#but everyone I asked to be my guarantor said no

[aetheros]

🌀 you wanna be my guarantor, you wanna be my guarantor sooo bad

[siriannatan]

Float

This one was sitting in my notes for a long time, unfinished, I read it, and I had to finish it.

I just randomly picked Float by Call Me Karizma from Youtube's recommended as the title...

Scott was not having a good time lately. His whole life has been falling down around him and no matter how much he struggled he could not stop it. All he spent so much effort, energy, time and money building crumbled around him.

His fiance left him mere weeks before their wedding. The company he worked so hard climbing the ladder of suddenly announced bankruptcy. Just after he had to take a massive debt to cover all expenses of cancelling a wedding. His ex was all but gone. No sign of him. No excuse. No apology. No help with this mess.

Over the last month, Scott felt more and more like he was in a hole that was slowly filling with water. Chained to the bottom of it. Only able to powerlessly watch the distant clouds over his head.

When he thought things could not get worse he learned his ex took a massive loan from the mafia to pay for the wedding just to run away with the money. And he put Scott down as a guarantor for said loan.

How did Scott find out? When said mafia group came and grabbed him from his new, mostly empty and terrible apartment. "Boss wants to talk about lover boy and when he can start paying back," they said as they pulled him out and into a back car with tinted windows. 

Scott practically forgot how to speak from how afraid and confused he was. Debt? He thought he paid back all his debts but the one. About halfway to their destination, he realised they weren't normal debt collectors but the mob. And felt even worse. It was a miracle he didn't puke.

Once the car stopped Scott was once again dragged. He didn't struggle hoping there was a way out of this. Maybe I'd he explained he wasn't with that guy anymore 'boss' would let him go? No way...

He was prepared for death the moment he was told to kneel on the uncomfortably hard wooden floor. And left to wait under the watch of four guards. As if he could even move with how scared he was.

A cold shiver went down his spine when he heard the door open. He could only stare at the floor, too terrified to look up as someone moved around him. "So, this is that idiots guarantor?" Cold but nevertheless attractive voice mused. "Look up," the voice ordered and Scott forced himself to look up at the source.

He was met with the cold blue eyes of an undoubtedly handsome man in a dark suit. Copper hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of his head as he whispered something to the tall brunet next to him. Those blue eyes didn't leave Scott for one second. Freezing him in place, unable to explain himself as they leveled him with disinterested curiosity. "I made up my mind," the boss smirked, his entire attention back on Scott. "Everyone out," he ordered, "I want to talk to him alone," he added, sitting back. Relaxing in his seat. "Not like he can hurt me in any way," he rolled his eyes as the guards dragged their feet a bit too much for his liking.

Scott watched in fear as all other people left the room leaving him alone with possibly the most dangerous person in the building. And the hottest but that part of his brain should shut up. It was not helping at all.

"Not going to beg I forget the deb?" The man asked lips forming an amused smirk.

"What would it do? You likely already know what you want to do with me..." Scott shrugged. There was no escape. Why else would he send his men away? "I don't know where my ex is. Why he did do it. When..." Scott froze as time man shifted and removed his blazer. Did he not want Scott's blood on it?

"I see," he hummed, eyes glancing away for just a second. "I want a drink, brink me one," he suddenly grinned, pointing to where he glanced with his chin.

Scott scrambled to follow the order. Who else would he be asking? Where he was pointed was an elegant, likely very expensive mini-bar set-up. Glasses for various drinks. Various bottles with expensive labels. "What would you like?" Scott asked even if he'd prefer to run away.

"One Bloody Mary," the man requested as if it were simple to make. 

Scott nodded, feeling his hands shake. How long was it since he was a bartender? College was a long time ago. Luckily he occasionally practiced at home. Nothing as crazy as he was asked now but he used to be able to make a good Mary. With deep focus, he got to work.

He was pretty proud of the result as he brought it to the man on a silver platter. He watched with held breath as the man took a sip to then... 

Spill it over Scott.

"Good enough," he grinned as Scott blinked away shock. Biting his tongue to not snap at the man as he set the now empty glass away. "You're wet. Strip."

Scott could not move for a second. Strip? As in naked. No way... With those cold eyes narrowing he slowly got to it. It beat dying, right?

"The name's fWhip and unfortunately for you, while I tend to avoid human trafficking I like your face so I decided to keep you," the man grinned as Scott fought the urge to curl up and cry. Keep him? Like a pet? "All you have to do is be pretty, stick close to me and be fine with being touched. A lot. Don't worry I'm not the type to share his toys." 

Scott shuddered at his words. Toy. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes as he let his shirt slowly slide down his arms before working on his jeans. At least fWhip didn't mind the slow pace.

"Stop looking like I'm about to kill you, as long as you behave you're very safe," fWhip hummed. His tie was gone and he was slowly opening his dark red undershirt. Scott's breath hitched. He wouldn't... It wasn't part of the... A lot of touching... It absolutely was. He absolutely was about to be fWhip's sex toy. With that realisation, tears started to slowly flow for real. 

fWhip sighed and stood up. "Stop," he said grabbing Scott's chin shockingly gently for how annoyed he looked. "I don't think any got in your eyes... Are you really so scared of me touching you? Fucking you?" He asked, not letting go of Scott's chin.

"Yes..." Scott said with a simple nod being out of the question. 

"Unfortunately, I do not care how you feel about this whole thing," he grinned petting Scott's cheek briefly before returning to his seat. "But be sure that as long as I'm happy with you, no one is allowed to harm you." Scott nodded, thankful that fWhip's hands were off of him. "I'm more of a jealous type, don't like to share, as I said." 

Scott just nodded and hurried to finish undressing. He never felt as naked as with fWhip's eyes taking him once all his clothes were a messy pile on the floor. "How about you make me another drink? Martini perhaps?" fWhip requested, his shirt mostly undone. Comfortably lounging in his seat.

Scott nodded and went back to the bar with the tray and the empty glass and set to make the best martini he could while naked and observed constantly. He focused so much on the drink he missed fWhip stood up and walked up behind him. He froze as he was pushed into the minibar. "Is it done?" fWhip asked, breath tickling Scott's ear and neck.

"Nearly," he managed to choke out.

"Carry on then," he could almost feel fWhip's lips against his ear in that drawn-out whisper.

With shaking hands, Scott finished the drink. He hoped fWhip would back off once it was done. "Grab my blazer and follow me," he said instead, grabbing the drink and quickly leaving Scott's personal space.

Scott really hoped they were as alone as they seemed to be. Not one person was in sight as Scott followed fWhip's leisurely pace through elegantly decorated corridors with hardwood floors and occasional soft carpets. He really hoped fWhip wouldn't keep him naked forever. If he was as jealous as he was saying then he surely wouldn't... Would he?

Eventually, fWhip stopped and opened a door motioning for Scott to walk in first with the so-far untouched drink. What did he even want it for?

"Is there a problem?" fWhip hummed, once more far too close as Scott froze. He was led right to a bedroom. "Keep moving, blazer on any chair," a cold hand pushed him forward.

Scott slowly walked deeper into what had to be fWhip's bedroom. Dark curtains hung ominously around most of a giant bed with dark red bedding. All windows were covered by more heavy curtains. Scott hung the blazer over one of the chairs upholstered with red and black flowers. "Come here," fWhip gave him no time to look about or overthink. Motioning him to a door he missed as he looked for chairs and avoided looking at the bed.

fWhip dragged him to a bathroom of dark tiles and gold details. Fluffy white towels lined one level of the only shelf Scott could see. Next had some bath products and third a mysterious basket. "Bathe," fWhip ordered, setting himself on a stool. 

Scott waited for a second. In case he decided to leave him alone. fWhip stayed in his spot, finally taking a sip of his drink. "Go on, I already see everything anyway," he encouraged with a cruel smirk. Eyes taking in Scott's exposed form. "Everything you need is on the shelf."

Shuddering in shame Scott collected what he needed and brought it to the already filled with warm water massive tub. He'd much prefer the shower but he had a feeling that fWhip wanted him in the tub. And it covered him for at least some time.

"What exactly do you want from me?" Scott asked, his back turned to fWhip. There was no argument against it.

"In general? Make me good drinks, be sexy next to me, and spread those pretty legs when I tell you to," fWhip listed off and stopped. Likely for another sip. "Don't worry you'll be dressed at least most of the time," he added, a voice suddenly close. 

fWhip was indeed right next to the tub, fully shirtless, and insisted on washing Scott's hair. Not that he stopped on just his hair. His hands slid down to Scott's shoulders and his chest. 

Noticing that fWhip had no intention of ceasing to touch him Scott blurted out he was done. Realising too late it likely meant worse things. Like fWhip helping him dry out faster just to drag him to the bed by his wrist.

To his shock, all fWhip did was cuddle him. Naked, yes. But that was it. Could fWhip decide he freaked Scott out enough for one day? When did it get late enough for sleep anyway? It was evening when Scott was pulled out of his apartment. And the ride took a while. And there was the whole thing with fWhip's drinks and everything... It wasn't like he had to decide when he wanted to sleep anymore.

Refusing to overthink it Scott did his best to fall asleep. And shockingly did so rather quickly.

He woke up more rested than he did n a while. About since his fiance vanished... His joy of a nice sleep was quickly gone as he felt lips on the back of his neck what had his eyes snapping. Dark sheets and curtains instantly had him remembering fWhip's cold blue eyes. "Morning, hot stuff," fWhip's voice had his shuddering. Was it memories of it tickling his neck was up to debate.

"Mornin'..." Scott muttered not sure what to do with himself. He tensed up as fWhip got in his last cuddles before pulling Scott to have a shared shower. 

After the shower Scott was presented with clothes for the day. When did fWhip even have time to arrange it?

"I have a few meetings, nothing should go wrong so I'm taking you along," fWhip announced as Scott eyed the white button-up, black, really short shorts, garter belt, knee-high socks and shining oxfords. Was he really supposed to go out like that? With a sigh, he started getting dressed.

"And what would I do if you're suspecting there might be trouble?" Scott asked, he really hoped fWhip would not drag him to dangerous places.

"Well, if trouble is expected I'll leave you at home," fWhip shrugged. It was unfair how well he looked in suits. "Someone will bring your stuff and set you a room for such cases," he added pulling on a dark forest green shirt. Dark grey and green looked annoyingly good on fWhip. But it was nice to know he'd be getting at least some of his stuff. He was not dumb enough to think he'd get all of it.

"Am I allowed to let my family and friends know I'm alive?" slim chance but he might as well ask. fWhip certainly had ways of getting cops to not look for Scott even if someone reported him missing without Scott being involved.

"You're free to do anything as long as you don't try to run away," to Scott's shock fWhip didn't mind.

Scott decided he was done talking to fWhip so he stayed silent. And close to his... what should he call fWhip? Boyfriend? That'd do for now. It beat alternatives. And made the situation sound more sane. Even if he was sticking close to a literal mafia boss... He chose to not think about that element too much. If fWhip was telling the truth then all he had to do was be a clingy, cute boyfriend. Which was honestly, the best that could happen to him in his situation.

fWhip took him to breakfast which was served by staff Scott would expect to see in a high-end restaurant. Not private breakfast area - it was too small to be the proper dining space of fWhip's house - overlooking a lush garden full of mostly all kinds of roses. It was also rather intimate. Scott chose to sit as close to fWhip as he could on the comfy loveseat fWhip chose over the no doubt comparably comfy chairs. A kiss to his jaw told him the other was happy.

"Not so scared today?" fWhip hummed as coffee and tea - as per Scott's request - were served.

"I was rather shocked yesterday, I thought about it a bit and... I guess I don't mind being your boyfriend or whatever you want to call it," Scott found himself only partially lying. He'd need some more thinking to decide if the boyfriend part was true. He certainly didn't mind being safe from any other secret debts his boyfriend put him as guarantor for. He just had to stay on fWhip's good side.

fWhip hummed with a small smirk. Clearly pleased as one of his hands found an exposed part of Scott's thigh and lightly squeezed. "I should get you in a maid outfit sometimes," he hummed as the frankly big for just two breakfasts was served. He was likely trying to shake Scott, to make sure he was not lying to him or something like that.

Too bad for him, when not shaken up and tired Scott could easily play along. "It'd certainly look good in one," he hummed and sipped some tea. He could certainly play along if keeping fWhip happy meant he lived longer.

That seemed to pass the test. As fWhip didn't press too much for the remainder of breakfast. After which Scott was led, fWhip's arm alarmingly low around his hips, to a familiar-looking dark car with dark tinted windows. Apparently business was taking fWhip outside his house. Scott made sure to sit as close to fWhip as seatbelts allowed him.

At the first meeting, with two dangerous-looking blondes - Jimmy and Tango as fWhip called them - Scott made a possibly dangerous decision. He ignored the lack of a seat and just sat in fWhip's lap. Lucky for him it was a good decision as it made everyone else uncomfortable and fWhip visibly happy.

They were out the whole day. Whenever Scott even looked at a storefront fWhip bought - had someone go in and buy - whatever Scott even glanced at. And when Scott even muttered something about being hungry they ended up in the best restaurant in the area with fWhip encouraging him to pick whatever he likes. Was fWhip trying to get Scott to genuinely like him with gifts?

Well. When they were back fWhip was, unlike their first evening in the mood to get to know Scott... closer. And was rather rough in the process. Leaving Scott covered in bites, scratches and bruises. When Scott was sure fWhip just left him to clean himself up he was picked up and gently taken care of. Apparently, fWhip left him to get tea and a warm bath ready. And was more than willing to clean and spoil Scott until he passed out from exhaustion.

And he didn't stop there. No. Scott woke up to breakfast in bed. "Today might be a bit dangerous so you'll be staying home, I can carry you to your room if you'd like," fWhip informed him as he got dressed in an all-black suit. "Someone will bring you all your meals and if you need anything just tell someone and they'll get it," he added as Scott considered how confident he was in his ability to walk after last night.

"Fine, I'll stay at home," Scott pouted. Shocking even himself with how genuinely upset he was fWhip had to go. At least fWhip had the decency to promise he'd be back as soon as possible after he carried Scott the short distance to his room. Amount of guards and other staff present had Scott glad he wrapped himself in a blanket.

A whole day without fWhip was shockingly boring. Scott called his friends and family to assure them he was safe. Just going through some life changes. He avoided giving out too many details just in case. But with that done he had little to do. He reorganised his closet. Bossing fWhip's 'staff' around has provided some amusement.

But by the time the fWhip and his unfairly sexy suit were back, Scott was ready to scream at the 'guards' to tell fWhip he was lonely. At least with fWhip around he wasn't bored. Having hardened criminals scared of him was only fun when he was fWhip's pretty showpiece—not locked in his room.

So of course as soon as fWhip was back Scott jumped him demanding they redo the last night. He did take the offer of it being gentler but after just an hour he was whining and begging for a proper repeat. Who needs gentle when he can have fWhip's tooth marks on him for days after?

[arifhosen129]

An incident during the reign of Caliph Umar (ra):

A young man killed a man, the children of the deceased came to Umar (ra) and said,

"This young man killed our father. We want justice."

Two men dragged the guilty youth to the Caliph's court. They want justice for their father's murder.

*

Caliph Hazrat Umar (ra) asked the young man if the allegations against him were true. The young man admitted the complaint. The guilty youth described the incident:

*

"Having done much hard work I sat down under the shade of a date-palm tree to rest. I soon fell asleep in a tired body. I awoke to find my only vehicle, the camel, gone. I went some distance in search of it, but found it dead. The father of the two complainants was my father. I came across a dead camel. He stoned my camel to death for trespassing in his garden. Because of this I suddenly became angry and while arguing with him at one point hit him on the head with a stone. As a result, he died there. Which happened completely unexpectedly. I apologize for that."

*

The plaintiffs said - "We want the death penalty." Hearing all this, Hazrat Umar (ra) said to the young criminal, "You could have demanded a camel instead of killing a camel, but you have killed an old man. Murder for murder. Now you will be sentenced to death. You can tell me if you have any last wishes." Naujowan said, "I have some loans and some deposits from others. If you had given me a few days, I would have gone home and paid off the deposits and loans."

*

Caliph Hazrat Umar (ra) said, "I cannot leave you alone like this. If you can leave someone in charge on your behalf, then I can let you go for a while." The young man said, "I have no one here to take care of me." The young man then stood motionless.

*

At this time suddenly one of the Companions present in the Majlis stood up and said, "I will be the guarantor of that person. Let him go." Everyone present at the meeting was shocked by this answer of Abu Zar Gifari (ra). It is a stranger, accused of murder! Why is Abu Zar (ra) his guarantor!

Khalifa said, "Nawzwan has been released until Jummah next Friday. If Nawzwan does not return to Medina before Jummah, Abu Zar (ra) will be executed instead of Nawzwan." After being released, the young man ran miles away towards his home. Abu Zar Giffari (ra) went to his home.

*

Zumbabar came to see. There is no news of the new arrival. Hazrat Umar (ra) sent the state messenger to Abu Zar Ghifari (ra). Written in the letter, if the young man does not come after Friday, according to the law, Abu Zar Giffari (ra) will be executed. May Abu Zar (ra) appear at Masjid an-Nabawi with preparations for Jummah on time. After hearing the news, the entire Madina was stunned. An innocent companion Abu Zar Giffari (ra) will be sentenced to death today without guilt. After Friday, everyone in Madinah appeared in front of the Prophet's Mosque. Tears in everyone's eyes. Because the convicted youth has not yet returned. The executioner is ready.

*

There is no count of how many people have been executed in life. But today the executioner can't stop the tears. No one in Madinah can accept that a companion like Abu Zar (ra) will be sentenced to death today without any guilt. Even the Caliph Umar, who ordered the execution, was worried. His heart is heavy. Yet the law will run at its own pace. No one has a hand to change. Abu Dharr (ra) was still ready to die with a smile on his face. The executioner walks slowly towards Abu Dharr (ra) and cries. Today, the feet of the executioner do not move. It is as if someone has tied a stone to the leg.

*

At that time, a companion said to the executioner in a loud voice, "O executioner, stop for a moment. Look who is coming from the dust storm of the desert. Maybe it is the footsteps of the young horse. Take a look." When the horse is near, it can be seen that this is indeed the young man.

*

Naujowan hurriedly came before the Khalifa and said, "Amirul Mu'minin, excuse me. If my horse had not suffered leg pain on the road, I would have come on time. I did not delay at all in going home. On reaching home I paid the accumulated deposits and debts. Then father, mother and I opened everything to the bride and said goodbye and left for Madinah preparing for death. Now release my surety brother and sanctify me by execution. Because I don't want to stand before God as a murderer on the Day of Judgment."

*

Everyone around is completely silent. The situation is completely stagnant all around. Everyone is shocked, what is going to happen! The return of the young man surprised everyone.

*

Caliph Hazrat Umar (ra) said to the young man, "You know you will be sentenced to death, why do you come back?" In reply, the young man said - "I have returned, so that no one can say that one Muslim came forward to help another Muslim and fell into danger himself."

*

Hazrat Umar (ra) asked Hazrat Abu Zar Giffari (ra), "Why did you become its guarantor despite the fact that you do not know?" In reply, Hazrat Abu Zar Giffari (ra) said, "Let no one later say that a Muslim was in danger, but no one came forward to help him."

*

Hearing this, suddenly one of the two sons of the old man said, "O Caliph, release him. We have withdrawn the charges against him."

*

Hazrat Umar (ra) said, "Why are you forgiving him?" One of their brothers said, "Let no one say that a Muslim has committed an unwanted mistake and apologized, but another Muslim has not forgiven him."

