#and like zero point one seconds in storm of the century

[rahquaza]

— iasip + rain

11x09 | 15x08 | 13x10

[delopsia]

ride the lightning | rhett abbott x reader

Word Count: 7,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, slice of life, Rhett's shoulder injury, showering together, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, food, absolutely zero plot to this one. Brief Summary: What's more fun than a post-rodeo party? Running off and having your own personal rodeo right before the storm hits.  

"You've got to quit eyeing those cowboys," Autumn's already chiding you, her words distorted by the glass resting against her bottom lip. 

Hesitant, your gaze drifts back to her. Weren't quite done scanning the room, but if you don't stop now, then you'll lose the luxury of feigning stupidity. "What do you mean?" 

"You're not slick!" She pauses, taking a sip of the liquid gold that fills her cup, the taste so bitter that her nose wrinkles. "I see you looking over there." 

"Because I'm looking for someone," you chirp, your nail tapping against the table as you begin to look around again. 

There was no way that wasn't his truck out in the parking lot. You'd know that aftermarket lightbar anywhere. But you don't see him. Not by the jukebox or the pool table. Hell, he's not even with his buddy Archie over there beside the empty water trough. 

"It's that bull rider from the rodeo, ain't it." Autumn's hit the nail on the head, and she knows it. Swirling the ice in her glass, grin growing wider with every second that passes. "You sure have a type."

It's not as if you could ever defend yourself from that accusation, but you're leaning forward, voice low as you whisper. "Yeah, like you don't have a thing for blue-eyed blondes."

"Blue-eyed blondes with money." She tips her glass at you as if to further her correction. It's not until after she's downed another greedy gulp of beer that she opens her mouth again.  "At least we have the eye thing in common."

All the men in the world, and here you two have picked men that happen to be neighbors. Arch enemies at that. Classic, century-old feud stuff. At this point, they don't hate each other for a reason; they do it for tradition.

You reckon a family hobby would be healthier, but that's not your dog, and it's certainly not your fight.

...not yet, at least. 

"At what point are we obligated to hate each other?" Dipping a finger into your drink as you speak, mindlessly swirling the ice until it forms its own little whirlpool. It's pretty to look at. Blue in color, with a little cherry and framed in a dainty glass, but whoever mixed this gave you all tequila and no juice. 

She hums, looking at something behind your head. "Whenever someone coughs up a half-mil."

Your finger stops, feeling the alcohol keep spinning past your finger. The cherry stem scrapes your skin. "Our friendship is only worth half a million to you?" 

"No," her eyes finally dart back to you, glinting in the light, "but that's how much is in Luke's checking account."

You don't even want to know how or why someone would have that much money ready to spend at a moment's notice. Or, better yet, where the hell that money came from.

Whatever is behind you, Autumn seems pretty interested in it, and you've got a good enough guess that it's the face of a man you're not interested in seeing. If you make eye contact, he'll take that as an invitation. 

Music sparks to life, blaring from a pair of cheap speakers somewhere on your left. You vaguely recognize the start of the song, but you're too busy scanning the crowd to pay attention to the lyrics. There are so many cowboy hats that you can't even cling to your usual method of finding him. Fuck, and hardly anyone has taken off their rodeo chaps. How are you supposed to—

There he is, beside the coolers. Red solo cup in hand, full of what you can only assume is more cheap beer. 

He's already looking at you, the corner of his lip lifting as you meet his gaze. 

"Speaking of," Autumn's already beginning to get up, the plastic table jolting as her hip bumps into it. "I just found who I was looking for."

"Have fun," pausing to glance at who she's so focused on. You're not sure why you expected it to be anyone other than Luke. "Try not to show up on the Abbott ranch with another hangover."

"No promises!" And just like that, she's left you. 

If history is anything to go off of, she'll charm him into driving her around in one of those fancy sports cars again. You've got a feeling that she's gonna be up in Jackson before sunrise, nestled in a fancy hotel for the weekend. 

"'s this seat taken?" 

You recognize that voice.

You've got to tilt your head to see him. Towering over you like some kind of giant, all broad shoulders and scruffy as can be, rodeo dirt still decorating his unshaven jaw. He hasn't even bothered to change out of his flannel, the ripped upper sleeve falling open to reveal the thick bicep lurking underneath. The left one sits a little awkwardly. Higher. An old injury aggravated by tonight's ride.

You want to climb him like a damn tree. 

"Maybe it is." Coy.

"Oh really?" His head cocks off to the side, hair falling into his face. "Who's it for?"

You've already got an answer brewing, but you hold it on your tongue for a moment, feigning thought. "His name is Rhett."

He hums. "Never heard of him." 

Silence. 

And then—

Rhett's laugh twists through the air like a melody, the plastic chair squeaking as he all but falls into the poor thing. One of these days, he's gonna do that, and it'll snap in two, but today doesn't seem to be that day. 

His hand motions toward the lone drink resting on the table, with its obnoxious blue color and lone cherry still swirling from when you toyed with it. "What's that?"

"Something terrible," you're already lifting the glass, holding it out for him to take. 

It's strange seeing him sipping from a dainty cocktail glass. Looks so much smaller when it's in his hand. You're not even sure if he notices the severe lack of juice, entirely unphased by the tequila that greets him. The cherry slips between his parted lips, the stem catching between them. 

"I thought you didn't like cherries?" Your head tilts to the side, curious. 

"I don't." His brow furrows, all too focused on something that you can't see. "But I like doin' this." Before you can begin to process what he's just said, his mouth opens, a tied cherry stem resting on top of his tongue. 

And here you thought you'd seen it all from him. "Is this your new party trick?" 

"Somethin' like that," the stem falls, landing somewhere that you don't see. Maybe you would know if you weren't too busy watching him lean forward, eyes sparkling with something he has yet to share. "Hey, do y' wanna get outta here?" 

"Not having fun?" Your answer is yes, but you're not sharing that yet. 

"I am, but..." then, lowering his voice, as if there's a risk of someone hearing him over the booming music, "'s more fun when it's just us."

You don't know where he's planning to go after this, but you're sold.

"I still can't believe you!" The squeal of the passenger door nearly drowns out your giggles, plastic grocery bags rustling as you climb out of the truck. 

You haven't the slightest clue which bag has the popcorn and which contains the chips, but the weight of the drinks is painfully obvious, the plastic handles rubbing uncomfortably against your arms. Curse the cashier for cramming all the bottles into one bag.

"Yeah, like you ain't never distracted me so you could pay for somethin'." Rhett's still laughing, that big cocky grin plastered across his face.

"But I never pretended I lost my keys!" Raising your voice for added effect, rounding the back of the truck. 

He's already beaten you here, opening the beaten tailgate. "Maybe ya should've." Wink.

Your eyes roll so hard that it hurts. "I'll remember that for the next time we get snacks."

Rhett's shoulder nudges yours, pushing just hard enough to make you sway. "You'll forget." 

"I'll forget." Immediate acceptance. You've sung this tune so many times that even you know that you never follow through in the end. 

The back of his truck is a damn mess; square bales of hay, two empty gas cans, the shredded remnants of a flannel, a handsaw, and you think that's a bag of chicken feed over there in the back corner. The tailgate is the only open space for you to set the bags on, and it's only now that you realize how many snacks you've actually gotten.

"We probably should have gotten dinner at Odessa's instead," you find yourself saying as you poke through one of the bags. Where in the world are those candies you got?

He reaches past you, plucking a stray screwdriver out of the mess that is his truck bed. Something tells you that he's been looking for that. "What makes ya say that?" 

"Look at all the junk we got!" Opening up one of the bags for him to see, as if he wasn't there when you both picked out and bought these things. 

But Rhett just shrugs, "Don't see nothin' wrong with it."  

Hypothetically, it shouldn't take you that long to find your candy. There are only five bags, but even as you poke through them all, you don't see that brightly colored packaging anywhere. But you know they were rung up. They're on the damn receipt! So where the hell...did you miss them somehow?

By the time you find them sitting in the front seat, nestled up against Rhett's lost bag of sunflower seeds, he's already set up the blankets. Thick, old things layered on top of each other as a makeshift cushion, protecting you from the rocky ground lurking beneath the grass. One of the downsides of choosing a pasture to lounge in, you suppose. 

He's already sitting on the corner of his makeshift blanket nest, half-lidded eyes drinking you in as you settle down next to him, your knee clumsily knocking into his thigh. You'd pay attention to him if you weren't too focused on this box of candy, pushing your thumb under the thin cardboard edge, forcing it open. 

Weight appears on your shoulder. 

Those Western romances always talk about the allure of a stoic, gunslinging cowboy, weathered by the elements and the human definition of fearless. They always fail to mention the cowboys who blink up at you like a puppy, too shy to verbally beg for a piece of your snack. 

"Do you want something?" Dipping your fingers into the box, pulling out one of the candies.

Rhett hums. Not quite a yes, but not quite a no, either. It's one of those sounds that you've heard enough times to know what it means, already lifting the first piece of candy to his lips. The scruff of his chin tickles your skin when he takes it.

Blind, your hand feels along his face, stealing away the overwhelming warmth residing there, drinking in the soft drag of his facial hair, finally at that perfect length where it no longer feels like sandpaper but has yet to begin looking like the beginnings of a beard. His tongue presses on the soft inside of his cheek, pushing against your fingers.

"Quit that!" You squeal, yanking your hand back.

"'s it really feel that weird?" His head tilts, and you don't need to look to know that he's peeking up at you.

"Yes!" And there might be more to add to that, but you're pushing one of the candies into your mouth, the sweetness effectively shutting you up. Remaining quiet even as he tilts his head to press a prickly kiss to the side of your neck, such a simple gesture that should not have your lower belly twisting with something familiar.

You've got to think about something else. Something that doesn't involve jumping on and biting him like a flea. Sucking hard on that little piece of candy, eyes scurrying for something to look at. But all you're finding is darkness and more darkness.

No lampposts or porch lights or flickering campfires, just the pale glow of the moon and the speckling of stars hanging in the sky. There are so many of them up there. Almost looks as if someone has dumped a bottle of glitter atop a roll of never-ending black velvet fabric, twinkling proudly against their backdrop of nothingness. 

The weight on your shoulder disappears. Leaves behind an absurd sense of coldness as he gets up to fetch something from the truck. Odd, how you never seem to realize how warm he is until after he's gone. 

Even the poor lighting can't hinder you from taking him in. The rodeo spurs clinging to his muddied boots. The leather chaps that hang low on his hips, with the thin little buckles in the back that squeeze the thick meat of his thighs. You know there's a reason for them to be there, but the irrational part of your brain reckons they exist solely to make you dizzy. 

"Are you ever going to take those chaps off?" You find yourself asking, after a moment, dragging your gaze away from his ass. 

Rhett freezes, his hand still wedged in the plastic bag as he looks down at his own two legs. "Eventually," he pauses, cracking open one of the cans. You haven't a doubt in your mind that it's one of those spiked lemonades he's recently discovered. "Whenever my shoulder loosens up enough t' let me mess with it."

"Need help?" Words firing off your tongue before you can process what they mean.

The black and yellow can lifts to his mouth, poorly concealing the upward turn of his lips. "I ain't never said no to you undressin' me, doll."

One little sentence, and you've forgotten about your candy entirely, letting it fall onto the blankets without any care for whether or not it spills. You've hardly got to move; settling onto your knees is more than enough. He steps forward, standing right on the edge of the blanket, that oversized buckle glimmering in the moonlight. Your fingertips brush over the edge of it, dented from the hoof of last week's bull.

"I thought the clasp broke on this?" Audibly tapping a nail against it as you make your way to the much smaller buckle hanging underneath. Not thin or frail by any means, but the contrasting sizes isn't doing it any favors. 

Your fingers hook beneath the belt, tugging on the tiny strip of leather until he gets the hint.

He grunts, boots shuffling as you drag him forward. "Nothin' a little weldin' couldn't fix." 

It's easier to see the awkward hang of his left shoulder from down here, tense and lifted higher than the right one, like someone's wound the muscle too tight. Maybe that dislocation would have healed correctly if he agreed to that hospital visit. But...here you are.

All you've got to do is pull the leather strap backward, and the prong pops out of the hole. For such tough-looking chaps, they sure come off easily. One weak tug is all it takes to have them falling down his legs, falling as quickly as you'll let them, hands gliding down the sides of his thighs and past his bony knees, eating up as much time as you can.

It's a shame that you don't need to undo the buckles around his thighs, too; you wouldn't mind the tedious process of helping him buckle them back up, either. But it's too late for that. You've already gotten the leather past one of his boots, working it over the other just as quickly. 

Even as you set those old chaps to the side, Rhett doesn't make much of an effort to move, standing idle as you fold them. Eyes locked with yours, transfixed by the simple image of you on your knees, right in front of him. You know what he's thinking. You're thinking it, too. Memories so prominent in your mind that you're already beginning to act on them.

Something booms in the distance. A deep noise that rolls through the pasture like a warning of something more to come. You think that's lightning, you see, flickering in the corner of your eye, but you're not paying attention. You can't. Not when your hands are moving on their own whims, gliding up the sides of his thighs. 

Rhett's hum echoes into his half-empty can. Seems to carry for miles. "Didn't realize we were gettin' another storm."

His breath hitches. Eyelashes fluttering. 

Your hand drifts across the tent in his jeans once more. Warm. Growing heavier with every passing second. "Think we have time?" You ask as if you don't already know the answer. As if there isn't a sudden heat flushing between your legs, the voice in your head impatiently demanding that you hurry up and pinch open his belt.

"'n here y' say I'm the one with a problem," but just like that, he's sinking to his knees. Face to face, all too quickly. 

"It's not my fault that you look like...that!"  Floundering for an escape from the situation you've created all by yourself. 

One side of his mouth quirks upward, that lopsided smile so bright that it ought to put the sun to shame. Wind rips past, nudging his hair out from behind his ear and into his face, but it does nothing to hide his pretty face. Scruffy as it may be.

It must be the breeze that nudges you forward because you don't feel yourself moving. But you're leaning forward, mouth blindly clashing with his. A little too far to the right at first, and then his hair is in the way, and...

oh.

You've missed this. 

It's hardly been a few hours since the last time, but your heart argues that it's been a lifetime and a half. One little chaste peck, and then another, and another, and another, until you cease to part ways altogether. Those big arms wind around you, his palm pressing into the small of your spine, drawing you up against him.

And you're melting into him like ice cream in the summer sun, any semblance of control vanishing alongside it. Hands roaming up the broad expanse of his chest, tickling against his neck, curling around his prickly jaw, tangling in the curls resting at his nape. Your touch is nothing special, and yet he groans into your kiss anyhow. 

Callouses catch on the soft skin of your lower back, his hands shamelessly wandering beneath your shirt. Pulling it off is tempting, but Rhett's lemonade-flavoured tongue is licking into your mouth, and the wind whispers that you don't have the time for that kind of luxury. Not if you don't want to get rained on by another one of Wabangs popup storms. 

But you do have time to reach for his flannel, dragging your finger through the buttons, audibly snapping apart at record speeds. He needs to wear pearl snap flannels more often.

"Shit," he's gasping against your lips, breaking apart for the slightest of seconds, "'s a lil cold."

The world spins around you. Back hitting the ground with all the grace and ease of a newborn deer. A bolt of lightning tears across the sky, set off by the burning hands that appear on your hips, tugging at your waistband. Your body lifts, and they're gone. You're not even sure what has become of your shoes. Don't recall feeling them come off, but your socked feet are sliding against the blanket, fighting for purchase. 

Rhett's eyes snap shut, squeezing so tight that his forehead wrinkles with the effort. 

"What hurts?" You already know that look. Already have a vague idea of what could be bugging him. 

"Shoulder," speaking through gritted teeth, not bothering to ease up, as if relaxing his jaw could bring on another wave of pain. "moved it too fast." Slower this time, he leans forward, hands falling onto either side of you, and—

"Shit." He's hissing under his breath. Sounds more like a snake than a man. There's no way that he's going to be able to put weight on that left arm, not with his shoulder visibly twitching, sent into an angry spasm. 

"This isn't gonna work," you whisper, chasing the dwindling hope that your words will reach his ears but not his already sore ego. 

Rhett hasn't even opened his eyes, but he's already shaking his head. Stubborn to the end. You know what he's going to say before it even leaves his mouth. "Hold on, if you give me a second..."

You've already got an idea. "Lay on your back." Your hands find his chest, gently pressing until he gets the message, limbs awkwardly tangling as you exchange positions. Straddling his plush thighs, settled a little bit lower than you'd intended.

It's not quite what you originally had in mind, but you've never been one to complain about riding a cowboy, already beginning to reach for his belt buckle. You don't know how you found this difficult when you first got together; all it takes is the slightest motion, and it pops open. Then comes his belt and the crooked zipper that struggles to run down the tracks.

His hips jerk, thighs smacking into your ass. "Not that I'm complainin', darlin'," there's a weakness to his voice that wasn't there a moment ago. Like he's run a marathon in the time it took you to blink. "'s there somethin' rilin' you up?"

"No." Then, smiling, "Just you."

Blue eyes dart away. Looking off to the side. "Oh."

If it were lighter outside, you think you'd catch a whisper of a blush coloring his cheeks, but your vision has been reduced to dark blobs of color. Can't even tell what color his boxers are, even when your hand dips through the front of them, blindly reaching until—

Rhett sucks in a breath. 

It's hardly been a few minutes, and yet he's already so damn heavy. Thick in your grasp, a bead of precum running down the underside of his tip. Your thumb swipes across it, dragging it back up to his plush cock head.

"You're already so wet, cowboy," you muse, lazily tracing circles around his slit. There's so much of it. Dripping like a damn faucet, so much precum that you can see the glisten of it in the darkness. 

Thunder rumbles to your left. Closer now. But you just can't help yourself. 

Your mouth finds the underside of his cock. Pressing kisses onto the vein that runs along there, working your way up from his base. Tongue lazily poking out to swirl around his head, so used to the saltiness of his precum that you hardly even notice it. One of those advantages that comes with knowing him like the back of your hand. 

Like how you know that the delicate scrape of your teeth will make him—

"Ah!" Sharp. Pitchy. The closest thing you'll get to a squeal, the kind of sound that has your thighs trying to squeeze together, suddenly warm. 

Something in your jaw pops as you take him into your mouth. Sucking lazily, like you're savoring a piece of candy, not even making an effort to stop the drool from slipping past your lips. The wetter the better. Because you're pretty sure you know the answer to the question you're about to ask.

"Condom?" Pulling off of him with a soft 'pop.' 

Rhett's head tilts toward the truck, brow furrowing, visibly thinking for a moment. Then, his lips flatten into a line. "'s in my jeans at home."

Thunder rumbles once more, urging your already racing thoughts to scramble even faster. Pulling out could be an option if not for the fact that it's never worked out for you in the past, always seeming to forget in your final moments. Riding in that bouncy passenger seat with his cum leaking out of you has never been the most comfortable thing. Cleaning up is the worst, but...

Fuck, you really can't seem to make yourself care about any of that.

Rhett's belly flexes with the effort to sit up, his right elbow bracing his weight. A familiar blob of black peeks out from beneath his open flannel, that old bucking bull tattoo. Under the thin veil of darkness, it's easy to convince yourself that it's brand new. That the poor-quality ink hasn't caused it to fade quicker than it should have. 

A kiss presses to your cheek. "What're ya thinkin'?" 

"A little mess never hurt anyone," you don't know if you're talking to him or yourself. Maybe both. 

You don't realize how close you are until your noses clash, knocking together as you squirm up to settle in his lap. His left hand finds its way to your hip, burning against your chilly skin. Doesn't do anything more than rest there, touching you for the sake of touching you. 

It's a bit crude, reaching down to pull your underwear to the side rather than pulling them off entirely. But then you're guiding him up, and his dripping tip is dragging through your folds, and you can't think about anything else. 

"You're just as bad as I am," Rhett's laugh is so much bigger than any of that distant thunder, rumbling through you in delicate waves. 

"Like this hasn't been a known fact for years," and for that statement of his alone, you're stringing this out even longer. Bringing him back up before he can begin to sink into you, selfishly rubbing him against your clit, sensitive from lack of attention.

Lightning flickers. Rhett's hips shift, slipping back down your cunt, stubbornly nudging against your entrance. Manages to lift himself enough to create a blooming pressure there, the very tip of him slipping inside. 

Fuck, you're still aching from the bit of fun you had before the rodeo. Tangled up on the couch, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to the rapidly ticking clock. Or maybe the discomfort is from the severe lack of lube. Nothing but spit, precum, and your own wetness to soothe the drag of him as you begin to sink down on him.

"Mmph," Rhett's head tilts back, pale throat exposed. "How're you so—shit. How're you still so damn tight?"

On its own, something in your lower belly loosens, almost as if it didn't realize it was doing it in the first place. Allows you the fleeting courtesy of a breath of air before his tip fully slips into you. Heat jumps up your spine, swirling around in the back of your head. 

"I should ask you the same thing," your voice comes out weaker than what you anticipated, "why are you so damn big?"

And all that's done is make him laugh again. Nose nudging your cheek as he leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his smile too big for it to be anything more than a peck. But you want more, chasing after him as he tries to lean away, helpless to do anything but fall forward. 

Gravity quickens the glide of your body, his cock sinking further into you. The curve of him rubs into a set of nerves, never has taken very long for him to find them, thick length incessantly dragging against it. 

A heavy fist strikes the land to the west, the resounding boom washing over the surprised grunt that wrangles its way out of Rhett's throat. The only reason you catch note of it is from the way it rumbles against your bottom lip, pulling the corners of your mouth up into a giddy smile. 

All too quickly, you're fully seated in his lap, fitting against him like a puzzle piece. Bodies carved to fit seamlessly against one another, lost in the blending of limbs, tangling until you can no longer tell where one of you begins and the other ends. A shiver races up your spine, pussy involuntarily spasming around his thick cock. 

"Didn't think I was gonna be the one gettin' ridden tonight," there's no reason for Rhett to be grinning up at you like this, with that healing split in his lip and those glistening eyes. Mesermized. As if he's taking in the sight of a precious painting lost for centuries. 

If you didn't know any better, you would think he was looking at the stars behind your head.

But he's only looking at you. 

It's got you lifting yourself a little too quickly; haven't even begun to adjust to his size yet. "You'd better hope it lasts longer than eight seconds."

Something sharp digs into your knee as you lift yourself, but it's impossible to pay attention to. So fucking full of him that your every racing thought has wrapped itself around the shape of his name. Oh, and it's not helped by the burning drag of his cock; a little too big for you to be riding him without lube. 

You're sinking back down when his hips lips, snapping up into you midway. Fuck, you're burning alive out here. Growing wetter from that little motion alone, that tingling heat climbing your spine and settling into your cheeks. 

"Impatient," you're huffing, lacking any bit of the conviction you'd hoped you would have.

"Them bulls buck, y'know," that smug grin of his falters as your hips swivel, readjusting yourself, "'m just playin' my part."

So annoying. 

So, so annoying.

Something about the change in an angle has him rubbing up against something he hadn't before, air catching in your throat as he presses directly into it. Shit, it's too early for your thighs to be shivering like they are, and it's all you can do to flatten your palms against his chest, forcing yourself to remain upright. 

"Keep—mmh keep doin' that." Stupid cowboys and their stupidly pretty whines. Has no right to be squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head back and forth like he's trying to shake the feel of you out of his head.

And he just keeps rubbing against those little nerves, over and over and over. Stars sparkle across your vision, so many of them that you can no longer tell which hang high in the sky and which stem from your own imagination. Whether or not that's thunder or the hammer of your own heart, you're not even remotely sure. 

A stray hand meanders up your back, his touch so feather-light and ticklish that it's got you arching away from it. Unintentionally angling him into those soft little spots even more, your pussy clenching around him so tightly that you nearly freeze in place. 

You hardly feel yourself reaching for his wrists. Only recognize the feel of them in your grasp, thick and strong from years of manual labor, yet so willing to be pinned over his head. Falling into place like they always longed to be there.

"Fuck," Rhett's teeth sink into his bottom lip, stifling a noise that you wish you could have caught, "so fuckin' pretty on top of me." 

"And here I thought you were marveling at the storm," panting into the open air like a damn dog, breathless all too quickly. As if the slow rise and fall of your hips is simply too much for you to handle. 

Rhett's biceps flex, muscle visibly rippling as the thunder crackles. "Nah," grunting, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "could watch y' ride me all fuckin' day." 

God, what is it about sex that makes him so fucking talkative?

Your hand darts out to the side. Blindly patting the blankets until you find one of the candies that spilled out of the container, shoving it past his parted lips before he can utter another word.

His mouth wobbles. Torn between a smile and something he wants to say. Neither manages to win the upper hand, instead beaten by a secret third thing. Because now he's sitting up, wearily bracing himself on that good arm, eyes falling shut midway as he leans in to kiss you. Knocking into each other so abruptly that your teeth audibly clatter.

But the wind is twirling past you with a kind of ferocity that wasn't there before, and in the back of your mind you're convinced that you've inadvertently caused it to happen. Distant storm falling into a rage as you tumble forward, forearms resting on either side of his head, hands in his hair, drowning yourself in the lemonade and candy that paints his tongue. 

Something sparks behind your eyes. "Rhett..."

He doesn't respond. Doesn't need to. The lift of his hips is more than enough of a reply, so sudden that it rips a sharp noise out of your throat. A decade of bull riding has made him too fucking strong for his own good, pushing up into you with devastating ease. 

This...thisis something. His breath tickling your skin. Your chest against his, nails scraping at his scalp. Helpless to do nothing but whine as he brushes against those little spots once more. Long, heaving motions that jostle you with every thrust, your eyes already struggling to remain open. 

"Rhett," repeating yourself like a broken record, panting into his ear like you're getting paid to do it.

The ground shakes. Lightning strikes somewhere in the distance, volting through the soil, up through your knees, and into your belly. Or maybe it's not lightning at all, simply the dizzying sensation of his cock driving up into you with a sickeningly wet noise. You can't help the way your legs squeeze impossibly tight around him. Can't stop the familiar tingle from settling into your core, spreading down into your thighs. 

You don't remember when the babbling started, but you can hear the sound of your name twisting through the air, chanting beneath his breath like a melody. His prickly cheek rubs against yours, and you just know that it's going to leave your skin raw, but you can't bring yourself to pull away. 

"'m gonna..." the rasp of his voice has you clamping tighter around him. A whimper slips off his tongue. "I—"

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. One look is all you need. 

You are, too. 

There's no need for you to reach down and touch yourself. His cock alone is enough to have you crumbling like a house of cards, burying your head into the crook of his neck, unable to muffle every little noise he punches out of you. Downright merciless as he rubs into those sensitive little nerves over and over and over and—

A ghost of wind is enough to push you over the edge. Tumbling over the edge and into the abyss, the world around you going quiet as you cum around his cock. Not a sound breaking past your lips, head swirling round and round until you can no longer tell which way is up. 

You're only distantly aware of the sudden stalling of Rhett's hips, pushing up into you so hard that he lifts you up. Can't miss the sensation of his cock twitching, his cum spilling into your pussy, rope after rope of it, so much that you think you can feel it pooling inside of you.

A drop of rain hits your shoulder. Cold. Biting into your skin with its sharp little teeth. 

The storm is so much closer now, thick clouds hanging overhead, blocking out the stars entirely. Electricity arcs across the sky as you begin to lift yourself up before your body is even ready to move. 

Rhett's cock slips out of you with an awkward noise, slapping audibly against his belly. Shit, you can already feel it beginning to spill out, don't know how you plan to get home without making a mess of your clothes. 

A groan sounds from below you. "So fuckin' full of it," the soft tip of his cock presses back into you, and you don't need to look to know that Rhett's eyes are fixated on the obscene sight of his cum leaking out of you. "God damn."

"Well, don't...mmh, don't keep pushing it in," but your complaint is futile, and you're making no effort to try and stop him. No point in it, you suppose; it's not as if you can clean yourself up out here. 

He chuckles at that. You think the stars have secretly gathered in his eyes, sparkling in those deep blues. "Can't do nothin' 'bout it now."

"Hold on!" Your giggles echo through the kitchen, wet feet stumbling across the tile. "I can't move that fast!" 

But Rhett's hand keeps tugging you along, sliding around the corner and into the hallway. Water pours from his hair and shoulders, speckling across the floor, leaving a trail in his wake. A mess that you'd complain about if not for your own soaked clothes, so cold that you've gone entirely numb. 

Lights flicker overhead, power fading in and out as the storm rages on. Rain striking the windows so hard that you can hear it, even as you fumble down the hallway. Wet socks slide against the tile as you try to turn, your shoulder bumping into Rhett's. His hip smacks into the door frame. Your feet tangle. 

"We ain't never doin' that again," he's stumbling toward the shower, reaching for the knobs. Twists until he can't crank the hot water up any hotter. Something, anything to melt away the ice that's about to freeze over your skin.

You reach for the hem of your shirt, the fabric clinging to you like a second skin. "I thought you liked having sex outside."

"I do," he pauses, pulling the material over your head. It audibly hits the floor, the beginnings of yet another mess. "I don't like downpours 'n hail!" 

The red mark on his forehead is only just beginning to bloom, sure to darken as the night rages on. It's a little too high up to be blamed on a bar fight, but you're sure he'll find a way to play it off when his momma asks about what happened. 

Your pants are on the floor before he can finish getting his flannel off, not a care in the world for where they land. Your mind only has enough room for one thought at a time: hot water. A cloud of steam greets you as you step into the shower. The water has yet to hit your skin, and yet you can already feel yourself melting, the heat eating away at the invisible frost that has long since settled upon you. 

It's almost too hot, the spray seeming to burn little holes straight through your chest, and your toes sting. Such a sharp contrast compared to the heat that you wonder if it'll eat you alive.

