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gojonanami · 1 year ago

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FIVE TIMES NANAMI WANTED TO PROPOSE BUT DIDN'T - NANAMI KENTO

✴︎ summary: nanami wanted to propose to you so many times - but it was never the right time, and then, there was no time left. ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, swearing, ANGST (major spoilers for jjk 120 (probably next week's episode, character death, exploration of grief, if you wish to avoid the major angst: stop reading after part 5), SMUT (fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), panty sniffing, semi public sex, nipple play, creampie, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms), pet names (love, sweetheart), happy ending (sort of?) ✴︎ wc: 10,121 (i have a problem) ✴︎ song: the archer - taylor swift (blame laney for this)

ONE.

The first time Kento Nanami wanted to propose to you shouldn’t count.

And it won’t because it was when he first met you — enrolled into Jujutsu Tech along with the other first years, he first laid his eyes on you at a welcome party that the soon to be menace to his sanity, Satoru Gojo, had organized. Well, he could thank Gojo for one thing it was introducing you to the room — because he may have had to find the words to ask you himself. And he didn’t know if that was possible with his tongue in knots.

But he managed to talk to you — mostly with Haibara leading the conversation. You were reserved, at first, but he saw the spark in your eyes whenever you spoke about something you were passionate about — reading was one, one thing you both shared a love for.

“Yeah hauling my books to Jujutsu Tech wasn’t an easy feat, I had to ask Geto-senpai to have some of his cursed spirits help me haul it up to my dorm,”

“By the way, you still owe me lunch for that,” Geto smirks as he slips past, and the flush that settles on your cheeks is one Nanami wanted to see — again and again.

“Aren’t the upperclassmen supposed to buy lunch?” You grumble, pouting as Gojo interjected himself, resting himself on your shoulder with his arm, making you jump.

“Not here, here the kouhais earn their keep,” he grins, tilting his glasses down, “can you?”

And Nanami opens his mouth to reply, irritation creeping over his senses, before you brush Gojo off, “I’ll buy you lunch, but next time, if that’s what it’s gonna cost me, I’m going to have you two haul my books by hand up those steps,” You stick out your tongue, before your arms curl around his and Haibara, “let’s have cake,” you smile at both of them, gaze lingering on Nanami, “and we can exchange book recommendations?”

That was the moment he wanted to propose — could see himself living in a home with you, filled with both of your books lining the walls of a personal library, but your living room as well. He could see himself falling asleep beside you as you read to him, your fingers carding through his hair.

But no, no, it was irrational, he chided himself, as he talked to you, his lips curled in a smile that had damned him from the moment he saw it. He just had met you — he had barely been ever moved by another person, much less fallen in love. And it shouldn’t happen this quickly — it only happened this quickly in books — not in real life.

But you — he watched you and Haibara chat and laugh — you were someone that might just be the thing of books.

~~~~

TWO.

The second time he wanted to propose, he didn’t care to remember.

And he barely did.

He remembers the facts of the mission. It was supposed to be simple — exorcise a grade 2 curse, simple enough for him and Haibara to handle by themselves. Not that they had a choice. Jujutsu Tech’s resources were already far too spread thin — Gojo himself being sent all over Japan and even overseas to handle things himself that no one should be able to. But their mission? It should have been simple — dangerous still, but simple.

But nothing was simple when it came to curses.

He remembers sensing the curse — the manifestation had frozen him and Haibara for a moment — their bodies taut with fear and adrenaline — but they couldn’t move. Even as the cursed spirit screeched before them, he couldn’t articulate what was happening — it was supposed to be a grade 2, it was supposed to be a grade 2, but no — this was a grade 1.

And then it struck — Kento barely had enough time to react, but he did, pushing Haibara out of the way when it did.

He didn’t remember much after that.

He remembered the squelch of Haibara’s flesh, the blood seeping through his clothes, the way his body crumpled on the ground, and he remembered the next moment was the first time he landed a black flash — stunning the curse enough for him to grab Haibara and escape.

But not enough to save him.

Haibara had made him promise if anything had ever happened to him — he would make sure his sister wasn’t recruited to Jujutsu Tech. And he had to make the call to his family — he couldn’t bear the thought of some higher up taking advantage of their grief to manipulate another into their clutches.

No, he couldn’t let that happen.

And now he sat in the morgue with his body, towel covering his eyes — Geto had come and went — and now he sat waiting for the body to be examined and taken away to be burned. Burned to ash with nothing left — that was the way all sorcerers bodies were disposed of. It was if they never existed in the first place - pawns in a never ending war that would have them piled like corpses on a sacrificial pyre.

What was the point?

Haibara had always told him — if there was something only he could do, he would do it. And for him it was jujutsu — but wasn’t there something else? Something else for him to do that didn’t let him up like this? A body on a metal slab waiting to be incinerated. What was the point?

Was there even a point? People lived and people died. He had lived and Haibara died, but he didn’t know why. Why or how do people live one day and disappear the next? He had seen death before but not of someone so close — someone so precious to him. And the chaos was too much for him. To be killed by another’s twisted feelings manifested into a monster — it was almost poetic if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

“Nanami?” And he pulls the towel from his eyes, and sees you — your eyes glassy and red tinged — tear streaks you didn’t hide well left on your face, “Nanami—“ and you don’t know what to do with yourself — as you come to him, hesitating, “can I—“

But he’s the one pulling you into his arms, nearly into his lap as his fingers dig into the fabric of your jacket, “I’m sorry — I’m so sorry I wasn’t there—“ your voice breaks, and it’s enough to break him — he hadn’t really cried, not around another person, but tears well at your words, as your fingers card through his hair.

“You have nothing to be sorry for — I’m the one—“ and his voice breaks in turn, as the words stuck in his mind going round and round, until they were nearly had shattered his sanity and skull along with it, “I’m the one who couldn’t save him,”

And you pull back to look at him with tear stained cheeks, “that’s not your fault, Nanami—“

“How is it not?” His words are laced with more venom that he wishes them to be, a little more bite than he wished to chew, and the hurt in your eyes was enough to make him regret speaking altogether, “I’m so—“

“No, it’s not your fault, Kento,” and his eyes find yours, your lips twisted in a frown, and your gaze unwavering, “I know a part of you knows that — knows that…Haibara’s death is nothing but a function of this shitty system we’ve been funneled into. Nothing more. Nothing less. And you know,” your voice grows softer, “you know Haibara wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for this. You know what he’d say?” You almost chuckle, “he’d tell you not to sweat it. To keep going. That you got it, right?”

He gives a terse chuckle in return, shaking his head, as his head tilts into your chest again, “How do we—“

“I don’t know,” you murmur, you don’t need him to say more, “I don’t know how we do this without him, but we have to. We have to for him,” and your hand cups his face, tilting his chin up so he looks up at you, “together?”

And he wants to ask you then — ask you to marry him. He doesn’t know when he would get a chance. You were the only thing that made his life make sense — the only thing that made him feel okay, feel safe, for once. He was so tired of never feeling that way. And he had just lost the one other person who made him feel that way.

He knew you wouldn’t say yes. You couldn’t. You were both so young still, still reeling from Haibara, still stuck in this system that could kill either of you at any time. But still…wasn’t that all the more reason to do it?

But as you pulled him into another tight hug, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer in the Jujutsu world. He couldn’t — he couldn’t take another loss like this. He didn’t know if he could bear it. But as his tears wet your jacket, surrounded by you — your scent, your soft breath, your warm presence — he would try.

He would try for you. And his eyes slid to Haibara’s body covered by a sheet — and for him.

~~~

THREE.

“After graduation, I’m leaving,” it was a late night, a couple days before graduation that he told you. The soft pitter-patter of rain was the only thing heard from int the silence before he spoke. You laid on the foot of his bed, reading a book, while he sat cross legged at the head of it, his eyes fixed on you.

Your gaze lifts from your book, brow furrowed in confusion, “Leaving?”

“I can’t be a jujutsu sorcerer,” his words are as plain as always, “I can’t do it. I’m going to go to college and pursue some other line of study—“

And you sit up slowly, putting your book aside, and he expects protests, expects you to convince him otherwise, expects you to try and stop him, but all you ask is one question, “are you sure?”

It catches him by surprise — as you always seemed to. He could anticipate enemy attacks, analyze their next moves five steps ahead, plan three routes of escape, and even predict what garbage will come out of Satoru Gojo’s obscene mouth, but you — you always could surprise him.

“I am,” he finally answers softly, “this society is shit, you know that. And these past few years have shown me that the difference I make isn’t worth the toll it’s taking, especially when I’m not changing anything,”

“Kento, you do make a difference,” your fingers find his, intertwining with ease, such ease he can’t help but think that’s what it was meant for, “you do — even if you can’t see it, I just want you to know, you do. For the people you help, even if you don’t see them, for the other sorcerers you inspire, and for me,”

And he chuckles, “even you?” And you roll your eyes, pouting — the same pout that makes him want to lean over and kiss you until your lips are utterly ruined.

“Even me,” you toss a pillow at him, and he catches it with ease, and you scowl playfully, “y’know i’m gonna miss you, but I’m not gonna miss that,”

“What? My quick reflex—“ and you smack him with another pillow and giggle, the noise making his lips quirk into a smile even as you laughed at him, hands covering your lips.

“What was that, Mr. Ratio? Your quick—“ and he’s tossing a pillow right back smacking you in the face, making his lips curl in a rare grin (though not so rare when he was with you—“

And you pull the pillow off, your face grim, “Oh, it’s so on—“ you’re tossing a pillow, but it’s only a diversion as you lunge for him, assumedly to mess up his hair, but he’s caught you by the wrist, his other hand around your waist as he’s gotten you pinned to the bed.

Time stops.

He’s breathing heavily, and you are too — from the rise and fall of your chest, but he can hardly hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. Your lips part as you look up at him — you’re dressed in your sleep clothes, a thin tank top and shorts — and it would be so easy to lean down, let his palm slide under his shirt. He sees your eyes flicker down his body the same — climbing back up before pausing at his lips.

It wasn’t a good idea. He was leaving. You both were graduating. Who knows when he would see you again — yet, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Not when this is what he wanted for so long, when he wanted you for so long. But maybe he should — maybe it would be easier, he couldn’t ask you to leave Jujutsu Tech. Just as you couldn’t ask him to stay. He knew you would stay to honor Haibara’s memory, to carry on his legacy — the one thing sorcerers could do for their fallen comrades.

Sometimes the only thing.

And sometimes it was the only thing they couldn’t do.

“Kento—“ your voice pulls him from his reverie, as your fingers brush against his cheek, “are you going to hover over me forever, let me go, or…” and your teeth graze your lip, “are you going to kiss me?”

And he’s blinking, cheeks most assuredly flushing, as your fingers graze the back of his neck, and his mouth is dry, as he looks down on you.

But he doesn’t need to asked twice, as he leans even closer, delighting in how your breath catches, looming over him, “do you want me to kiss you?” And the telltale quirk of his lips makes you gape at him, drawing a laugh from him.

“I hate you,” you murmur, as his lips finally brush yours, swallowing those playfully bitter words with them — and your lips are even softer than he imagined, your fingers settling themselves on the back of his neck, brushing the hair that rested there.

And when he pulls away; his heart squeezes at the sight of your kiss ruined lips parted as you pant slightly, eyes fluttering open to look up at him as if to ask why did you stop? And he can’t help but smile.

“It’s too bad because I love you—“ the words slip from his mouth — but he doesn’t regret it. How can he? When he might not get another chance.

And he thinks his heart will stop at your silence again, the pitter-patter of raindrops ringing in his ears again, before your lips finally curl.

“You love me, huh?” You’re leaning up and kissing him, lips finding his again and again — and how is it that he’s already addicted? You taste like honey, and sunshine, and something headier — sending heat warmer than liquor throughout his body that only made him crave more of you, and you finally pull away, and you’re smiling, “good thing I love you too,”

And he can’t believe his ears, he can’t believe you love him too — all these years he thought it was one-sided, that he was deluding himself with all the times your fingers found his, your eyes met across a classroom with a smile, and the times he found himself falling asleep next to you all those nights neither of you wanted to be asleep, your arm curled around his.

But you did. You loved him. And he loved you.

And as your lips met again, he knew, he knew he still couldn’t ask you. Couldn’t ask you because he knew you maybe wouldn’t say no — and he couldn’t ask that of you. Not when it wasn’t what you wanted. Not when he knew you could do the good he couldn’t bring himself to do. And you would — because you were the best person he knows.

He loves you. And therefore he had to let you go.

But — as he lingered over you on his bed, his body hovering over his as he dragged his thumb over your red, puffy lips, before leaning down for another kiss —