[Hayatus Sahaba-844]

The image is symbolic

#Copied

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

3 Years Of Presidency - The Interview

On the third anniversary of the inauguration of President of Ukraine Volodymyr Zelenskyy, ICTV hosts Vadym Karpyak and Olena Frolyak interviewed the head of state and First Lady Olena Zelenska. For the first time since the start of a full-scale war.

These two interviewed them since they did the interview three years ago.

Personal note: I tried my best with the translation but can't guarantee that it is 100% correct. Since the interview was about an hour, I summarized what they said about certain topics. Again: I tried my best but can't guarantee I summarized it correctly.

About the interview three years ago.

three years ago, they met when Zelenskyy was a presidential candidate, three months in politics

back then, Zelenskyy said (asked about how he was doing in these three months): He learned that people are not what he thought they were & he started to value his family more

Zelenkyy doesn't remember these answers; the interviews say they do, and Zelenskyy jokes that "Television remembers everything"

About three years of presidency.

the interviewer mentions that Zelenskyy is the "Man Of The Year" in TIME magazine

the interviewer wants to know what Zelenskyy's experience was after three years in Ukrainian and world politics

Zelenskyy says that his values haven't changed

he admits that three years ago, he had no political or diplomatic experience, but today he understands where Ukraine belongs (and his role and job)

world politics is, for him, a place where Ukraine belongs → he truly fights for it with the Ukrainians and the army (everyone)

the war is not only a fight for territory or the whole land but also for a place in the world

they don't want to be a part of another country (an empire) because Ukraine isn't an empire → Ukraine is their own state/country and different; for example, in mentality → they don't want to be an empire, even if given a chance, because that's not who Ukraine / Ukrainians are → they are normal; they want peace, tranquillity, everyone at home & the same table → therefore, the most important thing is the place of the state

Zelenskyy says it's about diplomacy

he thinks that Ukraine's place is among equals → manifested in the European Union in various defence unions, alliances or among the guarantors of security → these will be the result of consistent policy

he's seeing these goals / this path beside the war

as a result of this policy, he gets titles like "Man Of The Year", streets/squares are named after him, and he gets medals / awards / ... → but: he doesn't think these things are about him; these things are about the Ukrainians / they are addresses to the Ukrainians / all the people who defend the state and protecting the country

he emphasizes the difference between "society" and "citizens": Ukrainians are a society; a citizen is someone who is changing their passport

he stops himself after that comment, realizing that this was not the question of the interviewer; he says "Sorry" for answering so long → admitting that this is probably also something that has changed: the length of his answers and answers, in general, have probably changed too (interviewer agrees on this)

Zelenskyy continues that many things have changed: he started to enjoy the moment - like this moment: them sitting together, with his wife next to him, a de-occupied Kyiv region, Donbas not taken

he mentions the difference in enjoying things: ordinary things that are important to him as a person and things that are important to him as a president

he's trying to get the most (positivity) out of everything - like satisfaction with the positive result of the state → he explains that he focuses on the good things because he has too → because he can't get pleasure from a blocked region/city or that people died or have to suffer,... → hence why he decided to live today (in the moment) and trying to have a positive look on things → it's something he started over the past three years after beginning to see the small things a little worse; he also began to really see the big things for the first time

Olena about not being happy that her husband would run for president and three years of the presidency for her.

she was against it because she knew that the family and both of them would face enormous challenges; they would have to fight to live (their lives)

she wanted peace for her family and both of them, hence why she didn't want these fights and challenges → but: Olena knew that he could stand his ground, and they would make it; it just would be tough → and it was indeed not easy

Olena mentioned that no one knew three years ago that the worst was yet to come

Olena about the war and her family / Zelenskyy, what has changed and their communication while she and the kids were hiding.

she says that (for her) nothing has changed, especially when it comes to her husband: he was always a reliable man, and he stayed like this; his character traits haven't changed, also not his general opinions/point of views

the family is, like all Ukrainian families, separated/divided

the interviewer mentions that "your husband was taken away by the war", to which Olena responds with a smile that "Nobody will take my husband away, not even war."

she says that he still "lives at work" (Bankova); the family hardly sees him right now

before her return, they haven't seen each other for 2 1/2 months

they were able to talk on the phone while they had to hide

after her return, she and Zelenskyy had several opportunities to meet, but not that many / they are rare → hence why Olena is grateful for his interview because to her, it means they're able to spend time together (Zelenskyy jokingly adds, "Dating on air.", Olena laughs about the joke and agrees)

she doesn't think that the family has changed a lot but thinks that maybe she has changed (she looks at Zelenskyy after that, and he replies, "You look beautiful.")

Olena says that they are holding on, everything is fine (as fine as it can be right now), and the family is still the same → kind of; because they don't have a normal family life yet, like sitting down, having dinner together or talking about all kind of things

Olena (and Zelenskyy) says that they would call each other in the evening and talk about what they would have for dinner, talk about that (Olena calls it "Dinner by the phone"), they would make jokes about the dinner situation or them eating / the food,... 

Olena says that right now, they, like every Ukrainian family, are waiting to be reunited

About what Zelenskyy is most proud of after three years of presidency.

Zelenskyy says that he's most proud of the fact that Ukrainians are always respected (not only during wartime)

he always believed in the Ukrainian people

the war and the strength and union of the people are not just proof of his words or his confidence in the people, but also proof to the whole world that Ukraine has such (amazing) people → he's proud of that

the interviewer continues and wants to know what Zelenskyy considers his greatest achievement (what he has managed to achieve in the three years)

Zelenskyy struggles to answer this question, admitting that it's difficult for him to talk about himself or his steps (actions) or the steps (actions) of the people around him (his team)

he thinks that every result should be evaluated when it has reached the end (of the process) and the result is clear → that's why Zelenskyy can't say anything about the war so far because they haven't reached an end (result)

he also mentions the different perceptions within the country: for some people, it's summer / a very warm spring when they look out of the window; for some is war; the de-occupied regions say that life has returned entirely again, but there is still war in other parts of the country → so the result and assessment of what they do now, how it all started and how it will end, can only be said when it ends 

the interviewer agrees with him on that (calling it "reasonable") and continues that it probably doesn't make sense to ask Zelenskyy about his biggest mistakes because no one knows yet if something Zelenskyy does will be a mistake or not (Zelenskyy answers, that the interviewer can ask about that, but the interviewer drops the topic)

About the people in Zelenskyy's life the past three years and how politics changes people.

the interviewer says again that Zelenskyy mentioned in the interview three years ago that back then, three months in politics have taught him that people may not be what he expects them to be → he continues that now his people are the most important thing to Zelenskyy, but that Zelenskyy finds himself in a situation where very few people are left with him who started his political path with him → Why did this happen?

Zelenskyy says that he thinks that this is a good thing → he explains that it means he stuck to his priorities, and in order to achieve the results he wanted to achieve, only people stayed who wanted to accomplish the same things (adding that other values do not measure their lives, but the ones that work with the desired results)

he also says that politics changes people

he doesn't like the word "nepotism", saying that just not many are like him (same values / want to achieve the same things / ...), so only the ones who would work with him stay in the end (sometimes people he knows, sometimes strangers)

he also says that war changed everything too → some people left his side and "run away": he explains that some people ran in a different direction, some distanced themself from him, some "ran abroad", and some "maybe even flee now" → he adds that these people are mainly fleeing from themselves and not Ukraine

but he also adds that some people surprised him by staying reliable or at his side (even though these people knew he would expect them to leave)

Zelenskyy says that he thinks that it is not a bad thing to show weakness 

he then stops, saying that he can't talk about it in a final way because no one knows how all of this will end; adding that he thinks it will be with a victory (he thinks Ukraine will win since Day 1)

right now, everyone is following the same path, with no alternatives, and he has a clear course → when it comes to the war and Russia; there is only one course/way/understanding → but: when it comes to other topics, like the European Union, they use different paths and approaches to reach that goal, because there are many different people involved 

Zelenskyy adds that it's obvious that with politics, war, values and time, people change and leave (after that, he and Olena joke with the interviewer if he expected a different answer, like Zelenskyy saying names, but the interviewer says no)

the interviewer says that on the one side, Zelenskyy says that politics changes people; on the other side, Olena said that her husband hadn't changed at all; he's wondering if Zelenskyy hasn't changed for her → Zelenskyy says that maybe not, because he's not just a politician in the end (Olena agreeing) → the interviewer asks if Zelenskyy doesn't feel like one; Zelenskyy replies that he feels like a president; the interviewer responds that this is probably an advantage right now

About the war and how it will end.

the interviewer remembers Zeleskyy's words during his inauguration speech about wanting to end the war, adding that Zelenskyy said in the past that he believed it could end in a diplomatic way → the interviewer continues that now, with a war happening right now, it's clear that it did not end and Ukraine will not diplomatically win this war, only on the battlefield → the interviewer wants to know when Zelenskyy realized this / felt this and why the war will not end diplomatically

Zelenskyy isn't sure if he can say when he felt this and is not going to answer that question right now; but he understood it exactly when he had that understanding of what choice he made, what he was dealing with and what he was preparing for → he thinks that this isn't the answer so far; but he realizes that the meaning of his words have changed

Zelenskyy repeats that while they haven't started that war, they have to end it

he remembers that he honestly thought they could stop it with pure dialogue → that they could find answers and solutions and make decisions with Russia → now he understands that the graduations will also be diplomatic, but not wholly (he compares this to a hybrid car - there are two sides/parts and war is difficult and so will be victory) → it will be bloody, there will be battles, but the ending will definitely be in diplomacy, because there are some things that, apart from the negotiating table, they will not be able to finish → Ukraine wants everything back, but Russia doesn't want to give anything → therefore, Ukraine doesn't want to give them anything → so this will be the end of the war, and they need to find a diplomatic solution

About the days leading to the invasion.

the interviewer recalls that in the days before the war, Zelenskyy seemed a bit nervous when Western intelligence strongly recommended preparing for the invasion and said it would be difficult, and Zelenskyy "down-playing" it and advised to "not panic" and "we have everything under control" → the interviewer wants to know if Zelenskyy really believed that Russia would not start a war

Zelenskyy said that everyone was used to living in a constant war, and it was always a hybrid (war and diplomacy)

Zelenskyy says that they understood where the attacks would come from, already experienced some, like cyberattacks → but he doesn't want to talk endlessly about it because everyone knows what happened and what the pressure was because things happened long before the invasion

he says that they understood that one way or another, they needed to be prepared → but: no one really understood fully the extent or impudence of what would come (he gives examples like it's one thing if tanks leave Belarus but another if Russia will attack Ukraine through Belarus and rockets flying specifically from Belarus - it's a small difference, but it's a difference) → he empathizes that it's a big difference if you're at war with two countries or with a country that uses another country to attack you → therefore no one knew until the end what was happening and it could all be untrue, no matter what intelligence says, because no one knew the details

Zelenskyy says that despite all this that everyone was preparing for various events and training for them → different intelligence agencies of partner countries had their training and their warnings → but: no one had/possessed more details than Ukraine → and they didn't expect anything bigger than what they were told

Zelenskyy mentions that this is a topic you could talk about for hours and finish his thoughts by saying that he thinks everything started back in September / October → back then they saw what was happening, they prepared, and they saw the messages and steps (like the first shortages),... → he also adds that of course, you could also start in 2014, but when talking about the full-scale invasion, he would start talking about it in September / October 2021

About February 24.

Zelenskyy said when the invasion happened, they were at home; it was 4 am

Olena says she remembers waking up to strange sounds outside the window (like most Ukrainians), and it was still dark; she saw that Zelenskyy wasn't lying next to her, and she found him fully dressed in the next room; she asked him what was going and he only said "it has begun"; she says it's hard to describe the emotions in this situation, it's horror and numbness; after that Zelenskyy left and she understood that this situation was like a tightrope for him and they immediately realized that life had changed forever

Olena says she lives for the moment (will start to live again) when he says to her, "It's over! Victory!" → she adds that she will probably not be the first one he talks to because he's always at work right now, but she wants to hear it with everyone else, at least on TV (Olena asks if he can / wants to add anything)

Zelenskyy says he was ready and leaving when Olena woke up and got calls / a signal a little earlier when the shots started → everyone was prepared and ready, so the moment they realized it started, he got a signal, a call and went to work

Zelenskyy mentions he doesn't remember much, only one thing clearly (adding that Olena already said everything): that he told his wife that the kids need to be explained everything, they need to be told that war has started (like it's something normal) and there is no need to come up with anything else, and everyone should understand how to behave

Zelenskyy says he also remembers coming home very late the night before because he had a meeting with the National Security and Defense Council (they discussed the issues and all the paperwork and structures that they needed to prepare) → he says that they understood that if it starts the state has to work like one organism and they have to ensure several things (like the National Bank still working, state reserve,...) → they prepared things in advance, so everything would be "safe" because they understood the risks (he then adds that he thinks the meeting was the day before, but can't remember/isn't sure about it)

the interviewer asks about the children and if Olena was able to explain everything to the children

Olena says that she needed an explanation when she woke them up that early and told them to pack a case → she says the children surprised her → Olena says she tried to be energetic and cheerful and pretended as if nothing was really happening, and the children somehow disciplined followed all her instructions and gathered quickly

after a while, the children realized that they didn't know when they would see their father again, and they cried several times

she adds that they're still doing well - like her father: they know that he will endure, and so they will endure

About how prepared the Ukrainian military was.

the interviewer wants to know how ready the military was since it was quite a surprise how fast Russia occupied regions / moved toward Kyiv

Zelenskyy says that Russia used all amount of forces / absolutely everything, even reserves (Zelenskyy's team calls it "the silent mobilization" since you can only do mobilization when you're at war and Russia did a "military operation")

Russia transferred a lot of troops with a concentration in Crimea and Belarus → the focus was on different areas, and so nothing happened along the borders... (he explains the Russian movements)

Zelenskyy says that he thinks that Russia really had a big volume and that no European country would be able to cope with such a volume today

he says that they're small in comparison to Russia, and when a huge army attacks, you can't concentrate all your forces in one area (like Kyiv, for example) → they need to provide air defence, tanks, equipment, infantry fighting vehicles,... everywhere

(Zelenskyy gives a lengthy explanation about the troops' strengths and how they evolved and were assembled)

Zelenskyy says that right now, 700,000 people are fighting for Ukraine

he mentioned NATO briefly and that they would have important weapons that could help / could have helped Ukraine (for example, with air defence)

Zelensky says that the chaos caused by the many people fleeing also helped the enemy in the first few days

nevertheless, he thinks, in retrospect, that they prepared well

he finishes by saying that despite everything, all the analysts thought Russia would capture them in two or three days → this was based on what the analysts knew, but they did not know everything / all the details (the interviewer adds that now the military analysts will have to revise their methodology)

Zelenskyy says again that everything was prepared, and they understood everything very well, but there were problems → they sent out requests for money because they knew they had to change from Soviet weapons to NATO models, but you can't do this if you're not a member of NATO because you're not given licenses and are not sold anything

Ukraine was told to "dig trenches", but Zelenskyy says that it's not possible to win such a war with the shovel, so he told them to give Ukraine weapons

About Mariupol / Azovstal.

all of them are heroic people

it's not only National Guard but also Border Guards, paratroopers, police officers, SBU representatives, medics, military medics and local people

they all defended Mariupol

a lot of pilots died → they tried to fly into Azovstal to bring them medicine, food, water and pick up bodies and wounded people

a lot of things were happening, and no one was talking about it because there were no official air corridors to Azovstal because Russia had air superiority 

Zelenskyy says they were doing far more than just saying, "Help us and close the sky." / having conversations

the Russians were also afraid because they saw the losses

it was not only a question about planes but also about air defence and Russian missiles → that's why it was not possible to approach Mariupol

90% of (helicopter) pilots died → they knew it would most likely be a suicide mission, but they wanted to help the people in Azovstal

Zelenskyy hopes that when people talk about Azovstal, they will talk about all the people involved

all civilians who were blocked at the plant have been taken out so far → evacuation of other civilians, those who were near the plant or in Mariupol, were taken out long ago

civilian medics were evacuated 

the (seriously) wounded were evacuated

Zelenskyy thinks that in the near future, maybe in the coming days, everyone will be evacuated

Ukraine agreed that the unblocking would be done by Western mediators and partners → he negotiated with Turkey, Switzerland, and Israel → first with France because of the leaders' relations with Russia when they saw that it was impossible to unblock by military means

he talked dozens and hundreds of times with leaders of other countries to get weapons so they could reach Mariupol by military means to unblock the city → he says that many people wanted to go, knowing it might be a suicide mission, but a lot of heroic people wanted to help

Zelenskyy says that the people in Azovstal have every right to go out (surrender) and save their lives → the military command has informed them that they can do this

the mediators, along with the countries he talked about, were UN representatives (something he organized with Guterres)

the Red Cross is also involved in the evacuations 

Zelenskyy says that after everyone was evacuated to Russian territory, now the diplomacy has to work → he wants to bring all the people from Azovstal home 

About meeting with Putin and talking with Russia.

the interviewer asks what's the purpose of such a meeting and if Zelenskyy thinks such a meeting can end the war

Zelenskyy says it depends on when they would meet because the goal is changing since it's a constantly changing (hybrid) war → he says if they met today, he would want to talk about Mariupol too, but in some months, this may no longer be an issue (he gives other examples too) → the situation can be a completely different in some months hence why he can't say precisely what they would talk about → he could predict what they might do and what the outcome will be, but it's just looking into the future and has nothing to do with reality → today they would talk about the exchange, de-occupation and peace, stopping the war

Zelenskyy says that some points may change, but some things were also topics from the start → they know that many things depend on them, but also on Russia / what Russia does → without talking to them, they can just look at the current status (he elaborates on this further)

they want the territories back, and they want to end this war; they have desires and goals → but: how it will be and when it will be, depends on the time of the conversation with Putin

Zelenskyy strongly believes that a conversation between Ukraine and Russia will take place, but they do not know in what format (with or without intermediaries, in a broad circle, at the level of the president or a two-way conversation,...)

he adds that the security guarantees are a very important subject to them, not only a paper this time, but something that exists in reality → they are the basis of security of the state and society of Ukraine

they are considering a range of security guarantees with trusted partner countries, and they are currently developing a project with them → the main problem is that right now, they like some things Ukraine doesn't like and the other way around → basically: Ukrainians want too much and Europeans being too sceptical → Zeleskyy is sure that somewhere in the middle they will find an answer → emphasizing that this answer is essential because Ukraine needs the parliaments of the guarantor countries to vote for this document and give it ratification

its an international agreement Ukraine needs / they want a separate agreement → this agreement provides for a circle of partner states around Ukraine without Russia; security guarantors without Russia

Zelenskyy said that Bucha changed some things as well as time (not only how Ukraine wins but also how Russia behaves)

Zelenskyy says it's important who is ready to sit at the negotiating table and who isn't / who wants to sit down and who will never sit down

they have to adapt to changing situations and times when they talk about agreements

Zelenskyy thinks it's also important to have separate bilateral conversations with Russia / Putin

he doesn't know what will happen after signing the agreement; they have to see → what happens afterwards also depends on what they will discover/see/how Russia behaves

Zelenskyy says again that there will be exchange to get the captured people from Azovstal back

he says again that a lot depends on how Russia will act in the future, for example, what happens with the planned exchange

in the end, he says this also applies to the situation in Donbass

About if Olena writes/edits her husband's speeches and the video addresses in general.

no, Olena is not editing them → she thinks she also wouldn't be able to do it any longer because there are so many (big) topics that she wouldn't physically have time to edit everything → she also doesn't want to do it

they still talk/argue about literary things, but she admits that sometimes she doesn't have/know enough "tricks"

they talk about the speeches afterwards, but she doesn't see them in advance

Olena thinks that she has other "missions" (projects/things to do)

she admits that his team is doing it really well 

she is not sure if Zelenskyy sees the finished speeches very early, but he tells the speechwriters what he wants (to talk about) in his addresses → but: no one writes him the complete speeches → Olena mentions again that this is the reason she can't help much, because it's his opinions and not hers → she might be able to help with arranging them somehow, but it would take her much longer than his assistants

the interviewer asks Zelenskyy if it is difficult to give them every night

it's important to him to not just speak to others and to understand what he's doing → but he's not a robot and doesn't have time to write the whole text → it's important for him that all his thoughts are conveyed and what the idea of the speech was 

his team is small, and it's usually just him and maybe one, maximum two more people → he says more is not needed because also many people have many different opinions (which would not be helpful in this case)

the interviewer acknowledges that everyone on the table agrees that the speeches are work but wonders how Zelenskyy copes with the fact that sometimes there is nothing special to say because he still needs to say something in the evening

Zelenskyy says that he works every day and doesn't rest, hence why he always has something to say, but sometimes there really is nothing to say when nothing happens → for him this means happiness because no news is good news

he also says that at the same time, other things are coming up he needs to talk about

Zelenskyy explains that another thing is the psychological effect of his speeches: it is important to show that he's still there, like everyone else

he thinks that people would absolutely be able to live without his speeches for some days, but it would raise questions (Where did the president go? What is happening in the country? Is something wrong?...) → this would destabilize the situation, hence why he sometimes needs to talk to the people even if there is nothing to talk about, but it's still essential to reach out to the people (at least until victory)

About the psychological side of war, Olena's work and Ukrainian women.

