay?

Sylvia: Yeah! I like it rough!

(She’s fourteen, by the way.)

Lewyn: Jeez, she was crying her eyes out just a few seconds ago. It’s like she never really grew up.

(See above.)

Sylvia: Huh?

Lewyn: Er, nothing! Let’s get going.

Hilarious! Hahahahaha! Yeah, she really is fourteen. Didn’t make that up. Fourteen years old. And yes, she can marry someone.

I said I was going to marry off every possible girl. Because of story reasons. Damn my soul. 

I’m going to go take a long, hot shower and try to scrub off this feeling of shame. The rest of you, see you back here next week when we try to forget everything we just saw, and start our counter-attack on those village robbing fiends!

… Fourteen.

Total Resets: 4.  Finn, why. 

Part 6

[padawanlost]

Clones Medical Care

[Part 1]

Context

The book [Republic Commando: True Colors by Karen Traviss] is set between AOTC and ROTS (less than 2 years after the Battle of Geonosis). The main characters are clones and a couple of Jedi and Mandalorians working for the GAR. 

Medical Care

Besany Wennen (human, agent of the Republic Treasury Audit Division), clone sympathizer and in a relationship with clone Ordo beings to uncover inconsistencies in the GAR’s finances. Eventually she uncovered this talking to  senator Den Skeenah (Mon Mothma’s predecessor):

Besany took it carefully. “I’m having some difficulty identifying medical provision for the Grand Army, Senator. I can identify expenditure on what I think are medcenter facilities, but it’s not … let’s say the audit trail isn’t transparent.”

That careful comment meant a great deal in political code if the listener wanted to interpret it. Skeenah seemed to. “Yes, I’ve asked repeatedly about casualties—the medical field units are woefully inadequate, and I can’t find out what happens to those killed in action. To the best of my knowledge, the bodies aren’t recovered. There’s no heroes’ return for these poor men. So if you see large sums allocated to clone welfare, I can assure you there’s no sign of it being used to that end.”

And this:

It was time for a little humility. “I know a lot of clones, by most people’s standards, and yes, I care what happens to them.”

“You might know, then, what happens to them.”

“In what sense?”

“When they’re wounded but can’t return to active duty. You see, I can find out what happens on the Rimsoo medical stations—or at least I get some limited answers from the Defense staff—but I’m getting no answers about the men who can’t be patched up and sent back.”

Besany thought of Corr, temporarily assigned desk duties after a device he was defusing blew up and took his hands with it. He was awaiting the arrival of specialist prosthetics, and if Skirata hadn’t grabbed him for commando training, he’d have gone back to ordnance disposal.

“I would imagine they die,” Besany said. “The army seems to go to a lot of trouble to send them back.”

“Ah, but life isn’t that tidy,” Skeenah said. He lowered his voice, even though the doors were shut. “There’ll be injuries that a man can survive, but that means he’ll never be fit for service again. I can’t seriously believe something like that hasn’t happened in more than a year of this war. And yet there are no homes for these men, who must surely exist, and we know they don’t end up being cared for by family—because they have none. So where do they go?”

Besany didn’t even want to think about it, but she had to. The only answer she could think of right then was that the most badly injured who might otherwise have been saved were left to die. But some mobile surgical units had Jedi advisers. No Jedi would let such a thing happen … would they? She had to talk to Jusik. He’d tell her.

“I’m going to see if I can find out,” Besany said.

“And I’m going to carry on pressing for proper long-term care facilities.” Skeenah looked troubled. “Meanwhile, I’m also going to help raise funds for charitable care. There are some citizens out there who want to help, you know.”

At least we got confirmation that some senators were aware of what was going on. I haven’t found any evidence of the Jedi being aware the clones were being left to die but I’ve to admit that’s hard to believe. If the truth was that obvious to realized, the Jedi not knowing implies neglect or disinterest (maybe both). I can’t picture to turn this into a good thing for the Jedi Order. If they didn’t realize the men they were responsible for were being neglected then shame on them.  

Later she uncovered a company and some republic credits allocated to the GAR but it’s all front. The naïve nugget she was, thought the credits would be used to build more medical facilities but, of course it wouldn’t. The credits and the locations were being used (by Palps) as secret cloning facilities.

“[...] you won’t find Dhannut Logistics, because they don’t exist. They’re a front for moving credits around inside Republic finances. You did well to find the connection with Centax Two, but if you keep crashing around you’re going to get caught, so I’ll save you some time. Yes, there are clones now being produced in facilities outside Kamino—some here, most on Centax, and a lot of them. No, the Grand Army command hasn’t been told, because those Jedi generals will want the extra men to deploy right away, but they won’t get them. So you can pass that on to your contact.”

If you think this can’t get any shadier, you’re are wrong. Fi (clone) is injured, Besany finds him in a hospital and this happens:

“Just update me on this patient. I understand some difficulty arose over treating him here.”

“He can’t stay here.”

“If this is about budget codes, my department will be most displeased.”

“No, we have to terminate the treatment.”

“You’ve got a line of saline in his arm and there’s nothing on the drug chart.

You’re not short of beds. What treatment? I don’t see the chief of neurosurgery in here.”

“He’s not a citizen. He’s a clone soldier.”

“I know. And?”

“We have no agreement for long-term care with the Grand Army. In fact, as far as the Republic is concerned this patient doesn’t exist, and as he’s been declared brain-dead by the duty neurosurgical team, we would normally terminate life support, except he’s still breathing, which is highly abnormal.” The droid paused as if to check if Besany was following its train of logic with her inadequate organic brain. “Withdrawal of life support in his case means withdrawal of hydration or feeding, or both.”

“Starving him to death, for us lay-beings.”

“Indeed. This is clearly ethically undesirable, so euthanasia will be administered.”

Besany thought she’d misheard, but she hadn’t. “No,” she said, hearing her voice as if she were standing outside herself. “No, it will not be administered. I’ll get his care authorized. In fact, I’ll get him moved to private care.”Did I hear that right? Do they really put patients down like that? Like sick pets?

“He’s Grand Army property, so unless you have a Defense requisition, you can’t take possession of him.”

“He’s a human being.”

“I don’t make the rules.”

“His name’s Fi. If he hadn’t been engineered and hatched, he’d be about twenty-four years old. He’s a sniper. He’s a trained combat medic. He likes glimmik music. He’s an elite soldier.”

“He’s brain-dead.”

“He’s breathing.”

“I said this was a perplexing case.”

“Well, if you or any of your colleagues want to try euthanizing him, or whatever tidy euphemism you have for killing people in their beds, you’ll have to get past me.”

“You’re not from the Defense Department, are you?”

“I’m from the Treasury. If he’s government property, he’s mine. So I’m taking him.”

“I cannot allow this.”

“Try stopping me.”

BYE

Coming soon:  The Holo News and The ownership problem