He didn’t have to let you go this second.

~~~~

FOUR.

It’s years before he sees you again.

It wasn’t purposeful. Not exactly anyway.

It was just easier. Easier not to have to think of you still at the place he once was. Still fighting the same curses he would have been fighting with you. Still risking your life day in and day out. While he…he only had money to worry about. To think about. To obsess about.

Money. Money. Money. Money.

How was this somehow shittier than what the jujutsu world? He had considered going into a more humanitarian profession, but when his goal was to retire early, why waste time? If he wanted to help people…he glances at his phone — the one vice he allowed himself, a picture of you that you had sent him when you got promoted to Grade 1 saved as his screensaver — he could have stayed by your side.

No, he wanted to retire. Find himself a nice place to retire to — he hadn’t decided the exact location yet. Somewhere peaceful. With nothing but beaches and sky and sand and books for him to read, to reclaim his life page by page. But to get there — he had to slop through this shit work — making the rich richer.

The same in the jujutsu world, and the same here as well.

And it was one day after he had exorcised a curse from his favorite bakery’s worker, he had felt anything good — anything remotely good — in far too long. Your words rang in his ears — you make a difference.

Was he making a difference by lining the pockets of the rich? Maybe his sorcery wouldn’t change the world, move minds or hearts, pivot the course of history — but maybe he could have his own impact. And not feel like complete shit when he woke up every morning.

And he wouldn’t — he knew he wouldn’t — if he could just see you smile again. Even if he could just see you again. He pulls out his phone, staring at your picture. And maybe…maybe even more.

“Hello, Gojo? I’d like to return to Jujutsu Tech,” and he hears laughter on the other end, “why are you laughing?”

“Kento?” You drop the pen you’re holding, as he steps into your office. And your lips are parted in surprise, your eyes fixed on his, “what are you—“

“I’m coming back, to Jujutsu Tech, I’m going to be a sorcerer again,” and he knows what you’ll ask, he knows you’re going to ask why — you’re going to ask him if he’s sure. And he doesn’t know how to tell you except by saying it’s because of you.

But you don’t say anything, your chair screeches back as you get up, clattering backwards and suddenly as you’re running into his arms. Your face is buried in his chest, and he can feel the tears against his shirt, and his arms curl around you, fingers running through your hair, “I missed you so much,” you murmur, and then you look up at him, fingers tracing his cheeks, gingerly moving his glasses away, “you look tired,”

“I am, but I’m better now,” he’s murmuring — and how is it that you send him right back to where he started, right back to where you always send him. It doesn’t even take a touch — only a glance, a whiff, a second — “I missed you too,” he adds, “a lot,”

And you push him playfully, pouting up at him, “Could have fooled me. You barely ever called or texted me all these years. You talked more to Gojo than you did me,”

“That’s only because that flippant idiot won’t stop calling until I pick up,” he grumbles — Gojo was the last thing he wanted to talk about in his moment — his fingers caress your cheek, tracing the line of your cheekbone, “I wanted to talk to you — I did, I just, I knew if I talked to you, I might say something I’d regret,”

“And what would you regret saying to me?” You raise an eyebrow, and his eyes are sliding away from him.

Asking you to come see him, asking you to leave Jujutsu Tech for him, asking you to be with him — every question that he wanted to ask, but never could.

“It’s not important—” and your hand cups his cheek guiding his eyes back to yours, and he knew you weren’t going to let this go, “If I talked to you, I knew it would end one of three ways — one, I’d ask you to leave Jujutsu Tech; two, I’d come back to Jujutsu Tech; or three, you’d ask me one of these yourself — but I knew I couldn’t do that,”

And your brows knit together, “Why not?”

“Because it had to be our own decision — I couldn’t leave and you couldn’t leave, just because the other asked,” he murmurs, his gaze softening, “it wouldn’t be fair to either of us — or the other — to feel like the only reason we’re together was because of guilt or want for the other, not for ourselves,”

You consider his words for a moment, “I would have left if you asked me,”

“I know, and I would have come back if you had,”

“But we didn’t,” and your fingers cup his face, “you remember what I said to you that night that we kissed?”

And he swallows the lump in his throat, his heart rattling against his chest, “You said, you didn’t want to go further because it would only hurt more when we had to go our separate ways,” and your hand slides up his chest slowly, the other already resting against his neck, and his find their way to you — one hand holding your waist and the other cupping your cheek, “but we’re not separate anymore, are we?”

“I hope the wait was worth it,” you smile, as both close the gap, lips meeting again and again — and you taste the same, but even better somehow — and he’s only pulling you closer, lips curled in a smile so wide that he hadn’t felt in so long, so long.

“Always, when it's you,” he murmurs against your lips, before his lips begin to trail kisses down your jaw and then your neck, his teeth brushing against your pulse, pulling a gasp from your lips, “good girl,” And he feels your knees buckle against his and he’s walking you backwards into the edge of your desk, “is anyone left on campus?” and you’re shaking your head, your eyes flitting to the door, as he makes you sit on your desk, thighs parted for him to settle between.

“The door—”

“Locked,” he replies, drawing back only a moment to take in the image before him — your lips red and ruined, chest rising and falling as you look disheveled at best, sexed at worst, and your eyes — your eyes swirled with lust, half lidded and desperate for his touch— “didn’t want any interruptions,”

Just as he was.

His fingers draw up a strand of your hair and kisses it, and your lips part, “Kento, please—”

“Please, what, my love?” his voice is low and teasing, as his fingers peel back your jacket, pulling it off your shoulders, “you’re going to have to be more specific,” his lips find your neck, soft, wet kisses that has your body leaning into his, “I’m not a mind reader,”

“But you are a tease,” you pout, and he only smiles, leaning down to do the thing he always wanted to — he kisses the pout off your lips, moaning lightly when your lips part for his tongue, his hands dragging down your sides, as your fingers loosen his tie, “I think you will be doing overtime with me today, Nanami-Sensei,”

And he grunts, as your fingers free him of his tie, joining your jacket on the floor, “I’m not going to be a teacher, just a sorcerer,” his teeth graze right under your chin, nibbling, “so you’re the only sensei here — are you going to teach me what you’ve learned the last few years?”

And you toy with the top button of his blue button-up, “Oh, I’ll teach you, Kento,” and you’re starting to undo his buttons, as he busies himself undoing yours, “the question is whether you can handle it,”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs in reverence, and his fingers finally undo the buttons, sliding your shirt off your shoulders, eyes raking over your chest — sharp blue gaze lingering on the erect nipples poking through the fabric for your bra, “You’ve always been the one thing I can’t handle,” his mouth leans down, closing around one clothed nipple, while he teased the other with his fingers, and he delights in your gasp, the noise sending heat right down to his already aching cock, “but I’m willing to try, my love,”

“You still love me?” You murmur, as he shrugs off his own shirt, perfect abs teasing into a v-line, all this muscle hidden under his business attire — and you knew he still must work out, and he did. He did in case he ever needed to come back — come back for you.

“Who says I ever stopped?” His nose buried in the nape of your neck now, as his fingers teasingly snap the strap of your bra, “you smell so good, so perfect,” and his fingers undo your bra and it joins the pile of clothes growing on the floor, “there wasn’t a day I didn’t think about you — a night that i didn’t dream of you, that I didn’t want you,”

“Kento—“ you whimper, as he tugs at your skirt, a quick glance for your nod, and he slides it down your legs, bunching at your ankles until you kick it off. Your cheeks burn as he’s kissing your way down your body, his mouth teasing the other nipple he had neglected, trailing hot kisses down your stomach, until he reaches the fabric of your panties, “I need—“

“Been wanting to taste this for so long,” and he’s kneeling between your parted thighs, still calloused fingers parting your plush flesh, tongue flicking over his dry lips at the sight of the dark wet patch at the crotch of your underwear. And you look down at him, eyes glazed over with unadulterated lust that is almost enough to have him cumming in his pants, “so sweet,” he’s murmuring as he noses your clothes cunt, and you jerk, as he pulls the crotch aside, “wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell,”

“Kento—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping cunt, nose bumping against your clit, as your thighs curl around him, pulling him closer, closer — “fuck—“

“Such a filthy mouth,” he tuts, smiling against your cunt as his tongue teases your folds, “almost as filthy as you are down here,” and his finger begins to part your walls, making your thighs shake and quake, his lips close around your clit, sucking.

You’re a mess of moans and pants, hips grinding against his touch, as one hand tries to muffle your moans, the other is curled in his blonde locks, “taste even better than I imagined — just f’me, only for me,” You’re so close, as he parts your folds with another finger, sinking knuckle deep, as his fingers brush against that one spot that has you parting your lips in a silent moan, head thrown back — and the heat deep in your stomach is going to snap.

KNOCK KNOCK.

You both freeze, your cunt jerking around his fingers, as you bite your lip — maybe if you’re silent, they’ll go away— but Kento clicks his tongue, a smile on his glossy cum covered lips, mouthing, “Speak,” and you gape at him, chest still heaving, as you shake your head, before he’s curling his fingers just right.

Fucker.

You hear Gojo’s voice, calling your name, “You in there?”

You swallow thickly, meeting Kento’s gaze — he’s not backing down, “Yeah, sorry I’m in the middle of something — do you need something?”

“I was just wondering if you heard from a certain salaryman, or should I say, ex-salaryman?” the very one that was burying his face back in your still sensitive pussy, slurping and licking, despite Gojo being right outside.

You have to bite back your moans, swallowing them as you speak, “You mean Nana—ah—mi?” And you feel the very same sorcerer smirk against your abused cunt, a third finger finding its way inside you, “ha-haven’t heard from him, and what do mean ‘ex?’”

You do your best at acting, but it’s hard when his mouth closes around your clit, sucking hard, as your fingers curl in his hair, biting your lip so hard, as he fucks your pussy in earnest with his fingers — how can Gojo not hear the nasty squelch of your cunt?

“He left his job. He’s coming back to Jujutsu Tech,” and he takes a beat, “I’ll take my leave,” and he chuckles, “have fun you two, and Nanami?” You feel your face flush, “don’t be too rough with her — we need our best teacher available to teach tomorrow,”

You hear his laugh all the way down the hall, and you’re covering your face — those fucking six eyes — but Kento’s tugging your hands away, “Pay attention to the one who’s filling you, love,” and he’s burying his face in your cunt, fucking you even harder — hitting that spot over and over, until you cum, back arching, as he’s pulling his fingers out to lap up the slick dripping from you, “delicious,” he murmurs, kissing your still sensitive clit, before he’s looking up at you — all fucked out, your chest rising and falling with every pant, your lips kiss ruined red — “and so beautiful,”

His licks his lips clean of your cum, wiping the rest with the back of his hand, as he rises to your feet, “Kento, please,” you’re murmuring, his hands slide over your body, squeezing your hips, “I need you,”

“What do you need—“ and his words are cut off by your fingers reaching for his buckle, the clink of the metal as you undid it, along with the button, tugging his pants and boxers down.

He hisses as his too sensitive dick slaps his stomach, your lips parting, eyes in a trance, “So pretty, Kento,” your fingers traces one of his veins to his already leaking tip, “and so fucking big,” you murmur, teasing the bead of precum on his slit, making him groan, “can’t wait to have this inside me — been waiting ten years,”

And he’s sliding your hand away, pressing his hips flush to yours, as your legs wrap around his waist, “That long huh?” And his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself, “and I thought I was the only one pining,”

“So you admit you were pining for me?” And he laughs, as you smile up at him — like all the times he had hoped you would — “I had a crush from almost the moment I met you,”

“You could have fooled me,” he presses kisses up and down your jaw, drawing a moan from both of you as he teases your puffy clit with his aching tip, “I thought you had a crush on Geto,” and you scoff.

“Geto? So you were jealous of him — that’s why you always had that sour look whenever I studied with him,” you grin even wider, “well you had nothing to worry about - I had a crush on very gloomy boy and no one else ever caught my eye,”

And he softly smiles, and it seems to ebb away the years — the trauma and the tiredness — and left only him, your Kento.

“Is that right?” He asks before kissing you again, his fingers finding the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, as you moaned, muffled by his mouth, “I want—“

“I know, me too, please — don’t keep me waiting any longer,” and how could he refuse a request like that?

He’s sinking into you, thick cock parting your dripping folds until he hilts himself fully in you, his fingers digging your hips — and you’re so full, too full. And you’re perfect — perfect walls wrapped around him, so warm and so tight — it’s enough for him to neatly blow his load then and there.

But he can’t, can’t when he’s waited this long to do this. You’re whimpering, “S’good, Kento, too good,” your walls flutter around him as his hips shift lightly, “please, please move—“ his hands find your legs, lifting them higher to find a better angle, fingers digging into your soft thighs.

And his hips slowly thrust into you, edging you with his shallow thrusts, and you’re whining, “Kento—“

“Look at the mess you’re making all over your desk,” he’s guiding your gaze with two fingers on your chin, making you watch where his cock is sunk into you, “taking me so well, practically swallowing me, good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts, “want it harder? Want me to fuck you?”

Your desk is already creaking under your weights and the movements, you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted, “Kento, please, I need—“ and you watched his cock pull out only to slam back in. Your head falls back, moaning his name again and again.

The squelch of your cunt rang in his ears over and over, as he grunts, barely keeping himself from cumming, especially when you begin to roll your hips into him, “You’re so pretty, and all mine — just mine,” and his lips find yours again, just as your walls flutter at his words, “like that? Like it when I claim you, love with my cock fucking you?” And his vulgar words only makes you tighter, and he grunts, “‘m close, sweetheart,”

“Me too—g’nna cum—“ and his dick reaches that spot right as his thumb bears down on your clit, teasing it in circles, until you’re moaning his name as you cum. Your walls clamp down, soaking his cock, a white ring of cum around his base as he fucks you through your orgasm.

His eyes meet yours as you do, watching your high overcome you, twitching and moaning — and he doesn’t last much longer. His hips stutter against you in shallow thrusts until he’s notching himself deep inside, groaning as he cums, hot seed painting your walls white.

“So perfect,” he murmurs, as he kisses your sweat slicked forehead, “so good,” and he’s grunting as he pulls out, watching your mixed releases trickle out, leaking all over your desk and onto the floor. He drags his cock over your weeping cunt, watching it flutter around nothing.

“Kento,” you murmur, gazing up at him, utterly blissed out as your lips curl, your legs slipping off his waist as he settles down on your desk, “I love you,”

And his heart squeezes — is he dreaming? He must be dreaming — because nothing in his life has ever been so good. So wonderful. So perfect. It didn’t happen for him — it never happened for him.

“I love you too,” he murmurs reverently, his fingers trailing over your jaw, “so much — you don’t know how much, darling,”

“Think you can quantify it for me, Mr. Salaryman?” And he snorts, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t call me that,” he kisses your neck — you smelled so good, were you real?

“Then what should I call you?”

And he wanted to ask you then — ask you to call him your husband, to marry you, to buy that ring he had looked at from time to time when he thought about marrying you. But you just found your way back to each other — hell, he had just slept with you in your office, not even a bed. It was too soon, but — his lips curled — he was closer than he had ever been before. And he wouldn’t wait, he wouldn’t hesitate, not when it was you. He wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers.

He smiles, “Just call me yours.”

~~~~

FIVE.

Today was the day.

He was finally going to ask. That’s what he thought when he looked at you, still in bed, bathed in the dappled sunlight let in by his parted curtains. You were still fast asleep beside him, body curled up so your body was pressed against him. He ran his fingers through your hair gently not to wake you, “I love you,” he murmurs, as opens his bedside drawer, pulling a ring box and notecard from it — and he stares at it.

He’d ask you. He would ask you to marry him — finally take you on that vacation to Malaysia you both had talked about for too long, read all the books you both had put off, and lounge on the beach — and do much more in your hotel room. And then maybe, maybe he could ask you to retire from jujutsu.

He had always promised himself, promised that he wouldn’t be a sorcerer when he got married. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving a family behind to mourn him — but even more than that, he couldn’t bear the thought to lose you, to call you his wife, call you his soulmate — and have you fall away from him.

He would rather be the one to die.

But this way — he rises, grabbing his clothes for the day, and slipping the ring and the note into his coat pocket — neither of you would have to worry about losing the other. At least to a curse.

“Where are we going?” You giggle as he drags you along the street, packed with people, more than usual. He keeps you close, an arm wrapped around you, especially for a Wednesday evening. What date was it? He had seemingly lost track of everything he had planned.

“It’s Halloween,” you remind him without him asking the question, “explains all costumed people and the packed streets — we should definitely avoid Shibuya — the crowds there would be insane,”

“How’d you know—“ and you tap his forehead with a smile.

“I could see your gears grinding, Kento,” you smile, resting your head against his shoulder, “and it’s just like you to forget it’s Halloween,”

“Is it?” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “well good thing I have you to remind me,”

“Very good thing, and I have you to remind me about everything else,” and he nods, and you elbow him, “you don’t have to remind me of that much!”

“You were leaving the house yesterday and you forgot your wallet, keys, and purse — you almost forgot to put on shoes—“ and you’re covering his mouth his your hand.

“How about you remind me about where we’re going?” And he smiles against your hand, before kissing it gently, pulling it from his lips and kissing the back of your hand as well, making you flush.

“Why ruin the surprise—” and then both of your phones ring — the two of you share a dark look, glancing at your phones and seeing the same message — Emergency: veil has fallen over certain areas of Shibuya. All available sorcerers report.

“I guess we are going to Shibuya,” you sigh, running your fingers through your hair, “we should—”

“We should stop by the apartment — we both left all our equipment there and I need to change,” and you nod, as his fingers toy with the ring box in his pocket, a sigh stuck in his throat. When will he ever get the chance to do this right? Finally, he had worked up the nerve and this—this had to happen.

“Hey,” you cup his cheek, a soft smile on your face, “I’m sorry our plans are falling through, and just when I was going to make you give up this secret surprise,”

His lips curl, as his arm pulls you even closer, “I don’t recall agreeing to give up any secrets,” and you lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet quickly turning heady — neither of you were ones for public displays — but for some reason, it just felt right. And you part, breath warming his lips with a wide grin.

“Oh, you would have,” and he laughs, squeezing your hips, as he rests his forehead against yours, “We’ll pick this up right after we deal with this problem.”

He nodded, leaning down to kiss you again and again, his fingers still toying with the box in his pocket. And he wanted to ask right then, just drop to his knee in the middle of this packed street full of costumed weirdos and freaks, mission be damned, jujutsu be damned — but he didn’t want to do it like this.

He wanted it to be a time where both of you were safe, where you could celebrate without the fear of danger beating down your necks, where he could talk to you, hold you, kiss you — without fear it would be the last. Because he always wondered when it would be the last. But it wouldn’t be — he’d do anything to make it back, to finally take that step with you, the one he’d been waiting for over ten years to take. Take that vacation you both wanted with his ring on your finger, and retirement from Jujutsu around the corner.

And he squeezes your hand, “Promise?” and you lean into him, pulling him along the street back to your shared apartment.

“Promise.”

~~~

He wouldn’t be able to keep his promise.

That’s what kept repeating in his mind with every step he took. He couldn’t really feel much — not anymore. That special grade curse had burned him — burned half of his body to a crisp, he could barely smell the burning flesh anymore. All he could do was keep moving. Moving. Moving. Moving.

But he didn’t want to move anymore — he was tired. So tired. He couldn’t feel much, but he could feel the weight of having to keep going, even if he didn’t want to.

And now, he stands before a swarm of…curses? Transfigured humans? He didn’t know — he could barely see at this point out of his one remaining eye — he could barely keep it open, still drooping even as the monsters loomed before him.

“Malaysia…Yeah, Malaysia…Kuantan would have been nice,” the recommendation he had gotten from Mei Mei when trying to decide on a vacation for you and him to take — who better to ask than the woman with all the time and money in the world, a little brother who’d take her anywhere she wished. You both had settled on Malaysia, still panning out the details of when, but he had planned to surprise you with open ended tickets for the both of you — paid extra for them, in case something came up.

He almost chuckles. Something always came up.

Maybe if you both had liked it enough, he’d have a private home built for the two of you — with the little library nook you always dreamed of having, finally getting around to reading the countless books you both had bought and never read, go through page by page and take back the time you both have lost.

But right now each step felt like an eternity as he walked.

Where was he going again? Oh yes, to help Fushiguro. And what about Naobito and Maki? What had happened to them? There wasn’t much he could do about that.

Tired. He was so tired. I’ve done enough, haven’t I?

Hadn’t he done enough? He thought he had done enough when he left — left it all behind like a nightmare he didn’t care to revisit. Left the loss, the pain, the anger — the curses really — all behind him, in exchange for another set — greed, money, power. What was really the best option? Had he made the right choice?

But then he thought about you.

Your smiles, your touch, your kisses, your laughs — all the times he spent with you — slow mornings spent reading the paper together over coffee and toast from the bakery you always went out of your way to buy his favorites from; lazy evenings spent watching movies or reading, your legs intertwined as you did, his arm around your shoulders, until you plucked the book from his fingers made it so you were only thing his eyes were on; and sleepless but perfect nights spent in each other’s arms. The many times he wanted to ask you — the one question he never got to ask you still burned on the tip of his tongue like a curse unspoken, and he knew if he spoke it now, it would be one.

And so he did what he did best, he dispatched the curses, quick and easy. And his lips curled despite himself — at the thought of you. He could almost feel your lips on his still from earlier, the sweet scent of you instead of the smell of blood or burning flesh, he could almost see you too.

A hand rested on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

Mahito stared back at him.

Oh. Oh.

It was over.

I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry I can’t keep my promise. I’m sorry I can’t propose. I’m sorry I can’t marry you. I’m sorry I can’t have the life we wanted. I’m sorry I came back only to leave you with the worst curse of them all.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Nanami says, staring back at the curse — and it reminds of that time — that time Mahito had him in his domain, he truly had resigned himself to death. Resigned himself to die — and then Itadori had come crashing in, crashing in as he did his life, saving him. Saving him by not only by his very existence as Sukuna’s vessel, but by just his sheer strength.

That kid had really grown on him — he didn’t want him to. Not when he had the same positivity, the same smile, the same kindness…as Haibara. It was illogical. He wasn’t Haibara — he was Sukuna’s vessel, and he wouldn’t acknowledge him, he wouldn’t until he proved himself. But he’d protect him, and he would do what he could. Because being a child isn’t a sin — but perhaps, being a jujutsu sorcerer is one.

“Yup. The whole time,” Mahito replies, lips upturned in a slight smile, “Wanna chat? We go way back, after all,”

Nanami’s eyes shift to the floor, the muddied and bloodied tiles underneath his feet — he didn’t care to divulge his deepest feelings to a curse. There were only two people he could talk to about this — and one of them, he supposed, was now closer to his being than the other.

Haibara, what the hell was I trying to do? He asks in his mind, not even daring to say the words aloud, I ran. Even though I ran away, I came back with the vague reason of finding the work worthwhile.

And then he sees him. Haibara appears in front of him, patented smile on his lips, as he points south — points right at—

“Itadori,” Mahito says, his eyes narrowing.

“Nanamin!” his eyes wide as he takes in his state — oh, he had hoped no one would see him like this, much less Yuji. He had already been through so much, so young — hell, he had already died once. He didn’t deserve to see this. He didn’t deserve to grow up like this — to have his youth ripped away. But, did any of them deserve it?

It was a marathon, a marathon that they found themselves in that headed only towards a pile of corpses — but each time, they had to pass the baton before they stopped.

Could he finally stop?

He had dropped his baton so long ago, dropped and left the track, but he knew it would be picked up by another and another and another — but it was his baton, his baton that Haibara had handed him before he died in his arms.

No, Haibara. That’s not right. I can’t say that to him. It’ll just end up becoming a curse for him.

But it’s a curse every jujutsu sorcerer had to bear — made to bear until there were either no curses or no sorcerers left.

But he couldn’t regret it now.

“Itadori,” his lips curl, smiling for the last time, “you’ve got it from here.”

He couldn’t keep his promise to you — but he kept his one to Haibara.

And you’d pay the price.

~~~

This wasn’t real. Was it?

You stood outside your shared apartment with Kento. Finally a stop to the fighting for a month for everyone to train — enough time for you to retrieve some cursed weapons you had left behind — not knowing the fight would drag on for this long. You had considering sending someone — maybe not Ijichi but someone else to retrieve them, but right now, you couldn’t bear the thought of someone else rifling through Kento’s things. Moving the things that he had placed just so — the last remnants of his life, the marks he left that proved he was there, that he lived — that he had lived.

Lived. Past tense. And now you were still living — living in a world without him.

You inserted your key and turned the lock, opening the door. And it did, just like it had every day. Each day you’d open it — sometimes before Kento, other days after — but each time, there was always a meal Kento had prepped or bought waiting for you.

And this was the first time that there wasn’t.

Not only a meal — there was no one waiting for you. Not here.

You closed the door behind you — no longer a home, just an apartment. You needed to remember the things you needed, your mind was nowhere to be found, and fled the country when you had heard the news. You didn’t cry. Not at first.

Yuji was the one to tell you. He shouldn’t have been the one to see it. You knew it haunted his dreams, you knew he blamed himself, you knew — because Kento had done the same. So you hugged him, let him cry silently into your shirt, comforted him the best you could — because you knew that’s what Kento would have wanted.

He loved Yuji — he loved Ino too, and the other students all held a special place for him, but Yuji — Yuji was a special case. You knew that from the moment he had spoken about him.

“Gojo wants me to mentor Sukuna’s vessel,” he told you one night in bed, having returned from a mission and having a drink with Gojo — not a real drink, Kento had clarified, since it had no alcohol in it — but a drink nonetheless.

“He has a name, Kento. Itadori. He’s sweet,” you smile, you had met him and all the other first years from teaching, “he’s a good kid — very new to all of this, but he has a good heart and some good skills under his belt.”

“A vessel for the ticking time bomb has a good heart? Glad to hear it,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair, “I don’t know — he was a normal kid two minutes ago, and now he’s running around with Gojo feeding him Sukuna’s fingers every second,” he leans back against the headrest, “what am I supposed to make of this? I’m not even a teacher,”

“And what have you been doing with Ino?” you raise an eyebrow, “that kid is constantly after you, dogging your every step — he looks up to you. “And I know a lot of the other students do too, the ones that know you,”

“It’s—”

“You should do this. It would be good for you,” and he’s hesitating, “Yuji needs a sorcerer to guide him — teach him the basics that Gojo has neglected to do, and show him how a proper jujutsu sorcerer who isn’t…a special case like Gojo, operates.”

Kento’s lips curl, “You know you can call him a moron,”

“Why call him that when I have you to call him that for me?” you snort, “now what do you say?”

And he eventually agreed — and it was the best decision for him. It gave him more purpose, more drive — he seemed even more fulfilled — the most you had seen him professionally fulfilled in quite some time.

“You got it from here.”

His last words to Yuji. You almost have to scoff at the poeticness of it all — the same words Haibara had told him. The ones he hadn’t told you for nearly a decade, until one night he had told you what he said.

“And why didn’t you leave any words for me, Kento?” you ask the empty apartment before you, “for so long, we didn’t have each other — we couldn’t. And we finally find our way back, we finally do all the things we said we would — you’re gone, again,” your voice breaks, “I wish, I wish you were here. I wish I could see you. I wish—” and you break off.

There’s no point for wishing for things that can’t happen. You had things to do, and little time to waste. You needed to get stronger too. You needed to be useful. You needed to fight. You couldn’t tarnish Kento’s memory, or — you look at a picture that you had taken of him and Yuji a few days before outside a convenience store you had stopped by after a mission — his legacy.