Olena says that she always highly valued the Ukrainian women and thinks they are the best

women are everywhere: in the armed forces, as volunteers, in medicine, as teachers,...

 in addition, women are entrusted with many other things that they have to do outside of their professional activities → taking care of children → this system is now broken: everyone needs to be fed, everyone needs to be taught lessons,...

Olena believes that after a victory, everyone will also remember the heroism of the Ukrainian women

she thinks as a result of the war, people will not allow not to change the standards for the difference in wages →they dealt with these issues before the war, and Olena thinks that after the war, they will return to it and then it will no longer be just a topic for discussion, but a necessity, to show that everyone won together

another important topic is health

Olena is currently starting a big project: a national program for psychological health for Ukrainians → almost everyone gets psychological pressure, and almost everyone can have psychological problems during the war and after it

some parts of the population are most affected by the war: children, the elderly, people who have lost their homes / loved ones, military returning from war → Olena mentions that the post-traumatic disorder (PTSD) probably awaits a larger number of people

she recognizes that if they do not do something for everyone, this could lead to big bad consequences, not necessarily after the war but perhaps in 10 years or beyond

the WHO supports the project, and they receive help from different countries like USA or Israel since they have certain knowledge and experience

the first part of the project is to find ways how the already existing programs can / would work in Ukraine → they need to understand the critical points on which they have to focus first

she mentions that mental health is a big topic in the world right now, which helps → Ukraine has to face a double struggle: after Corona, people now have to deal with a war → therefore, Ukraine needs as much of the world's assistance and work in this direction as possible

the project includes all women since, in most cases, they suffer the most - even if they do not suffer physically, many people suffer psychologically → therefore, they want to take care of each other and women first

About victory.

the interviewer said that in his last interview with Zelenskyy in April, he mentioned that the demarcation line, as of February 23, before the full-scale invasion, could be considered a victory → What's now a victory for Zelenskyy?

Zelenskyy says that different parts of the population have different ideas about this → he thinks that the most valuable thing is to save as many people as possible (acknowledging that he knows that the military people are very brave and ready to give their lives and he knows that this is Ukraine's great value and treasure)

he thinks that people shouldn't be too greedy right now → but: he knows that justice is when everything is taken back, and he strongly believes that Ukraine will definitely turn the situation around, but he thinks today's issue is to save people

Zelenskyy knows that Russia is not ready to just give something away since there is land they have occupied, and there is land where Russia has already been for a long time → hence why Zelenskyy thinks that reaching the line that was before February 24 without unnecessary losses is a victory for Ukraine right now → he knows that would mean not all territories would be returned to Ukraine, but the situation is not easy, and they have to look at the price they have to pay for war and de-occupation → but in the end, everything will turn around for Ukraine

Zelenskyy says that they have already broken one of the largest / strongest armies in the world - physical as well as psychological → he mentioned that Russia would not recover for many years → but: Zelenskyy says that people shouldn't forget that the (Ukrainian) military wants to live → that's why it's important to him that everyone understands the value of each of these difficult steps and the price of each step both forward and backward, because stepping back is not easy, because it's expensive (costs a lot of lives)

he mentioned again that demarcation would be a victory → it would indicate that Russia did not capture them and that Ukraine was able to defend their land → after that, they could move to the second part: talking at the negotiating table → that's what he hopes for and that the result of this conversation will be final justice

 the interviewer wonders how Ukraine can win but not lose → Zelenskyy says that if you win, you do not lose

About Ukraine being the centre of the world right now and why the victory is important for Ukraine's future.

Zelenskyy knows that Ukraine is in the centre of the world's attention right now and doesn't want to lose this status because they "paid" a lot for it

he says again that this is why people should never forget the values of these losses

he explains that Russia didn't realize that in reaction to Nazism, the whole world would be united to achieve victory

he recaps that humans have no value in Russia, talking about how Russia pretended no corpses existed at the beginning of the war, only admitting it slowly and taking the bodies back very slow and not that many

he says again that people shouldn't get "dizzy" about victories or Ukraine right now → people should never forget the human value; victories can only be temporary (for Russia)

he says again that they will get back all the territories because it's their land

but the most important thing is the truth

he says that right now, it's "fashionable" to be Ukraine, and there is a lot of respect for Ukrainians, no matter if they fight or are somewhere abroad - all Ukrainians are heroes to people from the outside → he says it's nice that they are greeted with respect, and so many people ask if they can help and it's essential not to lose this modernity because it's a manifestation of Ukraine as a nation

Zelenskyy says that this war is a war they can not lose because it's not a war against Russia, but a war with Russia for Ukraine

Ukraine is fighting for their own, and this is a very strong position → this is a war for Ukraine's independence, which cannot be lost, because of Ukraine's freedom and sovereignty

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

i didn't know you wanted to leave your home country. Where you are from, if you don't mind me asking? Is there a reason you didn't have a passport before? Sorry if that questio is too personal, its just that where i'm from everyone has their own passports since they are little kids. Hope you have a lovley afternoon :)

Hello! I’m from down under and I’ve had a passport my whole life but from the great Chaos of My Journey last year which most of my followers and mutuals will recall I left my passport behind in a place I absolutely cannot return to, therefore I’ve had to apply all over again with basically no accredited paperwork or contacts to assist me and I had to wait months as I accidentally got stranded in a little mountain town and needed to know people for at least a year for them to be guarantors for paperwork I needed to get said new passport

[talesfromtheenchantedforest]

yeah it took me approximately four pages to become completely obsessed with Lancelot and Galehaut

So you’re prosecuting a war of conquest in the British Isles. Not for nothing but it’s going extremely well, everyone else is very outnumbered and you are hot and charismatic and honestly just a winner. But TWIST there’s one knight (the black knight) (well he was the red knight in the last battle but who doesn’t love a costume change) who is singlehandedly holding off your army. Fellas is it gay to 1) note that he is running through horses like they’re breath mints and offer to give him yours and also squire for him:

“Do you know,” said Galehaut, “what I’m going to tell you? I wish to teach you something of my customs, and be assured that I forbid all my men to lay a hand on you, as long as you are on foot, nor should anyone pursue you. But if out of cowardice you were to hide and cease fighting, I would in no way prevent your being taken prisoner. But as long as you continue to bear arms, no one will attack you. And don’t be dismayed if your horse has died, for I will give you all the horses you can use, and I’ll be your squire all this day. And if I can’t tire you, then no man alive will ever do so.”

2) Ask him to spend the night with you:

When night fell, they began to disperse on each side, and [Lancelot] went off as serenely as he could and went up the fields between the hill and the river. And Galehaut, who was paying close attention to him, saw him go, spurred his horse in pursuit and followed him at a distance along the path of the hill, until he caught up with him at the bottom. He drew alongside him as courteously as he could and said, “God bless you, my lord!”

The other looked at him askance and reluctantly returned his greeting.

“My lord,” said Galehaut. “Who are you?”

“Good sir, I am a knight, as you can see.”

“Indeed,” said Galehaut, “a knight you are, the best there is, and the man I would most wish to honor in al the world: I’ve come to ask you, as a favor, to come stay with me tonight.”

3) Spoon him gently all night long and then confess your love to him:

Then Galehaut departed. [Lancelot] began to think about the great honor shown him by Galehaut, and in his heart he esteemed him most highly. Once he was in bed, he very quickly fell asleep, for he was exceedingly tired. When Galehaut was sure the knight was asleep, he lay down beside him as quietly as he could, and two of his knights joined him; there were no others in the room. The knight slept very soundly, but all night long he moaned in his sleep. Galehaut heard him clearly, for he scarcely slept at all, but sent the time thinking of a way to retain the knight.

In the morning the knight rose and heard Mass. Galehaut had already risen quietly, for he did not wish the knight to notice. When they had heard Mass, the knight asked for his armor; Galehaut asked him why, and he replied that he wished to leave. Then Galehaut said to him, “My dear friend, stay yet a while, and do not think I wish to deceive you, for there’s nothing you could request that you would not have, if you will stay. I assure you, you can have the company of a more powerful man than I, but you’ll never have that of a man who loves you as much. And since I would do more than anyone else to have your company, then I deserve it more than anyone else.”

4) Agree to surrender to the army you are about to defeat because he asks you to, and then go out to battle wearing each others’ armor:

Then [Lancelot] called for two guarantors, and in their presence said, “My lord, I ask you that as soon as you overcome King Arthur, and his forces are totally unable to recover, as soon as I summon you, you are to ask him for mercy and put yourself entirely in his power.”

When Galehaut heard this, he was aghast and became very pensive. And the two kings said to him, “My lord, what are you thinking about? There is nothing to be gained from reflection now; you have gone so far that there is no turning back.”

“What?” he exclaimed. “Do you suppose I have any regrets? If all the world were mine, I wouldn’t hesitate to give it to him. I was thinking of the splendid thing he said, for never did any man say anything finer. My lord,” he said, “may God never help me if you don’t receive this gift, for I could do nothing for you that would bring me shame, but I beg you not to deprive me of your company, since I would do more to have you with me than any other.”

5) End the war, as promised, and then hide your new secret boyfriend in your camp and make out and kiss away his tears etc etc etc

Then Galehaut went to his troops and had them withdraw. And King Arthur immediately sent for the queen, who was bitterly grieving as she went away; the messengers pursued her and caught up with her, and told her of the great joy that had befallen her. She could not believe it until she had the genuine proof sent to her by the king. Then she returned, full of great joy.

The news of the peace spread quickly; Sir Gawain heard it from the king himself. He was more joyful at this than anyone else, and asked, “My lord, how did this come to be?”

“Truly,” said the king, “I don’t know. It is the will of Our Lord.”

Sure. Will of Our Lord. Sure.

[khizumet-e]

.

You want to hear, sera, of the greatest adventure of my life? Well, I must warn you, you will be quite disappointed by it. I would not have held it against you if you lost interest, or left. Everyone does. You will find it too, one day. But you wanted to hear of adventure. I suppose it wasn’t everyone who left, in this one, but me. Not that I made it far, trifling it must seem to you as it did to me those few times I have completed the journey since. But it was that first journey, my grand adventure, with that kindly friend of my brother’s. 

You must know him –my brother, I mean, his friend buried for too long to matter now– everyone knows my brother. Charming as he is, loyal, devoted. You must have heard it all. Not as much as I have, though, the shadows of my earliest memories, my father and brother fighting. Sometimes it was about me, more often than not as time went on. I learned early but only realised late, that there was love for me but no space. Ah but I should start at the beginning, for your sake.

I was never meant to be the heir, of course not, but nor was I meant to be the spare. I never heard it from my father’s lips, died before I learned my letters or charms, and you would think my brother too dashing to sink to telling me. But somewhere I heard, everyone knew, like little drones in a skyrender hill. Hah, aren’t we all quite that. 

You might have heard of my brother’s tastes. Silly now, I know, with that woman he wedded, but he must have sworn off marriage quite strongly in his youth. I would scarcely be sitting here otherwise. That was all I was ever meant to be, a begrudging afterthought, a concession made by our father to my brother, a guarantor it would be his blood that prevailed in the ruling line, not my uncle’s. Bitter mer, the both of them, but how nice it must be to be so loathed by someone they bend their lives to spite you. No, no, who would ever go to that effort for me. 

Now as I said, I was young when my father died, but beyond the childish tears it did not mean much to me yet, or much for what had been decided to be my fate. My brother had done half the raising of me before then anyways, the source of his spiting I’m sure, our father’s rather coarse schemes. Not much later than that it was, that I learned how eager people were to hand me off, somewhere out underfoot.

I might have been sheltered and barely smearing my letters onto paper, but even I heard about the calamity that took him north. He even had the good graces to tell me himself, to shush me, tell me why no one else would do. How fated he made it all sound. I was too young to understand the tang of desperation in his voice. Maybe he was desperate to be rid of me. 

My brother never told me why he stayed, you know. I was a child of six and my letters crooked and ungainly, and my cousin sometimes had me draw pictures to send my brother. He kept them. Just as he kept any nice words he might have sent to me, directly, not the spare morsels my cousin fed me. I think they were both content with that. 

It smarted more, that abandonment, than my father’s death had. Because this time it was a choice. I still do not know why he made that choice. It’s a curious thing to grow used to, to be kept in the dark. But the rumour mills flow slower in Thorn than the brackish waters in the cisterns, so I have contented myself with not knowing. How foolish the youth. If you made me guess, now, there was a half whispered apology by a half mad man I did not recognise. I asked him if she was our sister, you know. The only thing that made sense to a child. He told me she was his, and I never asked further. 

But I have strayed, haven’t I? Telling you of my lurking forgotten in the stands of others’ great adventures. I made quite the home in those wings, you see. I defied them, here and there, but what good is it to shake off complacency. As I said, I am used to being handed around. Even if one time the recipient was more fey than my kinsmen, and our acquaintance much shorter lived.

Oh yes, even my great adventure was not some dashing escape, I was only the package, in a ways. My brother had not even sent word, that he wanted me fetched, why would he, with the rumours of war starting up. But no one had much concerned themselves with me, so maybe he did write, somewhere in that stack of official correspondence. It could get lost so easily, as triflingly easy as losing your mind and heart in that paper labyrinth. 

There was this guard, who ushered me outside, satchel in hand and down the ramps. We were going slower than they would have liked, those retainers, unhappy and furtive in the dark, as if they weren’t carrying out their lord’s wishes. You must know I was never particularly hale, and though we only went down and down the ramps and stairs, I was exhausted. It was late, I had not had supper, nor would I get sleep for a long while. 

For the child of two soldiers my constitution was poor, my hands soft, unused to weapons. I had never been much beyond that lake outside Tear, born in the city and destined to die there, I thought. My grandfather, his life must have been quite similar, the worry and fretting, but of course I would never get to talk to him. Summoning the ghosts of the marsh, now that is the prerogative of– but I’m not here to spill secrets.

My family, you know, they were good to me. Like one might be to a prize guar, maybe, but they weren’t unkind. They just, forgot, sometimes. But they liked to blame my health, coddle me, wrap me in silks until I could no longer even see the bars of my gilded cage. And suddenly they opened the door. Put me out there, in front of that fey man on his giant wheezing mount, and left me without a word. 

He did not seem kind then, as I would find him later, only thoughtful. Maybe he questioned my cousin’s senses in not sending us an escort. Not that I ever felt afraid, with that man. A friend of my brother’s, he was, from far off Mournhold, there to deliver me safely to my brother. I’d never seen a Nord before, could count the number of Kothringi I’d talked to on one hand, but he was careful as he seemed lost. A strange man, with his ruddy hair and giant beast, his charming voice that struggled where he had received a recent wound to the throat. I had never seen war.

And I would not. We flew north, along those roads, and though I had studied maps all my life, knew the material of every road, the tolls, the numbers of troops to be moved, none of that made any sense to me when I saw it in life. But the man was kind, asking me all those things people would just take for granted, or shrug off. My home, my family. What I thought of Mournhold. He laughed, when I told him I thought it was a great adventure, and when I told him it sounded charming despite the pained rasp, he laughed even more and said my brother thought so too. 

I had a vague sense of distance, that travel took long, but all the maps I’d seen had covered the south, and I could not have told you if it would take a day to Mournhold, a week, or a decade. I almost wished it were the last, then, to excuse my brother not returning. Even more I wished it were the first, for the beast’s hair hurt my lungs and the thundering movements made me queasy. A horse, the man told me, going on full of love and passion for the beasts. Nord creatures. When I made to talk of skyrenders he said he heard it all. Of course he had, friend of my brother’s that he was. 

He would pet my hair, and forget that I’d never roughhoused. Tell me stories and sing strange songs, and call me cub. Talk about how very glad my brother would be to have me safely by his side. It was strange, of course, to think that I would be safer with this stranger on his beast than in the citadel of Tear, but the man reminded me of the dangers of war, that the Nords might be driven there. When I shivered, later, in the cool, he wrapped me in a brown pelt and held me closer still, and I realised how fortunateI was to have been taken so carefully to safety, not dragged screaming from my bed by murderous masses. 

Sometimes now, I wonder if my cousin had with a heavy heart hoped that some evil would befall us lone travelers on the journey. My brother must have been worried sick, for me and his friend. But we were alone, unbothered, making it to safety just before the jaws of war closed once more on Deshaan. A great adventure, indeed, to be handled like a package, if one held cautiously like the frailest glass. But we ate under the sky, and slept under the stars, and I wondered what sort of freedom I might gain, now that my brother had remembered my existence. 

Not that I would gain any, of course, in that dizzying game of chairs that followed, where my brother stepped aside for my cousin and my uncle stepped up to claim me. Thorn has its charms, of course. If you are a hunter, an adventurer. I grew to enjoy sitting on the high roots in the garden. 

Not that I should complain. My brother’s dear friend, who seemed so awestruck to me in the moonlight that night, gazing up at the citadel with something indescribable in those pale eyes, I’m sure he would have been happy to sit in just such a garden. The lush green, the life. See, it is hard to be a soldier, sera, a restless duty bound soul. I never saw him again, after our little adventure. He died no long after, I was told, but my brother was tight lipped. You might have never known he could be so sensitive. 

It was another battle for Mournhold that took him. Or something the likes, those northern places are all the same, are they not. How honourable, that even a Nord would die defending that city. How incomprehensible, that Nord would turn against Nord all for the sake of us mer. It might have been kindness, to retire the human soldiers, before the would be killed by the swords of their brethren. Like that kind soul who took me on that journey. But war swallows good men and mer all the time, does it not. Now that is an adventure I would rather avoid.

[adarlingwrites]

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

Author’s note: I kind of regret the song choice due to its association with a certain movie but... it fits the chapter's themes. -shrug-

Edit: Changed the song I associated with this chapter because I think it suits Aguni and Yamaneko's pseudo-paternal relationship, which was highlighted more than the murder mystery on the Beach

go ahead and cry, little boy | you know that your daddy did too, you know what your mama went through | you gotta let it out soon, just let it out

X

As if a spotlight had been shone on her, Yamaneko’s body tenses at everyone’s scrutiny.

“Why does this concern me?” she starts, looking at the faces around her, all of them with varying degrees of wariness, save for her fellow militants. Her eyes flick to her father’s, and resentment blooms in her chest, spreading through her veins like bitter poison.