A firm chest presses against your naked back, familiar arms settling loosely around your waist. "Y' jus' gonna leave me behind like that?" His attempt at sounding irritated doesn't miss your ears, but it dies before he can finish the sentence. Isn't helped by the kisses that appear on your shoulder.  

"If you can ride bulls, then you can climb into the shower by yourself," leaning back into him, your eyes fall closed. It might be the first time you've blinked since the rain began to fall, starting the moment you'd begun gathering the blankets into your arms. Mother Nature's punishment for not taking her warnings seriously.

Rhett hums, the vibration tickling the side of your neck. "Then." Kiss. "I should probably." Kiss. "Tell you." Kiss. "That we didn't bring any clean clothes..." Kiss. "Or towels."

...the towels. 

Your groan bounces off the tile walls and out into the hallway, probably even ventures past the closet and out into the living room. Why did it never occur to you to grab towels and clothes before you climbed in here?

"We'll rock paper scissors it after we rinse off," it's the same solution he uses for every conflict, but you find yourself agreeing with the idea anyway. 

He loses. Never deviates from playing rock, even when he knows full well that you will forever play paper. You're not sure if he's waiting for the day that you crack and play scissors or if he's intentionally losing, but you've got the sneaking suspicion it's the latter. He's way too content to dart into the hallway for towels, returning with more than either of you could possibly need.

"Did you grab every towel in the closet?" You laugh as you pull one of them around your shoulders, hugging it to yourself like a blanket. It's too damn cold in this house.

"No," then, grinning, "I left one behind."

He's gone before you've finished drying off, comes back one more time with your favorite pajamas in his hand, then disappears into the darkness of the house. Where he's gone, you're not sure; it's hard to tell when he never turns any of the lights on, navigating based on muscle memory alone. 

But you can hear the television turning on, your forgotten movie picking up right where it left off. 

"Rhett?" Calling out as you mosey out of the bathroom.

Damp carpet squishes beneath your feet, frigid and not at all what you expected to find yourself standing on. Only seems to get worse as you make your way down the hall, hopelessly soaked with rainwater. The old fan is already out, cool air blowing across the worst of it, licking at your heels when you step past.

Rhett's pale shoulders stick out like a sore thumb in the living room. All too visible as he moves around, hands audibly patting something down on the couch. Blankets. The ones off the bed, out of the closet, hell, he's grabbed the decorative one off the rocking chair. All to build an oversized nest, high around the edges, like he's trying to keep something out. So focused on the task at hand that he doesn't notice you until it's too late.

"Jesus!" His naked back jumps away from you as if burned by your kiss.

"Watcha buildin'?" Your speech mimicking his just a little more than usual, already leaning in to press a second kiss in between the knobs of his spine. Rhett twists in your arms before you can land a third, the swell of his chest mere inches from your lips now.

You'll smooch him here, too. 

"Our last line of defense," his giggle rides on the coattails of another roll of thunder. "Jus' in case that storm knocks out the power 'n steals our heat."

You don't realize his arms are around you until he's falling toward the couch, taking you right along with him, landing in a messy heap on top of the blankets. A box of candy rattles behind your back. Someone bumps into the remote, the movie pausing on the television screen. 

A piece of the candy bounces off your chin, narrowly misses landing back in Rhett's hand. You find it squished between your chests, pushing it between his parted lips. 

"Y' gonna keep force feedin' me candy?" He asks, that little candy rolling across his tongue as he speaks. Wonder if you'll be able to taste it if you kiss him. 

You lean in, nuzzling your noses together. "It's my new party trick."

His eyes roll so hard that you hope they'll get stuck. 

[hubristicassholefight]

Hubristic Assholes Tourney Round 1 Part 3a

Erin Ruunaser (Aurora) vs Manfred von Karma (Ace Attorney)

Propaganda below cut (Spoiler warning!)

Erin

So in Aurora, there was this ancient, magical storm that been going on for centuries. The further one went in, the more likely they were to die either due to the hostile environment or the massive amounts of ambient magic would begin to basically destroy their body from the inside. Erin looked at this and basically went “yes, but I’m built different” and went inside with zero backup. Now, technically speaking, he is in a way built different as he is one of the only people in the world who can control all of the six (known) magical elements that make up the Storm, so he was able to bypass all of the obstacles and make it to the center. When he got there, he unknowingly activated a trap that destroyed the Storm and caused him to become possessed by an eldritch star-eating dragon, whose physical body is still stuck in the core of the planet and wants to use his new vessel to free himself. Whoopsie! Now, Erin is searching for a way to sever his link with the dragon without his buddies from the Academy finding out. Also he’s being hunted by Paladins now. Fun times; At one point, he tries to learn more about the Void Dragon by accessing a Paladin library. The receptionist doesn’t let him in because he isn’t a Paladin, and he basically goes full Karen on her (he literally asks to speak with her supervisor/manager). Then he learns that one of his friends will be held prisoner for as long as they plan to stay in the city (long story). Erin still plans to stay for as long as he needs to get information on the evil Void Dragon. Said dragon literally appears in his dream that night to tell him he’s being kind of an asshole. Also despite all of this, Erin still isn’t entirely sure if the Light Dragon worshiped by the Paladins is even real. He knows the Void Dragon is real, but the opposite still seems like a stretch I guess. Also the receptionist from earlier is one of the Paladins currently hunting him. He needs to be shoved in a locker. I need to shove him in a locker.

Travels through a famously dangerous magic storm just because he can, fixes some kind of broken magic rune circle that is causing the storm, getting possessed by the evil Void Dragon in the process; He once tried to talk his way into a restricted library and got shot down hilariously

He tries to explore to the center of this volatile magic storm that no one's ever gotten to the center of, and immediately gets possessed by the primordial void dragon that had been waiting for someone exactly like him to try to get to the center of the storm. At the time of writing this he's about to try to cross an ocean on an experimental never-before-seen type of boat, which i suspect will only go well and will have no problems :)

Ventures into a giant magical storm, declaring that the only reason no one has ever reached the center is because he hasn't tried to yet. Reaches the center and promptly decides to switch off the magical pedestal creating the storm, because he can, and gets possessed by a star-eating eldritch dragon god for his trouble.

Literally the first thing he does in the comic is go explore a highly dangerous magical storm just because he's currently the one person in the world who can manipulate all six traditional magic elements and is therefore the only person who can explore the storm safely. At its center, Erin discovers a cracked pedestal with the elemental runes on it and deduces it to be the cause of the storm, then just stops the storm without a second thought, which is notable for two reasons: 1. By the time the audience gets this info, we've already seen a town whose infrastructure depends on the strong winds the storm produces, which is obviously no longer viable 2. The storm itself turned out to have been a trap set by an ancient evil star-eating dragon trapped in the center of the planet which has now possessed Erin. He's actually incredibly booksmart and puts that knowledge to very impressive use sometimes, but he is also known to be impulsive, overcome with confusion when presented with a thing he doesn't know about already, and of course, hubristic. (he does demonstrate a pretty well-aligned moral compass when it counts, though) In summary, I really like him because his combination of character traits makes him flip-flop wildly between "exactly as awesome as he thinks he is" and "hopelessly cringefail" depending on the situation and it never stops making sense. He's so smart but he's so stupid.

(Spoilers) This dude walked into a massive magical storm that literally nobody lived long enough to see the center of, all while gloating about how smart he is, then touched a highly suspicious symbol and got himself possessed by basically Satan. He then proceeds to lecture Not-Satan on how he’s the smart one on this team and that he better sit down and shut up unless he wants to be killed by his MANY enemies. And the strange part is that it worked; The fandom gave him the nicknames “Icarus” “Sicktats McHubris” and “Pompous Nitwit” and I think that says a lot about him

Manfred

During a trial against Miles Edgworth’s dad Gregory Edgeworth Manfred von karma gets a penalty he does not lose the trial however he considers this penalty an egregious enough crime that he must kill Gregory Edgeworth. And he does however due to Miles throwing a gun he gets shot in the shoulder causing him to take his one and only vacation to recover. However he doesn’t get the bullet removed to avoid questioning as to why he has a bullet in his shoulder. For 15 years he gets away with it (miles doesn’t know it was him it’s a whole thing) but then just a few days before the statute of limitations is up on the murder of Gregory Edgeworth he decides to with the help of the Yani Yogi the man originally accused of murdering Gregory Edgeworth frame Miles for the murder of the defense attorney that got Yani off with an insanity plea (which is why Yani hates the man) then after it’s proven Yani is the murder Miles confesses to killing his dad and in Manfred’s attempt to convict Miles for that it’s proven that he killed Gregory. How? Phoenix uses a metal detector to detect the bullet in his shoulder; The thing that kills me about Manfred “I killed a man because he gave me a penalty in court” Von Karma is that he absolutely could’ve gotten away with it if he didn’t try to get revenge on Miles. He was so confident that he would get Miles convicted if not for the murder of Robert Hammond than for the murder of his own father. He was so confident because there’s no way this attorney with only 3 cases under his belt will beat him not when he tased him and that weird girl tagging along with him in the evidence room preventing him from getting any evidence on the DL-6 case except he didn’t prevent them he didn’t even bother to check because that weird girl ended up holding onto a bullet. the bullet that killed Gregory a bullet they could use to for comparison to see if a bullet was shot from the same gun a bullet like the one in Manfred’s shoulder. The bullet he didn’t have removed to avoid the question of “where did that bullet in your shoulder come from”

[caffeinatedbraincell]

So you asked about prompts? ;D What about Joe/Nicky + any team member cuddling for warmth? Or something about all of them sharing clothes? Huge bonus if Lykon is still part of the Guard ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you anon for the ask!! 💕 This took forever but here it is~

Read on AO3

“Whose idea was this, again?” Joe complained, readjusting the weight of the front half of the giant plastic evergreen. He was sweating and freezing at the same time, which was decidedly one of his least favorite feelings ever.

“Yeah, I wonder,” Quynh seconded from behind him, throwing Andy a dirty look.

Andy sauntered hands-free in front of them, talking animatedly with Nicky and Lykon as they walked. The three of them clearly loved the snow, though Joe doubted they would be having even half as much fun if they had to carry the tree.

Quynh spat out some plastic pine needles. “Andromache! It’s your turn to carry this, come here!”

“Pleeease babe, we’re almost home!”

“Yeah,” Nicky interjected. “Besides, we have to carry the presents!” He waved the small, sparkly gift bag at them before pointedly turning back around.

Joe muttered something in Arabic about lazy spouses with nice asses, and Quynh cackled.

“Alright, alright,” Lykon interjected, jumping in front to get everyone’s attention. “Booker just texted me that he’s managed to get Nile out of the house under the pretext of, and I quote, ‘the snowball duel of the century.’ They’re going to the mountain pass, so we have two hours to get set up.”

“Perfetto,” Nicky said. “It’ll take me about twenty minutes to get the cookies in the oven, and then I’ll help decorate the tree.”

“You better get out in less than twenty,” Quynh warned. “When am I supposed to work? Do you even know how long it takes to cook chicken?”

“He doesn’t,” Joe confirmed.

“Habibi, that’s not fair. What about that time I made-”

A long, ominous buzz innervated all of their phones simultaneously. It was an emergency weather alert.

“Blizzard warning until 2:15 AM. All inner city residents are encouraged to shelter in place until further notice. Sudden snowfall and landslides may prove deadly,” Nicky read.

“Lykon, text Booker,” Andy ordered.

“On it.”

“No use,” Nicky cut in. “They’re probably already at the mountain pass. They won’t make it back in time.”

Andy swore loudly. “Joe, get the car. We’re going after them.”

Quynh and Joe dropped the tree and ran towards the house. By the time Joe started the car, Quynh was climbing down the porch steps with an armful of towels. The five of them piled into the car and tore down the icy roads.

The storm picked up with terrifying haste. When they got to the bridge near the mountain pass, visibility was already nearing zero. Joe switched places with Andy, clambering into the passenger seat so she could take the wheel. If anything could help them now, it was Andy’s extensive experience with driving in extreme weather conditions.

As they traveled through the pass, everyone kept their eyes trained on the snowy slopes, looking for any signs of Nile and Booker.

Suddenly, Lykon cried out in horror. Only a few feet away from the road were two motionless bodies, almost fully buried in a snow drift.

“Cazzo!” Nicky yelled, leaping out of the car. “There must have been an avalanche!”

Andy shoved the gearshift into parking and followed, joining the others as they attempted to dig out their friends with their bare hands. About two minutes after the frostbite set in, they were able to pull Nile and Booker free of the drift.

“Why aren’t they waking up?” Lykon asked, a tinge of panic in his voice. Andy rubbed Nile’s wrist as she looked at her watch, attempting to measure a pulse. Nicky tried to do the same for Booker, unconsciously chanting a Hail Mary under his breath.

Quynh stepped forward. “We need to get them back to the car. The heater will warm them up and help dry them off. Come on.”

Joe picked up Nile in his arms, cradling her head. Quynh threw Booker over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. This time, they noticed neither the weight nor the cold. Their entire focus was on getting their friends home to warmth and safety.

“Joe, your coat,” Andy said as they got to the car. “It’s fleece. Take Nile’s ski jacket off and give her yours.”

Joe obeyed without hesitation, bundling her in his own winter gear and buckling her into the back seat. Meanwhile, Quynh and Nicky used the towels to dry off Booker’s snow coat as best as they could. Lykon climbed into the passenger seat, and Andy began to drive.

Thankfully, the storm didn’t get worse on their way back (though Joe seriously doubted it could get worse). By the time Andy pulled into their driveway, Nile and Booker were beginning to stir.

“Hey, easy now,” Lykon soothed, helping a dazed Booker out of the car. “Let’s get you inside. There we go, you’re okay. Just a little farther.”

Behind them, Nile leaned heavily on Quynh as she half-carried her up the porch steps. Joe paused, watching them enter.

“All okay?” Andy asked, placing a hand on his shoulder as the wind whipped the snow around them.

“The tree…” Joe muttered, fazed. “I dropped it somewhere. We were going to surprise Nile, and I-”

Andy turned him gently to face her, pulling his woolen beanie down to cover his ears.

“It’s alright, love,” she said softly, switching to Arabic. “She needs a different kind of comfort from us now. She and Booker both. Let’s go take care of them, okay?”

Joe nodded, following her into the warmth of their home.

A fire blazed happily in the hearth. Someone had expanded their futon and pulled it closer to the fireplace. Nile and Booker were seated on it now, wearing large, clean sweatpants - Nicky’s sweatpants, Joe noticed - and fuzzy Christmas sweaters. Quynh and Lykon were snuggled up on either side of them, feeding them something from a thermos flask and adjusting the heated blankets.

“Room for two more?” Andy grinned, curling up next to Quynh and gesturing at Joe to sit. “What’s that?” Joe asked, sliding under Lykon’s side of the blanket and pointing at the steaming drink in the thermos.

“I made apple cider earlier and left it in the instant pot,” Lykon replied. “It was still hot.”

Lykon held the drink to Nile’s lips. She took a large sip, sighing happily. Joe made a mental note to pour himself some cider if he ever got out from under this heated blanket.

Just then, Nicky walked out of the kitchen, balancing a large tray in his hands. “Soup time! Everyone sit up, let’s eat.”

Joe blinked, wondering how his husband had had the presence of mind to immediately go into the kitchen and make soup, of all things. He himself was still recovering from the last hour’s ordeal.

Nicky tutted disapprovingly. “Boss, get changed. Joe, you too. Why would you think it’s a good idea to get under an electric blanket in wet clothes?”

Andy grimaced, throwing her jacket and t-shirt on the floor and snuggling up to Quynh in just her bra. Quynh tugged Andy closer.

Nicky turned to Joe, raising an eyebrow. “Habibi?”

Joe pulled a face. “Do you have any sweatpants left for me?”

“Always.” Nicky ruffled Joe’s curls. “My gray university ones are in the dryer. They’ll still be warm if you hurry.”

Joe got up, returning two minutes later in the gray sweatpants and a black tank top he stole off of Andy’s dresser. He hastily dove back under Lykon’s heated blanket.

In the middle of the couch, swaddled in blankets and eating soup, Nile and Booker were looking much more alive. The color returned to their cheeks, intensifying as Nicky began to scold them.

“Booker, what the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded.

“I don’t know! You said to distract Nile, and she wanted to have a snowball fight. So I said yes!”

“Why didn’t you just go to the park?”

“I thought driving out to the mountain pass would buy you guys more time. It was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

“You could have died, Book! Just because we’re immortal doesn’t mean we can play with our lives like that. Not to mention, you put Nile in danger!”

Quynh sat up, reaching for Nicky’s hands. She swiped her thumbs over his knuckles in a soothing gesture. “Hey, lay off him, would you? They’ve had a tough night.”

“But what if-”

“No what-ifs, Nicky. It’s alright. They’re safe. Now put the rest of that soup down and come here.”

Nicky sighed in secret gratitude. This was not a night he wanted to be left to follow his thoughts. “Fine.”

He squeezed onto the futon between Quynh and Nile, accepting the blanket Andy threw over him. He wrapped his arms around Nile, who snuggled closer.

“Nicky?” she mumbled after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“If you’re not still angry, can I ask you a question?”

Nicky pulled back to look at her. “Sorellina, I’m so sorry. I was never angry at you. Nor at Booker, really. Just a bit worried.”

“Yeah,” Joe piped up from the other end of the couch. “He gets mean when he’s scared.”

“I am not mean,” Nicky insisted. “Nile, what was it you wanted to ask?”

“Why did Booker say you wanted him to distract me? Distract me from what?”

Lykon laughed. “Should we tell her, Nicky, or do we plan to try again tomorrow?”

“We lost the tree, so I think we should just tell her,” Joe voted sleepily.

“You just don’t want to carry another tree,” Booker accused.

“Easy for you to say!” Quynh jumped in. “Next time, I’ll distract her, and you can walk a mile in the snow with plastic pine needles in your face.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Andy said, lips twitching. “No more attempts. Jesus wasn’t actually born on this day, anyway. I was there.”

Nicky blinked at her, and then rapidly shook his head to clear it. He looked at Nile. “We were trying to surprise you with a Christmas party. Remember last Thursday, when you were telling us how your family celebrated it back home?”

“Yeah.”

“We wanted to recreate all the same traditions. We got a tree, and some ornaments, and stockings with your initials on it, and, uh…”

“Presents! And that Christmas music you like,” Joe added.

“Yes, and Nicky was going to make cookies shaped like reindeer,” Quynh said.

“Also,” Lykon pointed to a folded-up tripod in the corner, “we were going to take family photos in our sweaters and put them on postcards. Copley said we can’t send them to anyone, but we could still make some.”

Booker sighed. “Sorry I ruined it, Nile. I thought- wait, are you crying?!”

Nile sniffled, turning away from Booker to tuck her face under the blanket. “No.”

“Oh, honey,” Quynh cooed. We can still do it all tomorrow, if you want…”

“It’s not that,” Nile croaked. “It’s just- You guys did all that just to surprise me?”

“It’s nothing,” Nicky assured. “Well, it’s really nothing now, but even if everything had gone according to plan, it still wouldn’t have been any trouble. It’s your first Christmas with us, and we wanted it to be memorable.”

“You’re the best,” Nile said, voice choked with emotions. “All of you. And this is the best Christmas Eve ever. Thank you.”

“Hush,” Andy smirked. “In this house, we show gratitude by not dying unnecessarily.”

“Oh, that was all Booker’s fault,” Nile countered smoothly. “I would have been content with a snowball fight in the park.”

“Really loving the underside of this bus,” Booker muttered as the others laughed.

Over the next hour, the lighthearted conversation drifted into sleepy silence. By the time Nicky thought to ask who would turn off the lights, Joe was only half-pretending to be fast asleep.

[justforbooks]

Yuval Noah Harari: the world after coronavirus

This storm will pass. But the choices we make now could change our lives for years to come

Humankind is now facing a global crisis. Perhaps the biggest crisis of our generation. The decisions people and governments take in the next few weeks will probably shape the world for years to come. They will shape not just our healthcare systems but also our economy, politics and culture. We must act quickly and decisively. We should also take into account the long-term consequences of our actions. When choosing between alternatives, we should ask ourselves not only how to overcome the immediate threat, but also what kind of world we will inhabit once the storm passes. Yes, the storm will pass, humankind will survive, most of us will still be alive — but we will inhabit a different world.

Many short-term emergency measures will become a fixture of life. That is the nature of emergencies. They fast-forward historical processes. Decisions that in normal times could take years of deliberation are passed in a matter of hours. Immature and even dangerous technologies are pressed into service, because the risks of doing nothing are bigger. Entire countries serve as guinea-pigs in large-scale social experiments. What happens when everybody works from home and communicates only at a distance? What happens when entire schools and universities go online? In normal times, governments, businesses and educational boards would never agree to conduct such experiments. But these aren’t normal times.

In this time of crisis, we face two particularly important choices. The first is between totalitarian surveillance and citizen empowerment. The second is between nationalist isolation and global solidarity.

Under-the-skin surveillance

In order to stop the epidemic, entire populations need to comply with certain guidelines. There are two main ways of achieving this. One method is for the government to monitor people, and punish those who break the rules. Today, for the first time in human history, technology makes it possible to monitor everyone all the time. Fifty years ago, the KGB couldn’t follow 240m Soviet citizens 24 hours a day, nor could the KGB hope to effectively process all the information gathered. The KGB relied on human agents and analysts, and it just couldn’t place a human agent to follow every citizen. But now governments can rely on ubiquitous sensors and powerful algorithms instead of flesh-and-blood spooks.

In their battle against the coronavirus epidemic several governments have already deployed the new surveillance tools. The most notable case is China. By closely monitoring people’s smartphones, making use of hundreds of millions of face-recognising cameras, and obliging people to check and report their body temperature and medical condition, the Chinese authorities can not only quickly identify suspected coronavirus carriers, but also track their movements and identify anyone they came into contact with. A range of mobile apps warn citizens about their proximity to infected patients.

This kind of technology is not limited to east Asia. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel recently authorised the Israel Security Agency to deploy surveillance technology normally reserved for battling terrorists to track coronavirus patients. When the relevant parliamentary subcommittee refused to authorise the measure, Netanyahu rammed it through with an “emergency decree”.

You might argue that there is nothing new about all this. In recent years both governments and corporations have been using ever more sophisticated technologies to track, monitor and manipulate people. Yet if we are not careful, the epidemic might nevertheless mark an important watershed in the history of surveillance. Not only because it might normalise the deployment of mass surveillance tools in countries that have so far rejected them, but even more so because it signifies a dramatic transition from “over the skin” to “under the skin” surveillance.

Hitherto, when your finger touched the screen of your smartphone and clicked on a link, the government wanted to know what exactly your finger was clicking on. But with coronavirus, the focus of interest shifts. Now the government wants to know the temperature of your finger and the blood-pressure under its skin.

The emergency pudding

One of the problems we face in working out where we stand on surveillance is that none of us know exactly how we are being surveilled, and what the coming years might bring. Surveillance technology is developing at breakneck speed, and what seemed science-fiction 10 years ago is today old news. As a thought experiment, consider a hypothetical government that demands that every citizen wears a biometric bracelet that monitors body temperature and heart-rate 24 hours a day. The resulting data is hoarded and analysed by government algorithms. The algorithms will know that you are sick even before you know it, and they will also know where you have been, and who you have met. The chains of infection could be drastically shortened, and even cut altogether. Such a system could arguably stop the epidemic in its tracks within days. Sounds wonderful, right?

The downside is, of course, that this would give legitimacy to a terrifying new surveillance system. If you know, for example, that I clicked on a Fox News link rather than a CNN link, that can teach you something about my political views and perhaps even my personality. But if you can monitor what happens to my body temperature, blood pressure and heart-rate as I watch the video clip, you can learn what makes me laugh, what makes me cry, and what makes me really, really angry.

It is crucial to remember that anger, joy, boredom and love are biological phenomena just like fever and a cough. The same technology that identifies coughs could also identify laughs. If corporations and governments start harvesting our biometric data en masse, they can get to know us far better than we know ourselves, and they can then not just predict our feelings but also manipulate our feelings and sell us anything they want — be it a product or a politician. Biometric monitoring would make Cambridge Analytica’s data hacking tactics look like something from the Stone Age. Imagine North Korea in 2030, when every citizen has to wear a biometric bracelet 24 hours a day. If you listen to a speech by the Great Leader and the bracelet picks up the tell-tale signs of anger, you are done for.

You could, of course, make the case for biometric surveillance as a temporary measure taken during a state of emergency. It would go away once the emergency is over. But temporary measures have a nasty habit of outlasting emergencies, especially as there is always a new emergency lurking on the horizon. My home country of Israel, for example, declared a state of emergency during its 1948 War of Independence, which justified a range of temporary measures from press censorship and land confiscation to special regulations for making pudding (I kid you not). The War of Independence has long been won, but Israel never declared the emergency over, and has failed to abolish many of the “temporary” measures of 1948 (the emergency pudding decree was mercifully abolished in 2011).

Even when infections from coronavirus are down to zero, some data-hungry governments could argue they needed to keep the biometric surveillance systems in place because they fear a second wave of coronavirus, or because there is a new Ebola strain evolving in central Africa, or because . . . you get the idea. A big battle has been raging in recent years over our privacy. The coronavirus crisis could be the battle’s tipping point. For when people are given a choice between privacy and health, they will usually choose health.

The soap police

Asking people to choose between privacy and health is, in fact, the very root of the problem. Because this is a false choice. We can and should enjoy both privacy and health. We can choose to protect our health and stop the coronavirus epidemic not by instituting totalitarian surveillance regimes, but rather by empowering citizens. In recent weeks, some of the most successful efforts to contain the coronavirus epidemic were orchestrated by South Korea, Taiwan and Singapore. While these countries have made some use of tracking applications, they have relied far more on extensive testing, on honest reporting, and on the willing co-operation of a well-informed public.

Centralised monitoring and harsh punishments aren’t the only way to make people comply with beneficial guidelines. When people are told the scientific facts, and when people trust public authorities to tell them these facts, citizens can do the right thing even without a Big Brother watching over their shoulders. A self-motivated and well-informed population is usually far more powerful and effective than a policed, ignorant population.

Consider, for example, washing your hands with soap. This has been one of the greatest advances ever in human hygiene. This simple action saves millions of lives every year. While we take it for granted, it was only in the 19th century that scientists discovered the importance of washing hands with soap. Previously, even doctors and nurses proceeded from one surgical operation to the next without washing their hands. Today billions of people daily wash their hands, not because they are afraid of the soap police, but rather because they understand the facts. I wash my hands with soap because I have heard of viruses and bacteria, I understand that these tiny organisms cause diseases, and I know that soap can remove them.

But to achieve such a level of compliance and co-operation, you need trust. People need to trust science, to trust public authorities, and to trust the media. Over the past few years, irresponsible politicians have deliberately undermined trust in science, in public authorities and in the media. Now these same irresponsible politicians might be tempted to take the high road to authoritarianism, arguing that you just cannot trust the public to do the right thing.

Normally, trust that has been eroded for years cannot be rebuilt overnight. But these are not normal times. In a moment of crisis, minds too can change quickly. You can have bitter arguments with your siblings for years, but when some emergency occurs, you suddenly discover a hidden reservoir of trust and amity, and you rush to help one another. Instead of building a surveillance regime, it is not too late to rebuild people’s trust in science, in public authorities and in the media. We should definitely make use of new technologies too, but these technologies should empower citizens. I am all in favour of monitoring my body temperature and blood pressure, but that data should not be used to create an all-powerful government. Rather, that data should enable me to make more informed personal choices, and also to hold government accountable for its decisions.

If I could track my own medical condition 24 hours a day, I would learn not only whether I have become a health hazard to other people, but also which habits contribute to my health. And if I could access and analyse reliable statistics on the spread of coronavirus, I would be able to judge whether the government is telling me the truth and whether it is adopting the right policies to combat the epidemic. Whenever people talk about surveillance, remember that the same surveillance technology can usually be used not only by governments to monitor individuals — but also by individuals to monitor governments.

The coronavirus epidemic is thus a major test of citizenship. In the days ahead, each one of us should choose to trust scientific data and healthcare experts over unfounded conspiracy theories and self-serving politicians. If we fail to make the right choice, we might find ourselves signing away our most precious freedoms, thinking that this is the only way to safeguard our health.

We need a global plan

The second important choice we confront is between nationalist isolation and global solidarity. Both the epidemic itself and the resulting economic crisis are global problems. They can be solved effectively only by global co-operation.

First and foremost, in order to defeat the virus we need to share information globally. That’s the big advantage of humans over viruses. A coronavirus in China and a coronavirus in the US cannot swap tips about how to infect humans. But China can teach the US many valuable lessons about coronavirus and how to deal with it. What an Italian doctor discovers in Milan in the early morning might well save lives in Tehran by evening. When the UK government hesitates between several policies, it can get advice from the Koreans who have already faced a similar dilemma a month ago. But for this to happen, we need a spirit of global co-operation and trust.

Countries should be willing to share information openly and humbly seek advice, and should be able to trust the data and the insights they receive. We also need a global effort to produce and distribute medical equipment, most notably testing kits and respiratory machines. Instead of every country trying to do it locally and hoarding whatever equipment it can get, a co-ordinated global effort could greatly accelerate production and make sure life-saving equipment is distributed more fairly. Just as countries nationalise key industries during a war, the human war against coronavirus may require us to “humanise” the crucial production lines. A rich country with few coronavirus cases should be willing to send precious equipment to a poorer country with many cases, trusting that if and when it subsequently needs help, other countries will come to its assistance.

We might consider a similar global effort to pool medical personnel. Countries currently less affected could send medical staff to the worst-hit regions of the world, both in order to help them in their hour of need, and in order to gain valuable experience. If later on the focus of the epidemic shifts, help could start flowing in the opposite direction.

