#Primary Care in Old Bridge

[gkhealth]

Comprehensive Primary Care in Old Bridge, NJ: Your Path to Lasting Health and Wellness

Having a trusted primary care doctor by your side is invaluable when maintaining optimal health. In Old Bridge, NJ, residents turn to Dr. Mehandar Kumar at GK Health PC for personalized, comprehensive care that supports their well-being. This article explores the importance of primary care and why choosing Dr Kumar for your healthcare needs is the right choice for you and your family.

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[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | 2.8 | Jake Seresin x Reader (18+)

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Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warning: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, manipulation, sucky parents, grief and manipulation, lying, distressing themes throughout but especially towards the end of the chapter. Graphic violence, dangerous situations, revenge, wc: 3.5k

For as long as you can remember, you had known that your father was going to be president. It was always discussed as a given. It was the coup de grace; he had been working towards it much longer than you had even been alive.

Those fourteen hour work days, and sleepless nights. The hard decisions and the time away from his family. All along, Matthew had sworn that it would be worth it. It would, one day, be enough.

Then, the first set of polls came in after those primary debates the summer before his first election run and with it, intel that Matthew plunged a sixth of his savings in to. Politics and bribery go hand in hand across most of the world; this wasn’t even the first step off of the beaten path. 

The intel was clear as day; It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough. All of that time, and work, and desperation that he poured into his career, it wasn’t going to be enough to win him the presidency. The guarantee was next to nil.

But there was still time.

He remembers one evening, in particular, sitting with his advisors in his home office, and just sobbing. Every birthday he had missed, every milestone — it was all going to be for nothing. 

“Look, Matt,” Arnie had said, stubbing his thin rolled cigarette out into a crystal ashtray and sitting back in the leather arm chair, sinking into it like the lazy waste of space that he was. He was a good friend of the family back then. “There’s still time. We’ve got options, buddy. Plenty of ‘em.” 

Matthew had rolled his neck back slowly — he still remembers the stress-induced stiffness those days had caused him —  and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, Arnie? — And what options are those?” It was a biting remark, untrusting and downright hateful by that point. Arnie had promised many things already, and rarely had delivered. On the times that Matthew thinks back to his twenty year friendship with Arnold Paulson, he finds himself glad that that asshole now resides six feet under.

The older guy had just shrugged, letting that snide little smile creep across his face. “I know a guy. I think he might be able to, uh… help you out. For a fee, if you get where I’m coming from.”

Ellis Armstrong. After three days, and more phone calls than you care to remember, you have a name. He’s a business-man, and a rather successful one at that. Works in corporate development — he’s not hidden from the public eye like you would expect a guy like this to be.

No, he’s got thirteen offices spanning three continents and a portfolio that would put the Forbes list to shame. Once upon a time, he had been a friend of the family. It’s easy to piece together the headshot of him sitting at the wide, mahogany desk in his new office and the fuzzy memories of the tall man in your father’s office late at night.

You remember him distinctly. The sound your bare feet had made, tiptoeing down that long, curving staircase in the old house. Far past your bedtime, your princess nightgown grazing your ankles. The halls dark, illuminated by lights pouring out from under doors. The house was never really empty back then. Pushing open the heavy pocket doors that separated your father’s office from the parlour. 

The gaunt, tall blond man sitting in the armchair. His sunken eyes that had seemed so dark in the dimly lit room. His thin lips and hollow cheeks. The long, straight nose and the deep lines between his brows. Skeletal and still, he had looked like a monster. Something that belongs in the dark, lurking in wait. 

“What are you doing up, princess?” Matthew had scooped you off of your feet and suddenly you were looking at him instead, in all of the warmth and glory and familiarity of a man adored by his little girl. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” You remember, but it’s hazy now. You don’t remember the softer, higher pitch of your voice or really what had made the man in the chair quite so scary looking, or what had driven you out of the safety of your bed that night. 

There’s a fondness to his smile in those hazy memories, a softness to his touch that feels so far away now. The stars and unicorns on your bedsheets, and the stuffie he had tucked under your chin. The safety of your childhood bedroom, with the warm pink glow of your nightlight and the embrace of your stuffed animal. How far away the fear of that man in the chair had felt once your father had kissed the top of your head and closed your door.

It doesn’t just feel far away, it is far away — everything about it. Your parents no longer own that house, you’ve long outgrown that bed and that stuffed animal ended up in the donate pile after one of your big moves. You’re no longer hiding from the scary man sitting in the armchair; you’re looking for him.

“I don’t understand,” You do, but showing your cards has never been part of your strategy. The woman opposite you forces her creasing mouth into a deeper frown as she pulls her coffee cup protectively closer. “Tell me, exactly, what you remember about your time working for my father.”

If Allen knew where you were, he would skin you alive. If Manny knew, he would be right here with you. If Jake knew, you wouldn’t be here at all. He would have locked you in a hallway closet before he let you set something like this up. 

The woman sitting opposite you is a timid little redhead with big brown eyes and a disposition that brings new clarity to the term ‘afraid of her own shadow’. She’s jumpy, and looking over her shoulder constantly. You, are considerably cooler for a person more alone than they have been in more than a decade.

Her name is Ida — she was your father’s personal assistant the year before his first election, and it cost you to even get her to this cafe in Pasadena. You remember the long skirts and the narrow glasses, but you don’t remember Ida being quite so… afraid.

“He wasn’t— he isn’t a bad man, darling. That’s what you have to understand, it’s just that—“

“Ida, slow down.” You bite, growing tired of this. You don’t have long before someone notices that you’re gone, if they haven’t already. The sky outside is grey, and sullen, the cafe is almost empty for now but the lunch rush is approaching. “This isn’t about whether he’s a good guy or not. Tell me where Ellis Armstrong comes into this.”

Sitting opposite you, the mouse-like woman’s eyes turn wide like saucers as she shrinks down further into her seat, wringing her hands into the checked fabric of her skirt.

“He wasn’t going to win the election by himself. There was intel out there that… painted him in a bad light.”

“Details, Ida.” You click the pen and stare across at her impatiently. She swallows softly and checks around her again.

“Your father had an affair. It was all going to come out — it would have tanked any kind of campaign he could have put together, and you remember what times were like then… the kind of money it would have taken to make that go away…” The coffee mug in front of her scalds her trembling hands as she finally lifts her chin enough for you to look her in the eye. Raindrops start to beat into the sidewalk outside. A silence sets across the coffee shop as the soft indie playlist stops between tracks.

If you were still little, padding barefoot along the hall in your princess nightdress, this would have hurt so badly. The warm smile and his gentle disposition — and he was already betraying you, even then. You’re not little now. It doesn’t hurt like it would have then. You scrawl messily across the page.

“What was her name, who did she work for?”

Ida pauses briefly, blinking. Truthfully, she hadn’t been expecting this calculated coldness from you. She’s seen the videos of the frightened girl clinging to her bodyguard. She wonders how far he might be from you today.

“Suzy Blake. She was a political analyst for the New York Times back then.” Ida tells you, turning her head and checking through the rain-dotted front windows of the shop. You scribe the information and look back up to her, unsatisfied.

“All I’ve got on this is your word?” You prompt her.

“And her daughter — Matt never took a paternity test, but Suzy was always so sure.” This, Ida can see it worm its way under your skin, writhing under those years of collected conditioning. She blinks across at you and taps her nails against the coffee cup, glancing down at the milky liquid.

You have never heard of Suzy; couldn’t even begin to picture what she looks like. Her daughter would be nine, at least, maybe older. She could look like you, maybe. You press your lips together and grind the tip of the pen into the lined page, threatening to leave indentations of your anger through the rest of the book at once.

“So, Ellis paid for her to disappear?” You confirm, looking back up at Ida with an iciness that gives her a glimpse of her former boss. 

“Ellis paid for a lot of things.” Ida answers you suddenly faster than she has in the entire hour that you’ve been sitting here. She doesn’t look at you as she says it, lifting the mug from the saucer and taking a long drink of her latte. The liquid shivers in the cup, disturbed by her trembling fingers.

“Ida.” You sigh, growing frustrated. She turns her head and looks towards the window again, craning her neck slightly. Frightened of her own shadow, you condemn her cowardice. “Details.”

Her eyes follow two raindrops as the grey droplets race along the windowpane. “He bought the presidency for your father.”

Your father is a proud man. He has told you the story plenty of times, of how your grandfather had tried to give your parents the down payment for a house, how your father chose to spend his first year of marriage in a studio apartment rather than taking it. Back then, you wouldn’t have believed he could do such a thing.

Now, you aren’t sure where to draw the line on where your beliefs lie. 

“Extra campaign funding, promotions, big names,” Ida’s cup jingles as she sets it rockily back down onto the saucer. She turns her head back to the table, but avoids your gaze nonetheless. “Votes. Ellis made it all happen. He saved your father’s career.”

Your gaze flicks up from the scrawled information on the page, and lands on her hands. She picks restlessly at her cuticles, her attention shifting to every corner of the room but you. Your brows draw together seriously, taking a moment to check the empty space around you before you focus on her. 

“And what did my father do to him?”

Such a clever little girl — that’s what Ida remembers most of you. So inquisitive, and engaged. So interested. It’s such a shame that no one had time for you, you really deserved someone who would have answered those wonderful questions you came up with.

She swallows softly, unsure of exactly how much information is encompassed by the umbrella of ‘everything’. In her industry, you never let go of all of your secrets at once. That’s just bad business.

“He ran for re-election,” Ida says calmly, her voice more confident sounding, even in its soft tone. She exhales slowly. “And, after the successes in his first term, it became clear that he could win the presidency again. Without Mr. Armstrong.”

Across the table, you set the pen down on the edge of the notebook and check the time on your watch. You should be getting back before Allen has time to deploy a whole search party. 

“Again, Ida… I’ve just got your word on this.” You remind her. A jaded assistant from nine years ago isn’t exactly the concrete evidence that you broke out of your house for. The fear in her eyes is all the proof you need, but that won’t stand up in court.

You’ve been thinking about that a lot recently, as your research has deepened into your father’s past. You came across a picture yesterday, where he was your age, and smiling in the foreground of a Greenpeace conference. It struck you to consider if that young man would hate the man he was going to become as much as you have grown too — if maybe the two of you would have gotten along once, if things were different.

If you would be able to stand up in court and send the smiling young man, with the purest of intentions, to prison. 

“You’re right,” She starts to shake her head and her chair scrapes across the floor. The loudest sound that has come from her all day. She twists in her seat and grabs her jacket and her bag from the back of her chair. “You’re right, I can’t prove this. This was a bad idea…”

Your eyes go wide as she scrambles for her things. “No, Ida, wait—“

She pauses, briefly, to look you in the eye. “I’m sorry.” She turns swiftly, and heads for the door, dinging the bell above it and slipping out into the sheets of grey rain outside the door. You slam your notebook shut and fumble to slip it into your back, all thumbs and no fingers, stuck in the struggle as she disappears from the view of the front window. 

“Shit…” You mutter, slinging the bag onto your shoulder, forgetting your coat completely as you head after her. She’s much faster than she is loud. Rain chills your cheeks and dampens your hair before the bell above the door is even done ringing. Your shoes slap against the pavement, splashing fresh rainwater onto your jeans. You round the corner and squint through the grey ahead of you in search of her.

Her plaid skirt dips behind a car up ahead as she crosses to the driver’s side.

“Ida! Wait!” You call out for her, securing a hand around your bag as you jog to keep up, rushing for the blue sedan as she ducks into it. It doesn’t take you long, her hands are shaking too much to get the keys into the ignition. You slow, but don’t make it to a complete stop, reaching out to knock hard against the passenger window, as something cold, sharp-edged and hard slams into your right eye socket.

Your elbow hits the ground first, then your knee, then your left temple, before your body collapses to the wet pavement all together. Thrown off balance and reeling, your years of conditioning haven’t ever prepared you for this. Your skull aches, throbbing like you’re being hit with that first impact over and over, before you even feel the fingers curling around your arms and hoisting you off of the ground.

The car door clicks open. Blood rushes to the right side of your face, swelling in circles to form the deep bruise that will be left behind. Slow, blinking, your eyes drag themselves open and blink as you realize that it wasn’t the door of the car that opened. A second impact comes, but this one isn’t stone — it’s all skin. You can feel the warmth of the hand, and the ridges of each knuckle, as it drives forwards into your face.

After that, you can only imagine how easy you make for them to get you in that trunk. It hurts too much to open your eyes. Maybe that’s a pathetic thing to think, as you start to think of what they’ll do to you next — what pain is yet to come. But, it’s dark anyway, and in here, at least you’re alone. Your phone is in the bag. Maybe that’s still on th pavement, or maybe it’s in the car. But it isn’t with you. 

Each turn sends you forwards or back, your body rolling over the thinly carpeted trunk, slamming into the back of the seats or the metal of the hatch. You can feel your face swelling, the heat from it stings like a burn.

Jake’s going to be so angry with you, for doing this to yourself.

Maybe it’s just a short ride, or maybe you black out a little on the way, there’s no way of knowing for sure. But, when your eyes feel open, they’re trying to focus to the new bright light after ages of dark. When they’re closed, it doesn’t look much different.

It’s cold, and the echo of the voices around you tells you that the space you’re in is wide open and empty. A warehouse, most likely. The perfect spot for an execution. 

You’re held up by a hand on each of your arms, and your feet drag, scrambling for leverage against the ground as they tug you forwards. There’s some fight left in you after all. If it lasts long enough for someone to figure out where you are, that’s another story. You should have told Manny. Or left a note. Something.

The country is going to put your father on a pedestal when he’s grieving the loss of his beloved daughter.

Abruptly, you’re thrown down into a chair and your arms are torn backwards, making you cry out. Rope. Heavy, and fraying, rough against your wrists as you’re bound to the metal backing of a wooden chair. Fingers dig abruptly into either side of your cheeks, pressing the flesh of your mouth into your teeth until you’ve got no choice but to open up in complaint.

 The second that your lips part, something is forced between them. A dry rag. It’s tied tight at the back of your head, digging into your cheeks, muffling your sounds of struggle.

Muffled and restrained, there’s no way to defend yourself when another blow comes. It hits the centre of your face hard, another fist, this one harder than the first. Not pulling the punch in the slightest. Instantly, liquid streams from your nostrils and the taste of copper floods your tastebuds.

Your screw your eyes shut and force yourself to blink, you force your eyes to adjust. You refuse to surrender your last sense. Gradually, the room steadies and your vision focuses. It’s grey and industrial, illuminated by a singular lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. Empty, almost, bar a few storage crates, and a scary man sitting in front of you.

He smiles softly as your gaze settles on him and burns with rage.

“I know, I know,” Ellis offers with a small smile. He gives a small shake of his head. “This is none of your fault, darling. I know that. I’m sorry, really I am.”

You’re silent opposite him, your heartbeat thudding in your ears, sickened by the fact he has the satisfaction of watching you bleed. Turning your head slightly, you catch sight of the two men in your peripheral. Security, you guess, in case you do something.

This time, when you turn your head, you aren’t scared. The man in front of you is afraid of little, old you — so much so, that he needs backup.

“But Matt has a debt that I’m… not willing to forgive.” Ellis is wearing a green crewneck and black jeans, not like the suits in his pictures. This must be a casual kind of affair for him. His thin lips twitch, hinting at a smile as your gaze remains, unwavering, on him.