You searched for the things you needed, placing them in cloth bags and then paper bags for easy and inconspicuous transport, but you needed to label them. You searched your apartment for a pen — but apparently you had misplaced every single one that you had — where the hell were all the pens? A question you’d usually ask Kento and he’d produce one from thin air. No matter what you lost or what you needed — he had it.

He always had it.

If he did always have what you needed, then maybe…you walk into the bedroom, over to his nightstand — he often kept a notebook for thoughts and notes in his bedside table so maybe—-

And there it was — a pen, but it wasn’t the pen that made you pause — it was the two things beside it.

A notecard and a ring box.

A ring box.

Your hands shake, and you almost want to close the drawer. Forget you say anything. Continue with the work you’re doing. It would hurt less.

But you can’t. You can’t.

You reach for the notecard first, fingers shaking as you gingerly pick it up — and you can tell this wasn’t the first he had written on. You could see the indentations from his pen, this card underneath the others as he had wrote. But his handwriting was neat, yet messy at the same time — his patented half print, half cursive scrawl that he hadn’t left.

Your legs buckle and you sit down on the edge of the bed — the side he used to sleep on, his arm wrapped around your waist, face buried in your back, his lips brushing against your skin when he finally stirred. And now it was empty.

My love, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to ask you this. I’ve thought of ways to ask for years — I had to write it down just so I didn’t mince my words or ramble — you know I’m not one to drag out conversations. I love you. I’ve always loved you from the moment I met you — I know you’d tease me for pining for you, but I did pine for you and I’ve pined for you every second we’re apart. The other times I’ve wanted to ask you, the timing never worked out. But we have the time now, don’t we? Will you do me the honor of being your husband? I’ll spend every second making you happy, because that’s what you deserve, sweetheart. Only the best.

And your tears splatter against the corner of the card, before you put it down, as you let your sobs overcome you, screams you didn’t know you were capable of making— you didn’t even realize it was you, until your throat began to ache.

Why? Why? Why?

It wasn’t real, this wasn’t happening.

And your fingers reach for the ring box now, opening it only to feel more tears well — it was the ring you had showed him. One you had showed him one late night when it had showed up somewhere or another — you hadn’t even thought about the ring again. Until now.

You can’t bear to touch it. You can’t. Not when he wasn’t there to pull it from its box and slip it onto your finger. And he never would be. Not until you saw him again — one way or another.

You snap the box closed, tears slipping down your cheeks as you placed the box and card back into the drawer — noticing something else underneath — a printout? And you pull the papers out, scanning it.

You almost sob. A trip to Kuantan, Malaysia. The trip you two had talked about for months, but never had gone on. The trip was more for Kento than it was for you — and it was for you, in a way, because what you wanted the most was to just be with him. Time was all you wished for with him — all you wanted — but you knew you could have spent every moment with him for the last ten years and it wouldn’t have been enough.

It would never have been enough.

“I miss you,” you speak to the ghosts that fill your mind and haunt your dreams — Kento and Yu, “I hope you’re at peace. I hope you’re lying on a beach somewhere, reading the books you wanted to read, drinking an expensive drink, and eating the bread you love — I promise, I’ll find my way to you, someday,”

And you place the things back in the drawer, and shut it.

For now, you had other things to do. Other people to protect, other curses to exorcise. But — you stare at the picture of the two of you on your nightstand — his love was the one curse you could never give up.

Many months later.

You take that vacation he wanted. Packing the books he always wanted to read. Pocketing the ring he wanted to propose to you with. You’d pack a few shirts of his to wear on the beach, and maybe he would be lying beside you in spirit. You would find that beach he wanted to take you to — the one he had written down and had looked up several times while booking your trip.

You kept the seat beside you on the plane empty but you ordered a glass of wine and a sandwich for him regardless. You know you would have ended up ordering because he likely would have fallen asleep — old man he always was. And if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was sitting in the seat beside you.

He wasn’t dead. Not really, you think as you sit in the beach in one of his deep blue button ups thrown over your swimsuit, reading one of his books page by page, taking back the time that was stolen from him with your own — minutes and hours and days you’d wish you could take off your own and give to him.

He was alive, he was alive as long as you were, as long as the people who he was important to were alive. And he was alive — alive in your head and your heart and your very soul.

You read his proposal aloud as the sun sets, tears slipping down your face as you slip his ring onto your finger. And there it would stay.

Stayed all the seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years you lived -- lived in the house you built in Malaysia when all was said and done for you in the jujutsu world, just as Kento had wanted. Stayed until you finally saw him again. Saw him standing beside Haibara, softly smiling behind him, as your eyes fluttered open as he greeted you. Lips curled in that same smile that damned you from the moment you saw it.

“Don’t keep me waiting, love,” he smiles, the same words you had said to him, “we’ve both waited long enough, haven’t we?”

But neither of you had to wait anymore — as you run into his arms, warm and made of flesh and blood and real, so real — you had forever now.

✴︎ a/n: first, i'm so sorry lol. i don't know how the spirit of gege possessed me but i decided to inflict some pain. i have to thank @laneysmusings for proofing this for me and having to endure this pain. I also want to credit @/tempenensis for their post on haibara / jjk 120 that helped inspire/inform the third to last scene (but they don't like self-insert so i am not gonna tag them, but you should check out their tumblr!

✴︎ taglist: @your-local-simplol, @renawithane, @grooveandshit, @aemondseyesocket, @nitskilanara, @yunchans, @ackermanbby, @luminouslateralup, @multi-fandom3, @idktbhloley, @minteaful, @malleusmybelovedd, @lighttism, @lemonpoppy-seed, @nitskilanara, @wshwshi, @rreborn, @reyy-chanx, @kiradoki, @uroldall, @madam-milf, @elusivemoon

#sab [mlist]#nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #nanami fanfiction #kento nanami angst #jjk angst #nanami x you #nanami x reader

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felassan · 4 years ago

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Article: ‘The Most Powerful Woman in Gaming Wants to Make EA Loved Again’

Laura Miele is helping direct the company toward a future where it’s more attuned with consumers.

One of the first things Laura Miele did when she became chief studios officer of Electronic Arts Inc. three years ago was to gather 19 video game influencers in a conference room. “What do you want me to hear? Lay it on me,” she recalls asking them. “One guy sitting at the corner of the table, he just said, ‘I don’t understand why you don’t give players what they’re asking for.’ ”

[rest of article under cut for length, pasted as Bloomberg has an article read limit]

It’s something many gamers have wondered about EA for years. The $40 billion company, one of the biggest in gaming, is responsible for Battlefield, Madden NFL, and other megahit franchises. But many gamers have long seen EA as a necessary evil, resenting the direction in which it took some games and bristling at its aggressive attempts to extract money by charging extra for digital items in games that cost as much as $70 upfront. This dissatisfaction was no secret in 2018: Gamers spent their days filling up Reddit and other message boards with free advice for EA—but many felt its decision-makers weren’t listening.

EA’s leadership knows it has to improve that relationship, and Miele is a key player in its efforts to do so. Her focus group asked for new content for Star Wars Battlefront II and requested new types of games. Miele quickly assigned 70 people to the Battlefront development project, which dramatically improved its net promoter score, a measure of how likely people are to recommend the game. She also prompted EA to create a skateboarding game and committed to reintroducing its college football franchise, the two genres at the top of the influencers’ list.

In a sense, the guy at the meeting became a stand-in for all of EA’s long-suffering customers in Miele’s eyes. “I wanted to do right by this player,” she says.

As chief studios officer, Miele manages 6,000 staffers and thousands of contractors globally. She oversees EA’s 24 studios, where she makes personnel decisions and sets strategy, and she’s reshaped how the company uses analytics to create and market its games.

In the process she may have become the most powerful woman in gaming. In a 2019 International Game Developers Association survey, fewer than 30% of the more than 1,100 respondents were women, and few if any hold a more central role at such an important company. “It’s a tough place for a woman,” says Peter Moore, who was Miele’s boss when he was EA’s chief operating officer. “It wasn’t always smooth sailing, but she battled her way through.”

Proving good intentions is more important for EA than ever, as the business model of gaming continues to shift in ways that have the potential to alienate customers. Like its rivals, the company is increasing its focus on free-to-play games, making money through sales of digital products such as outfits and weapons for characters.

There are signs it’s succeeding. Apex Legends, EA’s free-to-play hero shooter game, has posted more than $1 billion in sales since it was first published in 2019, and it continues to grow. “The way to succeed with free-to-play games like that is to listen to and engage your customer base and earn their loyalty through incremental purchases,” says Doug Clinton, managing partner of the venture capital firm Loup Ventures, who says Miele deserves much of the credit for Apex Legends. “It feels like a proof point for her that the company is adapting well beyond traditional disk sales.”

Miele, 51, was born in San Francisco but grew up on the north shore of Lake Tahoe. She got her start in games—the kind that require a board—during family nights, when she pitted herself against her brother in Monopoly, Clue, Yahtzee, and backgammon. While attending the University of Nevada at Las Vegas, she worked at architectural companies. By the time she dropped out she’d moved on from receptionist positions to more senior roles, while gaining a reputation for organizing lunch-hour card games with her co-workers.

Miele landed a job as a project manager at Westwood Studios, a video game developer best known for Command and Conquer, in 1996. She eventually took over all marketing for its parent company, Virgin Interactive.

It wasn’t always a hospitable atmosphere: Miele remembers her colleagues expecting her to take notes at meetings, then clean up afterward. “That is just not something I would do today,” she says. “I adapted a lot because I was so passionate about what I was doing. I found my voice along the way.”

When EA acquired Westwood in 1998, she stayed on. At the time, the company did revenue forecasting by looking at sales data once a month and putting together spreadsheets by hand. Miele was tasked with developing more advanced analytics. She hired a group of data analysts, nicknamed “the Jedi,” and had them build EA’s first statistical regression models to examine sales trends, seasonality, and preorders. It took almost two years to put the system in place, but it overhauled the company’s business processes, and executives were soon using it to determine how to invest in advertising and promotions. “I loved how data and analytics can inform your judgment and your gut instinct,” Miele says.

Miele also decided to make one major break with EA’s existing business practices. In 2011 about 80% of game advertising budgets were spent on TV ads. But she saw how much time gamers spent online and decided to spend the bulk of the ad budget for Battlefield 3 on digital, downplaying other types of ads and cutting the TV ad budget to only 30%.

Messing around with the plan for Battlefield 3 was a good way to make people nervous. Miele remembers two executives calling her in for a meeting and demanding to know why they weren’t seeing billboards for the game as they drove in to the office. “It was scary for me, too, and I don’t blame our executives questioning me on that,” she says. But the game ended up being EA’s fastest-selling, moving more than 5 million copies in its first week. From that point, Miele’s marketing strategy became the standard for the company.

When EA signed a 10-year deal with Walt Disney Co. in 2013, Miele became Star Wars general manager. In 2014 she took over publishing operations, marketing, and other key areas, first in the North American region, then globally in 2016. At the time, the game industry was moving from physical disks to digital downloads, transforming its relationship with retail partners such as Walmart Inc. and Best Buy Co.

Miele was in charge of smoothing things over, explaining that EA would start competing with them for customers even as the retailers accounted for the largest portion of the revenue. “I never said to them, ‘Hey, see you later, we are moving on,’ ” she says. “It was, ‘How can we move forward together?’ ” EA began making physical cards with digital credits that its retail partners could sell at their stores, allowing them to share in the revenue from digital sales.

EA’s studios are spread around the globe, and Covid-19 altered Miele’s routine radically. “It was a very difficult year, and I’m really proud about how our company showed up,” she says. “I considered myself a wartime leader last year. You had to get in a bunker with everybody.”

Days became an endless progression of Zoom calls. To keep up with gamers, Miele started spending evenings listening to Clubhouse chats while answering work emails. Because she hasn’t been on the road, she’s also had more time to dine at home and play board games or Apex Legends and The Sims with her 16-year-old twins. As the pandemic retreats in the U.S., her schedule might change, but she still envisions providing more flexibility to her employees to work from home and office. “I do think we’re going to have a different work environment as we go forward,” she says.

Miele is itching to get back to the studio visits. She’s helping steer EA further toward smartphones. The company plans to release mobile versions of Apex Legends globally this year and spent $2.1 billion in April for Glu Mobile Inc., a mobile game publisher, while also preparing the next releases in its existing franchises. “I think the next Battlefield and the mobile shooter games, along with how successful the M&As come out will be key litmus tests of her management this year,” says Matt Kanterman, an analyst with Bloomberg Intelligence. “Her scope is clearly rising.”

— With Dina Bass and Jason Schreier

[source]

#video games #interesting..#long post #longpost

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ms-rampage · 4 years ago

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Eden’s Gate: The Mother Chapter 1 - Hope County

Warnings: Some swearing

Word count: 1.8k

Where it all began.

Summary: Mandy Winchester, a single mother who lost custody of her 2 teenage daughters 4 months earlier passes through Hope County, Montana that has been liberated by a doomsday Cult. Upon arrival in Hope County she catches the attention of a certain Leader.

Guest OCs: None

Guest Characters: Archangel Raphael (Supernatural), Chuck/God [mentioned]

Note: This takes place in 2012. Supernatural & Far Cry 5 crossover.

*********

*Ace of Spades by Motorhead plays over the radio*

If you like to gamble, I tell you I’m you man

You win some, you lose some, all the same to me

41 year old Mandy Winchester drives down the road entering Hope County, Montana.

Passing through to get some gas, food, maybe some beer and rest.

Drumming her fingers along with the song on the wheel, singing along with the song.

The pleasure is to play, makes no difference what you say

I don’t share your greed, the only card I need is the Ace of Spades

The Ace of Spades .

Playing for the high one, dancing with the devil.

Going with the flow, it’s all a game to me.

Driving down the countryside road.

Seven or eleven, snake eyes watching you

Double up, or quit, double stake, or split-

Not even halfway through the song, the radio cuts out with static. Changing it to some depressing Christian music.

“What the hell?!?” she says, trying to fix the radio.

When none of that helps, she shuts it off. Driving in silence.

She was told she had to go to Hope County by Archangel Raphael. He didn’t say much on why she had to go.

All that she had to protect a certain man.

Because “God was gonna speak with him, or that God spoke with him about the end”. Something like that.

She doesn’t even know this man’s name, or what he looks like. But he did say that she’ll know when she sees him. Her gut will tell her, that still didn’t help. She thought she was wasting her time, she could’ve been looking for her husband’s killer, but Raphael said that this will “help her with what she needed” whatever that meant.

She drives down the road in the Henbane River.

Nothing unusual, seems like a normal country town. She pulls into the Misty River Gas station. Getting out, putting gas into her truck.

A quiet town. She knows her daughters would’ve loved it here. As gas is being pumped into her truck, she looks around.

“Passing through?!” a man’s voice asks from behind her.

She turns around to face him, “Yeah, I’m here on business”.

He nods, “Well be careful. There’s a lot of crazies here”.

She chuckles, “Don’t worry”, she pulls out her .45 pistol, “I got that covered”.

He nods his head, smiling, “Well that’s a good start”.

She takes the pump of her truck putting back in the gauge.

“Where can I find a place to eat?!” she asks him.

“Well you can go to the Spread Eagle bar that's over in Holland Valley, 8 Bit Pizza, Aubrey’s Diner or Whistling Beaver Brewery they’re here in Henbane, or you can go to the Grill Steak that’s over in the Whitetail Mountains”.

Mandy nods her head, “Which one do you prefer?!?”.

He takes a moment, “I would say Spread Eagle”.

She nods her head again, “Alright I’ll check it out. Thanks”.

“No problem. Have a nice day ma’am” he says, going back inside the gas station.

Mandy takes off down the road. Crossing over a bridge leading to Holland Valley.

“Okay where is this place?!” she asks herself.

Driving through Falls End, she spots the bar. Parking her truck outside. She walks in to it with the smell of chicken wings, and whiskey. Looking around the bar, its not too busy, not too slow, she takes a seat at the bar.

A blonde young woman behind the bar approaches her.

“What can I get you hon?”

Mandy looks down at the menu attached to the bar counter.

“Uhh, I’ll have Guinness, and some chicken wings. Buffalo sauce on the side please. Thank you”.

She gives her order to the cook, and gives her a bottle of Guinness.

“You’re not from around here are you?!” she asks.

Shaking her head, “No, I’m just here on business” she answers.

“What kind of business? If you don’t mind me asking” she asks.

“FBI” she replies.

She raises her eyebrows, “Really?”.

She laughs, “No, I’m joking. I’m just passing through”.

“I see you got a sense of humor. We need that around here” she says, cleaning glasses.

“What’s it like around here?!’ Mandy asks, before taking a sip of her beer.

“It’s quiet. But beware there’s a Cult growing here” she says.

“A Cult?!” she questions.

“Yep, they’ve been growing, kidnapping people to join, stealing property.”

“What about the police?! What are they doing about it?!?” she asks.

Mary May scoffs, “They ain’t doing fucking shit. We have to fend for ourselves”.

“I’m Mary May by the way"

“Mandy” she says.

“Nice to meet you Mandy” she greets.

She gives Mandy her food, and she eats them, while chatting with Mary.

“So what’s this Cult?!” she asks.

“They’re called the Project at Eden’s Gate”

“A religious cult. They’re the worst” she jokes.

“This Cult ain’t no joke. They’ve kidnapped people, forcing them out of their homes, taking over businesses, killing innocent people if they refuse to join them” Mary tells her, while cleaning the counter, “They’ve tried taking my bar. My father’s bar. I did everything I could to protect this place”.

They talk for another hour, and a few beers later, Mandy leaves for a motel in the Henbane River that Mary May had recommended, King’s Hot Springs Hotel, to get some shut eye.

She planned on leaving the next day, but unfortunately due to the Cult, she’s trapped in Hope County. Now she has a reason to “protect” this man who is living in Hope County. Doesn’t know his name, what he looks like, none of that shit.

While driving back to the Henbane, on her way to the hotel, she slams on the brakes to her truck. When three bald people run in front of her truck. Looking like they escaped a mental asylum.

“Oh shit!!!” she yells, slamming on the brake pedal. That scared the living shit out of her.

“What the fuck?!?” she says under her breath.

She continues her drive to the hotel. Arriving at the hotel, she walks in, goes up to the front desk

She’s able to get a room, despite all the Cultists running around and stealing properties.

Mandy’s showers, and goes to sleep.

Figuring out who this person Raphael told her about in the morning. In the middle of the night around 1:30am, a loud crash sound of glass breaking from downstairs in the lobby wakes her up.

Gun shots, and the sound of bodies dropping. Making her room windows vibrate. Heavy footsteps, moving up the stairs. She reaches over to her nightstand, and grabs her pistol.

Waiting for whoever that broke in, to break into her room.

After a few minutes, her bedroom door bursts open, and before they could even take a step in, and see her.

She fires two bullets at them, one in each of their skulls. Killing them both.

“What the fuck?!?” she mutters.

She checks them both, and one of them as an usual symbol on their forehead.

“What the fuck is that?!?” she asks herself, examining the symbol. She has never seen anything like it before.

She moves the bodies out of her room, and into the hallway away from her door.

She tries to go back to sleep, but fails to do so. Staying up, listening to every little sound. The sun finally comes up, Mandy gets dressed, and goes downstairs.

The clerk that checked her in is dead, the bellhop is dead.

A few people that were staying there are dead.

She quickly leaves the hotel, and drives towards Aubrey’s Diner for something to eat. On the drive there she sees that same exact symbol on a billboard.

“What the hell is that damn symbol?!?” she asks out loud to herself.

She pulls up to the diner, and it’s been taken over by Cultists.

“Are you fucking serious?!?” she says.

She drives away, and pulls over to the side of the road, near a huge field with cattle. She sighs, closes her eyes and prays to Archangel Raphael.

“Hey Raphael, it's me Mandy Winchester. You told me to come to Hope County, Montana to protect some man. You didn’t even tell me his name, or tell me what he looks like. So get your feather ass down here, and give me that information!!”.

After a few minutes of silence, she’s about to start her truck and drive away when the fluttering of feathers, and the Archangel appears in her passenger seat.

