#and the way people have talked about the SA made me even more unwilling
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variousqueerthings · 2 years ago
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and tonight for the first time! we watch the original exorcist!
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mammonshuman92 · 3 years ago
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- It Takes Two - Pt. 2
(Mammon x Gn!MC)
Genre: angst to fluff (the fluff is coming I promise lol)
Warnings: cheating, not proof read , if i missed any TW’s I apologize
“We’re a little busy right now.” A familiar voice, biting and arrogant, came from his lap. His eyes widened, whipping his head around to look at you in his lap. Except it wasn’t you. It was her. His heartbeat accelerated as panic began to set in.
“No, no, no, no, no.” He chanted, standing up in an instant, causing the succubus to fall to the floor with a thud and a few profanities. As events began to unfold and the puzzle pieces started fitting together; when it was already too late, he realized what he’d done. A hard lump instantaneously forming in his throat. He turned to you, eyes wide with terror, hands on either side of his head tangling in his hair.
“MC..I..I-It’s not wh- I thought-” He choked out.
He followed your line of sight, which was glued to his undone pants and obvious arousal. With shaky hands and fingers unwilling to cooperate, he fumbled with his zipper, struggling to get it up. Arms from behind snaked around his middle, gently clawing at his chest. 
“Shall we finish what we started?” She hummed seductively, staring daggers directly at you.
You shook your head, a sob escaping your lips as a fresh wave of tears streamed down your cheeks. You brushed past Asmo, disappearing out the doorway.
What’s goin’ on..? ...This can’t be happenin’..
He shoved the girl’s arms off of him without saying a word, a scowl spreading across her face. He made a beeline for the door, Asmo quickly stepping in front of him to block his way. “Don’t. You’ve done enough..” With venom lacing his tone, he looked the succubus up and down. He turned his glare on his brother for just a moment, the utter disgust they held was evident, before running out the door after you. As his figure disappeared, Mammon could feel the reality, the weight of the situation setting in.
His heart was pounding against his ribcage, breathing becoming erratic. The lump in his throat was unwavering, choking him as tears streamed down his cheeks. The gravity of it all bringing him to his knees.
“How moving.” The voice behind him scoffed, reminding him of her presence, “It almost seems like you love them.”
His head whipped around to see her, lounging casually on the sofa as if nothing had happened.
“You.” He growled, harshly wiping his face with the back of his hand as he stood up.
 “Stay the fuck away from me!” He snarled.
She laughed lightly as she stood from the couch, crossing the floor until she was right in front of him. “Don’t be like that. Ten minutes ago you were ready to nail me on that couch.” She purred, her finger trailing down his chest, quickly moving lower. Like a flash, he grabbed her wrists and held her hands up in the air in front of her.
“Let me make one thing very clear to you right now. I don’t want ya. I only made out with you and shit because I thought ya were MC. I would never willingly do anything to hurt them.” He glared at her, making sure she caught that emphasis, before dropping her hands. “Your jealousy bullshit, and making moves on me while I’m drunk just made me lose the one thing that has ever been good about me..” He trailed off, releasing his grip in her.
She rolled her eyes, “Why are you getting so worked up over a human? There’s nothing special about-”
“Excuse me?” He growled. 
Mammon has always been the level-headed one when it comes to altercations, believe it or not. He never usually lets his anger get the best of him. After thousands of years of being the scummy brother, the thief, the loser, he got used to just letting people’s words fall upon deaf ears, so to say. But, that was not the case this time. You see, anyone could say whatever they wanted to about him, he didn’t care. He could handle whatever was thrown at him. 
You, on the other hand? Well, you’re flawless. In every miniscule way, you were perfect. That’s not saying that you don’t make mistakes, or drive him crazy sometimes, but to him there was absolutely not a thing about you he would change. Everything you did, everything you were, was absolutely immaculate.
Rage bubbled in his gut.
Leaning in closely, he towered over her, radiating ire. “I’m not gonna sit here and discuss why you’re wrong, seein’ as how it’d take all day, but what I am gonna to say is for a lesser demon, ya might wanna reconsider who you’re talking to. He spat, “Say one more thing about MC, and it’ll be the last time ya speak..” He whispered, glaring at her for a moment before taking a step back.
“Stay away from me and MC.” He warned once more, daggers in his eyes as he turned and bolted through the door.
If he had any shred of hope left, it was that you would talk to him and let him explain everything. He knew it was shitty, after everything that just went down, to even consider the possibility of you forgiving him, but he held onto that little shred of hope. Had he been in the right state of mind, had she not taken advantage of the situation and the state he was in, he would’ve never even stayed in the same room with that girl, much less go as far as he had.
He felt awful. Whether he was so drunk he was convinced it was you on his lap or not, he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. After seeing the horror, the heartbreak on your face; the tears that stained your cheeks because of something he’d done, he kinda didn’t want you to forgive him. He didn’t want to lose you, couldn’t imagine continuing on without you in his life, by his side. But if you hated him now, he wouldn’t blame you. He deserved it. And he would live with it for the rest of his existence, knowing that he messed up his only chance at true happiness; at spending his life with his soulmate.
-
You bobbed and weaved as quickly as you could through the crowd of club patrons, needing to get far away from here as fast as you could, as your impending breakdown was sure to be a sight to see.
You were already so out of it; physically present but mentally, your brain had already shut off. Not quite sure how to handle the current situation. All the faces in the club were just a blur; you could feel the bass of the music reverberating inside your chest, but you couldn’t hear anything. Kind of like when you’re somewhere so quiet, the absence of sound feels so heavy, deafening.
You had to get out of here. Heart hammering wildly, you felt as if you couldn’t breathe; like the walls were closing in on you. A panic attack was setting in. Finally free of the sea of people, you darted out the front door of the establishment, running as fast as your legs would take you back to the House of Lamentation. Hoping that no one else would be home to see you; becoming witness to your unraveling.
-
*bing*
*bing, bing* *bing*
Your D.D.D. continued going off with near constant notifications well into the night. You could’ve just put it on silent, but you just couldn’t seem to move, frozen by heartbreak. Apparently several pictures were going viral on Devilgram, leaking this rumor and that regarding the second born and the succubus. Further making you look and feel like a complete fool.
Mammon had also been blowing up your phone since you made it back to the HOL. He had even come by your room in an attempt to talk to you but once he realized the door was locked, which had never happened the entire time you’ve lived here, he sat outside the door begging you to open it as loud sobs escaped him. As much as you wanted to, you didn’t budge.
Of course you still love him. How could you not? Hearing his desperate pleas and heartbroken sobs was almost too much for you. Although you were the one who had been betrayed, you wanted nothing more than to fling the door open, latch yourself onto him and never let go. But you couldn’t. Cheating is a dealbreaker. It’d happened before, in previous relationships, but shit this one hurt so bad, worse than any other heartbreak you’d had.
He had his faults, much like everyone, but he was so perfect for you, and treated you like you’d always dreamed. This couldn’t really be the end could it? Over, just like that? Completely smitten and in love two days ago, to heartbroken, crying on the bathroom floor. 
How are you supposed to move on from this? He’s your best friend. Or, was. How are you supposed to pass him in the hall, or eat dinner, or have House movie nights in the common room? How are you supposed to act like you're not still in love with him..?
-
The next week was pretty rough, to say the least.
You stayed locked away in your room when you weren’t at RAD; replaying the moment you saw them together, crying until the tears no longer fell; effectively torturing yourself. They’d all come knocking at your door countless times, trying their best to make you feel better. And while you appreciated it wholly, it didn’t help.
Avoiding Mammon was probably one of the hardest things you’d ever done, seeing as how you kinda live together. While it was extremely hard not to just run up to him and latch onto him like you always did, it seemed harder to just avoid him in general. 
During the first few days, he left small presents outside your door, had a couple of his brothers slip you notes, and waited for you after class a few times. After using every ounce of your willpower to avoid him, he left you alone. He still messaged you several times a day though, apologizing profusely, begging you to talk to him.
But, it was better this way right? Like ripping off a band-aid? 
That’s what you’d always heard anyway. Instead of asking questions and demanding answers as to why someone else chose to hurt you, you just cut it off right there, ghosting them; removing yourself completely from their life. Because if they truly cared, really loved you, they wouldn’t make the conscious decision to do something that they know would hurt you, that stepped outside the boundaries of your relationship. Their reasoning doesn’t matter. Aside from living in the same house and attending the same school, you had pretty much ghosted him.
In public anyway. In the privacy of your room, where you could feel everything to its fullest, you’d spend hours going through pictures, skimming Devilgram for any new gossip about the two of them. Re-reading your old text messages, finger hovering over the send button of the text you’d typed out a hundred times before deleting it and tossing your phone, a new wave of tears pricking your eyes.
-
Unable to sleep, he’d tossed and turned in his bed so much that his body ached and one of the corners of his sheet had popped off the bed. With a heavy sigh, he rolled over and grabbed his D.D.D. off the nightstand. Squinting his eyes harshly when he unlocked the phone.
“3:41am” He groaned, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand. He turned back over, facing the empty side of his bed. Sure, he didn’t often share it before you, but once you started sleeping together, he wasn’t sure how he’d ever slept before you came along. It just felt right. Your body molded against his, sleeping peacefully in his arms.
His hand trailed down the cold, empty sheets; the slight disruption releasing your smell. A hard lump formed in his throat as tears pooled behind his lash line. He sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. With a heavy sigh, he stood up and grabbed a pair of pajama pants, making his way to the door. If he had any hope of being able to fall asleep again, he’d need some help drowning his thoughts.
He quietly made his way to the kitchen, fully intending to turn up the bottle of Demonus Lucifer kept hidden in the dark recesses of the pantry. As soon as he stepped foot in the kitchen, he froze.
It had only been seven days, but it felt like a lifetime. Seven days without being in the same room as you for more than just a moment before you ran in any direction as long as it was away from him. Not that he could blame you. He wanted to run away from himself..
Which is exactly what he was determined to do with Demonus, had he not stumbled upon you sitting with your back to the fridge, crying into a half eaten container of chocolate frosting. 
Immediately alerted to the figure in the doorway, you jumped up, attempting to wipe at your face as you muttered an apology, but paled when you saw who it was that disturbed you. You slowly sat the container on the counter, keeping your eyes fixed on the man in the doorway.
What was left of his heart, shattered at the sight of you. Your eyes were puffy and red with dark bags underneath them. The same eyes that looked at him with such deep burning love, were now dull and lifeless as you stared at him. You were visibly broken, anyone could see that. He was the reason you looked like this; like an abandoned puppy, beaten and abused. He hated it. Hated himself.
He moved out of the doorway and into the kitchen, freeing up the only way out in case you wanted to run. Not that he blamed you. If he could run from himself right now, he would.
But, now you were in the same room together for the first time in a week and he didn’t want to waste the opportunity. Maybe if he just started talking you would listen, even just a tiny bit to what he had to say.
“MC, I-”
“Don’t.” Your voice trembled slightly as your eyes began to sting.
“Please, just hear me-”
“And what are you going to say, hm? That you’re sorry? Sorry you did it, or sorry you got caught?” You hissed with tears in your eyes. Mammon slightly recoiled from the tone of your voice, a tone he’d never heard from you. You hated being this way; angry and bitter, wanting him to hurt like you did. It was surely petty, but you didn’t care.
“MC, listen, I swear I didn’t do anythin’, okay? I was still goin’ strong from an all night drinkin’ binge, an-and she just showed up in the VIP lounge. I told her to fuck off but she didn’t listen. I was already pretty out of it when things started happenin’ and I thought it was you. I thought it was you the whole time! I-I didn’t know it was her till I heard you and Asmo and realized what happened! She took advantage of the situation, of me bein’ way too drunk..” He was talking so fast, trying to get out the words he’d been wanting to say to you. 
Narrowing your eyes, you stared at him suspiciously.
What if he really didn’t do it on purpose..? If all of that is true, it would explain why he looks so rough..
Having barely stayed in the same room as one another for several days and not wanting to look at him, wanting to remain strong and now cry in front of everyone, you hadn’t noticed but how awful he looked as well. He clearly hasn’t been sleeping well, judging by the giant bags under his eyes. Not to mention that he is also currently awake at 4am, looking just as much like shit as you did.
“Then why is it all over Devilgram that it’s been an ongoing fling?” You questioned, a few tears escaping.
“I would never do anythin’ like that, MC! She’s just jealous or somethin’, I don’t know what her issue is.. But, I-I love ya, more than anythin’ in the three realms. Even Goldie!”
You could feel yourself caving in with every word he said. It made sense, judging by how she’d randomly confronted you after school that day after whispering about you with her friends all day, it seemed like jealousy could be plausible. But what proof did you have? It was his word against what you saw with your own eyes. Not to mention everything on Devilgram.
“Funny, from where I was standing, it sure looked like I was the last thing on your mind.” You hissed, causing him to flinch; but he wasn’t backing down yet.
“Just let me prove it to ya, okay? I-I’ll do whatever I gotta do. Please, MC?” His deep, sapphire blue eyes bore deep into yours; the sorrow, the agony they held was immense. The crack in your armour deepened.
He could see that you were wavering, but that you were hesitant, scared to believe him; to trust him. He couldn’t blame you. If he were on the other side of all this, he wouldn’t believe his words either. He didn’t expect you to just hear him out then jump into his arms and ride away into the sunset. He knew better. He knew he’d have to prove it. He was more than willing to do whatever it would take for you to trust him again, to believe that he’d never hurt you intentionally.
He took a step toward you, careful and anxious, as if you would bolt if he moved too suddenly. He reached out for your hand slowly, reluctant at first but upon realizing how much you’d missed his touch as his warm, much larger hand enveloped yours, you caved so easily.
He squeezed your hand lightly, looking down at your entwined fingers, gently rubbing the side of your thumb. You felt something wet hit your hand a couple times, realizing quickly that they were tears, you attempted to swallow the lump in your throat that was quickly forming.
“Please? I’m miserable without ya..” He asked, voice cracking slightly.
Even after everything that’s happened the last week, you couldn’t stand to see him in such pain; miserable and broken. Just like you.
Sure, he was always stand-offish about his feelings and the like before you got together, but once it was all official, that was it; the walls came down. There had never been a single time that he lied to you or went behind your back with anything. He lasted exactly twelve minutes after buying your birthday present before he couldn’t take it anymore and spilled the beans. 
He’s always a goofball, sometimes has bad timing and isn’t always the best with words, but he’s never given you a reason not to trust him before; he’s never been anything but an amazing boyfriend that genuinely tries his hardest to make you happy.
“One.” You whispered, barely audible. His head snapped up, deep blue eyes scanning yours. You closed your eyes, taking a deep, yet shaky breath.
“One chance. That’s it.”
No sooner than the words left your lips, Mammon was pulling you flush to his chest in a bone crushing hug. Had you not been utterly craving his touch, to be held by him, you would’ve pushed him away. That’s what you told yourself anyway.
“I won’t make ya regret it, MC.” He earnestly swore, squeezing you gently.
For the sake of your heart, you hoped he was right.
~ taglist ~
@ithinkimdekubutreallyimdenki
@maybe-nott
@bandaged-despair
@bokuto7stan
@aliackerman
- part three coming soon -
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pilferingapples · 5 years ago
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pILF TELL ME MORE ABOUT WATERLOO BEING A DODGE AGAINST THE CENSORS PLEASE
ALLRIGHT:D
Hugo knew, of course, that he was in bad favor with NIII’s regime. And Les Miserables , while overtly about pre-NIII days and thus defensibly not about the current political situation
well, of course it is  about the current political situation. There are even a few points where Hugo slips in a Very Pointed Comment.  And the whole political point of the novel, as directed at a contemporary audience, was of course a call to arms and a rally for a republican uprising. Some of the reason Les Mis is the way it is is because Hugo was trying to get that rallying call across really clear  while also not getting immediately  censored and banned and having to go back to smuggling his work across the border. (the political point of the novel is, of course, not the only  point, there are like eighty things going on in Les Mis. But it was the part that Hugo was worried about getting censored and so the part he had to work to protect!) 
He was unwilling to cut the political argument; he was (rationally!) worried about getting banned. What to do? 
WATERLOO TIME !!