Saliva pools in your mouth, copper-tasting as your nose continues to stream with blood. It saturates the makeshift gag, spilling down your chin, your jaw aching and numb at the same time, pins and needles stinging through your hands as the restraints bruise your wrists. 

“You understand, don’t you? — Smart girl like you, you get why we had to go after you, I mean.” Ellis sits opposite you with his long legs stretched in front of him, his palms braced on the cargo box that he is perched on. Maybe it’s because he’s closer now than he ever was before, or maybe it’s just because you aren’t a little girl anymore — but you look into those dark, hollow eyes and there’s not a fibre of your being that needs your father to rescue you from him.

“Fuck you.” You spit. It’s easy enough to pretend that the damp rag secured around your mouth doesn’t cut into the corners of your mouth when you speak. You’re stronger than that.

Ellis presses his lips together and sits forwards, his gaunt face leering closer to you as he twitches towards a smile. He lifts one of those bony, skeletal hands and reaches for his phone, angling it towards your bruised face. “Don’t worry, darlin’ — we’ll get you back to your boyfriend soon enough. Just smile for the camera.”

tags: @alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox@desert-fern @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter@shawnsblue@itsmytimetoodream

[tempestuous-tempest]

Romancing Reginald "Wrench" Blechman

I've gotten an informal request for more Wrench headcanons this time, Romance ones. I have done romance in the past with one that was for more than just Wrench as well as one for an astronaut s/o. Here are my other Wrench headcannon lists; 1, 2, 3, 4.

Dates:

Improvised more often than not. He doesn't think to plan them out most of the time and so they are often spontaneous.

Going shopping at a Walmart just to get kicked out from riding shopping carts around the store or playing basketball in the toy isle or sword fighting with wrapping paper or sticks from the arts and crafts section.

Spray painting curse words and middle fingers all over bloom buildings and Haum. Hacking Albion drones and using em and cause some havoc.

Watching new action movies like Deadpool and Wolverine.

Scaling the Golden Gate or the London Bridge and harrassing locals by hacking their radios and changing their music.

Racing. Obviously. Especially if it ends up in a high speed chase.

Love Language(s):

Physical Touch is his most primary form of showing affection. He's clingly as all hell. Hand holding, hand around your shoulders, little sweet mask kisses that kind of hurt. Of course when you're in private the mask comes off a bit.

Quality Time is his secondary form. Spending time with you is something he enjoys. It can be as much as taking you on a date or as little as just standing near each other at his workshop.

Acts of Service falls in the middle. He likes pretending he can be a gentleman. Opening doors for you with a little "My lady/dude", fixing something you broke and put on the waiting list of things you need to fix later, and/or buying donuts and coffee for you in the mornings for breakfast. Be careful though, if you sleep to late, he'll sit there and eat em all himself.

Gift Giving. He'll probably tinker with some things and make a gift for you every once and a while. Gives him something to do. With his hands when you're not around and he cant just hold you. Sometimes he'll buy you things or if you

Words of Affirmation dont exactly stick with him. Anyone can say they love another and the words can be as hollow as bird bones. He doesnt like how empty the words can seem even if spoken with real love.

Bonus:

Expect pranks. Nothing harsh like "Oh I'm breaking up with you". Just something actually funny. Prank wars between you two are inevitable.

Absolutely throws a fit when he can't have your attention like a two year old in Walmart being told he can't get something he wants. He pouts when ignored.

[earthstellar]

Concept: TFP Ratchet with a cane.

Maybe he gets called out to assist in the field after someone gets injured, but in the process he gets thrown around by a Vehicon and it's one blow too many to a joint, perhaps his right hip or knee, and it cracks and misaligns.

Sure, once he addresses the injuries of the others, he gets up on his examination table (with Optimus' help) and gives himself a good look-over, he can get it back in the socket reasonably well, but it's just not fully repairable with their limited resources on Earth -- and his age and general wear over so many centuries means it's a trickier repair with a longer recovery time.

He can't really fix it, and it's not really going to heal on its own.

The fracture welds need strong nanites to fully integrate, and his nanites are pretty tired. The damage to the socket means the joint could slip out of place again relatively easily.

So, he makes himself a cane, and even though he doesn't say it out loud, he's very glad that the others hold back any comments they might have about it.

Because he is now well and truly unable to go out in the field at all for the foreseeable future.

Even if he utilises his alt-mode, off roading in the rocky desert terrain of rural Nevada is too much physical strain on his injured joint. His shock absorbers just can't manage it.

So he fits himself with a limb brace to hopefully help prevent any repeat misalignments, but he can't put all that much weight on it. He can't fully rotate it, which limits his range of movement a bit.

He's slower, he has to be more careful, he can't stand at his terminal or his work station for so long anymore.

It's a difficult adjustment.

Rafael helps.

He notices how much Ratchet is struggling at first, and does his best to distract him by asking him to sit and teach him more Cybertronian, teach him more alien coding, help him with another school project.

Anything he can do to remind Ratchet that he is still so important and useful and irreplaceable.

And the others linger around a bit (but not too obviously, or so they think) in an effort to help where they can, too.

If his cane slips out of his grip, Bumblebee is there to pick it up. When he can't get himself up on his examination table to monitor his welds, Optimus picks him up and sets him down.

When he gets too anxious or depressed about not being as able to assist in the field anymore, the others take the opportunity to get a break in and wait around a little longer if they can, just to reassure Ratchet that they're OK and they're watching each other's backs and they'll keep him updated and they love him all the same.

Optimus is always through the ground bridge first, always gives a full report to Ratchet; When they are at base together, Optimus is found with Ratchet more often than not. As much time as they can spend together, they do. Ratchet wants all the details, and Optimus wants to be there for his old friend.

After a while, Ratchet starts to teach the others basic field first aid, out of the sheer anxiety of worrying about not being able to go out and assess/retrieve anyone on the field himself.

Everyone tolerates it at first out of a desire to reassure Ratchet that they actually can take care of themselves and each other, but the knowledge very much does come in handy, in more ways than one.

Does it make Ratchet feel a little bit more like he's not needed as much anymore? Inevitably, a little bit, yes.

But everyone does their best to make sure Ratchet is involved in everything he can be, everything he wants to be, as much as possible.

They might know how to identify and solder someone's primary fuel line in an emergency scenario now, but nothing and nobody can replace their medic.

Eventually Bulkhead and Wheeljack surprise him by making him a custom Cybertronian style wheelchair so he can get around the base a little easier when walking with the cane is a little too difficult for him, so he doesn't have to keep getting up and sitting down over and over again.

Agent Fowler makes it clear that if they need to redesign the base to accommodate more space for Ratchet to get around, he can and will make that happen at any time. Whatever is needed,he'll deal with any whining from his higher ups.

Ratchet may or may not have been genuinely touched by this; If you heard him get choked up, no you didn't. :')

Eventually Ratchet does adjust, but the first few weeks/months are hard for him.

But all the support, subtle or otherwise, from his teammates and the humans alike makes it easier and easier to get used to.

(And he is proud of Rafael's progress with Cybertronian language. Time well spent, even if it's not being spent in the field anymore.)

IDK just thinking while I'm on my lunch break lol

[ridenwithbiden]

Read the letter President Biden sent to House Democrats telling them to support him in the election

WASHINGTON (AP) — President Joe Biden wants Democrats in Congress to know he has no intention of exiting this year's election, sending them a letter on Monday on his personal letterhead.

Here is Biden's letter to the congressional Democrats whose backing he likely needs:

"Fellow Democrats,

Now that you have returned from the July 4th recess, I want you to know that despite all the speculation in the press and elsewhere, I am firmly committed to staying in this race, to running this race to the end, and to beating Donald Trump.

I have had extensive conversations with the leadership of the party, elected officials, rank and file members, and most importantly, Democratic voters over these past 10 days or so. I have heard the concerns that people have — their good faith fears and worries about what is at stake in this election. I am not blind to them. Believe me, I know better than anyone the responsibility and the burden the nominee of our party carries. I carried it in 2020 when the fate of our nation was at stake. I also know these concerns come from a place of real respect for my lifetime of public service and my record as President, and I have been moved by the expressions of affection for me from so many who have known me well and supported me over the course of my public life. I’ve been grateful for the rock-solid, steadfast support from so many elected Democrats in Congress and all across the country and taken great strength from the resolve and determination I’ve seen from so many voters and grassroots supporters even in the hardest of weeks.

I can respond to all this by saying clearly and unequivocally: I wouldn’t be running again if I did not absolutely believe I was the best person to beat Donald Trump in 2024.

We had a Democratic nomination process and the voters have spoken clearly and decisively. I received over 14 million votes, 87% of the votes cast across the entire nominating process. I have nearly 3,000 delegates, making me the presumptive nominee of our party by a wide margin.

This was a process open to anyone who wanted to run. Only three people chose to challenge me. One fared so badly that he left the primaries to run as an independent. Another attacked me for being too old and was soundly defeated. The voters of the Democratic Party have voted. They have chosen me to be the nominee of the party.

Do we now just say this process didn’t matter? That the voters don’t have a say?

I decline to do that. I feel a deep obligation to the faith and the trust the voters of the Democratic Party have placed in me to run this year. It was their decision to make. Not the press, not the pundits, not the big donors, not any selected group of individuals, no matter how well intentioned. The voters — and the voters alone — decide the nominee of the Democratic Party. How can we stand for democracy in our nation if we ignore it in our own party? I cannot do that. I will not do that.

I have no doubt that I — and we — can and will beat Donald Trump. We have an historic record of success to run on. From creating over 15 million jobs (including 200,000 just last month), reaching historic lows on unemployment, to revitalizing American manufacturing with 800,000 jobs, to protecting and expanding affordable health care, to rebuilding America’s roads, bridges, highways, ports and airports, and water systems, to beating Big Pharma and lowering the cost of prescription drugs, including $35 a month insulin for seniors, to providing student debt relief for nearly 5 million Americans to an historic investment in combatting climate change.

More importantly, we have an economic vision to run on that soundly beats Trump and the MAGA Republicans. They are siding with the wealthy and the big corporations and we are siding with the working people of America. It wasn’t an isolated moment for Trump to stand at Mar-A-Lago and tell the oil industry they should give him $1 billion and he will do whatever they want.

That’s whose side Trump and the MAGA Republicans are on. Trump and the MAGA Republicans want another $5 trillion in tax cuts for rich people so they can cut Social Security and Medicare. We will never let that happen. Its trickle-down economics on steroids. We know the way to build the economy is from the middle out and the bottom up, not the top down. We are finally going to make the rich and big corporations pay their fair share of taxes in this country. The MAGA party is also still determined to repeal the Affordable Care Act, which could throw 45 million Americans off their coverage. We will never let that happen either. Trump got rich denying rental housing to Black people. We have a plan to build 2 million new housing units in America. They want to let Big Pharma charge as much as they want again. What do you think America’s seniors will think when they know Trump and the MAGA Republicans want to take away their $35 insulin — as well as the $2,000 cap on out-of-pocket prescription costs we Democrats just got them? Or what do you think American families are going to think when they find out Trump and the MAGA Republicans want to hit them with a new $2,500 national sales tax on all the imported products they buy.

We are the ones lowering costs for families — from health care to prescription drugs to student debt to housing. We are the ones protecting Social Security and Medicare. Everything they're proposing raises costs for most Americans — except their tax cuts which will go to the rich.

We are protecting the freedoms of Americans. Trump and the MAGA Republicans are taking them away. They have already for the first time in history taken away a fundamental freedom from the American people by overturning Roe v. Wade. They have decided politicians should make the most personal of decisions that should be made by women and their doctors and those closest to them. They have already said they won’t stop there — and are going after everything from contraception to IVF to the right to marry who you love. And they have made it clear they will ban abortion nationwide. We will let none of that happen. I have made it clear that if Kamala and I are reelected, and the nation elects a Democratic House and Senate, we will make Roe v. Wade the law of the land again. We are the ones who will bring real Supreme Court reform; Donald Trump and his majority want more of the same from the Court, and the chance to add to the right-wing majority they built by subverting the norms and principles of the nomination and confirmation process.

And we are standing up for American democracy. After January 6th, Trump has proven that he is unfit to ever hold the office of President. We can never allow him anywhere near that office again. And we never will.

My fellow Democrats — we have the record, the vision, and the fundamental commitment to America’s freedoms and our Democracy to win.

The question of how to move forward has been well-aired for over a week now. And it’s time for it to end. We have one job. And that is to beat Donald Trump. We have 42 days to the Democratic Convention and 119 days to the general election. Any weakening of resolve or lack of clarity about the task ahead only helps Trump and hurts us. It is time to come together, move forward as a unified party, and defeat Donald Trump."

Sincerely,

Joe Biden

Joseph R. Biden Jr.

President of the United States of America

July 8, 2024|Updated July 8, 2024 11:48 a.m.

[data-dominant]

(the message comes in a folded piece of paper; neatly constructed out of the thin, horizontally lined sheet it is written on. in a scrawling handwriting, the following words can be read: )

Dear Data,

I often find myself wondering the best way to slip you a message of this sort. Sending it through the communication systems seems too cold and impersonal. It may be a bit old-fashioned to write you a note, but what can I say; I always aspire to be at least a little surprising.

Regardless, the point of the message: more and more often I have been noticing you. On the Bridge, in Ten-Forward, Engineering. I admire your form, Data, and some nights have been captivated with trying to recreate it in my mind. I find you very entertaining, even from a distance, though a little intimidated by the thought of approaching you; the thoughts of what you could do to me scare and excite me in equal measure.

I do not expect a response - after all, my message is quite sudden - but perhaps, if you would like to reach me, please feel free to leave me a note in the Arboretum's marigold patch.

( at the bottom of the note, a small scribble is drawn in place of where a name would traditionally sit. - 🌿 )

Interesting handwriting for an otherwise neat and orderly message. Immediately, he is combing through memory engrams to compare this to any other handwriting he's seen before, though handwriting is less common with PADDs being the primary source for communication. Whoever it was took great care in preparing and concealing this missive.

He'd be lying if he wasn't immediately intrigued by the mystery this secret admirer posed. The paper itself was relentlessly analyzed for further clues, but finding no scent or appreciable trace of organic material means he would have to respond as instructed. Replicating fine cardstock and a modest fountain pen, he settles at his workstation to pen a response:

To whomever finds this message at the appointed spot,

I admit, your letter finds me intrigued, not only for the mystery it represents, but for the forward nature of its contents. You are well aware that I enjoy puzzles of this nature, how much else do you know about me?

I suppose I should thank my creator for designing my form to be so pleasing to your eye. However your eye may frame my fearful symmetry, know that I am not beyond approaching. To put me on a pedestal only keeps me out of your reach.

I would very much like to discuss those thoughts of me that keep you awake through the early hours, and perhaps help inspire your imagination further with more tangible references, if you would meet me in person.

I will be looking forward to your next correspondence,

-Lt. Cmdr. Data

He only hopes the response is well hidden enough to avoid being intercepted by prying eyes.

[bajis-wife]

Retro wave

Synopsis: Every individual has something that they are missing or lacking in their lives, whether it be a person, a purpose, or something else entirely.

Will they be able to fill those gaps and find satisfaction or a purpose, or will they be left perpetually incomplete?

And what better way to describe this journey and character development than in a fan fiction? Where they embrace life to its fullest, make mistakes and grow while hiding their true flawed tint, that lost it's meaning long ago.