“She’s your stepmother,” Ann responds, examining the victim’s corpse with the purpose of scrutinizing every detail. Then, her eyes flick to Mr. Yamane, looking at him with an unreadable expression. “Though, she looks more like an older sister.”

“We weren’t close. I haven’t spoken a word to her before we arrived on the Beach.”

Ann tilts the victim’s head with a gloved hand, exposing the wound to view. “I’ve yet to examine the wound, but it’s clear that whoever killed her used a sharp object. You’re one of the few militants who exclusively carry a bladed weapon, along with Last Boss.”

Folding her arms Yamaneko was about to go off on the taller woman, but she mentions something else. ”He’s under suspicion, too,” she mentions as she motioned to Mr. Yamane. “Her body was dumped from their shared room.”

“Me? That’s preposterous! Are you suggesting that I have something to do with my own wife’s death? I’m not even allowed to hold a weapon! It’s those militants you should be looking at.”

“You know what?” Yamaneko interrupts, bringing all the attention back to her when her head whips towards his direction, and her voice drips with venom at every syllable she utters. “If you can beat your first wife and your daughters for years, and lie through your teeth every time the authorities get involved, I believe you have the capacity to be violent with anyone and lie to our faces.”

“You dare accuse me when you’re the one who carries a weapon and holds a criminal record,” Mr. Yamane spits back, pointing at his estranged daughter with a wrinkled finger, spittle flying from his mouth. “I’ve raised you myself. You’re an uncontrollable child. Disobedient. Delinquent! You dirtied the family’s name when your name showed up on the tabloids twice. It’s no wonder even your sister gave up on you.”

It took every fiber of Yamaneko’s self control to stop her from lunging at her father’s provocation. Instead, she hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t bring Mai into this. You are the reason why I had to resort to stealing! You kicked me out. I couldn’t even find an apartment without a guarantor because I was a minor. Do you think I would resort to that if I wasn’t so desperate without a family’s support? That criminal record means nothing here anyway!”

“My, my, this is a conversation you shouldn’t be having in front of strangers. Are scandals really commonplace in your family?” Niragi interrupts, and aims his rifle at Mr. Yamane’s chest. “Why don’t we just kill the old man?”

“See?! Even the company you keep reflects who you really are,” Mr. Yamane blurts, face red from rage. “No amount of discipline I tried to instill in Minami worked to keep her in check. She's a criminal. It’s why I disowned her.”

Aguni remains stoic throughout the entire ordeal, but the last thing the Yamacorp CEO said stirred something hateful inside him. He towered over Mr. Yamane in a show of intimidation. “I thought I heard you call my underling ‘daughter’ in that confrontation I broke up. So which is it?”

And just like that, Mr. Yamane’s domineering facade crumbles, stammering to answer the militants’ chief.

Hatter holds out an open palm, motioning everyone to quiet down. “These accusations won’t get us anywhere. Regardless of who killed Mrs. Yamane, peace on the Beach has been disturbed,” he mutters, expression grim, and jovial demeanor absent.

“The number of violent cases has been rising, but we have handled them quietly. This one is a public spectacle that might send ripples of fear through the entire Beach. Aguni, tell your men to go harder on their patrols and to keep themselves restrained.”

“You’re not even going to interrogate her?” Mr. Yamane exclaims, pointing at his daughter.

This time, Aguni is openly sneering at him. “Why are you so eager to accuse my underling of a murder, old man?”

The former CEO shrinks before Aguni, and any bravado he had dissipated. Yamaneko couldn’t suppress a satisfied smirk.

“Ah, Mr. Yamane, you were some corporate bigwig before coming to this country, am I right?” Hatter asks him. “As number one,” he nearly growls, voice dropping an octave. “I call the shots here. Your daughter brought back high-value cards from the games. Any member of the Beach like that is a fine asset. Unless she’s proven to be a traitor, murderer or not, no action will be taken against her without the executive board’s say.”

“Then you’re complicit in my wife’s murder. I won’t forget this,” Mr. Yamane spits, turning around to barge out the door.

Niragi scoffs at his dramatic exit. “I really want to put a bullet between his eyes. What a bastard, shitting on the military sect like that.”

“As much as I hate that asshole’s guts, you killing him right after his wife just died would just draw more suspicion to me, and the other militants,” Yamaneko replies, folding her arms and eyebrows creased.

From the corner of her eyes, Mira glances at her with a newfound curiosity.

“I think I should also mention that he begged me for help to get out of this place. The executive board should watch out. He’s known for stabbing business associates in the back to climb the ranks. My father is highly manipulative, and doesn’t stop until he gets the result that he wants,” Yamaneko adds.

“Hmm. He sounds like a potential Heart specialist too. Perhaps it runs in the family?” Mira croons thoughtfully, looking at her with the eyes of a child examining a shiny new bug she had found in the garden. “Ah, but you’re willing to impart information about your own father for the sake of the Beach and the executive board?” she asks.

Yamaneko cringes at the comparison between her and her father. “My loyalty is to the Beach, and to my chief. My chief is part of the executive board, isn’t he?”

Mira regards the CEO’s estranged daughter for a moment, and grins.

“That’s enough. Hopefully this incident is just an isolated case. Ann, if any similar cases show up, you know what to do,” Hatter said, almost with an air of boredom. And with that, Hatter leaves, adjourning the meeting.

“I do think an interrogation is in order, though. If you would allow me to borrow her for a moment, Aguni?” Ann asks, tilting her head towards Yamaneko.

Aguni’s stony expression turns sour, but he nods. The younger militant steps right ahead. “If it helps me prove that I have nothing to do with this, sure.”

The chief backs off, and he turns to the rest of the militants present. “I want to have a word with the two of you. Now.”

As the chief goes off on Niragi and Last Boss, Yamaneko follows Ann to a storage closet for cleaning supplies, and clears her throat.

“Well? We’re clearly not here to play seven minutes in heaven, so if you have a question, shoot.”

Ann rolls her eyes, expression otherwise stoic. “Right. How do you usually execute traitors?”

Yamaneko gulps, looking at her hands. “I usually aim for the carotid, or any other large artery I can target.”

“And why do you choose that method? Are there any advantages to it?” Ann asks, taking out a notepad and starting to jot down on it.

“It puts them out of their misery fast. Plus, the blood spurts in one steady stream without much spraying. It makes cleanup easier.”

Ann nods, and flips a page on the notepad. “What were you doing at around ten thirty in the morning?”

“Grabbing lunch at the lobby,” Yamaneko responds, folding her arms.

“Who were you with? Who did you speak to?”

“Last Boss. Though, I saw my father in the lobby too.”

Nodding and writing, Ann continues. “And what were you doing around two hours before the incident?”

Yamaneko hesitated for a moment, and Ann watched her like a hawk, noting the shift in her body language. Clearing her throat, the militant stammers. “I… I was having sex.”

“With whom?” Ann asks with a completely straight face, pausing from writing on the notepad.

“Is this even necessary to ask? God… I was doing it with Last Boss, obviously. I’m pretty sure some of the people in the rooms nearby heard us too,” Yamaneko says through her teeth, shifting her weight on one foot. “Can I go now?” she asks, face red.

Ann nods, and tucks away her notepad and pen. “You’re free to go.”

The militant leaves. She meets up with the others, who were receiving a tongue-lashing from the chief, and she joins their misery. Afterwards, Aguni motions at his underlings, and they follow. As they walked through the halls of the hotel, Yamaneko felt strength in their numbers.

Then, Aguni halts. “Yamane.” Her head perks up. “How many visa days do you have left?”

She pauses for a moment to think. “More than a week.”

“You’re on patrol duty with me for a few nights.”

“Right. Understood, chief.”

“Meet me tonight at the gate. You’re all free to leave.”

Niragi went ahead and trudged off, mood sour from Aguni’s reminders on the use of violence on the Beach. After checking if no one else is around, Last Boss puts an arm around Yamaneko’s waist, eyes searching hers.

“I’m okay,” she reassures him, before pressing a quick peck on his lips.

“You haven’t been on a patrol yet, haven’t you?” Takatora asked her.

“Mhmm.”

“Stay alert,” he says, voice hinting at some softness.

“Of course.”

Takatora would be lying if he said that he’s nervous about his lover’s first patrol, but as he watches Yamaneko meet up with their leader from a window, he felt some relief knowing that she’s made it far enough to rise to number sixteen and gain some semblance of trust from their chief.

Feeling a little cold from the absence of her jacket, Yamaneko walks towards Aguni, doing the best she can to look focused. She wouldn’t want to disappoint him on her first patrol.

“Yamane, eyes peeled,” Aguni said as he drew his pistol and motioned the younger militant to follow.

“Yes, chief.”

Halfway through their patrol, Yamaneko speaks up. “By the way chief, could you refer to me with my nickname instead?”

This gains her a stern, questioning look. “I don’t want to be associated with my father’s family name anymore.”

The look on Aguni’s face softens ever so slightly, and he grunts in acknowledgment.

“You don’t have to call me chief all the time,” Aguni says to her after some time as he scanned the perimeter for any suspicious activity. His underling looks up to him, a curious look on her face. She hasn’t heard the chief say much outside of games.

“But I find it respectful,” Yamaneko replies, hands hovering near her thighs, where her knives are holstered. Aguni blinks a few times before moving again.

“With proper training, you’d fit in with the SDF. There are more female recruits now, I heard.”

“Nah. I’m too much of a non-conformist for that.”

“And what makes you say that?”

Yamaneko motions to her face with one hand. “Good luck trying to scrub all this makeup off my face, chief.”

The snort he gives her sounds almost amused, but Aguni’s expression remains stern. “That attitude of yours, did it get you in trouble with your father?”

Yamaneko is taken aback from the personal question, but nonetheless, she responds to her leader. “Well, yes. I tried to suppress it and be a good daughter, I promise. Regardless, it’s just an excuse to beat me. Everything I did got me in trouble with him,” Yamaneko says almost too casually, as if her experiences weren’t the damaging, traumatic ones that lingered for years.

Old, painful memories started to stir within Aguni’s psyche upon hearing Yamaneko open up about her own upbringing. In the young woman before him, he saw shards of his past self, the angry young man who wanted to get back at his own father, but was robbed of the opportunity due to his death. His knuckles turn white from the rage simmering in his heart.

They continued walking, looking over the fences for any possible intruders. Every now and then, Aguni would tell the young militant what to watch out for, and what to do in certain scenarios. The patrol ended peacefully, much to Yamaneko’s relief. She leaned against a fence when they got back to the gate. Aguni folds his arms and observes her.

“Is there anything else you need, chief?” Yamaneko asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Yamaneko, day or night?”

“Uh, night.”

“From now on, you’re training with me every five in the afternoon, sharp.”

Eyebrows rising up her forehead, Yamaneko has a dumbfounded look on her face. “Training? For what?”

“Do you want to gain an edge over your bastard father, or not?”

One look in the chief’s eyes, and she knew he had similar experiences in the past; of feeling small and powerless against someone who should have been one’s shelter from the world. “Yes.”

“Then don’t be late.”

Aguni leaves, while a dumbfounded Yamaneko stays in her spot, still processing the events of the day. Cold fingers trail on her good shoulder and she turns to see her lover’s face. A smile blooms on her painted lips.

“Takatora. You didn’t attend a game?”

“I was patrolling on the upper floors. I can’t leave you here on the Beach alone either.”

“Ah,” she replies, holding his hand as they walk back to their room. “I guess we deserve a little break from all the madness of the games.”

After some time, as they lay on their shared bed, Yamaneko asks her lover a question. “Are you worried about my father being here?”

He nods, and squeezes her small hand.

“Don’t worry too much. Besides, the chief said he’ll be training me every five in the afternoon. I’ll kick the bastard’s ass if he tries anything.”

Takatora tilts his head. “The chief?” he asks almost disbelievingly.

“Yeah. It’s kind of strange.”

“You didn’t do anything to earn his ire, didn’t you?”

Yamaneko raises an eyebrow. “No.”

“Good luck. He’s... strict.”

“I know, I know.”

The first day she trained with Aguni, she expected it to be difficult, but not this severe. The wildcat pants as she ran her second lap around the Beach, sweat dripping from her skin and stinging the healing burns on her left arm. Onlookers were staring, and some militants were chuckling among themselves. Niragi sees her, and yells after her.

“Yamaneko, what the hell are you doing?”

“Chief wanted me to run laps!” she shouts, voice hoarse.

“What did you do?”

“Huh?” Yamaneko asks, irritation growing. “No time to talk, gotta run!”

Hanako, the militant who once accompanied her in the dressing room, watches as Yamaneko jogs past her, raising an eyebrow. “Huh. When the chief asks us to do something like that, it’s usually because we pissed him off,” she mutters.

“She must’ve pissed him off bad, then,” Saiko butts in, passing the other girl a cigarette.

As fast as her legs can take her, Yamaneko sprints at the last few meters when Aguni comes into view. As she runs past him, she collapses and lies on the ground. Her feet ache, and it doesn’t help that her sandals aren’t made for running.

“What the hell are you doing? You need to cool down. Walk!” he barks, and Yamaneko suppresses a pathetic sigh as she forces herself up. She paces around in circles, occasionally stretching her arms and legs. Satisfied, Aguni lets her sit, and he tosses her a bottle of water. She gulps it down.

“I’m gonna hit the showers now, chief,” she pants, and Aguni tilts his head.

“You think you’re done for the day?” he asks.

Yamaneko couldn’t answer, looking at him in disbelief.

“Not yet, you’re not. You still have some grapples and knife techniques to study. Stand up!”

She swore she wanted to cry, but Yamaneko kept her mouth in a tight line, swallowed hard, and got on her feet.

“This is nothing compared to the shit I endured in the past,” she thinks to herself, and carries on.

Two. Three. Five. Ten times, she ended up on her ass, disarmed and beaten by the chief every single time. As she was starting to reconsider what she thought earlier, the chief holds a meaty hand out, and she grabs it. Aguni helps her to her feet, and pats her back, almost making her lurch forward.

Yamaneko freezes at the friendly touch. All the touches she got from authority figures, her father especially, was nothing like this.

“Focus on your footwork.”

Then, he leaves without saying anything else. Tired, bruised, but fulfilled, Yamaneko shouts a spirited “Yes, chief!” as he walks away.

Taking a deep breath, the younger militant finishes what’s left of her water, and heads back to her shared room. Takatora is waiting inside, fresh from a patrol, and upon seeing her sweaty and disheveled form, he lets go of whatever he was reading to check on her.

Yamaneko holds two thumbs up and beams at him, voice failing her.

“Did the chief go too hard on you?”

“No. Well, yes. But, it’s fine. I learned a lot,” she says as she sits next to him. “You know, he’s more of a parental figure to me than my own father.”

Takatora snorts at the idea of Aguni being a father, but the more he thought about it, the more he agreed with her. He’ll never say it out loud, though.

On the tenth day of Yamaneko’s training, in the middle of sparring with the chief, one of Hatter’s men approached them.

“Aguni. Please come with us. Take her with you too,” he says in an urgent manner, brows furrowed in concern.

“You better have a good reason for this interruption,” he growls, picking up a towel and slinging it over his shoulder.

“There’s been another killing. Please take care of it discreetly. Hatter doesn’t like it when things like this goes public.”

A lump forms in Yamaneko’s throat as she follows Aguni to the hotel room holding the victim. When they arrived, Ann was there, assessing the situation, and the victim sprawled on the floor, a diagonal cut on his neck. A few men were setting up a stretcher nearby, and they halted when they saw the leader of the militants enter the room.

“It’s similar to the previous case,” Ann starts, taking off her shades. “The wounds are consistent with the type I found on Mrs. Yamane. A laceration to the neck with a sharp object,” she continues, holding a clean handkerchief and tilting the victim’s head. “And this time, the glass fragments stuck on his skin are more obvious. Whoever committed these murders used a shard of glass as an improvised weapon.”

The taller woman turns to Yamaneko. “I’ve corroborated your statement with the other residents on your floor. They indeed heard you that morning, so you couldn’t have been with your stepmother. Your method of exsanguinating traitors before disposal doesn’t align with the ones used in these murders, either. The odds of you being the killer are low, from this information.”

“Any clue on the killer's identity?” Aguni asks, watching the corpse. The victim died with his eyes wide open, the look of terror etched on his face.

“We have a lead,” says Ann, full of cold confidence. “For now, bring her to the makeshift lab discreetly. I need to do a full autopsy.”

Boots thudding against the floor, Aguni walks towards the corpse, and hooks his arms under his armpits. Instinctively, Yamaneko grabs his feet. As they lay him down on the stretcher, the victim’s mangled arm, riddled with stab wounds due to his attempt of protecting himself from his assailant, slips and dangles off the edge. Looking around, Yamaneko grabs the end of a curtain, and puts it back in place. The victim’s Beach tag, number 28, reflects the moonlight streaming from the window, and Yamaneko’s eyes trail to the glittering mess of broken glass on the floor, which contrasts with the dark blood splatters on the wood.

“Hey, Ann,” she calls her attention. “I think I found the murder weapon.”

The taller woman hands her the handkerchief, and she picks up a large shard of glass, its pointed end jagged and stained with blood. Ann holds it out in the light, making out some fingerprints.

“Good,” she said, then she prompts them to follow.

“That face is going to haunt me,” one of Hatter’s men comments, and Yamaneko gulps.

“Me too,” she adds.

Hatter’s devotee looks at the militant, a question hanging from his open mouth, but he chooses to keep it shut. Sensing his hesitation, Yamaneko rolls her eyes and quietly gets to work.

Glancing at the dead’s face, whose eyes were frozen in an expression of distress, Yamaneko grimaces and closes his eyes with her fingers. She pulls the curtains off the rods, and covers his bloody body. The crimson quickly soaks through the fabric.

That night, the wildcat sat in the bath longer than usual.

Wading over to his lover’s side, Takatora helps Yamaneko settle into his chest as he wraps both arms around her. In silence, she mulls about her day, brows furrowed.

“You’re bothered by something,” Takatora speaks up.

“I had to carry a corpse with the chief earlier. And my father is still living on the Beach. Ugh. Takatora, I just want to get away from all this. I mean, I’m not going to leave and turn traitor. I crave some change of scenery, maybe explore some places outside the Beach.”

Playing with Yamaneko’s hair, Takatora presses his mouth behind her head. “Supply runners leave for food and gasoline at eight in the morning. I help put away the gas when they return in the afternoon.”

Yamaneko looks up to give him a mischievous grin. “Do you think we can scare them into driving for us?”

He nods, and she laughs with a childish giddiness.

“Great! There’s this place I’ve been wanting to visit again.”

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-10)

Word count: 5.2K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Implied smut, fluff :)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: No angst again! And good stuff. I am being very nice these days ;)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​. Athina, you’re a goddess <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

10th September 2008

You woke up to something soft tickling your face, almost feather light and pleasant. Opening your eyes, you found Sam’s arms wrapped around you, nestling you in them. A glowing warmth spread through your body as you remembered last night, his lips on your skin, and the feel of his hot breath on your face. The way he had called out for you was enough to raise goosebumps on your skin now. And he’d said he loved you. Your heart thrummed in your chest at the memory.

Slowly, you removed his arm from over your body and slipped out of bed. You wanted to kiss him on his forehead or the point of his nose but Sam looked so peaceful you didn’t have the heart to wake him up. 

You pulled over the T-shirt and the boxers Sam had lent you last night and headed down to the kitchen. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to skip dinner after a morning of hangover because your stomach was churning weirdly. 

Would everything be different now? After last night. You felt like your heart would burst from all the love you were feeling. Without giving the task at hand much thought, you fried some eggs, toasted the bread and put the coffee pot on a boil, wondering what Sam had for breakfast. 