Global co-operation is vitally needed on the economic front too. Given the global nature of the economy and of supply chains, if each government does its own thing in complete disregard of the others, the result will be chaos and a deepening crisis. We need a global plan of action, and we need it fast.

Another requirement is reaching a global agreement on travel. Suspending all international travel for months will cause tremendous hardships, and hamper the war against coronavirus. Countries need to co-operate in order to allow at least a trickle of essential travellers to continue crossing borders: scientists, doctors, journalists, politicians, businesspeople. This can be done by reaching a global agreement on the pre-screening of travellers by their home country. If you know that only carefully screened travellers were allowed on a plane, you would be more willing to accept them into your country.

Unfortunately, at present countries hardly do any of these things. A collective paralysis has gripped the international community. There seem to be no adults in the room. One would have expected to see already weeks ago an emergency meeting of global leaders to come up with a common plan of action. The G7 leaders managed to organise a video conference only this week, and it did not result in any such plan.

In previous global crises — such as the 2008 financial crisis and the 2014 Ebola epidemic — the US assumed the role of global leader. But the current US administration has abdicated the job of leader. It has made it very clear that it cares about the greatness of America far more than about the future of humanity.

This administration has abandoned even its closest allies. When it banned all travel from the EU, it didn’t bother to give the EU so much as an advance notice — let alone consult with the EU about that drastic measure. It has scandalised Germany by allegedly offering $1bn to a German pharmaceutical company to buy monopoly rights to a new Covid-19 vaccine. Even if the current administration eventually changes tack and comes up with a global plan of action, few would follow a leader who never takes responsibility, who never admits mistakes, and who routinely takes all the credit for himself while leaving all the blame to others.

If the void left by the US isn’t filled by other countries, not only will it be much harder to stop the current epidemic, but its legacy will continue to poison international relations for years to come. Yet every crisis is also an opportunity. We must hope that the current epidemic will help humankind realise the acute danger posed by global disunity.

Humanity needs to make a choice. Will we travel down the route of disunity, or will we adopt the path of global solidarity? If we choose disunity, this will not only prolong the crisis, but will probably result in even worse catastrophes in the future. If we choose global solidarity, it will be a victory not only against the coronavirus, but against all future epidemics and crises that might assail humankind in the 21st century.

Yuval Noah Harari is author of ‘Sapiens’, ‘Homo Deus’ and ‘21 Lessons for the 21st Century’

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[tricked-out]

Early Morning in the Skellington Manor: Anthology #1

Here's the first of the Anthology chapters! Who's ready for more Tricked Out content? [Read it on ff HERE]

Halloween Town

Mid-January, 1993

Just after sunrise

Ivy blinked awake, confusing creeping across her features at the dimmed daylight outside. She listened for a moment, wondering if the Tailypo had decided to have another fight with the Monster Under the Bed, but only silence met her ears. She groaned and flopped onto her stomach, pulling the lumpy pillow over her head in the futile attempt to fall back asleep, but the slow insistence that something something something was wrong refused to stop tapping away in the back of her mind, growing steadily stronger the longer she stayed awake. After a few more fitful, denial-filled moments, she grit her teeth and rolled out of bed, shoving her shoes on and scrubbing her face. Yawning she let the strange tug in her stomach pull her from bed, cracking open the door into the stillness of the Manor.

It wasn’t completely strange to have the Manor be still - contrary to what Citizens may think, Jack did have his quiet spells, hours (days, really) where he directed his energy towards a project, eventually emerging with a sheepish apology and an offer of attention or food - which did make her feel more like a pet, but oh well.

The point, however, was that even in his focused bursts, it was never fully silent: clinking, mumbling, endless pacing and sometimes small, “harmless, really!” explosions.

But tonight (today?) there was none of that. The clock she couldn’t read didn’t tick, so Ivy’s footfalls felt louder than ever. The wood creaked beneath her feet and she fought the urge to hold her breath, watching the beams of early morning sun filter through the dusty windows. She tilted her head, trying to listen the way Jack and the other monsters did, but eventually gave up, rolling her eyes as she headed towards the place he was most likely hiding - that musty study of his.

She shouldered the large door open, peering into the pitch darkness. The air was stale and silent as the tomb, and Ivy hated how her heartbeat picked up.

Jack was there, sitting at his desk, a single candle illuminating the soft bone of his face, even as it sucked out every other light source in the room. His stitched lips were moving, but Ivy couldn’t hear the words, no matter how she strained. His brow was crinkled and his hands were clenched, but most worryingly of all he didn’t move at all when she entered, no twitch of his body betraying that he knew she was there.

All the while, his sockets were fixed on the great black book that was splayed out before him - nearly half his height and wide as the surface of the desk itself, hundreds of fresh and fading names scrawled within. Ivy had only seen the Book of Records once before, and it sent a familiar chill up her spine.

“Jack?” She asked softly, feeling that dark tug in her stomach grow when the skeleton still didn’t move. “Jack?”

……………………………………………………………

Jack’s bones and skull ached. He’d started the morning off so well, too - a game of fetch with Zero outside, fixing a door upstairs that hadn’t been creaking enough, and even a start on some paperwork for the Mayor, all with the soothing sound of Ivy’s heartbeat in at the edge of his awareness. But he’d just had to go to the Book, to flip through the yellowed pages, to see Sally’s name freshly inked in her graceful script, declaring her to be a full Citizen of the Town. He’d let one finger trace the edges of her name, imagining her cloth-soft fingers brushing over the same spot and stubbornly refusing to admit why he wanted to imagine it. But it had all crashed down when he’d noticed a name of the opposite page - one that had been clear, if old, just a few weeks prior and now all but fully faded away. He’d stared, frozen, at the nearly-faded name, almost illegible to the naked eye. How had he not noticed a Citizen was fading to their Second Grave? When had this happened?

How many others?

Then had begun the spiral that he knew all too well - reading over the names of the past, from years before his own arrival in Halloween, desperately trying to keep the names of those that had passed on remembered somehow.

“You’ve forgotten us, Jack,” came a raspy whisper and Jack shuddered, twisting his skull as though to shake it loose.

“No. N - no, I haven’t, I swear -”

He whispered the dead names frantically, the sense of weight and responsibility causing his shoulders to quake. How was he supposed to fulfill his duties when monsters through the ages were dying off? When he was the only one who knew the names of whatever parts of them still existed? When -

Something pulsed at the edge of his awareness, some insistent sound, tiny and hesitant like a mosquito. Jack brushed it aside, dimly noticing that his aura had gotten larger than usual, but he didn’t allow it to break him from his recital. Sockets tracking across the page, lips moving silently, as he tried to ignore the fact that if he were living his breath would be coming quick and short.

The mosquito grew louder, more insistent, and bashed at the edge of his aura. Mind in the past, Jack pulled in his awareness (when had it gotten so large?) and turned his skull towards the intruder, skull creaking and black aura flaring behind him in warning. He knew that the black of his eyes matched the darkness of the room around him, but the familiar sight of human skin and wide eyes stopped him from flinging the intruder across the room.

“Jack?” The human asked, high-pitched and hesitant. Her own miniscule colors had shrunk down unconsciously, aware of the threat Jack gave off. The cobwebs began to recede from his brain, some of the whispers of the past dying down, and the memories of the now trickling in. The name of the human before him fell into place, and he forced himself to unhinge his jaw and answer.

“Ivy.” He knew his voice was raspy and low, and even to him it sounded as though he were speaking from a great distance. “Are… are you alright?”

Ivy stifled a snort of disbelief, and the familiarity of the gesture did more to ground Jack than the feeling of his desk bending beneath his fingers. “I think I should be asking you that,” she retorted, slowly edging her way fully into the room, though keeping her back to the wall in a way she clearly thought was subtle. “What are you doing?”

He glanced at the Book and shuddered, slamming it shut as though to muffle the voices of the dead within, wincing a bit at how Ivy flinched at the noise. He’d worked so hard to not give her a reason to fear him, and now … a wave of exhaustion hit him and he leaned into his hands, kneading the joints of his metacarpals into his sockets. “It’s … it’s nothing, Ivy.”

“Sure doesn’t look like -”

“Go back to bed.” He knew it was curt, but his jaw was growing tense again and he thought he may need a wrench to loosen his bones enough to move. He heard Ivy cross her arms rather than leave and sighed, knowing he didn’t have the energy to fight with her.

“I’m not gonna let you sulk here in the dark - “

“I am not sulking!” Jack’s head swung up, sockets blazing, and both flinched at the volume of his shout. The spark of her fear he tasted in the air was enough to smother his next wave of anger, but he knew it wouldn’t be the same with Ivy. Jack saw the fire kindle in her eyes, the way her fists clenched, and felt his bones tense in preparation for the storm.

But then Ivy paused, her eyes flickering down to the Book, and Jack heard her take a deep breath. He allowed himself to close his sockets once more, knowing he should apologize but unable to bring himself to speak.

He heard her move closer, her footsteps humanly loud and quiet breath disturbing the stillness of life. It was strange, he passingly mused, to have such a strong presence of life in a room so filled with death.

He thought back to the names, the monsters who’d left to their Second Graves, and wished he had the ability to cry.

“Jack, what’s wrong?” It was the softest voice he’d ever heard her use, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. His shoulders hiked, his hands clenched even tighter, and he shook his head, cutting off her next words of, “Jack, it’s ok, you can tell …”

No, he couldn’t. Because what would he do if her name was added to the Book one day, only to fade away as she herself did?

There was a long moment, in the stillness of his study, and if Jack bothered to try, he thought he might have heard the sounds of gears turning in Ivy’s head. As it was, he allowed the darkness in his ribs to seep upwards, drag his body and mind down until nothing seemed to matter but the pain in his joints, or the tug where his heart once was.

It was a surprise, then, to feel a warm human hand slipping under his arm. It was only centuries of self-control (and, yes, perhaps exhaustion) that prevented him from tossing the 16 year old across the room as she applied pressure under his arm, lifting him out of his seat.

“Knew you’d be light, Bone Boy,” she muttered, and Jack heard the words as though they might apply to another. He fancied viewing himself from outside his body, escaping the confines of his overly-large form. He thought it might be a funny sight - a skeleton, over 8 feet tall, folded against a deceptively strong human girl in Halloween clothing, her hair still sticking up from sleep. He saw, rather than felt, his feet drag across the floor as Ivy pulled them out of the study. She was saying something, he knew, but no matter how he tried he couldn’t focus on the words. She seemed to notice, switching to her mother tongue, and Jack almost felt the flicker of a grin at the teasing affection behind her words.

They came to a familiar ebony wood door and Jack could feel some hesitancy in his companion before she lifted once foot and turned the handle, gently kicking the door open. He heard her laugh at something, then felt himself being tipped sideways and onto the soft surface of his bed. He half-heartedly tried to sit up, only for Ivy to strike him in the center of the chest, sending him backwards with an “oof!”

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, in English once more. “I’ll tell Null to howl if you try to get up before sundown.”

Zero? Sure enough, the ghost dog was floating over Ivy’s shoulder, casting the side of her face in a white glow. In intense focus, she scratched under his chin, which resulted in the dog flopping over dramatically and drifting down to rest his head on Jack’s ankle, trapping him in place.

“Seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

Words … those were still difficult, getting his jaw and mind to corporate. “L… La - last week.”

“Ok, not awful,” Ivy conceded, head dipping to the side. She blew a tuft of hair from her face and yanked a blanket over his form, despite the fact that his suit and shoes were still on. “But not great either.”

His jaw creaked as he went to respond, but Ivy was quicker. “That’s ok, though. You’ll get through this.” She paused, giving him a rare serious look. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“How -”

“You get this look when you’re su - brooding,” she amended quickly. Jack didn’t think it was much better, but he was too tired to protest. “You don’t have to tell me, just … you’ve always been here for me. So, I just - I want you to, y’know, know it’s the same if you, uh, need somebody to talk to. I’m,” she cleared her throat, eyes flickering to the ceiling. “I’m here for you too, ok?”

She went to leave, and Jack forced himself to reach out and grasp her hand. She paused, pulse back to a normal speed beneath his fingertips and she glanced over her shoulder at him. She waited, dark hair aglow in the moonlight, as he struggled to speak. He tried to tell her the pressures on his mind, the uncertainty of the future, the darkness that crept around them from all sides. But there was too much youth in her gaze, a humanity he hadn’t seen in years, and he was loath to be the first to disrupt it. So he settled back, instead allowing a much softer, “go to bed” escape his lips.

Her own quirked up, expression almost soft. “Don’t worry, Dad, I will.” It always sent a particular warmth through him when she said that, and it allowed him to loosen his grasp, allowing her fingers to slip through his. “Get some sleep yourself, ok?”

She pointed her finger at him in faux sternness, and Jack allowed himself to smile. “I will. Thank you, love.”

Ivy nodded, making a self-satisfied noise. After a final scritch to Zero, she walked from the room, closing the door with a final, “horrid dreams, Jack!”

The skeleton waited until her heartbeat had faded to kick off his shoes. Zero growled warningly but Jack shushed him, laying back down to placate the dog, who rolled his eyes and tucked himself tighter against Jack. Soon the ghost was fast asleep, almost transparent in the sunlight coming through a crack in his blackout curtains. Jack leaned back against his pillow, feeling a different kind of exhaustion begin to tug him down. A few whispers persisted at the edge of his consciousness, but he was able to ignore them, the internal promise of doing better tomorrow allowing him to fall asleep until sundown.

[ingek73]

Victoria Arbiter: The Prince Harry photo 'debate' that reflects our era of misinformation

By Victoria Arbiter| 11 hours ago

According to Britain's Daily Mail, a "transatlantic row" is brewing over Joe Biden's recent decision to remove a bust of Sir Winston Churchill from the Oval Office, several years after Barack Obama provoked a similar storm.

Suggesting the move a "snub to the UK", critics claim it also indicates a further dwindling of the nations' "special relationship", which has been in existence since WWII.

Joe Biden at Oval Office desk wearing mask

US President Joe Biden in his newly-decorated Oval Office - sans Winston Churchill bust. (Jabin Botsford/Getty Images)

While it's imperative to ensure close ties are maintained, ministers demanding America's head of state display the bust of a former British PM seems arrogant in the extreme. Surely extolling the virtues of one's own citizens takes priority over honouring the international elite.

Likewise, those featured in last week's inauguration represented the very best of America, not the rest of the world. For that reason alone, it was baffling to see many pushing the idea Dr. Jill Biden had requested a photo of Prince Harry to serve as part of the backdrop to her husband's big day.

A close friend of the Bidens, the Prince's achievements speak for themselves, but still it's a stretch to think any president would use an inauguration to give a shout out to a royal. Nonetheless, multiple parties chose to repeat random musings as fact with zero regard for the role they were playing in perpetuating fake news.

As the sun began to set on Inauguration Wednesday, Clinton staffer, Jon Davidson, posted a photo to Twitter revealing Bill and Hillary Clinton deep in conversation with Joe Biden. Clearly instructed to document the day, he took the snap shortly after the former president laid a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery alongside Obama, Bush Jr. and the newly inaugurated Joe Biden.

Though the shot merely captured an innocuous exchange, its background — revealing a large wall mounted image of Prince Harry in Ceremonial Dress — immediately led to an online debate. Given the Prince's close association to the current First Family, some observers were swift to credit the Bidens for featuring the Prince on an opulent scale.

Were it an accurate assumption it would be prestigious indeed, but the picture in question was not hung on the day, nor was it there at the Bidens' request; rather it forms part of a permanent exhibition dedicated to preserving the history of Arlington National Cemetery. Housed in the Memorial Display Room since 2013, it's a fitting reminder of the day Harry laid a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier on behalf of the Queen, the British armed forces and as a representative of the UK.

Prince Harry at the Arlington National Cemetery on May 10, 2013.

A photo of Prince Harry at the Arlington Memorial similar to the one spotted in Jon Davidson's photo. (Getty)

As misinformation goes it was fairly benign, but as the narrative gained traction it spoke to the speed with which fake news now spreads; a problem Prince Harry is especially keen to stamp out. In an interview for Fast Company magazine published a week ago Friday, the Prince spoke of the digital landscape and the role it plays in furthering hate and toxicity in public debate.

Believing social media platforms responsible for helping propagate "an avalanche of misinformation" and "a barrage of mistruths", Harry said, "What happens online does not stay online – it spreads everywhere, like wildfire: into our homes and workplaces, into the streets, into our minds. The question really becomes about what to do when news and information sharing is no longer a decent, truthful exchange, but rather an exchange of weaponry."

In a hard-hitting speech in 2018, Prince William expressed a similar concern. Accusing online firms of being distracted by profit he said, "Technology companies still have a great deal to learn about the responsibilities that come with their significant power."

Prince William and Prince Harry

William and Harry have both condemned the societal impacts of misinformation via big tech. (Getty)

By failing to tackle fake news, division, trolling and privacy, 'Big Tech' arguably shoulders much of the blame, but it's up to users to ensure their digital dialogue is factually based and not a misguided means to promoting a cause. Considering the vitriol unleashed by Harry's inauguration day sighting, we have a long way to go if we're ever to eliminate the endless cycle of hate.

Prince Harry's friendship with the President and First Lady is one built on shared experience and support. Having tragically lost his wife, young daughter and later his son, Biden is all too familiar with the agony of grief. He regularly talks of his personal sorrows as a way to connect with others in pain.

The Bidens' late son, Beau, was an active member of the military and like Harry, he too was deployed to a warzone. A National Guard family, the Bidens have been advocates of the Invictus Games and they've consistently shown their appreciation for veterans whose sacrifices have helped keep the nation safe.

Committed as both parties are to fulfilling public service, their mutual respect should be echoed and admired. Even so, had the Bidens opted to install large scale images of public figures to mark the inauguration, they rightly would have plumped for prominent Americans and not as some intimated their good friend, Prince Harry.

The issue, of course, is a vast hypothetical, but it illustrates the need for a healthy dose of common sense before hitting 'tweet'. Instead of jumping on a bandwagon in which misinformation reigns, it's worth reviewing the objective before being a conduit to bitter arguments and hate.

Jill Biden and Prince Harry attend the wheelchair basketball final on day 8 of the Invictus Games Toronto in 2017.

Harry's friendship with the Bidens is one built on shared experience and support. ((Photo by Samir Hussein/Samir Hussein/WireImage)

Where Twitter used to be littered with cat videos and witty hot takes, it's since descended into a cesspit of rage. Yet, as the inauguration of the 46th president of the United States got underway there was, for a moment, a small glimmer of hope.

As hilarious memes featuring a mitten-clad Bernie Sanders quickly gained steam, so too evolved a collective sense of camaraderie and joy. Positive commentary fueled by an abundance of goodwill created a feeling of unity sorely lacking in years: Kamala Harris was lauded, Michelle Obama hailed and after her jaw-dropping performance, Amanda Gorman was lavished with praise. Granted the enthusiasm didn't extend to all, but still negativity was largely overruled, proving it's possible to engage in civil discourse even when certain groups vehemently disagree.

Despite its many drawbacks, social media's here to stay, but when used constructively there's tremendous potential for good. In order for it to provide a safe forum, however, it's imperative seismic changes are made. Harry's not, as some have attested, calling for censure, nor an end to free speech. He's using his platform to push for reform. While he undoubtedly has a significant battle on his hands, should he be successful the resulting impact could be huge.

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle pictured in 2018.

Harry declared in a recent interview: "What happens online does not stay online – it spreads everywhere, like wildfire." (AP)

"It's a false choice to say you have to pick between free speech or a more compassionate and trustworthy digital world," he said. "They are not mutually exclusive… there can be disagreement, conversation, opposing points of view – as there should be, but never to the extent that violence is created, truth is mystified, and lives are jeopardised."

Put more simply, perhaps we could all subscribe to the wise words of Rumi, the 13th-century poet and theologian, who once said, "Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates. At the first gate, ask yourself, 'Is it true?' At the second gate ask, 'Is it necessary?' At the third gate ask, 'Is it kind?'"

A simple philosophy it may be, but it's one as potent today as it was centuries ago.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

January 18, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

The Trump administration is winding down as Joe Biden and Kamala Harris prepare to take office on Wednesday.

Trump will leave office with an approval rating of 34%, dismal by any measure. He is the first president since Gallup began polling never to break 50% approval. After the attack on the Capitol on January 6, the House of Representatives impeached him for a second time, and a majority of Americans think he should have been removed from office.

In the last days of his term, the area of Washington, D.C., around our government buildings has been locked down to guard against further terrorism. Our tradition of a peaceful transition of power, established in 1800, has been broken. There is a 7-foot black fence around the Capitol and 15,000 National Guard soldiers on duty in a bitterly cold Washington January. There are checkpoints and road closures near the center of the city, and 10,000 more troops are authorized if necessary. Another 4,000 are on duty in their states, protecting key buildings and infrastructure sites.

In the past two days, there have been more indications that members of the Trump administration were behind the January 6 coup attempt. Yesterday, Richard Lardner and Michelle R. Smith of the Associated Press broke the story that, far from being a grassroots rally, the event of January 6 that led to the storming of the Capitol was organized and staffed by members of Trump’s presidential campaign team. These staffers have since tried to distance themselves from it, deleting their social media accounts and refusing to answer questions from reporters.

A number of the arrested insurrectionists have claimed that they were storming the Capitol because the president told them to. According to lawyers Teri Kanefield and Mark Reichel, writing in the Washington Post, this is known as the “public authority” defense, meaning that if someone in authority tells you it’s okay to break a law, that advice is a defense when you are arrested. It doesn’t mean you won’t be punished, but it is a defense. It also means that the person offering you that instruction is more likely to be prosecuted.

The second impeachment, popular outcry, and continuing stories about the likely involvement of administration figures in the coup attempt seem to have trimmed Trump’s wings in his last days in office. He is issuing orders that Biden vows to overturn, and contemplating pardons (stories say those around him are selling access to him to advocate for those pardons), but otherwise today was quiet.

He has tried to install a loyalist as the top lawyer at the National Security Agency, either to burrow him in or to get the green light for dumping NSA documents before he leaves office; Biden’s team will fight what is clearly an attempt to politicize the position. Tonight, Census Director Steven Dillingham resigned after whistleblowers alleged that he and other political appointees were putting pressure on department staffers to issue a hasty and unresearched report on undocumented immigrants.

According to news reports, Trump is planning to leave Washington on the morning of January 20 and should be at his Florida club Mar-a-Lago by the time Biden and Harris are sworn in. The last president to miss a successor’s inauguration was Andrew Johnson, who in 1869 refused to attend Ulysses S. Grant’s swearing-in, and instead spent the morning signing last-minute bills to put in place before Grant took office.

There is a lot of chatter tonight about the release today of the 1776 Report guidelines on American history. This is the administration’s reply to the 1619 Project from the New York Times, which focused on America’s history of racism. As historian Torsten Kathke noted on Twitter, none of the people involved in compiling today’s 41-page document are actually historians. They are political scientists and Republican operatives who have produced a full-throated attack on progressives in American history as well as a whitewashed celebration of the U.S.A. Made up of astonishingly bad history, this document will not stand as anything other than an artifact of Trump’s hatred of today’s progressives and his desperate attempt to wrench American history into the mythology he and his supporters promote so fervently.

But aside from the bad history, the report is a fascinating window into the mindset of this administration and its supporters. In it, the United States of America has been pretty gosh darned wonderful since the beginning, and has remained curiously static. “[T]he American people have ever pursued freedom and justice,” it reads, and while “neither America nor any other nation has perfectly lived up to the universal truths of equality, liberty, justice, and government by consent,” “no nation… has strived harder, or done more, to achieve them.”

America seems to have sprung up in 1776 in a form that was fine and finished. But, according to the document’s authors, trouble began in the 1890s, when “progressives” demanded that the Constitution “should constantly evolve to secure evolving rights.” It was at that moment the teaching of history took a dark turn.

The view that America was born whole, has stayed the same, and is simply a prize worth possessing reminds me of so much of the world of Trump and the people around him, characterized by acquisition: buildings, planes, yachts, clothing, bank accounts. Trump and his people seem to see the world as a zero-sum game in which the winners have the most stuff, and America is just one more thing to possess.

But there is a big difference in this world between having and doing.

America has never fully embodied equality, liberty, and justice. What it has always had was a dream of justice and equality before the law. The 1776 Report authors are right to note that was an astonishing dream in 1776, and it made this country a beacon of radical hope. It was enough to inspire people from all walks of life to try to make that dream a reality. They didn’t have an ideal America; they worked to make one.

The hard work of doing is rarely the stuff of heroic biographies of leading men. It is the story of ordinary Americans who were finally pushed far enough that they put themselves on the line for this nation’s principles.

It is the story, for example, of abolitionist newspaperman Elijah P. Lovejoy, murdered by a pro-slavery mob in 1837, and the U.S. soldiers who twenty-four years later fought to protect the government against a pro-slavery insurrection designed to destroy it. It is the story of Lakota leader Red Cloud, who negotiated with hostile government leaders on behalf of his people, and of his contemporary Booker T. Washington, who tried to find a way for Black people to rise in the heart of the South in a time of widespread lynching. It is the story of Nebraska politician William Jennings Bryan, who gave voice to suffering farmers and workers in the 1890s, and of Frances Perkins, who carried his ideas forward as FDR’s Secretary of Labor and brought us Social Security. It is the story of the American G.I.s, from all races, ethnicities, genders, and walks of life who fought in WWII. It is the story of labor organizer Dolores Huerta, co-founder of the National Farmworkers Association, and Fannie Lou Hamer, who faced down men bent on murdering her and became an advocate for Black voting. It is the story of President Dwight D. Eisenhower, who 60 years ago this week warned us against the “military-industrial complex.”

And it is, of course, the story of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., whose life we celebrate today. King challenged white politicians to take on poverty as well as racism to make the promise of America come true for all of us. “Some forty million of our brothers and sisters are poverty stricken, unable to gain the basic necessities of life,” he reminded white leaders in May 1967. “And so often we allow them to become invisible because our society’s so affluent that we don’t see the poor. Some of them are Mexican Americans. Some of them are Indians. Some are Puerto Ricans. Some are Appalachian whites. The vast majority are Negroes in proportion to their size in the population…. Now there is nothing new about poverty. It’s been with us for years and centuries. What is new at this point though, is that we now have the resources, we now have the skills, we now have the techniques to get rid of poverty. And the question is whether our nation has the will….” Just eleven months later, a white supremacist murdered Dr. King.

These people did not have a perfect nation, they worked to build one. They embraced America so fully they tried to bring its principles to life, sometimes at the cost of their own. Rather than simply trying to own America, the doers put skin in the game.

Today, the Trump administration issued the 1776 Report that presented the United States of America as a prize to be possessed. And yet, the country is demonstrably still in the process of being created: tonight, there are 15,000 soldiers in the cold in Washington, D.C., defending the seat of our government against insurgents.

—-

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Two Gods, One Braincell Ch.3 Heavenly Bonds

Summary:

Bold of you to assume my friends and I won't smite you.

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

Kagami blasted another group of demons with a bolt of lightning. Zooming higher into the air she saw Adrien's wall of green flames blocking off the exit into the lower valley. Where the mortals' village lay exposed.

Adrien himself was a speck in the distance. Only her dragon eyes could pick him out. With a sweep of her tail she sent a gust of wind towards two demon archers. Making them tumble off the cliff they aimed from.

A growl escaped Kagami's throat. Where were the protectors? Surely a horde of this size would warrant-

Suddenly, a glowing green hexagon appeared directly in Kagami's path. Forcing her to turn sharply. In the next instant a red fireball crashed against the other side of it.

"Hey there, goddess! Long time no see!"

Blinking in surprise, Kagami saw a god standing on a smaller hexagon than the one that had protected her. He wore green, shell-like armor and carried a shield. Short, dark brown hair contrasted the golden glow of his eyes.

"You're late," Kagami scolded Nino.

"I got held up!"

Setting a stance like a javelin thrower Nino formed another hexagon and launched it into the trees below. There was a demonic yelp and then a new tree popped out of the canopy.

"Well, that takes care of that fire-breathing jerk." Nino dusted his hands. "So ungodly."

"There are significant enemy forces," Kagami pointed out. "I suggest you summon backup."

A teasing smile spread across Nino's face. "Oh? The great Kagami calling for reinforcements?"

Not for the first time Kagami was grateful dragons couldn't blush. She was nine tenths sure he was thinking about all the times she rushed in without a plan. "We could always let Adrien handle it."

A dreamy look clouded Nino's features. "Mm, I haven't seen my god let loose since he punched that demon king in the face last millennium..." Shaking his head, Nino slapped both cheeks lightly. "N-nope! This mountain range is supposed to stay a mountain range for the next hundred thousand years. There is no crater scheduled anytime soon!"

"Then you better hurry up!" Kagami called over her shoulder as she zeroed in on another batch of demons.

"Goddess is still so impatient." Nino shook his head fondly as he pulled out a bright red strand of hair. "Monkey King, I summon you. Lend me your aid!"

Nino blew it in Kagami's direction, glowing as it went.

Deciding that she didn't want to start a forest fire with her lightning -she didn't have control over flames like Adrien did- Kagami shifted. Instead of her usual kimono she wore armor of a different style than that of Marinette and Nino.

Concentrating, Kagami pulled out her sword. A tsurugi forged from her mother's own fang, instilled with Tomoe's unyielding nature. With a single swing there was nothing left of her target but ash and the smell of lightning.

"You get to be a monkey! And you get to be a monkey!"

The god jumped from one opponent's head to another. Whacking them with his ruyi jingu bang, which was indeed turning them into monkeys. He wore only pants and a golden circlet as a crown. Brown fur accented his muscular body in contrast to the fiery hair atop his head.