Will she finally achieve her childhood dream of becoming an artist? Using their smudged and sketchy colors to paint on the canvas of her life, or will she settle for more sophisticated one's?

Will the painting in the end be enough to engrave the memories passed together?

Warnings: Swearing, explicit profanities, illegal doings, VERY LONG.

Notes: This is the full version of my story on wattpad ‘Retro wave’ until now there are only five chapters if we count the prologue too, I only want to get some feedback and attention for all the work i put in it and for the readers to enjoy it as this isn’t your usual insert self story.

The background of the character is already decided and specific although the appearance is not, so you can perfectly put yourself in it without reading Y/N or anything annoying like that.

New topic, tattoos.

Often seen by those stiff elders with a closed mindset as something bad, permanent and idiotic.

How about I give you my perspective of it?

Tattoos aren't just stupid impulsive mistakes that last forever, they are one of the best ways someone can ever express themselves with; Words are useless to describe someone compared to the feeling of your fresh virgin skin being inked, making whatever part of your body a masterpiece. Flamboyantly taking away the virginity of your flesh.

Am I romanticizing it too much? Probably, but honestly who cares when you're being paid to do what you love?

After my last customer headed out, I took a deep breath and walked into the foyer of the shop which I personally customized, from the soft lighting to the comfortable furniture.

As I sat on the couch, spreading my limbs to then relax them, breathing in and out slowly, closing my eyes, focusing on the deep dark of my mind as existential thoughts started to flow into my brain.

Out of all I focused on one only.

Am I even making a difference?

This day surely has worn me out as it brought me to thinking about something so distant when I'm still young and beautiful.

Why bother thinking about legacy? I'm here now making most of the present moment, my future isn't written yet so screw legacy. I'll deal with that later after I've had my fill of fun and adventure, so don't talk to me about it.

I'm too busy living the dream, your dream.

It's reassuring to know that in my chaotic existence I'm not living under a bridge and have a place to call home.

But even chaos is born from something or someone; And I was born from my immigrant parents in Italy, just to be sent to my home country.

What a way to start life huh?

Only a couple months old and my parents already had enough of me, sending me to my grandparents with the excuse of learning their and now apparently my mother tongue.

Jokes aside, they loved me from the bottom of their hearts.

Four years later I came back to finish the remaining two of kindergarten and finally start primary school.

But oh boy, from there my life has been a downhill roller coaster of emotions. As childhood optimism had brain washed my mind into thinking it was going to be a wonderful experience.

Not realizing that from the very first day of school I was thrown into the cage of lions.

For the first, second and third year they weren't nothing but buzzing noises in the background, as I felt drained from being in that class.

As now I was in fourth grade, and already tired of everyone there but him.

Now you might wonder who this kind soul is?

Simple, my first love.

Brown wavy locks that gently swayed every time he tilted his head, capturing my gaze with those dark brown eyes.

With that little beauty mark under his right eye, that everytime he offered me one of his sweet smiles would make my heart melt.

But the thought of seeing him every day made me push through all of that.

I could relate to thinking it was simply him and I against the world. But there's more to the story. Love is blind, as they say, and we sometimes need time to accept it, one way or another.

Certainly being served the fact that he likes another girl in our class, wasn't the best.

I felt as if the world crashed onto me.

But maybe the other girl didn't feel the same? Maybe all of this was one sided love like most of the time between kids, I could just go and ask her if she feels the same.

Simple as that.

I was relieved to find out she didn't feel the same, my burdens lightened; Not realizing that by doing this little thing to relieve myself I broke his trust.

Making him the new target of mockery in our class, as that girl couldn't keep her mouth shut.

The classroom isolated me too, labeling me as the snitch, well deserved I guess?

But what hurt me the most was him slowly distancing himself from me, it was a gradual process. Yet the most painful for me, and heartbreaking for my parents to watch their daughter suffer from it.

After finishing my fourth year, I was transferred to a different school, one where I was welcomed with open arms. Spending my last year of elementary school there, forming good friendships as I grew more confident with each day.

I learnt the fine art of blending in while also standing out in society. Once I completed my fifth year in elementary school, I started my middle school journey, confidently prepared for whatever came my way.

However, fate had other plans.

I ended up being way too overconfident, and it bit me in the butt.

The universe had a way of humbling me and remembering me nothing lasts forever, each and every time you start from zero with the help of your past experiences.

So now you ask me how would I describe those three years of middle school?

Hell.

This time I was fortunate enough to have a loyal friend who was alongside me, Anastassia.

Together we helped each other and formed a lasting bond that would only become stronger as time went on.

She was one of those friends that even you meet again after a long time, I'm talking about months and years. It felt like time stood still with her.

Anastassia made the time fly by before you knew it, and with her by my side, I felt a timeless sense of comfort and peace. Whether we spoke of distant memories or made new ones together, it was as if we had never been apart.

After we finished middle school we had to part ways, she chose to focus on studying languages while I wanted to study art.

High school offered a much-needed fresh breath of air. There people seemed too occupied with their own personal struggles to bother with my actions, which brought back my laid back confidence that mixed with the release of dopamine.

I no longer felt restricted by the confines of social expectations or the constant judgment of others, instead focused on exploring who I was, and what I wanted from life in a less constrained and more meaningful way.

In less words I stopped caring about what others thought.

This newfound sense of freedom allowed me to truly come into my own, and shaped me into who I am today.

From studying there I also got to meet two wonderful girls that today moved and live with me in San Francisco.

First I came across Lara whose light brown shoulder length locks were highlighted with buttery blond highlights. Her eyes were surrounded by thin metal square frames, which perfectly empathized their beautiful vivid hue of maroon.

Lara's aura was like a magnet for those around her, drawing people like moths to a flame. Drawing the attention of boys who lusted for her and girls who envied her, leading to gossip and telling vicious rumors about her. Yet these attempts of destruction failed, as she continued to radiate joy and positivity.

Truly looking up to her for it, wondering what her secret was.

And so, the truth was unveiled.

One day, I found her smoking cigarettes in the school bathrooms, and the habit gradually became something I expected to find her doing from then on.

I had no intention of dictating her choices.

However, I still held hope that she would make a conscious effort to stop the unhealthy coping mechanism of smoking.

But despite her habit remaining the same until this day, many things about Lara have changed over the years.

Her hair for example, her once buttery blonde locks now styled in a choppy cut, with a side-fringe and even a bold red dye job to top it off.

These changes have altered her previously bubbly image, giving her a more mature and confident flair, though it's hard to say if that is simply the result of growing up.

Her charming and bubbly personality remains as captivating as ever, and she has not lost any of the charms and magnetic personality that constantly goes in contrast with Lia's one.

The living room everyday was an area of contention, Lara's smoking habit often irritated Lia through the smell that easily flowed through the apartment, as the confined space made it difficult to avoid breathing the smoke.

Arguments between them would always end in Lara sulking in the corner, while Lia walked away fuming from anger.

I don’t blame for her intolerance towards smoking.

She was an open-minded person, but when it came to smoking, she had zero tolerance. So, it's only natural that she would be upset whenever she caught Lara smoking inside.

Anger issues weren't the only trait that characterized her.

No, not at all.

As those curls of hers kept her craziness in check, but it somewhat from time to time it managed to escape from those lips of hers, making her say the most mean and absurd statements sound true and convincing.

If her lips were mean, then her eyes shall be the sweet ones. Green and hazel hues coloured those irises, as they held such beautiful mystery and charm.

And yet they also held a glimpse of her fiery anger and held up frustration, which sometimes exploded out, turning her captivating eyes into fireflies that burned through my soul.

A mix of raw emotion and magnetic influence made her memorable and endearing, as her presence was one that was hard to forget.

Lia truly was a girl of many colors and contradictions.

Although the two women have brought their fair share of excitement and adventure into my life, there's always room for more.

If the gods offer more and more delicious fruits on the branches of life, it would be a shame not to indulge in a little more of what makes it sweet and delicious, wouldn't it?

After all, life is made interesting by new experiences and challenges we encounter, and who are we to deny more enjoyment?

Not knowing I've jinxed for good my future, for thinking like that.

As the sound of the phone alerted me about a new message.

Unfortunately not notifying me about the consequences it will bring to my unsure future.

The number was unknown, but as I read the message and realized it was from Lara, I let out a sigh as I shook my head.

I was used to her borrowing other people's phones to send me messages or call me when her iPhone died, but I still felt a slight sense of annoyance.

Constantly reminding her to change it into maybe one of some other brand, whose battery didn't die immediately after being charged.

Fuck the aesthetic. Even an eighty year old could last longer in bed than those phone batteries.

With a groan, I rose to my feet, taking the keys of the shop out of my pocket as I slid one sleeve than the other of my cardigan.

I held onto my phone in one hand while the shop keys were in the other, as I exited the door.

After the store was properly locked up, I set my sights on the parking lot where I had left my 2006 BMW M3. Talking about it, it was probably the best deal I had scored in my entire life.

Quickening my pace while searching for my keys as I neared the parking lot, making my way over to the red sports car that stood out among the other vehicles, looking like a beast ready to devour the roads with its raw power and beauty.

After finding them, I unlocked the car and sat in the driver's seat, ready to drive away.

Starting the engine as now the powerful roars could be heard, feeling the humid air come in through the slightly open window, breathing the fresh yet familiar scent of the night.

With everything set, I put the car in drive and started making my way to the exit of the parking lot.

Speeding through the freeway, with wind coming through the window making the end strands of my hair fly back as adrenaline pumped into my veins.

But it soon came to an abrupt halt as I found myself stopped at a red light.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, traffic rules were sure pesky; Still I had to follow them, while I waited for the annoying red light to become green.

As the smooth, soothing tunes of "House of balloons" by the Weekend filled my car, my mind was at ease and my soul at peace.

Enjoying myself before the storm, commonly known as Lara, could enter my car.

Talking about the devil, there she was on the other side of the road talking with someone.

A man to be precise.

They still continued conversating, as I focused on the new individual.

His shaggy butter blonde strands swept to the side and his imposing lion tattoo were hard to miss, as they commanded attention.

Shifting my gaze at the now green light, I stepped on the gas pedal and proceeded toward the roundabout, making a sharp turn as I went back to them.

Parking my car just a few feet away from them as I yawned, hitting the horn two times to let her know I was there.

With a jolt, Lara turned to my direction to then say something to her companion earning a chuckle from him, while she motioned for me to come over.

Weird, she usually doesn't involve me with her flyings—What was she trying to pull here?

Frustrated from the long day of work I just compiled with her request, exiting my car and shutting the door behind me as I approached her and the man.

I looked at them to notice the blonde's stare was on me, probably he wanted me to burn holes into my skull for interrupting his moment with Lara.

At least that's what I believed until I was in front of them as he offered me a supposed charming smile.

"Nice to finally bump into the talk of the town." He made a little dramatic pause to then add.

"The name's Madarame Shion, but you can call me sir, if you're into that kind of thing." A devilish grin spread across his face as he introduced himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm and bravado.

You only needed to hear that, to know that he was the type of man who looks better with his mouth shut.

Eyeing Lara as she looked confused about Shion's introduction, considering her words before putting on one of her best smiles and finally breaking the awkward silence, "He is just a little full of himself today, don't mind him."

Wrapping her arm around his as she tried to justify him.

"I wouldn't call it being full of myself, more like pointing out the different possibilities my little minx." He remarked with a toothy grin, only a few inches separating his face from hers.

There was clearly something between them, but no way I was letting that guy try to woo her in some way.

"Right, a little minx huh?" I interjected with a sneer as it was now time to put this guy into his place.

And I surely didn't mind doing that.

"Well, if you're going to be throwing around names, then I suppose I can call you a douche." Locking eyes with him while my lips rose into a mocking smile.

Shion seemed more amused than annoyed by my response, as if he enjoyed this back-and-forth insult exchange.

Licking his teeth to then speak "If she is my little minx... Then you shall be my little vixen." This time leaning closer to me as he was trying to control the situation, perfectly knowing how to get under someone's skin.

It was futile trying to beat him this way, as it seemingly was his best field.

This would have taken time to bring him down from that supposed throne he believes he is on, and embarrass him when he is with Lara so she would leave him, but right now i didn't have the time nor the patience to do so.

So I did what I should have done from the start.

"It's late we should get home Lara," Motioning for her to come as I gave one last glance at Shion before saying "It was shit meeting you, hopefully I won't see that ugly face anymore."

Opening the door of my car as I waited for Lara that was still hesitant to leave.

"Why can't we stay out a bit longer? I mean, it's Friday night and we don't have anything to do tomorrow..." She said trying to convince me as her voice was dripping with disappointment at the idea of returning home so early.

Still I gave her one last look as an ultimatum, and she didn't do anything but walk in my direction complying to my order, sighing like a little kid since she was in no place to argue when I was the one driving.

The only one still calm was Shion watching us intently with a smug smile on his face as he added "Oh yeah? You're pretty annoying yourself,"

Both of us were already in the car as it didn't take much before we exited the momentary spot where I parked it.

"But that's what makes you endearing. Sweetheart" He concluded talking to himself.

Leaving him there, as the speedometer raised and lowered its pointer.

The car ride was silent until I stopped at a red light taking the opportunity to look at her, so maybe she will fill in the blanks and explain what the hell I needed to interact with him.

To which she just responded with, "Do I have something on my face?" Saying this as she moved the rearview mirror towards herself to check.

I was now looking at her like she just killed my family.

"How many times have I told you that the rearview mirror isn't to check yourself out!" Examining exasperated as I tried to fix the mess she just caused, only for her to start fiddling with the car radio as she browsed through the different channels.

Finally settling down for one to then look at me as she leaned into her seat, "So what do you think about Shion?"

To which I answered.

"I'm thinking about how much weed you've smoked to even see something in him," sighing to then add.

"Lara I'm seriously thinking you have a talent to find self centered assholes."

This story continues with a man whose ambitions drove him to obsession.

Kisaki Tetta, a man who both instills fear in others and arouses hatred. Not just any ordinary criminal, but rather, one of the men who rules the darker depths of the criminal underworld of Japan, pulling the strings behind the scenes and manipulating those below him to his will.

All in order to find peace and escape his weak past self, who failed to stand-up to the cruelties of this unjust world. By any means necessary, he sought to reach the position that he currently holds.

No one could oppose him, not even her.

Tachibana Hinata, his sweetheart. The girl in which words and praises he found shelter, words that even his own mother didn't say to him if there wasn't any perfect test score that accompanied his request of appreciation.

Her kind and straight forward personality truly caught him in its embrace. Making his past self desire more kind from the young girl. She was truly his first love, or at least in his eyes she will forever be.

She had saved him mentally, and yet he was unable to save her physically that fateful afternoon when they first met their hero.

Hanagaki Takemichi, a walking wannabe defender of justice. Mock him how much you want for being beat up after making his entrance, still he was able to offer her comfort and protection when she needed it.

He truly admired his bravery and was thankful to him for saving his muse, if taking the hit instead of her was considered saving.

Then so be it!

Next time he will be the one protecting Hina.

But there wasn't a next time and there never will be. Hina didn't get into trouble, and after that day her parents enrolled her in some self defense classes.

Yet their life's took different paths after they graduated elementary school, forced to part ways by the wishes of their parents.

Still managing from time to time to cross paths when going to buy groceries, it was fascinating to think about their friendship, going from being close friends at school to distant acquaintances outside of it.