With an excitement that you had never felt before, you carried the tray laden with food upstairs, wondering how to wake Sam up. As it turned out, Sam was already sitting up, a confused expression on his face. The sheets were bunched around his waist and the sight of his naked torso made your face feel hot. When he saw you, his eyes lit up, a smile replacing the frown.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the tray before him and then joining him on the bed.

His eyes softened. “You didn’t need to,” he said, gesturing towards the food. “Not seeing you here, I was starting to worry that last night had been a dream.”

“Only the best dream of my life,” you muttered, pouring his coffee. “Black with half spoon sugar. Just like you have it.”

Sam was still stuck on your words. He took the cup from your hands and placed it back on the tray, then pulled you to him. “That’s just it. I didn’t want it to be a dream. Even if it was the best dream ever. All dreams, even the best ones end when you wake up. But with you… I don’t ever want this to end.”

You reached out and kissed him. At first he was surprised, then he leaned into it. Kissing Sam was like a breath of fresh air for your soul. If it was left to you, you would spend an obscene amount of time kissing him.

“This is one way to start the day,” he chuckled.

“Mhmmm…” you sighed, handing him the coffee and starting on the eggs. 

“Funny that Jo didn’t turn the place upside down looking for me,” you wondered idly. You should have told her where you were last night.

“I called her when you got here,” Sam said. “When er… when you were having a bath.”

Sam was always so thoughtful. Last night it hadn’t even occurred to you to let Jo know, about the acceptance or the fact that you were here, and you weren’t particularly proud of it. Absentmindedly, you scooted closer to Sam and like it was the most natural thing to do, he put his arm around you. The heat coming of his skin and his scent was so comforting, you all but melted against his side. A girl could get used to this.

“Hey,” Sam nudged you with his lips pressed in your hair. “You know that NC Central is only a seven hour drive from New York, right?”

Of course you knew that. It was a great school, but it was also on the East coast, where Sam would be. You nodded against his neck, lightly tracing the hard lines of his stomach. 

“I could drive over the weekends to see you.” There was hope in his voice.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you smiled at the thought of it all. A new school, a new life with Sam in it. You thought of happy weekends and flinging yourself into his arms whenever you saw him. You pictured his wide smiles, and the joy in his eyes when he saw you. “I could hop on a bus on Friday night and be there in New York in the morning. You’d show me around, wouldn’t you? I’ve never been to such a big city.”

“You have no idea,” he said. “I’ve never wanted that job more than now. Hell, I’d throw myself into preparing for the bar, if it keeps us that close now.”

“Mhmm.” You huddled closer to him.

“What’re you thinking?”

“About how I’m going to afford this,” you said. “NC central isn’t that expensive, but it’s still a lot considering I have almost nothing to my name. I don’t want to sell off Gran’s house.”

“You want to make it into a bakery, I remember,” he said, gently, then added hesitantly. “Maybe I could-”

“No!” You sat up straight. “Absolutely not. I can’t ask this from you.” You hurried to explain, seeing the slightly hurt expression on his face. “This isn’t about you in any way. It’s very kind of you to offer, it really is. But I want to do this by myself. I’ll apply for a student’s loan. Like I said, the money isn’t an impossible sum. I just need a guarantor to vouch for me at the bank. I don’t want to ask aunt El cause I know she had some bank problems with the diner. She doesn’t trust them very much.”

Sam looked thoughtful.

“What’re you thinking?” You asked suspiciously. “Don’t think about volunteering.” 

His finger was drawing a pattern on your shoulder as he licked his lips. “You know I can’t. I don’t own any property myself. You should ask Dean, though.”

“Dean?” You looked up at him surprised. “Why would he?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Sam countered. “He might not show it, but he does like you. You’re not asking him to pay for your college, you’re just asking him to be a guarantor. He has great credit, the bank won’t refuse that. It’s not like you’re going to dupe him. I know my brother. Trust me, he’ll be happy to help you.”

When you still looked surprised, Sam took hold of your hand and pressed it to his lips. “Don’t overthink this. You said you wanted to do this by yourself, so you bring it up with him. I promise I won’t say a word.”

“You’re awesome. You know that, right?”

He winked. “I don’t know about that. But I’m sure happy you think that!”

You removed the tray from the bed and placed it on the side table, then moved over to straddle Sam, hands placed on either side of his face. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

In a quick moment, Sam flipped you, so that you were lying on the bed with him hovering over you. He dipped down to kiss the hollow of your neck, then whisper against your skin. “The pleasure is all mine.”

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

“You know, if you keep bouncing on the balls of your feet like that,” Meg said drowsily from the table, where she sat flipping through a magazine, “I’m going to side with Kevin on this. You’re hiding something.”

You put your lunch in the bag, wondering just how to tell her. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide your history from your roommate. There was just so much of it, you had no idea where to start. For now, you just settled for, “There’s this professor. I thought he was mad at me. Turns out he isn’t.”

“Wow. It doesn’t take much to get you all chirpy.”

Just the feeling of six years worth of hell coming to an end.

“Ready to go?” You asked and Meg jumped down from the high stool.

“Yep.”

“Is this the same good looking professor?” She asked out the blue as you reached the campus gates.

“How do you know about the good looking professor?” You narrowed your eyes. You had mentioned Sam only to one person in the apartment.

Meg looked taken aback for a second, then said nonchalantly. “Cas told me.”

“You two are really close, aren’t you?” Try as you may, you couldn’t keep the sly tone out of your voice completely. 

Meg changed the topic smoothly, but not before you saw the faint blush on her cheeks.

Meg blushing? Speak of novelty.

She waved you a goodbye at the entrance of the law building, heading north to the Physics department. Wondering if anyone else in the apartment had noticed, you entered the class for your first lecture. 

Professor Mills was in a great mood today, and she encouraged a debate on whether Legal writing and its syntax should affect how seriously the core content of any litigation is treated. You firmly believed that poor syntax should in no way undermine the severity of any litigation, and made your points with citation. The opposite team consisting of Brad and everyone in Madison’s group tried to put up a strong fight, but you knew you had the moral high ground on that one. Maddy was smiling by the end of it, but the expression on the other’s faces ranged from disappointment to disgust.

Professor Mills mentioned you by your name at the end of the class, lauding you for your points. It was enough to give you the high of the day. You simply loved her.

As the college day neared its end, you were excited for Civil Procedures, excited to see Sam again. Maybe he wouldn’t ignore you now. Maybe he’d actually look at you and smile. Your eyes were eagerly glued to the door, waiting for him while everyone chattered in the background.  

It wasn’t Sam who came in. Instead, the TA Paul announced that the lecture has been cancelled for today and tomorrow. Professor Winchester would take double lectures in the following week to cover it up. 

“Well, dang it!” Meredith cursed. “After that horrible debate, I was looking forward to seeing that chiseled face.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s disappointed,” Lacey said slyly. “Y/N looks like someone kicked her puppy.”

You schooled your expressions immediately. 

Madison rolled her eyes. “Everyone was looking forward to it. Maybe he has something important. Remember he ditched Thursday, Friday on our first week, too.”

“Maybe he’s just playing hooky with his girlfriend,” Rebecca shrugged. You had a maddening urge to slap her. It wasn’t fair to direct all your anger at her; you knew that. However, listening to her words, evaporated the high you had been feeling completely.

How naive of you to think that one small conversation could make everything okay. Maybe he went back home and changed his mind, had seen that the exchange was a lapse in his judgement. Your stomach dropped at that thought. Why did he have to show you a moment of softness, if he was just going to take it all away? It would have been better then, had he continued to ignore your existence. You had been making your peace with it. You didn’t think you had it in you to take one more hit after feeling hope, at last.

Morosely, you started picking up your things.

“Y/N. Don’t forget about the party, tomorrow.”

Madison was looking at you with wide eyes.

You opened your mouth to make up a reason. She cut you off-

“Look, I checked your schedule. You’re not working this weekend. This is your last working day for the week. I’ve made all the reservations and counted you in.”

“Maddie-”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you? The drinks are on me.”

Looking at her, you just couldn't say no. 

“I was gonna say that I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Yay!” She shot out of her chair and flung her arms around you. Surprised, you put your hand against her back. 

“Told you she’d come,” Madison told her friends. Lacey gave you a smile, Meredith looked disinterested and Rebecca had her back turned to you completely. That summed it up accurately. For the umpteeth time you wondered how their group functioned at all.

Brad, who had been lingering at the table with his guy friends, gave you a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N finally gracing us with her presence?”

“Oh, butt out, Brad,” Madison shoved him. “If you keep acting like a dick, she might change her mind.”

“Now we wouldn’t want that, would we,” he said under his breath.

You didn’t want any more of their company than what was absolutely required, so you said your goodbye to Madison and left the lecture hall for the day. With your sulky attitude, returning to the apartment wasn’t an option in case you ran into someone. Those guys were very perceptive and you didn’t want to lie to them anymore.

After wandering aimlessly underneath the pergolas of the Quadrangle, you headed to the library. It was about two in the afternoon; four more hours and it would be your shift anyway.

You decided to have your lunch in the closed quarters of the librarian’s room. There wasn’t much to the room except a makeshift bed, a table, chair and a coffee machine. You could sit there and catch up with the essays after lunch.

The on shift librarian wasn’t Molly today, but this other odd hours guy. She was hovering over him, giving instructions. When she saw you, she ushered you to the side. “It’s his first time. I’m training him for the weekend.”

“Oh.” You looked over at the guy. He was clearly an anxious wreck. You felt bad for him.

“Hey listen,” you said, “Is it okay if I use the librarian’s room? I haven’t had lunch and I don’t want to go to the eateries or the mess.”

She gave you a guilty look. “The room is kinda sorta… ocupado.”

“What?”

“See for yourself.” She took hold of your hand and pulled you towards the room in question.

The door was almost closed, save for a small slit. Through it, you could see Sam sitting on the table, multiple books and files scattered around him. He was absolutely absorbed in whatever he was doing, forehead lined in concentration.

“What the-”

Molly shushed you. “Look, I know this looks weird, but he’s in the middle of something. They convicted one of his key clients, and he said he needed some place quiet to figure this out.”

“What about his firm?” You asked the obvious question.

“Client’s not from SF. He’s from LA. Heading to Acton Gris would be going in the opposite direction.”

“Then what about his office here?” You were so surprised that the questions just flowed out of your mouth.

Molly gave an exasperated sigh. “Students. They keep knocking on the door.” She gave you a desperate look. “Please Y/N, let him be. He’s really worked up about it.”

“Yeah, of course,” you assured her. 

She looked grateful. “This isn’t conventional, but he’s one of the good folks around here. I knew him from the alumni fraternity before he started teaching here. In fact, he recommended me for my internship at the LA firm he was working in then.”

That explained why she called him by his first name. She was preaching to the choir about how good Sam was though.

“That’s all fine,” you said. “Just let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

“Molly?”

Both of you jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Molly?” He asked again. “Is that you?”

She pushed the door open.

“Yeah it’s me.” She looked at you. “And this is Y/N. You remember her from the other day, don’t you?”

He smiled at you. It was a tired smile, but it held the mischief of a secret only the two of you knew.

“I remember her,” he said dryly.

All the distress and world ending angst you had been feeling since the class vanished into thin air.

“I-I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you said quickly. “I just came in to check if I could have lunch here. Clearly you are busy working, so I’m just going to go now.”

“You’re not disturbing,” he said firmly. “I’ll clear the table. You can have lunch here.”

“No- no,” you backed off. “Seriously. I can go to the mess.”

“Y/N.” He looked beyond exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in a while. Even his words were heavy. “C’mon, in. At least sit on the bed.”

Molly poked you in the back from behind and you stumbled inside. 

The room was a mess. There were papers everywhere. Sam was one of the most organised people you knew. If there was that much mess around him, either he had changed drastically in the years or this was really a disaster situation. 

“Tell me if I can help you with anything.” The words were out before you could even think them through. 

He rubbed his hand across his face. “I can’t possibly ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.”

You didn’t know if this fell in line with proper etiquette of how one should converse with a professor, but this was Sam, and he looked ready to drop. To hell with etiquette. You were going to do whatever you could to help.

Behind you, Molly had disappeared back into the library.

He paused, considering your words, then sighed. “Even if you wanted to, this is too much to explain.”

You flung your bag on the bed and rolled up the sleeves of your sweater. “I’ve worked as a paralegal for an asshole boss. I think I can keep up.”

Sam gave you a look that was halfway between impressed and surprised. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath, so softly that you almost missed it. “Alright, here’s the details of the case-”

You listened attentively as he quickly briefed you about this teenage boy, James Feller, who had been arrested for grand auto theft about four years back. The boy testified against the gang, cut a deal with the DA and walked. Now he had been arrested again, and after being let out, jumped the bail. Sam had until tomorrow to fix it or this kid was spending a long, long time in jail. Sam was sure that James hadn’t done it. He had some grabs from CCTV footage to prove his alibi. It only needed to be put together. He might be completely innocent when it came to the theft, but there was still the bail issue to take care of.

“Right, I’ll go through the log to see if there’s anything similar where an underage defendant jumped bail and got out of prison under the jurisdiction of LA,” you said.

“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” he said, astonished again.

You shrugged and pulled out your laptop, signing into the library’s archival server with your password. There were a couple of cases that could be cited in context to Sam’s case. You pulled out the soft copies of the litigations and highlighted the relevant extracts. 

“You guys need anything?” Molly was standing at the door. She had her bag on her shoulder. You looked at the clock. It was already six, time for your shift to begin. Where had the time gone?

“We’re good,” Sam said.

“Seriously? You guys don’t need anything? Not even coffee?” She came to stand by the coffee machine. “I’m making a cup for myself anyway.”

You gave in. “I’d like a cup. Thanks, Molly.”

“One for me, too,” Sam caved, too.

“You guys look intense working like that,” she said, filling the pot with water. “Are you making any headway?”

“Y/N found some useful citations.” Sam closed the heavy book before him and leaned back in his chair, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt. The coat had been hung over the back of his chair since long before. You tried not to look at him too much.

“Good on you, Y/N!” Molly said, pulling on three mugs. “How do you have your coffee?”

“Little milk and one spoon sugar,” you said politely.

“Sam?”

There was no response. You looked to see that he was busy with his phone, having not heard a single word of it.

“Let it be,” you suggested, seeing as Molly was shuffling the strap of her bag. “You go on. I’ll manage the coffee.”

“You’re a lovely person!” She noted with just a hint of surprise, then blew you a kiss. “See you later, Chica bonita.”

You poured coffee for him, black with half spoon of sugar, stirred it and carefully handed it to him. He took it gratefully, holding out two fingers as he talked over the phone. 

You grabbed your mug and went back to your laptop. It appeared that Sam was talking to a colleague explaining the things he needed to get ready. He took a sip of the coffee and stopped mid sentence, looking at you over his screen in wonderment.

“Chase, I’ll call you back in a minute.”

You had gathered your stuff in one hand.

“Y/N?” Sam interrupted you, voice oddly tender. “You remembered.”

He was holding his mug out. The warm vapours were slightly fogging his glasses.

“Of course I remember.”

There was no way you would forget.

He saw your things wrapped in your hand and the bag slung over your shoulder.

“You’re leaving?” Disappointment clear in his tone.

You shook your head. “I’m just going outside at the desk. It’s my shift now. I’ll continue tagging relevant extracts and have three sets of printouts ready for you. You’ll let me know if you need more time? I can keep the library running all night.”

“You’re the power wielding person here, aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” you grinned. “I’ll leave you it.”

Once outside, you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Being around Sam made you conscious of every little thing… enough to drive you crazy. Maybe it was a good thing that you were going to the party tomorrow. You needed a drink. That thought inadvertently reminded you of Jo- the only sister you’d ever had. If she were here, she would have told you to go for it despite knowing how insane drunk Y/N was and wreck you would be the next day. The memory of her also made you sad, the missing was gut wrenching sometimes. You almost turned on your heel and headed by inside to ask Sam about Jo and about Dean. Were they still together? Did the diner ever get out of the bumpy patch? How was aunt El doing? 

Did they hate you for leaving like that?

That thought brought you up short. You didn’t want to know the answer to that question. There was a small hope within you. If Sam of all people could find it in himself to be civil with you, maybe they would, too. Broaching the topic now would be disastrous. It wouldn’t help Sam right now to lose concentration. Hell, he might do a 180 and suddenly remember that he didn’t like you.

You got back to your desk, filing the cards out for the day before getting to Sam’s paperwork. Though it was a manual job, you did it with utmost concentration, knowing how chaotic courtrooms got and how crucial it was to find the right evidence at the right time. Alongside, you carefully read the suit and arranged the stacks according to the order in which they were needed.

“You know, if you kept going at it like that, you’ll have to represent the boy tomorrow.”

You looked up and your breath hitched. Sam stood before you, his shirt partially untucked and sleeves rolled all the way up till his elbows. The tie was gone and the top button of his shirt was undone. There was a glint of silver against his neck, a thin chain. You wondered where it had come from absently. Without the glasses, and his hair slightly dishevelled, you could see some of the guy you had first fallen in love with.

You looked away quickly, blinking several times, then pushed the stack of printouts towards him. All three copies, arranged as per the appearances of the evidence in the suit papers. The affidavits are all the bottom, along with the supplementary copies.

“You should come down to the office and train my assistant,” he said, leaning over the table so that his elbow rested on top. “He can’t find one paper on time.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

“Aren’t you having dinner?” He asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. He was nervous. 

“I’m not hungry.” Your stomach was already so full of butterflies, you didn’t think any food could go in.

“I’m already feeling terrible that you’re helping me with this… please don’t skip dinner for it.” There was something about his voice that affected your soul. The sound of his words were different from everyone elses. All words felt kinder, lovelier when he said them.

“Why are you fighting for this kid?” The words slipped past you before you could stop them. You had been wondering this all evening. “I saw the papers. You’re doing this pro bono and not for Acton Gris. This is your own case.”

He didn’t reply immediately and his face had a far away look. When he finally spoke, it was in a reminiscing tone. “I met James when he was a foster kid a few years ago. He got pushed into the racket because of bad influence. When I saw him at the retention centre, he broke down completely. They were blackmailing him by threatening to hurt his little sister. When he first got off, he looked at me like I was some kind of miracle.”  Sam’s face had an awed look, as if he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could think that of him.

“I knew he wouldn’t get into this again. He’s in college now and has basically turned his life around. We have enough evidence to pin a gang member down for framing him. I don’t want anyone at Acton Gris to help me on this because this is my own case. Putting some poor junior on it is just abusing my power.”

He was a good man. That in itself didn’t surprise you because you had always known it. What surprised you was that he had remained one. Sam used to be starry eyed with ambitions and full of a thirst to do the right thing. He had been so idealistic. It worried you that one day he would wake up and see that the world was an even worse place than what he thought it to be. You worried that the ruthless profession might kill some of the inherent goodness in him. After having lost just as much as you, he hadn’t lost faith in the world. He had remained good.

“What?” He questioned and you realised you were staring.

“There you are!”

Jody Mills stood behind Sam, a harried expression on her face. He straightened up immediately and it occurred to you how close your faces had been.

“I went to your house, called up your PA, and here you are.”

“Jody?” He clearly hadn’t expected her.

She handed him the bag she was carrying. “I have dinner for you. I knew you would bury yourself in the case and wouldn’t cook since you’re by yourself now.”

Now. What did that mean? Lacey’s remark about Sam living in family quarters and having a girlfriend came to your mind. You dismissed it quickly.

“Didn’t see you there, Y/N,” Professor Mills came around. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Actually I just started a week ago.”

Her eyes flitted to the stack in front of you. “And what’s this?”

“Y/N’s been helping me with some printing,” Sam said.