"Kagami!" Kim exclaimed, just noticing she was there. His tail wrapped around the sword arm of his current mount and made it punch its owner repeatedly in the face. "Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Heard you got in trouble with the council! Ha ha! Nice!"

"Kim," she greeted. Kagami didn't know if he was praising or teasing her, likely both. Such was the friendship of a trickster deity. "Didn't you mess with one of Alix's prophecies again?"

"Yeah! It was great!" Kim leapt straight into the air just as his mount's allies reached him. Weapons clashing in the space he just vacated. Swinging his staff in a circle as he fell Kim turned all of them into monkeys at once. "She was so mad!"

Flipping through the air, Kim got a gleam in his eye. "Say. How 'bout we pick up where we left off?"

Casually dusting the demon sneaking up behind her Kagami felt a grin forming. "Whoever gets the most enemies wins?"

"You know it!"

Quickly dispatching the remaining demons in their immediate area they split up. Kim calling a cloud to carry him and Kagami shifting back into her dragon form.

Scanning for more enemies, Kagami did a double take as she saw a fire-breathing dragon with leathery wings chasing a horde of demons. Her ears twitched as they detected the faint tones of a flute. So, it's her is it?

Locating the source of the music was child's play. Kagami silently shifted behind the goddess as she was preoccupied with her illusion.

Nine tails denoted the fox's age. She wore an orange coat of fur which Kagami knew was actually the goddess's own fur. Dark hair flowed down her back, the ends fading to the same shade as her tails. A flute half as tall as its owner shaped her spell.

"Really, Alya?" Kagami demanded. "A western dragon?"

Alya jerked in surprise. "My gods, Kagami! Don't scare me like that! Oh, hells." She hurriedly played a tune so her illusory dragon wouldn't disappear.

"You could've chosen anything else but no. You had to choose a western dragon." The nerve, the betrayal!

"Aw, c'mon goddess. Y'know dragons are terrifying!"

"Flattery will not appease the storm of my anger!"

Rolling her eyes Alya placed her arm on Kagami's shoulders. "Listen, I know you don't like the drakes-"

"Selfish, smug little horders think their nonsense riddles are so clever. Most of them cannot even speak!" Like her mother always said: An eastern dragon's wisdom was divine! You'd be lucky if a western dragon didn't eat you after waking up from a centuries long food coma.

"Right, right. But in my defense they're perfect for instilling panic into large groups." Alya waved at the fleeing demons to illustrate her point.

"... Your technique does appear to be effective," Kagami admitted reluctantly.

Sensing an opening Alya pounced on it. "Besides, you're always saying how we should never give less than our best. I'm just using my talents to their fullest."

Kagami knew Alya was appealing to her sense of pride. As a fox, Alya knew how to be sneaky. In more ways than one. Still... "I suppose I cannot fault you for that."

Nine tails twitching in excitement ruined Alya's air of nonchalance. "Goddess, I knew you'd see it my way!"

"No doubt." Kagami pointed toward an outcrop of stone. "Direct the enemy there."

Alya grinned. "You got it, goddess."

Working together they cleared the area and joined the others. Kagami was only mildly surprised to see Nino had summoned Marinette. She was, after all, a fellow war goddess.

"No fair!" Kim cried out, absently bashing his opponent. "You had help!"

"There's plenty for everyone, Kim!" Marinette's yo-yo cut like a razor. Demons bursting into pink sparkles whenever they got too close.

"You go, goddess!" Alya struck enemies with her flute, turning them into foxtails.

Nino mostly sent shields to block fireballs and arrows. Expertly directing his hexagons. But he was also distracted by a certain god.

Adrien moved with feline grace. A longsword wreathed in shadows cutting down every demon in his path. Instead of his usual robes he wore black armor with glowing green designs on it. Two cat-like eyes stared from his breastplate in imitation of the ones in his head. A sharp toothed grin spread across his face.

In short he was gorgeous. And she wasn't the only one to think so.

"Stupid deity of destruction," Nino muttered. "Why's the god gotta be so beautiful?"

Kagami nodded appreciatively. "Half the time he's using that innocent face to get what he wants. The other half he doesn't even realize how attractive he is."

"I know!"

"You think that's bad?" Alya shoved a demon onto Kagami's sword. "My goddess has literally weaponized cuteness!"

Pausing, both Kagami and Nino looked at each other. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility for a creation goddess.

Placing a circular barrier around them, Nino voiced their thoughts. "Uh, babe? She hasn't actually-"

"No, I was exaggerating!" Alya played a short tune that blinded their opponents with bright light. "But Marinette keeps her hair down all the time now!"

There was a collective chorus of sympathy.

"It suits her."

"I noticed, yeah."

"Was thinking about it this morning."

The other three stared at Kim.

"What? Marinette gives the best hair advice." Kim ran a hand through his fiery red hair. "This doesn't just happen."

"He's right you know." Adrien spun his weapon in a circle, clearing the ground around him, before tossing his hair. Golden locks falling perfectly back in place. He grinned and Kagami was sure his face glowed like a sun god. "Marinette does give the best hair advice."

Then he charged back into the fray. Green flames spread from his feet, burning nothing but the demons and their weapons. The unrestrained joy of a destroyer performing his sacred duty radiated from Adrien in waves.

"... I'm gonna kill him," Nino declared.

"Babe, no."

"My best friend is trying to kill me, Alya! Ever since I admitted he was aesthetically appealing! It only makes sense that I get to him before he finishes me off!"

Alya placed both hands on Nino's shoulders. "First of all? That's an exaggeration. Second, you know he just wants to be appreciated. Destroyers get the short straw when it comes to the mortals' worship."

Nino sighed. "I know, I know."

"Plus, like, if he wanted you dead not even Marinette would be able to stop him," Kim pointed out.

Again, the other three stared at him.

"What!? What'd I say!?"

"Let's just get back to the battle," Alya suggested, ignoring Kim.

"What? Oh, yeah, nope. Battle's over," Marinette informed them, suddenly appearing in their path.

"Come again?" Kagami scanned the valley and sure enough there wasn't a demon in sight.

"Aw, it's over already?" Kim slumped his shoulders before straightening suddenly. A grin forming. "Guess that means I won."

"Don't be absurd. I obviously got more than you," Kagami corrected.

"Yeah, god," Nino agreed, serving as unofficial referee like he usually did. "Kagami totally trounced you."

"Pfft, okay, sure. But I'll get the next one!" With that eloquent rebuttal Kim cupped his hands next to his mouth and hollered. "Alright, you wannabes! Where you at! It's time to go!"

A monkey screeched what Kagami assumed to be obscenities from the safety of the forest.

"Do you wanna be weeds? 'Cause you can definitely still be weeds!" Kim strode purposefully to collect his new subjects.

"Foxtail is not a weed!" Alya yelled after him

Leaning in, Kagami whispered. "Isn't it a weed, though?"

Mimicking her stance, Nino answered. "I think that's besides the point."

"What're we whispering about?" Adrien asked.

"Adrien!" Nino glomped him. Prompting the pair of them to fall over.

A laugh escaping with Adrien's breath. "Nino!"

"Are you trying to murder me? Because it feels like you're trying to murder me!"

Adrien patted his best friend's head. "There, there."

They continued in that vein a while longer. Kagami wasn't sure friendship was a strong enough word for what Adrien felt for Nino. Then again, the others insisted there was nothing more important to Adrien than his friends. Hmm.

Once the gods stood back up, letting Adrien greet Alya properly. (Why platonic kisses? Just why?) Kagami guided Nino a little ways from everyone else.

"What did I do? I swear it was an accident!"

"What? Nino, I am not mad!"

"Oh, thank creation!" Nino placed a hand on his chest as he let out the breath he'd been holding.

Kagami raised an eyebrow. "Did you really think I was upset?"

"Well, geez, what's a god to think when you put on your None-Shall-Stand-Before-Me face?"

"There's a face?"

"Yes, there's a face!" Nino squeaked in disbelief. "It shows up whenever you get an idea and won't let anyone talk you out of it!"

Kagami pressed her lips together in an effort to mask her amusement.

From Nino's deadpan look she wasn't very successful. "Out with it then, goddess. I get enough embarrassment from Adrien and Alya."

Right! "I was wondering if the relationship between you and Adrien is in any way romantically inclined."

Nino coughed. "What now?"

"I want to confess my love to Adrien," Kagami simplified, giving Nino an annoyed look. "Do you have dibs?"

Blinking several times as his mind shifted gears a grin started forming on Nino's face. "Oh, yes!"

"You have romantic feelings for him?"

"I mean no! I mean-" Nino took a deep breath. "Adrien is just the platonic love of my life- Wait, no, that's not it. There are no coupley feelings between Adrien and me!"

Kagami's lips quirked upwards. "I can see why Alya enjoys your company."

"You can keep teasing me or you can go confess to Adrien!"

"An excellent point." Turning on her heel Kagami strode toward the gaggle of gods. Eyes set on a certain destructive cat.

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

I'm late, I'm late, I'm late! @kagamiappreciationweek2020

... I feel like I should point out that I never promised a "Plot" or anything. I promised shenanigans and shenanigans only. Any "Plot" that manages to sneak in is purely coincidental.

Tumblr: Making your own slang in fantasy settings has to be done well, otherwise it comes across weird.

Me: You make a good point! *proceeds to do it anyway*

[ianworthy]

Israel vs Palestine

What is really happening? And the bloody solution…

First off, I'm from a small town on the other side of the planet so I don't have any kind of agenda.  If you want that B.S. there's lots of options.  I realized more than ever over the last year that we are being lied to and manipulated on the daily, which led me down many rabbit holes. I've been "re-educating" myself and started writing in an effort to make some sense of the craziness.

History made shorter…

We should start around when the Ottoman Empire ended for some context, which was in the early 1920s in case you slept through History.  If you rely on the ‘news’ you'd think this started a couple of weeks ago.  Reality, if you go back far enough no one "owned" anyone, nor the land they occupied or any of the land you’re on right now. Humanity and its entire existence has involved one tribe/country trying to annihilate the other.   It never works out, but here we are 200000 years later, give or take 194000 years, depending on whether your belief in Science transcends beyond vaccines and masks.  In case you didn't catch that I’m referring to the 6000 year timeline outlined in the Bible.  Breaking this down to the core revolves around religion used to create unnecessary animosity, so a relatively small proportion of a population can benefit.  Isn't that every war ever?

After the Ottoman collapse, the land that's in dispute aka Israel and Palestine was given to the British.  Interesting fact, if you look at all the atrocities and wars currently going on in the world, they are all countries that were "occupied" some way or another by the British or to a lesser extent, the French.  Aren't we all curious for Harry's hot take on how he's the product of ruthless colonization of his great grandparents that its impact on global society is ever present? These former colonies are humanitarian disasters enslaved by whichever military coup at the time provides corporations with the most resources.  But hey, as long as the Old B of England got the right biscuits to accompany her afternoon Tea that's all that matters, right?        

When the British, or most powerful Army at the time called the shots, there was a movement referred to as Zionism that began to gain support from the Jewish people throughout Europe.  Zionism basically means the nationalist movement to create a state for the Jews, not the jam by Damien Marley, which is my first exposure to the word Zion.  I'm sure this rise was foreshadowing of what was to come.  Not to get all conspiracy theory on you but none other than the Rothschilds (wealthiest family in history that created the global money supply that are apparently no longer wealthy) created a proposal that involved divvying up the land for a state in the future, which was after the war.  Google the ‘Balfour Declaration’ if you don't believe me.  From that point the amount of land occupied by the Palestinians has steadily decreased, according to the last map I checked it was looking pretty bleak.  The land was divided not because they are physiologically different but because one group of parents parents parents were raised to believe in Abraham and the other a linkage to Abraham.

Up to the current point… 

I'm sure that Jared Kusher's involvement in recognizing Jerusalem as the capital of Israel and the Trump peace plan of supplying the middle east with more missiles played a supporting role, but more current, Ramadan.  The Israelis like all of the World Leaders during the last year have been flexing too much during the lockdowns of COVID, which carried over to yet another Ramadan and evicted some families for further settlements.  In addition to the evictions the Israelis broke up a Mosque gathering on Eid, Antifa style.  Eid for Muslims is like Christmas for Christians, but instead of getting toys and gifts from Jesus swap, Santa Claus, you get to eat during daylight after a month of starving yourself.  This Mosque is Islam's third holiest site, conveniently Jerusalem is Judaism and Christianity holiest site as well, coincidence?  To relate, for Christians, if Jerusalem is the holiest, and the Vatican is the Second then probably a Church like Notre Dame would be third, or up there at least.  I feel that the MSM coverage of the Notre Dame burning was little different than the burning of the Al-Aqsa Mosque. 

In retaliation to the Israeli raids, Hamas, the awful military leadership of Palestine launched missiles that had no real threat of reaching their target, being shot down half way by the Rafael Advanced Defense System (Iron Dome) that the US taxpayer supplied batteries for under Obama.  In response to a “potential” desert storm attack from Palestine a bunch of USA made Lockheed Martin F-16s equipped with M61 Vulcans and Raytheon AIM-9 Sidewinder heat-seeking missiles launched an Airstrike killing a bunch of innocent civilians, including kids.  According to the death toll I just looked at, it was 241 dead Palestinians, including 5 top Hamas commanders, the media and a bunch of kids to 12 Israelis, no executives, consultants, shareholders or politicians were killed.               

The Solution Is…

Two solid states, and no longer decreasing the amount of land occupied by the Palestinians and increasing of Jewish settlements.  Palestinians and Jews both have the right to a home.  With the help of the greedy boomers (worst leadership class in history) and the media making the next couple of generations hate each other, the rift is super deep.  Every war is sustained by the industrial military complex.  Lockheed Martin Raptors or Raytheon Heat Seeking Missiles do not magically appear in the Israeli Air Force.  The corporations that run the United States are in the business of making money at all costs, in this case innocent lives mostly Palestinians.  Humans need to stop providing the means to commit such acts of horror.     

It also seems pretty convenient that Benjamin Netanyahu was recently unable to form a new government and is facing criminal corruption charges.  Party leaders are always guilty of something, it’s just a matter of if they follow the most profitable line or not.  He's obviously not the right person to run Israel, taking it in the extreme right position that’s trendy right now in politics.  Extreme either way is no solution to anything, and the sooner Netanyahu goes the better.  His father was an Ivy League Professor active in the Zionist movement, who's father was also a Zionists.  Point here is people that grow up entitled with an unwavering ideology and no life experience make for horrible leaders.  That applies to a lot of world "leaders", even the countries that don't have nonsensical inbred Royals in charge.  Any peaceful long-term resolution involves leadership that recognizes that Jews and Palestinians have a right to a home.  There also needs to be more fair coverage.  I guess it doesn't help that the people running Sony Pictures, Twentieth Century Fox, Lionsgate, Universal, NBC, The New York Times, The Tribune, Discovery, CNN, Google and Facebook are all Jewish.  In Palestine, the Israeli Air Force blew up one of the main media buildings that housed Al Jazeera News and the Associated Press.  No press or opinion vs all the colluding press and opinions. 

As for Hamas, or any of these military coups that emerge are the result of instability and no leadership for its people, present more of a challenge.  Israel can and hopefully soon, will function just fine with new leadership.  My entire adult life, the Industrial Military Complex has been at war with the Middle East.  The defense contractors that have been defending America from an “evasion” always seem to find some action. It's purely about Oil(Money) and strategic power, but we can leave that for another time. From the West perspective Hamas is a terrorist organization, which they are, but if you're living in Palestine having dinner with your family and a Raytheon heat seeker comes through the window and blows up your family into pieces. Wouldn’t that be a terrorist act? In order to have any kind of sustainable solutions the counties and corporations that pillage these places killing innocent people need to find a way to structure these de facto coups into a legit military that can serve as a National Army. At the end of the day these kids are just fighting for what they think or are forced to think is right. Given the option, and right identity, kids can redirect their frustration and hatred towards a national unity that respects and values its citizens. Not that I have much faith in non-secular rule, but I think as a starting point a country that can be run more or less by its people is better than this apartheid situation that’s going on now.

The ceasefire has been called, which is the necessary short-term solution, however not going to change much going forward.  This game is being played with a zero-sum, and I think that they were premeditated targets that were going to be fired at some point in the future regardless of what the spark was. My position at the end of the day is that a handful of countries produce all the weapons used to blow everyone up, so it should start at the source and those who benefit the most.  Which obviously isn't the everyday people of Palestine or Israel. The upside, with the media fighting for relevance the corporate narrative is being challenged.  We just haven't figured out the right way. I have some thoughts, subscribe or follow please.

[barbika1508]

Hiwaga (Vampire! Jeongguk x Reader)

Part 2

Words: 11,2k

Genre: Soulmate AU, Reincarnation AU, Enemies to Lovers, Action, Romance, Smut, Flufffffff

Pairing: Vampire! Jeongguk x Reader

Warnings: More cursing, Nightmares

Summary: Life was good, playing out better than it has been ever before. My future was bright and full of promises and wishes coming to realization. All up until she showed up. She stormed though the front doors ruining everything along the way by her mere presence derailing my goals and purpose in life. A puny mortal, a child, a complete nuisance, and yet…The key to an unimaginable life, to the truth all along.

Author's note: Hiwaga – mystery; full of wonder Words in italics are dialogues or thoughts that Jeongguk reads from others. So I’ve done research with this fic, and used certain words that need explanation…given that there can be A LOT I’ve put a dictionary just below the fic if anyone is interested :3

Jeongguk’s POV:

‘’YOONGIIIIII-YAAAHHH!!!’’ comes the call not really disrupting others, but it does pull the gained momentum to a full stop, everyone now straightening up, eyes and heads turned towards the entrance. We all observe as the owner of that annoying voice comes in sight, dressed in none other than Yoongi hyungs favourite red hoodie that he mostly lounges around in.

‘’I’ve figure it out!’’ she continues on oblivious to the others stopping because of her. Our elder simply smiles and turns his attention completely onto her, as she offers up a thick book that at first glance leaves me wondering how she was able to pick it up. Frankly if you look at her you wouldn’t assume that she’d be able to lift much.

He simply hums in acknowledgement, eyes scanning the page his smile gradually fading. Namjoon appears at the doorframe a moment later, the girl not jumping or flinching at his sudden presence like most humans would normally react to. Wordlessly she accepts a notebook from him, her own eyes darting left and right a frown drawing itself across her features. Hmmm she’s kind of cute…

‘’What’s going on?’’ Taehyung asks frowning as he shifts the spear he’s using to train, between his hands. We’re all dressed the same, in black tank tops and grey sweatpants most of us barefoot too. We came to the fully equipped gym which we’ve transformed into an arena its purpose clear – practice martial arts and combat between another. Hyung had just started teaching us new techniques honestly surprising us all as he joined in from the beginning.

We don’t necessarily need the fitness or practice – nobody even broke a sweat in the last hour we’ve been training – but the impending tension that has settled after the ball two nights ago, doesn’t seem to loosen up so this is the best next thing to relieve some form of built up frustration. Even though neither Yoongi nor Jin hyung revealed anything yet, both of them are hiding their emotions back but everyone just knows that something is happening. Fighting is a temporary distraction.

Most vampires don’t actually need to fight or simply never learn how to because they rely solemnly on their powers or abilities. And half of us could lean onto using our powers, but Yoongi made sure we had a good solid base of self-defence before he had us train our abilities. For example, his power is scary and rare and doesn’t require of him to ever lift a finger whilst fighting. Others had to learn the hard way how to control their powers. That includes myself – mentality and people’s minds are tricky.

‘’Research.’’ Its Namjoon that replies handing over a regular pencil that he usually sticks behind his ear whenever he’s working on something in the library where he has been spending a lot of time lately again at. The human accepts it, and is quick to start and scribble something over a page. Being the only one left out of this round I approach them first, eyeing Yoongi for a moment further his eyes darting over to Namjoon.

‘’This is bothersome.’’ He comments offering the book to Namjoon who accepts it nodding silently. The girl curses out of the blue, the swear words that spill from her mouth unfamiliar to my ear, and judging by other hyung’s faces they are stumped too. Some curses don’t even sound like words, but once she shuts up and looks at the platinum blonde elder, she looks beyond annoyed while he burst into chuckles shaking his head ‘’Yah, Y/N-ah there are kids here.’’ He teases back the occurrence and light-heartedness that he shows to her still unfamiliar. He must be the only one who understood whatever came from her mouth.

I spare a glance at Seokjin who is shaking his head, two fingers pressed against the inner of his eyes. Okay he understood her to, but to what degree I’m not sure.

‘’Aish.’’ She intakes a breath ready to smack Yoongi with the notebook but refrains from doing so, her eyes darting over to us. Maybe it’s just my imagination but I get a feeling as if they linger on me for a moment longer ‘’Not funny. They called me a child.’’ She ends up pouting and showing her notebook over to Yoongi. Glancing at Namjoon he’s awkwardly smiling, eyes averted down onto the thick book ‘’And other things I don’t need to translate.’’ Grumbling she adds looking upset as she glares at him unamused. Everyone offers soft chuckles in return finally relaxing more as they step closer.

Hyung’s arm rises wrapping around her shoulders reassuringly ‘’Well that was the plan was it not?’’

My eyes dart over to Tae and Jimin, exchanging looks between both of them in question and sort of answer at the revelation ‘’Yeh.’’ Her reply is curt arms crossed over while she turns her eyes towards Namjoon ‘’We’re close to figuring it out. Its trickier than I thought. Haven’t practiced Gaya in so long…Kaya…aish even my pronunciation is completely off.’’ She signs looking exasperated.

‘’Wait…’’ Hoseok starts tensing up taking barely half a step towards her in the uneven circle we’ve created ‘’Kaya as in the language? Karak? Like 5th century, dead long and forgotten language?!’’ he looks at them in complete disbelief mouth hanging ajar. He’s almost on his toes. I immediately look at the human, that nods fingers tapping against the page of her notebook impatiently or out of nerves.

‘’That one yes. Why? Do you know it???’’ her eyes sparkle for a moment, but hyung is quick to turn his head away and raise his hands in defeat.

‘’That’s way before my time.’’ he mumbles pouting. I watch as Y/N enthusiasm diminishes instantly. She sighs heavily looking at Yoongi who’s already staring back at her.

‘’Aigo.’’ She complains pouting ‘’It’s all on us then buddy.’’ She adds on offering Namjoon a soft smile. I can see her disappointment clearly in the way her shoulders lower sag. I narrow my eyes as I watch her, not really comprehending that there’s a chance that she actually knows a dead language. The name of it or the know how about it. She barely speaks proper Korean!!!!! And to know of a pre-Korean language makes zero logic!!!

‘’Uh huh. I’m sure we can handle it. Easy.’’ Namjoon replies trying to sound positive but, we all know he’s putting up a front for her sake ‘’I’ll head into the city right away. Go to my usual places to snoop around for any fragments. There should be at least something somewhere.’’ And with that, and a silent confirmation from Jin and Yoongi, he bids us goodbye’s and heads out disappearing quickly as he appeared before.

‘’What are you even translating? Did that douche-ling make another cryptic speech?’’ Jimin asks looking annoyed, tapping both fingers against the handles of his dual swords which are resting against the ground. Y/N instead of quickly replying looks over at Yoongi, who takes her notebook and closes it. Is she waiting for permission or is she actually being respectful for once?!?

‘’In the beginning yeah, he bounced with Karak but then switched to Latin mid-way.’’ Yoongi snorts smirking but there’s no amusement to his words ‘’Y/N-ah already translated his official scripts and the other speech, and the propositions he gave us.’’

‘’Lots of politics involved.’’ Jin confirms looking lost in thought, holding his head propped up with one hand, the other remaining crossed across his chest.

‘’There’s something else isn’t there.’’ I pick up on the lack of explanation staring straight at the human. Her lips go into a tight line eyes averting looking anywhere else, while she shifts her feet in line with her shoulders, stance defensive with her centre balanced. That much I can read out once her shoulders square up, and her leg muscles clench and unclench. Why is she wearing a hoodie and shorts again?!? Her bare legs look very nicely defined, I never noticed it.

‘’I wrote down notes of the conversation that Wangseja had with his advisor.’’ Everyone takes a double take at her disclosure clearly none of us expecting something like this of her. Maybe she isn’t a clueless bimbo after all.

‘’That still wouldn’t fully explain the usage of Karak.’’ Hoseok speaks up thoughtful ‘’Do you think them speaking out loud was deliberate or simply a foolish error?’’

He has a point there. It could be a trap, but Yoongi is quick to shake his head in denial arm now having shifted around Y/N, his hand placed on her hip ‘’I don’t think it’s either of those. It’s safe to assume for certain than none of you assumed that Y/N-ah here spoke more than 3 languages, let alone Karak in the mix right?’’ the other hyungs nod along eyeing her suspiciously, except for Jin that offers a smirk and Taehyung that seems to be revaluating his stance over her again ‘’Point made then.’’

That boulder in my stomach reappears again, as with prideful eyes Yoongi turns to look at her with a wider smile, while she shakes her head instead twirling the pen, he hasn’t confiscated from her. She’s shifting from one foot to another lulling side to side impatiently making him retreat his arm away.

This girl never seems to be able to stand still even for a second ‘’Yeah, yeah I’m more than meets the eye, bla, bla.’’ She shows her tongue at her supposedly life-term friend ‘’Never heard that one before.’’ she mocks, and slides the pen smoothly behind Hyung’s ear who doesn’t blink twice at her antics. Even more so as she reaches for his Geom that is sheathed on his left hip ‘’So instead of wracking our brains uselessly with the lack of information that we are stuck with, I would like to lay of some steam as well.’’ she draws out the double-edged sword, with poise, letting the handle go while she maintains the balance of it, flipping the sword around a single digit, capturing it successfully once it does a 360 turn.

She looks pleased upon capturing it, perking up and giving of an almost goofy smile. Oh no. Don’t tell me this is something else that she isn’t going to take seriously?

‘’You wanna play with us little mortal?’’ Jimin pips up looking enthusiastic and livelier all of the sudden. But he doesn’t slide forward and move closer to her like I know he would prefer to. It brings a smile to my face, the thought of him being so afraid of hyung that he doesn’t dare approach her in his presence all that much.

Looking at the girl, she’s preoccupied with hyung’s sword, trying to find the balance of it as she holds it by the handle horizontally keeping it steady. At his comment, she lets the sword fall but catches it before the tip can hit the ground.

‘’Jagi?’’ the nickname has everyone in the room freeze on spot. There are two reaction that she grants herself. Chuckles of amusement, that aren’t as quiet as the hyungs wants them to be – nobody in their sane mind would want to experience Yoongi’s wrath. Tae ends up ducking behind Hoseok as he’s the loudest, hence why the elders glare is instantaneous as he turns to glare at both giggling men.

Jin hyung straight up turns around hand covering his mouth, but his shoulders are shaking badly. Hoseok ends up grinning wider and starts too coo instead, teasing in between but mostly telling Y/N how adorable she is for some reason. Jimin settles for kneeling on the ground hands still holding into his own dual swords grin present over his features, eyes having disappeared from how much he finds this whole situation amusing.

I on the other hand hold back the bile that gathers in my stomach. Ew. Just no. Why? Seriously why. I cringe and listen to the way Yoongi is quick to defend her and not himself! He’s advocating for her, coming up with excuses as to why he is allowing her to use this nickname on him. Looking at her, she’s grinning widely clearly amused by the situation she has created.

I seriously feel sick to my stomach. It’s wrong it’s all just wrong. I seriously don’t like her. Just as I was starting to, I don’t anymore I really don’t. She’s way to cocky right now, acting as if she has hyung wrapped around her finger. He storms after our so called ‘dance line’ with the exception of me, as they start teasing the two louder and bolder. Unbothered she remains put just watching blurs go around, her eyes not able to pick up much on what’s going on as the chase begins.

If she wasn’t here – hyung would be chasing me too with the others. I let a few good comebacks die on my tongue knowing first-hand what it’s like to get silly punishment from Yoongi after badmouthing him or anyone else. Her mere presence right now is to put it in simple words; extinguishes my will to live. And yeah, I’ve been a vampire for almost 200 years but fuck does she weight me down. Is it because I can’t read her thoughts? I shift on my feet, dropping my arms from the crossed-up position I’ve had them. While my left hand reasts against my hip, I let my right rest over the handle of my own Geom. I’ve decided to build upon my skills with it, even though it’s not commonly used anymore, it’s still gives the thrill like no other.

That familiar itch raises in my throat slowly, prickling at it mostly. I think this type I haven’t felt since I’ve been freshly turned. But that was another story as my hunger for blood then was insatiable. When all I could think about was blood, and the constant pain that held me in its clutches. It’s starting to appear somewhat, but not necessarily for blood alone which is puzzling as to what’s happening to me.

‘’You look like you’re having fun.’’ I raise an eyebrow as I look down at her in surprise ‘’The whole brooding thing you’ve got going on right now, is a good strategy. I commend you on that dude.’’

‘’Strategy?’’ I ask bemused eyeing her carefully as she steps right next to me and turns to watch the chaos that’s still unfolding across us. Her approach is like – if you were sitting on the very edge of a couch, she’s the person that would sit right next to you. Can she get even more annoying than this?!

‘’Well yeah.’’ She starts and looks at me slightly losing the edge of confidence she has ‘’To avoid this mess that’s happening. Wasn’t that…’’ she trails off clearly doubting herself ‘’Never mind then.’’ she’s quick to look away, left hand reaching up to scratch at her cheek, but she keeps it there avoiding to look at me.

I can’t help but to smile at her behaviour. Is she blushing?!

Odd. Humans are weird. Narrowing my eyes as I continue watching her, I can’t help but to relax a bit. Her hair is a mess as always, falling over her shoulders, clearly uncombed or unattended. Not that she’s dirty, she smells fresh and like she bathed fairly recently that strawberry hint present underneath the artificial flavour of honey scented shampoo.