He adored those moments he got to spend with her, her voice was so smooth to get him to space out sometimes

—Life was still good for him.

Or so he thought, till the start of the second year of middle school. Hina started to space out multiple times while they talked, which was very unusual for her.

This left the young man feeling confused as he tried to make sense of her behaviour. It was like she was physically there but her head was elsewhere.

In conclusion there was something else going on beneath the surface that Kisaki was unaware of; Still it wasn't that big of a mystery as she later confessed that she and Takemichi go to the same middle school.

Until here it was all fun and games.

Fool, he shouted victory too early and as a result he was taken back to discover she had been harboring feelings for the boy since their first encounter.

Otherwise from Kisaki, Hinata was and never will be a bystander especially when she was in love, more than ready to battle for Takemichi's one.

And weeks later in a spring evening, he was welcomed not only by allergies but also with the news of her being in a romantic relationship.

With none other than the crybaby hero himself.

He should have understood it by now, nothing good in this world comes for free and lasts forever.

He could cherish them from afar and trust them to not do anything stupid, but if he didn't take matters into his own hands; He would be just a passing phase for the lives of the two lovers.

His mind was a mess as many of his beliefs became doubts, but about one thing he was certain. He wanted her, the thing he lacked for that made him fall in love with her.

What his beloved considered pure platonic friendship for him became a full time obsession, not essentially on her but also on her so-called boyfriend.

Takemichi, the admiration he had in his regards

didn't take much time to turn into resentment and disgust.

Beginning to despise everything about him; Starting from that new bleach job that he got done, making him look even more of a bigger prick than he already was.

Ruining Hina's image with his choice of joining the delinquent world like many of their peers.

Sure he remained the same brave idiot he knew, still he became nothing more than a trouble maker to the public eye.

Always wondering why girls often romanticized being in love with delinquents, fantasizing any possible love story with them.

Couldn't they be happy with a regular guy?

How could troublesome and dumb clowns like them be attractive to girls?

Maybe it was their appearance? The charisma that some of them had?

No, it became crystal clear now. It was the seek of thrill in their life.

To have someone who will protect them, go on late motorcycle rides, boys who aren't afraid of judgements.

He was just a gifted boy with an average and easy life. Waiting for his happiness.

He had nothing to offer to no-one, destiny couldn't do anything with his useless life.

This was a big mistake he had made; Waiting for people to walk right into his life, and then expect them to stay. Only one person did, Hina.

But even she could walk away like she walked in. He couldn't afford losing her.

And there he is thirteen years later. Still hasn't lost hope on having a relationship with her.

Looking through the car window, gazing upon some carefree birds flying in the afternoon sky;

The sun gave its last rays for the day, as the chilly air hit his face hinting the approaching of fall season.

How he wished to spend a peaceful evening like this with a cup of tea in his hand, enjoying the warmth of the sun while he still had the chance.

Instead he was in a car driving him to attend a meeting regarding the incompetence of his subordinate.

His appearance was absolutely flawless, with silken vanilla blond hair pulled back by a touch of old and practical gel as light danced across his blue scrutiny eyes which gazed at the horizon through the glasses he wore.

His outfit was a sharp beige suit, perfectly complemented by a tie that matched the hue of his eyes like no other combination could.

Finally entering the gates of the unique complex of coloured buildings. Tinted glass hiding the different illegal doings inside of them, prostitution being the main of course.

After all these were the Haitani headquarters.

Waiting for him in front of the main building was Hanma Shuji, his infamous right-hand man, a crazy bastard ready to do anything for some thrill and action.

His tall, lanky figure made it easy to distinguish him from the sea of people entering and exiting the structure.

Those golden irises bore sharp and fiery glares which were contoured by the lens of the glasses covering the man's eyes.

His gaze was lazy and casual as he searched for something to pique his interest, constantly moving from place to place and person to person.

Just when he spotted a familiar car pulling up, the bland expression was quickly replaced by his trademark mocking grin.

In just a split second he was standing at the curb, ready to open the door for Kisaki.

Without a moment to spare ready to greet him and show his efficiency and promptness.

Jokes on you, he just wanted to taunt him even this early in the morning by making various snarky comments.

After opening the car door, their usual dynamic began to play out.

"Kisaki! I see that you're perfectly on time and busy as ever…Wonder if you ever take a break?" Breaking the ice with a bit of light-hearted teasing, to then afterwards ask.

"What would the occasion be, if I may ask?" His boss didn't even give him a glance as he started to walk towards the entrance.

Hanma couldn't do anything but follow right behind him, this was a classic behavior Kisaki had in his regards, how could he blame him though?

He knew he was annoying and used that to his advantage, but these games weren't so effective on his superior.

Walking straight ahead to the elevator, it seemed like Kisaki was cutting in half the lobby. Which was teeming with low-ranking scantily dressed prostitutes.

To which his subordinate being the gentleman he was let his eyes wander around, like he hasn't seen this already multiple times.

Shamelessly observing his surroundings, and all of them had a good package, just saying.

And when he got to the elevator there was his boss waiting for him, spitting the most vile and hurtful words to him and his dick.

But honestly he couldn't care less of what the shorter male said, if he was alright with anything that brought him to feel the thrill.

And to top that off, what would be more satisfying than seeing the one that offered him that fall apart? As his childhood dreams shatter.

Silence filled the elevator ride, until unexpectedly the shorter one broke it.

"Has Shion updated you on his progress? Because from what I've been told, he's been wasting time smoking weed and drinking,"

'Annoyed' wasn't quite the right word to describe his attitude. Instead, he was getting fed up quickly with Shion's bullshit, I mean who wouldn't?

Despite the length of time that they'd worked together, Hanma didn't grow weary of his boss' behavior, enjoying the show whenever he could; Like it was just an ordinary day in the office for him.

Prior to dismissing the subject as unimportant, "It's not my problem that you chose someone so incompetent for such an important task."

Earning a sharp glare from his superior to then backfire.

"Oh really? Wonder who advised me to send him for it, you know what? You're right; It's my fault for listening to some worthless bastard like you."

Hanma raised his hands and casually replied, "What can I say? Guilty as charged." Accepting his guilt as a sign of amusement and carelessness, dismissing his boss concerns completely.

"Wow we got a comedian over here?" His companion said with a sarcastic tone. "You certainly seem to be enjoying this, don't you?"

He surely was.

"If you're enjoying this so much, how about you go fix his mess?" Kisaki snapped back with a sarcastic tone followed by a challenging statement, saying, "Surely you won't mind, since you find this so amusing."

By sarcastically stating that Hanma wouldn't mind, he implied that fixing the situation was his responsibility in the first place.

"Oh please, who got your panties in a twist? Why the hell should I be included in this? It's his fault man."

He very well knows how much of a selfish and reluctant individual Hanma Shuji is; loves to laugh about someone else's mistakes, but dream on to actually seeing him helping them.

"It's not for you to choose to do so, Reaper. It's an order." With these words, his superior made it clear that this was not a request but a demand that as his subordinate had to follow.

And of course his tongue-in-cheek nature had to butt in along with his nonchalant attitude, nodding his head in a gesture of mock obedience saying, "Then I shall comply with your request, my sir."

But he very well knew his and Shion's life's were at risk, which honestly added more thrill to the thing.

Then a ding concluded his last thought, indicating that they reached the top floor, letting his boss exit first to then follow right behind.

Two male figures were walking into the halls of the police station, one proceeding with his fast peace while the other tailing right behind him, trying to lose the distance between them attempting to reason with his companion on a matter this last one didn't understand.

Or let's rather say he didn't want to understand...

"Kazutora, can you be reasonable for one time? You can't decide to do things on your own, especially now that you're in an organization!" There he goes being ignored by his friend, again.

Chifuyu was concerned about Kazutora's behavior, as the latter was consumed by guilt and self-blame due to Mikey's disappearance.

It turned into casual sex in a futile attempt to escape his own guilt and the memory that haunted him.

"Let me put it in a language you can comprehend. I'm exhausted at having to deal with so much paranoia every day," With a slight turn and a sharp exhalation, he faced Chifuyu, his eyes tired as he continued.

"If we continue like this, someday that picture on that board may turn out to be our single and final memory of Mikey!" For once, he truly did understand him, lacking the desire to blame him instead he wanted to free him, just like he did when he saved him from the grip of an abusive father.

It was explicit that his friend blamed himself for Mikey's crimes, and Chifuyu couldn't reason with his stubborn ass.

"Have a nice day Matsuno." With this last statement he made his way to the stairs.

He only hoped he wouldn't do anything too reckless like he did in the past...

But he clearly underestimated his companion.

In a certain way, he was able to relate to Kazutora, as the latter was similar to his younger self of thirteen years ago.

However if he in his teenage years failed to accomplish a much simpler rescue plan, statistically talking it's not like his friend had a much bigger chance of succeeding, if not lower.

Arriving at a point where he wondered if he should drag Baji's corpse out of the grave, revive him with some kind of ritual, so he could knock some sense into Kazutora's head, first with punches and then words as he usually did back in the day.

Seriously speaking though.

The concept of a gang originated from the ambitions of Mikey but especially Baji during their childhood; As the last one idolized Shinichiro, the older brother of the first one.

Also best known as the commander of the first generation of the Black Dragon, the most powerful biker gang in Tokyo back in the 90's.

The duo harbored the desire to follow the footsteps of their idol, wishing to create a gang of their own and live out their youthful fantasies.

So when the right time came, with the help of those who would eventually be known as the core members of its creation, namely Sano Maniiro, Riyuguji Ken, Baji Keisuke, Mitsuya Takashi, Hayashida Haruki and Hanemiya Kazutora, they officially gave life to Toman.

Even if the latter ended up in juvenile detention, it didn't stop the enlargement of it.

As the gang was more than just a part time thing, as it had a cherished place in the hearts of the captains and their vices.

And three years later it was living fully its era of gold, being recognized as one of the most powerful biker gangs of Tokyo.

But with the fall and loss of Baji, one of its linchpins, it became more and more fragile as time passed, somewhat still managing to have their influence over the city.

Thanks to some scum of members doing dirty work to archive it.

One thing was known for sure by the members, if Mikey was in command with Draken alongside him everything would have gone just fine.

Not knowing that the commander lost both of his parents at the age of three, being raised by his older brother Shinichiro and grandfather Mansaku who taught him the ways of karate, from which he made a name for himself in the streets.

The Sano siblings were just like a group of bowling pins, put in line one after the other connected by bad luck.

Another individual who had a lack of luck was Kurokawa Izana, their non-blood-related relative, fruit of the love of a Filipino woman and man.

Unfortunately, after her companion died, she found herself looking after the young boy on her own. Until she crossed paths with Masaru Sano, father of Shinichiro and Manjiro.

They became lovers and were together for a brief period until she passed away as well.

But he wasn't so heartless to not take the young boy with him, taking him under his wing as he went to live with his new flame, Karen.

And at that moment, they also had an infant daughter, Emma. Who he left behind as he also made his departure to the underworld.

Not even after she just turned three, her father's last paramour abandoned her in front of the Sano household, as she took her leave, and never returned back.

While she was introduced to her half brothers, her previous one wasn't doing very well.

Unlike her he was dropped at an orphanage, left to himself.

But despite the hardships, there was still hope for Izana as Shinichiro sought after him tirelessly.

After his grandfather had a talk with him, and nominated the young boy that lived together with Emma and Karen before they all parted ways. He was determined to locate him, to hopefully make him become a new member of the family.

And he does find him, instaurating an amazing sibling bond between him and the soon to be Sano.

Making him believe in that fairy tail, where everyone gets their happy endings but the villain.

Over time Shinichiro begins to talk about Emma and Manjiro too, giving him updates and telling him their adventures hoping to fuel the curiosity and excitement of the younger boy, but no success.

One thing he did fuel though, the young albino haired boy's jealousy in the regards of Mikey.

Believing the boy was trying to separate him from Shinichiro, he refused to let another loved one get snatched away from him, as he viewed the older sano sibling as a father-like figure in his life.

Taking a firm stance against the notion of letting the boy take the only thing remaining that could fill the void that the loss of his parents had created in his life.

But either way he had to be taken away from this world to early repent for his sins.

And just like this the bowling ball had hit one of the side pins that would later take two more down with it.

Starting the countdown for the lives of the other two Sano and our one and only Kurokawa.

Second to fall was Emma, Izana following right behind her leaving Mikey now all alone.

Waiting for the ball to eventually hit him.

So yeah he became a somewhat untraceable suicidal crime boss, in flip flops.

Ok he sounds too silly if we describe him that way, but he is Mikey so being silly is —Correction was his nature.

And what better way was there for the search to continue other than staging a reunion with the past division captains of Toman?

Reviving the organization, as now it slides sides and cooperates with the law to extend the reach of effectiveness in the search.

Working together while risking our lives for a better cause, which was stopping Manjiro and making him exit from that corrupted mentality so his name won't be stained by different numerous crimes.

That was our main goal, while the police wanted Bonten to fall apart, trying to capture most of its executives and associates, slamming them into jail and leaving them to rot there.

Lunch break; And those four motherfuckers were still in the office discussing business, well actually, only two of them were seriously discussing business while the other pair had discarded their jackets, loosened up their ties and opened the first buttons of their white shirts as they were busy hugging and laughing, just being the regular obnoxious drunk duo.

Remembering embarrassing past experiences, until the alcohol would no longer make them feel it's stung on their throat.

"Do you remember that intoxicated exotic dancer who wanted to provide you with a lap dance, but accidentally slapped you with her tits in your face?" The older Haitani inquired and then added, "I have never laughed so much in my entire life, I tell you!"

This was one of the many amusing escapades that they lived through together whilst being part of the Tenjiku and later the Kantou Manji Gang.

Chuckling his pal added.

"She was worse than a bitch in heat, the impact that came with it, and the weed effect nearly sent me to the depths of Hades, no cap!" This statement earning a snort from Kisaki,

while Rindou had become accustomed to dealing with drunk imbeciles.

So this was very common for him to not say usual in his daily life.

"If you ever require a prostitute's services for your trip into the so-called land of freedom, you know who to contact. I have a few fresh faces this week, and who knows maybe they can help you enjoy it to the fullest!" Ran's face broke into a smug and happy grin, as he offered his ex comrade the opportunity to indulge in some pleasure even out of the state.

However, the younger Haitani was clearly unamused by this show of generosity. He may not have shown it explicitly, but his mind was filled to the brim with irritation.

"Hold your horses, until we don't receive the order or further instructions we can't start any new negotiations with third parties, so refrain your fantasies together for another time." Collecting his papers and putting them into a folder.

Kisaki got up after he finished his paperwork, as his presence wasn't needed anymore.

"If you excuse me gentleman. I have some other important matters to attend to, so now I'll take my leave."

Matters my ass, he just wanted to leave as soon as the meeting was over, since the next few days will be brimming with work-related responsibilities and meetings; So he needed as much rest as he could get.

He might have the brain of a genius, but a brain doesn't work if it's not taken care of.

Rindou was about to tell him to get his dog with him, but it was already too late as the other business man was already out of the door.

Leaving him with not one, but two annoying drunken pricks.

He hated his job, at first it was fun until there wasn't any thrill in his life as everything was now routine.

He very well knew that once you get in Bonten, you can't leave.

Not alive at least.

Exactly, in exchange of what they always wanted as teens, they had to give their freedom and loyalty in return. But they didn't have any other choice.

Or let's say he didn't have any voice in chapter...