Professor Mills gave him a once over. “Sam Winchester making students work?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended quickly. “I offered to help S- Mr. Winchester. I have some experience as a paralegal and this was only a matter of making copies.”

“You did a lot more than that,” Sam corrected smoothly.

“I was only joking.” she placed a hand on Sam’s arm and you noted that they were probably closer than just colleagues. Friends even. “You, on the other hand, keep surprising me, Y/N. This looks like solid work.”

You blushed at the compliment, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sam gazed down at you oddly. If you didn’t know any better, you might have misinterpreted it as a hint of pride. 

“You have your food!” Jody ordered him and waved at you. “See you in class tomorrow, Y/N.”

“Good night,” you wished her.

Before leaving, she glanced from you to Sam and back again, a peculiar look in her eyes, shook her head and left.

She had packed a burger and pack of oily fries for Sam. You saw his brow furrow at the sight of it and smiled to yourself. Some things never changed.

Sam insisted that you have your dinner, too. However, you made sure that while he sat inside, you had your dinner at your desk. There was only so much of his nearness you could take without having your feelings run wild. Sam needed to go through the case files in peace for the court tomorrow. You let him be, only visiting the librarian’s room once to let him know that you wouldn’t shut the library at all. He was grateful for it. After everyone else had left, you wrapped the shawl around your shoulders and put your head down against the wooden desk. Closing your tired eyes just for a second, you let yourself reflect on everything that had happened today and how one day could be more impactful than a month of one's life sometimes.  

You woke up several hours later. Grey light was starting to filter from the high windows. It was early dawn.

Hurriedly you got up to check on Sam, but the librarian’s room was closed from the outside, you checked in the seating area, too. There was no one there; you were by yourself in the room. 

Back to your desk, you noticed a folded piece of paper placed under your paperweight.

It said-

Y/N,

I have to start from here now to make it to LA in time for the hearing. Didn’t have the heart to wake you up. I can’t thank you enough for your invaluable help.

Regards,

Sam.

You clutched the paper tightly in your fingers, crumpling it in the process. Sometimes a few words were louder than a speech. Sometimes the gesture was even louder.

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

A/N 2: You guys! THEY TALKED! I know a lot of you have been like ‘They just need to talk’ and well, it happened. So what do you think? Uphill?

ALL MY LOVE to everyone who commented and reblogged. You guys keep me posting! <3

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[inanna-arianna]

Another meta on Lan Xichen I did not want to write

Never once does the novel state that LXC was romantically even interested in JGY. And here is why the people who ship JGY and LXC are the most tedious, annoying and delusional part of not just MDZS but MXTX works in general.

It’s their insidious and tenacious twisting of information and pushing of their headcanons as legitimate narrative. The best example of this is the wiki page for MDZS outside of tumblr. Twitter is not as infested as tumblr is. Twitter favors NieLan pairing, it would seem. But those who ship NieLan do not try to pass their ship as canon nor do they shove it down everyone’s throats. Ship all you want, but once you start adding your headcanons to profile pages that are supposed to be an objective analysis of the character profiles and source materials, that is where you become a delusional menace.

Author even went as far as to state that the only gay couple in the novel is WangXian. Why would she be coy? Why would she hide? She has written novels with more than one homosexual couples before.

To the delusional shippers LXC has gone into seclusion to repent for the killing of JGY. They even twist his seclusion to such a level that they insidiously add LXC seclusion to be the same as his father’s. Even adding it to the list of clearly romantic acts of passion such as here:

this is sadly just one of many pages they infected

I don’t think people give LXC’s dimwitted naivety the full credit it deserves. I get it, people are fond of his character. He is one of my favorite characters also. But he is not benign.

His idiocy has come with a terrible price.

Siege of Burial mounds? Against a broken man and a group of farmers who were non-combative? The siege came to their doors. WWX had the right to raise the dead to defend them. Ultimately, had LXC been a competent clan leader and had his clan stood for what they say they do: righteousness and justice, WWX would not have been as desperate as to resort to such horrible cultivation practices. Had the Lan clan been what they pride themselves at being, they would have stood on Wei Wuxian’s side. And don’t try to oversimplify it. I’m not talking just about the siege. I’m talking about the build up to it as well. But Wei Wuxian stood alone. He stood alone at the path where they failed to assassinate him. He stood alone at Nevernight. He stood alone at the siege. But the snow white boots of the righteous Lan clan, stomped the skulls of old women and frail men.

Nie Mingjue’s death is on LXC’s hands more than JGY. You don’t blame a tiger for being a tiger. It does what it was made to do. Nie Mingjue trusted Lan Xichen. Painfully so. And it cost him his life. It was LXC constantly making excuses for JGY and shielding him from criticism and consequences that allowed him to get away with all the evil he has done for so, so very long. JGY carefully and meticulously build the image Lan Xichen had of him. I don’t deny that LXC was a victim of JGY. Perhaps the most tragic victim. But it does not absolve him of his crimes and playing a part. Weather out of his dimwitted naivety or moral cowardliness, does not matter. JGY needed Lan Xichen. He needed him to be his moral guarantor, his warranty, his shield and advocate. He used LXC’s impeccable reputation as a shield. He needed LXC to vouch for him.

That is why he never mistreated Lan Xichen.

But it’s not exactly true, right? I don’t doubt that JGY in this cruelty and arrogance and lust for power truly believed that he never mistreated LXC. But that is just not true. Weather the suffering of the person Lan Xichen loved most in the world, his own brother. Or by having LXC be his unwitting accomplice in his crimes. Nie Huaisang used LXC to deliver a final blow to JGY. But JGY was a villain. JGY’s fans want to condemn Nie Huaisang for that one act but gleefully ignore just how much damage JGY has done to LXC by using him to further his own ambitions. A man that now has to live with the consequences of his naivety and blindness.

Lan Xichen spending time in seclusion is coming to terms with what he has allowed to happen by continuously absolving JGY of his crimes and willfully turning a blind eye to his wrongdoings. Do people seriously believe that a man who is the head of a clan that prides itself on righteousness and intolerance of all evil is going into mourning for the death of a villain than rather to repent for being the guarantor that allowed the said villain to go unchallenged for so long? That his reputation was used as a cover that allowed a murderer to go unpunished.

Before those shippers try to point out how LXC was hiding JGY’s crimes and avoiding reveling them out of romantic interest: Don’t try it. LXC was naïve and non-confrontational on all fronts. He stood by and watched the mistreatment of Wen civilians, elderly and disabled and even children. His greatest love is his brother, yet despite being the head of the clan he stood by and watched his brother be viciously beaten and scared for life. Even refusing to know why his gentle and kind mother would murder someone is part of his refusal to even think and dwell on things that displease or hurt him. He is an incredibly passive and lethargic person.

Even his demeanor, gentle smile and voice are a shield against aggression. Author herself has stated that when drunk his voice becomes more booming, deeper. It’s a common tactic to defuse aggression. He puts on a submissive stance. Gentle voice and smile, non-aggressive and non-threatening gestures. But even he snaps from time to time. Like he did with WWX. But ultimately he is someone who avoids confrontation and pushes all that is too hurtful for him to think about out of his mind. Even if it is his own mother and her pitiful destiny, even if it is the brutal beating of his own bother. So no, he was not hiding JGY crimes out of love or romantic interest.

Do not forget, when confronted with the facts: he sided against JGY. Immediately. He sided with his brother. He sided with the man who is possibly the only man in the world that he hates (or as close to hate as LXC can muster). LWJ one mistake in his own eyes. He helped them gather evidence against JGY. He hid WWX in Cloud Recesses at great personal risk fully knowing that he was gathering evidence against JGY. He revoked JGY’s access to Cloud Recesses as soon as suspicions rose.

My point is: Ship whatever you want to ship. But don’t insert your headcanons or shipping fantasies into source material or profile pages that are supposed to be objective. Why have I decided to go off this time? Well, I have, so far got 4 people to look into the MDZS fandom and 3 of them were very much confused as to why they could not find a single reference to JGY and LXC “epic romance”. And asked me about it. Every time it was them reading wiki pages maliciously edited by JGY/LXC delusional shippers. I’m not going off at normal shippers. I understand the appeal. Many people like to ship the victim and his/her abuser. Just look at the people who ship Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang. Not that I would ever ship those. But I’m not here to ship-shame. Just for mercy’s sake stop shoving your ship down our throats or try to pass it off as canon. It’s not.

I hate writing metas on LXC. I love his character. I truly do. I relate to him more than many other MXTX characters. He is deeply flawed. A bit dimwitted, lethargic, non-confrontational, but he is well meaning, benevolent, and generous. Whenever I have to write about him I have to unpack things I don’t particularly enjoy pointing out. See, why his character appeals to me. I don’t like thinking about those things so I push them out of my mind. And so I apologies for grammatical errors, to begin with I was short on time. But once again I was irritated into writing a meta on this subject. So I combined many of my metas and rants into this mess.

[argylemnwrites]

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Epilogue

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~2200

Rating: PG-13 (language)

Summary: Moving forward, together.

Author’s Note: This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

“So, who owns this place again?”

“It’s Cam’s uncle’s girlfriend’s sister’s building.”

“And we trust her… why?”

“Because she is fine with Cam vouching for us, so no income minimum, no issue with your lack of credit history, and no broker’s fee.”

Drake nodded. It still felt kind of shady to him, going to check out random units they heard about from different people they were tangentially connected to, but he was deferring to Riley completely, seeing as he had never been responsible for finding his own housing in his life. And apartment hunting in New York, it turned out, was a complicated task.

Back in February, when they’d started trying to figure out what neighborhoods to consider, Riley had told him not to bother searching the units listed on basically any website.

“There’s gonna be massive broker’s fees, and they probably won’t take us since we won’t have a guarantor. There’s a lot of scams, too. Just talk to your coworkers, word of mouth is going to be the best way to do this,” she’d warned him. 

Drake had done as she’d asked, but the units that his connections, the ones at the law firm he’d been sent to as coverage for one of the assistants who was out after surgery, recommended had not been a good fit. One didn’t allow dogs, one had been a definite bait and switch scam that looked nothing like the pictures he’d been shown, and the one they’d checked out last week was nice, but they would have needed a roommate to make it affordable, something they both weren’t really interested in doing.

But today they were checking out a one bedroom place in the Kensington neighborhood in Brooklyn that she’d heard about through one of her managers. They were supposed to meet with the building owner at 3 o’clock, so they had taken the F train over just after lunch so that Drake could get a better feel for the area.

Now that it was April, the weather was finally feeling like spring more consistently. It really couldn’t have been a nicer day for them to walk around the neighborhood. Drake was shocked at how close they were to a park. It was crowded as all get out, given that everyone and their mother seemed to want to take advantage of the pleasant day, but Prospect Park was large, had fishing spots, and most importantly, was some actual green space. While there were still numerous restaurants in the neighborhood, it felt so much more residential than their current apartment’s location. Drake could actually see why people would choose to live in a place like this.

The building owner, Kris, let them in and showed them up to the second floor walk-up she was looking to lease. It was in an older building, but everything looked well maintained at least. And it was big, probably twice as big as their current apartment. Drake was sure the fact that he’d been living in a 35 square meter studio for over four months was influencing him, but it just felt larger than his quarters at the palace had been, even though he was sure that wasn’t the case.

He wandered around, checking out the bedroom while Riley chatted specifics with Kris. After their first apartment tour a couple of weekends ago, they’d both quickly decided that was the best approach. Not only did Riley have more experience and knew the better questions to ask, but when left to her own devices, she was often able to charm landlords into throwing in some sort of perk, like waiving the pet fee or granting them some flexibility on move in dates. It was best to let her just do her thing.

As he checked out the closet space, it hit him how different his life was now than it was even six months ago. That Drake would have just been amazed that Riley would ever willingly choose to be with him over Liam. He could have never pictured himself choosing an apartment in New York with her. Sitting down and making plans for the future with her. 

It was easy to look at her and say that the change was all about her. And to an extent, that was true. He probably wouldn’t have found the motivation to make any changes in his life if he hadn’t met her. But it really was about more than that. It was about stepping up, letting go of the past, and taking ownership of his own happiness. He remembered Riley yelling at him, telling him he was scared to make changes in his life because he might still end up miserable on the other side of them. Basically telling him he needed to stop making himself a victim by his own choosing. And she’d been right.

Sure, some things were still a work in progress. Their visit to Texas a handful of weeks ago had proven that his relationship with his mother was not going to be mended overnight, after all. But on the other hand, he was hard pressed to imagine the man he was six months ago willingly getting an office job and going out for drinks after work with colleagues. He probably also wouldn’t have gotten a more “professional” haircut at the advice of one of those coworkers in hopes of turning a temp job into a permanent one. He would have fought such advice tooth and nail, insisting that anyone who cared that much about something as dumb as a haircut was a stuck up asshole, not worth his time. And while part of him still felt that way, he now saw it was a small price to pay to try and gain a more stable income so that Riley could cut down to part time at the bar and go back to college in the fall and work on finishing those last two semesters. Plus, she seemed to like his cleaned up cut, which was an added bonus.

The only way her going back to school was even a possibility was actually because of Maxwell. When he had let them know he was coming to New York for a “business venture,” they had both been confused, to say the least. But, when they met up with him for dinner and drinks, he’d told them he had found a way to bring some much needed cash to the Beaumonts - he had sold the rights to a holiday movie to the Hallmark channel, and that the script was so well received that they wanted him to keep writing for them. This had meant nothing to Drake himself, but Riley had just laughed, explaining that it was a TV network that made dozens of cheesy romance movies each year, many of them centered around Christmas.

When pressed, Maxwell had informed them, rather reluctantly, that the plot of the movie centered around a New York City waitress who came to a European country as the date of a prince for some Christmas ball, but ended up falling in love with his best friend. Despite Maxwell’s assurances that he was barely inspired by them and that all the names and locations were changed and that Christmas had nothing to do with Riley’s time in Cordonia, Drake and Riley had called him out on profiting off their story. Eventually, they struck a deal - they got a percentage of his payout for the script, which was going to cover most of Riley’s first semester tuition, and Maxwell had to help them with their move. It still irritated Drake a bit that Maxwell had just decided to throw their story out there for the world, but Liam had told him he approved the script and said it really wasn’t identifying at all, so Drake just decided to be grateful that Maxwell had not only brought Riley into his life, but also was giving her a ticket towards a job that didn’t require her to work a shitton of nights and weekends.

Drake wandered back towards the living and kitchen area, passing Riley and Kris in the narrow hallway, looking at the bathroom. He squeezed her hand as he passed them, and she threw him a little wink. He took in the main space of the apartment. They would be able to get a couch and a TV in there with their table, maybe even a bookcase. The kitchen was actually pretty nice, too. It probably had three times as much counter space as their current place. Everything here felt like it could work.

He opened the cabinets absentmindedly, half checking out the storage space, half waiting to see what Riley had to say about the place. After a couple more minutes, Riley and Kris came back out.

“Alright, well I’ll give you two a minute to talk it over,” said Kris, heading to the door, “I’ll be back in a few and you can let me know if you want to go forward with a lease.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Kris.” said Riley, leaning against the end of the counter.

As soon as the door latched, Riley looked up at Drake, “So what do you think?”

“I think it’s great. It feels too good, to be honest. How bad’s the rent?”

Riley paused for a couple seconds, “1850.”

“That can’t be right. That’s less than what we’re paying now, and it’s so much bigger.”

She chuckled a little bit, “Well, that’s the beauty of not living in a prime neighborhood.”

Drake just shook his head. He considered this location to be far more desirable than their current one, but he knew he was in the minority there. “What do you think about it?”

“I think this could be a really good fit for us.”

“You’re okay with his neighborhood?”

She nodded and gave him a smile, “This is a pretty diverse area of the city, so the restaurant options are good, and there’s decent access to the Q and F trains, so the commute shouldn’t be too bad.” She stood up and joined him further in the kitchen, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Let’s be real, Drake. I’m not going to be as hard to please with this as you are. So, you gotta be honest with me. Can you see yourself here?”

He nodded, “Yeah, Liu. I can. I love this place.”

“Really?”

“Really. Is she willing to lease to us?”

“It seems like it. It sounds like her last tenant moved out unexpectedly, and her late partner used to handle the financial side of things, so she just wants to rent it out as quickly as possible.”

“And she’s cool with Anderson?”

“She told me she’s fine with small breeds.”

“Great, let’s sign.”

“Woah there,” she said, laughing, “And they say I’m the impulsive one.”

“What’s to discuss, Liu? Do you think we’re gonna find a better place than this one?”

She just shook her head and shrugged a little.

“Okay, then I stand by my statement  - we should sign the lease today. If she’s motivated to lease this unit quickly, don’t we need to jump on it?”

“I just want you to be sure, Drake,” Riley said, biting her lip slightly before she continued, “Last time you moved on a whim, things kind of… blew up for us for a while.”

Drake let out a little snort, “I think this is a little different, Liu.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “That may be the case, but I want us to actually take a minute and think about this. Make sure we can see ourselves here, okay?” And with that she plopped down on the floor, laying back and closing her eyes.

“Uh, Liu… what the fuck are you doing?”

She opened one eye and squinted at him, “I’m just taking a moment to tune out everything else and think about this. You should try it,” she said, waving him down.

Drake rolled his eyes, but sat down on the kitchen floor and leaned back slowly in the opposite direction. This seemed dumb as hell, but if it’s what she needed from him to not feel like he was going to flake out on her, he would do it.

They laid like that for almost a minute, breathing slowly. No fears or concerns or worries crept into his mind, which he was pretty sure was the point of this exercise. He wasn’t sure how long they were supposed to do this, but then he heard her moving and felt her curl her body against his head, snaking her hand under his neck and resting her head on his chest.

“So, any reservations about his place?” she asked.

He opened his eyes and glanced down at her. Her eyes were staring back at him, wide and dark.

“None,” he said shaking his head slightly, “I think the fact that there’s enough floor space in the kitchen for us to do this has just convinced me even more.”

She chuckled softly, tracing soft circles along his neck with her fingers. “So, you want to sign the lease then?”

“Yeah, Liu,” he said, letting his eyes fall shut at her soothing touch, “This feels like home.”

Permatag: @speedyoperarascalparty @mfackenthal  @lilyofchoices  @thequeenofcronuts  @jamesashtonisbae

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019   @sirbeepsalot  @texaskitten30   @princessleac1  @ladyangel70  @dcbbw  @yaushie @octobereighth

Drake x MC only:  @jovialyouthmusic  @iplaydrake  @gibbles82  @drakewalkerisreal  @riley--walker​ @notoriouscs​  @butindeed​  @addictedtodrakefanfic​  

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @wickedgypsymoon  @thesumofmychoices​  @cosigottahavefaith​   @thequeenchoices​  @katedrakeohd​  @feartheendlesssummer​  @ao719​  @ooo-barff-ooo​   @sunnyxdazed​

[mittens-220]

Hatamaou Short Story “Risk Your Life While Working, Dullahan!” Summary

This is actually a very old short story, but I recently dug up the summary thread on the Chinese forums after remembering it exists. This is basically the events of the first 2 volumes from Dullahan’s point of view. And some part in volume 3 when Dullahan II was bought and Dullahan’s original light was installed on it.

2 weeks after that incident in volume 1, Emi would go over every day to spy on them. This day, nothing much happened, she felt bored and tried to ride Dullahan, but she did not need to buy a bicycle. As she got off, because she did not park it properly, she was almost hit by the bicycle as it fell over. Just as she set it upright, Maou opened the window and shouted, "Isn't that enough, coming over everyday just to spy on us! I'm going to report you for stealing the bicycle!" Emi said, "Weren't you able to take the bicycle home because I was your guarantor, would reporting me for stealing the bicycle bring you any benefits?!"