Waterloo gave the French the victory back from that big defeat–or at least took it from the English and their allies. It also  specifically gave shoutouts to some of the big political families .  As Hugo said to Albert Lacroix on the 8th of May (1) : 
“If we give quotes, insist on Waterloo, bring out (focus on) what the book has of the national (cause/identity), what stirs the French fibers(/soul), make Persigny ashamed to stop a book in which justice is finally done to Ney, grandfather of his wife, make the seizure impossible by saying it is the battle of Waterloo won by France, etc
”
Still, Hugo worried, as he said in a letter of May 1862: 
“ As far as Paris is concerned, it seems to me that the friendly newspapers are silent while the enemy newspapers attack. Where does it come from? Is there any order from somewhere? You know we can go as fast as we want. Brussels has the whole manuscript. Give me some details about what’s happening in Paris. Is there an underside of cards (/something in the cards; basically, are there secret orders or threats going around)?”
(He may well have been right; a government  like Napoleon III’s , in a city like Paris was at the time, doesn’t have to print public announcements to let word get out that it would be a bad idea to speak up on this or that issue. But that’s speculation ,so moving on–)
You know how people (including me, hi!)  sometimes talk (and complain, again hi)  about what a tonal shift it is to move from the barricades to the very limited domestic world of the Pontmercy household ? Yeah Hugo knew he was doing that, he wanted to use  it: 
M. Lacroix had to talk to you about a big question. Some passages in what will come seem dangerous (I am afraid that M. Lacroix has made some imprudent communication). I am asked for deletions (only for publishing in France)
 Another question: would not it be good to also publish the last four volumes en bloc? Less tugging and the effect of the barricade a little dampened by the effect of the denouement which is intimate and in tears. Weigh. Decide.”
Hugo needed the readers to love the Amis, who he wrote to be “the apotheosis and the triumph of the republic”, emotionally invest in them, and rally with them–and he needed the authorities to totally miss that happening. He knew the barricade would get kind of “dampened” by the following chapters–not an effect an author would normally want for their big grand setpiece! But he was counting on it, he needed the plausible deniability.  
I don’t at all mean to suggest that Hugo wrote Waterloo as pure censor-chaff, or that he didn’t like the ending he wrote on its own, or anything. He wanted to say what he said!  He wanted to write that bit of history himself and his Waterloo Thesis Statement is a repeated theme in his work, he definitely Cared about it for its own sake! And Victor “king of human tears” Hugo could never pass up a Tragic Heartfelt Denouement. But Les Mis was a protest novel that had to convincingly deny its own nature, a call for a revolution that had to time warp 30 years for the call to be allowed through. That affected the way it was written —lines included, names mentioned or dropped, the almost complete silence about national politics post-barricade– and it affected the way the book was published, marketed and sold. 
And of course it worked! The book didn’t get made contraband! Very Smart Critics immediately started satisfied huffing about how Hugo didn’t really  make any specific  political arguments, despite the book explicitly calling for socialist republican revolution.  And the popular audience, who Hugo had really wanted to reach, and who he’d trusted to know what he was about, Got It. Enjolras was quoted by people fighting for their own representative governments the way protest movements now use Do You Hear The People Sing.  
..And all this so today a casual reader can say “lmao why do we have to read the Waterloo digression” :P
French quotes under the cut :
1.
Si l’on donne des citations, qu’on insiste sur Waterloo, qu’on fasse ressortir ce que ce livre a de national, qu’on remue la fibre française, qu’on fasse d’avance honte Ă  Persigny d’arrĂȘter un livre oĂč il est rendu enfin justice Ă  Ney, grand-pĂšre de sa femme, qu’on rende la saisie impossible en disant que c’est la bataille de Waterloo rĂ©galĂ©e par la France, etc.
2.
. Pour ce qui est de Paris, il me semble que les journaux amis se taisent pendant que les journaux ennemis attaquent. D’oĂč cela vient-il ? Y a-t-il ordre de quelque part ? Vous savez qu’on peut aller aussi vite qu’on voudra. Bruxelles a tout le manuscrit. Donnez-moi quelques dĂ©tails sur ce qui se passe Ă  Paris. Y a-t-il un dessous de cartes ?
M. Lacroix a dĂ» vous parler d’une grosse question. Quelques passages dans ce qui va venir semblent dangereux (j’ai peur que M. Lacroix n’ait fait quelque communication imprudente). On me demande des suppressions (seulement pour l’édition en France). Vous verrez, vous consulterez MM. Claye et Pagnerre, intĂ©ressĂ©s, je ferai ce que, vous et Meurice, vous conseillerez. Autre question : ne serait-il pas bon de publier aussi les quatre derniers volumes en bloc ? Moins de tiraillement et l’effet de la barricade un peu amorti par l’effet du dĂ©nouement qui est intime et en larmes. Pesez. DĂ©cidez.
3Et puis, est-ce que les amis de l’ABC ne sont pas l’apothĂ©ose et le triomphe de la rĂ©publique ? (May, to Auguste Vacquerie) 
My primo source for Hugo Correspondence!
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pascalls · 4 years ago
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If I Tremble
Seymour Skinner is no coward. Except when it comes to... everything. More specifically, when it comes to figuring out the best way to confess his love. 
A Skinnerin fic for @rinnysega, featuring her ‘sona, Erin, and Principal Skinner going on a DATE. Also featuring Erin’s daughter Scottie and, of course, shamelessly, a little bit of my ‘sona, Charlie. This is sort of a follow up to a shorter fic found here. Click the read-more to dive in.
Music: If I Tremble - Front Porch Step
-----------------------
It had been a while since Seymour had last taken a sick day. Normally, even when he was at his lowest, he managed to slide out of bed and trudge his way to the school. Even if it meant simply sitting behind his desk with a trash can cradled in his lap, he still made the effort. But today

Today, he just didn’t feel like it.
He’d returned home fairly late the night before, having entertained the school nurse on a night out and away from the troubles of their personal lives. It was nearly morning by the time he’d collapsed into his bed, unable and unwilling to do much more than kick off his shoes before he was sufficiently unconscious. Nothing managed to convince him to leave the safety of his bed - not even his mother shouting at him from down the stairs - until it was well after noon. He’d very briefly come back around to let the Superintendent know that he wouldn’t be in, and then promptly put his phone on silent before drifting back to sleep.
As the sun shone brightly through his window, Seymour eventually managed to push himself into a sitting position. He was groggy and still tired, but he couldn’t convince himself to regret what he’d gotten up to the night before. If anything, it had solidified a few things in his mind. And once he was able to trudge to the bathroom and wake himself up with a long, thorough shower, those thoughts could not have been clearer.
He had spent far too long letting his feelings for the woman he loved be overshadowed by that of his boss. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t acknowledged that there was some competition over Erin’s affection. But Seymour had yet to pronounce himself as a real threat to Chalmers’ intentions. For fear of losing his job, for fear of losing the man’s respect (of which he still had, surely?), and for fear of having Erin realize that perhaps Chalmers was the one for her after all. But there was no victory in fear. He had always known as much. It had simply taken a night of backsliding inhibitions to remind him.
Now he knew: If he was to win her over, he’d need to actually fight.
Ignoring his mother’s questions, Seymour got himself dressed. A shirt and tie that varied from his usual attire, pulled together with a suit jacket that he saved for special occasions. He’d thought that the need for it would never arise again - but really, he’d just been afraid to pull it out, worried that he’d ruin the one good jacket he had. But tonight, he wanted to make it count. And he knew just the way to do it.
At least he hoped.
Despite his sudden surge of courage as he left the house and made his way to his car - still ignoring his mother’s upset tone - he still had his doubts. What if it didn’t make a difference? What if his bravery only further solidified Erin’s desire to go with another man? 
No, he reasoned. She wouldn’t.
-------------------------------
His first stop was the school, though he needed to stay inconspicuous, lest someone believe that he was playing hooky. He parked his car around the side of the building and pulled out his phone, sending a quick message which received a quick reply in return.
[ Hell yeah. ]
It took a few moments before Seymour was able to glance up and see the plague doctor - or nurse, as it were - hopping right out of the window in the nurse’s office and fumble down into the bushes. He booked it across the lawn and to the pavement where Skinner’s car was idling, hopping into the passenger seat with a clear display of energy that Seymour had to envy. Charlie didn’t look tired in the least. Maybe he was just more practiced at being out and about at all hours of the night.
“You figure out what you wanna do?” Charlie asked, rubbing his gloved hands together conspiratorially. 
“Yes. But I need you to babysit Scottie, otherwise I’ll never get her out of the house,” Seymour responded, reversing the car out of its secret parking spot and pulling away from the school. Luckily, they’d been able to get away unscathed. Hopefully no students would need the nurse for the rest of the day
 They’d need to rely on Doris’s greasy hands to bandage them up in the meantime. 
“I can do that.” Charlie set about removing his disguise and tossing it in the backseat of Skinner’s car. He’d retrieve it the next day when they both resumed their normal lives. “Whatcha got planned?” 
“First, I want to take her shopping for something nice. Then, I want to take her to this
 show I heard about last night while we were out. One of the ‘cool’ guys there handed me this.” With a little bit of fidgeting to find it, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and offered it to the hybrid who took it with interest. Unfolding it, Charlie gave a little snort of amusement.
“Doesn’t seem your style,” he said, glancing down at the flyer which showed a scribbled cartoony personification of what he imagined was some sort of indie punk band, as well as the details of when and where they would be playing. “But she might get a kick out of it, as long as she’s with you.” 
Seymour did his best to not be offended. “Then, a dinner somewhere
 I haven’t decided yet, but I wanted that to lead into us taking a walk around one of the nicer neighborhoods to look at the lights. Maybe one of the ones where they have those stupid competitions where people really go all out and
 run up their electricity bills, I imagine.”
“Casual dinner then,” Charlie offered up. “Something you can walk and talk with. Nothing that needs plates.” 
“Food truck food?” Skinner asked, eyebrows raised slightly as though he’d just come up with the suggestion. 
“Food truck food.”
“That solves that problem then. I was a little worried we’d GET to that part and I still wouldn’t know what to do.” 
Charlie gave the man a little ‘tsk’. “Even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you gotta pretend like you at least have SOME idea. The point is to make the whole night effortless. Not to the point where you seem like
 overly anal about scheduling, but so that she knows that you’re actually having a good time. And NOT thinking about what could go wrong.”
“...Right. Okay. I’ll try to remember that.”
“Good.”
-------------------------------
Even after they arrived at Erin’s, Charlie had to take a moment to keep Seymour from outright panicking. One pep talk later, and both of them exited the car and made their way to Erin’s doorstep. The hybrid offered Skinner an enthusiastic thumbs up. You got this, the gesture said. Don’t even worry about it.
Swallowing back his fear, Seymour rang the doorbell, hoping to God that his knees wouldn’t lock him in place as the door opened and Erin herself answered, balancing her daughter Scottie on her hip. 
“Seymour! Charlie?” Surprise and then confusion decorated her features. “Isn’t it a school day? What are you two doing here?” 
Seymour was silent for a moment too long, spurred into responding by Charlie’s elbow right in his ribcage. 
“Oh! Uh. Well. You see- I had been hoping that you would uh
 Join me! I have some plans for this evening for the two of us if
 you’re interested.” Seymour floundered obviously with his words, though thankfully, the hybrid kept his mouth shut and didn’t make it worse by calling him out on it. 
“And of course,” Charlie offered up, strolling past Seymour and scooping Scottie right up and into his arms. She squealed excitedly, immediately beginning to clamber up and towards his ears which she enjoyed tugging on from time to time. “The best babysitter in the world is here to keep an eye on this little animal.”
“Are- you sure?” Erin asked, taken aback by the suddenness of the proposition. She wasn’t exactly dressed for an evening out, having mostly spent the day in pajama pants and an old t-shirt, but
 she seemed to be struggling with at all considering giving Seymour a ‘no.’
“Positive. You two go on and have fun and Scottie and I will have a rager with at least six different types of liquor.” If Charlie’s smug grin didn’t give away the fact that he was joking, Scottie’s sudden yank on his ear would have. He wheezed a little, but maintained his expression. Kids. Adorable.
“O-okay! Well. Erm. Come in, Seymour, let me go and change!” Erin scooted aside to allow Seymour to step in which he did with some awkwardness, shutting the door behind them for the time being and watching as she fled down the hall to get herself into a different outfit. While he waited, Skinner stood fiddling with his tie. Nervous. But at least she hadn’t given him a no! That was
 something!
“Hey,” Charlie muttered to the man in a bit of a whisper, still trying to wrangle Scottie in his arms. “Relax. You like her, right? Act like it!” 
Seymour cleared his throat and replied under his breath. “Right. Right. Yes. Okay.” 
When Erin returned, Seymour found himself at a bit of a loss for words. Her outfit was simple - a warm looking sweater and jeans with a comfortable coat that seemed to be perfect for the late Fall weather that crept in towards the later hours of the evening. But she had a tendency to make even that look
 great. God, he was smitten. 
He shook himself out of his daze after a moment, offering her a little smile. “Well
 I’m ready if you are.” 
She nodded, returning his smile with one of her own that was certainly not lacking in enthusiasm. This whole date had been unexpected, but welcome. And even though she paused briefly to give Charlie a few instructions on where Scottie’s dinner was and what time to put her to bed, she was quick to return all of her attention on Seymour as they left the house and headed for his car.
“I’m kind of glad you came by, actually
” Erin said once they got inside and Seymour began to pull away. His movements were a little stiff, but he’d settled himself down some now that he’d managed to get a yes. “I’ve been wanting to see you, but I wasn’t sure how busy you were with your schedule and after school meetings and everything
” 
“After school meetings can be rescheduled,” he replied without thinking too hard about it. “I’m sure I can sneak away early on some days, if you’d like me to.” 
“Wouldn’t that get you into trouble?” She fretted, slightly, her mind venturing to what Chalmers might think if Seymour made a habit of slipping off right when the bell rang.
“Being Principal has to come with some perks, right?” 
Erin laughed a little, the very sound of which made Seymour smile. He couldn’t help it. Despite his worries and anxieties, it felt fantastic to make her laugh. 
“Alright,” she said, changing the subject and eyeing Seymour with excitement. “Tell me what you’ve got planned.”
-------------------------------
He’d forgotten the holidays were right around the corner. Of course. Stupid Seymour.
The mall was mostly packed and both he and Erin were finding it very hard to navigate from one store to another. She seemed to be a good sport about it, having been flattered at his offer to buy her a nice thing or two and doing her best to guide him around the throngs of other shoppers that seemed determined to purchase their holiday gifts even if it meant throwing an elbow or two. He had to keep from grumbling to himself about it, choosing instead to keep eyes on Erin as they walked. Even temperamental crowds of strangers wouldn’t put a damper on his mood. Not when he was with her. 
“You know,” she began when they’d hopped between a few different stores without leaving with any purchases in hand. “I’m honestly
 terrible at picking things out for myself.” She was sheepish about it, trying not to appear ungrateful as she pulled him aside where they wouldn’t be run over by passersby. “And
 really, most of my shopping I do online. We really don’t have to go shopping for me right now
 Especially not with all these other people here.” 
Seymour frowned slightly. “Are you sure?” He asked. For once, he’d been able to save up a few hundred dollars for a rainy day. Surely, this was something worth spending it on. She was worth spending it on. But he wasn’t interested in making her feel
 guilty. And really, he was dying to get back out and into the cool afternoon air that wasn’t stifled by hundreds of others fighting over the new iPhone. 
Erin had been about to nod in reply, but paused to glance behind Seymour for a moment. She realized then that they were standing across the walkway from the Stuff N’ Hug. And though she was not great at picking out gifts for herself

“Actually
” she said, grinning just a little. “I know something you can get for Scottie~.” 
Seymour turned and followed her gaze, swallowing back the tiniest bit of fear as he spied the Stuff N’ Hug which was buzzing with activity. Parents and little kids alike fluttered back and forth, participating in the bizarre ritual of stuffing empty plushies and getting a ‘birth’ certificate to prove it. Not that he was afraid to look silly or anything, but
 Navigating what looked to be like a small room full of toddlers was not his forte. Still. He was being asked. He’d need to nut up or shut up. 
“Do you know which one she’d want most?”
Erin seemed to think on that, squinting to get a decent view of what the store had for display in the window. “Oh! The frog!” She replied, pointing to a particularly bright neon-colored amphibian that sat, a little forgotten, behind the various other plushies in the window. “Those are her favorite.” 
“Okay. The frog it is.” Seymour took in a breath and steeled himself, his tone taking on a serious timbre that made Erin give a little quiet giggle. “You stay here. I’m going in.”