The hoodie is too big on her body as it’s too big for hyung himself but on her it easily reaches her mid tights. Having said that the branded shorts with white stripes at the side of her legs peek just from beneath the red hoodie. Otherwise her legs are exposed, and following the curves from her meaty thighs, down to her calves I can see she’s back at being restless her left foot tapping against the ground the rubber of her sneakers making faint noise against the wood of the ground.

Shouts raising has me turning up, ready to defend myself from blatantly staring at her or crudely said ogling her. To my rare luck Yoongi has both Jimin and Taehyung pinned down, clearly having fun as he fake scolds them. Hoseok has given up and is sitting on the ground, hands propping himself up as he’s leant backwards. Jin hasn’t even participated in whatever they have going on, and is sitting in the corner of the room, kneeling against the wall with his new pink coloured Samsung Z in his hands, typing furiously on it with a small smirk on his face.

‘’Hey do you know why did the scarecrow win an award?’’ Jin starts getting everyone’s attention eyes rising after he asks the question. He even glances towards us. And we all know what’s coming it’s clear as a single cloud on a clear sunny day ‘’Because he was outstanding in his field.’’

I roll my eyes instantly, biting onto my lower lip because it’s ridiculous. Jimin burst into laughter first, Hoseok and Tae groaning but ending up laughing more so because of Jimin that rolls away from Yoongi who has let go of both vampires and is staring at hyung with a scrunched-up expression.

‘’Seriously hyung?’’ he breathes shaking his head. But a smile is present.

I’m genuinely startled when Y/N places her hand on my shoulder, body trembling as she tries to keep her own giggles down, but is not having much success with it. I stare at her confused but slightly fascinated by the rosiness that covers her cheeks, and face. Her eyes crinkle as they shut, mouth twisted into a grin. Her hold on my shoulder is surprisingly firm, again in the back of my mind making me revaluate the estimate I put on her about her strength.

‘’You’re laughing at that?’’ I ask trying to sound unimpressed but fail at it completely as I smile all due to her own amusement, the joke not being that drop-dead-funny.

She shakes her head instead and let’s go of me taking a step to the side hand readjusting the hold on hyung’s Geom once more ‘’The delivery was A+.’’ she points out as she starts to calm down.

‘’Thank you, Y/N-ah! You see brats? Someone appreciates my jokes! It’s why from now on Y/N-ah is my favourite creature ever!!!’’ he shouts out acting bratty himself. Jimin and Tae are both on their feet making their way over to Jin, probably with the intention of convincing him that they are his favourite whatever.

‘’Gee thanks.’’ Y/N chuckles bringing my attention back to her ‘’Never been called someone’s favourite ‘creature’ but I’ll take it.’’ she ends up grinning happily as she turns to me, warmth still lingering on her cheeks. As well as over my shoulder where her hand was ‘’Anyways you wanna practice Sour boy?’’ I immediately frown at that nickname as does she scrunching up her nose adorably for a moment ‘’Sour creature?’’ she tries ending up chuckling to herself as she shift left and right, the calmness leaving her while her jumpiness coming back ‘’Can’t use Sour wolf those right are reserved obviously…’’ I tilt my head not having a clue what’s she’s referring to ‘’…sour…ah never mind.’’ Again, she’s shaking her head but isn’t hiding away. She twists the sword again putting her left foot forward balancing her centre first, hands and sword following suit ‘’So you wanna try going against me?’’

It’s a dare.

I want to burst into laughter already imagining 3 moves alone to disarm her in a blink of her eye. But hyung’s words in my head stop me from over reacting at the preposterous challenge that’s right in front of me.

Humour her Jeongguk-ah. It will do good for your patience.

Taking a hold of my own blade, I spare a glance over towards Yoongi first noticing that everyone is watching us. They are going to be entertained I’ll make sure I will…

In a blink of an eye and my own, as my reflexes are enhanced mind you – I find myself dumbfounded, as her sword flashes due to the light and clashes against my own, knocking it sideways proving that my hold on it wasn’t as tight as it should have been.

As I look down at her burning but non-glowing human eyes, she’s glaring at me with some sort of fire in her irises. Her hand is back on me, firmly holding onto the inside of my forearm, while her blade is angled in a seemingly awkward position right arm positioned over her left body twisted to the side. But the most important part is; the tip of her sword is located right under my chin. The body of the Geom is strategically positioned in a way that would block any stronger and direct attack from myself.

The cheers burst out of the blue interrupting the silence that happened due to her unexpected actions.

My tongue darts to my cheek as I snort and tilt my head narrowing my eyes at her, as she ends up smiling but look serious doing so. She ends up pulling her hand and sword back, rising it up in triumph.

‘’Lesson number one; always be ready for the unexpected.’’ Jin speaks up oddly enough giving me a more serious look.

I don’t even bother looking towards others, and focus on the girl before me that’s literally skipping on her spot 2 steps away from me. She wiggles her eyebrows at me, sword getting placed to rest against her shoulder angled at an around 80 degree ‘’Lesson 1000-something-something never lose focus.’’ She imitates Yoongi’s pattern of speech clearly making fun of him making me know that he trained her as well. Her head turns to the right to give him a look.

I twirl my Geom keeping in mind that even though I’m about to surprise her as she surprised me, I a voice screaming at me to keep my movements slow. It would be an easy defeat – like taking candy from a baby – if I use my regular speed and agility on her. She wouldn’t stand a chance.

As I raise my blade, she instantly blocks it spinning with elegance at the perfect time. While I’m holding the leather wrapped handle with both hands, she only uses one and efficiently blocks me, her blade only briefly losing a hold twitching backwards and then coming to a still.

‘’To rough?’’ I tease, as she grabs for the long handle with her left hand the pressure against my blade turning prominent. Fuck. I didn’t expect in the slightest that she would be even able to push against me. But that’s maybe because I didn’t focus on taking a hold of my Geom in a proper way like I should have. I underestimated her.

She doesn’t reply initially, but offers a smirk jaw locked tight. To my astonishment she unpredictably steps back, and raises her Geom ready to strike down, which I block successfully intercepting her attacks from the get go. The fact remains that tips the balance contradictory to my own belief and those of my hyungs as with my brief lack of concentration, everything changes – words fill my mind – because she has managed from the get go to legitimately push me backwards. She has me moving, whole body getting in tune and reflexes to work as two close calls of the metal coming in contact with me have me focusing solemnly on her.

It isn’t until she’s out of breath that she jumps back like in the beginning, and simply breathes harshly through her nose. That’s the weakness of being a human. Getting tired. I know it’s not fair but I take my chance and charge forward, confident that I’ve got an easy win under my belt.

But as I move forward faster than I should I’ll admit her left hand reaches and gets in line with where my sword is pointed at. She’s reaching forward as if she is about to pick an apple, the action itself insane. That has me stopping right before the blade can touch, forcing my whole body to a halt. That’s when she strikes, finger wrapping onto the top of my blade against the blunt part of it.

It all happens so fast even for me, as she holds onto my weapon and just like the first time, she’s finds herself right up in my personal space, her blade finding a home under my chin it seems.

Her face is almost feral – that’s how I’d describe it the easiest. She’s showing her blunt teeth as she breathes fast heart absolutely pounding in her chest, as she glares at me the fire I saw before has turned into some sort of a blizzard, and hunger. The cheers that erupt of disbelief and glee get all muted - her blood is calling out to me. I can feel it vibrating in her veins, pumping steadily though her heart. It sounds like a forgotten lullaby her speeding but regulating steady heartbeat. It brings a taste of nostalgia forward.

The smile that stretches across her lips seems newly unique, only for my eyes – there’s of course that prominent sense of victory, happiness that’s prominent in her whole being still only inches away from me.

I’m left blinking in confusion, the hold of my blade being let go as someone pulls her backwards the cold blade that was located under my chin retreating as well as her warmth and now prominent smell of fruitiness, and something else that I can almost taste in the air – something that kind of remind me of the smell I remember that came from my own clothes when I was still a human.

‘’Ah our sweet Golden Maknae, it seems you have meet you’re match in at least one category!’’ Jin cheers throwing his arm over my shoulders, looking extremely gleeful as he starts poking my sides. I twist at his ministration but keep watching as Hoseok lifts Y/N up onto his shoulders, her hands free from weapons and desperate to hold onto something as she dangerously shifts and tries to balance herself on his shoulders. His oblivious jumping spree continues despite her cries of protests with Jimin standing behind the two ready to catch her as Taehyung dances along with the vampire that’s carrying her.

I can’t shake off the tingles that seem to entrap me in a sense, running over my skin prickling at my long stopped beating heart. I stare almost dumbly listening to the shouts and cheers from the human girl, that decided to act along with the boys’ antics easily following and mimicking them having the time of her life judging by the giant smile she has on, and adorable chuckles that raise. But the smile she gave me doesn’t resemble this one, one bit. The one I got was more – her.

‘’Good effort, Jeongguk-ah.’’ Yoongi speaks up appearing finally on my right, hand holding onto his Geom once more. Meeting his eyes, they seem soft the smirk he has not too promising for my dignity ‘’Of course you’ve managed to accomplish all the don’ts than do’s in what I’ve taught you, but it was a good lesson nonetheless.’’

Jin stars laughing immediately agreeing with Yoongi, the jokes and mockery following after.

I hate losing, I despise it with my whole being given that I’m not sure if I still have a soul. And even though irritation is brewing under my skin, I can’t find myself to feel real anger of any sorts. She threw me off too much to completely understand the feeling I’m experiencing, in regards of her.

Of course, I still don’t like her, why would I pfffff. This is only a reason more that I need to start and upstage her frankly speaking. I’m not jealous of her being in hyung’s good graces or anything childish like that but…I’m the golden maknae. I need to knock her down a peg or two.

I find myself watching her like a hawk, awaiting the anger and frustration to hit me…it doesn’t. And that’s concerning me slightly.

*A few days later*

I squint automatically at the spill and change of contrasting light that floods into the room. My eyes are quick to adapt but my brain forces me to react humanly. Rounding the corner, I’m met with a wide and open door that leads to the side of the mansion, into the gardens and towards the pathway that leads towards the garage. I sigh annoyed that someone is trying to start a prank war again. It’s a poor prank just leaving the doors open, but the sun that’s shinning inside is frankly bothersome enough to diminish my mood.

I was having a good match going on the whole night, winning every time of course setting new records. The peckish-ness appeared out of nowhere – I fed 2 days ago, there’s no reason why I’m feeling hungry again. I should be fine and yet, my throat itches uncomfortably enough so that I need to take plan B; Take a blood bag from the fridge to calm myself down.

I rarely do this, hating the cold and very artificial taste that the bag leaves on the blood. But the blood bags are there for this exact reason.

I stand at the entrance of the lavish kitchen and dining area on my right and place my hands onto my hips just contemplating my life choices as one does in the middle of the day – or night for some. Why does it have to be so sunny, why can’t it just keep raining. Of course, it has been a while since I’ve seen sunlight, but I sure as hell didn’t miss it that much. It’s absolutely glowing against the polished marble flooring, and reflecting all over the clean white kitchen.

There are bowls on the kitchen island, the presence of them making me listen in a focus for a moment if someone is close and trying to scare me. Silence. Strange. Approaching the kitchen island and avoiding the stray odd ray of sunlight that stretches across the room, thanks to a curtain being moved, I see pastry has been laid out on a wooden desk. Two banana’s lies on another chopping board still intact, while a gooey brown substance resides in a pot next to the pastry.

I’m so confused. What is this supposed to be?

Looking around for Jin hyung I’m left wondering if he’s back at experimenting with human food and trying to impress our annoying temporary human resident. Last time he baked 10 cakes, of different flavours, which the human did thank him over hundreds of times for, but barely made a dent in them. We had to throw them out after 4 days, with Jin hyung reasoning that it’s logical as they were going to go bad. Sounds like bullshit to me as in my time cakes were a delicacy to get often, but I feel as if they are more compact and longer lasting than 4 days but what do I know about human food. Eh.

Glancing towards outside keeping my eyes trained on the marble flooring I pick up on someone talking fast and thoughts of How lovely and kind, she is flooding my mind That girl has a knack for flowers, and it helps that she’s extra nice unlike most of Mr. Min’s friends I block out the gardeners thoughts as they continue wandering about Yoongi…yet again. Shaking my head to clear my mind, I take the chance squinting and frowning at the brightness even more prominent, my eyes trained to the outside watching as Y/N stumbles over her feet but recollects herself. She’s carrying a small bouquet of what seem like lavender coloured roses. I didn’t even know we grow those. The flowers don’t look that nice during the night I’ll admit that. But I know Jin hyung wanted multi coloured flowers, and I know there was a Boquete of blue roses placed on this very kitchen island some time ago.

I watch as the girl jumps exaggeratingly childish and cheerful onto the concrete ground of the mansions floor and short patio. Her bare feet make barely any noise, as she approaches.

‘’Oh, hey what are you doing up still?’’ she asks squinting but due to the contrast she must be experiencing. I’m surprise she spotted me outside. She kinda looks that sort of an adorable-ugly.

‘’You do know that we don’t sleep right?’’ I ask hesitant not sure if she knows this fact. I stare at her, ready to bolt to her aid as she stumbles again once she steps inside closing her eyes and taking 2 steps blindly ahead.

‘’I know that, I meant as in up now. Everyone is usually closed off at this time.’’ she’s quick to explain opening her eyes carefully, looking around still squinting the ugliness still there.

‘’I should be asking you why are you up instead. Aren’t you usually dead asleep by this time?’’ I turn the conversation around, watching as she reaches the counter and places the roses on it, turning back to the doors. I snort to myself at her choice of clothing being a white shirt with jean overalls that hang slightly lose on her.

‘’To be honest I drank one energy drink or two too much, so I’m wide awake.’’ She replies turning to look at me, expression relaxing into a normal one, eyes still blinking quickly a few more times glossiness present in them ‘’Do you mind the doors?’’ the question has my brows rising in question ‘’Is the light bothering you? I can close them, if it is.’’

Surprised I contemplate for a moment, preferring that she does close the door off but there’s something more to her unusual question ‘’I’m fine with them as they are.’’ I lie and sit myself on the second bar stool from the right corner of the kitchen island, making sure I’m keeping a safe distance from the pesky sun.

‘’Oh good.’’ she sighs in relief perking up ‘’To be honest I didn’t even know how much I’ve missed the sun.’’ the short explanation is happy as she practically skips over to the doors anyways.

‘’Hm I bet you do.’’ I mumble reaching out for one rose, seeing with the corner of my eye as she slips into a pair of slippers that she has left near the wall which I didn’t even notice were there.

‘’Do you?’’ looking up she doesn’t seem like she means anything ill with the question. I think she’s naïve enough to be genuinely curious.

I take a moment to think about it looking out at the brightness, while she goes to rummage around the cabinets ‘’I’m not sure.’’ I admit ‘’I miss sightseeing certain places in day-light. It’s just easier going at night, instead of putting a ton of cream to my skin, and having an umbrella along.’’ I ramble remembering the time when I visited Paris alone. I put a ton of sun cream on, and picked out a designer umbrella, but the curious looks and people randomly asking me to take pictures with them as they thought I was a model or something got tiresome really fast.

‘’Hmm, that would guarantee unwanted attention I’m sure.’’ Her comment has me turning to her again curious as it’s like she read right through my thoughts. She’s filling out a vase or just a tall ornate glass up with water, face portraying her concentration with the matter.

‘’So, whenever you aren’t hanging out with vampires are you usually acting as a regular human being then?’’ I ask interested in her answer and maybe to learn more about her. Even though hyungs have quickly grown to thrust her, I still have my reservations. She talks a lot like A LOT but she never really reveals to much exclusively about herself.

I get a snort in reply eyes meeting my own briefly with a slight glare and edge before she turns to the vase and flowers ‘’It differentiates.’’ She starts ‘’I used to have a job high up somewhat, so yeah, I’ve spent the last couple of years just working. Working, sleeping and eating.’’ I’m taken a back at the new information not having expected her to reply seriously ‘’Had to be on point and available 24/7. You know how greedy humans can get.’’ She sighs tiredly. I can’t argue with that statement so I simply offer a faint nod, watching as her fingers work delicately over the flower petals, rearranging them around neatly. She accepts the flower I was toying with, with a small smile ‘’So one day when I was going to a library to do some research for a project I was doing, I stumbled upon a revelation and just decided to quit.’’

Taking a step back she cheers up instantly ‘’Ta-da.’’ I observe her mirthfulness observing her as she steps over to the sink, letting the water on as she runs her hands under it ‘’So with that done, and wanting to avoid confrontation as any normal human being…’’ I roll my eyes at that knowing what lengths humans are willing to take to avoid confrontations ‘’…I hoped on a plane and, after 5 hours from landing I walked right through your front door.’’ She ends her explanation, whipping her hands with a kitchen cloth.

‘’Just like that huh? No attachments nothing?’’ she nods immediately as I tilt my head shifting after to rest it over my bent left arm ‘’Aren’t you humans known for unnecessarily attachments to people and objects?’’

She chuckles at my statement nodding and smirking amused, hands set in motion as she stirs the gooey substance in the small pot. Smells like chocolate but the melted kind ‘’You’re right about that for the most part and people. But I’ve been sort of a nomad my whole life. Never stayed in one place for too long.’’ She shrugs spreading the substance all over the pastry working meticulously and evening it all out ‘’Didn’t find a reason to settle down.’’

‘’Why thought? Did your parents move a lot so that’s why you can’t find a place you genuinely like?’’ having studied a bit of psychology I pick up on her not fully revealed and rounded answer. She’s generalizing herself a lot. Her movements don’t stop or pause in hesitation at my question.

‘’The second part is more correct in a sense. My parents eh they were what they were.’’ Again, she shrugs, placing the two bananas on the edge of the pastry ‘’I moved a lot with my partner actually. We went on adventures and whatnot, ready to marry and all that jazz.’’ I raise both eyebrows feeling perplexed not having expecting that from the likes of her. That sounds a lot harsher than I intended it to but…I would have never expected her to want to marry, or well be serious about it.

For some reason I can’t imagine her being paired up with any regular man or woman, specially not human for some reason. It feels wrong, feels like nobody ordinary like that can handle her.

‘’Tragedy?’’ I ask assuming the progression of her story.

‘’Yep!’’ she replies too cheerfully for the theme of the conversation, popping the ‘p’ childishly ‘’Wasn’t meant to be.’’ She offers a smile as she looks at me, not looking that particular sad. It must have taken her a long time to get over it thought, because her eyes aren’t matching the mask that she has put on. I can heart the almost pitter patter of her slightly speed up heart. And the shakiness to her hands isn’t missed.

‘’Most things aren’t.’’ I agree remembering my own human experience. I was meant to marry a girl from my village. Being a fisherman, third generation I was meant to uphold the family tradition, and have managed to snob the prettiest girl. But yeah. Not everything is destined to happen as you expect them to. Although looking back I know Na-yeon was wrong for me in all aspect. Even back then with my human set mind and precepting I was mostly doing it as it was expected of me, and not because I genuinely wanted it ‘’Also what are you even doing?’’ I find myself frowning as she starts to roll the whole thing together, bananas disappearing inside the roll.

She doesn’t even respond for a moment, and has stopped breathing. I’m about to stand up and help her out force her to breathe when she straightens up grinning widely again that triumphant expression I’ve seen before present.

‘’A HA!!!!’’ she cheers removing her hands away carefully looking extremely proud at the brown coloured roll that’s left on the tray ‘’I present to you, a perfectly made chocolate banana pudding roll!!’’ she presents’ hands pointing at it dramatically.

I glance at the severely unimpressed desert ‘’Judging by that crack right there, it isn’t as perfect as you claim it to be actually.’’

‘’What no!’’ she rushes leaning over it, bumping her hips into the stone counter. Curses raise, sounding way to rough for the image of a soft girl that she’s unintentionally portraying as of today. She preoccupies herself with inspecting the roll ending up frowning as she straightens up hands placed on the counter while she glares at the desert as if it has offended her.

‘’If it’s any consolation if I were still human, I’d eat it.’’ my words have her shoulders softening up as she shifts and eyes it some more. Her lower lips juts out slightly mouth forming into this sort of adorable hurt puppy pout.

But it only lasts a few seconds, lips quick to turn upwards onto a thankful smile ‘’Thanks.’’ Once her eyes meet my own, I get this odd warm sensation in my chest, seeing her brighten up thanks to my words and encouragement.

‘’Your welcome.’’

*A few days later, later*

‘’I don’t understand why I have to be the one to check on her.’’

A pause ‘’Probably because you’re the only one to dislike her the most. And the most probable to not make any advances.’’ At this I immediately fake throwing up, Taehyung chuckles following as on que ‘’See?’’ he points out smirking ‘’Namjoon hyung got almost punched when he accidentally told a pick-up line yesterday. She didn’t even register it, but Yoongi hyung just went off on him. Poor Namjoonie.’’ He tuts shaking his head finding hyungs predicament funny judging by the smirk he has on.

‘’As perceptive as she is, she can be so annoyingly dull.’’ I half snarl exasperated groaning to myself.

‘’That’s mean Jeonggukie.’’ He raises a complaint ‘’Don’t be so cocky. There’s always more than meets the eye. Even in regards of humans.’’

‘’Yeah, we’ve all seen that but…’’ looking at Taehyung that’s still walking besides me, arm brushing against my own mischievously now and then – he’s giving me this fond look as his eyes take me in. We start to slow our steps down, as we’ve reached the doors that led to the library.

‘’But?’’ he insists as I shrug stuffing my hands into the front pockets of the oversize black hoodie I have on.

‘’I just don’t like her.’’ I mumble, glancing towards the door lowering my tone.

‘’Yeah why is that?’’ glancing up I’m surprised at the way he narrows his eyes, and gets sort of serious, licking his lips quickly.

It’s easy to let the frustration rise up again, get a hold of me around my throat choking me up for a moment as I have to think what to tell him exactly. He’s smarter than he looks, always two steps in front of you, catching Yoongi and Jin hyung of guard even though the two of them have practically seen it all in all the years they’ve been alive. This isn’t said in vain when others warn against Taehyung. He’s as cunning as he is stunning.

‘’It’s the way she is! She just gets on my nerves you know.’’ I try lamely frowning gaze going to the doors ‘’The way she breathes is exaggerated, the way she talks, her voice is way to scratchy and of pitched, the lack of manners towards hyungs ugh…’’ If I was human, I’d shudder from anger but I simply close my eyes in frustration that part of her still irking me greatly ‘’…and the way she keeps on wearing hyungs clothes, and not sleeping enough. Does she even eat enough? What is that all about.’’

I end up glaring at Taehyung who nods once holding his serious demander but soon after ends up smirking widely eyes sparkling almost. He arches an eyebrow clearly having thought of something ‘’There’s also the fact that she almost beat your score in Overwatch.’’

‘’THAT TOO!!’’ I half exclaim throwing my hands in the air, then proceed to step up and don for a moment ‘’With my reflexes how is that possible?!’’ Taehyung just keeps nodding in understanding ‘’She’s a child that’s what she is! Doesn’t reach any level where we are, mentally and maturely.’’

‘’Pfff says the late bloomer himself.’’ I stop moving around and give hyung a challenging glare.

‘’I wasn’t that late. Just had extra on my plate in regards of my abilities.’’ I pout going into a similar pose as the beginning just standing closer to the doors.

‘’Aigo, Aigo, Golden maknae.’’ He tuts affectionately walking closer hand coming up to place it over my shoulder as he leans close to me ‘’You’ve got a fair point there yes, but don’t you think that we’ve had to accept you too in the beginning? That there weren’t any let’s say fractions of hesitance’s from our parts?’’

At this my nose scrunches up as I know it’s true, about their reservations when it came to me. My telepathy came at a disadvantage in the beginning, strength easily frightening even Hoseok hyung who is considered to be the best fighter in our clan.

‘’That’s it Jeonggukie. I see how your clogs are starting to turn. Do you see my point?’’

‘’She’s human hyung. There’s a difference.’’ At this he waves his hand straightening up.

‘’Meaning it’s in your favour if you really despise her that much. She’ll die judging by her bad lifestyle choices in a decade or two. Maybe three.’’ He shrugs attitude way to uncaring unlike our conversation a few days ago where he praised her and defended her loudly against Jimin who was upset at her yet another refusal. So, the switch has me second guessing him, and myself as…I didn’t even think about her dying.

It causes that boulder that hasn’t left my stomach to churn and twist, burning even at the thought of imagining seeing her lifeless body.

I don’t even notice that we’ve fallen silent until hyung speaks up again ‘’Anyways I’m gonna go find Jin hyung and maybe convince him to go to the city with me. I need new pair of shoes and a new collection is rumoured to be just on the verge of launching.’’ He wiggles his eyebrows patting my shoulder for a moment in consolation before he’s backing away, right hand stuck in the pocket of his pants whilst he gives me a finger gun with his left-hand winking a cold breeze of air whooshing past me, his eyes for a brief second turning icy blue ‘’Good luck, Bunny. And be nice to our human. They are fragile creatures after all.’’

I tilt my head in confusion staring at him ready to ask what he means by that but he disappears in a blink of an eye taking off leaving me alone. Even though I don’t exactly need air to breathe I do take it in and sigh, recollecting the confusion that are my emotions and have been for the past few days. Spinning on my heel I glance towards the double doors which are decorated with golden motifs, having been painted into white the wood barely peeking through unlike the inner side that displaying the many years the tree had before it was chopped down.

Pressing onto the handle of the left door I silently without making any sounds enter the big room from another perspective, the other entrance being in the ballroom whilst this one leads inside from a corridor that connects to the music room in the back of this huge house.

Nothing seems out of the usual as I take a look at the ground floor. Nothing moves either. I can hear her speed up heart and breathing, murmurs now and then cutting of the serenity. I walk over to the table that has been left since the “party” we’ve had. The name plates have been removed from its surface but it has been filled up by different books, and scrolls even. I glance over the few notebooks and stray papers here and there easily recognising Namjoon’s handwriting as well as Yoongi hyungs. The cracked screen of the iPad is mocking me as it lays unsafely on one corner of the table.

What has my immediate attention is a different looking notebook. I smirk in amusement as this handwriting is as of a child, words scribbled down in a fast pace, letters somewhere half formed or just distorted, even smudged. There’s an ink stain from a hand near the edge of the page, which I brush my own fingers over it. I can’t read through the text as it’s written in another language, and the choice of letters themselves are unusual. I don’t think I can even pronounce any word.

I’m not really here to offer my academic assistance as I barely speak any English myself, but it’s kind of nice to see that her character is clearly portrayed in the way she writes, and how she fills the page up irregularly. She’s as chaotic in real life and on paper.

Musing for a moment further spotting glasses and bottles of water on the other end of the lengthy table, I do glance upwards towards the second floor, hearing as a pen or something small as a pen clatters hitting the ground. By the lack of movement, I already figured she was asleep.

Silly human. Her life style is really un-well and extremely badly planned. Stepping around the table my intention on getting the girl and carrying her to her bedroom, gets postponed as my eyes shift onto a book, that for whatever reason has my feet stopping.

The gold of the cover is unusual between the rest of the books with used and dried up leather and yellowed pages. I pick it up, buried in between a stack of smaller scrolls and encyclopaedias actually. I frown at the title; it’s about mythology. Every kind actually.

What’s the most puzzling is that it’s written by hand. And the handwritings differentiate. Multiple people worked on this, and judging by the smell of the ink and paper things have been added or pulled out. Pictures are drawn here and there, and languages vary from all around the world from what I can judge by some symbols and added explanations in English.

There’s a myth about Thor, expanding at least 20 pages. Another myth about Pele a Hawaiian goddess covers well over 30 pages with many illustrations, and instructions from what I can assume for tattoos.

Shifting around I do recognize myths from the hand drawn images instead of their native titles. Nearing almost the end of the book, as I sniff at the pages and feeling like a complete idiot for a moment, I have to sit down as these are completely new pages added to this. Taking a look across the table, I find the A4 format pages placed near the corner just ahead of me, along with an old type-y looking pen with ink next to it.

Turning a page, I recognise the writing as being Jin hyungs which completely catches me of guard. Is this what they have been working on? Writing about myths?!

Don’t we have a coven war brewing?

Shuffling through the many written pages coming to the last one, I stare blankly for a moment the myth about Dangun which I know as it’s of Korean mythology. And as appropriate it is written in Korean.

What am I missing here? Why have they been working on this?! Why did other people work on this?! I pull the pages going slowly backwards, seeing stories actually unfolding. It’s not hard to connect the dots after a few pages, that these are from Yoongi hyung. But these are dating WAYYYY back in the millennia it feels like when hyung was as young as we are now it seems. But he was more mature definitely.

I frown at a half empty page where a sketch has been drawn into a half finished only the golden frame being finished. The sketch though - I can tell that linear lines are spears and, some even arrows that are sticking from what seems to be a pile of bodies on the floor? Only one figure is standing in the centre of the picture, with their back towards us armour robust and yet slim in a sense. I narrow my eyes at the handle of the soldier – the pommel is shaped like a pouncing lion.

Battle of Hwangsanbeol

That’s the title. I know about it from what hyung told me, but this is written much more in detail. The main explanation is from what humans are being told in schools, I remember it from college when I studied mechanics years ago. But the new ink underneath and Yoongi hyungs writing, is an indicator that this is where his story begins.

He didn’t take sides in particular, changing armours as he shifted from a Silla’s soldier into a soldier of the Tang army. The similarity is there with added commentary to make you know more about how life was then. What gets my attention is the comradery between hyung and another fellow that name is very generalized. They’ve struck a friendship and have covered for one another in battle, which had him switching sides and to remain with the Silla side out of curiosity and maybe even naivety he describes it. He didn’t have as much experience then as he does now to have judged everything smartly enough, even though the odds were clearly in Silla’s favour.