Flashback section, because Maou did not really know how to ride a bicycle, Dullahan was frequently injured ever since it was bought, his loyalty would not be shaken because of small injuries like this, but recently, after meeting Emi, he became more seriously injured, frequently getting knocked onto the ground and even had his tire burst, feeling that he was going to be broken beyond repair soon.

Back to the main text, Emi was saying "Who would want to steal such a battered up bicycle!" Maou said, "Either way, today is my break and I will staying at home, hurry up and leave." Even though Emi did not believe it, but she also wanted to leave. Before she left, she talked about her eating sushi with Chiho, asking him to quickly repair his relationship with Chiho. Dullahan's perception of Chiho was, that person who became more proactive ever since the day Emi appeared. When Lucifer appeared, he also saw Chiho run out in tears, but Maou did not ride him after that, so he didn't know anything about what happnened afterwards, only seeing Emerada and Alberto being brought back by Emi, then saw Maou carrying Ashiya and Lucifer back. That day, Dullahan heard that Maou was a demon, but he did not understand what a demon was, only trembling because he sensed that his master had an unknown secret.

Some time passed after that, and everyone, including Emi, felt that Suzuno was very suspicious. Not long after, Chiho came over with a very scary expression on her face, Dullahan concluded that she came to declare war, so what kind of tragedy would his master get into. However, all of them came out normally, it was just that there was an additional person eating together with them. After that, when Maou came out pushing the bicycle, he was pulled over by Chiho to chat. Dullahan, being more sensitive than Maou, realised this is a form of attack, and he felt that ever since that day he heard about "Demons", Chiho finally sorted about her feelings. Then Chiho confessed.

At that moment, Maou stopped the bicycle, and his grip on the brakes was 50% stronger than normal, but before Maou could reply anything, Suzuno butted in, and Dullahan was suddenly snatched by Chiho and she ran away. Because she was cycling so fast, the heat from the friction was so hot that he felt it was painful, and he prayed with all his might to the deity of bicycles that he would not encounter a huge disaster such as falling over. When the bicycle was stopped in front of Chiho's house, Dullahan objectively analysed the differences in feeling when being ridden by a man and a high school girl. In the end, because Chiho was too ashamed, she did not realise that she had snatched the bicycle and ran. After that, Chiho was extremely happy that she successfully confessed.

Dullahan did not know how the relationship between Chiho and Maou would change from now on. When Chiho apologised to Dullahan, Dullahan suddenly had a very bad feeling. After that, when Chiho rode the bicycle to MgRonalds, she apologised normally as if the confession had nver happened. As a bicycle, Dullahan only hoped that his master could lead a stable life with some exciting elements.

Dullahan, who felt tired because of human relationships suddenly felt a chill, but he did not know where it came from. After 9pm, Emi accompanied Chiho home, Dullahan sensed that there was another set of footsteps behind the pair. After some time, Maou ran out holding a mop, getting on the bicycle and rushing. Dullahan felt he was a battle horse carrying Maou and rushing forward. However, the traffic was jammed because of various reasons, Maou rushed forward without caring about anything. Experiencing many close shaves, if a bicycle could break out into cold sweat, Dullahan felt that he would have been covered in cold sweat already.

Then from what Maou said, Dullahan deduced that something might have happened to Chiho, and it suddenly became determined, because he was the only one who could send Maou to Chiho, he must risk his life to finish this mission. Maou broke a few traffic rules one after another and encountered a red light, the police were shouting as well, but he could not stop. As a result, Dullahan suddenly felt that he was flying. Even though he only flew for three seconds, it was something which went against the laws of the universe. He was unharmed after landing, Maou continued to cycle forward while covered in sweat, and praised Dullahan "As expected from the prized mount of the Demon King."

After more than 10 minutes, they finally reached the bottom of Tokyo Metropolian building, discovering Sariel's barrier, Maou rode inside after breaking the barrier, saying "Dullahan, I am counting on you on the return trip as well" continuing with his rush towards the high rise building. At this moment, in Dullahan's narrower field of vision because of the broken front headlight, Suzuno appeared with a huge hammer. At that moment, Dullahan decided to step forward bravely, helping Maou block the huge hammer. When his whole body broke apart, only one wish was left in his heart.

Going straight to the beginning of Volume 3, Suzuno bought a new bicycle to compensate Maou, Maou took off the reflective panel from Dullahan and installed it on the new bicycle. The moment he stuck it on, the new bicycle saw the memories of Dullahan, it was Maou groaning about why Dullahan could not be fixed. The new bicycle knew that the old bicycle was broken by Suzuno, and was surprised why it was Suzuno who bought him. At that time, Maou still missed Dullahan very much, and with his identity as Demon King, he was very grateful that Dullahan helped him rush over to save Chiho and Emi. The memories in the reflective panel caused the new bicycle to know about the main characters, and he also knew that Dullahan's last wish (regret) was that he was unable to send Maou home. Then the new bicycle was named as Dullahan II, and he decided to devote his heart and body to fulfil the wishes of his master.

END

Thoughts

When Dullahan broke, I felt more sad than I should.

It was funny to know that Dullahan could actually objectively analyse the difference between a man and a high school girl riding on him lol.

[qqueenofhades]

Hi there. I've been scrolling through your "school stuff" tag but thought I'd ask directly - how did you find the transition to actually moving outside of the U.S. for your PhD? I'm looking at something similar and I'm wondering about your experience with the logistics (finding somewhere to live, visa, etc!). Thanks in advance, and congrats on being a doctor!

Oh lord. Why would you do that to yourself? I feel like that tag is mostly just intense kvetching, bogglingly obscure nitpicking complaints, and existential despair, and/or yelling at various institutions and/or people who could not do their god damn jobs. If you have read that and still actually want my advice, I salute you. I’m presuming you’re asking in regard to the UK, since it’s the only experience I can speak on, so hopefully that’s applicable?

In my case, I studied in the UK for a year as an undergraduate, at Oxford, so I was already familiar with the process (at least somewhat) when it came time to do it again for the PhD. Upfront, we must acknowledge the ugly deformed rabid elephant in the room that is Brexit, and the idiotic reform of UK immigration policy currently ongoing. Long story short, they seem to think they can function without low-skilled migration, that the domestic UK workforce will just happily lark off to do the jobs that working-class EU migrants have been doing, that this won’t totally bomb-crater the NHS, that they can run a country by basically only allowing in PhDs in STEM making over £30,000 a year, etc… so yes, this is a complete joke of an immigration policy and it’s what happens when you elect floppy haired xenophobic douchewads and their nightmare party as prime minister! ANYWAY, they’re introducing a points-based system from 2021, which may not affect you for an application under Tier 4, but UK immigration policy is going to have a lot of very stupid reforms and you’ll want to keep on top of those. If you have an offer in hand from a UK university, it is made somewhat easier, but you’ll still need to budget for processing costs, an NHS subsidy paid in for every year you will be there (something like $300/year), and a trip to a UK visa office to have your fingerprints and biometric information taken. If you don’t live near one, that will be travel expenses and so forth. You then have a temporary visa issued for first entry into the country, and a Biometric Residence Permit which you pick up at your university.

That, at least, was the process the last time I applied for a student visa, and it may all have changed by the time you do it. As noted, there are a lot of upfront visa costs, so you’ll want to be aware of those. You need a number of supporting documents, including offer of study, proof of income or ability to financially support yourself (since most Tier 4 visas either don’t let you work or only work a limited number of hours), proof of English proficiency (as a native English speaker/person from an English-speaking country, you won’t need this), and so on. You can’t start the process before you have the offer, but you’ll want to start it as soon as possible afterward, because it can take several months, and obviously needs to be done before you can travel. You will also want to open a UK bank account as soon as you arrive, which can be done once you have your residential address and a certificate from the student services office at your university verifying that you are in fact a student there. It’s pretty difficult to pay out of non-UK accounts, at least for monthly/recurring transactions, and there are international fees. You will also want a UK phone. I still have my UK phone/phone number despite my current hiatus in America, since most carriers offer free or low-cost roaming in Europe (though subject to change with EU trade negotiations), which is nice. I pay only a little extra to have Global Roaming in North America, so I can still use my phone as if I’m in the UK. If you’re planning to be traveling, this is a nice perk to have.

As far as finding programs goes, I’m sure I don’t need to give you advice on what you’re interested in and where you’re looking. Obviously, universities in the UK are grouped as “Oxford and Cambridge” and “everyone else,” though there are also rankings within those. I have been at both of these; Oxford as an undergrad, and then I did my PhD at a large public university in the North that ranks within the top 10 in the UK. The North will be much lower, living-cost wise (actually, if you can swing it, just… don’t do it in London, the cost of living in London is out of control. Of course, if the program you really have your heart set on is in London, then go for it, but just be aware of what you’re getting into). It’s also a rule of thumb that you don’t go anywhere for a PhD unless they’re paying you. Don’t self-fund a PhD, it’s just too expensive, and any decent university will give you some kind of financial stipend. I had a scholarship that covered three years of full tuition at international rate, which was good, though I had to take out some living-cost loans. So if you’re trying to decide between two programs that have both accepted you, a situation I was also lucky enough to be in, it sounds crass, but: take the money. One university had already offered me the tuition/scholarship, while the other had accepted me but wasn’t sure about funding. So I took the one that paid the scholarship. You need every penny you can get. You will be comically, absurdly, unbelievably broke as a graduate student. I was looking back on it like “wow I really lived for four years on BUTTFUCK NOTHING.” It is not for the faint of heart; you will have financial stress along with academic pressure, and while I was lucky enough to have generous friends and family contributing to my living costs, I still barely scraped through. It is something you should be aware of.

I don’t know if you’ve studied in the UK system before (I’m assuming not), but the structure for a PhD is much less determined than in the American system. It will also vary from university to university, so it’s worth establishing contact with a potential faculty supervisor to ask questions and refine your project proposal. I made contact with my eventual supervisor at my PhD university before I actually applied there; I gave him my (much too broad and pretty unrefined) project proposal and what I was interested in, and he helped me tailor it into something that could be done in a feasible time frame and which would make use of his expertise and contribute to the field. Whatever you’re thinking about pitching as a thesis topic, you probably need to make it more specific. I don’t know what field you’re in; I’m a humanities/history person, obviously, so the rule always seems to be WRITE MORE, INFIDEL. But the point is, the UK system has much less structured time, and basically relies on you to have the self-motivation to go out and conduct the research and write it up, and if you’re someone more used to rigid requirements and classes and so forth, you might find it a little hands-off. If you’re like me and can just be set loose in your field of interest and do your own thing, you’ll like it. I feel like anyone who is serious enough about their subject to want to do a PhD has to be primarily self-motivating, but some people function better with clear guidelines, and those are not always forthcoming. I can’t count the number of times I wished my supervisors would just TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK TO DO, but they usually highlighted something and had me work to figure out how exactly to fix it. They weren’t negligent or uncaring or unsupportive, and the project became much better as a result, but yes, it’s on you to do, and it can again be frustrating.

As far as living, I didn’t try to rent a flat from afar, sight unseen, in my first year. I just registered for postgraduate campus housing, and lived with four predictably horribly messy roommates (why???!) before I managed to escape and rent a private flat for the next three years. You will need a guarantor with a UK address (i.e. not your parents in America) to sign on the lease agreement, especially if you fall below a certain income threshold, and go through the usual background checking and approval. If you want to have the place to yourself, it will be, as noted, much cheaper to find something you can afford in the North and not-London in general, though southern England and the London commuter belt will all be expensive. If you’re okay living with roommates, or you make friends during your program, it might work to room together and share costs, but I am a pathological introvert and don’t like people, so I lived by myself. 

Anyway. Right now, I am in the second round of applications for a Big Deal UK postdoctoral award, which would be for three years starting this fall if I got it, at another high-ranking large public university in the south of England. (So yes, everything that I just said about how much it costs to live in London/London suburbs is me playing myself). I would be applying for a Tier 2 visa (i.e. the permanent/settlement track/full-time work visa) if I got this, which would be another barrel of laughs and different requirements from a Tier 4. That is definitely unhatched chickens which we can’t count yet, as this is a highly competitive/prestigious award and there is absolutely no guarantee that I would get it, but it would mean that I would go through the international moving/visa application process for a third time, so I would once again become too unfortunately familiar with whatever bullshittery is happening now. Le sigh.

I don’t know if any of that is helpful; hopefully so. Let me know if you have more questions, and good luck.

[golittlehollywood]

Here are some words - my words and thoughts on the current situation, the protests, the worldwide fight to end racism.

Let's go back in time when villages were small, tiny in comparison with the cities and villages we live in today, a time when no one and later only a few people could read and write and everyone needed to hunt to survive. It doesn't matter if I tell you about the Neanderthals or people living in the Middle Ages, what I want to point out works both ways. Centuries ago people had to depend on village communities. It was all they had and all that was safe. Everything familiar was good, which means that everything unknown, strangers and foreigners were seen as a danger. They were robbers, burnt down villages, took things etcetera etcetera. In a nutshell, prejudices were used as a defence.

  However, times have changed, we have changed. The world isn't the big scary beast it used to be anymore. There is no land to explore and seize no more, simply because it's all been done. We've been through it. There is nothing to defend. And still, prejudices turned into racism.

  I hope you understand what I mean. Please don't be like "what are you driving at?" Here it comes. Although times have changed and most of the human race accepts each other, doesn't believe foreigners take away jobs, rob the white, and kill everyone coming in their way, there are a few who hang on to these stereotypes and accusations.

 "Why" you may ask. "This all is so long ago, how are there still people who think like this?" I have been asking myself these questions too. Frankly, I am not sure why. All I can offer you is a fragment of a notion. You know how each gender (if we only think about male and female) has been associated with its own colour, right. Blue for boys and pink for girls. Somehow - and I am well aware that it is not as radical as it used to be, the structure is still within us. It is true, the human race has become more gender-sensitive but it is still considered weird to see a man wearing a skirt or a woman not dressing according to her stereotype. It's a long way of changing people's minds because it’s been like this for the past decades and we've come a long way. Unfortunately, no one can change what’s been taught and lived for centuries in a couple of years. That’s just not how it works, even if I wish it was.   

  My little explanation about gender stereotypes and being more sensitive can be adapted to racism. It is technically the same; it’s been around for ages and we have to accept that it will not disappear in a week or a month. Right now we can’t expect change but we can expect protests and education. This is why I personally think the current situation is a huge step towards ending racism. Whether there are posts online about all the black people who have been murdered or what to do, protests or riots all around the world, people promoting black businesses, authors, books and films/documentaries. I do not support every action that is taken, I do not approve of burning down police stations. Then again, you can’t attack a Malcolm and expect a Martin reaction. I understand the anger of black people and those who are standing behind them. If you are not angry, you are not paying attention. Murdering black people is a crime against humanity. It’s genocide.

  “Certain conditions continue to exist in our society, which must be condemned as vigorously as we condemn riots. But in the final analysis, a riot is the language of the unheard. And what is it that America has failed to hear? It has failed to hear that the plight of the Negro poor has worsened over the last few years. It has failed to hear that the promises of freedom and justice have not been met. And it has failed to hear that large segments of white society are more concerned about tranquility and the status quo than about justice, equality and humanity. And so in a real sense, our nation’s summers of riots are caused by our nation’s winters of delay. And as long as America postpones justice, we stand in the position of having these recurrences of violence and riots over and over again. Social justice and progress are the absolute guarantors of riot prevention”. Martin Luther King said this years ago and his words did not lose their meaning over time. Au contraire. They are as important as on the day he spoke them. A riot is the language of the unheard. It is up to us to change it, we are the ones who can be heard, the ones who can be loud enough to not be unheard anymore. Use your voice, protest, demonstrate against injustice, talk about it, talk about racism with your children, educate them and yourself, support black people and businesses. 

  Don’t be silent.

[angelicthor]

an explanation

ok so since about new year? maybe longer i really can’t remember tbh, i’ve not being doing so well with my mental health - i have depression and its been getting worse over these last few months. 

i don’t know whether it was caused by the stress of my final year or just made worse by it or maybe both idk, but it wasn’t an easy year and i nearly ended up failing my final exams because of it. luckily i managed to graduate, god only knows how because i did god awful but anyway it was done! 

i graduated in june/july? one of them and then was told by my dad that i had to get a job and move out by the end of august at the latest. i did the math an i would have needed £1k alone in just deposits for a place to rent (spare change i didn’t have) and i’d need a guarantor given the fact that i dont have a credit score and my dad had just lost his job it was next to impossible.

put all this on top of the fact that i was trying to figure out my next move in life career wise and the job market where i currently live is slim to put it mildly. see dad was moving in with his fiance in another city and i was planning on staying where i currently live because i was going to stay on to do a masters course here because whilst there is much to be desired from my city i actually really loved my uni

but anyway, he was moving and i needed to go to - even if i managed to land a job there was no way in hell i could have afforded the house we were living in. 

he went behind my back to call my mum who i hadn’t spoken to in 5 years to ask her if i could stay there. i hadn’t spoken to her since roughly a year after she and my dad split - i know the world loves to paint mothers as can do not wrong but its utter horse shit. no one in my life has ever made me feel as god awful as she had. everything was always my fault including dad leaving - i drove him away apparently, it had nothing to do with the fact that she was abusive - she’d come into my room late at night when i was asleep (she has a drinking problem that she will never acknowledge) and just start screaming at me. 

at the worst points in our relationship (it had been rocky since i was 12/13 and only got worse as the years went on) i was downright suicidal. but because there was never any physical marks - though i honestly wouldn’t put it past her, the threat of violence has always been there - i kinda of convinced myself that i exaggerated my memories? that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed and that i was as equally responsible as she was. plus i didn’t help that people never believed me, i told so many people, my dad included that she scared me and i was just laughed at and called ridiculous 

couple that with the fact that everyone seemed convinced she had changed although no one in my family had spoken to her i agreed to meet her. the first two meetings were ok, the third i caught her slipping into her old habits and the forth she was exactly the same as i remembered her. 

unfortunately it was too late, i had to be gone in a week and there really was no where else for me to go. i moved in and no more than a day later i was planning on moving out.

easier said than done but im trying to remain positive because i know its going to be harder than last time, i’m quite literally all alone now, my family have all moved from the area and the few friends i do have all have lives of their own. 

the reason updates and general presence is lacking on here, as much as i would love to write i honestly feel like im missing part of myself right now, is because im not allowed. i can’t be in the house during the day so i wake up and do whatever i have to do, washing cleaning typical chores ya know and then i have to be out of the house by 1:30pm because thats when she comes home - i spend the day doing pointless stuff because i have to just not be there (which doesn’t help when you need to apply for jobs) and when i get in im not allowed to do my own thing i.e. write, i have to sit with her and do whatever shes doing regardless of whether i like it or not. i honestly feel more like a lap dog than a person at this point ya know? like i dread coming home and i prepare myself for this personna that i have to put on in order to please her and im honestly so tired from it all. 

and the kicker is that im doing all this and it still isn’t enough to please her, im spending too much time at home (still?) and at the same time too much time out of the house, she doesn’t like my friends, or my clothes or my hair, or all of my interests are childish and stupid, shes made at me for not wanting a job that pays ridiculous amounts, she hates the fact that i don’t like expensive things because all she cares about it image but i refuse to break myself apart and mold myself into someone new to please someone that i honestly don’t even think is a nice person. 

i can’t afford to move out before the new year now but i have job interviews lined up (fingers and toes all crossed) and i’m hoping to try and fine a new job out of the area and somewhere new in the new year, there really is nothing left for me here and i am in desperate need of a fresh start.

so yeah this is it, definitely not where i saw myself at 22 - honestly in shock im right back in the one place in my life i never wanted to return to - but im staying hopeful, one day im gonna look back and be able to say that i got myself through this, i just have to hold out.