Seymour trudged across the walkway, narrowly avoiding being trampled by families of twelve or more that were making their way to the nearby food court and managing to arrive at the storefront mostly in one piece. Inside, there were even more obstacles to navigate: toddlers that were running around mostly unsupervised, parents that were struggling to keep their place in the checkout line, and tired workers that seemed to want to be literally anywhere else. Seymour didn’t pay any of them any mind. His goal was that frog. But when he got within a few inches of grabbing it, the stuffed animal was snatched up by another man, quick to offer Skinner a smirk of victory.
“Excuse me,” Seymour began, eyeing the man with clear disdain. “I was reaching for that frog first.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. It was in my hands first.” The other man gloated, waving the pre-stuffed plushie around as he did so. “Too bad, so sad.”
Seymour frowned, his expression serious and determined. “Yes, but you see, I need that frog.”
“So do I,” the stranger said, turning away with a haughty laugh. 
Though Seymour might have, at some other time, let him get away with it, he was loath to do so this time around. Especially not with Erin waiting eagerly across the walkway and with the knowledge that
 those were Scottie’s favorite.
Taking advantage of the crowd around them - all of which were too preoccupied with their own shopping to pay either of them much mind - Seymour reached to grasp the man by the shoulder and whirl him back around, his gaze threatening and voice kept low, but no less intense. “Listen, you. That frog belongs to me. And you are going to give it to me if you don’t want to be shipped out of here in a Stuff N’ Hug body bag.”
The other man stared at him with wide eyes, eventually shoving the frog into Seymour’s hands. “Okay, okay! Jeez.” Apparently being threatened over a frog was not on his list of things to do that day. 
Seymour, pleased with the victory, released the other man and let him go on his way. Even if that way meant that the man was going to continue shooting him with glares from across the store. Skinner didn’t seem to mind, holding the frog close to him as he made his way through the check-out line and eventually back out of the store, the stuffed frog nestled safely in a little cardboard box home, made perfectly for it. He was a little disheveled as he returned back to Erin, pausing briefly to try and smooth some of his hair back into place.
“One frog for Scottie,” he said as he held it out to her, an accomplished smile on his features. 
“I saw that you almost had to throw hands for it,” Erin replied, taking the box graciously from him. “You totally didn’t have to do that!” 
Seymour grinned a little sheepishly, knowing full well that if he’d been arrested for getting into a fight at the Stuff N’ Hug, it would’ve made for a pretty poor date story later on. But it had been worth the risk. “Well
 I mean
” He struggled to come up with words, but soon found that he didn’t need to. Leaning up on her toes, Erin pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, causing his face to redden as he cleared his throat, trying not to fall over entirely. 
“I’m glad you did,” she said.
-------------------------------
Leaving the stuffy confines of the mall was a relief, Seymour thought as they breathed in the cool, yet comfortable Fall air. It wasn’t too chilly out - just enough to need a jacket - but he figured it was much better than being trapped amongst the throngs of holiday shoppers. The frog he’d obtained for Scottie was now sitting comfortably in the backseat of his car, waiting to be taken back to Erin’s while they stepped away to the partially outdoor venue. The band he’d heard of was playing - some form of punk music that Seymour wasn’t explicitly into, but it was more than adequate background noise to keep the moments of silence between he and Erin from feeling overly oppressive.
“I don’t think I’ve heard of them before,” Erin said as they drifted over to where the small stage was harboring at least five of the six band members. They weren’t very close, preferring to stand away from what they assumed were the ‘hardcore’ groupies that grouped around at the foot of the stage. But they were close to the bar. “But I can see the appeal. Do you wanna get a drink?”
Seymour nodded, recalling the buzzy haze he and Charlie had mostly been in the previous night, and content with the idea that if he were to repeat the event - except this time, with Erin by his side - that would be just fine. Even if they weren’t exactly at a rave this time around. “I imagine they don’t exactly have scotch here,” he commented as they approached the bartender who looked to be at least twenty years younger than Seymour. He eyed the bottles behind the counter skeptically, but he wouldn’t let his hesitation keep him from enjoying himself.
“Too fancy to just have a beer?” Erin teased, nudging Seymour gently. 
“Of course not!” He balked, shaking his head in embarrassment and addressing the hipster bartender who probably put more grooming into his strange mustache than the rest of him put together.  “One beer, please.”
“What kind,” the bartender replied dryly. 
Seymour went silent, glancing around for some help or some indication of what kind he should choose. Meanwhile, Erin laughed, trying not to embarass him further, but likely failing. 
“Just give us two Duffs,” she offered to the bartender. “We probably don’t need to make it complicated.” 
Breathing out a little sigh of relief, Seymour allowed her to sort of take the lead on that one, placing down the few bills to cover the drinks before they were in hand and both he and Erin could step back towards the small crowd that had gathered. The deep thrum of the bass was comforting to him, somehow, and though the music was loud, it wasn’t to the point where he couldn’t have a conversation over it if he tried hard enough. 
“We don’t need to stay here the whole time,” he said to Erin, hoping that he wasn’t forcing her to remain watching a band that she wasn’t enjoying. “I have other things in mind for tonight. But I figured this was a nice
 segue into the evening. That’s all.”
Sipping at her drink, Erin seemed to not skip a beat, shaking her head and replying with encouragement. “No, it’s fine! I’m liking this. It’s not exactly something I would have found on my own, but you know me. I like to try new things. But, if I’m being honest
 This definitely doesn’t seem like your style. Where’d you hear about them?”
Seymour cleared his throat, taking his time in trying to come up with an explanation. He couldn’t really say that he’d pulled the flyer off of a light pole while he was walking down the street, now could he? That seemed
 too hard to believe. 
“Well
 Charlie and I had an after school meeting yesterday. It went a bit late and as we were walking afterwards, he pointed it out.” It was much easier to blame the hybrid. The band seemed like something that would appeal to him. Maybe. At least more so than it did Seymour. “I figured it couldn’t hurt to check it out. Maybe stay a while. See if it was something you’d like.” He added the snippet at the end, quickly occupying himself with a drink of his beer to keep from sounding like he was trying too hard to impress her. Of course, he was. But that didn’t mean he wanted it to come across so obviously. 
“Oh so it was Charlie’s idea, huh?” She said, lifting an eyebrow inquisitively. It always felt like she saw right through him. And maybe she did. But Seymour was going to pretend otherwise, nodding in return. 
“The band was. It was my idea to bring you to see them,” Seymour responded defensively. He didn’t need Charlie taking credit for the actual date too. The smarmy lizard was charming enough without Skinner’s help. 
Erin laughed again, sending Seymour’s heart aflutter once more. His mouth tilted upwards into a smile that he couldn’t fight, taking a step closer to Erin as a result as her laugh tapered off and she pressed her shoulder against him in turn. He wasn’t entirely sure if she felt it in the same way that he did, but he was pretty sure he was going to overheat, despite the cool air around them. She had a tendency to have that effect on him, no matter what they were doing or where they were. As he focused his attention on both her and the heavy thrum of the bass guitar, he was reminded of that familiar feeling of slowly cracking inhibitions, his hesitation melting away in that moment as he gazed down at her and imagined instead what it might have been like had he stolen away with Erin in the middle of the night to a muggy basement rave. Maybe she wouldn’t have taken to the idea
 But he could dream. 
Even if the music wasn’t particularly to his tastes, Seymour let himself enjoy it for the time being, sipping intermittently at his beer as more people drifted into the venue, crowding around the bar for drinks and wandering closer to the stage to get a look at who was playing. He was relaxing as time passed, though he couldn’t help but consider what time it was. The sun was beginning to set earlier this time of year, and once it had disappeared beneath the horizon, it would be perfect timing for them to make their way out and to the neighborhood that he’d picked out for them to see the lights. It was the perfect scenery for what he intended to do after that, though he had been trying his best not to focus on his end goal, for fear of overthinking it. He did that too often for comfort.
Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed that Erin was beginning to step back and away from the bulk of the crowd, reaching out to snag his sleeve and tug him back with her. He was confused, but followed, settling back against the wall of the nearby building with her as she breathed out a little sigh. 
“Sorry. I feel better when we’re not
 crowded by a bunch of other people,” she said. “Besides, it’s a little easier to talk when we’re not so close to the speakers.” Hesitating very briefly, she continued. “And um.. It’s also a little easier to not be so obvious about
 being a little more in your space.” 
Seymour blinked, almost not understanding before it clicked and he sputtered a little, embarrassed that he hadn’t realized. “...You can be as obvious as you want. I’m sure nobody here would mind
” Or maybe they would. He certainly wouldn’t though. “Actually
 if you want to have more time for just
 us, I think I can make that happen. We definitely don’t have to stay just because.” 
Tilting her head to the side curiously, Erin leaned away from the wall to face him properly. “If you’re offering, I’m not gonna say no, but
 I just figured since you planned this too and all
”
Scoffing, Seymour gestured to the band on the stage. “Are you kidding? I don’t even know these people.” He opted to take advantage of the brief moment of courage to take her hand in his free one, guiding her over to the bar where they left their glasses and then to the entrance they’d come in earlier. “Come on. I’ve got something much better to show you anyway.”
Her hand was incredibly warm in his as he led her back out to the car, pausing to open the passenger door for her, but not immediately letting it go. He didn’t want to. Her soft fingers in his larger, somewhat calloused hands were like a spark of electricity that he wanted to experience over and over. But as he closed the door behind her and went around to the driver’s seat, he knew that it was a sensation that he’d have to make happen again. No waiting for her to do it. Tonight was about taking charge. Like he had with the frog. Remember the frog.
That little neon frog would give him strength.
-------------------------------
About an hour later, that chilly evening air had turned a little more frigid, though not to the point where he might have turned tail and said they should call it a night. No, he was more determined than that, adjusting the small taco in his hands to make sure none of its contents were to unceremoniously fall out onto the sidewalk. Erin strolled alongside him, perfectly content with her food, munching happily as her attention drifted from it up to the lights around them, shielding them in a warm glow that made him feel like Christmas really was just a day or two away. There was a month yet to go, but Seymour felt like the winter break was already underway and he had no responsibilities beyond simply existing for the brief two weeks between Christmas and New Years. Maybe it had something to do with how just walking in happy silence with Erin at his side made him feel as though nothing could possibly go wrong, contrary to
 almost anything else in his life, really. 
“God, I’d give anything to have this much disposable income,” Erin said once she’d finished her taco and had begun to fully admire the decorations as they passed by. “Can you imagine dropping hundreds of dollars just for the outside of your house? I mean, the inside is enough for me to deal with, let alone all of these extra things
 But I guess once you dedicate yourself to it one year, the rest of the neighborhood doesn’t let you stop.”
“Mother would never let me put this many lights up,” Seymour replied, gesturing to one of the homes as they passed. “She says it draws too much unnecessary attention. She doesn’t want a bunch of ‘hoodlums’ coming by to ‘gawk’ at them.” 
“That’s a shame.” Erin had little to say on the topic of Seymour’s mother, and he didn’t fault her for it. By now, she was surely tired of him mentioning her at all. She’d said, once or twice - and in the kindness way she could possibly manage - that their relationship was not a healthy one. And he’d said that he’d work on it. But little had improved since then. He had been loath to mention her since then. But still
 old habits die hard. 
“But
 you know,” he continued. “It might be worth upsetting her once or twice if it means that I can get a little more festive around the holidays.”
Erin’s expression made it obvious that she appreciated the effort. But he could tell that a part of her still felt somewhat sorry for him. “I might be able to use some help around my house in the next week or so, putting up a few extra things on the outside. If you’d like to lend a hand.” She smiled and he knew that the offer was genuine. Not just out of pity. In truth, he would take any excuse to spend more time with her. Even if it meant getting on top of a ladder and risking his neck to string up some lights just to make her happy. 
“I think I can probably manage that. I’m a pretty good handyman, you know~”
His proclamation was probably dampened by the fact that the contents of his taco did indeed flop out of their tortilla wrapper and onto the pavement. Not exactly the smoothest move he ever made. Thankfully, Erin held back her laughter this time as he swiftly scooted the mess off of the sidewalk and onto the pavement of the street where it would hopefully get finished off by bugs or birds or
 whoever.
“I’ll take your word for it. But I’m sure we can manage it together.” She scooted closer, taking his hand this time in hers and forcing him to inwardly curse himself. Damn. She’d found the boldness to do it before he did. Which just meant that he’d have to make up for it. Somewhere. Somewhere

All around them, the houses were getting progressively fancier. Large, luxurious displays that surely had taken a professional in their setup. Seymour couldn’t imagine any normal homeowner with a day job would have the time or energy to create and organize such in depth lighting structures. Maybe he was a little bit jealous. He rarely had time or energy to spare. But that wasn’t his focus. Instead, he was searching for just the right spot. Waiting for just the right moment. Somewhere in the distance, the soft melody of Christmas music was floating from one of the nearby houses. And he could swear that if the weather got any colder, that they might be in for some snow. The atmosphere couldn’t have been more perfect. But where? When? Despite the chill, he was beginning to sweat. 
“...Are you alright, Seymour?” 
Her question shook him out of his mild panic, glancing down at her worried gaze that was focusing solely on him as they walked. Only
 he wasn’t walking anymore. He’d stopped entirely, her hand still holding his. Now he looked even more foolish. But despite his attempt to assuage both his and her fears, he couldn’t swallow back the panic that was beginning to creep up the back of his throat.
“I uh-...” He began, but was unable to find the words to continue. What was wrong with him? Was he really so nervous that he couldn’t even find it in himself to be normal? And walk with her like normal people did? Was he really so scared?
No, he realized. This was something else. Something he knew entirely too well, having only experienced it in totally dissimilar circumstances. He’d thought himself immune to sudden panic attacks in such a calm and serene environment, but with his anxiety levels spiking throughout the evening and his heart doing strange loop-de-loops in his chest, he knew that he’d really set himself up for it. He should have been focusing more heavily on staying calm; on maintaining his composure. But it was too late now.
“I
 I need to sit,” he wheezed, realizing that his legs were shaky and very nearly collapsed underneath him as he sunk down to the curb, clinging somewhat tightly to her hand as he did so. He didn’t want to hurt her, and once he was certain that he was at least not going to fall from a standing position, he released her hand and buried his face in his own. “Sorry- I
” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the statement. The words wouldn’t come, and not just out of nervousness then. He was struggling to breathe now, his chest heaving as he tried his best to come down from the height of the panic and failing miserably.
“It’s okay!” She replied in a quick, but gentle tone as she followed him down to sit right next to him. Concern and fear was in her eyes, but he couldn’t see it. Couldn’t look at anything just then, intent on letting the darkness from having his eyes closed be the only thing he saw. The less visual stimuli his racing mind had to rely on, the more it would - hopefully - settle. But as he counted the seconds between his inhales and exhales - an old trick he’d taught himself for just such an occasion - he felt her hand soft against his back, between his shoulder blades. She rubbed gently, quiet for the time being and just letting him ride the wave. 
“Take your time,” Erin continued, glancing around to see if anyone was approaching. But no one was. He was thankful that was the case. He didn’t need strangers witnessing his breakdown on top of everything else. “I’m not going anywhere.” 
The words were reassuring, but they didn’t stem the tide of what was already happening. It took several long minutes - minutes he was sure he would look back on later and hate himself for wasting - before he could feel his heartbeat beginning to slow. It wasn’t perfect. The steady thump was still painful in his chest, having only just stopped hammering. But it was progress. And as he slowly lifted his head to allow himself to take in the world around himself again, Seymour realized that there was a tear or two at the corner of his eye. He hastily brought a hand up to wipe it away, ashamed of himself for letting it get that bad, so quickly. 
When he could finally speak, his words were tired and little more than a murmur. But the hand against his back felt like a much needed brace, and he let it soothe him. Her touch was always soothing. Even if it took him a few minutes to come back down to a level where he could truly appreciate it.
“I’m sorry, I
 I didn’t expect for that to happen.” Seymour’s voice was groggy and tired. Panic attacks always did wear him out. It was as if he’d been running at a sprint for a full five minutes straight and was only now allowed to breathe. His chest would continue to ache for some time. “I just started thinking about
 too many things at once and it has a tendency to
 become a bit overwhelming. I didn’t mean to drag you down into it.”
Erin shook her head, reaching to place her free hand atop his, the warmth of her palm reminding him that he would be okay. “You absolutely did not drag me into anything. I’m glad I was here to at least sit with you until you were okay again. Was it something we did or
 something I said
?” Guilt was evident in her tone and Seymour suddenly felt a pang somewhere in his heart. Not the aftershocks of his panic attack; but an aching sensation. A fear that she could ever possibly consider that anything she’d do - or had ever done - would in some way hurt him. 