Two best friends, on the balcony; Violating the now deep black color of the sky with white and gray free spirited hazes.

The smoke danced along that void which gave the buildings a defined shape, floating lazily into the darkness of it, disappearing into the night sky just as soon, almost seeming like it was absorbed by it.

While I absorbed Lara's blabbering about Shion, as nicotine gave me the patience I needed for it.

"And when our eyes locked into a curious dance, I wondered; Who could he be? What has he seen in his life to make him pick my eye?" She concluded by taking another hit from the cigarette.

"It's a waste of effort, Lara. Just by viewing him one can tell he is more of a rake than a real-life criminal or thug, whatever he claimed himself to be,"

"You should really raise your standards, for your own good." I sighed out, flicking the back of my cigarette as the ash dropped down the railing into the street.

"Is that so? Funny coming from a woman who sent nudes to her lover before they even hit their third month, I doubt you're in a position to speak about such matters of morality." She retorted, rolling her eyes dismissively.

"Really? You're picking something that happened almost a decade ago so you could counter what I have just stated?" I replied, as the tone of my voice was disappointed while my face displayed an irritated grimace.

"Il lupo cambia il pelo ma non il vizio." She shrugged, looking to the side.

"Can you please listen to me, and stop behaving as if you own the world while I'm trying to advise you?" I was now furious, dropping my cigarette on the balcony tiles, firmly stomping on it and kicking the butt out of the railing.

"This individual is not good for you, I am trying to help you not get another heartbreak, like the one you had in junior year; With a guy who by the way was seven years older than you!" Rubbing my temples while I spoke in an attempt to soothe the headache that I was starting to feel, as I added.

"You want me to remember my mistakes from the past? Fine by me, have it your way, but don't think I won't reciprocate since you're no saint either." I concluded as now I was fully annoyed, while my eyes betrayed the fury I felt towards her shitty remarks.

"You always get your way! It's honestly so annoying how you establish your argument as definitive truth, and nothing can prove them wrong in any circumstance," Lara stated, unable to suppress emotions as her voice rose to match mine, expressing the pent up frustration and the feeling inferior to me even if she was older.

"I know I'm stupid and keep making the same mistake over and over again," She declared, as if she had nothing to lose by making me see her vulnerable side.

"But it's too late as now I'm addicted to that type of person, despite the fact that they will fuck me up." As she continued to vent her feelings to me, her voice became lower and lower.

There always was a sense of beauty she saw in her circumstances, no matter how bad they were. Despite the challenges, she would always point out a hint of good and cling onto it.

Nonchalant of the consequences.

"Let's join Lia on the sofa, and enjoy the match of football. We shall discuss this another time." I exhaled deeply, trying to turn her attention to some light entertainment.

"But I haven't finished my cigarette!" Protesting, as she held the carcinogen stick between the middle and index finger of her right hand.

In no time, the cigarette was swiftly thrown over the railing, by me as it flew down to the street where it crashed on the ground; Putting an arm across Lara's shoulders, guiding her inside.

Welcomed by the triumph screams of Lia, spinning around in the air her team's scarf, as apparently gli Azzurri had scored against the Brave Blossoms.

Her joy was palpable even to the neighbor next door, as he banged his fist against the wall while cursing at us to keep it down. Reminding us that it was late, and there were other people residing on the second floor.

We did nothing but laugh to our heart content at it.

"We'll surely try, cariño~!" I shouted back in a playful tone, with a hint of flirtatiousness in my voice.

I had a soft spot for our neighbor, Mr. Garcia; The handsome Spanish teacher, who recently moved into the condo weeks prior. With his suave personality and dazzling charisma, how could one not?

His anger issues were on another level though, maybe those were the reason his wife divorced him.

But one thing I know for sure, I would have chosen Spanish instead of French in middle school if he was the teacher.

As only the idea made me caliente between my legs.

Only to be dragged back to reality by Lia as she sat us down on the couch, to then accommodate herself between me and Lara, keeping us at a short leash, so to speak.

"It would be appreciated if you kept your lustful scenarios to yourself, at least until this match finishes." Lia expressed with a tired sigh.

"Oh come on what's wrong with letting your fantasy run a little wild? Plus who wouldn't fall for a dilf like him-" I answered as Lara playfully hit my shoulder chuckling, before Lia cut us off putting both of her index finger on our lips.

"Shh shut it for now..." She whispered strictly, eyes glued onto the screen of the TV.

The camera now shifted its focus to Tommaso Allan, who had the ball passed onto him by one of his teammates. In a swift and decisive move, he rushed forward, and successfully managed to overcome an opponent who had initially blocked his path. He was in the process of searching for an ally to pass the ball to, when Kanji Shimokawa suddenly tackled him to the ground, catching him by surprise and seemingly causing him to lose the ball.

"Now that's a hunk!" Lia remarked as she viewed the slow-motion replay of the action on the screen.

Only for me and Lara to shut down her affirmation.

As the game progressed, the Italian team was in advantage, netting two more touchdowns, prompting Kanji to utter a series of curses in the meantime, his anger being quite apparent.

Takeomi glanced sideways at his companion, cigarette between his lips, taking a long drag before saying. "You worry too much buddy,"

"They are playing on their home ground, with that huge advantage I'm sure they are just being a little playful with the opposing team just to put on a show and then get serious reversing the situation."

To which the fake blonde answered with a serious demeanor, "One thing I know for sure, and that is their victory over the Azzurri. I'm not taking another loss from our national team." He stated.

To which the other male answered.

"Then try not to get any white hair from the stress, it would ruin that dye job." Taking a long drag from his cigarette as he talked to his colleague.

While their two younger superiors played pool in the background, the pink-haired freak wasn't having any bullshit from his smoke addict of an older brother.

"Can you shut that trap of yours and stop smoking like you're mourning someone!? It's so fucking annoying to smell the smoke of your cheap cigarettes!" Talking, more like spitting words as if he was speaking with the lowest scum on earth.

"Suck it up Haruchiyo, your weed is no better." He firmly stated puffing out the smoke.

"It's Sanzu to you Akashi, stop acting like we're close and playing family, we both know you suck at it." Snarling while he glared at the older male.

"Fair enough, I just thought you missed my figure as an older brother." He laughed to himself.

While his little brother scoffed at his antics, dispising him from the very bottom of his heart.

Applying some chalk on the cue stick, as he got ready to make his strike.

"You talk as if you've died, which unfortunately you didn't. Anyhow, who would miss such a parasite as you?" With a swift and precise motion hitting the little white ball, as it went rolling full speed colliding with the brown one, "The world would just lighten from such burden if you did." He concluded as the ball fell into the hole.

"Oh- come on now, you talk as if I've ruined your life, or in this case as if I was the only one that did-" Being cut off by Mochi esulting as the Brave Blossoms finally scored a point after a back and forth between the two teams.

"Take that, you pasta eating bitches!" He was aware that the Azzurri were still ahead of a point but had so much faith in his team to win, as his nationalism kicked in.

When the two charismatic figures of Bonten entered the room.

Or more like one entered while having the arm of the other on his shoulders, as he helped him walk inside.

"Ahoy there, mates! Terribly sorry to keep you all waiting, I was busy chugging down copious amounts of liquor." Stumbling forward for a couple of steps as he gripped tightly the fabric of his brother's suit, the older Haitani made his entrance.

"However, I've recovered somewhat and I'm ready to enjoy some time together with you beautiful, beautiful people!" The man drunkenly declared, while his sibling dumped him on one of the minibar stools.

"Stay put, alright? Don't do anything dumb." Putting his brother in a position where he wouldn't fall off the stool from squirming around.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Rindou. I can take care of myself, even when I'm tipsy. Seriously, don't you trust me?" He proudly stated.

"There's nothing to be so proud of, Ran." Only to be cut off by the other, "I mean, I know how to handle my booze!" As the two got into a back and forth over the situation, which only got more chaotic and interrupted Kokonoi's efforts to concentrate and get some work done.

The ladder was immediately caught by their words, as he grew annoyed by all the interruptions to his work.

"Can you stop being so loud!? I'm trying to focus and you're making it almost impossible!" He snapped, his patience quickly running out with the ruckus.

The younger Haitani was already fed up after all the bullshit he had to deal with today.

As the situation wasn't helping, and his patience was quickly running out. He was ready to explode, and this slight form of provocation pushed him over the edge.

"Screw off, dick cheese! This isn't a place for work. Stop thinking about more ways to make money when we don't need it right now, you capitalist prick!" He exclaimed not able to control his temper anymore, as now he just wanted to exit the room not wanting to completely lose it.

And he did just that leaving his drunk sibling over there with the other lad, quickly making his way to the elevator.

Ran, being the drunken flirt he is, decided to break the silence between them with a bold claim, "Don't listen to him, gorgeous. You can consider this room your workplace, and if anyone else says otherwise, let me take care of it. I'm quite the big deal around here." Clearly still drunk from the alcohol, he mistakenly thought the white haired man was a woman.

Who seemingly caught his attention so he wanted to shoot his shot and earn some chuckles from, but he only received a disgusted glare from his comrade.

"For the love of all that is holy, please just trip over a knife and leave me alone." He face palmed in utter exasperation, as just the idea of having to deal with Ran's drunken antics was just too much for him to bear. He returned to typing on his laptop, trying his best to avoid Ran and hoping he wouldn't interrupt him again.

He was wrong, Ran was right behind him, his arms draped over his shoulders as he leaned over to whisper in the other man's ear, "Oh come on, don't you like attention? Especially from such a charming man like myself." Continuing to hit on the supposed woman he believed his comrade was.

"I like respect and boundaries, don't you know personal space is a thing? Stop being a creep and keep your goddamn hands to yourself, geez." Wanting the other to get the point and leave him alone, he wasn't going to sugarcoat his words to not sound offensive.

Still the rather tipsy individual took it personally.

"Me a creep? Please, I'm a gentleman." He started, quickly retracting his hands from his companion's back.

"Is there any difference? A gentleman is just a more patient and pleasing wolf in sheep's clothing" He retorted with a roll of his eyes, not impressed by the behavior of his companion.

“Don't be a killjoy, sweet cheeks! Why waste those lovely locks if you aren't gonna put them to good use? Maybe they'll look even better with my fingers through them and you on your knees." He said with a cocky demeanor, leaning on the counter holding his head and looking dreamily at his colleague back, as if imagining the various things he wanted to do with 'her'.

Ran was high on his own fantasies of romance and sex, while Rindou was high on their own professional success.

Making his way to their boss' office to report the process of their successful deal with Kisaki, hoping that their superior, Mikey, would be pleased with that accomplishment and tell him and Kokonoi to begin making the necessary investments into their new deals.

Rindou, after stepping out of the elevator to the top floor, was met with the warm glow of the sunset as the sun was slowly setting in the horizon. Within thirty minutes, night would fully sweep over Tokyo, giving the window one last glimpse before heading to the boss' office.

Firmly stepping through the double doors, closing them behind him. He glanced up at his boss, making eye contact with the man piercing black irises.

Despite his lanky and short stature. He was the epitome of 'don't judge the book by its cover.'

As his presence was intimidating, making the executive quick mental note to keep the report short; The faster, the better.

"How did it go Haitani? Hopefully you gave a good image of Bonten." He asked even though it seemed more a threat, making the thirty year old man stand straight.

Breathing out, relaxing as he recollected his thoughts, he started to give his report about today's meeting he and his brother had with the heads of the Tenjiku criminal organization, Kisaki and his left hand man Hanma.

It was hard for Mikey to remain calm and focused while listening to Rindou talk about them, considering the men were the ones who caused the death of two of his siblings. Still, managing to stay silent and not show the frustration he felt.

With a quick hand gesture shutting the other man up, before he inquired, "Was Hanma much of a hassle during it?"

Rindou quickly shook his head, "He was knocked out shortly after Ran got him to try some of the new booze we ordered from China," he explained before adding "Just as you had told to operate."

Another hand gesture telling him to continue, as he complied with his boss' order.

“He wanted to have some other drinks so we gave him a vip pass to one fo our most known nightclubs, for later we prepared a royal suite at one of our five star hotels.”

Instead of going through all this trouble he could have shot that adrenaline freak, leaving him to die alone like a bastard in the corner of a cold and lost alley, people wouldn't even notice about his disappearance. Nobody would care honestly, not even the police.

But his boss' orders weren't optional, and Rindou would much rather follow them and tolerate the other annoying asshole for that short period of time, than suffer the wrath of Mikey's so-called 'loyal mad dog.'

As being skinned alive by him doesn't sound so appealing to no one. Whatever he has to do he will do it, and get the job done.

"He will depart to San Francisco tomorrow at 7 am sharp. At least this is what I know from the information Kisaki gave me." He concluded, fixing his tie as he awaited further instruction or questions from his superior.

After a long period of them just staring at each other as silence surrounded them, the boss moved his arm over the landline, his fingers pressing a button before speaking.

"Kokonoi, come to my office and bring Ran along with you." The boss says to the other person on the line, in a firm and clear tone.

And not even five minutes after three people enter the office out of the two requested.

"I was told there was going to be some top-notch food here," The still intoxicated individual exclaimed, ready to engage in whatever entertainment that was happening currently. However, despite this, the pink haired individual accompanying this person mentally scoffed and was annoyed by his drunken behavior.

Nevertheless, the person's sotic expression remained in front of the king that he followed, regardless of the irritation caused by the inebriated idiot.

With Kokonoi right behind them, closing the doors after entering with his laptop in one hand a dossier on top of it.

"You told me you were taking me to your hot female friends, but I see no beautiful babes, no sexy girls, just a bunch of ugly dudes in an office." Rather disappointed by the lie Kokonoi told him to get his ass moving as soon Mikey required their presence there, Sanzu wasted no time in dropping Ran on the leather couch like he was a sack of potatoes.

"My hot bitches-" was as far as the drunk individual's complaining got, because he was abruptly interrupted by Sanzu placing his hand over his mouth, trying to shut him up, only to have it licked away in the process. The other man was disgusted by the behavior of the drunk individual, and his annoyance was starting to show.

"What the hell you freak!" he exclaimed, clearly surprised and not expecting this to happen. He quickly pulled his arm back, Kokonoi offering him a handkerchief as he proceeded to walk towards Mikey.

Placing his laptop and the folder on the desk of this last one, as he began to state the analysis he made about how much would their earnings rise out of assimilating Tenjiku into Bonten, with the ultimate goal of absorbing them completely after removing the top two heads.

"What about Madarame Shion?" Sanzu questioned about the third head, Kokonoi confidently responded by saying.

"He is no threat. He's easy to bribe with some money and power, maybe be generous and add a couple of women for him too..." He paused looking at Rindou before continuing.

"But if his appetite isn't satisfied by that, two bullets can shut his mouth for good, and make him grateful that we ended his life quickly." Showing no hesitation or remorse as he made his statement, clearly not bothered by the slightest to have a guilty conscience.

As long as it serves the greater interests and goals of the criminal organization he loyally serves, fill his pockets and mouth, he will do that and much worse.

"What do you think, boss?" Sanzu looked to Mikey for an answer, waiting to make sure they were all on the same page.

Ready to follow whatever came out of his mouth.

As his boss was still contemplating the situation, thinking about the best move to make. Finally deciding to go along with the plan suggested by Koko, believing that there shouldn't be any trouble with the third head of Tenjiku as long as they had a fool-proof plan to bring the man over to their side, and if not get rid of him.