The praise towards the human soldier is tremendous, giving him full credit of saving his life more than once. And even though he was a turned by that point into an immortal, the praise has even me feeling grateful towards the man.

He did raise up in ranks, but he never left Yoongi behind. During the main battle after the slaughter, he describes his fellow soldier as being remorseful, as they stared across the field of many fallen soldiers and warriors and manslaughter that stretched miles away it had seemed at the time. It was brutal but necessary – I forget that hyung is from a completely different timeline sometimes. It’s easy to mistake him, and others for younger vampires.

The solider…tilting my head I spot a few notes written lightly over hyungs hand-writing. My frown deepens as the anger I felt before towards her starts to simmer - it’s not hard to see that this is Y/N’s handwriting. Her comments are absolutely ridiculous, playing hyung’s praise off – she’s dismissing it. How dare she? What does she know about wars, she was born in peaceful times, I bet to a good family! She hasn’t never experienced the horrors of wars, the stench, the travesty the fear the…

‘’No!’’ a shout has me glancing up stiffly. I notice how my fingers have curled into fists and how tight my jaw has locked together from anger ‘’…don’t…’’ she breathes out her heart beat now hammering. Confused I glance upwards thinking that she’s playing a joke on me. I’m ready to fucking snap at her – if she really is pulling a joke on me right now, I’m going to kick her out of the house myself.

‘’Ah no…’’ her words shift a cry following. What? Standing up I wait for amount further listening to her speed up breathing that’s sounds like hysteria ‘’NOOOO DON’T TAKE HIM NOOO!!!!!!’’ her cry is of terror and panic. It absolutely shocks me to my core but has me moving upwards, reaching the second floor and top of stairs in a second ‘’NO HE’S MY SOU…’’ she continues to shout switching to another language panic rising.

I’m completely disoriented by the mess that I find on the upper floor, books pulled and settled in piles on the ground, as posters of maps hang up over the book’s shelves. The 2 floor is sort of a balcony going half around the room above both entrances. After legit 2 spins around myself, I pick up on a mattress actually located in the very corner of the library. There’s a sheet stuck to the bent down ceiling, and a ton of blankets are thrown around the mattress.

I can see her finally, leg sticking up shoulder peeking over as she shifts onto her side ‘’Agápi mou, agápi mouuuuu…’’

‘’Shhhhh Y/N-ah.’’ I whisper as I run to her side, kneeling right next to her, my hands coming in contact with her overheated skin. She’s drenched in sweat, and twitching like crazy as if she’s fighting someone ‘’Wake up Y/N-ah it’s just a dream it’s not real, it’s not real!’’

‘’No…don’t go…’’ I pull her body into my lap without a second thought. As I brush her hair away from her face she flinches away probably because of my cooler hand. She’s overheating. What catches me of guard and has me whining is the tears that are running down her cheeks.

‘’Y/N-ah wake up, please wake up! It’s not real okay, it’s just a nightmare! You’re here with me in the library safe and sound! Come on you silly human wake up.’’ I urge her on rambling shaking her gently. She startles awake, eyes flying open hands in fists ready to fight. I half expect her to punch me but once her eyes find mine, she ends up smiling tiredly body immediately going lax in my hold.

‘’My love.’’ She says in Korean right hand reaching up, left palm pressed flat against my chest where my heart is.

‘’Don’t fall back asleep.’’ I try as her eyes fall close back again, her breathing having stabilized somewhat ‘’The one time I legit want to hang out with you, you suddenly want to sleep ah? The disrespect.’’ I laugh worried as I take her in. The bags under her eyes are prominent, and her cheeks which looks sort of more sunken aren’t reassuring me with her wellbeing at all.

I stare as her eyes blink open, taking me in clearly her hand that’s resting over my chest raises up shakily to cup my other cheek.

The blissful expression that settled before turns into a frown and a pout, as her eyes take my features in the change in mood confusing me with what to do. I readjust my hold gently, holding her steadily in my arms, making sure I’m not pressing to much of my skin against hers. I’ve heard from others that humans don’t like our colder skin in particular.

‘’Jeongguk-ah.’’ She states to which I offer a smile immediately as she seems to be coming back from wherever her mind took her.

‘’Yep. That’s my name.’’ I reply feeling her body tense up but not prominently. She’s waking up slowly at her own pace. She hums suddenly and pulls her hands back. I have to stop myself from wanting to tell her that it’s fine if she wants to touch me. That only conflicts my emotions all the more.

‘’Sorry am…was I making too much noise?’’ she asks gathering her thoughts, eyes darting around getting clearer as she notices the odd position we’ve fallen into.

‘’No, not at all.’’ I says wanting to immediately start reassuring her that everything is fine and she didn’t do anything wrong, but I have a hunch she’s not going to believe me either way ‘’Hyung wanted to see where you were exactly, and I was bored so. Two birds in one stone.’’

I help her up, as she starts to shift wanting to sit on her own. Silence begins after my brief explanation and after I’ve helped her sit back down onto the mattress. Without her permission I grab for a warm looking blanket and pull it over her shoulders, sitting down properly right next to her having this need to be as close as possible. Maybe I should offer a hug? Please say yes.

‘’What time is it even?’’ comes her question before I can ask her my own. She starts sifting more towards me, in the beginning of her sudden restlessness keeping the blanket around herself as she reaches with both hands upwards to rub her fingers across her eyes.

‘’Around 10AM.’’ I reply glancing towards the curtains, that are letting through sunlight from outside across the polished wooden floors only ‘’I think Jin hyung missed you at breakfast today.’’ I offer a smile while she pulls her hands away, running one through her messy hair quickly. She’s hunched forward into what seems like an awkward position – her gaze still seems far off like she’s not fully present yet.

‘’Oh yeah breakfast.’’ She mumbles glancing to the end of the mattress, to which I notice more pages and a silver notebook that has slid from the edge of the makeshift bed the papers all sprawled on the ground clearly by accident ‘’I didn’t mean to sleep.’’ She starts clearly her brain slowly starting up as she looks at me finally absently scratching the back of her head ‘’My back started to hurt, so I figured I should lay down or lean against the wall.’’ Ah so that’s why there are so many blankets piled up against the wall behind us.

‘’You should think more about getting proper sleep.’’ I comment ‘’I’m sure as great as this place is and cosy, I bet a proper bed would feel a lot nicer.’’

My heart and stomach flutter as she breaks into a small smile looking back to me amused ‘’Heard that before.’’

I shake my head immediately ‘’Uh huh. And if you’d listen, I think that would magically stop too.’’

She chuckles at my words, the gesture filling me with sort of pride that I actually made her smile and laugh. Oddly I want to comfort her properly. I want to make sure that she’s alright. Seeing her so distressed it…I can’t help but to still feel a bit freaked out myself. Her state is worrisome. Traces of her tears are still present over her puffy cheeks.

‘’So...’’ I start awkwardly ‘’Are you okay?’’

At this she looks away smile disappearing slowly ‘’I’m fine.’’ Another smile raises over her slightly dry lips this one clearly forced. She’s putting up a front – I just want to help her.

‘’You…’’

‘’I’m fine!’’ she’s quick to add not even looking at me swiftly pushing herself away, crawling over to the fallen notes, hands prompt with gathering her things ‘’Its fine. Totally fine.’’ She repeats it like a mantra, almost doubling over when she attempts to stand up ‘’I got it!’’ after the exclamation she’s up on her feet, proudly smiling goofiness making an appearance ‘’Totally A okay!!!’’

Frowning I’m quick to stand up following as she starts walking forward, feet slipping into her slippers before descending down the steps.

‘’You sure are saying that a lot for someone that just woke up screaming.’’ I don’t hold myself back this time. Even though I can’t see her face as she’s slowly descending down, the spring in her step isn’t present as much. She always walks with a bounce to her.

‘’This is the first time, it happened.’’ She huffs walking straight over to the table once her feet reach the ground. I grimace at her blatant lie, having heard her before in similar states that make much more sense now. But it’s always Yoongi that’s was at her side, specially whenever she went to sleep. It is different completely different to hear her from across the house, than from seeing her up close. It gives new meaning to her as a person.

‘’Yes, but it’s the first time that I’ve seen you sleep and wake up like that.’’ I point out as she places her notes on the desk, probably noticing the opened book I’ve left behind in my haste. Her head remains turned towards it, eyes going over the opened page ‘’You have nightmares every time you sleep, don’t you?’’

Taking the last two steps my feet touch the ground floor. I wait for her response as I make my way over to her left side, standing near her but putting enough distance to give her personal space. She flips the golden book to a close, placing a random one atop of it, shoulders shrugging in the meantime. Is she trying to hide it away from me? Or herself?

‘’A lot of people have nightmares, Jeongguk-ssi.’’ The serious look she gives me, irks me in a bad way. And not as in before where I felt agitated selfishly thinking of myself, but in a way that she’s treating me distantly - like I’ve been treating her more or less. The honorific is just the cheery on top. I think the phrase ‘give him some of his own medicine’ is appropriate to point out right now.

‘’Not like that.’’

She keeps staring at me upholding the glare she settles on. It’s so different from what I’ve seen her be and act around others. For the first time, I feel like I see another side of her which she clearly doesn’t like to reveal to anyone. Or anyone that’s not hyung. It’s starting to really bother me. Of course, I don’t really want her hurting or in pain, what just had occurred is something I’m ever going forget, but I’m sort of glad that I was here to snap her out of whatever nightmare she was in. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. She looked completely heartbroken, and lost.

Seeing that she has taken up a stubborn approach, it’s hard to miss the way her body trembles. Wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, and a simple t-shirt the difference in temperature has her obviously chilly maybe even cold.

Given that she doesn’t intend to lose whatever staring contest we have going on, I end up breaking it and reach for the end of my hoodie, tugging it over my head smoothly ‘’Here.’’ I say offering. She doesn’t reveal how surprised she is on the outside – only her heart jumping slightly does – but she does raise an eyebrow in question ‘’You look cold and neither of us need hyung to scold us if you’ll catch the flue.’’ If I was a human, I know my cheeks would be bright red as my reasoning is clearly lame.

She accepts the hoodie with a quiet ‘thank you’ and tugs in on quickly ‘’Okay so, where was I? You can help me move some stuff and get books I need…’’ I’m pleasantly surprised that she’s quick to fall into her work after what just happened. I do keep myself quiet as this is clearly a distraction. But the smile that raises over my lips I cannot stop. Even with her back turned towards me, she looks good in my clothes. My hoodie suits her. And I’m sure my scent will mix better with hers than hyung’s.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Copyright 2020© by barbika1508. All rights reserved.

Dictionary: Dangun - was the legendary founder and god-king of Gojoseon, the first Korean kingdom Gaya also rendered Kaya or Karak - is the presumed language of the Gaya confederacy in southern Korea Geom - is the generic term for "sword", but more specifically also refers to a shorter straight-blade, double-edged sword with a somewhat blunted tip Lavender roses - is often a sign of enchantment and love at first sight. Those who have been enraptured by feelings of love and adoration have used lavender roses to express their romantic feelings and intentions. Agápi mou /Greek/ - My love

[zairapvrker]

Teeth: Vampire!Luke // Chapter 8

Summary: Luke knows the rules and his boundaries, he has respected them for centuries. He knows he should stay as far away as possible from every human on his path. But that was before she came along.

Author’s Note: idek, i just hope exams end soon even though i know it’ll be another month

series masterlist | regular masterlist

It had been silent since she last spoke. Beatrix hadn’t opened her mouth in a long while and seemed determined to keep her eyes - seemingly empty - locked onto the patch of grass right in front of her. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her brain. 

“So the myths and legends are true” her voice almost felt too loud in the silence that surrounded them and Luke nearly flinched at the sound. He looked at her, sitting with her arms around her body almost as if she wanted to keep herself from falling apart. The only thing telling him how much time had actually passed was the sky tinted with the beautiful colours of the sunset fading away.

“I’ve never encountered many witches if that can help you” he shrugged, his voice surprisingly not betraying the nerves that would’ve made him tremble if he were to be human. “Especially during the witch hunts” 

A distant, small smile made its way on her face, giving Luke some hope. “I should be heading home, I think my mom’s about three seconds away from calling the sheriff” she then said, standing up abruptly as if noticing just then how late it had gotten. The blond stood up as well, disappointment coursing through his veins.

“I’ll walk you” he wasn’t really offering, he would’ve done it anyway, no matter if she protested. Bea looked up at him, and for the first time in centuries Luke couldn’t make out what was hiding behind her hazel eyes. He stood there, dumbfounded, as she flashed him a grateful grin and started walking. Catching up in a millisecond, he walked by her side in silence - not really knowing what to say to her given that he knew things should be different by now,  knowing that she should remember. The town was pretty quiet, people and cars were still running around trying to get home but the silence between the both of them felt heavy with the weight of words left unspoken. 

“It’s alright to break” he found himself saying as they walked up the street her house was at the end of. She was still looking ahead of her, gaze shifting from the trees to the ground beneath her feet. Luke knew from the way her heart was beating that she was close to losing it, yet she still had so much to discover, and he couldn’t think of a better word of advice. Bea simply nodded, finally looking at him again just as they reached her house.

“Thank you, Luke” her voice was still quiet, just above a whisper. 

“I need you to know that no matter what happens, I’ll be here” Luke smiled back, yet again attempting to comfort her as best as he could. She was quick to look away from the intense blue of his eyes. In an inexplicable surge she let her hand shoot towards his, holding it in hers and intertwining their fingers. 

“Please don’t let me fall” she whispered, looking at their hands.A bright smile opened up on the vampire’s face. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Beatrix” The girl took in a sharp breath of surprise, her whole body stiffened, and finally she let their eyes meet again.  “How do you know my full name?”

“I think that that’s for me to know and for you to find out” he smirked earning a soft giggle back: a small victory in his heart. Bea let his hand go and started taking small steps back, looking at him until she disappeared behind the door. 

“Do you know how worried I’ve been, young lady?” Luke knew he shouldn’t have stayed behind to listen to her mother’s scolding, but it was stronger than him. “You could’ve told me you were going out to see your boyfriend, or you could’ve snuck out like every other teenager does, and let me live in blissful ignorance till you came back!” he smirked. Boyfriend. He could perfectly picture Bea’s shocked face and blushed cheeks. “He’s not my boyfrie- Where you spying on me?!” a low chuckle escaped him as he started to walk away, their bickering keeping him company until he was out of ear shot. 

-

Storming up to my room I tried to put behind me the yelling match that had just taken place in the living room, more important and pressing matters instantly coming back to mind. Luke was a vampire. Rubbing my face with a little too much force, I started pacing around my room whilst trying to get a grip on what really was reality. A vampire. Snickering in disbelief, I sat down on the edge of my bed, letting the thought marinate in my head until it stopped feeling like something out of “Twilight” and found its place into my reality. Somehow it wasn’t too difficult. I fell back onto the soft sheets of my bed, my hands were quick to come up to my head, fingers getting lost in my hair and pulling lightly at the strands. If I thought too much about the fact that I knew – had known? – a vampire an incredulous laugh would still spill right out of my lips. It felt like going crazy, trying to justify the existence of a myth into my life. The world even. What baffled me the most, aside from the fact that apparently supernatural beings existed, was a more personal matter. Something that probably only had to do with me, with us: how was it possible that through every lifetime of mine Luke would come and look for me, with the knowledge of it ending as badly as it did? Now that he’d found me, would I be doomed like every other time? How was it possible that every time he found me he’d risk it all just for love? That last word echoed in my mind, bouncing left and right. There was something else I needed to know, to find out. 

The next day at school I patiently waited for my friends to gather in our spot in front of the building, usually we’d converse until the bell rang and then reluctantly make our way to class, however today I was faced with a rather different sight.

“Hello” Luke appeared out of nowhere, his voice taking me by surprise and making me drop my notes.

“You’ve gotta stop doing that!” I slapped him on the arm lightly, probably causing zero real harm and bowed down to pick up my notebook. 

“Sorry” he let out an airy laugh, watching as I faced him again. He smirked as my eyes narrowed, clutching my notebook closer to me.

“You’re not” I sad then, his smirk only widening at my words.

“You’re right” the blond shrugged simply, then seemed to be distracted for a second, listening to something else. 

“Well, I better get going, your friends are making their way over” his lips formed a little smile and he seemed to debate, very quickly, his next move. “Have a good day” was the last thing Luke said before walking towards the school entrance, leaving me dumbfounded. 

He was right, though, when he mentioned my three friends coming. Soon enough they were in front of me, Michael and Calum seemingly wrapped up in a discussion of their own and Ashley just looking at them in mild desperation. 

As soon as her eyes landed on me however, a knowing grin made its way onto her lips.

“So” she started, dragging the o for a little. “What was Hemmings doing here?” she wiggled her eyebrows, making me inwardly roll my eyes.

“Saying hi and wishing me a good day” I simply shrugged, not seeing the point in lying.

“Sure, sure” she nodded, not convinced, when finally the two boys decided to include us in their discussion over which answer was the right one for our Maths homework, the only class the four of us had together. From then on, waiting for the bell to ring but also on our way to class, we started throwing around our answers, debating and going over every passage of the problem. 

Turns out, none of us had got it right and Calum even received a disappointed look from our teacher the second he’d tried to explain our misplaced calculations.

“I won’t miss this pathetic excuse of a subject one bit” he sighed, still enraged, as soon as the four of us stepped out of the classroom, earning giggles and nods of agreement.

“She could’ve at least been nice about it! Her job is literally to teach us, not yell how much of a disappointment we are” Ashley added, still fuming about her own interaction with the teacher over homework. 

“Well, it is eight in the morning for her, too” shrugged Michael, earning pointed looks from the rest of us. Dragging Calum away before he could start yelling again, this time his frustration directed towards the green-eyed boy, I laughed lightly watching a little colour flow back into the blond’s cheeks – clearly afraid of his friend’s temper.

“See you later!” I waved towards them walking towards the Physics classroom, the blue haired boy following and muttering under his breath. 

As we walked in and I took my seat behind Calum’s, I noticed that Luke wasn’t here yet. Since when do you notice? – asked the other part of my brain, quickly shushed as the blond in question walked into the door and shot me a wink as he walked by me. Calum was quick to turn around and face me with slightly widened eyes.

“When did Hemmings start to wink at you?” he asked in a whisper, leaning in close, still I knew the vampire would be listening. Or could he? Had I watched too many shows?

“He doesn’t” I opted for, but my friend only raised a brow at that. 

“Fine, I don’t know” I groaned quietly in mild irritation. 

“Now turn around!” I folded my arms over my chest as Calum put his hands up in surrender, giggling. Snickering I turned around myself, searching for Luke’s eyes – which of course were on us. “I heard that” he mouthed at me gaining an eye roll, but also making me blush lightly. Before I could think too much about the latest interaction, the teacher finally walked into the classroom demanding everyone’s attention.

The rest of the day went by easily, except every time I had to suffer through the sneaky remarks of my friends about the blond vampire. Luke was definitely up to something, always making sure to pass by me in the hallways, saying “hi” every time and even winking, at times. It felt like the heat that rushed to my cheeks whenever he did these sort of thins would never go away. 

“You know” started Michael as we were making our way to Calum’s car after the insufferable day spent at school. “I think you should really go over and talk to him” he nodded towards the other end of the small school’s parking lot, making all of our heads turn to see Luke standing there, busy with his phone. 

“Yeah, he’s been parading around you all day today” agreed Ashley, her knowing grin ever present. 

“He winked at her in Physics” added Calum.

“He winked at her all day” deadpanned Michael, making everyone giggle except me. I gave him a pointed look, but he just shrugged with a smile.

“Alright, I’ll go, but just to make you lot shut up” raising my hands in surrender I started walking backwards towards the subject of our discussion, earning a quiet cheer from the trio. 

“Ask him how’s his eye!” exclaimed my green-eyed friend, making everyone laugh and eliciting a groan for me. I seriously doubt his eye is anything less than perfectly fine. 

As I turned to face Luke still cringing at the quiet hollers coming from my friends, which followed my through the emptying parking lot, I noticed his small amused smile.

“Just to make them shut up?” he asked once I was closed enough, I rolled my eyes- again.

“Yes” I nodded. “What was all of that today?”

“All of what?” he feigned ignorance, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his leather jacket as he started walking towards the exit. I followed mirroring his action, although I doubted he hid his hands because he was shivering from the cold. 

“You know what” I lightly elbowed him, a little taken aback by the sudden urge to be this familiar with him.

“Well, I was just saying hi to my friend” he turned his head to look down at me due to the height difference between us. “And I rather like seeing you blush” he added, a Cheshire cat-like grin stamped on his lips. Now that he’d said it, there was no way I was going to be able to maintain a straight face or stop the heat from rushing to my cheeks. “Beautiful” he murmured still looking at me. 

Completely overwhelmed by his words, I steered the conversation into an entirely different direction. “So what happens now?” I asked, he raised a brow as if encouraging me to explain myself better. “What happens now that you’ve found me again?” I clarified, the question had rung in my head all night barely allowing me to get any shut-eye time. 

Luke looked tense, clearly familiar just as much as me with what could happen, and shrugged. “I’ll go to any length to keep you safe” he’d stopped walking, looking at me with such intensity I had no trouble believing the words he said. I nodded, resuming our walk.

“Where are we going?” the question almost came out of my mouth on its own, having danced around my mind for a little while.

“Do you trust me?” he asked back, offering me his hand to hold. It took less than a second for my brain to think of the answer.

“Yes” and I grasped his hand in mine.

tag list: @assumeimapenguin @rose-coloredmind @keithseabrook27

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Chapter Thirty-Five

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: trigger warning for possible implied eating disorders??

Nik was asleep, and Cameron was doing paperwork, and Lev was almost guilty about how bored he was. Being a ghost wasn’t exactly the most exciting thing. After running his fingers through Niks hair, wishing he could heal the deep cut on Nik’s cheek, he slid off the bed. He still didn’t know how it happened, but it distressed him. That belonged in a box in the back of his mind, though, before he stressed himself to the point of flickering out.

Lev wandered out of the bedroom, scooting around sentries. Checking on Cameron didn’t reveal Darius, but Lev wandered over anyway, peering over Cameron’s shoulder at what he was working. After a moment, Cameron looked at the black and silver watch on his wrist. “Are you done babysitting Nik?”

“It’s time to babysit you,” Lev said, even though Cameron wouldn’t be able to hear him. He reached over and brushed Cameron’s hair from his face. “You need to eat.” It was getting easier to move things, but it helped that hair wasn’t exactly heavy.

Cameron went back to his paperwork. Lev let him for a few minutes, and then tugged on his hair with more force. “What do you want from me?” Cameron asked tiredly.

“For you to eat,” Lev replied, dropping his forehead on Cameron’s shoulder. He didn’t know how to get through to Cameron when Cameron couldn’t hear him. Not that Cameron was waiting for a reply; paperwork had his attention, and even on a good day it was hard to distract him from it.

It took Lev several minutes for Lev to figure it out. He pressed a hand to Cameron’s stomach, tapping insistently.

Cameron went still, just for a moment, before, “I’m busy.”

Lev huffed, and pushed at the paperwork. All he did was bump Cameron’s pen, but he figured that was better than nothing. Cameron looked up, staring into space with a look that told lev he was grasping for non-existent patience. After hesitating, Lev tapped insistently on Cameron’s stomach again, and then reached up, cupping Cameron’s cheek.

Cameron stared down at the desk for a solid minute, jaw clenched, before he stood. Lev followed at a distance, guilt pricking at him. He knew Cameron liked his schedule, needed it even, but he needed food too. Once he was satisfied Cameron was getting something, Lev perched on the counter to watch, swinging his feet back and forth out of habit.

When Cameron settled at the table with an apple and a cup of tea, Lev padded over. He pressed a kiss to Cameron’s cheek, stroking his hair once more. To Lev’s surprise, Cameron leaned into the touch, ever so slightly. For a moment, Lev stayed, keeping his hand pressed against Cameron’s hair. He waited until Cameron was almost done with his apple to give Cameron one last pat, and then blinked away in search of Darius again.

---

He found darius with Eden, which didn’t surprise him one bit. Lev settled next to them on the floor, leaning against Darius as he listened to him talk to Eden. A smile tugged at Lev’s lips listening to Eden screech.

“I got Cameron to eat an apple,” Lev said.

“Mmm. Better than nothing. More progress than yesterday.”

Lev nodded. “He wasn’t happy,” he added, even though that was probably obvious. “Nik’s still sleeping.”

Darius sighed softly. “Cameron’s never happy. But it’s probably a good thing Nik’s still sleeping. He can't get in trouble that way.”

“Yeah. Someone hurt him last time he went off on his own. He’s got a big gash on his face. So maybe sleep is for the best.” Lev hesitated, and then admitted, “It did get boring, though.”

“I imagine so,” Darius said after humming to himself.

“Is it offensive to ask how you did it for five hundred years?”

“Would you believe I played a very long game of scrabble to keep my mind busy?” Darius asked.

“You did?” Lev asked, startled. The look on Darius’ face was close to pitying, and was enough for Lev to give a very embarrassed, “Oh.”

Darius patted Lev’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Lev sighed, and just tucked his cheek against Darius’ shoulder. “You’d think after almost a century and a half I’d learn when people are joking.”

This time Darius patted his face. “I think it's more that sometimes it's hard. Some people are too serious.”

“Like Cameron?” Lev wrinkled his nose. “I love Cameron, but I don’t think I want to be like him. Or not too much, anyway.”

“I don’t think anybody can be quite like Cameron,” Darius mused.

“He’s very unique,” Lev agreed solemnly.

When Lev looked up at Darius, he was smiling. “Unique is a good word to describe Cameron.”

Before Lev could figure out what else to say, Nate stepped into the room. Lev lifted his head from Darius’ shoulder and asked, “Is it nap time?”

Nate looked between the both of them. “Sorry to... intrude, but yes, it’s nap time.”

Lev made a disappointed sound, leaning over to kiss Eden’s forehead. “You weren’t intruding,” Lev promised. “But we can go, so we don’t keep her up.”

Nate’s expression was apologetic. “You’ll know where she is,” he said.

Lev offered a hand to Darius to help him up, and when they passed Nate Lev leaned into him briefly in thanks. “I’m probably going to hang out here for a while?” Lev said to Nate. “Nik’s asleep, and Cameron’s stressing me out.”

Nate snorted. “Cameron stresses everyone out.”

Lev nodded a little. “I can see it,” he said, solemnly. He took Darius’ hand, and scooted out the door.

When they reached the front hall, Lev looked over at Darius. The sad look on Darius’ face made Lev pause. “Are you okay?” Lev asked, squeezing Darius’ hand lightly.

The sigh Darius gave sent a pang of sadness through Lev as well. “He didn’t know Cameron like I did.”

This time Lev leaned close, pressing his nose to Darius’ shoulder. “I don’t think many people know him like you do.”

“I think he went through painstaking lengths to make sure they didn’t.”

Lev nodded, but he didn’t have much else to add to that. Instead he leaned into Darius, sighing softly. He wasn’t sure how long they would have stayed there, taking comfort from each other’s presence if Ash hadn’t stormed in, slamming the front door open so hard Lev jumped.

“Where the fuck is Lev?” Ash demanded loudly.

Automatically, Lev shrank back, even if the irate angel couldn’t even see him. It didn’t take long for Bay to appear, wailing infant in his arms. Nate was on his heels, and before Nate could say anything Lucas was settled in Nate’s arms. Bay stalked across the room, grabbing Ash by the hair on the way out, and all but dragged him out of the house.

“What did I do?” Lev asked Darius, his voice small. “I haven’t done anything. I’m dead.”

The concerned look on Darius’ face didn’t help at all. “Do you want to go find out?”

“No,” Lev mumbled, pressing his face against Darius’ shoulder. “He seems angry.”

“I think that’s just Ash,” Darius said thoughtfully. “But he does seem angrier than usual.”

“I don’t want him angry at me,” Lev said, his voice rising an octave.

More footsteps made him look up. Silas had arrived, looking more than a little confused. Nate only hesitated a second before placing Lucas in Silas’ arms.

“I’ve got this,” Nate said in their direction, and strode out the door after his mate.

“We should probably go see what’s wrong,” Darius prompted, when Lev didn’t move.

That was the last thing Lev wanted to do, but he forced himself to head for the front porch. The moment Nate looked in their direction, Ash opened his mouth and said heatedly, “You’re going to stay dead.”

Lev shied back. “I don’t- I don’t understand,” he said, shooting Nate a desperate look.

Bay shoved Ash. “Calm down. Lev is dead.”

“Not for long, if Amara gets her way,” Ash shot back.

Lev froze, and then looked back to Darius. “Is that even possible?”

Darius’ troubled look didn’t soothe Lev at all. “I don’t know. I didn't think so.”

“What do you mean, if Amara gets her way?” Nate asked quietly.

“Apparently she conned some witch into doing her dirty work. Necromancy is against the laws of nature,” Ash said. He still sounded pissed.

Lev bit his lip, not wanting to leave the safety of Darius’ side. He crept forward anyway, touching Nate’s hand lightly. “I didn’t ask her to,” he promised faintly.

Nate patted his hand. “I know you didn’t.”

Ash whipped his head around to glare in Lev’s direction. “You can't.” He switched his gaze to Nate. “I want to talk to him.”

Nate looked to Lev until Lev realized he was asking for permission. Lev nodded hesitantly. It was obvious Lev had become visible to the other two the moment Nate took his hand. Ash zeroed in on him with an intensity that had Lev flinching back into Nate instinctively.

“You need to move on,” Ash said. Lev could almost feel his desperation. “Please move on.”

“I can’t,” Lev said. “I don’t- I don’t know how.”

“Then figure it out. She’s going to break the laws of nature for you, and this is one that should not be broken.”