Resolute, he took her hand in his and brought his other to gently wrap both of his around her fingers securely. Like he was treasuring that hand of hers. And maybe he was. It had been her touch that brought him back around, after all. 
“Never,” Seymour said, his tired, still slightly watery eyes staring down at their joined hands. “It was nothing you said or did. I just
 I let my fears get the best of me. Like I always do.” He sighed, shame still coloring his vision and making him unable to look her in the eye. “I’ve been so wrapped up all evening in how to tell you what I’ve wanted to tell you for so long now and
 It just
 Scared me. And I know it shouldn’t. Because I’ve never been more sure about something in my whole life, and yet
” Trailing off, he was unsure of how to finish his sentence. 
“Seymour
” Erin murmured almost sadly, like she was still faulting herself. The wistful way she spoke his name was killing him. 
Why was he so afraid? Why couldn’t he step up and be a man for once? And just TELL her. 
Just tell her.
“Maybe I should say something first,” she eventually said as the seconds dragged on, his silence feeling almost like an undefeatable villain at that point. But he listened, still not quite looking up at her for fear that whatever was coming would not be good. 
He was vaguely aware that a gentle, quiet frost had begun to flutter down from the dark sky. But that didn’t really matter to him just then.
Erin spoke again, her voice quiet but not because she was timid. It was as though what she had to say was
 intimate. Meant only for him. He could hope. “This whole evening I’ve been sort of
 trying to tell you how I feel. At the mall and when we were watching the band and when we were waiting in line for food and
 and just now when we were walking, but
 I guess I just couldn’t figure out the right time. But I didn’t want you to think that I was
 specifically not telling you on purpose.” She fiddled with her hair nervously, though at least, he thought, she wasn’t having a nervous breakdown. 
“Erin-” he began, only to be interrupted by her.
“No, let
 let me finish. Look, I- This whole evening I’ve just wanted to come out and tell you. That I love you. I wanted to tell you totally in public and
 like it was the most casual thing in the world and like you already knew, but it just
 felt like a big deal! And I couldn’t get it out! But- I just did. So. There.” Her face was red, both from the cold and from the confession. But all Seymour could do was stare at her. Taken aback that it had not only had it not been him to make the first admission, but she had been just as nervous and flighty as he had!
“I- You- You’re
 not upset that I didn’t say it first?” He blurted out, realizing that it probably wasn’t the most ideal response to having someone tell you that they loved you, but
 He couldn’t help it. That was where his mind was at.
“...Why would I be? There’s not really a rule that says you’re required to
” Erin didn’t quite get his meaning. “I mean I know I sometimes wish you’d be a little more assertive with certain things
 Your mother, for one
 But that
 doesn’t really apply to something as important as this. I don’t think that should be
 one person’s responsibility or anything.” She mumbled the words at the end, a little embarrassed that he hadn’t said it in return at all. It was only after a few moments had passed that he came to the same conclusion.
“I am so stupid,” he exhaled, his shoulders slumping a bit in what was both relief and exhaustion. “This whole time I’ve been putting so much stock on being able to pick just the right moment; just the right place. I had it in mind that
 if I didn’t say it first that you
 would think less of me.”
“That is pretty stupid,” Erin replied, the smallest of smiles appearing on her features. 
“I know. I know that now. And you know what else I know?”
“What?” She feigned obliviousness. Sure that she knew what was coming, but enjoying the mild suspense anyway. 
Releasing her hand, Seymour brought both of his up to gently frame her face, his gaze finally meeting hers. His heart was still beating quickly, though it was much less painful now. His panic had given way to a soft haze of exhausted contentment. He was sure his hands were a bit cool as snow began to settle on them both where they sat, but she didn’t seem to mind. Even as her face reddened further in a deep blush that he would have to remember. 
“That today has really only reinforced the fact that I love you too. I’m not sure anyone else would have put up with me for as long as you have. Even when I plan terrible last minute dates, almost fight a man for a neon frog, take you to see a band that no one’s ever heard of, drop a taco in the street, or break down in the middle of a neighborhood that is way above my income level.” He was only really partially joking. But it was nice to hear that laugh of hers again, her eyes reflecting the soothing glow of the lights around them. “Despite all that
 Just to have you here, in this moment
 It’s all worth it.”
No more hesitation. Leaning forward he pressed his lips gently to hers, doing his best to keep himself from smiling as he felt her return the gesture, closing the distance between them. If the chill didn’t choose that exact moment to send snowflakes on the breeze to settle in their hair, he could have kept kissing her forever. But he wouldn’t keep her out in the cold all night. The idea of getting somewhere warm where he could hold her much closer was all too enticing.
They stayed there for a few more moments as the kiss broke, Seymour’s hand gently caressing her cheek before he was able to scoot himself up to stand again. His legs no longer felt like jelly, making it much easier for him to help her up to her feet. His moment of assertiveness came when he offered to take her back home and stay for a few hours.
When they returned back to Erin’s, Seymour allowed her to lead the way inside, removing his coat at the door and taking hers as well. In the living room, they found Charlie sprawled out on the couch, Scottie sleeping soundly on his chest. Both were seemingly knocked out, having had what looked to be a
 very entertaining evening, if the number of books, toys, and impromptu arts and crafts projects scattered about the place were any indication. Erin fought the urge to laugh and wake them both, instead leaning down to scoop Scottie up so she could place her into her room to sleep a little more comfortably. Meanwhile, Seymour stared oddly at Charlie who seemed to be quiet content on the couch. Like he was having the sleep of his life.
“Let him sleep,” Erin whispered as she returned. “I’m sure he doesn’t get to be this comfortable, usually.”
She motioned for Seymour to follow her to the bedroom where they could shut the door behind them, giving the hybrid his privacy and taking their own for themselves. A few hours would eventually turn into more-than-a-few, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms to fight off the cold that threatened to creep in from the window. And by then, Seymour opted to take initiative and stay the whole night.
He imagined she wouldn’t say no.
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a-strange-inkling · 5 years ago
Text
SASUSAKU MONTH DAY 2: Patterns
Rated T (for suggestive content and language)
Summary: Only in another life would Sakura ever hate Sasuke, and even then it’s debatable. Though in a different sky, the stars always follow the same pattern (RTN AU, First Chapter of Story that I’ve been working on) 
 Annoying
"You aren't mad at me, are you Sakura?" 
Ah. There they were. 
Uchiha Sasuke's infamous Puppy-Dog Eyes. 
Haruno Sakura held back a sneer as she turned her attention back to the romance novel she was currently indulging, not in the mood for any of her overly hormonal team mate's antics.  The sweet, childlike innocence in those round, onyx orbs of his was as sincere as a tray of fucking cheese. Sasuke knew better than anyone that she was mad at him. 
She was always mad at him. 
"Sa-ku-ra..." he cooed, trying again for her attention, speaking her name at a low and chilling octave, knowing she hated when he did that.
The Fourth Hokage's daughter only snorted at the sound of her name rolling seductively off his lips, before pivoting her entire body away from him, crossing her legs with a steely grace.  
Sasuke rolled his eyes, unable to repress the smirk that had been playing at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I must have really hit close to the mark this time, you're even pulling out your age-old Ice Queen persona." 
Sakura simply glared at the written text in front of her, refusing to get in yet another spat with the arrogant boy. However, the young Uchiha had not quite given up yet, he knew one particular trick that would get to the cold young woman.
"You know, no one has mastered the silent treatment quite like you, Sakura-chan."
"Don't call me that." Sakura hissed quickly, shooting him one of her nastiest looks. She never let him call her that.
Sasuke's smirk deepened. "Seems there is still some room for improvement though." 
"Look, there is a pair of breasts right over there, Sasuke!" she exclaimed with feigned excitement, pointing to a fairly pretty brunette who was making her way down the street. "Why don't you go bother them for a while?"  
Sasuke eyed the passing young woman thoughtfully, mildly interested, before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the spunky rosette. "Shouldn't do that, you might get jealous, then you'd be even madder at me." 
Sakura stood then, abruptly, closing her book with a resounding snap, as she put distance between herself and the young Uchiha. 
"Come on, Sakura!" he called after her, growing annoyed as the kunochi went to find another place to wait for the rest of their squad. She was secretly pleased that his voice had an agitated edge to it instead of the usual carefree ring that usually resounded from his mouth. "Are you going to be like this the whole mission?" 
Silently, with her unparalleled grace, the kunochi leapt up several branches of a nearby oaktree, before settling back down with her book.  It was all of nine seconds before Sasuke was perched behind her, peering over her shoulder. 
"...how's your latest 'Kiss Handsome Boy' book?" he asked coyly. 
"The hero is not handsome, he's deformed," Sakura replied with a roll of her eyes.  "What's compelling about him is how deeply he loves and how loyal he is... Something you wouldn't know anything about." 
"Deformed as in one side of his otherwise attractive face," Sasuke rolled his eyes. "Oh, is there a scar over one of his eyes? Or is he missing a limb?" 
Sakura looked skyward in agitation. 
"Heh." Sasuke smirked. "He's just missing a limb isn't he?" 
"Would you just leave me alone, please?" Sakura asked him with a sigh, shifting down the branch. 
"Oh, come on, aren't you going to tell me more about your hero?" the Uchiha asked smugly. "I bet he's all brooding and tortured with a tragic past, and I'm sure only you can save him." 
Sakura growled in agitation before closing the book once more and placing it in her back pouch before turning her jade orbs on the Uchiha playboy.
"Okay, Sasuke, you win," she said, crossing her arms. "You have my attention, now what the hell do you want?" 
"Hey," Sasuke put his hands up in surrender. "I'm just trying to find out why you're mad at me, Sakura-chan, it's not good for a team to go on a mission with unresolved issues." 
"I'm not mad at you, Sasuke." she said evenly. "I just genuinely can't stand you." 
"Aw." Sasuke chided, swinging his legs over the branch to let them swing. "We both know that's not true, we used to be friends once, you even used to call me Sasuke-kun, remember?" 
"I was just a stupid kid back then," she replied. "Now, would you leave me alone, it's bad enough I have to spend a whole week with you." 
The infamous playboy placed a hand over his heart. "Ah, you wound me, Sakura-chan... Don't you care at all about the importance of teamwork?" 
"Oh, are you going to lecture me about teamwork?" she asked him. "You, the one who abandoned the team to flirt with that busty nimrod last time?" 
"You're so high and mighty, you know that?" He scoffed. "Sorry that I like to enjoy myself once in a while and talk to people, unlike Menma who can barely form coherent words around women, and you, because you're too busy trying to keep up you're frigid bitch facade." 
"Wow, Sasuke." Sakura gave him a mocking grin. "And you wonder why I don't like you." 
"That's your problem, you don't like anyone," Sasuke explained matter-o-factly. "That's why you're so lonely all the time." 
She felt her breathing hitch and her whole body stiffen at the word. 
What did he just say?
Lonely...
"How would you know?" she asked lowly. "You don't know a damn thing about being alone."
"Sakura..." he began, realizing he had gone a little overboard.  She was just so harsh sometimes, he couldn't help it. "I didn't mean it like that, I just..." 
"You're so damn annoying! Acting like you actually know me!" she exclaimed, so angry she didn't know what to do with herself. "Why don't you just keep your mouth shut about things you don't understand!?"  She stood up and leapt down from the tree, unwilling to wait around with him a moment more. 
Luckily, Menma appeared, walking up the cobbled path, giving her a shy smile. "M-morning, Sakura-chan."
"Hello, Menma." she replied with a sigh of relief. "It's so good to see you." 
"It really is," Sasuke replied, jumping down from his perch. "I'll have a witness in case Sakura-chan tries to do me in." 
Menma sighed to himself. It seemed this would be another mission of tension between his two teammates.  "Hey, Sasuke... M-my mom made cookies for the journey if you guys want some," he told them, holding out a brown paper bag where his mother had drawn a lopsided smiley face.  It was an immature tactic to make peace, but it was effective more times than not. 
"Ah!" Sasuke exclaimed, helping himself. "Let me at 'em! Kushina-san's cookies are always the best!" 
"Sakura-chan?" Menma encouraged her to take one, trying not to blush. 
"No thanks, Menma." Sakura replied, putting up a hand.  "I'm on a cleanse, but they smell delicious." 
"A cleanse?" Menma asked. 
"Probably for the best." Sasuke nodded. "They’re too sweet to share with someone so bitter. Not to mention you've been growing a little thicker around the middle." 
Menma cringed in fear. Did Sasuke just call her fat? Did he dare? So much for his peace cookies. Maybe he should try dumplings next time.
A sort of dark shadow fell over Sakura's eyes as she shot a deadly glare up at her raven-haired teammate. 
Sasuke smirked in response. "Sorry, koishii, that doesn't work on me." 
Sakura had a talent for scaring off her many admirers with that dark look alone, however, that frightening attitude of hers had an opposite effect on Sasuke.
 He wasn't afraid, only amused. 
"Heh," she replied, startling him a bit and switching gears as an easy smile spread across her face, mirroring his own. That may not work on him, but she knew something that would. "On second thought, I would love a cookie."
She strode past him then, with a little extra swing of her hips, purposefully knocking her shoulder with his own as she did so, and took a large round cookie from the offered bag."Thanks, Menma-kun, you're so sweet!"
Surprising both her male teammates, the kunoichi leaned up and brushed her lips against Menma's cheek as a token of her appreciation, making the blonde turn seven different shades of red and Sasuke's smirk diminish a little. 
"Da...uh... N-no problem, Sakura-chan." the poor boy stuttered, his hands clenching around the cookie bag, lost somewhere between pure joy and mortification.  His mom was right.  Sweets were the way to a girl's heart! 
Sakura turned and smirked triumphantly at Sasuke, glad to see his own had melted into a displeased frown, as she took a slow enticing bite of the cookie.  "Mmm... you're right, Sasuke, these really are the best." 
"Hn." he hummed. "Careful you don't choke, Sakura."
"Good morning, students!" Kakashi greeted, interrupting the spat. 
"Ah, right on time as always, Sensei." Sasuke waved before shoving his hands in his pockets. "Where are we off to today?" 
...
"Tell me." 
"No, go away." 
"C'mon, just tell me what's bothering you." 
"No! Stop that! Get the hell away from me!" 
"Sakuraaaaa."
"Sasuke." 
"Look, I'll stop bugging you for the rest of the journey if you just tell me." 
"No!" 
"Please, Sakura," Kakashi begged from where he was leading the three teenagers. "For all our sakes, take him up on that offer." 
Menma nodded in agreement.  It was hard to focus on reading the map with those two bickering behind him. 
"I'm not giving in to his whining." the rosette replied angrily.  "...I'm going on ahead to scout." 
With that, she leapt away into the trees and disappeared from sight.  Sasuke moved to jump after her. 
"Sasuke, give her some space,"  Kakashi commanded.  
"Heh, she's not getting away that easily." was the ninja's careless and insubordinate reply.  
Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Sasuke knew Sakura. He had known her his whole life and she really wasn't the icy, badass bitch she made herself out to be.  She had been putting up with his normal bullshit for years with the usual scoff or roll of the eyes, whatever he had done most recently must have really upset her.  
And, truth be told, he wasn't all too happy with her either. 
"I can't really be sorry for something if I didn't even know what I did, you know?" he told her once he caught up with the angry kunoichi.  "Come on, I genuinely want to know what's wrong." 
"You, genuine?" she scoffed. 
"Okay, I don't deserve that," he told her. "We're not thirteen anymore, your lousy attitude is not going to send me into the corner feeling bad about what I did. I'm human, I make mistakes.  Not all of us can be perfect like you..." 
"You see, that's exactly what gets on my nerves." she turned on him then, her finger pointed right into his face. "You think everything is about you." 
"Well, isn't this about me?" he asked. "Isn't that why you haven't spoken to me for days, this morning, and that stunt with Menma you did to try and get me jealous." 
"Ha! Don't flatter yourself." 
"Well, you were." he laughed. "Unfortunately, I'm not the jealous type like you." 
That earned him a glare. "Whatever makes you feel better, Sasuke." 
"Look," he sighed. "Is this really going to be the whole mission? Can we just..." 
"Ino is not one of those girls!" she exclaimed. 
"What?" Sasuke asked, dumbfounded. 
"Ino," she remarked. "You know, my best friend? She's not like those girls you hang out with, the ones who enjoy flirting with you as much as you enjoy flirting with them.  She's shy, even more so than Menma, anytime a guy gives her any attention she takes it to heart. She took you flirting with her seriously." 
"Who are we even talking about?" he asked, confused. 