Pulling out of the folder the documents before giving it one last adjustment, as he and Rindou put their signature on them, handing them to Sanzu and Mikey so they could do the same, as they both read what the contract was about before signing too.

Officially declaring their agreement, now they just had to wait for the outcome, and ensure that everything proceeded according to plan.

"Now we have time to give this to Kisaki, while I need you to give this to Hanma as he will go overseas tomorrow morning." Kokonoi directed Rindou, sticking out with his hand a piece of paper from the folder for him to take.

In the middle of the nightclub, surrounded by the loud music and boisterous atmosphere, is a man. Average height and a lean type of build, with a face that is so charming even now when it displays nothing more than indifference.

He was familiar if not used to having ladies of the night by his side as they swayed along the music, one in particular, his favorite.

The young woman was basically a walking feast for the eyes, her figure a perfect example of what the male gaze perceives as the ultimate beauty.

As she back faced him, his hands under hers as she guided him to feel every curve he already knew of her body, as they moved along the rithm of the music.

Still failing miserably when it came to Kazutora, as his mind was elsewhere, and she was nothing more than another Saturday night for him.

And while she tried to win his attention for hours, only to see her efforts fail, something much simpler had managed to get the job done. And that was a buzz from his phone, tucked away in his jeans pockets.

Quickly making his way across the nightclub towards the bar, presumably intent on finding a way to end his night on a more positive note. However, the woman was not about to give up that easily. She followed closely behind him, trying not to loose him in the sea of people.

When he reached the bar, the man paid for his drink, before giving the woman some gas money to call an Uber. This sent the signal loud and clear that he had enough partying for the evening, and the lady was forced to accept defeat.

He needed to fully focus on the task at hand he gave himself, still he wasn't no ungrateful bastard as he bid her a swift goodbye, planting a quick kiss on her cheek as a sort of consolation.

Walking out of the club leaving her behind. Reviewing the intel his most trusted subordinate had sent him.

"Roppongi huh?"

Haitani's well known turf. Still half of their subordinates liked to say they were loyal, in reality they are just a bunch of dumb assholes that with a little money and lies you could buy.

Cracking the engine to life as soon as he got on his motorcycle, a loud roar filled the mostly empty parking lot due to the late hour.

Taking a hold of the handle bar, rubbing it to gain more speed. He then performed a half circle turn to then speed off down the wet streets of Shibuya.

The streets were empty, except for the occasional low-life thugs or wannabe gangsters. He enjoyed nights like this, as it was just him, his motorcycle, and the cool wind that brushed across his now rosy cheeks. The blonde streaks in his hair blew freely, adding even more beauty to this moment.

Taking the exit onto the highway, it started to get boring.

Until he noticed a luxurious car in the distance, it seemed to be a black Mercedes-Benz.

Surely expensive to maintain, from the looks it seemed it was brand new. Although he couldn't see the owner, unfortunately as this rich bastard had black tinted car windows. But surely he seemed to be in deep thought as he moved with a slow monotone peace.

Then an idea came to his mind.

Letting the car gain a good distance, before going at maximum speed just right beside it. The roars of the motorcycle surprised the driver that much he swerved off into another lane. Luckily, the driver hit the brakes with all his might saving the car from making an accident.

Kazutora burst into laughter, not caring about the person in the car he almost killed. According to him, it was the driver's mistake to be distracted and wandering off with their thoughts while on the highway.

And since he considered himself to be a good cop, he saw it as his duty to remind him of this simple rule.

In his style and way of doing it.

The two figures that exited the car didn't catch his attention for long, as the situation had given him enough fun for today. Turning back to focus his attention on the road and on his true goal that night —visiting one of the night clubs owned by the two charismatic brothers.

Unbeknownst to him, the ones that he almost made go astray were none other than the two brothers, and the psychopath with a pink mullet of their superior.

The younger Haitani was outraged after the incident, and furiously started shouting calling the driver of the bike all sorts of names.

"That bastard!" The man yelled, his tone raging with fury.

In spite of his subordinate's outrage, Sanzu saw comedy in the situation and couldn't help but crack up.

"Calm down, bro. This is hilarious. it almost felt like we were going to die there," His coworker said with a wicked grin, as he closed and leaned into the car door.

Rindou was now fuming with outrage as the Joker wanna be continued to go at it.

"What? It's not my fault nor his that you drive like an old lady," The individual shrugged, unconcerned.

"You sick fuck! That damned bike almost caused us to crash! I might drive like a grandma, but who does he think he is acting like a maniac on the road?!" Storming back to the car, upon reaching it he opened the car door and forcefully closed it behind him.

Sanzu stayed out of it, sighing in annoyance as he left the younger Haitani some time to cool off, before they could carry on with the task given by his king.

While all this chaos happened, Ran was in the back seat, knocked out.

And not even five minutes after they were back on the road.

The speedometer showed numbers escalating rapidly, reaching higher digits after mere seconds had passed.

Street lights pass their bright ray on the car bodywork, somewhat trying to clean it from all the shady businesses that they have used it for.

Chase Atlantic blasting from the radio, as the man with the pink mullet sang along the lyrics. Only to be interrupted by the news.

"It seems that the trend of illegal car races came back, California has been full of reports. Especially in the cities of San Diego, Los Angeles and lastly but not least San Francisco."

As the news reporter continued their broadcast, Sanzu lowered the volume as he looked at Rindou before saying.

"Seems like Shion is already at work." He snickered still looking at whom he was speaking to.

While the other guy thought nothing but how idiotic people were to follow a trend, just to be known as some sort of crappy underground superstar. Not knowing how much of a hypocrite he sounded.

He and his older brother did follow the trend of being delinquents too, but they had more style and charm than those scraps.

"San Francisco huh?" He mumbled to himself.

Rindou only knew the city thanks to the books at juvie.

Remembering it's characteristic monuments such as Alcatraz, the ruthless prison known world wide, the Golden Gate Bridge; A red and white vortex that makes you enter a colorful mix of colors and cultures, where cheap and expensive coexist.

These were the words that the author of the book chose to describe the city.

Hanma tomorrow would go there to help Shion, his old gang pal, as the mission given to him by Kisaki wasn't such an easy task.

They should be there just for a few days, just to find a good location out of the public eye, and then be back in Japan without getting noticed.

The police have been on their tails in this period of time, with the help of that damned Toman.

As they reunited the gang, this time to find and bring back Mikey and his fucked up mind. With Takemichi being none other than the leader, yes that's right a weak bitch like him is the top dog.

He was good with words, Rindou admits, but words can't bring you anywhere. Violence must accompany them, at least that's his ideal.

Still he found it hilarious how they believed that with the power of friendship they could bring back his boss, who honestly just needed to be sent to a psychiatric hospital along with his loyal mad dog that was now sitting beside him looking at his phone.

But at least they had the balls to do something he would never do, and that was going against Mikey.

As if it wasn't Sanzu hunting him down for betrayal his subconscio would take his place. Guilt tripping him of leaving Ran alone, breaking the promise they had made at each other from the very start.

He couldn't handle the type of life without anyone beside him, like he had Ran for his entire life.

So running away was, and forever will be just a fantasy.

Since we were into the topic of old friendships, two other old friends were seeing each other right now after many years.

Junpeke, a once lively individual, had become much more tame over the years. His once stylish and edgy haircut was still the same, but his spark seemed to have been lost.

And now he happened to work at one of the many clubs the Haitani owned, he was just a low ranking subordinate of theirs nothing really special.

Still Kazutora found a way to use the position of his old friend in something useful to him, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered meeting him again after all these years.

Both of them not wasting much time, walking though the dark corridors headed straight for a door that was labeled 'Staff Only'.

Once through the now closed door, they entered an area that was most likely a dressing room, as Junpeke immediately got to business, pulling a waiter suit, from the nearby closet handing them to Kazutora.

As the latter changed into them pretty quickly, taking out keys and wallet from the orher pocket of his jacket along with his phone.

"Now that i have completed everything you've asked me for, it's time for you to hold up your end of the deal," Junpeke stated, a smug smile made it's way on his face as he added.

"Give me the money, and you can go and do whatever your heart pleases with Hanma." As if he wasn't in a dangerous situation at all.

"Of course, a deal is a deal after all." Kazutora seemed used to his arrogant behavior as he searched though his jacket pockets, pulling out two rolled stash of twenty five bills worth ten thoused each.

For you folks that don't want to do math, it's basically around four thousand dollars.

Not wasting anymore time the other took it and began to count them.

"What? Don't you trust me Junpeke?" The man with long hair pulled back and tied into a low ponytail asked his former friend, however the ladder didn't respond to him.

He looked around to make sure everything was left as they found it, then both took their leave walking to the door.

Not all bad things come to harm you, and Kazutora had learned one important rule during juvenile detention, and that was; Never let anyone walk behind you, especially when doing shady business.

Of course the ex-juvenile delinquent took this opportunity, knocking his childhood friend unconscious, sending his live location to one of the police officers he had under his command, and carrying the man outside the back exit and dropping him inside a dumpster.

After successfully taking Junpeke out of the picture he went back inside the building, now walking through the corridors that brimmed with sex workers that offered him lustful gazes and sweet chuckles.

He payed them no mind, as they were only doing their job.

Entering the large underground club lounge of the hotel, he was met with a scene of chaos. Music blasted in the background, ladies dressed in vibrant colours and styles moved back and forth, forming a veritable bouquet.

Just as he was taking in the sight, his eyes scanned the various tables as they came across the man he was looking for, he was surrounded by a circle of ladies, as they stuck to him like glue or looked to get closer.

Hanma Shuji, a man with many words for him, but clown was the most fitting, as his lazy smile was exactly the same of a fool.

And Kazutora couldn't wait to wipe it off his face, as it would look better when he will shove him behind the bars.

As if by fate, a tray carrying two alcoholic drinks was suddenly placed in his hands by a waitress, confusing him for a waiter, shouting at him to bring it to the table where the infamous reaper was.

And of course after knowing that how could he not spit into the drink to top it off?

Not a smart idea to do it in the middle of the dance floor, as he was grabbed by the collar from a bulkier man with an angry expression on his face.

If you were at a club and brought a drink, only to see a waiter spitting into one of the same type that you ordered, it would certainly put some doubts in your mind about your own drink.

And since alcohol can often make one's inhibition lower and impulse control harder to manage, it's now wonder that the man got so aggressive in a quick time span with Kazutora.

"Who do you think you are, spitting into drinks like that?!" In the midst of the loud music and partying, the sound of that sudden shout got the attention of those nearby.

As the partygoers turned their gaze towards the source, witnessing the man violently shaking the 'waiter'.

This situation surely ruined the cheerful mood there was in the club, as people didn't know if the accusation was true or simply a misunderstanding.

"If you don't want to give us our money's worth, then don't bother working here at all?!" Kazutora didn't even bother defending himself, he was too busy getting his face sprayed with spit from the angry shouts of the other man.

This whole situation ruined their night, as his voice surely would give the others a headache if this continued.

But one in particular.

And that was Hanma Shuji of course.

Making his way through the crowd of people as he left all the ladies behind, and when he got there he was met with the familiar face of Kazutora.

Seeing his ex comrade getting into a heated confrontation, how could he not intervene to help him? Jokes aside he quickly made his way to the two, putting his hand on the angry customer's shoulder, before saying.

"Now now, what's with all the hoopla?" he asked with a somewhat dismissive tone, taking the situation lightly.

But this seemingly innocuous gesture seemed to spark a fire in the customer, who was now fuming with anger.

"Who do you think you are, you bastard?!" he growled at Hanma, his voice practically dripping with fury. "I'm a powerful criminal, you think you can just go and mess with me like this?" he continued, his rage growing with every word.

Hanma, however, remained unfazed and replied to the customer's threats with a lazy smile, "Or what? What are you going to do? Enlighten me," he retorted, his lazy smile remaining on his face despite the customer's rage.

"Are you challenging me?! I can take you and break you like a breadstick, you lanky beanpole!" The customer shouted, angry at Hanma's continued lack of fear and respect for him.

"You don't seem to be in the right mood, mister." He said before adding "How about you go on a little timeout and drink some water, hm-?" And that was it, the final straw.

Suddenly Kazutora was free, as the man who was gripping on his collar turned to the taller male.

"I'll kill you four eyes!" He shouted, finally snapping.

"Four eyes? Make it six, because from how drunk you are." The other one had enough, and decided to resort to physical violence. As he ran at Hanma, fist ready to punch him hard on the jaw, determined to wipe that lazy smirk off his face.

Still as we all know this was a piece of cake for the reaper, as he dodged the strike with ease. Getting under people's skin was his profession rather than being a criminal, this was routine for him.

Kicking his opponent's feet, making him trip and fall on the dirty dance floor, that from the various partying of the night was all sticky, either from drink spills or obsolete substances.

As the bouncers came and took the man on the floor, as he continued to sprout profanities at the two.

Once the chaos of the situation subsided, Kazutora understood it was his cue to leave and get out of there. His plan being ruined by some drunk bastard.

Hoping to slip away unnoticed, but he was way too positive and confident in his skills not to notice Hanma's hand on his shoulder.

"Not even a 'thanks, old friend?" The familiar voice cut through the air. Even if he was facing the other way, the ex Valhalla number three could feel his ex superior lazy smile.

"Hanma, long time no see," he said, "You've changed quite a bit, and it seems like you've acquired the habit of grabbing people by their shoulders?" He said with one of his best fake smiles he could manage to hide his irritation.

"I could say the same for you," he responded humorously, "you still look as fresh as new! Mind telling me your secret?" With a light-headed tone, he joked about his friend's transformation.

"Oh, y'know. Just grew my hair out a bit," lightly tugging some rebel strands of hair framing his face, "and eleven years of prison did their work." He playfully scoffed.

"You're as sassy as ever, huh?" Hanma replied teasingly, "How about we get some drinks and catch up on the lost time?" Wrapping his slender arm around his old comrade's shoulders, who seemed to not be interested in having to chit-chat.

Ultimately, he accepted the offer, ending it with "Why not?"

Both perfectly knew who the other was, but just for tonight they'll forget it over a few glasses of Mojito.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Rereading The Fellowship of the Ring for the First Time in Fifteen Years

The previous chapter was all grouchy wizards and atmospheric walking...and this one opens with the return of Professor Tolkien medieval literature scholaring all over the page. So let's just jump in and talk "The Bridge of Khazad-Dum."

So finding the tomb of a comrade always sucks, but context is EXTREMELY required in such cases. Unfortunately, this is the moment where Professor Tolkien rears his ugly head once again. I'm a Shakespeare scholar, and moreover I was a Shakespeare scholar at a reasonably broke school in Alaska, so I designed my thesis to not require me to go look at extant original texts. When I got to my PhD, some fuckery at an administrative level meant that when my first supervisor retired, I was dumped into the lap of a film scholar, so my dissertation because EXTREMELY about film adaptations. So I don't have firsthand experience with extant historical documents and texts, but I am aware of the process. As an undergrad, I once questioned why my text said "safety" while another text said "sanity" (and was very scoffed at before the professor actually understood the question, because I phrased it poorly). The good answer though?

Extant texts from Shakespeare's day and older are PLAGUED with slipperiness that makes them difficult to read and reproduce. They come from a time before standardized spelling, and printers often weren't that careful setting type. If they come from before the printing press, you have issues with handwriting legibility and misspellings. Then there are issues with extant documents being damaged or torn or missing pages or faded by the time we get to them, especially if they've been in private hands without the experience to properly preserve them. So the difference between "safety" and "sanity" was some editor or academic's educated guess because they had a word that started with "s," ended in "y," and was probably about six letters.