“Well it’s about time!” she says.

“You prayed for me?!” he asks.

She nods, “Yeah, you told me to come here to protect some man. I don’t know from who, or from what. But you told me I needed to protect him because of Chuck”.

Raphael sighs, “His name is Joseph Seed. You can’t miss him, he wears yellow sunglasses, and is often shirtless. A very distinguished character”.

Mandy shrugs, “Okay where would I find Joseph Seed?!”.

“His compound. The middle island between the Whitetails, and Henbane. The one that's all fenced up” he says.

“Okay, so what do I do?!” she asks.

“You’ll have to wait” he says.

“For what?!”.

“For him to approach, or ask for you. God has mentioned you to him” he tells her.

“Why would Chuck say that to him?!” she asks, concerned.

“He didn’t say. All he said to Joseph was that “A woman will make herself clear to you, and will be your guide”. That’s all he said to me, but I’m sure he said more to Joseph”.

Mandy sighs in frustration, “Great, so what do I do?!. Just sit around, and wait for him to notice me?!”.

“God will tell him of your arrival” he tells her.

“So when I do meet him, what do I say to him?!?. “I’m here to protect you?!”, or “God sent me?!”, what do I tell him?!”.

“Whatever Joseph says to you. Go with it. It is important that you protect him. From death, being arrested, anything that’ll cause him to be gone, or in danger”.

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

Joseph’s compound

The Church of Eden’s Gate just finished having their sermon, spoken by The Father Joseph Seed.

God has been speaking to him, about the arrival of a particular woman that will guide the Project to the gates of Eden. After the sermon, Joseph gets lost in a trance, lost in his visions, he closes his eyes, the voice speaking to him.

Telling him, “She has arrived, she is here. She will show herself. The Mother will guide you, and your flock to the New World”.

Mandy’s face shows in Joseph’s mind. Her smile, driving in her truck, filling it up, eating at the Spread Eagle, checking into the King’s Hot Springs Hotel, and killing one of his followers.

“Father?, Father Joseph? Are you okay?” one of his followers asks.

He opens his eyes. “Yes my child. It was just a vision" he responds.

“A vision?” they ask.

“Yes, she has arrived. The Mother has arrived” he answers, turning to face them.

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moonrisemagick · 5 years ago

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Past Life Spread

I’m baaaaack! This time with a spread inspired by my irl friend @wingedscribe who was asking about my past life reading process. I figured I’d share my spread with you all as well! The positions will be named after Jungian archetypes because, you know, we’re doing soul searching and Jung is famous for that, and also because I’m Like That. Without further ado, let’s get into it!

1. The Syzygy: This archetype represents the non-gendered combination of the anima and the animus, both of which are meant to represent the hidden, unconscious “true self”. This position is therefore about who your past self was at their core! What kind of person were you? What were your personality traits and values? What parts of you were generated by “nature”?

2. The Parent: This archetype is meant to be a combination of the “mother” and “father” archetypes, which have to do with discipline and nurturing respectively. This position represents the environment in which your past self was raised. What was the political climate like? Where in the world were you? Which parts of you were generated by “nurture”?

3. The Child: This archetype is self explanatory, and represents your inner innocence and youth. True to form, this position represents what your past self’s early years were like. What kind of a childhood did they have? What sorts of things helped build up their personality? What is leading up to the main conflict in their lives?

4+5. The Shadow: This archetype represents the darker aspects of one’s personality (the other side of one’s coin, so to speak). These darker aspects can range from negative personality traits to traumas you carry with you. For this reason, these two crossed cards represent the main conflict of this past life. What forces were working for and against you? What were you fighting for?

6. The Hero: This archetype represents the overcoming of obstacles in the effort to achieve a goal. Think of the twelve labors of Hercules. This position represents the resolution of the main conflict. How did things shake out? What was the climax of your narrative? How did the remaining years of your life play out as a result?

7. The Sage: This archetype is the opposite of the child, and represents the wisdom that comes with age and experience. This position represents the lesson to be learned from this life. What was the main take away here? What did you end up gaining, or losing?

8. The Self: This archetype represents the joining of conscious and unconscious into one unified being and the creation the true unfiltered self. For this reason, this position represents the connection between the past life and your current life. Why did this life resonate with you at this time? What lessons is your past self trying to impart through this reading?

Find some tips for getting the most out of this deck under the cut, and check out more of my posts here!

Reading Tips: This deck works with both tarot and oracle cards, though I typically use it with tarot cards. I’d imagine you could use it for runes as well. As always, the position descriptions are more guidelines than actual comments. Here are a few more tips for getting the most out of this spread:

Positions 6 and 8 can be inverted, so that the reading pattern looks more like a circle. This is useful for people who are looking for a reading meant to be protective or healing in some way because it attracts the positive energy of clockwise motion Reading it in a “Z” as laid out above is good for readings that have to do with information gathering or fun since this pattern mimics the movement of a dowsing rod or pendulum, which can lead to you getting a more in-depth read. I tend to read it like a “Z” most of the time for that reason.

If you don’t want to deal with trying to figure out how reversed cards represent aspects of personality, I would recommend flipping all the cards so they lay horizontally. This way, you force the cards into their upright meanings. This is helpful for beginning readers or people who don’t particularly want to get absolutely annihilated when they came for a quick past life read.

#my spreads #tarot #tarot spreads #tarot reading #divination #witchcraft #witch #witches #past lives #past life #Past Life Reading #past life spread #past life readings #rune spread #runes #oracle #oracle cards #oracle readings #Oracle Spreads

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sunbeams-and-honey · 4 years ago

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Past-Present-Future Pick A Card Reading

Right so this is my first one of these so we'll see how this goes. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't, and remember that your reading may not make sense until later on. Be patient. Feedback is much appreciated though.

This reading is a three-card past-present-future spread. Feel free to use the cards I pulled to then do your own research on what they mean. My interpretation of the cards might not resonate but another interpretation might. Remember to keep an open mind.

I would like you to visualise in your mind the numbers 1-5. Perhaps close your eyes if that helps you. Out of those, I want you to pick the one that stands out to you for whatever reason. If your gut is telling you to pick a certain number, pick that number. Then look under the cut and scroll down to find the corresponding reading.

PILE 1:

Past - Nine of Wands (Reversed)

Present - The Hierophant (Reversed)

Future - Five of Cups (Upright)

There may have been a period in your life where you were wholely invested in completing a specific project or reaching a particular goal. In the end, you did succeed in what you were trying to accomplish, but not without a cost. It left you emotionally hurt and if you haven't been taking extra care of yourself since then, I would highly recommend doing so. Believe me when I say you deserve it.

A new style of living and/or belief system may be taking hold right now. This could be anything from a lifestyle improvement or new self-care regime, to something as big as converting to a new religion or taking up witchcraft. Whatever it is, it's benefiting you and motivating you in a positive light. Make use of what it's giving you. However, remember not to dive head-first into anything. Give it time and thought first and take it slow.

Not to scare you, but something big is coming, and you may be completely missing the signs. It's bound to involve some kind of conflict and/or loss and it may change your life. That being said, you will make it out in one piece. It will actually help you to grow and better yourself in the long run, so keep that in mind.

PILE 2:

Past - Page of Pentacles (Upright)

Present - Three of Cups (Reversed)

Future - Seven of Pentacles (Reversed)

You may have previously been in a period of immaturity and/or instability. I'm happy to tell you that you are past this now, and are moving into a period of growth. You are intelligent with matters of finance. You may have just advanced in a social group or at work, and quite rightly too. If you recently started a new project, finish it, even if it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Overall, if you've been looking for a good sign, then this is it.

Speaking of projects, you may have just finished one, perhaps one that took a great deal of effort. Treat yourself! You deserve it after all of your hard work. It may not be clear now, but you will reap the rewards within the rest of this year.

Another kind of success is just around the corner for you, but it will take work for you to earn it. The rewards are bound to be positive and almost crazy. Overall, this pile is very positive so I want you to remember that you deserve every good thing coming your way, and trust me when I say there's a lot of them.

PILE 3:

Past - Ten of Cups (Upright)

Present - Six of Cups (Reversed)

Future - Ace of Cups (Upright)

Your confidence and integrity have proved useful and beneficial to you in the past. These are invaluable skills to have so try not to take them for granted. Thanks to them, you have come far and grown as a person.

Right now, you may be finding yourself reminiscing about the past often. Maybe a little too often. You may think that your best days are behind you, but I'm here to tell you that you're wrong. The past is full of good days but good ones are still to come, remember that. What you're doing is preventing you from living in the here and now. There's nothing wrong with a bit of nostalgia but you have to remember where the line is. Don't let it stop you from living your life.

You may view deep love as a life goal, but you need to make sure that you're not going too overboard with this. You could take this card as a sign that you're staying in a relationship purely because you don't want to be alone, rather than because it makes you happy. You need to remember that it's better to be alone than to be lonely, and if you stay in an unsatisfying relationship, you won't be able to achieve your goal of finding true love. This change is scary but it will be for the better. Alternatively, you might be being too picky with your romantic partners. It's always good to have set standards, but this could be a sign that you need to check these and to make sure that they aren't too high. Your partner won't be perfect and you need to accept that. If that interpretation resonates with you, then your perception of love is going to be challenged in the near future. True love is not an unrealistic goal.

PILE 4:

Past - King of Swords (Reversed)

Present - Nine of Swords (Upright)

Future - World (Upright)

You had a bright and clear mind from a young age, and this may have been a point of praise throughout your childhood. However, this could have had a negative effect on you, as some adults may have treated you differently, which led you to feel isolated. They probably meant well and didn't even know how it made you feel, but the point is that you felt lonely as a child, not really feeling like you fit in. There were benefits to this though, as many positive opportunities that you had access to. These helped you to grow as a child.

You may be going through a very difficult time right now. You may find yourself feeling like you're at a complete loss, and I'm here to tell you that you are wrong. You will get through whatever is happening for nothing is permanent. That being said, don't feel guilty whatsoever for asking for help. Other people can and will help you to climb out of the spiral you're in. It may be hard to look on the bright side right now, but you will be okay.

Your future is uncertain, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't have hope. You haven't had a clear sense of direction recently, which can be hard when you want to achieve great things. The easiest thing to do is to decide on where you want to end up, a goal you want to achieve. This will help you get there. Everything else will fall into place.

PILE 5:

Past - Four of Pentacles (Reversed)

Present - Six of Swords (Upright)

Future - Eight of Swords (Reversed)

You've been putting a lot of hard work into a particular project recently and this card is a sign that this dedication will be paying off soon. This project could have been years in the making, meaning it will be all the more satisfying when you start to see results and rewards. Speaking of rewards, they will most likely be something financial, so perhaps you will get paid for your work, or it will help with your financial stability.

You may be facing some obstacles right now that you don't think you'll be able to overcome. I'm here to tell you that you will, in the near future as it happens, and you'll be a much stronger person as a result of this. The situation you are currently in is either going to change unexpectedly or a new person will come into the picture offering a helping hand. You should accept their help if they offer it. Regardless of which of these happens, you will be left feeling much more at ease with your situation. You will be filled with a strong sense of peace and finality.

An important event is coming, and its outcome will be decided entirely by how you choose to act: out of fear or out of rationality. You are currently the master of your own fate. In the past, you may have often been on the safe side, considering all possibilities before making any important decisions. This tendency will help you to make an informed decision in the future. Try not to act on impulse.

#tarotscope #tarotdaily #tarot #tarotblr #free tarot #tarotlife #pick a card #tarot pick a card #tarot pick a pile #pac #tarot pac #past present future #past present future tarot

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fantasyfandommaiden · 5 years ago

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Proof That Nathalie Cares.

Nathalie sits down in her brand new home, boxes all aroud her, thinking back to how she got here in the first place…

~~~~~~~

[[MORE]]

It all honestly started about eight years ago. When Emilie Agreste first hired her to be HER personal assistant. Nathalie had just graduated with honours from university, and it was a very high paying job. She was professional, and courteous, and would always remind Emilie of any appointments she had.

She, of course, also worked closely with Gabriel Agreste, however that was less often, and got to ‘know’ Adrien fairly well, even if the eight year old boy was incredibly shy towards her. Which is why, when one day Adrien came towards Nathalie’s desk, looking at her with a slight pleading expression, she was somewhat confused.

“... Yes Adrien?” she addressed him, looking away from her laptop.

“... It’s Mama’s birthday soon, right?” he asked, pointing at the calendar on Nathalie’s desk. He was pointing at the red circle that was roughly six days from now, a small sticker of a birthday cake on it.

Nathalie looked at the boy with a raised brow “... it is. Why do you ask?”

“I wanna get her a gift, but Papa won’t take me shopping and I can’t leave the house without a grown up.” he said, looking at Nathalie with those pleading eyes. Nathalie almost feels her resolve break… Almost.

“Unfortunately Adrien, I can’t take you out without your mother or fathers permission.” she said evenly, seeing the boy frown, Nathalie sighed before opening up a new tab on her laptop “But we can order something for your mother online so it will arrive here.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he grinned widely, stepping as close to Nathalie’s chair so he can see the screen, but when Nathalie saw him standing on his tippy-toes, she scooted her chair back, giving Adrien an encouraging look. Adrien smiled widely as he all but jumped onto Nathalie’s lap as Nathalie pushed herself and Adrien closer to the desk “Now, what sort of things do you think your mother would like Adrien?” “She likes flowers!!!” “Alright, thats a good start…”

Unknown to the pair, Emilie watched the two, a small smile on her face before she quietly left the two to do their ‘shopping’. On Emilie’s birthday, she received a beautiful wired broach that looked like a flower, which she wore every single day.

~~~~~~

When Emilie was declared missing (and to Nathalie’s knowledge, her boss was in fact missing), her first thought hadn’t been ‘Oh my god, am I going to lose my job’, it had been ‘Oh my god, what about Adrien?’

Although Gabriel had never been a BAD parent, he wasn’t exactly the nurturing type. So when Emilie Agreste had been declared missing, she contacted her friend Carmine, who gave her every single bit of information she had about grief, as well as the contact information for a grief counsellor.

Gabriel, however, stated his son didn’t need it, and to throw it all away. Nathalie of course couldn’t go against her employers wishes, however instead decided to be… sneaky about it.

So, when her shift ended at exactly 5:30 that day, she went to Adrien’s room, looking at the boy straight in the eyes and told him “You have my phone number, if for whatever reason you need to talk, just call my number and I WILL awnser. If its during the day when I am working, just send me a text message and I will take my break so we can talk.”

Adrien looked at Nathalie, before giving her his model smile (oh how Nathalie HATED that smile) “Nathalie, I’m fine, honest-”

“Adrien.” she interuppted him “I WILL answer.” she stated again simply.

Adrien looked at her, before nodding “... Okay, but I wont need to. Honest.”

About three days later, at about two oclock in the morning, Nathalie’s phone rings and like she promised, she does answer it.

~~~~~~

When Adrien expressed an interest in going to school, Nathalie knew that she was in for the toughest battle of her entire career. Gabriel Agreste was possibly the most over-protective, paranoid person she had ever met, and he was down right controlling.

So, she gather all the information she could about the benefits of public schooling, sighting how the school that Chloe went to was one of the best around and only about a ten minute walk from the mansion. They had good teachers there, and were known for being willing to be flexable with scedules as many of the students there also worked in entertainment or had jobs.

However, whenever she tried to bring up the subject, Gabriel was quick to change the subject. It came to the point where on the first day of school, Adrien had decided to take matters into his own hands, snuck out of the house to attend school.

As much as it killed Nathalie to do so, she had to bring him back the house, as per Gabriel’s orders. She could tell that the driver wasn’t happy about the decision either.

During their shared lunch they ate in the kitchen, Nathalie had her face pressed against the marbled counter top. “All he wants to do is attend school! Why can’t Mr. Agreste see that?!” She muttered into the cold stone.

Gorilla let out a soft grunt in response, eating his lunch as the woman continued to debate HOW she could get her kid- Adrien… how she could get ADRIEN to attend school. Her brows furrowed as she stood up suddenly, a look of determination on her face “I’m going to talk to him again. I will MAKE him listen to me.” She said, stomping out of the room.

~~~~~~~…

Nathalie knew she should have contacted the police the moment she found out about Gabriel being Hawkmoth about four months into his super villain activities… but than he showed her Emilie and explained what happened…. and they came to a sort of… accord.

She still wasn’t happy about it. But she began to form contingency plans, just in case.

~~~~~~

Nathalie had NOT in fact forgotten Adrien’s birthday. She had gotten him a simple, impersonal gift of his favourite candies, as well as some cash in a birthday card. The fact that GABRIEL seemed to have forgotten his own sons birthdya however angered her to no end… it made it even worse when she had to use Marinette’s gift as a substitute for Adrien’s negligent father…

When Marinette had submitted designs for a contest that Gabriel was hosting, if her name was suddenly at the very top of the ‘highly recommended’ list, Nathalie wouldn’t say. (The girl was extrmly talented after all.)

~~~~~~~~~~

By Christmas of that year, Nathalie just wanted her day to end so she could go and spend Christmas with her friends. She had been helping Adrien decorate the tree, he looked so sad when he realized his father probably wouldn’t join him.

“Will you be spending Christmas with your parents Nathalie?” Adrien asked off handedly. She hadn’t meant to tense up, and defiantly hadn’t meant for Adrien to see. “Oh… unless they aren’t around anymore…”

“... no, they live in Paris.” Nathalie stated simply, hanging up another decoration. “... I just haven’t spoken to them in many years.”

“... did you have a fight?” He asked hesitantly. Nathalie hated that fact that Adrien always felt like he had to walk on eggshells around adults. She shook her head.

“No… I came out to my parents as gay, and they said that when I got over ‘my phase’ I would be welcome back to the family.” She said simply. She gave Adrien a small smile. “... I’ll be spending Christmas with Carmine and our friends.”

“Oh… that sounds nice.” He said softly.

Nathalie looked at him, that back towards the office where his father had disappeared to, glancing at Gorilla who looked at her with a raised brow.

She brought out her cellphone, typing a quick text message before pressing send. About five minutes later she got a response and she looked at Adrien.

“Adrien, if your father is still locked up in his office come Christmas dinner, you are more than welcome to stop by my apartment for dinner.”

Adrien looked at her shocked “But… what about your friends?”

“They said they would be fine with it. I’m not going to pressure you. Just know that the option is open.”