"INO!" Sakura exclaimed.  "She's been in every class with both of us since the Academy. Blonde haired, blue-green eyes, wears five layers of clothing." 
"Ohhhhh." Sasuke realized. "The stuttering girl... she's your friend still, huh?" 
"Kami." Sakura hissed, turning and jumping to another branch.  
"Look, Sakura, wait," Sasuke called after her. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean anything by it, it was Shikamaru's idea, it was all just a joke." 
"Just a joke?" Sakura asked him. "Hurting a girl's feelings and making her feel foolish for believing you were actually genuine is not a joke... do you know how hard it was for me to tell her what you're really like, that you didn't actually like her, you were just messing with her?" 
"Look, it was stupid," he sighed, jumping and landing beside her once more. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well, you tell her that next time you see her," she quipped. "Maybe she'll forgive you." 
"Fine, mama bear, I will."  he sighed, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "As usual, you're blowing this way out of proportion." 
She shoved his hand away and crossed her arms. "I told you what was bothering me, wasn't that the deal? Now stop bugging me for the rest of the trip." 
With that she jumped away again, not slowing down, leaving Sasuke to stare after her. 
Kami, that girl. She drove him absolutely crazy. 
... 
They set up camp and Team 7 had fallen into a not so easy silence.  Sasuke had been true to his word and let Sakura alone, but the tension from before was still sizzling in the air as they went about their tasks. It was all standard teenage shit for Kakashi, but Menma was always uncomfortable with any sort of discourse, especially between his only two friends, and found himself actually missing their bickering. This competitive silence was somehow worse. 
Once they all settled around the fire, Menma had calculated that no one had spoken for an hour and twenty-three minutes. While he was a quiet fellow, himself, this was just ridiculous. He turned to Kakashi with a pleading look. 
Do something, Sensei! 
But the silver-haired jonin was looking over their map, planning for the next morning, quite content with the silence, no matter how awkward it was. Menma turned to his right to see Sakura at the farthest end of the fire, her nose in her book, legs crossed and body pivoted away from them all.  To his left sat Sasuke, sharpening his kunai, a full pout on his face as he watched Sakura's back. Menma had never seen him so grumpy. Though bothering Sakura was his lifeblood, being cut off for even an hour seemed to have negative effects. 
Menma, knowing it was up to him to break the ice, squeezed his cookie bag in dread. He hated bringing attention to himself, but if it was for the good of his team, he would do it.  He glanced around before choosing the member of his squad he currently liked best to try to engage with.  While it was a wide known fact that Sasuke was his best friend, Sakura-chan was very pretty. 
Plus she had kissed him that morning, he still felt it burning beneath his skin.  
"How is your book, Sakura-chan?" he chirped, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. The sound of his soft, raspy voice was like a piano crashing from the sky on top of them all. He felt Sasuke's glare burning a hole in the back of his head and realized that he may have betrayed a rule of comradery between them that he had been unaware of. Apparently, if the Uchiha wasn't talking to Sakura, he wasn't allowed to talk to her either.
Forgive me, brother!
Sakura lowered her book and gave him a rare sweet smile over her shoulder. "It's a work of genius." she sighed dreamily. "The hero just proposed to his dying lover." 
"Oh, that's um... nice," Menma replied, though he wasn't sure if it was. He wasn't one for reading, and certainly couldn't manage a thick romance novel without dying from secondhand embarrassment, but Sakura never went on a mission without one. It was the funny riddle of her being for her teacher and teammates, that someone as cold and crass as the village Ice Queen read sappy paperbacks. 
Sasuke scoffed from behind, but Menma didn't even dare to face him. "There's one more cookie, if you want it, Sakura-chan." he offered, holding out the crumpled bag once more. If he was going to have to speak, he might as well try and get another kiss for his efforts. Sakura beamed and not only accepted his offer, but set aside her book before rising and coming to sit beside him. "Thanks, Menma." she beamed, making him turn a full shade of scarlet. "You are so thoughtful." 
That set the Uchiha off, he tossed his kunai aside and rose to his full height. "Why does she get the last cookie?" 
"I-I uh..."
"You don't have to explain yourself to him, Menma." Sakura told him firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder, making his soul leave his body a little. "Despite what he thinks, he's not the boss of you." 
"Oh, wow," Sasuke started to laugh, thoroughly pissed off now, but refusing to acknowledge her before she acknowledged him. "Real nice, Uzumaki, leaving me high and dry for a pretty face." 
"Sorry..." the blond began, feeling awful. 
"Don't apologize to him!" Sakura exclaimed. “Like he’s one to talk.” 
“Look, here’s a little free advice, Menma.” Sasuke went on regardless. “Cute as she is, she’s just going to chew you up and spit you out, there are a lot of way nicer girls around.” 
Menma felt Sakura’s hand squeeze his shoulder unintentionally and knew that comment had more than stung the kunoichi. He felt something foreign in his chest flare up all of sudden. 
“Sakura-chan is nice!” he told him, taking a tone with his friend he never had before. “She’s always nice to me!” 
“Only cause it serves a purpose.” Sasuke rolled his eyes, unsure how the kid could be so clueless. 
“Kami, you really are the most arrogant, hypocritical, egotistical, delusional fuck boy to ever grace the planet!” Sakura all but screamed at such an accusation. It was all she could do to not send a fist into his nose. 
“Ah, there she is!” Sasuke grinned triumphantly.  
Kakashi sighed, looking toward the heavens. It had been such a glorious hour and a half.  Perhaps he had summoned some sort of karma for foolishly hoping to finish his work before they both started back up again. 
“You’re such a horrid friend to him, do you know that?” she stood up and strode right up to the boy that loomed over her about a good seven inches. “You’re always telling him what to do and making him feel like he’s second best to you.”
“Yeah, well it’s better than you not even letting him speak up for himself.” he pointed out. “Stop trying to be everyone’s mother.” 
“Excuse me?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. 
“Look, if you’re so concerned about Menma and his feelings, then why don’t stop using him as fuel to get to me?” 
“Oh, get over yourself, Sasuke!” 
“That’s enough!” Kakashi intervened. He considered himself an even-tempered man, but he could only take so much of the ongoing saga of Sasuke and Sakura. Honestly, he’d come to wish they’d get it over with and just fuck or do each other in. The older they got the more their bickering and sexual tension was getting out of hand. “Both of you, go blow off some steam, Sakura go North, Sasuke go South, I don’t want to see either of you back here until you can both be amiable comrades to one another and stop pulling Menma into the middle of your immature spats.” 
“But, Sensei
” 
“Now, Sakura!” He commanded, pointing his finger, making her huff as she grabbed her bag and leaped off. 
“Whatever.” Sasuke shrugged, turning and taking her leave as well, leaving the silver hair ninja with his remaining student. He ruffled his blond hair tiredly. “What are we going to do with them, huh, Menma?” 
“Don’t know, Sensei.” he shrugged. “They really hate each other, don’t they?” 
Kakashi’s mouth formed a line. “If only it were that simple.” 


Sakura knew it was stupid to think that Sasuke would, for once, listen to Kakashi and actually put some distance between them, but she would have liked at least a second to herself. 
“You’re really something else, you know that?” he asked coming up behind her. 
“Didn’t you hear Sensei? You’re supposed to go South.” she shot back heatedly, storming off faster, knowing it was pointless. If there was one thing she’d admit that Sasuke had on her it was speed. He was soon walking alongside her. 
“Who cares what he says?” he huffed. “I’m not done with you yet.” 
“Yeah, well I’m done with you.” she retorted. 
“No, you don’t get to call me out on leading your friend on, when you’re doing the same thing to Menma, and then call me a hypocrite,” he told her. “That’s not how it works.” 
She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “I’m not leading him on.” 
His face went deadpan at that, before taking on a persona that she assumed was herself. 
“Oh, Menma-kun, I’d love a cookie!” he gushed as high as his deep voice would let him go. “You’re so sweet! You’re so thoughtful! I’m not just using you to get under Sasuke’s skin at all!”
She turned and kept walking at that, enraged that he would make such an accusation, and even more so because he was not completely wrong either. 
“Ever thought about how that will make Menma feel?” he asked. “You know how he feels about you.” 
“What are you talking about?” she stopped and turned around. 
“He’s in love with you!” Sasuke exclaimed as if she were an idiot. 
Sakura felt something snap like a twig somewhere inside her. “No, he’s not.” 
“Yes, he is.” Sasuke nodded reassuringly. 
“No, he’s not.” 
“Yes he is!” he nearly yelled in exasperation “Most men are! Have you seen yourself?” 
“...Kami” she whispered slowly, wishing the earth would just swallow her up right then and there. She hadn’t realized that Menma had a crush on her, let alone loved her. How could someone who spent so much time with her be in love with her? That was insane. 
She thought of all the times she had sent him attention just to spur Sasuke and never felt so low. While it was not often and never harmless, it was flirty and could have easily made him feel that she was interested in something more than friendship. She was no better than the Uchiha, 
“Yeah, it’s true, so stop playing with his feelings.” 
As guilty as she felt, she couldn’t bring herself to admit defeat to him, not three times in one day. She’d make things right with Menma, but Sasuke didn’t have to know that. “Maybe I’m not playing.” she shrugged coyly, turning and continuing on her way. 
“...what?” Sasuke muttered in confusion. 
“Maybe I’m in love with him too,” she suggested with raised palms. “I mean
” 
Sasuke was suddenly in front of her, making her almost walk head first into his broad chest. “You’re not in love with Menma,” he stated as if it were the most basic fact of life, like the rising and the setting of the sun. 
“Why not?” she asked with a raised brow, genuinely asking herself as much as she was asking him. Why hadn’t she ever thought of Menma as something more? “He’s handsome, considerate, sensitive and always good to me, why wouldn’t I be in love with him?” 
“Because you’re in love with me,” Sasuke told her just as simply. “That’s why.” 
She stared up at him, lips parting wordlessly at such a claim. Where there was a snap before now felt like she had been struck by a bolt of lightning. To her surprise, as well as his, she began to laugh. She laughed so hard she bent over, hugging herself around her middle. Sasuke remained stoic, emitting only a small smile when anyone else would have been more than wounded. 
“I’m not in love with you, Sasuke.” she told him when she straightened up and caught her breath. Where had the clueless bastard got that idea? He was just watching her with a knowing, adoring look in his eye, his hands tucked snuggly in his pockets. She tilted her head up so that she was looking directly into his eyes. “I hate you.” 
Honestly, what planet had he been living on? 
Suddenly he took her face gently into his hands and made her still, all mirth and smugness abandoning her. She stared up at him in shock, eyes wide and sparkling in the darkness as he kept her there, not two inches from his face. Blood rushed to her face so fast that it felt as if she were burning alive from the inside. Why was everything so quiet all of a sudden?
“What was that, Sakura?” he asked with an easy smile, seeing everything he needed to see, rolling her name around the way he knew drove her crazy. “I didn’t quite hear you.” 
“I-I said,” she breathed out shakily, wondering what the hell was wrong with her voice. It sounded so soft and unsure. Like it was someone else’s entirely. 
He had caught her off guard with this play. Nothing in her body was working like it was supposed to. Damn it! Why did he have to be so fucking beautiful? And tall? And sexy? 
It wasn’t fair. 
But, it didn’t prove anything, she assured herself. He was Sasuke. Everyone was attracted to him one way or another. That’s the only effect he had. Attraction wasn’t love. She wasn’t in love with him. In fact, this only made her more angry at him. If she could feel her hands she would have sent a fist straight into his perfect jawline. 
She swallowed thickly. “I said, I hate
”
Kami, was he going to kiss her?
She stiffened as she felt his thumb brush along her cheekbones as he loomed over her all the closer, his hot breath spilling over her face. 
“What?” he hummed softly. “Go on, say it.”
She stared at his lips, contemplative for a moment of what it would be like to kiss someone, but quickly remembered just who she was dealing with and snapped her gaze back to his dark eyes, so close now she could count his lashes. 
“I hate you.” she whispered, her eyes darkening, it was hard to breathe at this angle he held her. But, she did it. She got it out. 
She won. 
He smiled then, looking so pleased that for a moment she wondered if she had said the wrong thing. The opposite thing. 
He leaned forward ever so slightly, hands slipping down to her neck, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, but his lips took an alternate route gently and brushed over the hollow of her cheek, the same place she had bestowed a kiss to Menma for his sweets. 
He pulled back and she watched him, flushed and frustrated by his brash action and by the burning in her face centering around the focal point where he had touched her.
“You too, Sakura-chan.” he told her with a wink before turning and going on his way, leaving her alone like she wanted.
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wetalkinboutbooks · 5 years ago
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An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir
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Summary: Laia is a slave. Elias is a soldier. Neither is free.
Under the Martial Empire, defiance is met with death. Those who do not vow their blood and bodies to the Emperor risk the execution of their loved ones and the destruction of all they hold dear.
It is in this brutal world, inspired by ancient Rome, that Laia lives with her grandparents and older brother. The family ekes out an existence in the Empire’s impoverished backstreets. They do not challenge the Empire. They’ve seen what happens to those who do.
But when Laia’s brother is arrested for treason, Laia is forced to make a decision. In exchange for help from rebels who promise to rescue her brother, she will risk her life to spy for them from within the Empire’s greatest military academy.
There, Laia meets Elias, the school’s finest soldier—and secretly, its most unwilling. Elias wants only to be free of the tyranny he’s being trained to enforce. He and Laia will soon realize that their destinies are intertwined—and that their choices will change the fate of the Empire itself. (Taken from Goodreads)
Our Ratings:  
 → Geena:  ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
 → Kae: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Overall: We genuinely love this book series so much that our brains recircuit talking about it... all we can do is say if you’re looking for good fantasy with amazing characters and plot... this is it!
Check out the spoiler full review below~
The Good:
→ The Worldbuilding 
Kae: Worldbuilding baybeeeeee. I LOVE IT. Reading this series was such an eye opener for me. It was so far from the usual European magic and broomsticks, that I NEEDED MORE. So I kept reading lol. The worldbuilding in this series is fantastic. There are Efrits, Jinn, magic, and more. This world is set in a Romanish Empire/Pakistani fusion of cultures. You have the Scholars are the lowest caste of people, the Tribes which is basically just a step up from ScholarS, but they are free. Then we have the Plebeians and the Martials. All of these cultures are so well written and developed that you have no trouble differentiating what culture certain characters might belong to just based on their name. Ex: Afyah, Ilyaas = Tribes; Darin, Laia, Izzy= Scholars; Markus=Pleb; Helene, Elias = Martials. All very easy to distinguish, I think. 
We also have some magical beings who are more or less immortal. The Jinn and Efrits, the Nightbringer, Shaeva, the Augurs. They’re all linked to a literal higher power. 
We also have The Waiting Place, which is basically purgatory. But it’s where the dead go to be escorted to the next life. 
Geena: I deserve no rights because I've always loved the whole roman empire history shit, it was always the most interesting shit to learn about so when I read the synopsis like roman inspired
 written by a SA woman
 i LOST MY SHIT!!! AND LIKE KAE DESCRIBED Sabaa does an amazing job of weaving in magical elements too, and ugh
.. Her mind
 BUT ALSO WHAT I LOVED IS, something a lot of fantasy authors do is fall into a hole of introducing race politics (aka RACISM) based on skin colour, but Sabaa was like
 Wait Ik how to format this
Tired: Fantasy world skin-colour based racism
Wired: Fantasy world-class system based beef 
Sabaa tackles the issue of class systems and so on, and she did it all from scratch and I fucking loved it, it was gratifying to see an author who put so much effort into her worldbuilding. Also
 this is v dumb
 but the whole detail with sending messages using drums
.. I was here for it 
→ Laia and Elias 
Kae: They’re wonderful and need a hug
Geena: Sabaa made an executive decision to write two whole cinnamon rolls and she did! COMPLEX cinnamon rolls that we love from the bottoms of our hearts. We start off with Laia’s perspective as she waits for her brother in her room, but shit hits the fan real quick and the Martial empire’s elite soldiers storm their small home searching for her brother. We learn that her brother, Darin, has got his hands on top secret info and if he doesn’t turn it over they’ll murder everyone. Darin and Laia try to make a run for it but are apprehended by a Mask (Essentially an elite soldier) and they’re forced to watch their grandparents die, Darin tells Laia to run and get out of there and our girl
 our girl listens but she has mad ragrets. We follow Laia as she stumbles to the Resistance, an underground Scholar organization that has mad beef with the Martial empire. There she’s tasked with acting as a slave to hands down, the WORST person in the empire, Keris Veturia. All of this in the hopes that the Resistance will help save her brother who’s been imprisoned in the most brutal prison in the empire. 