Tolkien, as a scholar with an interest in medieval texts, would have understood these issues because I'd be willing to bet hard cash that his academic work required using primary sources and original extant texts. And I'm willing to bet that because we get EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN ONE OF THESE ISSUES with the Book of Mazarbul. In no particular order, here are the issues Gandalf calls out while trying to read this thing:

multiple pages are missing from the beginning

blurred words

burned words

staining (probably blood)

edged blade damage

deteriorated pages that break off

shitty handwriting

partially visible words and guesswork that goes with it

a total lack of context for any of the words you CAN make out

This book is every book scholar's worst goddamn nightmare, because you'll never recreate the whole thing, your guesses are likelier to be wrong than right, and if you don't have plot armor preserving the important stuff, you might literally end up with a description of someone's breakfast but nothing else.

I will say though, there's one thing in here that Tolkien SHOULD have been familiar with in extant texts that isn't represented here. Marginalia. Humans were humans even in the 11-1400s, and scribes and apprentices got bored while copying out books by hand. They doodled. They wrote snarkastic comments in the margins. They had to scratch things out and redo. They had cats around and sometimes little paw prints are found in old manuscripts. Like...ancient books had personality. I get where the dwarves might not have done this in their log book, especially towards the end, but I would have loved some marginalia too.

Because the first few pages of this chapter feel less like Gandalf reading the final account of the attempted Moria colony to me and more like Professor Tolkien having a moment because WHY IS THIS GODDAMN PAGE MISSING I JUST NEED THIS ONE PAGE BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, ITS FUCKING MISSING...

Academia some days, I swear.

But we get knocked out of the academic and into the adventurous pretty fast when the drums in the deep start tolling "doom, doom." And everyone loses their goddamn minds, as any reasonable person would, because we just finished hearing about the dwarves being trapped while the drums in the deep boomed.

Aragorn isn't going down without a fight though. He and Boromir get their asses on securing the door from which the immediate danger will come, with a bit of an assist from Frodo and Sting when some ballsy Uruk puts a foot through the door.

We also get badass good guy Samwise Gamgee:

When thirteen had fallen the rest fled shrieking, leaving the defenders unharmed, except for Sam who had a scratch along the scalp. A quick duck had saved him; and he had felled his orc: a sturdy thrust with his Barrow-blade. A fire was smouldering in his brown eyes that would have made Ted Sandyman step backwards, if he had seen it.

Our boy took out an ORC all on his own!!! Sam is more than capable of taking care of business and apparently he gets scary when you back him in a corner. I entirely approve, and I cannot believe we didn't get this in the movie. GIVE ME SAM SINGLE-HANDEDLY TAKING OUT AN ORC, PETER JACKSON!!!

We also get an Orc chieftain stabbing the hell out of Frodo, which was an honor given to the cave troll in the movies. This goes by pretty fast though, even for a Tolkien battle. It's kind of a one-two stab and grab before everyone makes a run for it. We do get Sam freeing Frodo by chopping the spear haft in half, but if you're reading quickly, it's easy to miss that this should ABSOLUTELY have killed Frodo. The language is pretty clear that it doesn't, and Tolkien only kind of tokenly tries a fake-out death here, since we literally just got the mithril reminder at the end of the last chapter. But I guess technically we get a fake-out death here.

It is very quickly confirmed that Frodo is alive though, with everyone being like, "Wait, you're NOT dead?" and Aragorn and Gandalf both going, "jesus christ, hobbits are tough as nail."

As we keep running from the hordes of Orcs, Uruks, and cave trolls, things start to get hot and there is firelight in places firelight SHOULD EXTREMELY NOT BE. But it does cue Gandalf about where they are, and he points everyone toward the titular Bridge of Khazad-Dum, and the exit. Now it's just a matter of hauling ass and getting out.

Unfortunately, when Legolas turns around to shoot some bitches and buy time, this happens:

Something was coming up behind them. What it was could not be seen: it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which a dark form, of man-shape, maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in and to go before it. It came to the edge of the fire and the light faded as if a cloud had bent over it. Then with a rush it leaped across the fissure. The flames roared up to greet it, and wreathed about it; and a black smoked swirled in the air. It's streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. In its right hand was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left it held a whip of many thongs. "Ai! ai [sic]!" wailed Legolas. "A Balrog!"

And I just need to take a second here, because like I've said, I was more familiar with the movies than the book. And I just need Tolkien to EXPLAIN HIS DAMN SELF with this description. It's maybe man-shaped, but it has a mane? Like that does give adapters a lot of room to get creative, but WHERE THE HELL DID THEY GET HORNED SHEEP LAVA THING from??? Because that ain't in the text. I do love the drama of this description though. Like, the Balrog knows it's freaking magnificent and is going to play to all the drama that being wreathed in fire and smoke gives it. Which...ngl, I love for it. This thing is damn cool.

And I appreciate that we have FINALLY met a foe that makes Gandalf just kind of stop and go "...fuck me." Because he was starting to feel a bit OP and bored, and now he's taking it seriously, which means I as a reader should be FUCKING TERRIFIED right now, and I appreciate that.

From there, this goes down basically as the movie does, with the sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight deviation that Aragorn and Boromir get BACK on the bridge to have Gandalf's back, so they're like, within arm's reach of him as the Balrog falls and drags Gandalf down with it. But even the dialogue was lifted almost exactly from the page, so I don't feel like I need to go over this bit in much detail. It's badass, it's tragic, and it happens FAST.

And then, of course, everyone else has to haul ass out of there because the Balrog just took out your OP wizard with a flick of its wrist.

So they run, and they run a LOT for a LONG time. They run until they're out of bow-shot of the walls. And as readers, we are left with this final image:

They looked back. Dark yawned the archway of the Gates under the mountain-shadow. Faint and far beneath the earth rolled the slow drum-beats: doom. A thin black smoke trailed out. Nothing else was to be seen; the dale all around was empty. Doom. Grief at last wholly overcame them, and they wept long: some stand and silent, some cast upon the ground. Doom, doom. The drum-beats faded.

So my little headcanon here? Those drumbeats stop being harbingers of doom in that final paragraph and transform to metaphorical heartbeats for Gandalf. We know--because Pippin established it--that falls in Moria can be LONG. They take a while. The Fellowship got out of immediate danger range, and Gandalf could still have been falling. But all they have to go on is those faint, distant, slow drum-beats. The heartbeat/drumbeat comparison is so easy it's not a reach, and when they finally fade and stop, the sense is that there is nothing else for the army of evil to attack. That is--as far as anyone knows or can reasonably assume--the end of Gandalf. It's the literary equivalent of a jump cut and sudden stop of the drumroll in film execution scenes. It cues everyone that something has ended.

Well, this chapter was ABSOLUTELY not more atmospheric walking, and even though it cost us our wizard, I appreciated the tension, the fear, and the pacing in the chapter at large. The mix of breakneck action and still or slow moments to let everyone react or comment was really well done, and finally having something that actually managed to shake Legolas and Gandalf was genuinely scary.

We're going to leave it there for now, and next time we'll pick up with the aftermath of almost getting eaten by a Balrog and losing the mentor wizard of the party. We've only got four more chapters to go, so let's see what the pacing and party dynamics do as we head for Lothlorien sans wizard.

[foxglovevibes]

Musical pieces I associate with the different MC/character ships of Hogwarts Legacy Pt. I

Ominis Gaunt

- "Epiphany" by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross for Soul

(To me, this particular piece just evokes so much the tenderness/kindness that Ominis prefers to keep hidden out of fear of being taken advantage of and really encapuslates just how it feels when he begins to open up to the MC and show his true self to them. Not to mention the hope his relationship with them would give him as it continues to grow and evolve, the desire it gives him to become kinder to, and even forgive, himself for the things that had happened to him in his youth-)

Natsai Onai

- "September" by Sparky Deathcap

(Immediately, this instrumental just evokes the adventurous/wondorous spirit that Natty has, as well as how profoundly her relationship with the MC affects them and the way they see the world. And how they in turn leave a deep and lasting impact on her as well. But, after Natty takes the crucio meant for them, they find that they have a chance to truly get to know one another better without all of the action around them being their primary focus. Only to find themselves inexplicably wrapped around the other's finger and finding everything about the other as captivating as the dangers they had faced together.)

Amit Thakkar

- "Lucy Meets Mr. Tumnus" by Harry Gregson-Williams for The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe

(This piece never ceases to make me think of MC spending nights stargazing with Amit, seeking out astronomy tables together or going over old tomes on the observatory deck with hot cups of cocoa to warm their hands (courtesy of Deek-). Sometimes keeping to their studies, other times getting to know one another better. Once even trying and failing not to fall into a laughing fit when they stay out for so long that their robes had gotten frozen to the observation deck's railings. Amit in particular coming to realise that he's spending less time looking for the constellations in the sky, and spending more time looking for them in MC's eyes-)

Sebastian Sallow

- "The Ludlows" by James Horner for Legends of the Fall

(God, this piece. This piece really just captures the bittersweet tenderness of MC's relationship with Sebastian. How bright, how hopeful their very beginning together had been and how they grew to draw strength from and depend on one another in their times of need. How deeply they cared for one another before Sebastian's worries, his fears nearly took him to a place MC couldn't follow. With venomous words said and dangerous actions taken. But it also captures the relief of managing to come back together after everything is said and done. How MC could still see him as the boy they first came to know in the withdrawn and angry stranger he had become.)

Poppy Sweeting

- "Emma Suite" by Isobel Waller-Bridge and David Schweitzer for Emma

(This suite has a lot of unexpected qualities and hidden treats within it, something that perfectly fits Poppy and how she first approaches MC. And it definitely captures just how intrigued the MC is by Poppy as well and how drawn they are to/protective they are of her. Both in her endeavours to do right by the magical creatures around them and on a personal level. And is also quite fitting in how Poppy is initially singularly focused in doing her best to make amends for her past and family, but steadily comes to recognise just how important it is for her to have MC in her life and reaches out to show her own trust in them as well.)

Garreth Weasley

- "Obituary" by Alexandre Desplat for The French Dispatch

(The quirky and endearing nature of this piece is absolutely spot on for what the MC's relationship with Garreth would be like. Absolutely full of moments that make them want to rip their hair out, unbelievable fondness and enduring sweetness that just mellows everything out. Garreth is far from perfect and neither is MC but thats what makes it all the better when they come together to work on how to making this thing between them last.)

[the-redhead-in-a-dress]

Throwing some ideas out there before I forget to be picked back up when I'm less insanely busy with work... The merging of two head canons about some of the crew freakishly de-aging into toddlers. I am now totally obsessed with the idea of Una's boys (Chris + Spock) and Chris' girls (Una + La'an) (thanks @emonydeborah)

_____

La'an is turned into a three year old in a freak accident and Una and Chris become her primary caretakers.

Then....It's been months and Spock, Pelia and the science division are working tirelessly to try and fix the situation and turn La'an big again. In which time Una and Chris are growing closer whilst learning to parent a toddler who happens to be their co-worker. Lots of very cute and adorable moments occur between Una, Chris and La'an. Chris is very protective of his girls.

Spock comms that he might have a lead, Chris gets excited and goes down to see what Spock is up to. Una is on the bridge, busy, and can't get there until Chris comms her saying "Uh we might have a problem". Una rushes to them to find a lot of blue smoke and when it clears Chris is standing there with a baby Vulcan in his arms...

"Not again!"

Chris just shrugs his shoulders and gives her a look to say "Well we already have one kid, what's one more"

Una just rolls her eyes. "Come on boys, let's go home."

Adjusting to ~three year old La'an was tough, but to have a 1 year old Spock is certainly a new experience, full of a lot of bodily fluids neither of them were quite prepared for.

La'an is not happy when she gets home from being babysat by Uhura to find a baby in Chris' quarters. She's very grumpy that Una and Chris' attention is on Spock and she definitely tries to pinch him when they're not looking.

Chris gives her lots of cuddles and extra stories that night to try and compensate for the unexpected arrival of Baby!Spock.

Later on, Uhura replicates a book her parents read to her when she was a kid when her baby brother was born, about getting a new sibling. La'an tears out the pages and cries.

La'an still ends up extra clingy to Una and throws a tantrum every time Una tries to hold Baby!Spock.

Chris and Una are exhausted looking after Baby!Spock and Little La'an whilst also trying to take care of their crew. Una has to pull extra hours in Science with Spock now incapacitated and Chris carries baby Spock in a carrier everywhere he goes. (thanks @m0rbs for the inspiration and image in my mind).

Spock hates all clothes and takes off whatever he can...in the end Erica replicates him a little Star Fleet uniform as a last resort and it ends up being the only clothes Spock doesn't immediately scream over and try and take off.

Chris' quarters become the defecto base for both kids and Una. When the next crew dinner rolls around there are a lot of shocked faces when they enter to see how messy the living quarters are...clothes and toys are everywhere, there's stuffing coming out of cushions and crayon marks on the walls. Christine and Uhura stay behind to tidy up and clean. Chris mutters to Una as they try not to fall asleep at the kitchen counter that they have the best crew in the fleet.

Una singing Spock Illyrian lullabies to him and rocking him in her arms.

One night Spock will not stop crying...to not wake La'an, Chris takes Spock on a walk around the Enterprise. They end up seeing the Warp Core...the sound is soothing and Spock finally sleeps through the night whilst Chris slumps against a console. In the morning, Una and La'an bring Chris breakfast and Spock a bottle in the morning. Chris kisses Una's cheek in thanks, she blushes but puts this display of affection down to his sleep deprivation. La'an is finally starting to warming up to Baby!Spock and even helps Chris feed Spock his bottle.

Another night both kids are being difficult, Chris takes Spock and Una takes La'an. After several hours, La'an finally falls asleep and Una carefully untangles herself from toddler limbs and the bedcovers, she leaves the bedroom to find Chris fast asleep on the couch whilst Spock is wide awake but no longer crying, his fingers tracing Chris' face. Una smiles...her boys.

One night Chris and Una end up cramped on the edge of his bed nose-to-nose because there's no other space because La'an and Spock have spread eagled across 90% of the space. They laugh in their tiredness and say they wouldn't trade this experience for the stars. Chris comments that all they need now is a dog and Una says not to jinx it because what if a crew member turns into a Beagle next, and she really needs Pelia to find a cure for Baby!Spock and Little!Laan and not bark demands.

The rest of the crew sees how exhausted the command team are and offer to babysit Baby!Spock and Little La'an whilst Una and Chris go on a date rest...I can only see this going badly (but in an utterly hilarious way).

At some point they'll need to call Amanda and Sarek to explain what's happened to their son. Sarek will be like 'not my problem' and walk out of shot and Amanda will just coo at how cute baby!Spock is and explain how he was a very colic-y baby and totally cried for like a month straight when he was a baby before.

[gkhealth]

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[mjspenumbra]

on Trolls

This was an editorial I wrote for and published on my currently defunct (I’m working on resurrecting it) website, Shadowstar, back around… oh, probably 20O5. It’s still relevant today.

