#but make no mistake. what is happening in the levant is (and HAS been) an attempt at genocide by the israeli state

[priafey]

“Yes, it would be worthwhile to study clinically, in detail, the steps taken by Hitler and Hitlerism and to reveal to the very distinguished, very humanistic, very Christian bourgeois of the twentieth century that without his being aware of it, he has a Hitler inside him, that Hitler inhabits him, that Hitler is his demon, that if he rails against him, he is being inconsistent and that, at bottom, what he cannot forgive Hitler for is not crime in itself, the crime against man, it is not the humiliation of man as such, it is the crime against the white man, the humiliation of the white man, and the fact that he applied to Europe colonialist procedures which until then had been reserved exclusively for the Arabs of Algeria, the coolies of India, and the blacks of Africa.”

– Aimé Césaire, Discourse on Colonialism

[teecupangel]

pardon me if I am insensible with cold medicine but consider

in the thing I suggested where Desmond replaces Altaïr and ends up in Malik's arms as he grieves growing in place of (what he considers to be) a better man

imagine that

Altaïr

ends up reborn as Robert de Sablé

as in, Altaïr fully remembers his life, how it went without Desmond's interference

and then found himself being reborn as an enemy to the assassins

of course, when he gets to the Levant and learns there's still an eagle of masyaf, he has to assume that it's Robert, switched with him at birth

he can't say why this has happened, but he does know that he made mistakes in his first life, mistakes he is trying to rectify as a member of the Templar order

but of course he has to be wary of "Altaïr" aka Robert and whatever he's planning

could this all be an incredibly long game to get the Apple of Eden?

cue a LOT of Altaïr being sneaky and suspicious ans trying to strategize as Robert (and of course promoting Maria in the organization as soon as he could without tarnishing her reputation)

And Deamond just like wow i don't remember Robert being such a shifty fuck before, weird

Guess Altaïr just glossed over a lot of that in favor of fights

The Desmond replaced Altaïr comment from @twitcherpated (that’s in this post):

in the same vein as the other sad ideas I've been pitching, consider: Desmond gets reborn, Yew Branches style, not as someone in Altaïr's orbit but as Altaïr himself. He's guilty and depressed about replacing a man he can't live up to, but at least he takes comfort in Malik being around. He always liked him in Altaïr's memories, and now he has a chance to get close to him, spend time with him, think about him when he should be training--oh no.

One of the problems I think Altaïr would face with being reborn as Robert is his relationship with Maria. Maria doesn’t strike me as the type of person who would have a romantic relationship with her boss, she’s too much of an honorable person to do something like that. Their relationship would be strictly professional and Altaïr would forever miss his dear wife, of course, but he would know that the Maria who is working for him isn’t his wife.

Thinking she is would sully the memories of his wife and will be a great disservice to the Maria he has with him right now.

Whether they do get past that wall between them though is another question altogether.

The reason why I focused on this is because you wished for Maria to rise up the ranks and Altaïr would want that for her. He needs an ally he can trust completely in this den of snakes and he believes that Maria deserves recognition for her strength and chivalry.

BUT this is the 12th century and the Crusaders weren’t exactly known for being… ‘open-minded’ on this kind of thing.

The Crusaders would probably whisper behind their back how she slept her way to the top and other unflattering things about her. They’d ignore it, of course, but that meant that there will be many who would oppose Altaïr’s plans for reformation just because of his ‘treatment’ of Maria.

But the Templar Order though… now that’s another story. Altaïr taking on the mantle of the Grand Master of the Templar Order (shudder) would mean he has the chance of making the Templars more in line with de la Serre’s Templar faction in Unity and Maria will be his second in command. Those who are part of the Templar Order would definitely respect her.

As for Desmond…

Well…

Sure, Desmond is confused by Robert!Altaïr being a shifty fuck but just imagine Altaïr’s own confusion when he thinks Altaïr!Robert who is really Altaïr!Desmond being mostly a chill dude who obviously has a crush on Malik.

The horrific expression on Altaïr’s face when he sees that Malik feels the same way and the two idiots are being all lovey-dovey without even realizing it.

Altaïr wondering if all they needed to do to get Robert to be a chill more amicable dude was for him to fall in love. XD

===============================

Okay, crazier idea:

Man, you know what would be even funnier? If Altaïr was reborn as Robert de Sablé in the idea where Desmond was reborn as one of King Richard’s illegitimate brothers.

Like, just imagine Desmond’s confusion to why this Robert de Sablé is… more cooperative and seemed to support his push for reforms in the Templar Order that goes against everything that the Templar Order actually stands for. He’s even willing to kill the really bad ones like Garnier for Desmond and Desmond’s just “What the fuck is happening? Why is he so reasonable and nice. Is Robert de Sablé actually a good guy???”

Altaïr, on the other hand, actually thinks that Desmond is a real historical figure that got lost in time or never made a mark in history because he has assassins (no, not Assassins, just those pathetic killers for hire kind) hounding him almost every day and one of them killed Desmond too early. Altaïr had to get Maria to coordinate with him so someone is always with Desmond because the nobility definitely wants King Richard’s “fuck y’all, I’m gonna change this country for the people, not for the powerful” illegitimate brother (and Desmond doesn’t even know what he’s doing is affecting the country) dead before he poisons King Richard’s mind with all these talks of equality and whatever. Altaïr honestly believes that Desmond died in the original timeline (which is true BUT not in the year Altaïr assumes) and that keeping Desmond alive would be key to keeping everyone he cared for safe and ushering in a better future for everyone.