That was panic; Lev could recognize a panic attack from a mile away, and Ash was close to having one. It only fueled Lev’s own distress. “I don’t- I didn’t ask her to. But I don’t know how to. Nik- he’s bad, and I don’t know how to move on while he’s like this. Him and Cameron both.”

“They’re grieving. This is what people in grief do.”

“What if they grieve themselves to death?” Lev asked. He was trying to keep his emotions in check, but black was edging on his vision.

“You are no help.” Ash looked defeated, and that seemed to be the end of it, because he was walking away.

“I don’t know what to do,” Lev said desperately, flicking a look between the three who were left. “I don’t- I didn’t ask for any of this.” He could feel himself working up, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

He could feel Darius at his side, his hand on Lev’s cheek. “Breathe,” Darius ordered firmly, until Lev sucked in one useless breath after another. He tucked his face in Darius’ hand, clinging to the fact that Darius and Nate both were holding onto him.

When he wasn’t on the verge of blinking out, Bay cleared his throat. Lev looked up at him, met his stony stare as best he could. “What do you want?”

Lev touched Darius’ hand, which still cupped his face comfortingly. “I don’t- what does it matter? Amara wants me here, Ash wants me dead, and they’ll just duke it out on their own.”

“No. I didn’t ask Ash, and I didn’t ask Amara. I asked you. What do you want? Cameron and Nik are also not a part of this question.”

Lev hesitated. “I want it,” he finally said softly. “Why wouldn’t I? I was- I was happy. I’m never happy, and I was happy. I want that back. But it isn’t- it isn’t fair. And Ash- nature- do I deserve that?”

“Are you asking if you deserve to be happy?” Bay asked flatly.

“I- yes.” Lev looked down. “Do I deserve it at that cost?”

Bay sounded pained as he said, “Haven’t we been over this before?”

Lev lifted one shoulder. “I wasn’t dead.”

“Your point?” Bay asked sharply.

“I don’t know,” Lev said miserably. “All I know is I feel useless right now. More than useless.” He paused, and then mumbled, “Not that that’s too far from usual, but...”

“Then either move on, or come back. You’re not doing anyone any help just floating around here.” Bay definitely sounded annoyed now.

Lev looked to Darius now. “You... you’d be alone again,” he said, a question, almost.

“I’ve been alone for five hundred years. I think I’ll manage.”

Lev made a discontented sound, but just looked to Bay. “Are you giving me permission to let Amara bring me back?”

“I’m giving you permission to do what you want,” Bay replied evenly.

Lev nodded slowly. “I- okay,” he finally said. He hesitated, and then, “...Ash?”

Bay’s sigh was tired. “I will deal with Ash.”

“Okay,” Lev repeated, and then said, “Can I go now?”

Bay looked to Nate instead of answering. All Nate said was, “I’m not going to stop you.”

Lev slipped his hand free of Nate’s, and immediately buried his face in Darius’ neck. Darius’ arms went around him. “It’s okay. You can go,” Darius whispered softly.

“I don’t know if I will,” Lev said back. He slowly put his arms around Darius. “I- I need to think about it.”

“That’s okay. You have the time.”

Lev nodded against Darius, and then closed his eyes. “I don’t want to be here.”

“Then don’t be here.”

Lev shook his head. “I don’t want to leave you alone, either.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Lev just shook his head again. “I’ll stay,” he promised. “I want to.”

---

At this point Cyrus wasn’t even surprised when someone else marched into his house without warning. Sorin had been asleep on the couch, curled in his massive demonic form, but his ears pricked as the door slammed open. They flattened as he recognized the ginger angel who had answered Bay’s door a couple weeks ago, but when Cyrus waved him off, he stayed on the couch, claws digging into the fabric.

“I should have known you’d be doing Amara’s dirty work when you came for Bay,” Ash said.

“She didn’t give me much choice,” Cyrus said mildly.

That didn’t seem to impress Ash at all. “You’re a witch. You have plenty of choices and you chose the coward's way out.”

Sorin sat up, sliding off the couch and winding around Cyrus’ legs. Cyrus knew without looking that Sorin was glaring at Ash, but he chose to ignore his demon in favor of keeping Ash’s gaze evenly. “I made a promise. A poorly thought out promise, but a promise nonetheless.” He stoked Sorin’s head, and then added, “If it’s any comfort, there’s no guarantee I can figure it out. I have conditions. I don’t doubt I can't make a spell for necromancy, but I will not let him be raised if he’s going to spend the rest of his new life wishing he was dead.”’

“Then. Lie. Tell her you cant perform the fucking spell. Do not do this when you are a witch. you serve nature, nature does not serve you.”

“I don’t lie,” Cyrus said simply. “I do not lie, I do not go back on my word, and I do not do anything other than my best. And I do not serve nature any more than nature serves me. It’s a give and take. I won't take anything I do not intend to give back in equal value.”

“You don't lie but you'll bring back the dead?" His face hardened. Cyrus supposed he could have tried to lie, but Ash would have known, and he really had meant it when he said he didn't lie. Ash looked down at Sorin. I bet you'd want your cousin back wouldn't you. So of course you are going to be absolutely no help in getting your idiot boyfriend to see common sense.”

“There’s no need to antagonize him.” Cyrus could feel Sorin’s magic flare already; he pulled some of it into himself, just to get the temperature settled. “It was my decision, and mine alone. He doesn’t like it any more than you do.”

“Because his cousin moved on already?” Ash asked heatedly.

Cyrus frowned. “No.”

When Ash swung his gaze down to Sorin, Sorin leaned back against Cyrus’ thighs, a soft hiss coming from him. “Are you going to stay a damn cat,” Ash demanded. “Or are you going to contribute anything to this conversation?”

Sorin lashed his tail, but he shifted up. “I don’t have anything to say.” He narrowed his eyes. “Cyrus makes his own decisions.”

“Your boyfriend is going to perform necromancy, but hey, at least you're letting him be his own man, right?”

“Something like that,” Sorin snapped.

“You must be so proud of yourself. Congratulations.”

“Excactic,” Sorin said flatly, the temperature in the room spiking with his temper. This time Cyrus didn’t try to reign him in, even as he started to sweat from the two pyromancers glaring at each other.

“You're a coward. You're both cowards and you should be fucking ashamed of yourselves,” Ash shot back, before stalking out the door, slamming it behind him.

Cyrus blinked slowly at the door, and then looked to Sorin. “He’s right,” Cyrus said quietly. He pulled away from Sorin, walked into his study, and locked the door behind him.

---

Lev looked around. One of the perks of being a ghost was that the ash didn’t stick to him. He stared at the shell that used to be his house. “Amara got fed up,” he mumbled, half to himself. He looked over his shoulder at Darius. “This was the first house I owned,” he said quietly.

Darius looked around. “It was lovely.”

“It was small,” Lev said. He padded up the porch steps. “But it was mine.” He stepped through the doorway. “I remodeled the kitchen last year.”

“I’m sorry that was taken away from you,” Darius said quietly.

“It’s okay,” Lev promised. “It wasn’t a home. Not in the way that I wanted. It was small, and... empty. I didn’t mind the smallness, but it was just a place to live. Less a home and more of a safe house.”

Darius thought about that for a long moment. “It didn’t seem that safe,” he finally said.

Lev puffed out a surprised laugh. “It wasn’t in the end. But it served its purpose when I first bought it. Rem- Remiel didn’t know where I lived for a long time. I was careful. Until I wasn’t.” He watched Darius for a long moment, and then, “Did you... did you have a home? Not... not like this,” he tapped the mostly gone doorway. “But... a home.”

“I grew up on the streets of Assyra,” Darius told him. “The only home I needed was Cameron.”

Lev wasn’t sure what to say to that for a good long moment. “Cameron’s a good home,” he said. He reached out, touching Darius’ hand. “Was that all you wanted? Cameron, for a home?” He meant it sincerely, and he hoped Darius understood that.

Darius shrugged. “I wanted a family of my own, but I made sure I couldn’t have one.” He paused. “And now I’m dead, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“I wanted that too,” Lev said softly.

Darius gave him a knowing look. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Lev shrugged. “No alpha would want someone like me,” he offered. “I wanted a mate, and Cameron doesn’t do that. But I... I was happy to take what I could. It was still a family, sort of. Nik loved me, and we had Eden. Dreams are nice, but... the best I could ever do was get as close as I could.”

“For what it’s worth, Cameron does want you. He’s just not that good at admitting what he wants. He never has been.” He looked over the remains of the house, arms folded on his chest. “That would take him admitting he’s a person.”

Lev looked down. “Well... now I’m dead. So it doesn’t really matter.”

Darius shot him a look. “The people you love are trying to bring you back from the dead. I’d say it does matter.”

“I don’t know if I will,” Lev replied softly. “And we don’t know if they can. The word trying is really important.”

“Yes it is. And I think that means something about the people that love you. You’re not giving them the justice they deserve by continuing to say you don’t matter.”

Lev flinched. “I don’t mean to,” he finally said.

Darius touched his shoulder. “I know. But it doesn’t make it less true.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Lev could think to say.

Lev looked up when Darius touched his cheek, just in time for Darius to kiss his forehead. “I know,” Darius said.

Lev leaned into him, sighing softly. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said. “But I don’t want to leave Nik. And I don’t want to... I don’t want to upset nature, but I don’t want- I don’t want to be here. I hate it. I hate watching them. I don’t know what to do.” His face screwed up as he tucked it into Darius’ shoulder. “And I can’t even cry about it.”

“Bay is right,” Darius said softly. “You only have two choices.”

“And too many reasons to decide either way,” Lev pointed out. “Everyone has an opinion on what I should do.” He looked up abruptly. “What would you do?”

“I’d go back without hesitation,” Darius said.

Lev was surprised at how quickly he answered. The conviction, no uncertainty to be found, was something Lev found he envied. “Okay,” he finally said.

---

Bay found himself at Ash’s house, trying to talk Ash from burning everything to ashes around them. He’d probably start with Amara and then the witch and save him for last since he hadn’t even bothered to try and side with him.

He knew what it was like having loved ones ripped away from him, time and time again and he wasn’t going to stop Amara, especially if Lev did want to come back. There was literally no point in Lev being stuck in limbo with a bleeding heart unable to do shit besides watching on miserably.

And that was its own kind of hell.

There were bruises peeking on Ash’s skin where clothes couldn’t cover. He was breathing hard, fingers tight against the sheets as he clearly was trying to not set himself off with a pregnant Celeste sitting next to him with her fingers running in his hair. “You just need to breathe,” Celeste was saying to her mate. “Their decisions are not your fault.”

His fingers tightened. “Tell that to my magic,” he said, through gritted teeth. The underlying tone of pain did shoot a spark of concern through him, especially when she gave Bay a look. “Those selfish bastards are going to kill me because they thought it’d be fine to break the laws of nature- which- owns my ass. But sure, I just need to breathe.”

“They won’t kill you,” Bay said, sternly. “I won’t let it.” He was sure the witch wouldn’t either.

“My father is dead because he thought he could bend nature,” Ash snapped, glaring at him as he sat up rigidly in the bed. He could feel the heat pulse off him. “And now I pay the price. Those idiots perform necromancy and who’s to say nature won’t take it out of Lev? Huh? What’s that twinky little angel going to do with just angelic healing to protect him against a primordial thing like that? He’s afraid of everything.”

Bay folded his arms and frowned at him. “It’s. Lev’s. Choice. Which means he can deal with the repercussions that come of that. He’s an adult. He knows what he’s getting himself into. Everyone needs to stop babying him. He’ll keep being afraid of everything if everyone is constantly trying to protect him. And where did that get him? Dead.”

“Exactly!” Ash yelled. “He’s dead! He needs to stay dead. You do not undo death like that. You just do not. I don’t give a flying fuck how much you want someone back,” his voice cracked. “You can bleed, you can grieve and scream and cry all you want. But. You. Move. On.”

The deafening silence filling the room didn’t sway Bay’s decision, if only because Bay didn’t have one to begin with. And he didn’t know how to help any of the parties involved in this dark magic.

tagging: @incandescent-creativity @idreamonpaper @halstudies @solangelo3088 @mis-lil-red @alittleyellowdinosaur

[mentornationpodcast]

2020 in America: One big “SAW” movie being orchestrated by a “mastermind?”

I am John Abbas. I am the host of the Mentor Nation Podcast where we bring world class leaders, entrepreneurs, and people doing interesting things and we get them to mentor you by sharing their journeys, their stories, and their best advice. Think of it like having a personal mentor every week who is there to give you a tip, a kick or an aha moment so that you are more equipped in your success journey.

The year was 2001. Leigh Whannell (Director of Upgrade, The Invisible Man) and James Wan (director of Aqua man) were in their early 20s in film school. Little did they know that their simple idea for a scary movie would turn into a global franchise doing a BILLION DOLLARS in revenue and would lead to 7 sequels and counting?

They would go on to change the Horror/Thriller genre forever with a concept that in my opinion is more frightening than any Freddy Krueger or Michael Myers movie will ever be. There is just something about a horror movie based on things that could “actually happen” that scares me to death.

The entire movie was shot by these young ambitious kids in 18 days with an ultra-modest budget compared to any movie released today.

The film I am referring to is “SAW.”

A Horror/Thriller that took the country by storm, many people wondered just “HOW” this film shot by young students with little money and very little life experience could capture the attention and interest of the whole world.

I believe the answer is in the plot and how it relates to us all on a very deep and dark level.

The premise:  An evil genius mastermind nicknamed Jigsaw, kidnaps a group of people, locks them in a dungeon, sets up a labyrinth of riddles and clues, puts them in an unimaginable situation where they have to make near impossible decisions forcing their true character to come out, and then they have to do unbelievable things to escape or they will die.

When I watched the film, I found my own emotions and thoughts stirring. I found myself wondering. “Holy Crap, What would I actually do or what kind of person could I truly become given a situation of that magnitude?”

What would I do if I had to kill a complete stranger in cold blood or else my own family would die? Would I be able to live with myself in either situation?

Would I saw through my own leg with a hacksaw risking shock and bleeding to death in order to escape being chained up in a dungeon where I would die a slow and agonizing death?

What truly interested me however, was watching how simple it was for jigsaw to create a set of circumstances that caused seemingly good people to do evil things that you would NEVER think they were capable of.

STAY WITH ME, You see,

One thing that I actually believe, is that there is a delicate balance to many of our lives, and as long as our environment is predictable and manageable, most of us are good, and we go about doing what we need to do each day with very few issues.

A very wise mentor of mine once told me. “Most people are good when things are good. If you want to see someone’s true character, watch how they are when everything in their life is falling apart.”

So what in the hell does this movie have to do with the current events in America?

Well, let’s look at what’s going on right now. It kind of looks like a plot straight out of SAW.

For the last decade things have been pretty good. The economy has been flourishing, and for the most part there haven’t been any world changing events other than the occasional natural disaster or the 24/7 coverage of Donald Trump. People have been generally good to each other, working together, and living their life.

Then 2020 hits. The coronavirus becomes the single greatest GLOBAL event that derails life as we know it in the blink of an eye. Months later, just when we think we are getting a handle on it, the George Floyd murder happens, leading to social and political unrest everywhere. There is a big divide now happening in a country where we are all supposed to be on the same team regardless of sex, race, or religion. Differences of opinion between friends are turning into severed relationships full of animosity. Distrust of our government, politicians, and the people who are here to protect us are higher than I have ever seen in my 37 years of life.

A simple post, pic, or video leads to huge arguments, threats, and sometimes, even worse.

Protests are turning violent, monuments are being destroyed, and now people everywhere are walking on eggshells scared to offend someone with an opinion.

People are going to war with each other over masks, race, politics, beliefs, etc. Even the smallest thing seems to push some people over the edge.

Doesn’t it seem like people are turning against each other, and the true nature of many are coming out front and canter for everyone to see?

Could there be an “evil genius mastermind(s)” or “Jigsaw(s)” out there taking these events and using them as a catalyst to have the people in our country turn on each other?

Even if something like this were possible. Why, would anyone want this to happen? Who would want this to happen?

One possible candidate is another country.

If you are reading this and you live in America, I want you to think about something.

The U.S.     has had the largest economy on earth since at least the 1920s

The U.S.     has had the largest economy on earth since at least the 1920s

The U.S.     is regularly and rightly so called the “Land of the free” and the “Land of     Opportunity.”

There are many other things the U.S. leads the world in but here’s my point. When you are the top dog at something, especially the top dog at something as important as the economy, influence, and money, you better believe others will be gunning for you and trying to overtake you, often by any means possible.

There’s an old saying that goes something like, “The higher you climb the pole, the bigger the target on your back” or “the more your ass is exposed” and I believe there is a lot of truth to this.

Imagine for a second that this were true. To beat the U.S. if you are another country. You can’t just do it face to face. David didn’t fight Goliath in bare knuckled hand to hand combat. The U.S. is full of smart people, the defence/military budget is 100 times larger than any other country, and has been for decades. The only way to win if someone wanted to, would have to be “very strategically.”

If you’ve ever watched the movie “War of the Worlds,” the story is that Aliens that have been living under the ground for thousands of years come up and start killing everyone by the millions. No weapon, missile, or gun can even scratch them, let alone kill them. Just when it seems humanity is about to be wiped out for good and nothing will work. The aliens start dying out. We find that it wasn’t a weapon that did the job, but a virus. A virus harmless to humans, as we have evolved and developed immunity over the centuries, but deadly to them. A microscopic virus caused the Aliens bodies to attack itself leading to their death. Isn’t that fascinating: The Aliens perished, not from an exterior attack, but rather from within.

Another issue that we are dealing with in the U.S. is the fact we are a relatively new country in terms of history and others know this. We don’t have thousands of years of history and tradition that we have built upon. As with most cultures in their early days, ours too was built on conquest, treachery, oppression, and often times brutal savagery. This is not a new concept unique to the U.S.

The difference with the U.S. from other countries however, is that we are much more fragile and so “new,” that many of the wounds of the past still feel fresh to people since our country as a whole only dates back a few hundred years.

Why is all of this important? 

Well, because in my fictional world, these events would make a perfect recipe for an outside country with the ambition to be the largest economy or power in the world to get there, not by conquering us, but rather by having us conquer and destroy ourselves from within. Not to mention it’s much easier to do this than one would think. Given an “event” or “some events” happen that can be used as a catalyst. (AKA Coronavirus, George Floyd, Donald Trump and election time.)

Unlike Jigsaw, who had to create extremely elaborate environments that needed to be well thought out, planned, and executed perfectly with zero room for error, all someone or some group would need to do here is feed the fire that has already started with more fuel.

What’s the fuel? False Harmful Information.

How do you feed the fire?  Spreading False Harmful Information Quickly.

Posting     false negativity on social media where uninformed people will see it,     believe it, and become angry based on misinformation.

Feeding     the anger by sharing anything and as much as possible that which is     relevant to the core of the anger.

I can’t tell you how many so called “facts,” I read, posts I see, and articles I watch that when I just dig a little deeper and do some research, I realize are so totally and completely wrong. But by then it doesn’t matter. The damage has been done. I look at the comments and see that most people are believing it and it has been shared 57,000 times already.

We all know people who get emotional and share things, regardless of whether it is true or not. But have you ever thought or asked yourself. Who first posted it? Where did it originate? What was that person/person’s intention? 

Think about how dangerous that could become.

With social media being global, think about how EASY it would be for ANYONE, ANYWHERE in the world to create content designed to turn people against each other.

My point is to compare the ACTUAL events of what is going on in the US to the premise of the movie “SAW.”

What if Jigsaw was another country or countries, and what if the intended target is the entire United States?

I AM NOT SAYING THIS IS THE CASE, OR THIS IS WHAT’S HAPPENING. MAYBE IT’S NOT ANOTHER COUNTRY, BUT RATHER JUST ANGRY PEOPLE SPREAD OUT ALL OVER THAT ARE FULL OF HATE, AND GET JOY IN PEOPLE DESTROYING EACH OTHER. 

There could be thousands of “JIGSAW’S out there who are just stirring up things for their own personal enjoyment.

Is it actually happening? Maybe.

Should we at least consider the fact that it IS happening? I think so.

Are the issues going on real? Of course they are. 

The problem is not that these issues aren’t real, but why they are turning into something a thousand times bigger. I think one of the main reason these issues are getting out of hand and turning violent, angry, and dangerous, is because of the sinister acts of bad people who want to take a bad situation, and make it infinitely worse.

To add insult to injury. If it’s true and it is happening, it would be almost impossible to know who is doing it, who started it vs. who is exacerbating it, and where they are doing it from.

It’s kind of like “Jigsaw” is also “The Invisible Man.”

AGAIN, AND PLEASE HEAR ME,

I am not saying all of this is happening, and I am not someone who believes in the million conspiracies out there.

What I want you to think about is. How realistic it “could” be that outside influences are taking the events of 2020 and using them to destroy a country from within. Kind of interesting when you think about it.

Have you ever watched an episode of Law and Order or CSI and thought to yourself. Wow that was freaking clever! I wonder if these shows give anyone ideas in real life.

If you do, then it isn’t too farfetched of a thought to wonder if “SAW” is really happening, only to a much larger scale.

To read/listen more podcast kindly visit - Mentor Nation Podcast

[thatboomerkid]

Crown of Venom & Coil

Crown of Venom & Coil -- Akhu Path for use with Vampire: the Masquerade 20th Anniversary Edition

The art of Serpentis is well-studied by the myriad enemies of Set’s undying faithful; its dread techniques -- by which a Follower might metamorphose her pale flesh into a terrible, soul-devouring simulacrum of Apophis itself -- are legendary in their majestic & obsidian potency.

Over the last seventy dark centuries, many ignorant, fortune-seeking fools have found themselves torn to wet ribbons of spattered crimson & drifting black ash by the fangs of those devoted to the mysteries of Sutekh’s will.

Yet there are other mystical traditions of the Snake Clan: when, in 1520 BCE, the God-King himself -- already some three and a half millennia old -- led his most-blessed worshipers to slaughter Nergal and all the whimpering brood of that false god at Knossos, in the culmination of the Second Baali War, the eruption of Thera was called-forth by incalculable blood-sorcery predating the late rise of the trembling Usurpers by more than two thousand years.

In truth, the secrets of Akhu run much deeper, and much darker, than any modern-era student of the occult could dare to suspect.

Brought to you absolutely free to enjoy, to test & to share – as always – by the fine folks of my Patreon.

If you enjoy this content and would like to see more dark, modern horror material by the author, Bloodlines & Black Magic and The Hole Behind Midnight are available now.

Hugest of thanks to Dr. Joe Weinberg and to the The Broken Token for their invaluable editing-assistance and development during the creation of this fan-content.

image from here

All of the arts of the lector-priest are carefully hidden, of course, but the Path known as the Crown of Venom & Coil is perhaps the most protected of all: for it does not allow a practitioner to merely take on the twisting, poisonous shape of a beast pleasing to Set and thereby work the Red God’s will.

Instead, it allows a practitioner to become like Set himself: given command over all the serpents of the night, and the power to call-up a death-dealing ophidian plague with which to scour the cities of men as clean as deepest desert.

To Bear the Crown of Venom & Coil: A lector-priest who desires to call upon the power of this Path -- locked-away, as it is, from use by all but the most devout of the Hierophants and their favored students -- must meet successively greater requirements as her mastery grows:

Level One: The supplicant must be instructed in the art by a mentor.

Level Two: If she does not yet walk a Path of Enlightenment, the supplicant must possess a Humanity of 4 or lower.

Level Three: The supplicant must walk either the Path of Typhon or one of its ordained sister Paths (such as Path of the Warrior).

Level Four: The supplicant must diablerize at least one pretender to the majestic legacy of Sutekh: a non-Setite or apostate Setite known to practice Akhu, Serpentis or another mystical tradition exclusive to the Snake Clan.

Level Five: the supplicant must possess True Faith in the God of Storms and Violence and must furthermore actively seek-out & destroy any and all creatures who falsely claim the magic of Set.

LEVEL ONE -- Wreathe the Flesh in Serpents of Ink & Shadow

By means of this art, the lector-priest gives limited life to the serpent-tattoos which encircle her long, pale limbs: lifting them from her own skin to dance about her in a cloak of terrible fangs ... or sending them invisibly across the airy darkness to wrap a terrified victim in the shifting grandeur of Set’s favor.

System: The lector-priest spends a point of blood and makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty 4); success causes strange illusions of moving serpents to slither across the flesh of the lector-priest, moving as she desires and even rising up off of her skin to take terrible, half-substantial form.

This effect lasts for one scene and requires no active concentration.

Use of this ability is a very clear breach of the Masquerade and leaves no doubt in the mind of any witness that the lector-priest is blessed with dark supernatural gifts. Use of this ability causes all mundane and electronic recording equipment within line of sight of the lector-priest to glitch for the duration of this effect: a camera trained on the lector-priest when she invokes this ability records only eerie static.

While this effect lasts, the lector-priest gains an extra die in her Intimidation dice pools and adds one to the difficulties of all ranged weapon attacks against her. During this time, she may always use an effect identical to Feral Whispers (V20, pg. 129), although she may only affect snakes with this ability.

Alternatively, the lector-priest may cause these writhing serpents to “leap” from her own skin to the flesh of another creature she can see, afflicting the target with a cold, nauseating spiritual venom: an opponent suddenly covered in animate, poison-dripping snake tattoos subtracts a number of die from all her Stamina dice pools (including soak) equal to the lector-priest’s Akhu Trait. A creature targeted in this way makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty equal to the lector-priest’s Willpower): each success reduces the drain her Stamina dice pool by one, to a minimum of zero.

Mortals, ghouls, and other living creatures reduced to zero Stamina by this obscene curse begin to asphyxiate and hyperventilate, dying an ugly and undignified death over the next several minutes: those killed show signs, postmortem, of exposure to thousands of different snake venoms.

Only one target or subject may be affected by this power at any given time: either the lector-priest or a single victim.

The unnatural appearance of this power proves extremely disconcerting to mortals and animals (and, at the Storyteller’s discretion, Kindred who have never witnessed it before). Whenever this power is invoked within a mortal’s vicinity, that individual must make a Courage roll (difficulty 8) or suffer a one-die penalty to all dice pools for the remainder of the scene due to overwhelming fear of the coiling, unnatural serpents.

LEVEL TWO -- Depthless Pit of Holy Vipers

By use of this strange and terrifying technique, the lector-priest transmutes the very ground beneath an opponent’s feat into a writing mass of serpents, which immediately envelop the hapless victim: dragging her down into the darkness, enclosing her in a thrashing whirlpool of scales, fangs and unblinking eyes.

System: The lector-priest spends a blood point and makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty 6); the number of successes scored by the lector-priest on the roll is the number of successes the victim must score on a Strength roll (difficulty 8; Potence can add to this roll) to break free of the pit.

Each subsequent round, on her turn, the victim may attempt a new Strength check at the same Difficulty to escape the pit; if she fails to meet or exceed the required number of successes, she suffers one Health Level of Lethal damage as her flesh is torn apart by countless fangs. Mortals submerged in a pit are also subject to poison, dealing an additional Health Level of Bashing damage each turn. This damage may be soaked as normal.

A lector-priest may choose not deal damage to a creature submerged in a pit she has created, if she so desires; at will, she may cease or resume the dealing of damage. In this way, the pit may be used -- in a pinch -- by the lector-priest to evade incoming fire.

A subject may be only held in a single pit at a time, although the caster is free to invoke multiple uses of this power -- over the course of multiple rounds -- targeting separate victims, and may dispel any number of pits at will.

A serpent-pit created in this way reverts back to unblemished earth or flooring when its victim escapes, at the end of the scene, when the victim trapped within dies, or when the pit leaves line-of-sight to its creator, whichever comes first. A creature who dies within the pit is entombed when the pit closes.

image from here

LEVEL THREE -- Blood to Serpents

By the blackest of blessings, the lector-priest transmutes the soul-thick water of her victim’s life-force into a thrashing mass of razor-sharp fangs, foaming venom and squirming serpentine flesh: her victim’s skin bulges and tears as snakes spill forth from his wounds, his mouth, and the ruptured sockets of his eyes. 

System: The lector-priest chooses one target she can see. She may, if she chooses, first touch her intended victim directly or grasp an object spiritually connected to her victim -- such as a scrap of her victim’s hair or clothing, a measure of her victim’s blood, or a living creature with a deep emotional bond to her victim, for example -- to establish resonance.

This ability normally has a range of only one yard. If the target of the effect is not within range after successes are counted (see below), the magic fails.

The lector-priest then spends a blood point and makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty 6; Difficulty 7 if the lector-priest does not have resonance with her target); each success does one of the following:

adds 10 yards to her range

converts one of the victim’s Blood Points into a living serpent, trapped within the victim’s body

One success kills a mortal within a few minutes as the serpent inside him fights its way out, usually exiting his body through the mouth.

Vampires who lose Blood Points to this power also suffer dice pool penalties as if they had received an equivalent number of health levels of injury. This penalty lasts until all serpents have been removed from the victim’s body.

Serpents trapped within the victim’s body attempt to exit as swiftly as possible, dealing one level of Lethal damage apiece as they tear out of the victim’s flesh (this damage may be soaked as normal), with one serpent -- on average -- exiting the victim each round.

Serpents created in this way crumble into ash one round after leaving the body of their victim or when their victim leaves line-of-sight to their creator, whichever comes first.

LEVEL FOUR -- Call Up the Writhing Hydra

Without a word, vast and deadly serpents emerge into the world of flesh from impossible angles to serve the will of their crimson god.

System: The lector-priest spends a blood point and makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty 7); each success enables the creation of a single vast serpent.

The lector-priest loses one point of blood for each serpent created in this way; this is not considered an expenditure of blood for purposes of generational blood expenditure limits.