What I love about Laia is that she’s not perfect, she’s not an amazing fighter and strategist off the bat
 she’s an 18/19 year old girl from an oppressed group that has no idea what’s going on and her only skill set is that of a healer. BUT!!! Throughout the book we get to watch Laia make mistakes and learn from them, all of which makes her stronger and smarter. She’s so determined đŸ„ș even when Keris is carving her initials into Laia’s chest, even when she’s brought to the brink of death, Laia sticks with her goal to find Darin no matter the cost. Anyways.. We stan
. THOUGH TO BE HONEST, when I had started reading it, her first few chapters were frustrating to read because I was like “why would you do that1!!!” but then I set the book down at one moment and thought about how I’d act in the same situation and I was like
.. I would’ve fucked up and been killed like 10 pages ago so Laia is doing really well LMAO
 and since then I’ve been ready to fight for Laia whenever I see people shit on her.  
Kae: BOOM! So Geena summed up Laia’s character/situation perfectly. WE STAN LAIA OF SERRA. Now, we’re gonna talk about our brooding, handsome boy, Elias aka Ilyaas. Elias, is WILDLY the son of Keris. Keris had a lil boo thang back in the day and got preggers. She did everything she could to terminate the pregnancy, but nothing worked. So she was forced to give birth to him. She fucked off to the desert tribes for a while and learned how to deliver a baby, so she could deliver her own. When the time came, Keris gave birth to Elias. She cared for him for about five minutes before she was like “Yeah, I’m not with the shits. Fuck this kid.” And she left Elias in the desert near the tribes so he could be raised with them. Years later, Elias was chosen by the Martials to attend Blackcliff. Blackcliffe is a school where the Martials train to become the most elite soldiers in this world. Elias trains and trains and is ultimately the top of his class. At a certain age, the students are given silver mask that will eventually completely fuse to their face. Elias hates his mask. He takes it off every night, so it still hasn’t fused to his face like the rest of his class. Elias also hates Blackcliffe and was planning on being a deserter. He had a bag packed and was fully prepared to leave. He was sad to leave his best friend and confidant, Helene, but he was RET TA GO. That is, until he was selected to compete in the Trials that would change his world forever. These trials are to select who is to rule the Empire. He gets this news, when Laia, Keris’s slave is sent to retrieve him. When he meets Laia, he is instantly smitten. He forgets himself, is smiling, shooting the breeze, asking her names, etc. Then realizes, he could get her in trouble just for being nice to her. So they move along. 
Elias is a very sweet boy who just got caught up in a lot of shit with the trails. Every day he spends at Blackcliffe is another day he hates himself. The kid (well he’s like 20), is just straight up MISERABLE. These trials are to rest his mind, power, and strength and all the usual. The last two winners in the end will be the ruler and the Blood Shrike, aka advisor. This is almost a good thing, because Elias is competing with Helene and if they both win, they can both rule. Things are going pretty well for them. They’re winning, it’s looking good. But then, Elias has to go against Helene and they both have to lead a small armada against one another. It’s either kill or be killed. In the end, he has to go against Helene . In the end, he and Helene reluctantly battle it TF OUT. Elias wins because Helene had to forfeit because she was wearing some magical armor that couldn’t be penetrated. Elias feels HORRIBLE. His friends are dead. He ALMOST killed his best friend. He feels ashamed and like a monster. If he hadn’t hated himself before (which he totally die), he SURELY hates himself now. Laia is then sent to his chambers/rooms as his prize. He’s meant to sleep with her, but he hates himself too much and he doesn’t want to take advantage of her. So they just talk and end up sharing a little smoochy smooch. But uh, ya boy is lowkey SPRUNG cause Laia is cute and she got them CHILD BIRTHING HIPS.
Geena: Kae got that *Chef’s kiss* Elias/Ilyaas summary I s2g. I loved Elias because he was honest to god such a refreshing character to read. Like he seems like the typical YA boy → Tall, dark, handsome, and brooding. BUT!!! He’s so different and in the best way possible. FIRST OFF!!! He actually has such a fulfilling childhood (no sad backstory other than learning his mom is an actual piece of shit rip
. More like sad present story). Secondly, he recognizes that what he’s doing is wrong and the way the Martials terrorize Scholar’s is garbage and he wants no part of it. THIRD, he doesn’t like to push his own trauma on those around him? IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT WELL, but like he’s such an upstanding guy that treats people well no matter what? Also
 he’s lowkey a dumbass
 like Kae mentioned when he first met Laia his brain hit a reset and he was essentially like “Me name potato.” We love a hot dumb jock that chugs that respecting women juice. 
Kae: OMG HE’S A TALL, THINNER ALTAIR MINUS DICK JOKES. HE’S NASIR AND ALTAIR IN ONE.  ASDFGHJKL 
Geena: YEEEEAASSSSS (check out that review here). ALSO MY final thots on Laia and Elias that as a duo they’re amazing! Laia gives Elias advice when they’re stuck in his room together đŸ€Ș and he finally chooses that he’ll do what HE wants and not what the empire wants. Elias, in turn, vows to help find and save Darin
. I love them sm they bring the best out of each other 😭 
→ Izzy ft. Helene’s One Singular Good Person Moment
Kae: IZZY! Izzy is the epitome is sugar, spice, and everything nice. Well, minus the spice because she’s really just a sweet little sugar plum. Izzy is also Keris’ slave. She’s around the same age as Laia if not a year or two younger. She’s very quiet and tries to keep to herself. But she finds herself secretly being friends with Laia and helping her when things are the absolute worst. When Keris carved her initials into Laia’s chest, Laia got really sick. Our girl had a crazy fever and Izzy was there to help her through it. Well, she got Elias and he got some herbs and shit, BUT IZZY HELPED. Though Izzy has been a slave her entire life, she has always wanted to be free of Blackcliffe and all of its horrors. So she works with Laia, sneaking out, and sometimes stealing, to make sure that can happen for the both of them. I should also mention that Keris took Izzy’s eye as a child. So Izzy is a small, skinny, fragile, one eyed sweetie. But all of her hardship doesn’t stop her from being such a genuinely good person. 
Geena: Izzy is such a sweet character who tries her best to not be friends with Laia, but people GRAVITATE to Laia (good and bad rip) so she didn’t hold out very long. My favourite scene with them was when they sneak out to participate in some yearly festival that is ~~illegal~~ such a sweet moment I lowkey died.  Moving on to Helene though, the poster child of brainwashed, patriotic, eating-propaganda-for-breakfast, and the second best Mask after Elias. Helene is also shown to have feelings for Elias so when Laia shows up she’s not pleased at all! And Elias himself is confused about his feelings and rip when he was like “Let me try to kiss Helene and see if I like her too” LIKE BOY
. DON’T PLAY HER LIKE THAT PLS
. BUT he doesn’t bc Laia is ATTACKED thus interrupting their moment and Helene is annoyed like “OFC IT’D BE THAT BINCH!!!” like Helene the poor girl was attacked by another walking bag of shit o my god
 BUT!!! Near the end of the book when Elias and Laia are escaping Helene is the first one to catch them, but she lets them go! A turning point for her character maybe? Though I know for a fact she didn’t care about Laia, but was doing it bc she still cared for Elias and didn’t want to see him slaughtered no matter how much she’s a ride-or-die for the Martials. 
The Bad :  
→ The Scholar Resistance 
Kae: Is that what they were called? Because they HIGHKEY played tf out of Laia. Alright. The Resistance. They’re mean and I HATE THEM. The Resistance is a rebel movement by a few Scholars who are fighting for the freedom and equality or their people. Laia’s parents were like, the biggest, most badass leaders who have ever lead them. But after they died, things kind of fell apart for The Resistance. Laia, stumbles into their hideout after she runs away from home, after her brother was kidnapped and her grandparents were killed. She begs for them to help her and they’re basically like “Mmmm. No. But you look familiar tho
 Who ya momma nem?” and she’s like “lol yeah actually my parents used to run this shit so help me.” And they help her
 Kind of
 They basically send her ona  dummy mission. A SUICIDE MISSION to be the Commandant’s slave (Keris), to gather information about the Martials and their next plan. In return, they were to help free Darin. Laia was to gather info, then meet with Keenan (a boy in the Resistance) to give over said info every week. Well, they also chose not to tell Laia that she was basically on this mission for nothing. They had no real way to get Darin out of the prison he was being held at. They were really just sending her to die because they KNEW Keris was ruthless and that none of her slaves lasted more than a few months before they were killed or killed themselves. Long story short, FUCK The Resistance. They’re bitches and we HATE THEM. 
Geena: Kae’s right
 the Resistance is a bunch of wrinkly ass losers that can kiss our asses. When it was revealed that the Resistance didn’t know SHIT about Darin and were just fucking with Laia
. I was ready to to go down to this place and fight them mySELF. Laia risked EVERYTHING to get them information, she survived for god knows how long under Keris and when she couldn’t come up with something substantial they’d be like “Oh well you’re fucking useless” as if she’s not the daughter of the Lioness aka the most fierce Resistance leader that they ever had. Also, Keenan (....) comes through in the end and offers her a way to break her slave cuffs and escape, but Laia decides that Izzy deserves that more than she does and that Laia would find her own way out
 But also imagine the betrayal that Laia felt, the people that were supposed to keep her safe and help her were just screwing her over the whole time. But
 despite everything that happens Laia is still her sweet self? Just like Ilyaas
 both manage to maintain their humanity no matter the shit thrown at them. 
The Ugly:  
→ Keris’ tiny little mean ass 
Kae: Geena said that shit, baybeeee! Ugh, her MIIIIND. Alright. Now. Let’s talk about “The Bitch of Blackcliffe”. This woman. Evil, vile woman, is basically a 5’3, blonde hair demon. She has absolutely no patience. If you sneeze in the same room as her she’ll probs slit your throat and make a disgusted, disappointed face at you while doing it. She will tolerate NOTHING. You will not speak to her unless spoken to. I mean, this is a woman who wanted to look like so much of a badass that she thought being pregnant and delivering her own baby in a cave alone would make her look weak. I think that was actually pretty tough of her though because whew
 I couldn’t do it.
Geena: She got back to her neanderthal roots
Kae: LMAOOO GIRL IM DEAD.But like,  in her youth, Keris went to Blackcliffe. As we heard from her father at some point, Keris was miserable there. She was taunted, picked on, and beat up (mind you she was the only girl at that school so that’s fucked up). She had absolutely no friends and had to fend for herself. So, to make up for it, Keris became ruthless. She became a heartless woman because people made her that way. I hate to be that person, but like, I get it? I can see why someone would become so coldhearted. She did not have a good life. Her mother died when she was young, her father wasn’t there, and she had no friends. I’m not surprised at all that she turned out to be such a horrible person as an adult. No, I’m not giving he an excuse. She had the option to be a good person and she didn’t choose that. But, yeah. That’s my take on her evil ass.  WHEW. OKAY DO YA THANG. 
Geena: TRUE, Kae’s right, Keris had that sad :( childhood :( but at the same time, it’s like
 you didn’t have to continue being a dick like people were to you but here we are. Also, she’s genuinely such a terrible person and orchestrates the genocide of the Scholars and is a BITCH about everything. What I realize now is that
. She’s essentially Elias’s foil? Like neither had a solid father figure, both had a tough time growing up (with Elias missing his tribal home and being forced to murder, and Keris being bullied), but Elias does his best to break out of that cycle but Keris is like
 *slurps up the shitty Martial mudwater*... she is the bootlicker supreme who finds joy at having her son beheaded (Helene is Bootlicker Lite because at least she let Elias live whereas Keris tried her best to get him killed) BUT JOKES ON THAT BITCH BC ELIAS LIVES!!!!  Elias would send Keris a crude drawing of himself like “I lived bitch!” 
Anyways, she’s an extremely well-written villain else we wouldn’t hate her so much lmao

Conclusion 
Kae: In conclusion, we fuck with it. I loved this series so much, I read the first three books in one week and was heartbroken to find out that the fourth book wasn’t out yet. YA GIRL IS ATTACHED TO THESE CHARACTERS, OKAY!???? An Ember in the Ashes is a wonderful, extremely well written book. I think Sabaa is a literal genuis. This book made me fall in love with reading all over again. I think the characters are so individually different, it’s amazing. They are well distinguished and independent of each other. They are strong and sweet and funny and evil. Just all around AMAZING as well as the folklore, stories, and cultures that are presented to the audience. 
Geena: yyyeeeaaaass the care that Sabaa Tahir put into this book, ranging from how each character is written to the intricate worldbuilding got a bitch tearing up, BECAUSE ONE DAY I WISH TO WRITE THIS WELL!! An Ember in the Ashes draws you in from the first page, and I litcherally say this for every book we’ve reviewed but there’s NEVER a dull moment (I need a new phrase lmao) you are constantly stressed reading this book (in a good way) and there’s like 2 more books after
 and the last book in the series on the way. BLEASE READ Ember, because Kae and I have spent our whole time talking SCREECHING about this book. THINKING ABOUT IT, WITHOUT EMBER WE WOULDN’T HAVE THIS BLOG LMAOOO  
Kae: OKAY BUT LIKE. LITERALLY. WE STARTED TALKING AND BECAME REAL GOOD FRIENDS BECAUSE OF THIS BOOK. LIKE, WITHOUT EMBER, THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED. SO THANKS, SABAA. 
Geena: WE LOVE YOU, SABAA!!
Kae: And I guess that concludes today’s book rant/review! I hope you all enjoy our ramblings and more! 
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eralea · 6 years ago
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Mabinogi Drama: Graterilsi vs Ruricy vs Milktea7 vs Prudentia - Extended version
2020 UPDATE:
I have been informed that one person involved in this drama has been arrested and incarcerated. Faith has been using his guild, Prudentia, to target young girls for sexual abuse. Obviously I condemn this piece of shit and I regret not calling him a lying gaslighting piece of shit when I had the chance.
The current officer of Prudentia has accused me of calling all his victims “tainted”, which is complete nonsense. All I had said was that I refuse to recommend any other guild from now on (except the one led by EC’s former leader) because I don’t know which ones will turn out to be secretly run by pedos like Prudentia. He claims this is proof that I deem all the girls to be “tainted” and that “it’s not fair because they’re trying so hard” to reclaim the guild name and remove the associations with Faith.
I will say that I do believe that the name Prudentia and guild entity itself is tainted with Faith’s pedo-shitbaggery. He made and used that guild to abuse minors. He was so proud of that guild and always signed his posts as their leader, even during times when he wasn’t actually the in-game leader. I can’t imagine why the current management is trying so hard to maintain a guild that has become his pedo legacy. None of that means that I blame his victims in any way. They did a fantastic job of bringing him to justice and I applaud that.
This officer has a history of misinterpreting everything I say in the most negative way possible and while I try to be lenient towards ESL* speakers, I’m quite convinced that it’s intentional malice at this point. There will be no more diplomacy with Prudentia, new management or not.
*he’s Serbian and it’s not like his English is poor enough to actually be used as an excuse anyway
The original drama write up is preserved below.
================
Hey Alexina server! 
If you know me, you probably know me as Eralea. A small subset of you, however, may know me as Naryador - longtime active member and current leader of Elvencrusade. 
The drama mentioned in the title of this post occurred partially in my guild discord server, and is how I ended up taking up the leadership position (cleaning up all their fallout - thanks, ladies!)
You may have seen this FB post from Graterilsi/Aisha/Donna/Daphne/whatever name she’s going by now (she changes it as often as she changes her fashionogi). You may also have seen this response from Ruricy/Daisy/Yuno. For the most part, their stories mostly focus on the followup weeks and only vaguely allude to the explosive drama directly preceding the part where Ruricy gets Aisha locked up. 
I’m here to tell that prequel story. This dates back to late last year, blowing up on the 11th of Dec 2018.
Elvencrusade and Prudentia had been guild allies for most of the year at that point - the officers from Prudentia were taking a more active role in the alliance by joining the Elvencrusade guild server. What none of them knew was that there was an undercurrent of hostility among the Elvencrusade members the entire time they were there, centered around one individual called Milktea7.
MILKTEA7 VS PRUDENTIA
Milktea7 was not in Elvencrusade. He was friends with many of the guild members, so he was allowed in the server as a guild ally. He also had previous drama with one of the officers of Prudentia, which led him to have a bad reputation with many of their members. His friends sided with him, obviously, and they were out to get the Prudentians.