Adrien looked at her for several long seconds, a warm smile spreading across his face. “... thanks Nathalie…”

~~~~~

Nathalie always cared…. and she always will.

#ml au #counsellor au #nathalie sancoeur #adrien agreste #carmine regal

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saundraswriting · 4 years ago

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S.C Books Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Eren, Mikasa, and Armin live together off-campus for college. They go to Trost University, where the rest of the 104th fill in. Levi and Hange run Survey Corps Books or S.C. Books as a team, with Petra Moblit and Oluo. Eren's life hasn't been pleasant but the discovery of his second favorite place has made it a little better. Levi is aware of his near constant presence at the shop, confused as to how a college student can afford his book and coffee habit. Through unwelcome meddling from their friends, the two fine themselves growing closer. Possibly too close for a traumatized college student and slightly neurotic bookstore owner to be.

NOTES: I have not watched all of AoT or read the manga. I probably won't ever either. I have seen/read enough to know what is happening. I am enjoying being tangently attached to this fandom but also my existence thrives in canon divergence/modern setting au's and that is where I stay. usually.

WARNINGS: Eren/Levi ship but aged up in a modern setting, some SH references(physical and mental) language, suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, more warnings to come as I write(very slowly)

read it here on Ao3 (Which I recommend for better tagging)

Masterlist // Ao3 // Anime Masterlist

The chime ringing through the back room at 5 in the morning was a surprise. Levi was the only one at his bookstore/café to meet the extremely early customer. Levi came out of the small kitchen in the back, drying his hands off with a towel.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I though today was Hange's morning to work. I apologize." The smooth voice cut Levi off before he could speak. Levi looked up and froze, not often did Levi work the counter of his own establishment. The store was rather large but was tucked into away a bit so his 4 employees handled it just fine. He was glad this was one of those days. The tall green eyed wonder staring at him was one of the few regulars he had. Levi didn't know his full name, or why some weeks he practically lived at the store but he did know the three different way he took his coffee and the one way he took his tea. Levi knew that he was attractive and clean and polite.

"It was. They went on a bender after reading a weird article and overslept. Their husband texted me to ask me to cover." Levi told the kid. The kid nodded like he understood and with as often as he was there, Levi didn't doubt that Hange had roped the kid into a discussion or two.

"Again, sorry. I'll get going then. I was coming in to say hi and see if the machines were running. But I am an hour early for when you open." The kid looked down rubbing his already messy hair. He looked ready to bolt.

"It's fine, kid. I have a machine running already. I am no spring chicken, I need coffee to get up this early anymore. I was getting ready for the rest when you came in." Levi told him. The kid looked up hopeful, eyes slightly bloodshot. "I can only do regular coffee right now, or I'd do your Monday special." Levi said. He looked apologetically at the student, sympathizing with him.

"You know my coffee order?" He looked surprised. He blinked. "I am fine with regular coffee. I'll need-"

"3 creams and 6 sugars. How you can call that swill coffee I will never know." Levi cut him off. He turned around and made the coffee, wanting to hurry so he could look at the kid some more. 'Stop, he is much too young for you.'He tried to shake off the invasive thoughts but the urge to peek at the kid who'd been sitting at his table for what felt like years was strong.

"Just cause I hate the bitterness doesn't make it swill. Sorry we all can't have as refined taste buds as you. I rather like enjoying my drink." The kid snarked while your back was turned. 'He's witty. And attractive.' Levi sighed, this kid was almost too much for 5 am.

"Here you go brat. Enjoy your drink." The kid swiped his card, already drinking heavily from the cup. "I'll let you know when I get the espresso machine up." Levi told him as he finished the transaction. The kid looked up at him, with a grin powerful enough to run the damn city.

"Thanks, Levi. Do you mind if I sit in my spot? I have some work to finish up." The kid hadn't moved from the spot at the counter.

"Fais ce que tu veux." Do what you want. Levi muttered under his breath waving as he ducked into the kitchen. He wasn't sure how the kid knew his name, Hange could have pointed him out or mentioned him but he seemed to know exactly who Levi was.

"I don't know what that means but I will take it as a yes." Levi heard through the swinging door. Levi busied himself with getting the small food stuffs ready for opening and even getting them ready for lunch. He put the breakfast stuff in the oven and put the lunch stuff from the freezer into the cooler to thaw. He was just setting the timer when the door chime went off again.

"Oh! Eren, you're here?" A loud high pitched voice told Levi who it was without looking. Levi did not step closer to the door to hear the kid's-Eren's response.

"Yeah. Levi let me stay. I feel bad. I don't mean to be an imposition." Eren sounded bothered and instantly his face came to Levi's mind wearing a small frown. Levi had spent enough time watching Eren over the last couple years, he knew exactly what he looked like.

"If he thought you were imposing then you wouldn't be here. Don't worry." Hange's voice got louder meaning they were getting closer. Levi scrambled back a few steps and then mentally cursed, he never scrambled anywhere. "Get back to your work, Eren. I'll bring you over a Monday special, I just need to check in with the boss man." Hange stepped through the door to see Levi unconvincingly fiddling with the oven.

"Hange. About time you fucking got here. What is this I hear, you let Eren come in before opening?" Levi demanded. He was trying to keep his cocky attitude but Hange was one of the few that new him best.

"I am sorry, but you know how I get sometimes. I just can't help myself." Hange smiled broadly. "Also, Eren is a good kid. Been dealt a shitty hand but good. I like 'em." Hange shrugged. "He lives with some friends but I think he likes having a space to himself. Anyway!" Hange began darting around the kitchen trying to get things ready so Levi could go back to his job. "You head back to the office, boss. I got it from here. Thank you!" Levi rolled his eyes and headed back into the office, trying to ignore his growing curiosity about Eren.

Later that morning, Levi came out of his office to check on everything to see Eren still at the table he sat at flipping through text books and scrawling down messy notes. He had a little more color than this morning but was still looking haggard. 'Eren is a good kid. Been dealt a shitty hand but good.' Unbidden Hange's comment came to the front of his mind. As he watched, Eren shook out his left arm, rubbing from wrist to mid-forearm looking like he was drowning. Levi felt a pang of sympathy for the young man, he quickly grabbed a pastry and made a cup of green tea. Ignoring the confused stares of Hange and Petra. He walked over and lightly tapped his shoe against Eren's failing to smother a smirk when he jumped.

"Hey, brat. Are you trying to fuse with my furniture today or will you be leaving at some point?" Levi said. Eren blinked up at him before the words sank in.

"Levi! Hi. Um, no. I usually have a class right now but the professor cancelled. So I have been here, quietly sucking up all your wifi and spewing bad vibes. I can leave if you want?" Eren asked, a small hopeful look on his face.

"Oi, stop looking at me like that. If I wanted you gone, you'd be gone. You practically live here. I see no reason to change that now." Levi sat down across from the kid, ignoring that heavy stares his employees were giving him. "What are you studying so intensely you freaked out?" Levi asked. He still kept his treats, waiting for the best moment.

"Calculus. I am going into the art fields but I also want a bio degree in case of later, looks like if I play my cards right I will end up with a Bachelor in Science with chemistry and math minors and an Bachelor in Art with a minor in English and Psychology." Eren sighed. "Not like I chose this but I am taking so many classes to begin with for my double major that the minors all kind of happen. Especially at Trost, so much overlap for each dept. So I will be a jack of all trades buried under a lot of debt." Eren chuckled.

"Wait, I thought I heard you and Shitty Glasses that you were given a full academic ride?" Levi peered at him. Eren's green eyes widened and a pretty blush spread across his cheeks.

"I am. Yes. I don't like to talk about it. Trost only gives full rides to the top 10 kids of the high school's class. I know a lot of people who go to Trost don't have the luxury of free schooling, so I try not to mention it. It makes me uncomfortable when I can't relate to others." Eren shrugged. He looked at the clock on his computer, and closed his textbooks with the pens and notebooks still inside. Levi glanced at his left arm and saw the discoloration of a long scar. It was tapered at the top and bottom, it healed nice but Levi could only think of one thing that made scars like that.

"Are you leaving?" Levi was reminded how he didn't know this kid's schedule and this meager attempt at getting to know him after all this time was ridiculous.

"No. Thought now would be a good time for a break. I try to take ten minutes every hour to look at my phone or whatever. I sometimes walk the store too, give Hange a stack of books to buy later." Eren shrugged. Levi was instantly captivated. This kid was gorgeous, witty, smart, talented, polite, and somehow loaded? Levi wanted-no, needed-to know more.

"Good thing, I thought you could use a break too. Here, A blueberry scone and a honey lemon green tea. I know the tea is new but I think you will like it. It may even help with anxiety." Levi pushed the mug and plate over, with a very small smile on his face. Eren looked between the offering and Levi before beaming. He quickly sanitized his hands, which earned him points with Levi before breaking the scone in half.

"I am assuming-dangerous I know-that this is on the house. If so then I will only accept if you share it with me. Or else, I will pay Hange, right now." Eren's eyes twinkled playfully, matching the smile on his face. Levi sighed in defeat and Eren's grin grew bigger.

Before either of them could say anything, Hange was putting down a clean plate and a cup of black tea before winking and skipping away. Levi felt a shiver of apprehension go down his spine. They would definitely terrorize him over this later. Eren has been visiting for months now, staying some days past close or coming in before opening and staying the whole day, sometimes looking well and sometimes looking like he could run away from his thoughts fast enough, and today of all days Levi decides to sit down and share a scone with this stranger/customer. Levi put his half on his plate with the distinct feeling he lost at something but the soft, warm smile Eren was wearing made it worth it, somehow. The two of them sat, chatting lightly until both their plates and mugs were empty.

"Hey, Levi?" Eren asked. Levi looked up from where he had stacked the dishes, getting ready to leave. "Thank you for everything today. I really enjoyed the company." Eren looked up from the spot on the table he had been staring at to grin at Levi. His green eyes shining and dimples showing.

"Tch. Don't get used to it, brat. Get back to work, you slacked enough today." Levi pushed his chair in and headed back to his office, ignoring the urge to turn around.

"Yes, sir." Eren said to his retreating back. Eren saw his shoulders move in a sigh and Eren couldn't help but smile again. Levi had always distracted and caught his attention. He saw Levi one day in the store and decided to go in, Eren was glad every day he made that slightly impulsive decision. The shorter man with his sharp blue eyes and sharper tongue had Eren hook, line and sinker. Once he arrived for the day not much could pull him away, always wanting one more secret look or overheard joke. Many days, Eren felt like his thoughts were too much, the day too long, the night too short but a couple hours in the café/bookstore with his art tablet were enough to settle him down. He hadn't felt this stable since before his mom died. He was enjoying school and friends and even if some days were bad days, that was all they were, and he knew he could try again the next day.

Eren pulled out his books again, wanting to get a little ahead in his class that was cancelled today, but he was sure it was for nothing. His head was full of Levi. He had welcomed him in early and even gave him a free snack. He talked to Eren, like he really wanted to know about him. He asked about his friends and classes and how his art was coming, Eren realized Levi must watch him as much as Eren watched him. Now Eren's nose was full of his cedar and tea tree oil scent and the image of Levi in a button up rolled to the elbows and looser fit slacks. Eren wondered how much muscle was hidden under his clothes, he had seen Levi carry some heavy boxes around. His arms were well defined and his thighs were perfectly snug in his pants. Eren shook his head, trying to focus and lose the warmth in his cheeks he knew was visible.

After a couple more hours of studying, Eren packed up his school books and pulled out a large binder and a tablet and sketchbook. He had several friends that were going to school to be game developers and as a friend he told them he would help out with character design and lore, since he like to write and draw. Once he got set up he went up to the counter where Hange was just finishing up for the day. "Hange, you haven't left already?" Eren looked confused before checking the time on his watch.

"I came in a little late, so I stayed an extra two hours. Petra is closing with Oluo tonight." Hange put their apron in the dirty laundry bin at the end of the counter. "Did you need something? I can ring you up before I clock out at least." Hange said.

"Yes please. I really shouldn't but I need to finish like 3 characters for Armin and Jean. They had some big changes to the designs I gave them last week." Eren paused, hesitating ever so slightly. He looked around suspiciously. "I need to pay for the treats Levi and I shared. I know I told him it was okay, but I don't want him to make a habit of it, ya know?" Eren rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "I don't want to be seen as a mooch." Hange grinned, glasses glinting scarily under the lights.

"So you need a early evening pick me up and then 1 black tea, 1 Green Tea and 1 blueberry scone? Is that right?" Hange said, a bit louder than acceptable.

"Hange! Shush. Please. That is everything." Eren held a finger to his lips, trying not to flush under her staring.

"Why not accept the gift as it came? Eren, I get where you are coming from, I do. I have to say though, this is the first time he has shown any interest in someone who is new. I know that you have been here for ages already but think. Levi doesn't make uncalculated decisions. I know you are interested and I know he is. If you snub his fist gift, then what happened today may be as far as this goes. Do you understand?" Hange held her finger over the screen , ready for Eren choice.

"Fine, I will take my early evening pick me up and whatever you want instead." Eren said. He looked nervous. "Thanks Hange, I appreciate you help, even though I know it comes from a warped place." Eren chuckled before handing over his payment. Hange sent their order off and clocked out. She waited at the counter for her and Eren's drink. Eren, knowing this headed off to the stacks of books seeing if anything new caught his eye. There were a few art books that had just came in that he quickly grabbed, animated and 2-D character books. He bought them and headed back to his seat where Hange arrived a moment later.

"I can't stay long. I have to go. But I will thank you for the beverage. I will also tell you that while you may think my concern for the two of you comes from a warped place, it also comes from love. Eren, I don't know everything about you. I don't know why some days you looks like the world rests on your shoulders and why some days you look like a 20 something living his best life. I do know that you are an amazing kid though. I know more about Levi than I probably should but I don't know what he is thinking. I don't know why he has preferred all these years to be alone, pardon his family. I will say, I haven't seen him sit down and enjoy a conversation like today in a very long time. So treasure the fact that you are important to Levi Ackerman, for that is no small feat." Hange was uncharacteristically serious, fiddling with their to-go cup. She quickly brightened. "If you have sex, will you take pictures? Or record it? I need to know if that guy is a top or bottom desperately, and I am dying to know your preference too." Hange laughed boisterously at the terror clearly seen on Eren's face. "I am kidding...unless?" Hange wiggled their eyebrows.

"Hange! If you are done harassing my customers then leave. You are scaring the poor kid. He looks like he is about to shit himself." Levi came up to the table saving Eren from having to answer.

Hange pouted. "You ruin all my fun." She looked at her phone to check the time. "I got to jet. There is a program I want to see. Bye!" They darted off, not worried about the terror they left behind.

"Oh my gosh. She is terrifying. Anyway." Eren seemed to shake himself off. "Are you going home?"

"Yeah. I've been here long enough. I got nothing left to do today, so might as well head home." Levi scanned his cafe with sharp eyes.

"Everything okay, Levi? You seem tense." Eren looked around but didn't see anything to cause the reaction.

"Nothing. What about you, brat? You got someplace to be today?" Levi nudged his bag gently with his toes.

"Yeah. I have a 5 pm anatomy lab once a week. I am there until 9 or 10 most nights. I have to get going soon. I should also drop by the house too, check in with Mikasa and Armin." Eren told him. He began packing up his things carefully. "Can I walk you to your car? Or is that being to presumptuous?"

"Maybe a little. But I don't mind." Levi waited until Eren grabbed all his stuff, the new art books included. The two of them walked out, tossing farewells over their shoulder to the closing staff.

"Thank you for walking me to my car, Eren. I feel more like a damsel in distress with each second." Levi's eyes usually harsh and narrow had softened slightly and had a glint to them. Eren could read the intended humor. "Good luck in class. I will see you later." Levi got in his car, not denying that he did feel safer, almost protected when Eren didn't turn away until he turned his car on. Levi pulled away from the curb where he was parked while Eren turned to start the trek to his house to get ready for his anatomy lab/class.

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

Any thoughts? Any at all? Hope you liked it!

#saundraswriting #saundrasays #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi x eren #aot modern au #Aot canon divergence #aot fanfiction #S.C Books the fic

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wilstudies · 5 years ago

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Get a grade 9 in a language GCSE!

Please note:

1. These tips are almost entirely applicable to any AQA language at GCSE. 2. Modern Foreign Languages at GCSE Level is anywhere from A2 to B1 (dependant on the tier and grade) on the CEFR scale, but, there is no official equivalent.

In November 2018, whilst in Year 10, my teacher saw that I was excelling in French, with my extensive knowledge of tenses and idioms. So, she proposed that I’d do the January mocks, alongside Year 11, despite not knowing more than half of the subject content. Then we’d see where I’d go from there.

I followed the AQA exam board, higher paper. Specification. You can find the Kerboodle textbook I used, here.

Here’s what I did:

Throughout the year, I was also studying the Year 10 content (Theme 1 - Identity and culture) in class.

In my own time, each month I’d cover one or two units, completing the more challenging activities on each page of the textbook. Luckily, each unit was only 4 double-page spreads long.

In January I completed my mocks. This was the first time I had ever sat in an exam hall, so it was really daunting to be doing it with a bunch of kids who were older than me, even though I knew I had enough knowledge. Overall, I got a secure grade 8, in my mocks, despite not knowing half of the course content.

I also did “pre-exam mocks”, two weeks before each exam. These consisted of specimen papers which are notoriously harder, so my results looked almost exactly the same as past papers, which was upsetting as I couldn’t see that I’d actually improved. But practice is practice!

MY ACTUAL GCSE RESULT:

With a lot of work. I managed to achieve a grade 9 (the top mark, higher than an A*), which was insane. I’m so, so proud of myself, and grateful for all of the teachers that supported me!!!

^Edit from 25/08/2019.

LISTENING

In my opinion, listening is based purely on practice and knowing the exam technique that works for you.

To practice:

frenchpod101 intermediate listening comprehension

Going through every specimen track and listening activity I could find - pausing it after each sentence, saying it once in French, then translating it into English. I’d do this in the shower, on the way to school, wherever.

Know your vocab!

My exam technique:

In the 5 minutes reading time: underline keywords and themes in the questions. This time goes very quickly, but I’d also try to jot down a few synonyms in the French section too.

Multiple choice questions: the process of elimination; key vocab; negative and positive tonality and opinion words - watch out for negative structures!

Completing the sentences: note down words said in French or translate each sentence into English in your head, then remember it when it comes to writing it down.

French section: fill each sentence with key French words that you hear. Don’t worry about accents, unless it helps you determine the word.

Remember each track plays twice.

READING

The January Mock: I didn’t know much of the course content, so I struggled with the translation. I also circled and placed a question mark near any words I didn’t know, as it was a mock and my teacher would be able to note down any translations for me. I think what boosted my grade, to a 9 for this paper, was knowledge of grammar.

T/F/NM questions are usually a gamble. Just look for explicit information and know your negative formations.

Texts change their minds often: look out for counter-arguments and opposing exclamations

Use the method of elimination for multiple choice: rule out if there’s no mention. Be wary that a text can mention an option, but say it wasn’t that.

Texts often refer to things mentioned prior.

If you know a certain type of texts are your kryptonite (it was the classical stories with dialogue, for me), then download as many of that genre as you can. Understand the way speech and dialogue works, and the structure, before you tackle the vocab.