Each serpent is six feet (two meters) long and possesses Strength and Dexterity ratings equal to the invoking vampire’s Akhu Trait; note that the lector-priest’s Potence and Celerity dots are added to these Strength and Dexterity ratings, respectively. If the lector-priest chooses, she may spend a blood point to increase the Strength or Dexterity of a single serpent she controls by one.

Each serpent has four health levels, is affected by fire and sunlight as if it were a Follower of Set, and soaks bashing and lethal damage using the lector-priest’s Stamina + Fortitude. Serpents called-forth in this way cannot soak aggravated damage.

Serpents created by use of this ability may bite and constrict foes: both attacks inflict (Strength +1) lethal damage per turn. Breaking the grasp of a constricting serpent requires the victim to win a resisted Strength roll against the serpent (Difficulty 6 for each).

The lector-priest controls serpents she creates in this way purely by mental action, and commanding them does not require complete concentration; if the lector-priest is not incapacitated or in torpor, she may control her serpents while carrying out other actions.

Serpents created in this way crumble into ash at the end of the scene or when they leave line-of-sight to their creator, whichever comes first.

image from here

LEVEL FIVE -- Vomit Forth the Serpent-Vessel

By twist of vitae, dark prayer and obscene desire -- in worshipful reflection of Set’s own blessing of undeath upon his adoring Childer -- the lector-priest may call into the world a beautiful, living receptacle for her own occult will.

System: The lector-priest spends 3 blood points, then reduces her permanent Blood Pool by three (but see below), then makes a Willpower roll (Difficulty 8).

One success is required to create either a single constrictor snake or a single poisonous snake (V20, pg 390); this serpent is a ghoul created by the lector-priest with a Blood Pool of 3, and it gains all the appropriate benefits (V20, pg. 388 and 497) of that condition. This serpent immediately emerges from the lector-priest’s mouth, from her wounds, from the folds of her cloak, from the twisting depths of her shadow, or from any other place directly adjacent to the lector-priest; it may immediately act.

A creature created in this way crumbles to ash, blood, shadow, and wisps of ceremonial incense-smoke when destroyed or dismissed by its creator. A lector-priest may always dismiss a serpent she has created in this way back into nothingness at any time even if unconscious or in torpor. A lector-priest may possess any number of serpents created in this way, but she may not reduce her permanent Blood Pool below five.

When a serpent created in this way is destroyed or dismissed, its lector-priest creator immediately increases her permanent Blood Pool by three.

Creatures created in this way obey their progenitor lector-priest to the best of their -- admittedly limited -- ability, otherwise behaving like any serpent born of living flesh.

In addition, the lector-priest may always use an effect identical to Subsume the Spirit (V20, pg. 131) upon any serpent she has created via use of this Path. She may expend a point of Willpower to use this ability over any distance, without making direct eye-contact with her created serpent.

NPCs of the Crown of Venom & Coil

— Cecil Savage is a Caitiff ordained into the Followers of Set as a true believer, a fervent disciple walking the Path of the Warrior. He has a natural gift for Akhu, combining his talent at the Valor of Sutekh (Path of Mars) with a smattering of low-level Disciplines picked up during his time in the Anarch Free States. Over the last few decades he’s found work as a double agent on several occasions: acting as a seemingly-mindless bully-boy to a variety of arrogant Sheriffs while quietly expanding the influence of his ophidian masters in the long shadows of their rotting Camarilla cities.

— Ra-et Amduat is an elder Setitie Sorceress who maintains a number of occult temples throughout Europe and the United States, establishing new power-bases from her stronghold in Las Vegas whenever her auguries show her that the Red God’s war upon the Aeons might find a fertile new battlefront. Her experiments into the deeper mysteries of Akhu are expensive, costing her dark oceans of freshly-spilled blood: for this reason, she maintains a vast web of loyal ghouls, sycophants and novice mystical practitioners.

image from here

— Mr. Habushu is a former Serpent of the Light who long-ago abandoned the Sword of Caine to serve his God more directly. He now works for the Clan & Faith as an active Sabbat-hunter, investigating uses of blood sorcery among that sect and -- in many cases -- cleaning up the legacy of the Tremere Antitribu and diablerizing the occasional Infernalist as he does so. An ally of opportunity to any number of Josian devil-hunters and Sabbat Inquisitors alike, the affable and charming Mr. Habushu keeps a cabal of Yakuza ghouls on-hand to quickly and quietly eliminate any threats to his sleeping master.

— Winter Bellamira is an Elder ex-Assamite Baali entirely devoted to the Path of Screams, a creature of night & horror who walks the coldest, most desolate places of the world with a jagged song in her heart, a smile upon her ruby lips, and blood dripping from her delicate fingers. Amongst her ten-thousand sins, she takes great pleasure in torturing, shattering and re-embracing (V20: Lore of the Bloodlines, pg. 17) weak-willed members of the hated Followers of Set into her own dark religion. Those ex-Typhonists corrupted into mindless slaves of the Aeons by her gentle ministrations are utterly lost: anathema worthy only of swift destruction at the hands of Set’s faithful.

— Ms. Candlebriar and Oberisuku are a mutually blood-bound Tremere & Gargoyle pair, chasing after occult secrets and operating independent of any formal Chantry. The two are dangerously obsessed with unlocking the root powers of Akhu, which they suspect to be a predecessor to Koldunic Sorcery; their methods are extreme even by the standards of other Warlocks, combining Auspex & Dominate “psychic surgeries” performed on staked victims with more mundane techniques of kidnapping, brainwashing and blood-experimentation.

[livingintheworldofstories]

Humany-Wumany (part 2 / 2)

Pairing: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor x Rose Tyler Genre: angst with a happy ending Summary:  The Doctor is determined he will be excellent at humaning, but then, he's known for succumbing to hubris every now and then. And he'll try to  win Rose Tyler's heart when she's still longing for the Time Lord  version of him - though even he knows that might be a hopeless  endeavour, doomed to fail from the start. ao3: Humany-Wumany Part 1: Humany-Wumany (part 1 /  2) *** One of the things the Doctor has always loved about humans is their unwavering optimism. And it really is hard to keep at bay. Suddenly, he can see the future again. Rose Tyler will be there. The rest is just specifics.

It’s scary how much he wants it. And has wanted it, for such a long time. His favorite scents: morning breath, her strawberry shampoo, slow-dripping coffee. When laughter over the breakfast table blends into a hand held under the dinner table blends into a life lived happily. Each glittering moment of human ordinariness has become unbearably precious. The universe is his to lose.

“What’s put you in such a good mood?” Rose asks him on his third day nearly human after he’s come into the dining room humming under his breath. She looks beautiful in her tiredness, her unkempt hair falling into her eyes.

Sleep would come more easily if she was right next to him.

“Egg warmers,” he declares confidently, even though it’s just the first thing that pops in his head. “Fascinating human invention. Small egg with a hat, imagine that! Do you have egg warmers somewhere?” He looks into the direction of the kitchen counters, but Rose shakes her head.

“Mum’s not really much for knitting.”

The Doctor pulls a disappointed face. He assesses the tragic situation on the breakfast table: two poor eggs in egg cups, both hatless.

“What’s the point of eggs if not to put little hats on them?”

He grabs a banana from the basket of non-fake fruits. He perches himself up on the table, right next to Rose’s egg.

“So I’ve been thinking,” he starts. Rose watches him over the rim of her coffee mug. “I should practice being human, now that I’m, y’know, human…”

Rose is sending him a slow look, probably wondering where he is going with this. Which he is, of course! He’s always going somewhere.

“Now, tables, if you think about it, are really terribly boring.” “Maybe that’s because you’ve been using it as a chair this whole time,” she counters and kicks at his foot.

“You’re right, chairs are even more boring. Terrible concept, really. Luckily, humans have this great other invention – where they eat food on the ground, no tables or chairs anywhere involved. How brilliant is that?”

“You mean… a picnic?” “Exactly! A picnic! What a great name, rolls off the tongue. Let’s have a big picnic in a tic!” “That’ll do the trick,” Rose says. She seems amused.

“So you’re on board? Later today, picnic?” “What, are you telling me you are preparing food?” She doesn’t sound overly excited at the prospect, maybe even a little horrified.

“Oh yes. Great food-preparer, me. Or, well…” He hesitates, remembering the kitchen incident. “If it doesn’t involve any heating processes. Or knives. Or a complicated assortment of spices. Or an uncomplicated one. And come to think of it, do you think Jackie could be persuaded to let me into the kitchen again?”

“Lucky for you, you have the right connections,” she smirks at him. For a moment, he blinks, uncomprehending.

“Oh! Right.” It’s a good feeling that fills his chest with warmth. To think that they’re in this together. “So we got a deal, then, associate?”

“You bet we do,” Rose grins, “I can’t wait to see your second attempt at permanently destroying the kitchen.” The Doctor, of course, takes great offense. “Hey! Have you got no faith in me?” “When it comes to cooking?” Rose leans back in her chair. “None at all.”

“That barely counts as cooking,” the Doctor says, because he is an amazing hair-splitter when he wants to be. “Which I could be great at, by the way, if I had a little bit of practice.”

“No doubt about it,” Rose says and gets up from her chair to walk away into the kitchen.

“You don’t sound like you believe that,” the Doctor calls after her indignantly. He can hear her snicker. “Rose?” She’s laughing at him again. “Rose!”

But it’s fine. She’s warming up to him. He knows so far all his attempts at being normal have failed miserably, but at least she isn’t fed up with it yet. She’s still giving him chances. But it’s incredibly difficult to gauge how many he has left. Before it becomes clear to her that this is not working. That he may be impressive saving worlds and traveling through space and time, but that, when it comes to being human, he’s a lost cause. She might realize soon that she’ll be better off with someone who’s genuinely human. Zero percent Time Lord. One hundred percent suited for a domestic life. Not like he is. He is unused to this feeling of inferiority. Usually it’s the other way around. He’d often have to argue that his head was perfectly normal sized and not in the least too big for his body. But now… What good is being able to operate a highly complex space ship from, say, the 67th century, when you can’t even operate a laundry machine? Who, in a small corner of London, will be dazzled by his ability to speak dozens of alien languages, when none of these alien races will even make contact with earth for several centuries or longer? They were downright ludicrous, really, the accusations of his other self – born out of blood and anger and revenge. Born in fire. All he can set on fire is the kitchen. The bloody Oncoming Storm raging through a mansion on earth, oh, what a threat he makes. The universe shall shudder in fear when he takes his gruesome revenge on the dish washer for not cleaning all the dishes properly.

It’s all alright though, all okay, so long as he focuses on the task at hand. He’ll show this world that he can make a mean sandwich, if not much else. *** Rose tips back her head when she laughs, which exposes her throat, which is beautiful to look at. Her hair glows brightly in the sun. It’s so easy to forget all the things that are wrong if this one thing is right.

They are sitting on a blanket in a park close to the mansion. Rose had picked the spot. Before they’d left, she’d asked him: “Well, where do you want to go?” “I don’t know anything about this universe,” he’d said, “you lead the way.” And then she’d taken his hand, his cursed, magical hand that had once been fully Time Lord. And now they were eating his carefully prepared sandwiches, which she seemed to like – all according to a nefarious plan of his own making. (Ha, take that, other Doctor.)

“So there’s no Eiffel tower in this universe?” he asks.

“Nope,” she says.

So they couldn’t visit the most romantic spot of the so-called City of Love in this universe. Of course, in all the universe, there are far more romantic spots he could have taken her, but now that they are earth-bound, it is a bit of a bummer. But then again… She probably wouldn’t want to go with him now anyway.

“I suppose,” he begins, suddenly somber, “there are some things this universe just doesn’t have to offer.”

She holds his gaze and he is overcome by the feeling that one word from her could make his single heart stop beating.

“Do you prefer the other one?” he asks, even though he really shouldn’t. For his own sake. But anything he does these days seems to end up cutting his own flesh, so what difference does it really make? She doesn’t respond for a moment. “The other universe, I mean,” he clarifies quickly, almost tripping over the words.

She still won’t look away. Why not? Is there something on his face? Is she seeing him? (How couldn’t she?) But she shakes her head.

“I mean, when it comes down to it, they’re not all that different,” she says slowly. “For a while, I got really irritated at those pink traffic lights, but eventually I got used to it. There are some things I miss, but this universe has its perks too.”

“It does?” She leans forward conspiratorially.

“There might not be an Eiffel tower in this universe, but there are the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.” “I thought Babylon didn’t exist anymore,” he tilts his head in thought. “Visited once, but that was a long time in the past.” “Not in this universe,” she says, “and those gardens are supposed to be really… romantic.”

“Yeah?” A tentative smile crosses his face. “Yeah,” she smiles back. And then she intertwines their fingers. And it’s so hard to breathe when she looks at him this way, the way she used to. Maybe they are not out of sync any longer. Maybe she can really see him. Maybe they can live in a house with a garden, even if it had a white picket fence. Maybe the key to the universe isn’t gone with the TARDIS, it just looks a little different now.

Then he remembers.

“Here,” he says and reaches into his pocket. “I saw this and thought of you.” She makes a small noise when she sees the dandelion he picked on the way, one he can’t really interpret without the TARDIS translating for him.

“I know it’s not a rose, but…” “Shut up.” But is that her typical don’t-be-an-idiot-shut-up, or is it you-shouldn’t-have-done-this-shut-up? When did she become so hard to read? He feels illiterate when it comes to Rose, like he tries so hard to understand but it just never quite adds up to a complete picture.

She takes the dandelion from him and puts it behind her ear and rolls her eyes at him, like don’t be an idiot.

“Suits you,” he says softly.

Then she frowns, touches the flower and then looks at their joined hands.

“Wait a minute,” she says, “is this a date?” He gulps when she lets go off his hand.

“Did you trick me into going on a date with you?” “Now, I wouldn’t say tricked,” he tries to reason.

“You lied! You said you wanted to practice being human.” “I would say skillfully talked around the truth.”

“I can’t believe you,” she harrumphs and lets herself fall back on the blanket.

His heart is beating irritatingly quickly. That seems to happen a lot, lately. Only got one heart and all it seems to want is to leap out of his chest and run away. Really rather rude, that.

“Are you upset with me?” he asks hesitantly.

“You’re an idiot,” she answers and shoves his shoulder lightly. But she doesn’t run off screaming. So he lays down right next to her, blinking up at the sun. Very slowly, he brushes his hand against hers. Then, because he is very brave, he slides their palms together. And then, in what might well be the however-manyeth World Wonder of this universe, she entangles their fingers and squeezes his hand.

*** Maybe being human is not so hard after all, the Doctor thinks. After spending the afternoon at the park, they’re standing in the corridor of the mansion. All day, Rose has barely let go off his hand.

“I should really go to sleep,” she says now, but doesn’t move. Perhaps she doesn’t want to leave. The Doctor knows he doesn’t. (He doesn’t want to go back to the big lonely bed where there is way too much space for dark thoughts to settle under the blanket with him.)

“Are you having nightmares?” he asks softly. He really hopes she will say no, but she gives him a small nod.

“So do I.” His voice almost cracks with the admission.

“Guess we can’t avoid that.” “No.” “But we don’t have to be alone.” It’s a fact as much as it’s a suggestion.

“No,” the Doctor whispers again.

After he has changed into the pajamas Rose had somehow procured for him, he enters her room. Even though she asked him to come, he feels a little like an intruder. He can barely see it in the dark, but it doesn’t matter, because his eyes are only on her and the way she is lying on her side under the blankets. Her bed is just as big as the guest bed. (But tonight, it won’t be lonely.)

He slips under the blanket quietly. She is watching him, too. Maybe they are both worried the other will disappear. Just like before. Immediately, she reaches out for his hand again, as if any point of contact could miraculously keep him in this universe.

“Are you dreaming…” he says, swallows, doesn’t want to ask, but somehow has to. “Are you dreaming about him?” “Would you be upset if I was?” “All I want…” Why has it suddenly become so hard for him to talk? Each word is stubborn, doesn’t want to be spoken. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

“It’s just that he’s out there somewhere.” She gets choked up. “All on his own.”

“Not forever.”

It can’t be a promise, he knows that, but he wants to reassure her in any way he can.

“How can you know?” “Well. I’m tougher than I look.”

“I know.” He runs his fingers over her arm, watching where her eyes glint in the dark. “At least he has Donna,” she whispers.

His throat gets tight.

“He doesn’t.” She props herself up on one elbow.

“She… She couldn’t have lasted long, with all that Time Lord knowledge in a human brain. It would have burned her up. The only way to save her would have been to erase any memory of me – of the Doctor from her mind. She’ll have forgotten him by now.” “Oh,” she sounds shocked. He’s mucking things up again. He’s not making her feel better, he’s making everything worse. And suddenly the thought of Donna presses down on him, so hard that he drops on his back instead of facing Rose. Donna’s voice in his head when he found out she really thought of herself as unimportant echos in his mind.

“She’s – it was all my fault,” he confesses. He wouldn’t blame her if she resented him for it, not only for ruining Donna’s life but also that of the other Doctor. His very existence brought nothing but trouble, has made everyone unhappy. Even Rose, because he knows, just knows she would be happier if she was back on the TARDIS, if there was only one of him. “If it weren’t for the metacrisis – if it weren’t for me -” “Then she would be dead,” Rose interrupts, “the Daleks would have destroyed the TARDIS with Donna in it.”

Automatically, he opens his mouth to protest, but finds that there’s nothing he can say.

“I miss her,” he says instead. “She was my best friend. And the TARDIS. She’s gone from my mind.” “The telepathic link -”

For a moment, he reaches out with his mind, but there’s no one there. No Time Lords, no TARDIS. The problem with splitting yourself in two is that you only get to live half a life. (He didn’t expect the loneliness.) “Gone.”

A tear rolls from his eye, but it’s okay. She can’t see it in the darkness.

That’s not all he dreams of, of course. There isn’t a man in the universe with more regrets. (Not in this one, anyway.) How many people have died in his arms? How many have died because of him? How many times did he hope only to have it ripped away from him again? When he closes his eyes, he sees the world burning and it’s him that set it on fire. And it always has been.

But he can’t tell her that. Not yet. Not tonight.

Instead, he pulls her into his arms in the darkness and she presses herself to his chest. The world is small enough not to get lost in. And that night, both of them sleep soundly. ***

The next morning, the Doctor wakes up alone, but he isn’t overly anxious about it. He thinks about the whole time he’s getting dressed. He will get a job. In fact, he could work with Rose at Torchwood. That does seem to be where his expertise lies. Well, one of his expertises at least, the alien one.

He wants to take Rose on another date. He wants to go to the movies or the zoo or to get ice cream or chips or wherever humans go when they can’t take their eyes off one another.

He nearly starts whistling before he enters the dining room, but he doesn’t and that’s why he hears someone say his name on the inside.

“How are you and the Doctor doing?” Innocuous question, but something still gives the Doctor pause. He waits with his hand on the door handle.

“Fine.” It’s Rose’s voice. “I mean, I don’t know. It’s really… confusing.” Confusing. That’s okay, he’ll take that. He can deal with confusing. Loads of people have been confused by him in the past.

“Do you love him?”

Ah, he should step back, he should really go before she answers, but suddenly he is rooted to the spot, for the whole long moment she hesitates to answer. “I love the Doctor,” she says then, and the breath catches in his throat, “I don’t think I could ever love anyone else.” She says it with conviction, the way people who are in love tend to do. One love is always the one and only love, the last love, at least until the next one comes around. But if anyone is going to mean it, it’s Rose Tyler about the Doctor. Her Doctor. The one who has abandoned her.

For a dreadful, lovely little while he’d really forgotten. That now he would have to make do with half a life. And Rose is making do with half a man. If she ever loves him, it must be like falling in love with a memory. She is never going to say it back. She will allow him to love her, graciously, quietly, but she will never say it back.

He takes a deep breath and steels his shoulders. He won’t run away from this. He has braced himself against worse before. How foolish it had been of him to think she just needed time. What she needs, what she truly needs, is the other Doctor.

He pastes on a smile before he opens the door. Of course, Rose can tell his fake smiles from his real ones, but she won’t comment, assume it’s his general inability to adjust to his new situation. Which isn’t so far from the truth. (She was right when she said he was a thief. If she ever feels anything toward him, they will be stolen affections, belonging to another man. Except for her resentment. That one belongs rightfully to him.)

“Morning,” he says brightly.

The room falls quiet instantly, but he ignores it and saunters into the room, like nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. “Banana?” Rose asks and smiles at him. She really shouldn’t do that. It only makes him feel things he shouldn’t.

“Nah, thanks,” he declines. What right does he have to like bananas? Maybe bananas don’t want to be liked by a man like him. He’ll just have a pear instead. Those deserve no sympathy.

Rose’s kind eyes follow him when he walks around the dining table and picks up a pear. She’s concerned about him. She does care. That’s what she does, now. Make the best of a bad deal. *** “Oh, don’t tell me you’re drunk already,” Jackie tells him in the evening.

“Time Lords don’t get drunk,” he insists. A couple of her friends had come over earlier and then they’d opened a bottle of wine. The Doctor had also wanted a glass. Just to blend in, of course, and definitely not to wallow in self-pity. Time Lords don’t do that.

“Shame you aren’t one then,” Jackie says, “at least not completely.” Why is he even talking to her? Where is Rose?

He swirls around, or tries to, but the speed of it topples him over.

“You’re drunk,” Jackie accuses.

“It’s just this rubbish human coordination,” the Doctor says, “is what it is.”

Something of him is missing, he’s sure of it, though he can’t quite determine what it is. Maybe it’s his foot and that’s why he fell over. He slowly rights himself, but it’s surprisingly hard. (Possibly due to lack of foot.)

“Are you sure you can do this?” Jackie asks from very far away, probably a good few meters above him. “The slow life? The nine to five?” He manages to balance himself on two feet. Jackie is right in front of his face. Huh.

“I’m the Doctor,” the Doctor says confidently, “I can do anything.”

It’s a really bad moment to trip again, but evidently, his legs don’t care about that. Jackie holds out a hand for him, but there seem to be suddenly two of her.

“Zygon!” the Doctor yells. After blinking two times, there’s only one Jackie again. Still holding out her hand. “No, no, you’re not a zygon. Probably.” He waves his hand around dismissively and instead of grabbing Jackie’s, he leans back onto the porch, until his head hits the hard stone floor. “Don’t you worry about me,” the Doctor says. “I’ve got it aaaall under control.” Only that he doesn’t. Which is why he won’t be getting up again in the near future. It’s an important skill, that. To know when you’re beaten. He closes his eyes for a long moment and tries to swallow the bile rising in his throat. It’s bitter, all so bitter…

When he opens his eyes again, Rose is standing over him.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she says. But she’s smiling, always smiling. She’s far too nice to him. Cutting him slack.

“Well, it’s a nice floor.”

“Hope you’re not planning on sleeping here again. Believe it or not, but beds are actually more convenient for that.” “I would have to walk quite a way,” the Doctor says, feeling dizzy. “That’s not very convenient.”

“You’re right,” she answers and proceeds to lay down on the porch right next to him. They both look up at the stars. The not-quite-right stars. He would love nothing more than to get up close and personal with them to look for the differences. “Humans,” the Doctor says, like it’s something extraordinarily despicable, “they get goo in their eyes, did you know that? You wake up and there’s stuff in your eyes! How’s that practical?” “However will you cope?” She throws an arm over her forehead, like it’s a horrible tragedy. Which it is. She’s stuck her tongue between her teeth again, which he is absolutely certain she does only to torture him. Personally.

“I would watch a water tap drip for you, did you know that?” he asks quietly, looking back at the stars. They’re so untouchable, even though there’s not even a wall between them. Just space. Space upon space upon space. “I would sit here and watch a flower grow. If you asked me to.” “You’re drunk,” Rose says, which rings some sort of a bell.

“So they tell me.”

He wonders about whatever limb of his went missing. Something… Something went missing… But right now, right here, he’s not missing anything at all. “You make me feel whole,” he whispers. Even though she will forever be wishing he were someone else. “You make me feel whole…” It’s his last thought before he drifts off.

*** His head is pounding when consciousness drags him back by his lapels into miserable reality. He is in a bed, even though he distinctly remembers not falling asleep in one. It’s only when he’s half-way through brushing his teeth that he remembers what he said to Rose. That’s it. Alcohol is banned from this rubbish part human body. He never should have conducted that experiment in the first place. Now he’d gone and embarrassed himself in front of Rose. And told her things she really doesn’t want to hear.

He’ll stay here forever, he thinks while he is getting dressed, into borrowed clothes, and suddenly  he is horrified. In this house, in this bathroom. This is it. There’s nothing more, there is nothing to discover, there is just day by day by miserable day.

He will drown in a sea of sameness. He will die within a small amount of years, within hours, within seconds. And Rose will miss him, only she won’t be missing him, but a man a universe away.

He stops with three buttons still undone and doesn’t bother putting on shoes. He rushes down the corridor, past Jackie, who yelps and nearly drops her hairdryer. He runs out the front door and he has nowhere to go, but it doesn’t matter because all he needs is to get away. He runs like he is chased by a Dalek or a Sontaran or a man in a uniform. Luckily, what is chasing him is very, very slow – slowness itself, in fact, but that’s only reason to go faster.

Rose will only ever love him for everything he isn’t, if at all. There is nothing else for him in this universe. He runs past houses, past people who have no problem living slowly, past trashcans and street lamps. Past cars adhering to speed limits.

He runs out of breath fast, much faster than he is used to, but that only spurs him on to run through the pain. He only slows down once he is far from the mansion. Suddenly he can see it – what he’s been looking for, for centuries, only seeing it through the eyes of his companions. The whole universe blaring at him. The crispness of fresh morning air burns through his lungs with every gasping breath he takes. A butterfly flutters by in a flash of blue. A woman walking her Golden Retriever. Dew glitters in the grass. And on the horizon shines the sunset, dunking the whole sky in orange and pink and yellow. He hasn’t watched a sunset in such a long time. After all, who needs to watch a sunset when you can visit a thousand suns? But it’s beautiful. He can see it all, how beautiful and precious this world is. This is why they are all here - to bear witness to it. This is why he is here.

It’s his world, now. All the world he gets.

Still catching his breath, he sinks against the nearest building and just watches. He must be watching for a long time, because when he takes his eyes off the sunset again, it’s to see Rose step out of a taxi.

For a moment, it looks like she’ll yell at him, which is fair enough, but when she sees him, her shoulders drop.

“Are you okay?” she asks instead of yelling. “I’m fine.” She gives him a look like she doesn’t believe a word. “Well, I wasn’t a minute ago,” the Doctor amends. “I might have… panicked again. A little bit.” “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” She sounds a little scared.

“About you?” He looks at her fondly. “Never.”

“Yeah, but staying in one place, you know, domestic. Is that what you want?” “That’s not what I was running from.” He takes a deep, bracing breath. He should be honest with her. “Me and you, living the slow life. I think I was running from… the prospect of not getting it.”

The thought that he would never have it, not with her by his side, is torturous.

“But we’re in this together now, isn’t that what we said? Why are you scared? You can have that.”

The corners of his mouth turn down with the pain of it. “Not really. Not in the way I want.”

Rose, in front of him, is in the same universe, but worlds away.

“Why not?” she asks gently.

“Because – because I’m not him. I’ll always be… your second choice. And no matter how happy I am, I’ll always remember that.” She looks at him with immeasurable sadness in her eyes, which is not what he wanted at all. He wants her to look at him the way she used to. He wants to see that spark in her eyes again. He should have pushed her away, when she had kissed him on the beach, so she could have run after the TARDIS. He shouldn’t have been so bloody weak.

“I’m sorry -” Sometimes he can’t stand her empathy, her stubborn kindness. “It’s not your fault,” he quickly interrupts. “It’s… fine. I just need some time.”

Some time to accept he’s not who he used to be. And that he can’t ask her to treat him the same. She looks at him and sees double – and he understands. He really does.

“No,” she says firmly, “I’m sorry I ever made you think… I made you feel this way. And you’re right, I can’t forget him. He’s… well, he’s you. It would be incredibly hard to love one without loving the other.”

It’s not that he minds that. It’s that, if the other Doctor came back, she would choose him. That’s the persistent and unbearable fact in the back of his mind.

“But you can’t,” he chokes out, even though he doesn’t mean to.

She tilts her head.

“Love me,” he adds.

“Why would you say that?” She seems heartbroken over him. This might be the worst part. His whole existence is breaking her heart.

“It’s what you said, you said…” He’s becoming a little uncertain now. “I heard you.” In fact, those words won’t stop ringing in his ear. “You said you could never love anyone but the Doctor.” Rose steps toward him carefully and reaches for his hand. Stop touching me, I can’t take it, stop being so bloody kind -

“And you are the Doctor, stupid,” she says.

“Oh,” he says softly, then, “Ohhh.”

That puts a different spin on things. Not just things, everything really. And everything is spinning, a little, except for her face. He doesn’t care. He is the Doctor and she loves the Doctor. It’s mad. It’s completely non-sensical.

“Only you,” she chastises. Then her voice becomes heavy with emotion. “I couldn’t accept it at first, because I was being stupid. But… you stayed for me. Of course I love you.”

The world is spinning. He needs something to hold on to. He grabs her hand and it’s the one thing steady in this whole universe. Entirely against his will, a tear rolls down his cheek and then another one.

“What -” He stops and gathers his breath. “What’s that? Why am I crying?”

“It’s a human thing,” she whispers very close to his face, “it means that you’re happy.” She puts one hand on his cheek and one over his ear and then she presses her lips to his. She kisses him just like she did on the beach, but this time it’s not a spur of the moment decision with disastrous consequences. This time it’s full of promise. He wonders if she can taste his tears in her mouth.

It means that you’re happy.

Astonished, the Doctor looks inside himself, into a place he’d thought empty, and finds that she’s right. He really is.