Every day, every single day, Elvencrusade management would hear Aisha demanding in voice chat to “kick out the Prudentia spies”, “block them from all the channels”, “ban all the naive bitches”. Ruricy would report back from outings with Aisha, saying that she’d spent the day complaining about them and gossiping about their past dramas. 
This happened throughout the entire two months we had the Prudentian officers as guests in our server. We attempted to explain that we were allies with them, we tried to compromise by limiting them to only the public channels - nada. None of it was satisfactory enough for the Aisha and Milktea7 faction.
(It should be noted that the Prudentia members are not entirely innocent in all this - they would also nag us to break ties with Milktea7, telling us to just kick him out of the server, asking us why were we associating with such a toxic person. They’d send us complaints about him, as if he was part of our guild. PSA: Milktea7 was never part of Elvencrusade, please send your complaints to his actual guild and actual guild leader, thanks.)
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Kicking Milktea7 out at this point would have greatly destabilised the guild, given that many core members at the time were openly siding with Milktea7 and believed that the Prudentia girls were intentionally provoking him to get a reaction out of him. On the other hand, select members of management (actually mostly Ruricy) was friendly with Prudentia and didn’t want to upset them either. 
In hindsight, trying to please all these ticking time bombs was a mistake, because they were going to explode eventually.
RURICY AND AISHA LIGHT THE FUSE
On that fateful day, we received a request from Prudentia: They wanted us to allow their other officer into our guild server - the one who previously had drama with Milktea7. Elvencrusade guild management agreed that this was a definitely a no-go and that we would quietly and politely decline their request, given past history and current tensions.
For some reason, Ruricy didn’t pick up on the part about declining their request, and immediately goes to Aisha, saying “GOOD NEWS! [drama officer] is joining EC!!”
This provokes Aisha to go into the VC to repeat to everyone that [drama officer] was joining the guild (she wasn’t), starting a massive wave of FUD among the members. Aisha was threatening to leave the guild and start her own guild and server “without any bitches and spies in it”. Some people were freaking out and saying they didn’t know what Elvencrusade management were up to, forcing them to get along with these “spies”. Other people started telling stories about [drama officer]’s past scandals. 
Amidst all this chaos, a different officer of Prudentia chooses this unfortunate moment to enter the VC. Milktea7 immediately flames her and accuses her of snooping, and everyone leaves the channel. Aisha requests that I set up a VC that was limited only to guild members, because those horrible untrustworthy spies were intruding on private discussions.
Meanwhile, Faith, the leader of Prudentia, was DMing me to complain about his officer-girlfriend being abused in the Elvencrusade VC, as well as to get to the bottom of the whole drama. While I was trying to explain the situation to him, I suddenly hear Aisha saying in the new guild-only VC that “Nary is talking to Prudentia, she’s taking their side!”.
See, Faith had assured me that the discussion about the drama would be limited to only the members of management within both guilds. Aisha was not a member of Elvencrusade management, for very good reason - she’s a drama-monger. She’s quick to throw fits and spread stories of questionable veracity. And given that she was the one person who was demanding the ousting of Prudentia the most, she was the absolute last person who should be hearing about it. Faith explained to me that she was their friend IRL and that she was in that VC, so of course they were talking to her about it.
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This is the point where I realised Aisha had been two-faced towards the Prudentians the entire time - pretending to be their friend IRL and in DMs, while turning around and screeching in the VC every day to demand they be kicked out of the server. I also suddenly understood why she had been referring to them as “naive bitches” all this while.
I opted not to alert Faith and the rest of Prudentia about this. He believed that Aisha was his friend, and he was likely to take her word over mine, anyway. Honestly, it’s not my problem, and I don’t really care if she wants to play them all like fools. My problem was that she (and Milktea7) was bringing their drama into my guild and causing a rift between the members.
(Side story: This wasn’t even the first time Aisha brought Prudentia-related drama into the Elvencrusade server. We had previously been unwilling witnesses to a Prudentia vs Movimentum argument that she was fanning the flames of. Like, seriously, can you guys not use us as a battleground? FFS)
THE FALLOUT
When I woke up the next morning, I was informed that Ruricy had a psychotic freakout, tried to force Aisha to pick between herself and Milktea7, and then finally called the cops on Aisha.
That story is told elsewhere and I’m sure everyone has already enjoyed most of it anyway. 
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I would like to point out that no one in Elvencrusade has been “tortured” by Milktea7 - that’s all in her head. The reason she accused us of not acknowledging her pain is because no one else would agree with her about him “torturing” people. (As far as I can tell, he “tortured” her by telling her that her boyfriend is manipulating her and by being rude to said boyfriend.)
He is an entertaining jackass, however, I’ll give you that.
I’m sure Ruricy will type out another outrageously long response to this post, so I’m going to say this now - I can’t be bothered arguing with whatever insane bullshit you come up with this time.
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No, seriously. You drag people into a whirlpool of nonsense and then conclude something completely different from what people are saying. You were the sweetest person ever 99% of the time you were in Elvencrusade, and then all this happened and you revealed your hidden psycho bitch to us. It’s really telling when, despite all the awful backstabbing shit Aisha has done, everyone in the guild still sides with her over you. All these other people who don’t know the real you might fall for your manipulation, but I’m not making that mistake any more. 
I also know exactly what Aisha is going to say in response to this too - she’s going to say that Nary broke her trust again. No, babe, you broke my trust when you created a huge pile of lies and bullshit for me to clean up. I know you’ve been telling a highly dramatised one-sided version of this story in Viper’s circle. Did you tell them your role as the poisonous snake? I doubt it. Make no mistake - I was fucking worried sick when you were locked up and I side with you when it comes to how Ruri treated you, but you need to stop causing me so much damn trouble.
Milktea7 has since left the guild discord server and threw a fit when I refused to let him back in. He doesn’t seem to understand that this is his own mistake - his drama caused the guild to split, and most of his friends had left to form their own guild. There is very little support for him within the remaining and new members. I know you’re reading this, Milk - it’s entirely your own fault if the majority wants to keep you out.
Last but not least, Ruricy had the conceit to believe that Elvencrusade would disband after she left. (HAHAHAHAHAHAH) She was also wrong about that - we’re still here and still active. 
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If you’re looking for friends and would like to join in on mafia, food debates and karaoke night, pop an application at the guild stone at the Filia Moon Gate. We run nightly Girg raids at 8pm Sydney time and the occasional black dragon spam. Guild rules: No drama-mongers and no using general chat as a battlefield. I’ll cut you 💚
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drarrymylove · 7 years ago
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Oh! You are doing prompts? I know you can do angst because your soulmate story hurt my heart multiple times. *Sniffles* This is probably silly and I only had a few moments to think of it. But.. what about Draco making a list. Like, 'The 8 reasons I hate you.' Maybe they had a break up and definitely need to get back together. Each number on the list gets progressively weaker until he just admits that he hates that he misses him.. or some shit.
It shouldn’t have surprised Draco that Pansy found a way to break into his flat.  Her abrupt entrance did startle him, but not enough to move him from his place on the sofa.  
“It looks like a fucking crypt in here.  Have you died?” Pansy asked, dropping her things on side table.  She pushed Draco’s feet from the sofa so she had a place to sit.
“Piss off,” Draco mumbled, “I told you I would need some space.”
“Yes, you did, but you’re being an insufferable drama queen.  No one has seen you in weeks.  You skipped my Yule party last week and I’m still furious.”
“You didn’t invite me,” Draco said.
“I never invite anyone!  You know that!  But you’ve always been there.”
“Sorry.”
“Really Draco?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Bloody anything! This isn’t you, you’re laying here in the dark.  No one saw you on Yule.  I’m not letting you spend New Year’s as a blanket burrito on your sofa. Fuck this, I’m turning on some lights,” Pansy lit the lamp on the table beside her.
Draco flinched away from the light, shielding his eyes.
“Merlin, you look like shit,” Pansy said.  
Draco couldn’t argue or even be offended.  He hadn’t even showered in a couple days.  
“I’ve come off weekend-long firewhisky binges and still didn’t have bags under my eyes like you’ve got now. The Draco Malfoy from the first week of December would be mortified to see the Draco Malfoy from right now wasting away like this. You do realize you broke up with him, right?” Pansy said.
Draco bit his lip to keep it from trembling.  Keeping the tears from his eyes was a more difficult battle.  
“Whatever.  I really didn’t come here for you.  I’m being entirely selfish,” Pansy started.
“Which surprises no one,” Draco interrupted.
“Damn right it doesn’t. I’m here to demand you attend my party tonight.  I’ve made bets with, shall we say, certain friends.  You could make me quite a bit of money if you show up.”
“What do you, of all people, need with more money?”
“Who are you, of all people, to ask a stupid question like that?”
“Fine,” Draco said, “How would I help you win your bet.”
“I bet them I could get you to come,” Pansy said. “No one believes me.”
“So everyone just wants to gawk at me and mumble things like ‘poor thing’ and ‘wow, he fucked up’? No thanks, I’ll just stay home.”
“Why would anyone think you’re the ‘poor thing’? You’re the one being an arse. And now a hermit.”
“You really do suck at this,” Draco said, settling back into the sofa cushions.
“I was upfront about my intentions and motivations.”
Draco didn’t answer.  
Pansy looked around the flat, making no effort to keep the judgement off her face.  She stood, gathered a number of empty dishes from the coffee table and sent them to the sink with the flick of her wand.  A few cleaning spells later, she stopped to look at the jumble of papers the teacups and empty plates had previously hidden.  She picked up the one that was the least crumpled.
“The hell is this?” she asked.
“Paper.”
“Wise ass”
She smoothed the paper out a bit more and turned on the overhead light.  Ignoring a groan from Draco, she sat back down with her new found treasure.
She read, “Eight reasons I hate Harry Potter.”
Draco sat up and reached for the paper.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Pansy said.  She twisted quickly, digging her feet into Draco’s chest. “You interrupt me even once, and you’re getting PT’d.  And don’t even think of threatening me, I know your wand’s in the kitchen.”
“Fine.  You want to read it, go ahead.  None of that is a secret,” Draco said, doing his best to cross his arms with Pansy’s feet in the way.
“Number one.  He asked me to marry him,” Pansy read. “Darling, you’re supposed to hate your partner AFTER years of loveless marriage and disappointing sex. Was the sex already that bad?”
“No,” Draco said through gritted teeth.
“Explain,” Pansy said.
Draco’s eyes widened.
“Not the sex, good lord, I mean why this is number one.”
“I didn’t want to be some achievement on his road to being normal.  How would I not notice that he asked me to marry him less than 5 minutes after Weasley asked Hermione to marry him?  I refuse to feel like he only asked me because all his best friends were being paired off and he didn’t want to be left out,” Draco said.
“You are so stupid.  You should have at least kept the ring,” Pansy said.
“I didn’t bother to look at it.”
“You said no before you looked at the ring!? Who the hell turns down a Greta ring!?”
“Greta?”
“You know, the blacksmith everyone says has goblin blood? She only makes custom orders and her current wait list is almost eight months just for the consultation.  Even then, she isn’t guaranteed to take the commission. You could have been so spoiled.  Poor Granger didn’t get a ring. Well, not her own.  I think she ended up with an heirloom from her muggles.  But he didn’t have it when he asked.  If she was disappointed, she did a good job of hiding it.”
He had been planning it for at least a year? Draco chest felt tight as he forced himself to take a deep breath. When he didn’t speak, Pansy looked back to the list.
“Number Two: He refuses to look presentable even when it’s important,” she read. “Aww, poor baby, were you forced to endure his poor judgement for wearing white socks with black trousers and black shoes?”
“You saw him! We were celebrating my completion of the training program at St. Mungo’s.  We went to one of the nicest restaurants in Wizarding London and he couldn’t be bothered to fix his hair or put on a decent set of dress robes and-”
“He was wearing a SAINT LAURENT SUIT YOU IGNORANT PUREBLOOD!”
Draco was gobsmacked.
“He bought the suit in my shop! That is one of the most expensive muggle lines I carry.  Yes it was muggle, but the suit alone was three-thousand muggle.  That’s- that’s more than 600 galleons.  Plus the shoes, the tie, the damned pocket square.  I squeezed every last galleon I could out of him.  He was better dressed than you that night!  I even made, I mean, convinced him to get the solid gold cuff links and tie pin, I’ll admit, that was the easy part, but you- Draco.  I’m insulted.”
“It can’t be helped that I don’t share your enthusiasm for Muggle fashion.”
“It’s not enthusiasm. It’s expertise, and as for his hair
you weren’t complaining when you couldn’t keep your hands off it.  It was rather off-putting.”
“Number three: Kissed me in front of Mother,” Pansy continued.  “Okay, I’ll give you that one. He probably picked up that casual and indecent displays of affection from his friends.  I bet Ron kisses Hermione in front of his parents.”
“I mean, it was embarrassing.  I know Mother knows we kiss, but-”
Pansy cut him off, “I’m still angry about the blatant disregard for the way I dressed him for your celebration dinner, you don’t get to speak until you apologize. Number four: I hate Potter for forcing his friends on me.? Hurry up and apologize because you have to explain to me how this works.”
“I’m sorry I expected a wizard to wear wizard’s robes to a restaurant in wizarding London. What do you mean explain?”
“I mean why is it so bad to spend a little bit of time with his friends?  It’s a small price to pay isn’t it?  He is very good at pretending he isn’t miserable when he comes to brunch with us even when Blaise flirts with you right in front of him or when Millicent kept showing him pictures of her cats.  When was the last time one of his friends talked about his arse while making direct contact with you? Hm?  You do realize you don’t have to be their friend.  You just have to, well, had to, love Harry enough to let him have his favorite people all in one place for a little while.  That’s what he did for you.  He hated me for ages, but after a while, it didn’t matter.  We both wanted to be around you and that meant sometimes being around each other.”
Draco pulled away from Pansy, finally pushing her feet off him.  He pulled his legs to his chest and rested his chin on his knee.  “You’re making it difficult to stay angry.”
“If you want to stay angry, try harder.  I’m literally reading you a list of all the reasons you hate your ex-boyfriend.  It’s not my fault your list sucks.”
Draco was now fighting tears.  Unwilling to admit they were from anything but frustration, he let Pansy continue.
“Number Five: He shuts me out. I don’t understand,” Pansy said, with noticeably less venom to her words.
“He won’t let me in.  I know things still get to him, even after years.  He still has nightmares.  He never talks about it.  Harry will still have days where he looks so far away and he won’t talk to me.  I’m right there and he shuts me out.”
“But you’re there.”
“I’m always there.  I never kick him out of bed when his insomnia keeps him awake and he won’t sit still.  I don’t leave when he is in a bad mood for reasons he won’t discuss.  I don’t get angry when he won’t stop making noise,” Draco said.
“Making noise?” Pansy asked softly.
“He gets anxious sometimes.  He taps his fingers, bounces his knee, tics that make noise that drive me mad, but I don’t say anything because I know he can’t help it.  He never talks to me about it though.  Even when he gets really bad and doesn’t notice he’s rapping his knuckles on the table; I’ll take his hand, hold his hand, to make him stop instead of telling him he’s getting on my nerves.  When Harry would look at me, I could tell there was so much still bothering him that he never talked about,” Draco said.
“But you’re there,” she said again.
“Yeah.”
“You are not hearing me.  You are there for him.  That is what he needed from you.  Not everyone is able to talk about things.  The things he went through, what you went through.  There aren’t words enough to say what keeps you two up at night.  Some day, that may change.  But Draco, you don’t talk about anything either.  Being with Harry was enough for you.  You have said that to me on more than one occasion.  You had no words for the hurt, the anger, the shame and regret.  You never opened up, but you said that having someone who knew and understood, having him made each day bearable.  Maybe that was what you were to him, too.”
“Not anymore though,” Draco said, his words catching in his throat.
“Which brings me to the next one, I suppose. Number Six: He didn’t try to stop me.”  
Draco hugged his legs tighter.  Turning to face Pansy, he said, “He just let me go.  I said I didn’t want to be his safety net.  I didn’t want to be the stand in while he tried to create his own version of what all his friends have.  If he wanted me, he had to want me. He has always been so self-sacrificing; I would hate myself and eventually him if he was only with me because he thought that was what was expected of him.”
Pansy brushed her fingers down Draco’s cheek, “Sweetie, this is going to sound terrible, but no one wants you two together.”
Draco gave a short laughed, “It’s only funny because I know what you mean.”