Many say skim read and don’t read the whole thing, but I found it easier to translate big chunks in my head as I went along and lightly annotate each text, which just comes with practice.

WRITING

Top tip: don’t go any more than 10% over word limits!!!!!!! Teachers say they have to mark all of it - no they don’t. If you do double the word limit, your last few bullet points could come after the cut-off point, cutting off access to half of the marks!!!

90 WORD - 99 words maximum! About 20-25 words per bullet point.

150 WORD - 165 words maximum! About 75 words per bullet point.

Which brings me to mention, that you must cover every bullet point: those are your content marks, which cover about half the marks of each question.

90 WORD Question (16 marks)

Content - 10 marks: Making sure your writing covers each bullet point enough.

Quality of Language - 6 marks: Using interesting vocabulary, such as “malheureusement”.

Stick to about one page.

If you’re giving an opinion, great, just stop there. If you explain it too much, you risk going over your word limit.

150 WORD Question (32 marks)

Content - 15 marks: Every. Bullet. Point. Detailed.

Range of Language - 12 marks: get in those adjectives, idioms and grammatical structures!

Accuracy - 5 marks: correct basic tense conjugations (present, past, future simple/future proche)

In order to hit all of these I came up with a mnemonic checklist, and it scored me full marks in a specimen paper I did for my teacher! And I made it into a cute phone background, so I’d start to remember it, I still can now, hehe! You can find it here. If that doesn’t work, then download it here.

SPEAKING

Know your question words! (x)

For the roleplay and photocard, my teacher printed off me a load of practice cards in bulk and annotated two or three every day, using the planning techniques mentioned below.

Roleplay - 2 minutes; can be any theme.

When planning, try to avoid writing out answers, but just keywords and gaps for you to fill in with pronouns or articles etc.

Keep it brief, one sentence per bullet point, but cover each part of each bullet point.

Photo card - 3 minutes (aim to speak for at least 2).

Plan with a small spider-diagram of nouns, opinions, anecdotes etc. for each known question.

Use one or two prepped anecdotes for the prepared questions - e.g. where you went last year, who with, what you did.

For the unknown questions, keep it short and sweet and fill up any time with opinions and reasoning.

General conversation - 5-7 minutes.

Lie and make up stories! Be creative and use the words and structures you know.

I was a little extra and I prepared every theme as flashcards. You can’t get away with only revising your chosen theme!

I made flashcards that could cover several types of questions: I had bullet points of topics and keywords on one side and a sample paragraph on the other.

Pretty sure I made about 80 flashcards oops.

I also went through the mark scheme and see which areas I could secure marks in and which areas I needed to improve.

VOCAB

Learning vocab is SO important!

I started by making spreadsheets of jumbled word lists from the specification and doing a colour-coded match up.

You can access a pdf of all of the vocab grids here. There might be the odd word missing due to copy-pasting errors, but if so, don’t stress, just look it up in a dictionary and note it down - sorry in advance!!!

Then with the vocab that I had to look up in a dictionary, I added to a Quizlet and wrestled it into my noggin.

You can find the Quizlet here.

Remember that:

sauf - except

puisque - since

presque - almost

GRAMMAR

To me, learning tenses was like learning formulae for maths. So find a way to learn rules like that, if it’s easier for you.

e.g. Conditional Tense = subject + (future/conditional stem + imperfect ending)*

*note that future stems are the same as conditional stems.

Know your DRMRSPVANDERTRAMP verbs, and their past participles. These verbs go with ÊTRE and always agree with the subject.

Know your auxiliary and irregular verbs.

MUST KNOW: avoir, être, aller, faire, vouloir

HELPFUL: devoir, pouvoir, vivre, boire, voir, dire, savoir

OTHERS: mettre, prendre, venir, écrire, lire, recevoir

I learnt these by making flashcards, and then brain dumping them on paper over and over again until they stuck - my teacher thought I was insane, madly scribbling away.

Memorise some key structures that can be used in writing and speaking.

If you want 7+ structures, find them here.

MISC TIPS

Always write notes about improvements and errors in practice papers and mocks.

Find a native french internet friend.

In my opinion, music, movies and TV shows aren’t great for revision. However, if you begin to understand them, they are a great confidence boost.

I highly recommend the Skam France series, which you can find with and without les sous-titres (subtitles) here.

And here’s my french music playlist on Spotify.

MORE ASSISTANCE

I’m happy to offer my assistance to anybody who needs it, pop me a dm or an ask if you think others will find it useful too.

Here’s some ways I could help:

Finding some resources about a certain topic (videos, worksheets, mindmaps) - I have them all backed up hehe

Sending you some of my past answers

Sending you pdf of my general conversation/irregular verb table flashcards

Marking practice answers

Talking to you in french

Etc. etc.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog to help any others that might find this useful. If any of the links are faulty, please pop me a dm, and I’ll get them sorted asap!! 🥐

-Wil x

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popculty · 5 years ago

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Surviving the Coronapocalypse: A Masterpost

Living in the current coronavirus capital of the U.S., I’ve been thinking a lot about how woefully unprepared my city was, and how I can help other people who will likely be in the situation we’ve been in within the next few weeks or months. There have been a LOT of posts - from memes to crap advice to solid advice to a misspelled hashtag that somehow blew up without anyone noticing. It’s been all over the place and kind of overwhelming, honestly. So instead of reblogging a million individual posts, I wanted to consolidate some of the most useful information/resources I’ve come across into one handy, update-able reference post. And because this a pop culture blog, there’s gonna be plenty of that sprinkled in. This isn’t going to be an exhaustive list, by any means - that would be impossible, considering how many angles there are to this thing and how quickly it’s evolving. But feel free to use this as a starter, and add to it as you come across other resources worth sharing.

First, protect your health:

1. I can’t believe in the year 2020, 150 years after germs were discovered, that we have to even say this, but: Wash your hands, people. This seems obvious, and we hear it constantly, and yet I keep seeing people use hand sanitizer like it’s the same as hand-washing. Not-so-fun fact: IT ISN’T. Not even close (so double fuck this guy!). First of all, it’s only effective against some types of germs. Secondly, it does NOT kill or remove those germs, it just temporarily neutralizes them, allowing them to resurface later. Hand sanitizer should only be used when hand-washing is not an option. It’s better than nothing, but is not a long-term habit that will save you. If you are going to use hand sanitizer, it needs to contain at least 60% alcohol to be effective. Alcohol, however, dries the fuck out of your hands, and germs love dry skin because they can hide in the cracks. So it’s important to moisturize afterward. But I’ll say it louder for the people in the back (esp. men who still haven’t figured out how bathroom hygiene works and then wonder why they’re dying at much higher rates from this): JUST 👏 WASH 👏 YOUR 👏 DAMN 👏 HANDS! 👏 Scrub for 20-30 seconds, like Kristen Bell told you. There are a million memes for this. Find one that speaks to you, or make your own, and use it.

2. “Social distancing” - By now we’ve all heard of this, and it’s a good thing for everyone to start doing right about now, regardless of whether or not you are feeling symptoms, because as Idris Elba just reminded us (bless), many people do not show symptoms, for weeks or even ever. So: try to stay six feet away from other people as much as possible. If you can’t avoid getting close to people, just make it quick. The latest info is that it’s not airborne (thank god), but transmitted via droplets (i.e. from coughing), so it really doesn’t matter whether you’re inside or outdoors.

3. And now a word from my infectious disease specialist mom who is working on the front-lines of this: 📣 If you have symptoms (fever, cough, shortness of breath), stay home and take care of yourself like you would if you had the flu. Do not go out in public unless you absolutely have to, (i.e. you are literally dying and require medical attention) and if you do, WEAR A SURGICAL MASK. IF YOU ARE NOT EXPERIENCING SYMPTOMS, YOU DO NOT NEED TO WEAR A MASK – THEY SHOULD ONLY BE WORN BY PEOPLE WHO ARE SICK/COUGHING (to stop those droplets), AND BY HEALTH CARE WORKERS. DO NOT HOARD MASKS FOR PERSONAL USE - THEY ARE ESSENTIALLY USELESS TO YOU AND IT DIVERTS THEM FROM THE DOCTORS AND NURSES WHO ACTUALLY NEED THEM. 📣 Thank you.

4. If you can stay home, stay home. Simple as that. Sure, flights are cheap and we all love a deal but at what cost, Becky?? Just because you can fly (you’re young! you’re healthy! you’re feeling lucky! you *hair flip* just don’t give a fuck!), doesn’t mean you can’t show some goddamn personal restraint and concern for your fellow (elderly, at-risk) human beings. If you won’t listen to me, listen to Wonder Woman. Participate in the #stayhomechallenge and #dontbeaspreader.

5. Inform yourself. The news is doing a really good job of sowing general panic and not much else. And obviously, the situation is literally changing everyday, but here are the basics you should know, via handy infographics. To keep up with the latest, I recommend this interactive map and Science Vs., an investigative science podcast that is currently doing a series of episodes on the ever-changing COVID-19 situation. It does a really good job of painting a picture of how this virus actually spreads, who is at risk, and what a pandemic would actually look like. The “Pandemic” episode of Explained on Netflix is also proving incredibly prescient right now.

Be a decent human being:

The truth is, if you know the facts, coronavirus isn’t actually that scary. What is scary is uninformed people acting impulsively and selfishly. Like, there is no logical reason for the run on toilet paper (coronavirus doesn’t even make you shit!). The reason there is no toilet paper in your grocery store is because a handful of excitable people panicked and bought up all the Charmin they saw. Then other people panicked when they saw the empty shelf and thought, “I guess I should be stockpiling tp too ??” So they did. Then other people came to the grocery store, saw the empty shelves, and posted pictures of those empty shelves on social media. And now everyone in the entire world is freaking out about toilet paper, for no goddamn reason. This scarcity (of tp, of Purell, etc), is a human-created problem, not an outbreak-created problem. Whereas, if everyone had remained calm and bought only what they needed, we could have avoided this entire headache. But people are gonna people, I guess. (If you’re still freaking out about toilet paper though, you should really just invest in a bidet, which is far more sanitary and better for the environment anyway.)

All this is to say: Think before you act. Stop tweeting pictures of empty shelves - you’re only fueling the fire. And don’t use the climate of fear and uncertainty as an excuse to act like a shitty person. When things return to normal, your actions right now will be remembered by those around you. So:

1. Take a look at this graph. If you’re healthy and young (under 60), don’t be a dick. Before you snatch every last roll of toilet paper or bottle of cold remedy off the shelf, considering leaving some for the grandmother behind you who’s probably terrified and has only just now risked leaving her house for this one grocery run, only to find the shelves bare.

2. Moreover, instead of getting swept up into the panic-buying and selfish hoarding, consider buying/delivering groceries for the elderly and at-risk, who are unable to leave their homes. Find out what volunteer opportunities have sprung up in your community to specifically address outbreak-related needs.

3. Donate to food banks - People who have been furloughed from their jobs will have an even harder time putting food on the table, and kids that depend on free school meals will still need to eat if their school is closed.

4. Support local businesses. Big businesses will weather this just fine, but your mom-and-pop store down the street? Your local grocer? They’re hurting already and might not be able to survive weeks or months of low sales or even closing down for a period of time. So...

Buy from local stores rather than big chains as much as possible.

If you are eating/ordering out, choose local, and especially Asian restaurants, who are really hurting right now, and because again: YOU CANNOT GET CORONAVIRUS FROM FOOD. YOU’RE JUST BEING RACIST.

If you don’t want to eat out at all right now (probably advisable), buy gift cards to local restaurants for yourself or others – This will support struggling business now when they need it, and then you can cash in on them when things calm down a bit.

Likewise, if you have tickets to a play, show, etc that gets cancelled, consider not asking for a refund and instead making that a donation to your local stage company, independent cinema, arts center, etc.

If you live in a city where a large event with many local vendors gets cancelled, find out if there is an alternative pop-up event to support those vendors, or buy from them on Etsy. Many artists and craftspeople depend on one huge, annual event like a fair or Con for their entire year’s earnings, so having that event postponed or cancelled is a huge financial blow to them. For example, when Emerald City Comic-Con got pushed til August, this lovely Twitter thread popped up to support the artists.

Maintain your sanity:

The other big thing we are starting to realize is that this social distancing is going to cause a loneliness epidemic in countries that are already some of the loneliest in the world. We don’t know how long these measures will be in place, so we need to prepare ourselves, mentally/emotionally:

1. Take a breath - Even worst-case scenario, this isn’t the end of the world. Try to keep perspective. Apps like Happify, Calm, or any of these can help keep obtrusive thoughts at bay, provide guided mindfulness meditations and breathing exercises, and help center you when you feel like the world is spinning out of control. This is likely going to be a marathon, not a sprint, so pace yourself and be proactive about your mental health.

2. Stay connected – We have more ways to keep in touch virtually now than ever before.

FaceTime, Marco Polo, Discord – Use technology to check in with your friends and family.

Podcasts are a great way to feel connected to others right now. Death, Sex, and Money just did a listener call-in episode, which was a good reminder that this outbreak is affecting people differently across city, state, country, race, class, gender, and ability. Another one of my faves that is going to be applicable to more people than ever in these coming months is The Hilarious World of Depression, in which comedians like Rachel Bloom, Solomon Georgio, and Margaret Cho talk about mental illness and comedy. In one especially relevant episode, Mara Wilson talks about how people with anxiety tend to handle crisis much better than neurotypicals (which explains how I’m so zen right now...)

3. Keep busy - Not being able to go out and socialize like we are used to is likely to make a lot of us stir-crazy. But there are a ton of things you can do and see from the comfort of your own home.

Go on a virtual museum tour, or see the Palace of Versailles.

Take a soothing, 8-hour virtual drive through Iceland.

Watch operas at The Met.

Explore NASA’s stunning media library.

Tackle your book list.

Start writing that novel (or finish that fic!)

File your taxes (Get that return!)

Do your spring cleaning.

Plant a victory garden to reduce the strain on producers and avoid crowded stores.

Binge the shows your friends keep telling you about (follow this blog and podcast for recs!)

If you have kids, here’s a list of all the free educational courses being offered right now.

Libraries may be closed, but you can still get free ebooks, music, movies and TV shows on the Hoopla app, and movies on Kanopy for free if you have a library card or are a student or teacher.

Some upcoming theatrical releases have been postponed (No Time to Die, indeed), but others, like Emma and The Invisible Man, will hit streaming platforms immediately, so you can still get your new movie fix.

So many things to do! Try not to see it as being confined, but rather as an opportunity to do all the things you’ve been putting off. If getting shit done makes you feel good, do it! But hey - remember that you really don’t have to be productive right now just because capitalism tells you to. This is also a great time to be still and relish doing absolutely nothing.

4. Perspective - Remember that this is not the only thing happening in the world right now (psst, the U.S. government is using this distraction to fuck with our privacy, AGAIN.) Also, this is not the first pandemic humanity has endured and it will be nowhere near the worst, so soothe yourself by reading about past pandemics and how we got through them.

Alright. Back to covering pop culture for me (we’re gonna need escapism now more than ever). I’m not gonna even try to update this regularly, that’s just too daunting. But I encourage you to add to this and share as needed in the coming weeks/months.

Stay safe out there, and

#coronapocalypse #coronavirus #resources #advice #health #self care #orig

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artyblogs · 6 years ago

Text

Across the Frozen Sea ch5

Star Wars the Clone Wars, Ahsoka/Barriss/Riyo

Across the Frozen Sea summary: Ahsoka, Barriss, and Riyo find themselves stranded in the Pantoran Taiga. They must get back to civilization, but the wilds are more dangerous than they realize. If the cold doesn’t get them, the locals will.

First Chapter : Previous Chapter : Next Chapter : Last Chapter

Chapter 5: Mafoo Manor

Mafoo Manor is built out of dark hardwoods, and is bedecked in sigil tapestries woven with yellow and purple threads. The stone fireplace is tall enough for Riyo to stand in without slouching, and over the mantle are displayed a few elk carvings placed around a painting of Count Mafoo. Sheer, red fabric has been draped over the painting, somewhat obscuring it.

The dining table is draped in exquisite cloth, and features a magnificent spread of cooked fish, roasted meat, and other Pantoran dishes. Barriss eats a reindeer soup out of a finely-made bowl and hopes that she isn’t committing some social faux-pas. If she was asked if her table manners were impeccable yesterday, she would have answered ‘yes,’ but she’s no longer sure of anything after the raw seal debacle that they ate with their hands. At least the food is cooked now. She didn’t have the appetite to eat much of her share of the seal after she watched Ahsoka tear into the literal heart.

Next to her, Ahsoka eats in silence, content to leave the talking to Riyo. Riyo is all practiced grace and poise, emanating an air of power and confidence despite her wrinkled and blood-stained suit. Thankfully, she attracts most of their hosts’ attention, and most of the conversation is held in Galactic Basic.

What’s left of the Mafoo family sits with them at the dining table. Dowager Countess Xola’s gray hair has been twisted back into a bun, and her sad gaze has been steadily trained on Riyo for most of the meal.

Her second son, Count Mfuneko, sits at the head of the table, and he asks Riyo all sorts of questions about Coruscant and her life as a galactic Senator. He can’t be more than a couple years older than Barriss and Riyo, if he’s older at all. On the other hand, her daughter Thandi stares determinedly at her plate.

“My condolences on your loss, Count, Dowager,” Riyo says. “When is the drowning ceremony?”

“It hasn’t been scheduled,” Xola says. “Mfuneko is arranging everything, but he hasn’t decided on a date.”

“I entrust most of the arrangements to Paki.” Mfuneko gestures to a young man standing at attention in the corner of the room. His dark blue hair is short and spiked, and his yellow tattoos streak down over his jaw like a beard.

“You must remember Paki, don’t you, Senator? One of my father’s last acts was to promote him to the head of the guard.”

“I remember. The both of you are close friends,” Riyo says.

“We go back to the same wet-nurse. At any rate, my father’s drowning won’t be done until my brother Dumi comes home. He’s gone and fled in his grief and we can’t find him. Until he returns, it falls to me to act as Count in his stead,” Mfuneko says. He shrugs and slouches in his chair. “It wouldn’t be right to hold such an important ceremony without him, would it? It’s what my father would have wanted.”

As this, Thandi grips her fork so hard her fingers turn white, but no one else seems to notice.

Mfuneko continues. “He went so quickly; none of us expected it. I wasn’t even raised to inherit the title; that was Dumi’s burden to bear, but it can’t be helped. I must continue in their place.”

“Yes, you are the Count. I’m used to talking business during meals, but we could adjourn to the study if that’s preferred,” Riyo says. Mfuneko’s eyebrows go up.

“Of course, Senator. In due time. I’ll admit I have a favor to ask of you as well.”

“Oh?”

“I find myself tasked with finding Thandi a suitable match. No doubt you are well-connected. Perhaps you could recommend a few candidates for me to pursue on her behalf.”

Thandi lowers her fork and knife. Riyo’s eyes flicker.

“My Lord, your sister is only fourteen years old.”

“All the better to be interested in her future. I am determined that she be well taken care of.” Mfuneko’s voice becomes hard and cold. Ahsoka perks up at the change in tone, and Barriss is tempted to Mind Read him through the Force.

Xola sighs and busies herself with her napkin. “I’m curious about your friends, Senator. We hear of the Jedi, but we don’t truly know of them.”

The tension breaks as Riyo turns to Xola. “They’re humble creatures, my lady. The closest equivalent I can draw are the Mother Moon Priestesses.”

After lunch, Mfuneko, Paki, and Riyo shut themselves in the study, leaving Barriss and Ahsoka to Xola and Thandi. The four of them take a tour of the manor.

Mafoo Manor is located in the outskirts of Bravado, on top of tall sea cliffs. It used to be a castle until most of it burned down in a horrible fire almost fifty years ago, and the lavish manor was built atop the remaining ruins. Xola shows them the stables where they keep their prized elk, the conservatory, the ballroom, the music room, two different parlors, and the library. More tapestries and wood carvings are hung on the walls alongside traditional weapons made from whale bone and shark teeth.

In the entrance foyer hangs a three meter-tall calligraphy painting on canvas. It resembles the sigils that they’ve seen everywhere on Pantora, except this one is painted in a deep purple.