[sincerelybillie]

“oh, you must be so proud”

i pulled into the promenade towers’ parking garage, using the time until the parking attendant walked over to me, to engage in a staring contest with a  woman who very critically wondered what i was doing in her neck of the woods. she was sitting with a man at a table outside of the cafe of the shopping center that was connected to the complex. they were wearing matching tennis outfits. 

“if only she knew what her boyfriend was doing in the neck of my woods,” spoke Garnet, a specter that sometimes rides shotgun with me. i lost the staring contest by turning to look at her. 

“the guy sitting across from her?” i looked again to see that the woman had turned to him. she aggressively flipped her blonde hair over one shoulder and crossed her arms, as he retreated into his seat. Garnet nodded. i placed my forehead on the steering wheel. “fuck...”

when i sat back up, the parking attendant was smiling at me, asking with his eyes, “long day?” i greeted him, in a manner that a polite and normal person would. the gate lifted, i somehow crammed my large sports car into my narrow parking spot, and Garnet and i walked up to my studio. 

the leasing agent greeted us, me with a warm smile, and i noticed her with who i assumed to be a new tenant heading towards the same elevator as me. i decided then to take the stairs, but seeing as how i lived on the 14th floor and Garnet was already yanking me to the elevator, i inevitably ended up with the three of them. the tenant was a man about my height, who looked to be in his early 30′s but carried the sadness of someone who lived much longer and failed to fill it with things that made him happy. but whatever he spent that time doing, it afforded him this place. 

the leasing agent, Theresa, introduced us, and i wish she hadn’t. his name was Frank Gennaro, he was moving in today after living on the east coast his whole life, and he was single. Garnet perked up and looked at me, and i pretended not to notice her, which was important. because normal people weren’t supposed to notice her. 

as we ascended stories, i began to worry Frank was going to be occupying the vacant studio on my floor, the one i shared a wall with. 

Theresa does this thing where she likes to double as a matchmaker so her workday can involve something other than telling people about the unreasonable fees that make living here unattainable for the average american.

“if there’s anything i haven’t shown you or told you or answered questions about, i’m sure this wonderful lady here can help you,” Theresa said, rubbing my arm affectionately. i forced an uncomfortable smile, trying to make it look like the kind a wonderful lady would give someone. i got out first when the elevator dinged. i winced when i realized Theresa was, in fact, unlocking the apartment next door. i heard a whoosh sound and already knew Garnet was gone. the door locked behind them, and i sighed, entering my place.

i walked to the edge of my less-than-400 square foot studio and stepped into my solarium, watching the afternoon ubers and commuters and metro buses below. every time i’m up here, it feels like i’m levitating above the city. if i was more of a classist, it might actually make me feel like i’m better than everyone down there, better than the girl who was giving me death glare even though Garnet slept with her boyfriend and didn’t let me know. 

speaking of the devil, just a moment later, she phased through the wall and rushed up behind me, startling me. she laughed, knowing i had plenty of thoughts of the window somehow shattering and me plummeting to my death from the 14-story fall. i know Garnet had compulsive thoughts about pushing me, too. 

“he’s definitely single,” Garnet confirmed, not that i was curious. i checked my phone, noticing a missed call from my dad. he probably wanted me to meet some relatives for dinner in la habra, mention my degree or job or the things he can find it in his heart to be proud of me for. i texted him an apology and said i wasn’t feeling well. 

and it wasn’t a lie. i hadn’t been feeling well for awhile. Garnet had become tangible, started body snatching, and even killing people. i couldn’t really go anywhere without her, and it was hard to explain my current living situation without delving into the madness of it all. but maybe my dad could finally brag to people that i got into stanford, as long as he omitted it was the psychiatric hospital. 

it might also be hard to explain that my “savings account money” that allowed me to apply for the promenade without a guarantor was money Garnet phased into a federal bank for. and i, in true cliche scandal form, got the highest paying entry level job one could find in this industry, through blackmail via information that Garnet retrieved. and that since the new year began, i don’t remember the people i have slept with or that i have slept with them because Garnet only tells me weeks after it happens because she gets a twisted kick out of watching me bump into my, her hook ups. 

Garnet was a curse, but she got other people’s parents to tell my father, “oh, you must be so proud” in regards to me. so, in a way, i was indebted to her, even if i didn’t ask for or agree with the ways she showed up in my life. she was supportive and destructive at the same time, so it was hard to really figure out how i felt about her. the same can be said about many parents. 

that night, i decided to clear my head and go to the jacuzzi by the south tower because it was the less popular one and therefore the one where i could have more time and space to myself. it was only less popular because the Rich Old Business Men lived in many of the south tower condos, and most young tenants know not to go to their jacuzzi at night, lest we want an uncomfortable encounter with someone who is more than likely a registered Republican. 

i took my chances because i wanted to be alone and it was 1am on a tuesday night, so the Rich Old Business Men were probably too sleepy to sexually assault a neighbour. this was naive, and as if i wouldn’t already be forced to assume responsibility for the actions of a repulsive, entitled but ultimately powerful magnate...i would be actually a little at fault for what happened tonight. 

i don’t really wear bikinis out in public because it’s out of character and style for me. i typically dress like a 19 year old boy. a 19 year old boy interning at a late night talk show if i’m being business casual. when i do wear them, people come to the realization that i have long legs and tits, parts of me other people have always liked more than i ever got to. 

i sank into the jacuzzi’s bubbling water, needing my muscles to relax after a long day at work and dealing with the awkward aftermaths of anything Garnet had been a part of. but i would be lying if i said my body’s tension wasn’t partially caused by the fact that i saw the sliding doors of the fitness center open and a mysterious-looking man step outside. he began walking alongside the pool, towards me. i wanted to hide, like an alligator in swamp waters, only i felt less like the predator and more like the prey. i didn’t know if i would be able to do anything if the man was to suddenly join me in the hot tub, if i was already this scared from this far away. the offense was more Garnet’s speed. and the one time i think i actually needed her, she was nowhere to be found. 

the man came closer, and underneath the light, i finally saw that it was Frank. 

“hey,” he greeted. 

“hi,” i said, slowly lifting my body back up. i noticed his large gym bag, dangling from his right hand. in an attempt to move the conversation to its cordial end, i told him, “you know, everyone gets their own locker in the fitness center, so you don’t have to lug your gym stuff back and forth from your apartment.” i gestured back to the center. 

“i know,” he said, placing the bag down. my heart started racing to keep up with the thoughts rushing to my head, that something bad was about to happen to me. i noticed him staring at my chest, and if i retreated back into the water, he’d know he scared me. if i got out and ran, that only said it louder. he reached into his bag. 

“what are you -” i began to ask, but felt too paralyzed to finish because did i even want to know? was he actually going to tell me, “i’m just gonna reach into my bag and grab the thing i’m going to kill you with. i mean, look at me, i’m obviously too sad to care about the consequences. and your death might make me feel like i had control over something in my life.” no, he wasn’t going to say that.

i sat up abruptly, as he held a type of flashlight at me and pointed it at my chest. i flinched, blinded by the brightness and looked down, squinting at whatever he was pointing at.

there was a massive hole in my sternum. i looked up, horrified and confused. i began breathing heavily, scooting back into my corner of the jacuzzi and scrambling up and out of it. 

“what the fuck is that?! what did you do?!”

Frank turned the light off, placed it back in his bag, and pulled out a small cylindrical container i can only describe as something you’d see in Ghostbusters. it looked like the vacuum cartridge to suck ghosts into, which was fitting, because as Frank rotated the container, i saw a gaseous, flailing, inaudibly screaming Garnet inside. 

i looked up at Frank, reaching for my towel and my grip on reality, which was already a bit fuzzy, considering Garnet had been a part of it. and now, Ghost Hunter Frank was, too. he placed the container back in his bag and stood up. i did, too. this lighting really didn’t help his whole dark eye circles, pale skin and freckles combination situation. he looked, quite literally, like he had just seen a ghost.

“i can explain everything to you tomorrow. meet me at the cafe at 10,” he said, before walking away, with both a calmness and an exhaustion i have never seen.

i stood in my towel, calling after him, angry that he got to see me in two of the most vulnerable states i could be found in, “what the fuck am i supposed to do now?” 

he stopped and turned around. i tried to hold my anger, but i was definitely intimidated. 

“get some sleep. i imagine you haven’t been able to do that for awhile now.” 

Garnet orchestrated some intense dreams and messed with the thermostat in the middle of the night enough times for me to easily agree that Frank’s statement was true. i haven’t slept properly in ages. but it was the first time in awhile that i was going to go to bed without her presence. 

and ironically, the thought of her absence and what i just saw and questions about Frank had kept me up all night. i rolled over in bed all night, occasionally glancing at the solarium, seeing more lights turn off in the apartment buildings across the street. i watched the sun come up. 

when 10am rolled around, so did i, turning the corner to the cafe when and where we said we would meet. Garnet still apparently haunted me because i walked right into the chest of that blonde woman’s boyfriend. 

“hey!” he said, annoyed at first and then adjusting his facial expression when he noticed it was me. “hey...” he said again, and then once more when he asked if we could talk. 

“i can’t, i’m actually meeting someone,” i said, conveniently being able to gesture at Frank, who was watching us from the same table the matching tennis outfit couple had been at just yesterday. 

he looked back at Frank and chuckled resentfully when he turned to face me again. “yeah? and you’re gonna fuck around with him, too?” he asked, his demeanor suddenly shifting back to irritation. i paused.

what the fuck. he was just as guilty as, if not more than, me, Garnet for cheating on his girlfriend. i didn’t know who he was, much less that he had an uppity, classist, racist girlfriend who thinks every person of colour at the promenade is “the help” and treats the actual staff at the complex even worse. 

from what i’ve seen, she was a bad emotional investment to begin with and if he wanted to be with someone else (or just not her), he should have had the decency to break up with her. Garnet might’ve known he wasn’t single, but i wasn’t responsible for his relationship. or Garnet. and that was especially true because she was locked away in a goddamn vacuum sealed container and i was still processing that. 

so, “fuck you, man”, i said, and walked over to Frank. 

annoyed by the double standards of my previous male encounter, my hostile energy translated to my interaction with Frank. “where’s Garnet?” i asked with tautness, suddenly feeling protective of her. so what if she was selfish, reckless, and mean? she was still a person. or at least, she was once. right? what are the laws or ethics around holding captive someone who disobeys the laws of physics...

“she’s still where she was the last time you saw her,” he said. “do you want coffee?”

he was speaking so calmly. like, this was casual conversation had between endearing neighbours. “i need answers,” i said, growing agitated. “what was that last night?” 

the boyfriend walked past as i asked that and i felt his rays of slut-shaming shooting at me. and speaking of rays, there was that light Frank had shined on me that looked like i got vaporized. “and now, there’s a giant fucking hole in my chest?”

“that’s what happens when you fuck around with people who are taken,” muttered the blonde woman, who had apparently been meeting up with her man just one table over. no matching outfits this time. 

“eavesdropping? really? are either of you capable of actually focusing on your own relationship?” i snapped.

“hey,” Frank whispered, trying to lasso my attention and temper. 

“what was your plan just two minutes ago?” i asked the boyfriend. “to chat with me real quick about how you can’t stop thinking about that night before patching things up with your girlfriend who, by the way, has a lot of misdirected rage?” they didn’t say anything, and i turned back to face Frank, who was looking down, either embarrassed for me or by me. 

“oh, shut up,” i told him. he shook his head. 

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you’re not saying anything helpful at all,” i argued.

“that’s because you barely let me get a word in,” he said, sternly. i exhaled. 

“i didn’t do anything. all of the bad shit that gets associated with me, the guy and his girlfriend and the whole fucking around thing. that wasn’t me. it was Garnet, and -” 

“i know. i know it’s not you, but it’s...kind of you.” he cleared his throat, lowering his voice. “i know you might think Garnet is just some ghost who picked you for some reason to be the subject or vehicle of all of her mayhem, but she’s more than that.”

“what do you mean?” 

“she’s a manifestation of every negative thought you’ve had, every impulse you wanted to act on. it’s really rare for them to have real-life consequences of this magnitude, much less actually appear in tangible or intangible form whenever they want. but that’s where i come in.”  

“...as a ghostbuster?” 

“as an exterminator. think of Garnet as an infestation of bad thoughts. she’s a part of you, but a part of you that has gotten stronger with your built up resentment or anger. you have to remove her, like a tumor before she eventually kills the host and takes over completely. like, when termites start weakening the foundation of a home -”

“i get the metaphor,” i interrupted, taken aback by the information and how quickly and how much Frank suddenly started talking. 

“but that’s what the hole is; the stronger she gets, the closer she becomes to having a permanent physical form, while you start dissolving.” 

i sat back, exhaling deeply. after a moment, i asked, “so, you really moved in next to me just to to catch her? how did you know she was here?” 

“actually, that was a wild coincidence. i retired and moved out here as a getaway, maybe do freelance engineering work, but i forgot i didn’t uninstall the software on my watch that detects paranormal energy. when you got in the elevator, i had gotten an alert. and then i got another one when Theresa was in my apartment.”

“i think the most unbelievable part of that story is that anyone could possibly retire in their 30′s...” 

“i’m 47,” he corrected me. “but thank you.”  

“being able to retire at 47 is still unrealistic,” i said, diverting my own attention from his appearance and accidentally flattering it.

“i was the only one doing this work in my area for a long time, so the demand got kind of crazy and when you’re the best bet to call every single time -”

 "you must be so proud,” i teased at his humble-brag, attempting to stifle my own heightening panic. Frank sighed as well, sounding a different kind of exhausted. “so, why didn’t you think Theresa was the source of the paranormal whatever, if your watch beeped whenever you were around her?” i asked. 

“if it was Theresa, then she’s the physical manifestation of kindness and hospitality. i mean, if there’s a ghost running around helping people...i don’t feel the need to intervene. Garnet’s energy was volatile...dangerous. if you let her get any worse, she could do some serious damage.”

i wanted to defend myself and say i wasn’t “letting” her do anything, but she had shoved a man off a cliff this past summer and when the local news station reported it as a whitewater rafting accident, she was laughing at the tv screen. like she was proud of herself for getting away with it and mocking the reporters for not being as smart as her. and i didn’t even scold her. i wanted to believe that maybe the guy was awful in his own way, so the scales were balanced. and maybe that reaction made me just as horrible as Garnet. Garnet had been an out-of-control beast of a child that i didn’t even try to discipline because a part of me felt like everything she did was sort of justified. if she came from me, from the worst parts of me, that were angry and hurt, i understood her. and in a way, i was grieving the loss of her. i had even been a little jealous of her for getting to exist on her own terms. she got to act on everything that she felt in ways i couldn’t and didn’t. 

i wanted to see her as a robin hood, but maybe i was idealizing a monster because it was easier than actually growing up and being accountable for my own responses to all the pain in my life. 

Frank caught me deep in thought, puncturing the space between us with a “are you going to be okay?” 

“i don’t know,” i said after a moment. and it might have been the most honest thing i had said in years. 

TEN YEARS LATER

Faith’s kindergarten teacher opens the door at dismissal, and kids shuffle over to their parents and/or guardians. mine toddles over with her unicorn backpack, face full of freckles, and bouncy curls. she’s the most precious thing i’ve ever seen in my entire life, and i feel this way every time i look at her. just before i hold my hand out to grab hers, her teacher turns to me. 

“oh, Mrs. Gennaro!” she chirps, and i match her energy. 

“hiiiii,” i respond. 

“i just wanted to say you know, that Faith was such a great helper today! i really appreciate how eager she is to make sure the classroom is organized.”

“oh, well, that’s great to hear,” i laugh. “she’s really meticulous about things being in order at home, too, actually. makes life a lot easier for me.” her teacher’s smile dissolved slightly.

“oh, you must be so proud. and well, i actually wanted to discuss that a little more with you if you ever have time.” 

“what do you mean? is something wrong?” i asked. the teacher was intermittently saying goodbye to other students and the people picking them up while trying to pacify my increasing impatience. finally, when they all left (and by now, Faith was waiting for me at the swings), the teacher looked at me with the concern only an educator who is about to suggest counseling possesses. 

“Faith’s attention to detail is definitely a strong suit, but she is exhibiting behaviour that can be symptomatic of obsessive compulsive disorder,” she told me.

“you’re saying my kid has OCD?” i asked, crossing my arms at her bold suggestion. “just because a five year old is more organized than most adults does not mean something’s going on with her head and we can start throwing around psychological evaluations.” 

“i’m not diagnosing her by any means, but i do double as the school’s therapist and i do know the signs. she is very particular about the way she wants things placed or the order art materials and books are in. she counts the steps from the playground to her carpet square. and if it’s not to her liking, she lashes out or repeats things and moves things around. and if someone gets in her way or rushes her, she has started screaming at them. i’m worried it will impact her ability to be around other students and focus in class.” 

most kids want things done their way and will throw a fit every now and then, nobody’s perfect. i didn’t spoil her and nobody yelled in our household, so wherever she picked it up was either A. from some other child at the school who figured out screaming equals appeasement served up by weak and/or tired adults or B. it was normal childlike behaviour that shouldn’t be read into so much.

as i was thinking this, i looked again at Faith while she swung on the swingset, kicking her feet up in the air and giggling, alongside another girl. i hadn’t noticed the other student before, but she looked remarkably familiar. Faith waved at me, and i waved back smiling. the other girl joined, continuing to wave even after Faith put her hand down. 

“well, she seems to be getting along just fine with her friend,” i noted. the teacher looked over to the playground and back at me, puzzled by my statement. i followed her eyes and saw Faith swinging alone. 

“nevertheless, call me if you’d ever like to discuss how we can both best support her in class,” her teacher offered, probably deciding i needed counseling, too, or something more intensive. i called Faith over, and as we headed to the car, my heart dropped. 

“i call shotgun,” spoke Garnet, already sitting in the front passenger seat. behind her, in a levitating booster seat was the girl i had seen swinging next to Faith just moments ago. 

i pulled out my phone to call Frank, but my hands were trembling. i dropped my phone because i was shaking so hard. Faith picked it up.

“there’s lots of calls from Daddy,” she told me. i looked at my phone and saw four missed calls and about a bunch of text messages. 

“Call me back, EMERGENCY”

“Storage unit got broken into, someone has the container” 

“CALL ME BACK”

“DO NOT COME HOME, MEET ME AT MY OFFICE WHEN YOU PICK UP FAITH”

“ARE YOU OKAY? DO YOU HAVE FAITH?”

“COME TO MY OFFICE ASAP”

Garnet smirked at me as i read Frank’s texts. “well? do you have faith?” she asked, and i could see her holding her in her corny laughter. time (and the vacuum sealed container) hadn’t been kind to her. her makeup was smudged, her lips were chapped, and she had lost a lot of (metaphysical) weight. 

“Mommy?” Faith asked, as i stared into the backseat of the car. the other girl had started inaudibly screaming from inside, bashing her head against the window and swinging her hands around violently, her tiny fists thudding against the glass. i gasped, stepping back and felt Faith tugging on my shirt, getting scared as well. “who is that?”

“you can see them?” i asked. 

“that girl’s in my class. and that’s her mom. she said she was your old friend.” i swallowed the knot in my throat. “are we giving them a ride?” 

“no,” i answered. 

“why is she acting like that?” Faith asked, as the other girl only got more violent, rabid almost. 

“i don’t know. we need to get to your father.” 

Garnet appeared next to me, holding the hand of her own daughter, who had suddenly calmed down. 

“race you there,” she challenged. “your kid seems smart.” i looked down at Faith, gripping her hand tighter and making sure she was still there, still mine, still safe. “you must be so proud,” Garnet whispered before disappearing.