“Good,” Pansy said, smiling. “I want you two together.  I know his friends were rooting for you.  Your mother loves him for some reason.  Probably for how happy you were with him.  If he wanted to live up to the proverbial ‘everyone’s’ expectations, he would have stayed with Ginny.  Sure they could have been happy and loved each other.  But they would have gone their entire lives knowing or maybe just wondering if maybe there wasn’t something a bit more, you know?”
“That still doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t fight for me.  He has not come to see me, sent me an owl, a text, anything.  I can’t go to him.  What would I say? ‘I know I threw our future away because I was scared you would eventually get tired of me and it would kill me when that day came, but I’m back now so let’s pretend nothing ever happened.’ I do not see that being a reasonable start to conversation.” Draco said.
“I do.  Did you not hear yourself?”
“As much as I love the sound of my own voice, I don’t remember word for word what I say when I’m mid-tirade.”
“You said you wouldn’t marry him because you were scared. Number Seven,” Pansy said as she continued to read the list, “He let me ruin everything.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“This is the same as number six, nothing but more trademark drama queen,” Pansy said.
“Anything.  He could have said anything and I would have stayed.  Harry said nothing and just let me leave.  At this point, how do you fix something like this.  Maybe right then, or even the next day.  It has been almost a month and Harry does not want me back.”
“How many times have you called him? Sent him a text or an owl?”
“None, but-”
“How do you know he doesn’t want you back,” Pansy asked. “You are a complete mess and you have not once tried to contact him either.  How do you know you didn’t break his heart?  How do you know he’s not hiding on his sofa practically growing mushrooms, too?”
“Why would he? He asked me to marry him and I threw his ring on the ground, and said I refused to be an accessory simply so he wouldn’t be the only one of his golden trio that wasn’t living the picture perfect domestic bliss.  I would hate me for the rest of my life if I had done that.”
Pansy looked up at Draco with tears in her eyes, her hand pressed over her mouth.
“What?”
She shook her head, moved her hand enough to speak, “You threw a Greta ring on the ground.”
“It was still in the box.”
“Small mercies, I suppose.” Pansy brushed the tears from her eyes, avoiding her makeup, and read the last item on the list, “Number Eight: I hate how much I miss him.  I hate that he deserves someone who can love him half to death and make him so very happy.  I hate that I am not the one doing that right now.”
Draco got up off the sofa and made his way toward the kitchen, “It is just a stupid list.”
Pansy watched as he poured water into a glass straight from the tap and drank it down.  “Yes, Draco.  Most of these things were pretty stupid.” She looked at the clock, “You know, there are still a couple hours before midnight.  You can still make it to my New Year’s Day Countdown.  I’m sure we can find you someone to kiss at midnight.”
Draco looked back at Pansy. “You could have just said that Harry was there.”
“Yes.  Harry is currently at my house, at my party, while I’m here begging you to stop being an idiot.  Like I said, there are a couple hours before midnight so for the love of all that is magic, wash up first.  You smell almost as bad as you look.”
Draco said nothing even as Pansy left.  There was no way he was going to stroll into Parkinson Manor just before midnight expecting a kiss and Harry’s open arms.  There, also, was no way he could stay home.  Before he could let himself become overwhelmed, Draco decided to start with something he could definitely handle.  He would start with a shower.
It was almost ten minutes past midnight, and Draco had not yet entered the ballroom.  The new year was already ticking by, the champagne bottles were all open, confetti and glitter covered the floor, and all the kisses were over. Draco took a steadying breath and entered the ballroom. Almost immediately, Harry stood in front of him.  Draco couldn’t look him in the face.
“Happy New Year, Draco.”
“Happy New Year, Harry.”
A short silence was followed by a rush of words, “I had no idea Ron was proposing to Hermione that day.”
“Pansy helped me figure that one out,” Draco said.
Harry broke another long pause. “I know you said you didn’t want to see me again.  I really needed you to know that though. I know how much it upset you,” he said, and he turned to leave.
Draco panicked and grabbed Harry’s hand.  Draco’s words caught in his throat before he was able to force them out, “Tell me this is over, that we are over.  I’ve ruined everything.”
Harry shook his head and turned to face Draco, “It’s only over if you say it is. I meant what I said.  I will be yours forever if you will let me.”
Draco was still unable to look at Harry.  He nodded and said, “Yeah, but that was before. I can’t make the past four weeks not exist.”
Harry took Draco’s chin in his hands and force Draco to look him in the eyes. “Draco Malfoy, I will be yours forever if you will let me.”
Draco felt a mix of disbelief and relief, “Anything. Anything you want.”
Harry smiled and the everything was right again.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t the one you kissed at midnight.  I was too busy being a coward outside the ballroom door,” Draco said.
“I resent that implication,” Harry said. “I haven’t kissed anyone all year.” Then he leaned forward slowly, as if silently asking permission when Draco’s lips met his.
The kiss, however brief, was soft and sweet and left Draco’s heart pounding. He smiled and said, “Now you have.”
“Now I have. Can you stay with me tonight? Can we go soon?” Harry asked.
Draco answered, “I meant what I said, too. ‘Anything you want’ Harry.”
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newssplashy · 6 years ago
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Sani Abacha: 20 years after the death of the late Head of State, what is his legacy?
2 decades after the death of General Sani Abacha, it is important that we never forget his legacy.
Today, June 8, 2018, marks the 20th anniversary of the death of General Sani Abacha. He was Nigeria's 10th Head of State.
I remember the day the clearly. I had just gotten back from school and was on the balcony because there was no power supply. My mother ran into the living room and screamed these words 'Abacha is dead'.
I saw a lot of people rejoicing on the streets that day. I too celebrated. As a matter of fact, I stepped on an iron nail but couldn't care less about tetanus. The troubler of Israel was no more. 
 With his trademark RayBan aviators, the General from Kano, born in 1943, ruled the nation with a tight grip.
After his death, the process to return the country to democratic rule was swift.
On May 29, 1999, Olusegun Obasanjo (a former military Head of State jailed under Abacha's regime) was sworn in as a civilian president.
Nigeria's has had four democratically elected presidents since 1999, Obasanjo, Yar'Adua, Jonathan and Buhari.
For some, the memories of Khaki boys is nothing but the distant past. As Nigeria gears up for another election, the days of military rulers are now blurry to many young people.
Abacha does not bring up the fondest or happiest of memories for many who lived during this period. Yet, older Nigerians have a habit of glorifying the past no matter how bad it was.
In January 2017, I posted a video of the late General addressing Nigerians for the first time on my Twitter account.
 I was shocked to see people express their admiration for the dictator. Some even called for a reset to these days to flush Nigeria of its corrupt politicians. A tired and old sentiment used by many soldiers to stage coups.
Tunde (not real name) a 21-year old undergraduate of the Obafemi Awolowo University believes Nigeria needs a strong leader like Abacha. "All this nonsense that is happening in th country now, if Abacha was a live it won't happen. Do you think Boko Haram would be killing people anyhow?" he asked me.
It's hard to even start discussing with him. He wasn't even born when Abacha took power and was just a year old when he died.  Tunde represents a number young Nigerians who are disillusioned with the current political system of the country.
The recent disturbing praise heaped on the late dictator has not only come from millennials. People who were aware to know how Nigeria was from 1993-1998 have had nice words for Abacha.
One of them is our present leader, President Buhari. He praised the late dictator for building roads.
"No matter what opinion you have about Abacha, I agreed to work with him and the PTF road we did from here to Port Harcourt, to Onitsha, to Benin and so on... On top of other things in the institution, education, medical care and so on" he said. It was a controversial statement.
 In 2014, the Goodluck Jonathan administration chose Sani Abacha as one of Nigeria's greatest heroes for "unity, patriotism and national development." 
Even in popular culture, the reverence of Abacha as a 'bad guy' is present. There are T-shirts with his image printed on them. His RayBan aviators, a symbol of fear in the 90s, served as an inspiration of a rap song by a popular Nigerian rapper.
 One of the lowest moments of the General Sani Abacha regime was the execution of the 'Ogoni Nine' made up of human rights activist Ken Saro Wiwa along with Saturday Dobee, Nordu Eawo, Daniel Gbooko, Paul Levera, Felix Nuate, Baribor Bera, Barinem Kiobel, and John Kpuine.
A kangaroo court (more or less) found them guilty. The Ogoni 9 were hung afterwards.
 The tragic incident was condemned, both home and abroad. It further made Nigeria a pariah state.
Ken Saro Wiwa's daughter Noo Saro Wiwa exclusively spoke to Pulse. She described it as strange for some Nigerians to look back on the Abacha years positively.
"The idea that we can look back favourably on the 90s is strange. It shows how low our expectations have fallen. There was no press freedom or space for political protests in those days, and child mortality was lower.
As a nation, we need to stop looking backwards and start thinking forwards. Recycling old leaders hasn’t worked" she told Pulse.
The Abacha regime is also synonymous with corruption. It is alleged that the Abacha family made way with ÂŁ5 billion of the country's wealth.
There have been several claims that Abacha did not steal the country's money but rather kept in Swiss banks for safekeeping. As ludicrous as it may sound to you, it holds weight in some quarters.
Former Chief of Army Staff, Ishaya Bamaiyi in 2017 echoed these sentiments and further went on to claim that the late Head of State transferred money to some European countries to enable Nigeria to continue peacekeeping missions in the West African region. 
 Unfortunately, this claim has filtered down from the hills of power to the streets.
In May 2018, popular Nigerian fashionista Noble Igwe wrote this about Sani Abacha while rocking a t-shirt with his face on it, "... the former Military head of state whom after his death became the country’s saving account in diaspora." It might have been a joke but it's a sentiment that a lot of people harbour.
And herein lies the major reason why some Nigerians look back at the Abacha years favourably.
1994-1997, his regime increased the foreign exchange reserves from $494m to $9.6b. He also reduced the external debt of Nigeria from $36b to $27b in three years. General Sani Abacha was able to also reduce the inflation inherited from the IBB administration.
Within the current economic context, it might be tempting to hail the late dictator as an economic genius.
"Even Abacha who was a dictator left the economy to be run by experts and the economy did well then," said Akpan Ekpo, former Director of the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN).
Not surprisingly, in 2016, Abacha's economic stats were reproduced by his oldest daughter on her Instagram account. (Gumsu Sani Abacha was reached severally for comments about her father. She did not respond to any of them.)
She did however write this about her father today on her Instagram page, "20 year's gone by... may ALLAH swt bless your soul. May he forgive your shortcomings and may Aljannah Firdaus be your final abode. Ameen. ALLAH ya jikan ka da rahamar sa. We miss you so much."
 Apart from the economy, Abacha paid a lot of attention to political stability within the West African region also. The Economic Community of West African States Monitoring Group (ECOMOG) during his rule was successful in Liberia and Sierra Leone.
In sports, Abacha's performance was mixed. The Super Eagles won the 1994 Nations Cup, gave a strong performance at the World Cup in America and won the U-23 football competition at the Atlanta '96 Olympics.
 The Olympics in 1996 was also Nigeria's best performance at the event with 2 gold medals, one silver medal and three bronze medals.
 However, because of human rights violations, Nigeria was not allowed to participate at the '96 and '98 African Cup of Nations.
Fans and sports journalists saw these as missed chances for the Super Eagles to further dominate African football.
By the time the ban was lifted for the Super Eagles to participate in 2000, the talent of the golden generation had started to dwindle.
I tried to reach out to sports journalists to speak on the state of football and sports during the Abacha era but they were unwilling to talk. 20 years after his death, he still strikes fear in the heart of many.
And right there is the legacy of the late Head of State. Fear. The Sani Abacha regime struck fear into the hearts of Nigerians.
 The administration of General Sani Abacha could best be described as a reign of terror and blood, of fear and violence, of bullets and whips.
Human rights activists were assassinated, hung, and locked up in prison. To speak up against the Abacha regime was to dance with death.
Kudirat Abiola, Pa Alfred Rewane, two human rights activists were allegedly assassinated by the leader of Abacha's hit squad, Sgt. Rogers.
 The late Alex Ibru and Abraham Adesanya had attempts on their lives during this period. Luckily they escaped. Professor Wole Soyinka went into self-exile in 1994. Three years later he was charged with treason in absentia.
Soyinka was not the only one to have gone into exile during this period.
Many members of the National Democratic Coalition (NADECO) including present political juggernaut Bola Ahmed Tinubu left Nigeria for fear of being killed.
 We can't also forget MKO Abiola, the presumed winner of the June 12 elections in 1993. In 1994, after an international trip to gain support from foreign countries, MKO came back to Nigeria and declared himself President.
Abacha's regime did not take this move lightly. Abiola was declared wanted, arrested and accused of treason. The billionaire turned politician stayed in detention for four years. Abiola died with the June 12 mandate, 29 days after the death of Abacha in 1998.
 The former head of state Olusegun Obasanjo was arrested during the Abacha years and imprisoned for his supposed role in a phantom coup.
While Obasanjo made it out alive, his deputy when he was Head of State wasn't so lucky. Shehu Musa Yar'adua, former Chief of Staff, died in captivity in 1997.
Abacha not only dealt with his political opponents but the media as well.
"It was a period when journalists, civil society activists and the few principled politicians in the country were targets of the regime," said Olusegun Adeniyi who was the Assistant Editor at Sunday Concord during the Abacha years.
"Bagauda Kaltho was bombed to death. Kunle Ajibade, Chris Anyanwu and others were jailed for being accessories after the fact of a coup. Many were forced into exiles. My editor (at African Concord magazine), Soji Omotunde was dragged from a moving vehicle on the street of Lagos, leaving him almost crippled while my friend and colleague, Mohammed Adamu, should have enough stories to tell his grand-children" he further remembered.
On Christmas Day in 1995, Nosa Igiebor, then Editor-In-Chief of TELL Magazine was arrested by security operatives. He spent six months in detention and was later released on June 26, 1996.
At the end of the day, Abacha is not a fashion icon or economic guru. He was a totalitarian, a dictator that ruled Nigeria with fear.
According to the New York Times and the Christian Science Monitor, in 1971 Abacha's superiors recommended that he should not be promoted beyond the rank of colonel because he was not "stable enough for higher command."
Yet, in 1990 when he became a full General, Abacha became the first Nigerian military officer not to skip a rank.  By 1993, he became the ruler of the most populous black nation on earth via a palace coup.
 There are many millennials who do not totally understand what it meant to live in Sani Abacha's Nigeria. Some older Nigerians have forgotten the reign of terror as they groan and moan about this present administration.
There is no negotiating the legacy of Sani Abacha. It is absolute in its brutality.
"General Abacha established a distinctive record of brutal rule. Nigerian human rights groups, clandestinely active in the country and openly critical in exile, have charged that more people were arrested in his five and a half years in power than in the five decades of British rule" wrote the New York Times in Abacha's obituary.
 A few months before his shocking death, The Christian Science Monitor described him as "most dangerous leader in the world."
Noo Saro Wiwa defines his legacy as "the regime reached such lows that a return to democracy was the only option: the Commonwealth had expelled Nigeria, and British Airways suspended its flights after my father and his eight colleagues were murdered. The Abacha years increased the cynicism and distrust among Nigerians, which served to entrench corruption."
Despite the Sani Abacha regime's execution of her father, she does not have any hatred for the man.
"No, my family doesn’t hate him. We don’t waste our mental energy on someone like him. Abacha was one of the most brutal dictators but he was also the symptom of Nigeria’s problems, which means there were other men equally capable of doing what he did.
Many players were involved in the murder of the Ogoni Nine, and millions of people besides our family have suffered. So my anger is diffused in many directions within this morally bankrupt system. It’s not all about one dead man" she told Pulse.
The system that produced Sani Abacha still exists today. It might no longer produce military dictators but it still creates corrupt and inefficient leaders.
 Nigeria has made a lot of progress from the dark days irrespective of what cynics say but there is still a lot of work to be done.
"There are more technocrats, and the political scene is not as strongly ethnic-based as before, but we still have no electricity and other basic amenities," said Noo Saro-Wiwa during her brief interview with Pulse.
"No administration has dealt with Boko Haram effectively or addressed its root causes, and we still depend too much on oil revenues. It feels rather cyclical. I have much more hope in the younger generation, however. The under-40s will be the ones to turn things around" she further said.
 These are the set of Nigerians who should know what it meant to live in Nigeria during the Abacha years. They must know that his legacy was that of fear and terror. We cannot afford to go back and glorify our dark past.
We must shed light on it so that we might never forget. 20 years after we must still remember.
source https://www.newssplashy.com/2018/06/sani-abacha-20-years-after-death-of.html
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