The Psychology of Trolls

Once upon a time, there existed creatures called Trolls, or so the legends and folktales say.  According to my reference works on these subjects, Trolls of Scandinavian folklore are usually huge ogres with great strength and little wit.  The most famous tales of them have them lurking under bridges to demand payment of those who would cross, killing those who would make the attempt without paying the toll.  Later, so the texts say, the stories told that they shrank to a smaller, dwarfish folk who inhabited caves.  Eventually, they apparently left our world altogether, and were never seen or heard from again.

But those reports are wrong, for Trolls do indeed exist, even today.  They are alive and well and wreaking new havoc on the Internet.

Do you wish to enter a chatroom or participate on a message board?  Beware the Trolls!  They will appear when you least expect it, and demand a different kind of payment from you.  They will assail you with insults, obscenities, and anything offensive they can think of to get you give them what they really want: attention.  They will keep up these attacks to watch you cry out in protest and pain, and the more you do so, the more they will keep it up.  That's what they really want, after all: a reaction, any reaction, for that is the coin by which they measure their success.    The more they receive, the more they will continue the behavior that is giving them what they want.  That it upsets others is of no concern to them -- or, rather, it is of primary concern for them, for upsetting people is their business.

Like the Trolls of old, they seem to have great strength, given the kinds of trouble they can cause;  but ultimately, also like the Trolls of old, they have little wit.  They all use the same tactics, and they all resort to the same ways of provoking people.  First insult members of the chatroom or board by calling them names, ridiculing their comments and questioning their intelligence.  Then start insulting the subject for which the board or chatroom was created.  If that doesn't get enough reaction, start upping the ante by bringing in completely unrelated subjects.  Tell the other participants that they (or the subject under discussion) are prejudiced racially, sexually, ethnically, religiously -- take your pick, they'll eventually hit 'em all, and then go for the jugular: doing all this while throwing in obscene language and casting other foul aspersions on anyone who happens to be within range.  This is, of course, incredibly inflammatory behavior to any marginally civilized person, and a normal sense of justice and fair play naturally demands defense and protest.

Which is exactly what the Troll is hoping for, because they don't play fair.  They don't care about the same things that brought the other participants to the site; they only want to get people riled up and see the trouble they created so they can feel big and strong and powerful because they created such a fuss.  And while they're watching the outrage and anger fly, they're sitting under the bridge, laughing while they chew on the bones of their victims.  All that public indignation has served only one purpose: it fed the Troll's hunger for power and made him happy.  It certainly did nothing for the people who got upset.

Tales tell us that warning signs were put up near bridges where Trolls were believed to be living, to keep unsuspecting folk away so that they would not be robbed or killed.  You could not cross that bridge without losing either your money or your life, so it was better to turn around and ignore that bridge.  Not especially convenient if that was one of few bridges around and you needed to get to the other side, but eventually, the Troll would either starve to death or leave, and the bridge would be safe again.  Until the next Troll moved in, and then the same warnings and behavior would apply.

Simply put, Trolls are bullies.  They are at heart small and mean people who have a need to make themselves feel big and strong, and the easiest way they can find to do that is by mistreating other people and taking pleasure in their pain.  It's not healthy, but it's also not something that will be made better by giving in to the bully.  It is far better to walk away from him, to ignore him, and even suffer a few punches rather than give him what he wants by crying and begging for mercy or even fighting with him.  If you are not a "good victim," he will look elsewhere to get what he wants.  And ultimately, if direct action needs to be taken against any bully, it has to come from the proper authorities: in the case of school bullies, the administration and faculty, or even the police, in the case of Internet bullies, the persons on the site who have the power to block or remove their inflammatory and offensive remarks.

Because if you look closely at what these Internet Trolls say, you will eventually see the truth: They may look like big nasty ogres, but theyre really just sorry little people hiding in their dark caves, coming out to make mischief before running back into hiding where they can watch the trouble they made and laugh all alone in the dark.  They're emotional terrorists.  Ignoring them isn't easy because it hurts to see them say and do things designed to make people feel upset and angry, but it's the only thing that will make them go away.  Ignoring them completely creates an environment that simply does not give them what they're looking for.  It's like soaking the woodpile with water: when the match comes along looking for something to burn, it wont catch, so it must go elsewhere to have its fun.  But everyone must turn their backs and not respond, or the Troll will have the hope that if he keeps at it and tries hard enough, he'll get a big enough reaction to start a real fire.

Be it a Troll under a bridge or a Troll on the Internet, the warning sign is the same:

DO NOT FEED THE TROLL.

[nancypullen]

Heading to California

The mister and I are driving to California tomorrow. It's not nearly as exciting as you might think, it's just a town in southern Maryland.

We're going on a fact-finding mission. We might want to live there. It's early days yet, NOTHING is happening, but we'd like to have a look around. It would offer a lot more than what we have here in Denton (restaurants, shopping, medical care, etc) and we'd still be about an hour from the Edgewater gang. Bonus, we wouldn't have to worry about Chesapeake Bay Bridge traffic all summer. Not gonna' lie, when I google the town and see that they have everything from Belk to JoAnn's to Sally Beauty, it sounds like every convenience I left behind in Mt. Juliet. Man, do I miss that ease of living. There's a Lowe's, a Home Goods, a movie theater, a couple of malls, five grocery stores, a Target, and so on. The reason that this small town offers so much is that it's rubbing shoulders with Patuxent River Naval Air Station. Unfortunately, the closest airport is Reagan National in D.C., about 65 miles away. I think BWI (Baltimore) is 75. Not ideal, but not any worse than what we're dealing with now. I've been looking at real estate online, and at the moment it's in our price range. Before I build this up in my mind as the answer to everything that is wrong here in Caroline County, we're going to have a look around. I know the grass always seems greener elsewhere, but folks, we hardly have grass here. Literally and figuratively. If nothing else tomorrow I get to stop at a Home Goods (Halloween stuff!) and a Sally beauty (hair stuff!). I miss civilization so much. Our plan is to ditch Denton first thing in the morning and head over the bridge and turn south.

We'll explore, have a little lunch (so many restaurants to choose from!), and then head back home. Feels like the Amish on Rumspringa. I'll report our findings here on the ol' blog and let you know if it was much ado about nothing or has some potential. Our choices in Maryland seem to be dense urban or the sticks. This might be a happy medium. Scratch that, I do like Easton (here on the Eastern Shore) and really like their Talbot County property taxes. There's plenty to consider, and we're willing to explore the possibilities. We've been in Maryland just over two years, and I really think there's a better life for us outside of Denton. It's sure worth a look. On that note, I'll wrap this up. I hope that you keep your hearts and minds open to change. Don't be afraid to admit that you need to make changes. This may or may not be something we'll pursue, and if we do, it won't be right away. We're just in the talking stages. We do know that we need more than this. We also know that although we worked hard to make this house very pretty, it's not a house we can live in at 80 or 85. Ideally we'll need a one story house, or at least a home with the primary suite on the first floor. We're not at that point yet, but we also don't want to have to make that move when we're really old. Is it silly to think of that at 60? I don't think so. Better than 80. Those are the thoughts rattling around in my head, so I just dumped them all out for you. Pick through the mess and keep what you like. Sending out oodles of love tonight, I hope you feel it. If you need to make any changes, I'll be your cheerleader. Do it! Follow your dreams! Get what you need! Be brave!

There's always one.

I'll let you know how our adventure unfolds. Until then, stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[radioactive-earthshine]

While I'm talking about Klarion and his incarnations I just want to gush very messily about a little known else world's story that I feel very strongly about being animated that has one of my favorite versions of him.

It's title is Zatanna and the House of Secrets and is stars Zatanna, of course, Zatara, Pocus, and Klarion written by Matthew Cody and drawn by Yoshi Yoshitani.

The following isn't any sort of meta or analysis really this is just me squawking about this book and some favorite scenes while trying to make the core point make sense to hopefully convince you to read it.

The art alone is breathtaking.

It's an absolutely fun and delightful origin story for Zatanna full of whimsy, soft moments, some peril and of course great character interactions. If you're a fan of 80s/90s media you might get a lot of vibes from some popular fantasy movies of the time visually and thematically.

In this version we also get to see Klarion's mother (unnamed in this) as the primary antagonist and I am in love with her character and her design. In this version she is the Witch Queen with Klarion as her direct heir. Naturally, Klarion wants nothing to do with it.

Even so, when Klarion first shows up he doesn't make the best impression on Zatanna but we find out quickly that he's more or less pretty unwilling in his mother's ploys.

(Also I really want to see Zatanna smacking Klarion animated).

The story is also about Zatanna's growth and coming into her powers while uncovering secrets tied to her father and mother.

They each share the braincell here.

Though the be fair Klarion is not as powerful here as he is in other versions of himself so he relies on Zatanna multiple times to save the day.

Pocus is such a delight in this, he reminds me a lot of Binx in Hocus Pocus.

These panels... You can feel the love. I wish my cat would let me hold her like that.

Klarion throughout this adventure with Zatanna really does grow to care about her...

It has soft and cute moments from two parallel people, without giving too much away Zatanna feels alienated by being kept secrets about herself, and her dead mother that Zatara was complicit in. He had his reasons, but being a 13 year old girl those reasons do not feel valid for her right now.

Klarion meanwhile was a child under a stern and strict ruler who does not radiate warmth or love and he is told what to do, and what to be, so much that he does not feel like he has control over his own life. All while maintaining that Klarion whimsy in that he just wants to have F U N.

Klarion begs Zatanna to run away with him and forget about her father who had lied to her all her life, so they both can be free and revel in that childish fantasy of being unbridled by rules like Peter Pan's Lost Boys.

Another scene I desperately want animated.

Sadly, Klarion made a misjudgment and fell back on some habits that the characters is known to do and he loses Zatanna's trust for a while.

Even though they have a sudden bridge between them Klarion still has no desire to really help his mother, and by the end of the book he's not afraid to snipe at her and defy her openly. He's made up his mind about what he wants.

Witch Queen turned both Teekl and Pocus into stuffed effigies and Klarion guards them both, angrily. If you know anything about Klarion there is one thing you do not do... fuck with his cat.

Eventually, Zatanna comes to learn some more truths and fully embraces her magic, which gives her an edge over Witch Queen.

The hopeful look Klarion gives his mother kills me. Naturally, Witch Queen doesn't really answer her. She's hot but there's no warmth in her heart.

And so Zatanna saves the day, Witch Queen is defeated, the house is put back in its natural state and her father, Pocus and Teekl are all restored.

The only thing that wasn't quite fully restored was her budding friendship with Klarion.

It doesn't end entirely on bad terms between them, but it is a note of bittersweet.

I really love this story, it captures fun whimsy while showing a realistic story about a 13 year old extraordinary girl dealing with unnatural problems, and normal mundane problems as well.

Klarion here is very divergent from almost all of his incarnations but he is still recognizable as himself being that fun and free person unbridled by rules. Also his design here is delightful as he has more beast-like traits with fangs and pointed ears. I wonder sometimes if this Klarion will ever get antlers.

10/10 recommend and I really, really feel strongly that this story should be adapted into animation.

[ahedderick]

Neighbors

   When I first met ‘R’ I was about ten and he was fourteen - and chasing my frantic, frightened four-yr-old brother on his dirt bike. My friend and I picked up walnuts (not an insubstantial weapon) and chucked them at him to make him leave my brother alone. That was the opening salvo in a long-running confrontational relationship.

   Water long under the bridge, now. He is in his late 50s and the primary care-giver for his elderly mom (she’s a sweetie.) We both still live in this little valley. When I took some of the surplus of peonies and iris up to her last week, he offered me some of the chicks he’d just hatched.

   When I went back to get the chicks a few days later, he brought the little horde of multicolored fluffballs out for me to chose. I HOPE I didn’t get four roosters! Then we just - stood in the yard and talked for half an hour. He hadn’t heard any of the details of my father’s passing. I hadn’t heard anything about the untimely loss of his sister-in-law (from Covid) and the fact that he himself had a heart attack last September. He nearly died of it because he didn’t have enough breath to call out to his partner, who was asleep upstairs. Then, once he was rushed to the er and then to the cardiac unit, he found that his nurse was another nearby neighbor. She told him, “Oh, I’m married to AG, I live just down the road from you. Sorry, but I’m going to have to Shave You now.” His rendition of this story was hilarious in the extreme.

   The chicks are doing well. They had some supervised outside time after the rain let up today. They were pissed to be brought back inside. There are so many leafs! Also, ants are tasty.

   I think we need a word other than ‘gossip’ to describe these sorts of conversations. It wasn’t gossip. But it was good and useful.

[canadianramen]

Purpose of this blog and an Introduction!

Hey everyone. My name is CanadianRamen, or Canadian, or just Sean if you prefer. I'm a 25 year old lifelong nerd, published author, and content creator. I needed a place to collect my random nerd thoughts and put them out there for both myself and others to enjoy. Whether that be tier lists, random rants, or just straight up posts about nothing, I needed an outlet for my mind to ramble and I settled on Tumblr as the perfect location for it. All I ask is that you (if you are indeed reading this blog) to just sit back and enjoy, and feel free to chime in whenever. The first thing I will be doing is ranking all 30 seasons of the Power Rangers. It's been on my list of stuff to talk about for a long time and I'm finally pulling the trigger. Enjoy!

Before I make the first post for the list, I want to talk about the actual criteria I used for making the list and deciding the rankings. In my opinion there's a few key factors that make a good Power Rangers season:

Team-ups. These are what remind you that all these seasons for (aside from a couple exceptions) belong to the same continuity, they're the bridge that attaches these seasons together. A good or bad team-up can genuinely make or break a season (I'm looking at you Wild Force and Super Megaforce). Plus they're just tons of fun.

2. The Red Ranger and Sixth Rangers. The Red Ranger and 6th Rangers make or break a Ranger team and can set the tone for what to expect from an entire season.

3. The Ranger team members. Kind of an extension of the previous one, The Red Ranger and Sixth Rangers just tend to be more important than the others but the team as a whole does need development and good chemistry if you want to have an enjoyable season.

4. Main Villain. A good villain is a necessary backbone for a season. The Rangers can't be running in place and knock down goon after goon with a main villain that just chills in the background saying one cheesy line after another and doesn't get involved in the plot until the last episode of a season.

5. Evil Rangers. Having an evil ranger as the primary or secondary antagonist has historically always been a good thing for the plot of Power Rangers season.

6. Ranger suits and the Opening Theme. Yes I promise this matters. If the Rangers look terrible in there suits and the opening theme sounds terrible and doesn't fit the overall motif of the season then it genuinely affects how it's remembered as it ages and time goes on. "Go Go Power Rangers" is possibly the most recognizable, iconic, and greatest television show opening of all-time and for good reason.

7. My personal enjoyment. These are after all just my opinions and you may feel very differently regarding the rankings of these seasons. And that's genuinely okay, great even! I welcome any and all good discussion regarding these posts and this blog. Just a couple side notes regarding the seasons, I am well aware of some of the legal troubles that the Rangers actors have gotten into, I am going to try to avoid that when discussing the seasons as I don't want their personal lives and how they are or how they're perceived as people to reflect on my critique and enjoyment of the show. Also no holiday specials, they aren't canon and aren't very good. Also I will try not to let the Super Sentai series that these seasons are adapting from have any sway or influence over my critiques and opinions. Most of the Power Rangers seasons only share action and stunt footage anyways aside from a few exceptions. For the purposes of my list, the Super Sentai series might as well not exist.

With all that out of the way, I sincerely hope you enjoy my blog. Take care and I look forward to reading your comments!