“You must have seen this when you arrived, Master Jedi. Chairman Cho started this trend when he had a similar one done for his palace, only his was six meters tall,” Xola says. She frowns up at the canvas.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is blood, isn’t it?” Ahsoka asks. Xola nods.

“Elk blood. I believe the artist mixed the medium with a stabilizing agent, then varnished the entire canvas to keep it from decaying. It’s terribly expensive to do. I must confess that this is the end of the tour, Master Jedi.”

“Of course, Lady Mafoo. You must be busy,” Barriss says.

“If you need anything, feel free to ask one of the staff.” Xola turns and disappears into the house.

Ahsoka looks back up at the painting. “We’re being followed,” she whispers. Barriss looks around, but sees no one else but Thandi, who’s busy looking at a intricate tapestry on the other side of the foyer.

“I saw three guards during our tour, which means that there must be at least nine in total around here,” Ahsoka continues.

“Do you think we’re in danger?” Barriss asks.

Ahsoka shrugs. “I’ve decided that it’s easier to just assume we’re in constant danger until we get back to Defiance, but I’m open to being proven wrong.”

“These guards are very good at hiding themselves,” Barriss mutters.

“Yeah, but I can still hear them moving and I can smell them too. One of them uses too much cologne.” Ahsoka wrinkles her nose.

Barriss lowers her voice even more. “Have you noticed that a lot of these things are new?”

“How can I not? It’s all Xola has been saying. ‘Mfuneko commissioned this, Mfuneko commissioned that.’ This painting alone must cost a fortune,” Ahsoka whispers back.

“It does. My brother’s going to run us into the poorhouse,” Thandi says. She’s standing right behind them.

“My apologies,” Barriss says, but Thandi shakes her head.

“It’s all right. He started burning through our credits as soon as he became Count. My mother tells him not to spend so much, but he doesn’t listen. He wants to marry me off because he wants my dowry.”

Barriss regards the skinny teenager before her. She’s small for her age, with thin shoulders and deep black hair that cascades down her back. Her skin is also a dark blue, making her yellow eyes pop.

“Do you want to get married?” Barriss gently asks.

“No way! I’m training to be a uhadi musician and I want to tour the moon someday. But I don’t have any choice, like Dumi didn’t have a choice when Mfuneko chased him away,” Thandi says.

Ahsoka waves her hands to stop her. “Wait, wait, wait. Dumi, the brother you guys were talking about earlier? That Dumi? He didn’t ‘flee from grief?’”

“No, he wanted to stay, but Mfuneko and Paki threatened him, so he ran away instead.”

“If I may ask, Thandi, how did your father die?” Barriss asks.

Sadness flickers across Thandi’s face. “I don’t know.”

“Where is he interred?”

Thandi shrugs and looks away, blinking furiously. Barriss and Ahsoka share a look. ‘Yikes,’ Ahsoka mouths.

“Does Senator Chuchi know nice people at least? If I must be married, then…maybe it won’t be so bad,” Thandi says.

“Let’s go talk to her now. Can you show us to the study?” Barriss takes Thandi’s arm in hers and lets her lead them through the mansion.

In contrast to the rest of the mansion, the study is paneled from top to bottom in dark wood. Pantoran constellations are carved into the ceiling, and the bit of walls that aren’t covered in shelves feature landscapes. There are two windows on either side of the desk, but despite the copious amount of light they let in, Mfuneko switches on the lamps and places another log in the fireplace. All of the chairs have fur pelts draped over them, and over the floor is a plush rug.

Mfuneko invites Riyo to sit, and she makes herself comfortable in the guest armchair. Paki softly closes the door behind himself and goes to stand in the corner.

“Please excuse the mess, Senator. I must rebuild my father’s network.” Mfuneko gestures to the stacks of flimsi and data cards scattered over the top of the desk. “Your arrival is a blessing; I understand that you were one of my father’s business contacts.”

“I was. He was one of the first to donate to my initial campaign. He was a good man. A generous man.” Riyo pauses. “I would like very much to pay my respects. Where is the body kept?”

Mfuneko looks to Paki, who smirks.

“Alas, he’s still at the embalmers,” Paki says.

“There, see? Never fear, Senator. You’ll receive an invitation to the drowning,” Mfuneko says.

There’s a sinking feeling in Riyo’s gut, but she presses on. “To business then. I’ll admit that my visit is motivated by my recent visit to Bravado proper.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I was astounded to learn that the public waterfront was closed, and that the only hunters allowed were those directly in your employment.”

“You wish to hear an explanation. I’m sorry to confess that the waterfront has been poisoned. My men have secured the piers for the safety of the people while my hunters investigate the cause.”

“And this investigation requires a sample size of a hundred seal? That sounds excessive, your grace,” Riyo says.

“It is unavoidable. I find it best to leave these things to the experts of course.” Mfuneko says.

“Of course. I only ask out of concern.”

There is a long moment in which nothing is said. There is only the crackling of the fire. Mfuneko and Riyo stare at each other from across the desk.

“My sister requires a husband,” Mfuneko says. “I’ve only just announced it yesterday, and already I have five offers for her hand. But surely you must know at least one young man you might be happy to recommend. In this house, your word as a trusted associate is held in such high esteem.”

Oh, how crafty. Riyo leans back in her seat and considers her answer. The late Count Anathi was a good leader for his people, but he wasn’t quite the political animal. It doesn’t matter who Riyo recommends, what matters is that she recommended them, thereby implicitly giving her blessing to the match. If Mfuneko followed through with her recommendation, which he will, then it would become known that he was in good standing with the Pantoran Senator of the Galactic Republic, thereby boosting his reputation and opening new venues for networking previously closed to him.

All he would have to do is use his fourteen year-old sister to get there.

“I know many suitable people, your grace. I could offer a match for you too, if you wish.”

Mfuneko’s eyes grow hungry and he leans forward in interest. “Would you? That’s very kind, Senator.”

“Matchmaking is such a delicate art, you understand. I cannot just drop their names here and be on my way; I’d be betraying their confidence. I must send them flimsies first.”

“Of course! But what can you tell me now, Senator?”

“I can tell you to expect my message in two week’s time,” Riyo says. Mfuneko cracks a smile.

There’s a knock at the door.

“It seems that’s all we have time for. Enter!” Mfuneko says the last bit in Basic.

The door opens, and Ahsoka pokes her head into the room. Barriss and Thandi are with her, the both of them glancing curiously around the study.

“Hi. Riyo, can we talk?” Ahsoka asks.

Riyo nods and rises from her chair. “Of course. Please excuse us, Count.”

Mfuneko waves it away. “Enjoy the grounds, Senator.”

The four of them leave the study and follow Ahsoka to the conservatory. It’s an odd choice until Riyo notices the dark shapes of guards beyond the glass. The guards can observe them in here, looking as if they are gawking at the exotic plants, and so won’t feel the need to follow them in, but they also cannot hear what they are saying if they keep their voices low enough, nor can they read their lips through the foggy glass.

Impressive.

Barriss and Thandi sit on a wicker sofa and tell Riyo all that they’ve learned. Ahsoka walks the small path around the conservatory as if she’s a casual observer, but Riyo opts to stand behind the last chair and crosses her arms over her chest, listening.

“Has your brother made any trips to the drowning shipwright?” Riyo asks. Thandi shakes her head.

“He only goes out to drink and to hunt, and that’s if he isn’t having a party in the music room. I don’t think he’s ever talked to a shipwright.”

“I see. Perhaps there isn’t any shipwright because one isn’t needed. Ahsoka, do you remember when we went to the Trade Federation ship?” Riyo asks.

Ahsoka grins. “I sure do. Do you want me and Barriss to look around?”

“Yes. Thandi, you and I will distract your brother and give the Jedi time to investigate.”

“How?”

“Why, by playing music. Barriss said you were practicing, yes?”

Thandi smiles and her eyes light up.

Riyo and Thandi leave for the study, and one of the guards follows them. There’s a painful tug on Ahsoka’s heart as the door shuts behind them, and she resists the urge to go after them. Beside her, Barriss also watches them go with a thinly-veiled glare.

“Perhaps this is a bad idea. We’re supposed to be with her,” Barriss says

“Mission parameters change all the time. Riyo will be fine. We won’t be apart for long,” Ahsoka says, even though she still watches the place where she last saw Riyo. Barriss sighs, but doesn’t disagree.

After a couple minutes, Riyo, Thandi, Mfuneko, and the guard pass by again on their way to the music room.

“How are we going to conduct a search while we’re being shadowed?” Barriss asks. “And don’t suggest knocking them out.”

“Okay, but that’s the easiest thing to do,” Ahsoka whispers.

“It’s too messy, the rest of the squad would throw us out.”

“Not if we do it quietly.”

“Quietly?”

Ahsoka strides to the door and yanks it open. She gestures to the guard. “Hey. Come here.”

The guard starts, then points at himself. He’s dressed in dark clothes, and has a sword hanging from his belt.

“Yeah, you. Do you speak Basic?” Ahsoka asks.

“Yes. Little,” the guard says. He turns to face her, wary.

“Where’s the kitchen? Can you tell me where the kitchen is?”

“Yes. It’s there.” The guard points down the hallway, and Ashoka looks, but she turns to him again, confused.

“I’m sorry, where?”

“There, there! Down, then you turn.” The guard comes closer and continues to point.

“Uh huh. Interesting. Thank you.” Ahsoka reaches out and wraps her arms around the guard’s neck in a headlock, then pulls him back into the conservatory. She’s almost half a head taller than he is, so it’s really easy to do. The guard gurgles and scratches at her, but Ahsoka tightens her grip and keeps moving backwards through the conservatory until he goes limp in her arms. She puts him on the couch and makes it look as if he’s taking a nap, then looks at Barriss, who gapes at her.

“Quietly. Although I expected more of a fight, so maybe he wasn’t formally trained,” Ahsoka says.

“You just snatched that man off his feet,” Barriss says in astonishment.

Ahsoka laughs. “I guess I did. Come on, let’s go.”

They sneak through the house, looking around corners to make sure they’re alone before moving forward. When they do see guards, they duck out of sight and Ahsoka uses the Force to knock over something in a different part of the house. When the guard goes to investigate the noise, they sneak past.

At the study, Ahsoka tries the door handle only to find it locked.

“Should I unlock it?”

“No doubt there could be valuable information in there, but I can’t read Pantoran. I felt so useless when I tried to help Riyo with the Kortzeer flimsies,” Barriss says. “Can you read Pantoran?”

Ahsoka’s lek stripes burn. “Uh…no. I didn’t think of that.”

The corners of Barriss’ mouth twitch. “Perhaps we should take Xola’s suggestion and ask the staff what happened.”

The kitchen is tucked away in a different part of the house, only accessible through a nondescript door. Unlike the rest of the house, the cabinets and the counters are done in light-colored woods and stone. Plain tiles cover the walls. In the middle of the stone kitchen floor, atop a tarp, is a half-butchered seal that’s much larger than the one Ahsoka caught the night before. A large, well-muscled man wearing an apron kneels next to it, but he pauses his work to look up at Ahsoka and Barriss when they push through the nondescript kitchen door. A woman in an apron is lining up empty glass jars on the counter, and she looks up too.

“Uh, hi.” Ahsoka waves. “Thanks for the meal. It was delicious.”

The man turns to the woman and speaks in Pantoran. She says something back, and the man turns to them.

“She says ‘you’re welcome.’ My name is Alack, she is Ila. Are you still hungry? Do you want more food?” The man asks in a heavy accent. His voice reverberates in his deep chest.

“We were actually wondering if there was anything odd happening in this mansion as of late,” Barriss asks. “Have you noticed anything strange?”

Alack translates between them. “She says that this entire week, Paki orders her to cook an extra portion of food every meal. He comes to pick it up, but he doesn’t eat. He takes it and goes.”

Ila says something else and Alack grunts in agreement. “It’s a tray. She puts it on a tray for him, and he takes it somewhere else. We don’t know. He doesn’t tell us. He orders us not to follow him. When he returns it, everything is gone.” He pauses again to listen, then, “If there is a knife or a fork on this tray, he leaves them on the counter.”

“That is incredibly odd, thank you. You’re very observant, Ms. Ila,” Barriss says.

Alack translates, then chuckles when Ila replies. “Yes, she is very smart. Ila has actually prepared the next meal already.” He points to the counter next to them, which has a plastoid food tray set upon it. On the tray is a wooden bowl full of soup, a spoon, and several cuts of dried fish.

“Haha, no way. It can’t be that easy,” Ahsoka says.

“It appears that it is,” Barriss says. “Mr. Alack, we would like to investigate this mystery for you and Ms. Ila, but in order to do this we would need to follow Paki. Is there anywhere in this kitchen we could hide?

Alack hums and reaches up to stroke his beard, but stops short when he realizes that his gloved hand is covered in blood. He talks to Ila, and she points at a door at the other side of the kitchen.

“The pantry,” he says. “But hurry, he’s coming soon.”

Ahsoka and Barriss pick their way cross the kitchen, careful to avoid the seal carcass, and go into the pantry room. Ahsoka pulls the door closed so that it doesn’t swing open, but holds it open a crack, so that they both can still see into the kitchen. She and Barriss are crammed together within the small confines of the pantry, and Barriss ends up holding Ahsoka round her waist to keep from falling out.

“At least nine armed men,” Barriss whispers.

“Yeah,” Ahsoka whispers back. She hopes that she isn’t crushing Barriss, but Barriss doesn’t seem uncomfortable at all.

“And if the one you snatched happens to wake up, then he’ll warn them all and everyone will be on alert.”

“Yeah.”

“And they could all be gathered in one place as a result, and would probably be guarding the place where we’re about to go investigate.”

“Yeah. Piece of cake,” Ahsoka whispers. She smiles when Barriss gives her a look of disbelief.

The two of them fall silent when the kitchen door opens again. Paki walks in and scans the kitchen, but his eyes slide right past their hiding place. He talks in Pantoran with Alack and Ila for a little bit, then takes the tray and leaves.

Instead of bowling Barriss over to get out of the pantry, Ahsoka simply scoops her up and carries her out. She crosses the kitchen and, after peeking into the dining room and finding it clear, goes into it and gently sets Barriss back on her feet. Ahsoka puts her hand to her lips and sneaks to the hall to see Paki, still walking down as if nothing is amiss. They don’t move out of cover until he turns a corner and disappears. Ahsoka and Barriss follow him through the mansion until he unlocks and opens a door. He goes through and closes the door behind him, and there is the faint scraping of a key being turned. Ahsoka ducks behind a huge, taxidermy Snow Bear. Barriss hurries to join her, and they wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

Eventually, Paki comes back out, still with the tray. The fish is gone, and so is the soup. He locks the door to the stairs, then makes his way back to the kitchen. Ahsoka stays absolutely still, and only turns to Barriss after the sound of his footsteps fade. She straightens and offers a hand to help Barriss up.

“Think you can unlock that?” Ahsoka asks.

“Of course. Please keep an eye out for me.” Barriss goes to the lock and inspects it, then closes her eyes to concentrate. The Force ripples from her hands.

CLICK.

Barriss’s eyes snap open and she opens the door, revealing a stone flight of stairs going down. “This must be a part of the original castle,” she says. She picks up her skirt and leads the way down. Ahsoka closes the door behind them and follows her.

The stairway opens up to a stone cellar. Segmental arches lead to different compartments within the cellar on either side, and in each compartment and along the center hallway hang simple electric lamps. Within the arches and the floor, stuck in the stone, are embedded iron where the bars were cut away and the remnants were ground flush with the surrounding surfaces.

Further down the hallway, however, are a couple cells that are kept intact. Ahsoka and Barriss run towards them, but another guard comes out of one of the open compartments. He yells at them in Pantoran and draws his sword, but instead of stopping, Barriss and Ahsoka rush forward even faster.

Ahsoka pushes with the Force, slamming the guard’s sword back into its sheath. The guard swears and tries to draw again, but before he can, Barriss leaps at him and slaps her palms into his face.

The guard crumples to the floor, unconscious.

Ahsoka slows to a stop and looks down at the guard’s form in awe. “What? What was that? What did you do?”

“I appropriated a Force-healing anesthetic technique to make him sleep,” Barriss says.

“Kriff, that’s scary,” Ahsoka says, still staring down at the guard. His mouth lolls open as he begins to snore.

“It’s efficient.” But all the same, Barriss’ cheeks glow with the compliment.

“Hello?” A voice comes from one of the locked cells. “Who are you?”

Ahsoka and Barriss go to the cell. An old man stands at the bars, his forehead pressed against them to better see. His gray beard and hair are disheveled and wild, and his clothes are wrinkled. He stinks, and Ahsoka resists the urge to pinch her nose shut. In the cell with the old man is a thin mattress and a chamber pot.

“Count Mafoo?” Barriss asks.

“Yes, I am Count Anathi Mafoo. Who are you? What brings a Mirialan and a Togruta to this place?”

“Senator Riyo Chuchi brought us here,” Ahsoka says, and the man’s bloodshot eyes widen.

“We’re here to investigate your disappearance, your grace,” Barriss says. The Force ripples again as she scans him for injuries.

“Thank the Gods! Thank the Gods. I do not even know how long I’ve been trapped in here.” The man, Anathi, wipes a tear from his face. “You must have seen my family. Are they doing well?”

“They’re mourning you. Your Grace, why have you been locked in here?” Barriss asks.

Anathi’s bushy brows knit together in pain, and he looks down. He says nothing.

About five men, including Paki, run into the hallway from the staircase, yelling in Pantoran. Ahsoka growls and goes to fight them, but they barrel into her and tackle her into the ground. Ahsoka lands hard, the air whooshing out of her lungs. She’s able to grab and throw only two of the guards off of her before they shove her into the closest empty cell. Ahsoka rolls over the floor, then reaches out to catch Barriss when she’s thrown in after her. Paki slams the door closed and locks it, and the guards around him cheer and give each other high-fives.

Paki drops the keyring into his belt pouch, and steps away from the cell bars. “Alive, unharmed. Good.”

Unbridled hot rage wells up within Ahsoka’s chest. If it weren’t for Barriss sitting in her lap, she would throw herself against the bars right then and there.

“You imprisoned the Count?” Ahsoka shouts. “You traitor! He trusted you!”

“You think it was my idea? You think I could do this myself? I’m flattered, Jedi.” Paki turns to the guards and says something in Pantoran, and waits as they pick up the unconscious guards from the floor, then leads the way back out of the cellar. Their voices echo through the cellar and abruptly stop when the door to the staircase shuts. Barriss crawls out of Ahsoka’s lap and watches them through the bars.

“They didn’t take our lightsabers,” Barriss whispers. Sure enough, their lightsabers still hang untouched from their belts.

“Are you complaining?” Ashoka asks. She really shouldn’t be so testy, but her annoyance still eats away at her. It really should have taken more than five fighters to bring her down. A kit could do better than that.

Barriss shakes her head. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect them to be so incompetent. They probably didn’t realize what they were. Jedi aren’t well-known on this moon.” She gets up and dusts herself off. “How did they know we were down here? Were we spotted by one of the guards?”

“There is a holocam. There.” Anathi points a small device that’s bolted to the ceiling next to one of the lamps.

“I see it,” Barriss says.

“Then summon it.” Ahsoka stands and unclips one of her lightsabers from her belt. The bile rises in her throat and her lip rises from her teeth in a snarl. It’s only at the sight of Barriss that Ahsoka realizes that she’s broadcasting her loathing through the Force. Barriss’ eyes are wide, and she hesitantly reaches out to touch her arm.

Ahsoka struggles to reign in her temper. It’s not Barriss’ fault, and she doesn’t know. How could she know when Ahsoka’s never told her?

“Summon the holocam now. The longer we’re in here, the more chances Paki has to confront Riyo about us.” Ahsoka ignites her lightsaber and swings it at the bars, chopping through them with ease. She swings again, and pushes with the Force, making the cut bars fall out and onto the floor with a satisfying clatter.

Kark yeah. Ahsoka steps through with a deep breath.

Barriss summons the holocam, plucking it out of the stone brinks, and catches it in her hands. Bits of stone crumble off from around the durasteel bolts.

“Ahsoka? I talked to Riyo yesterday, about…about your mission. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but if you ever do want to talk, I will listen,” Barriss says.

“Thank you.” Ahsoka helps Barriss through the bars with her free hand. Even if she wanted to tell her, what would she say? How could she even begin to explain what happened during that mission?

Barriss gives her hand a brief squeeze, but when she tries to pull away, Ahsoka doesn’t let go. She really hoped that she would take this to her funeral pyre, because it fills her up with hot shame and she doesn’t think she’s ever going to truly get over it, but it can’t be helped. Barriss offered to listen, and she wouldn’t judge her the way other Jedi would.

“They put me in a cage,” Ahsoka manages to say before her throat closes up.

Barriss staggers back, her mouth open. “A cage? Ahsoka, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. You had nothing to do with that.”

Barriss lowers her head only to eye the discarded, still-smoking bars lying at their feet.

One day, Ahsoka will be able to tell the rest. One day. But right now, she needs to focus on the task at hand. She turns towards Anathi’s cell. “Please back up, sir.”

Anathi’s eyes widen and he retreats to the back of the cell. Ahsoka swings her lightsaber again.

KRRRSH. BVOOSH.

Ahsoka yanks the sliced bars away and tosses them to the floor, then puts away her lightsaber. “Let’s go.”

“Eish!” Anathi mutters under his breath as he steps out of his cell. “I admire your enthusiasm, young lady, but Paki and his men locked you and your friend in here not more than five minutes ago. How do you expect the next fight to be any different?”

“Because this time, they won’t catch me by surprise.” Ahsoka leads the way through the cellar and up the stairs. “Doesn’t matter how many men they throw at us this time.”

“Please don’t kill them. I must deal with them myself,” Anathi says. “The Blizzard God demands that retribution come from the wronged.”

“Cool. Stand back, sir.” Ahsoka raises her foot and push-kicks through the door, ripping it off its hinges and cleaving the deadbolt through the doorframe in a shower of splinters. The door flies out and crashes into a guard standing across the hall, knocking him unconscious. The door and the guard drop to the floor with an unholy crash.

The two other guards standing on either side shout in Pantoran and draw their swords. One of them pulls his arm back to swing down, but Ahsoka catches his fist and punches him in the face. His head snaps back and a tooth pops out of his mouth.

Barriss ducks under Ahsoka’s arm and reaches out for the second guard. She uses the Force to bat his sword away and closes the gap between them, grabbing his wrist and locking her elbow so that he can’t swing the sword anymore.

Ahsoka disarms her guard and lets the sword fall the floor with a clatter. She takes him by the throat and lifts him off the floor, then slams him into the wall. The guard slumps, and she lets him go. Past him, further down the hall, are more guards. They run towards her with their swords out. Ahsoka growls.

The second guard’s sword slips from his fingers as Barriss renders his entire arm numb, and she steps onto the hilt with her boot to keep it from being picked back up. He punches, but Barriss swats his fist away and begins rapidly slapping him where he’s open: across the neck, the stomach, the chest. With each movement, she’s grabbing on to either his sleeves, or his wrists, to control him until she tugs on both of his arms to bring him in. As soon as his head is within range, Barriss grabs his face with both hands, putting him to sleep.

Ahsoka picks up the door and flings it down the hall at the oncoming guards. They shout and some of them duck out of the way, but the ones at the back don’t see it until it’s too late, and they’re hit.

The rest of the guards slow to a stop, wary. They retreat when Ahsoka takes a step forward.

“Surrender,” she says, and they stare at her in confusion. “Ah kark, I forgot. They don’t speak Basic.”

Anathi steps out into the ruined hallway, glaring at the remaining guards.

“Kunika!” He bellows. The guards glance at each other, then fall to their knees.

Thandi is a wonderful musician, although her best instrument isn’t the uhadi. She’d make a lot of credits if she got better at the uhadi, as traditional musicians are a disappearing kind, but not as many credits as she would make playing the stringed batanga. Thandi switched to the batanga after playing just one piece on the uhadi, and she’s played complicated song after song since, her fingers flying up and down the instrument’s neck.

Riyo sits in one of the chairs set around the room, watching. She’s didn’t take to music as a youngling; she never really had time to pursue the art, but she admires musicians just the same.

Halfway through the first piece, Xola came into the room. She gave everyone a tight smile, sat in the chair next to Riyo, and listened to Thandi play. She hasn’t moved much since.

Then Paki comes in. He silently crosses the room and leans down to whisper in Mfuneko’s ear. After a few seconds, Paki straightens up and goes to the back of the room, leaving Mfuneko stone-faced. He turns to Riyo.

“Are you a spy?” He asks. Thandi falters and stops playing, and Xola looks at them in confusion.

“No, and I’m insulted at the accusation,” Riyo says.

“Do not lie to me, Senator. Your associates were caught in the cellars, which are off-limits to guests. They were snooping; you are all spies.” Mfuneko’s voice takes a dangerous tone.

Riyo meets his eyes with an even gaze. “We aren’t spies, your grace. What we are is investigating the alleged death of your father, Count Anathi.”

Thandi and Xola gasp.

“If you required proof, all you needed to do was ask! This is a grievous breach of trust and etiquette. We did not elect you so you could come into our homes and pry into our sensitive business,” Mfuneko shouts.

“Mfuneko, wait,” Xola says. She puts a hand on his shoulder, but he shakes it off and stands up. He looms over Riyo, who doesn’t move.

“The people shall hear of your duplicity, Senator. Your political career is over.”

“I strongly disagree.”

“How are you so calm about these accusations?”

CRASH.

A commotion erupts elsewhere in the house, and Paki runs out of the music room.

“That’s how,” Riyo says. She and Mfuneko glare at each other for an extra moment, then they both scramble to follow Paki. Riyo slips and almost falls, but Thandi grabs her arm as she runs past her.

“Come on, Senator! Let’s go!”

They follow Mfuneko down to to main hallway, right next to the foyer, where they find Ahsoka and Barriss fighting off the guards. Ahsoka picks up a door and hurls it at the attackers as if it weighs nothing, while Barriss slaps a guard into submission, her hands a blur.

“Whoa. Senator, your friends are really cool,” Thandi says.

“Surrender!” Ahsoka shouts, but when none of the guards obey, she sighs. “Ah kark, I forgot. They don’t speak Basic.”

An old, disheveled man steps out behind Barriss and Ahsoka. His gold eyes blaze with anger. “Surrender! Surrender now!”

There’s a pause as the guards hesitate, then one by one, they toss their weapons away and kneel, revealing Mfuneko and Paki. The two of them gape at the old man in horror.

Thandi’s grip on Riyo’s arm tightens. “Baba?” She asks.

“Anathi,” Xola whispers, her eyes wide.

“Run!” Mfuneko and Paki turn and sprint to the front door. They trip over discarded weapons and over the kneeling guards, but they manage to keep upright.

Barriss gasps. “They’re going to get away!”

“No, they won’t! Get down!” Ahsoka picks up a sword and pitches it at them as hard as she can. The blade flashes in the light as it whips through the air.

“Ahsoka, no!” Barriss moves to stop her, but is too late. Thandi and Xola scream.

But the sword misses Mfuneko and Paki entirely and embeds itself through the doorframe and into the door itself, jamming it closed. Paki grabs the sword handle and tries to pull it out, but it’s stuck fast. He staggers back and falls to his knees.

“We’re done.”

“No, get up!” Mfuneko frantically tugs at the door in vain.

“We’re done! Stop!” Paki’s shout echoes through the silent house.

“Mfuneko. What have you done?” Xola asks.

Mfuneko turns to face Anathi, his face all purple. “Ruling Bravado has long since overwhelmed you! Your foolish insistence that we not industrialize keeps our people poor! You think I’m still a child?”

“Are you mad?” Anathi screams.

“I am not mad! You should have made me the heir! I know you’ve never liked me! Which one of you have ever cared about me? Which of you has ever thought about me?” Mfuneko starts crying halfway through his speech.

Xola sobs. “He is your father!”

“And I should have killed him!” Mfuneko thunders. “I hate him! I hate you all!”

A deafening silence follows. Ahsoka and Barriss lean down to whisper to Riyo.

“What are they saying?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Riyo absently whispers back.

Xola draws herself up, enraged. She goes around Thandi and Riyo and slowly crosses the foyer towards her son, her footsteps filling the silence. The guards shuffle to the side to let her through, and the closer she gets, the more Mfuneko backs away until he is pressed against the front door. Even though he is head and shoulders taller than his mother, he cowers now before her.

Thandi buries her face in Riyo’s shoulder, and even Paki and the defeated guards look away.

Xola slaps Mfuneko across the face.

Barriss, Ahsoka, and Riyo stay put as Anathi orders Mfuneko and his conspirators to be locked in the cellar, in the remaining prison cells, and the staff escort them down. Thandi waits until they are out of sight before running to her father.

“Baba!” Thandi envelops him in a hug, crying. Anathi laughs, then kisses Thandi’s forehead and murmurs something to her in Pantoran. Xola watches them with tears in her eyes.

Barriss smiles. While they weren’t supposed to come here at all, it’s difficult to consider this wasted time. She could think of worse things to do other than returning a man to his family.

“Senator, Master Jedi, you have my deepest thanks,” Xola says in a thick voice.

Riyo smiles. “It’s the least we could do, my lady.”

“Please, please come with me to the parlor,” Xola says.

Along the way, she gives gentle orders to Ila, Alack, and the rest of the staff. They bring out brooms, dustpans, and other tools to help clean up the aftermath of the fight. Alack goes to the embedded sword and grunts as he tries to pull it out.

In the parlor, Xola sits in the armchair and gestures to the couch. Riyo sits down, followed by Ahsoka and Barriss, who flank her.

“What can I do to repay you?” Xola asks.

“Live well. “My job is to serve the Pantoran people. Your happiness is reward enough,” Riyo says. Both Ahsoka and Barriss turn to stare at her. It’s astounding how gracious she can be. How effortless she makes it look.

Xola shakes her head. “There must be something more.”

“Perhaps access to a comlink. We need to message Defiance about urgent matters.”

“Alas, we don’t have a comlink strong enough here.”

“Isn’t there one in the local college?” Barriss asks.

“No, they tore the comlink tower down to build a more advanced one. It won’t be ready for another month.” Xola stands up and goes to the door, where she beckons to one of the staff. After a whispered conversation, they leave and return with a tray of supplies. Xola takes the tray with thanks, then sits back down in her chair. On the tray are flimsies, a handheld embosser, a stylus, and a small, velvet sack.

“All Galactic Senators are equipped with the latest portable comlinks, yes? You would be able to com Defiance from here if you had yours,” Xola says.

Riyo flushes indigo. “I might have been robbed, my lady. You’re rather perceptive.”

“Once does not become a countess through ignorance, Senator.” Xola takes up the stylus and begins writing in elegant script. “No identichips, no comlink. We must fix that.” She finishes the letter with a flourish and embosses it, then folds the flimsi and puts it into an envelope. She embosses flap of the envelope too, then seals it. Ahsoka whispers to Riyo.

“Was your letter of rec for Sanele supposed to look like that?”

Riyo sighs. “Yeah.”

“Please take this letter to vouch for your identity, and these five hundred credits with our thanks.” Xola holds the envelope and the velvet sack out.

“My lady, it is too much. The letter will do,” Riyo says.

“All Snow Walkers need basic supplies, and it won’t be the first time this house has funded you. It won’t be the last either. Now take these gifts.”

Riyo takes them and slips them into the interior pockets of her suit jacket. “What will you do now?”

Xola puts the tray to the side with a sigh. “There is much to do. We must auction off all of the tacky decorations Mfuneko bought, and then we must clean up the aftermath of that little skirmish. I must send messengers into town to muster the Bravado Security Force, to call back the hunters and open up the piers, and also to the records office to revoke my husband’s death certificate. I must also send word to Dumi that it is safe to come back. And then…and then perhaps I might have dinner with my family. Will you stay the night?”

Riyo glances at both Barriss and Ahsoka, and Barriss must have looked uncomfortable, because she says, “We must be off, my lady. Snow Walkers have long journeys.”

Xola gives them a warm smile. “Of course. Defiance is but a ferry ride away. Should any of you come back, this house will always be open to you.”

Want to read this on Ao3 or on FF.net? Click here for the links.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #Ahsoka Tano #barriss offee #riyo chuchi #fanfiction #fanfic #artillery writes

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bugheadfamily · 6 years ago

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Day 7 - Fanfic Author Appreciation Week

(thank you @betty-cooper for this gorgeous gif!)

*waves* Hi everyone! @bugggghead here. Both @theheavycrown and I have been trying our hardest to spotlight every single author in this fandom but did you know there are more than we originally anticipated?!?! Did you know we have so many authors in the Bughead fandom alone that 70 just wasn’t enough?! Because we have too much love to give, we’ve chosen to do some author spotlights on the @bugheadfamily blog as well and spread AS MUCH love as we possibly can!!!

Today is the final day of Author Appreciation Week! So we will be highlighting fifteen authors today and two of their works that we recommend you check out right here!

@quirksandcaffeine (ao3)

It Happened One Night (E - 7/?)

Summary: "'How about a toast instead?' he said, raising his glass.

'Sounds like perfection,' she said, leaning her elbow onto her crossed knee and placing her chin into her hand, holding up her glass with the other.

'To tonight,' he said as he clicked her glass with his own.

They each took a sip, looking each other in the eye as they swallowed. Her eyes flicked down to his lips as he leaned into her ear. Her heart started beating harder at the smell of his aftershave.

'Go wait for me in my office,' he whispered as he kissed her on a cheek."

Gods and Monsters (E - 1/1)

Summary: "In a land of gods and monsters, I was an angel." Betty, her cheerleading uniform, and her dark side visit Jughead at FP's trailer.

@nimmieamee (ao3)

Three Wishes (E - 18/18)

Summary: Betty Cooper wants to return to a time when her mother was more consistent, Jughead was more hers, and a looming civil war wasn't breaking up her friendship with Veronica. Veronica wants to keep her friendship with Betty and for the town of Riverdale to recognize everything the Lodges have to offer. And Alice isn't being upfront about what she wants.

But at least one of them will see all her wishes come true.

Are We Dark Enough Yet? (T - 1/1)

Summary: Scenes from the town with pep! (That is, Perpetually Enraging Plots).

@cheryllclayton (ao3)

I Could Be Your Hero (T - 1/1)

Summary: After a tragic end to her relationship results in bullying and hate, Betty Cooper struggles to hold on in a world where she feels invisible...where she feels nothing except for the siren call of Sweetwater River....And after a nasty encounter, Betty makes a decision that will change her life forever...Will this once vibrant soul be lost to the icy abyss of her sorrow before an unexpected hero can convince her to live...

Til' There Was You (M - 5/?)

Summary: Betty Cooper's life has been anything but easy and at 25 she was still struggling to find herself.

Jughead Jones wasn't the type to go looking for love, but what happens when it finds you? Or more correctly, when it hits you like a ton of bricks when you least expect it....

@shirlygallagher (ao3)

What’s Past is Prologue - series (M - 9 works)

Summary: A chronicle of firsts...A tale of discovery...A story of love...~~~

In Between The Sweet Hereafter (M - 1/1)

Summary: What could have happened in that kitchen? Takes place during and after episode 13.~~~

@fictitiousoshine (ao3)

Mercy (M - 13/?)

Summary: Innocent and Naive Betty Cooper wants to run away from heinous man who has her captive for years. She seeks Toni’s help for arranging cash but Toni has different plans for her that include Serpent Prince Jughead Jones.

@kazookidissosoabuggie (ao3)

A Night To Remember (NR - 1/1)

Summary: Jughead and Betty went through a bad rough patch, something they almost couldn't fix. When they did eventually reconcile, Jughead feels terrible for what he had done to her. After he pulls a romantic stunt, the night they spend with each other turns magical instantly.

Anything's Possible with Us, Cooper. (M - 1/1)

Summary: Jughead punches somebody after they body shame her and Betty finds odd but extremely sexy.

@hbiccjsblog (ao3)

Citas Amor (T - 11/11)

Summary: Betty Cooper works for Scarlet magazine along with best friends Veronica Lodge and Kevin Keller. Veronica wants to work in fashion but has been stuck on the desk for a couple of years now. Kevin runs the social media plat forms. Betty Cooper well she's a journalist after all. It runs in her blood. After having a very heated conversation with her mum about setting her up with a boyfriend. Before there family holiday to Spain. Her Best friend Veronica Lodge suggests a fake boyfriend. Her publisher over hears the conversation and wants her to write an article about fake relationships.

Touring Flame (M - 9/?)

Summary: Betty Cooper has just been deployed to Afghanistan for her first tour of her career. She is the medical solider for the tour. Joining the army way a spur of the moment decision. If she didn't get through well at least she can say she tried. Jughead Jones was on his 4 tour in Afghanistan. He was the Head of his group. A fairly experienced soldier. He has a heart of steel. He's seen and experienced a lot. He was expecting this tour to be the same as his other tours. Expect this was different. A certain blonde pony tail, green eyes type of different.

@judgejuggie (ao3)

from pink perfection to seduce scarlett (T - 17/?)

Summary: Betty is living in her sister Polly's shadow, darkness clouding her vision, afraid to show her true colors to anyone. With a little push from a new student named Veronica Lodge, Betty joins the vixens and gains the confidence she has always wanted. Her bright smile and confidence get noticed by Southside Serpent Jughead Jones in a diner at Pop's, and Betty for the first time in her life feels something other than the darkness that's been following her around.

Of course, there will be some obstacles along the way, one by the name of Cheryl Blossom, and the other may be a gang. But Betty wants change, and she's finally ready to go for it.

love and the law (M - 5/?)

Summary: What if there was more to Betty’s vendetta against Chuck Clayton, more to her darkness? What secret is Betty working to keep buried? Can Jughead help her through? And, what else will come their way? Join this emotional, heart-breaking journey to heal and learn that love really can conquer all.

@jordansconnor (ao3)

some aces up your sleeve (M - 5/9)

Summary: In Las Vegas, the only things hotter than the summer days are the card tables on the Strip. High roller Jughead Jones lives for the heat, spending his days in board rooms and his nights at high stakes poker games, until the night a mystery girl takes the seat across from him. From that moment on, his luck starts to change in ways he may not be able to handle.

Keeping Up with the Joneses (E - 1/1)

Summary: Jughead Jones is the undisputed king of Riverdale. His grandfather is the mayor, his father owns half the town and controls Riverdale’s shady side as leader of the Serpents, and Jughead is Riverdale High’s student body president and editor of the school paper. His relationship with Betty Cooper, Southside student and new Serpent recruit, could bring it all crashing down.

@soyforramen (ao3)

Cry to Me (G - 1/1)

Summary: Quick one-shot. When Betty and Jughead find themselves stood up by a certain red-head, a little dancing goes a long way.

Persuasion comes to Riverdale - series (T - 2 works)

Summary: Years after he left without a word, an engagement throws Jughead Jones back into Betty Cooper’s life. The only question is, will she let him back in? Or, Persuasion comes to Riverdale.

@srainebuggie (ao3)

Stronger Than Me (M - 11/11)

Summary: Betty Cooper wasn’t like most girls. She was strong and independent, leather was her skin and hitting the punching bag her saving grace. Betty didn’t commit to people, she had fun. When she moves to Riverdale, she shows up at the White Wyrm looking for a job.

Jughead Jones wasn’t like most men in the Southside. He sported his Serpents jacket rarely, lived in a penthouse apartment, and was the owner of their towns infamous club, the White Wyrm. Jughead didn’t give his heart to anyone, he had fun. When a new woman moves to Riverdale, she shows up at his bar looking for a job

As Betty and Jughead spend more time together on the job, will they break their own rules and admit it’s more than just fun?

Future Bughead - series (NR - 5 works)

Summary: Jughead and Betty broke up years ago and reunite at the grand opening of Veronica's clothing store in New York, the dress she is wearing reveals a small tattoo on her ribs, when Jughead notices, he asks about it. At first her face goes red and she tries to ignore her embarrassment, but he pulls up his dress shirt and reveals his own small tattoo on his side

@sweetbettycooper (ao3)

The INXS Life (M - 8/?)

Summary: Two gangs alike in tyranny both holding two souls that are destined to be forever entwinned.

Was their love tragic or the circumstances around them or was it the events that would occur in the coming months that would make their love the most tragic of all.

Jughead feared on this afternoon in summer, of the consequences that were hanging in the stars.

She was gorgeous. Like the angel of death had come to Riverdale. Jughead new he had to have her.

Or Serpent Jughead meets Ghoulie Betty, forbidden love, Gang wars, Love, Passion.

@witty-tv (ao3)

Exhale (M - 7/?)

Summary: Anxious stoner babes Cheryl Blossom and Betty Cooper have been best friends and roommates since freshman year of college. Cheryl and Toni Topaz are seriously dating, drawing Betty and Toni’s best friend Jughead Jones together. Betty is instantly attracted to Jughead and Jughead is immediately intrigued by Betty. The two become friends, and as they grow closer, Jughead slowly but surely starts to fall for Betty - and eventually Betty shows Jughead the ways weed can help his insomnia.

@dreamer757 (ao3)

The Typewriter (G - 1/1)

Summary: Jughead goes to Betty's house after he opens her gift in 2x09.

The Sad Breakfast Club (T - 11/11)

Summary: A Breakfast Club AU where Archie, Betty, Jughead, Veronica and Kevin aren't friends, but end up spending a whole Saturday together at school.

@merrybughead (ao3)

Announcement (G - 1/1)

Summary: “I - I know it’s personal, but are you guys thinking about it?" Jughead shrugged him off. “Wait, you look weird.” Archie narrowed his eyes to study Jughead’s appearance, “Are you smiling?” “I don’t smile.” "Why are you so happy?” “Betty and I are just...Happy,” She smuggly stated. Cocking a brow to the side, he said, “Oh, I get it.” “Honestly I don’t think you do,” Jughead laughed which sent his ginger friend into laughter as well.

How were they supposed to tell their friends if they had already been guessing and hinting towards it?

Leather and Cotton - an unlikely combination (G - 1/1)

Summary: In an alternate universe where Jughead was raised as serpent king and has been attending Southside schools. Barnes & Noble, Betty's secret safe place from all the rumors and stress that school brings...until she realizes there's a certain leather clad wearing serpent that is most definitely sitting across from her. She knew men like him. They weren’t after girls like her. She's been compromised. Where the unlikely combination of leather and cotton elicits a spark between two polar opposite people.

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