And then we can fuck this even more by making the current Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad be any of the following:

The real Robert de Sablé - this would be the most fucked up timeline because you know that Robert will have his own plans already in place and might even have taken Al Mualim’s place already by the time 1191 rolls around.

Lucy - It would be funny and Lucy would be trying so hard to keep the timeline in check and then she sees Desmond who is just happy to see Altaïr (not thinking he’s had Altaïr with him for years even before this) and she’s like “who the hell is this guy???”. Also, just Lucy suffering the entire time trying to be Altaïr XD

Elijah - “How can we make Desmond’s life more complicated with this idea?” Bring in the son he never knew who is also a Sage and who may or may not have an agenda of his own in this entire mess. They never interacted with one another in canon, sure, but Elijah knew his father was Desmond Miles so the potential drama and angst are there.

Ezio - … just imagine Desmond and Altaïr’s confusion when they meet the supposed Altaïr who turns out to be so charismatic and well-liked that the Assassins honestly believed him when he said ‘yeah, Al Mualim’s a bad dude’ and has been the mentor by the year 1190…

[ladykissingfish]

Konoha Nin and Akatsuki Members as Quotes

Kakashi

“People say that life is the thing, but I prefer reading.” — Logan Pearsall Smith

Sasuke

“I no doubt deserved my enemies, but I don’t believe I deserved my friends.” — Walt Whitman

Naruto

“My life feels like a test I didn’t study for.” — Anonymous

Sakura

“Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.” — Joan Crawford

Sai

“Laughing at our mistakes can lengthen our own life. Laughing at someone else’s can shorten it.” — Cullen Hightower

Yamato

“I always wanted to be somebody; but now I realize I should have been more specific.” — Lily Tomlin

Asuma

“If you resolve to give up smoking, drinking and loving, you don't actually live longer; it just seems longer.” — Clement Freud

Choji

“Inside me there’s a thin person struggling to get out, but I can usually sedate him with four or five cupcakes.” — Bob Thaves

Shikamaru

“Never put off till tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow.” — Mark Twain

Ino

“Whoever said money can’t buy happiness didn’t know where to shop.” — Gertrude Stein

Guy Sensei

“A few harmless flakes working together can unleash an avalanche of destruction.” — Justin Sewell

Neji

“The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has it’s limits.” — Albert Einstein

Lee

“Whatever you do, always give 100%. Unless you’re donating blood.” — Anonymous

Ten Ten

“A woman’s mind is cleaner than a man’s: She changes it more often.” — Oliver Herford

Kiba

“According to a new survey, 90% of men say their lover is also their best friend. Which is really kind of disturbing when you consider man’s best friend is his dog.” — Jay Leno

Shino

“Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self esteem, first make sure that you are not in fact, just surrounding yourself with assholes.” — Unknown

Hinata

“A diamond is simply a lump of coal that did well under pressure.” — Unknown

Jiraiya

“Good advice is something a man gives when he is too old to set a bad example.” — Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Tsunade

“Age is just a number. It’s totally irrelevant unless, of course, you happen to be a bottle of wine.” — Joan Collins

Orochimaru

“When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.” — Mark Twain

Konan

“A woman is like a tea bag; you never know how strong she is until you put her in hot water.” — Eleanor Roosevelt

Nagato

“People who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do.” — Isaac Asimov

Itachi

“Life would be tragic if it weren’t funny.” — Stephen Hawking

Kisame

“Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.” — Mark Twain

Deidara If at first you don’t succeed, fix your ponytail, and try again.” — Anonymous

Sasori

“What the world needs is more geniuses with humility; there are so few of us left.” — Oscar Levant

Hidan

“If you find it hard to laugh at yourself, I would be happy to do it for you.” — Groucho Marx

Kakuzu

“Money is not the most important thing in the world. Love is. Fortunately, I love money.” — Jackie Mason

Zetsu

“I intend to live forever. So far, so good.” — Steven Wright

Obito

“I want to be 14 again and ruin my life differently. I have new ideas.” — Unknown

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-Two

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX, LI

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: Hey everybody!!! It’s been a hot minute. We’ve been busy lately between work and life and all that fun stuff but here’s a new chapter <3

A/N: So we’re changing a lil bit up, and adding more characters, specifically the gods as we’ve been doing more world building lately. These Gods are also from my own WIP, but have also found their way here!

“I just don’t understand why you need specific wood from a specific place for the crib,” Lev muttered, splashing the water with his foot as he watched Nik paddle around. Nik still wore a large shirt even in the pool, as if Lev and Cameron didn’t know he was pregnant.

"Well, Lev," Nik said. "Not all of us are okay with using hand-me-downs from four hundred years ago. Some of us like new shiny things for new shiny parasites- I say with love- and besides, its native to Tullum. It's home; at least as close to home as I'll likely get."

Lev huffed. “I didn’t mean that you had to get hand-me-downs, if you don’t want to. But I figured asking for wood specific to a region of angel territory when neither of us can go to retrieve it... It’s just a big fuss to make, I guess.” He braced his hands on the side of the pool, leaning forward a bit. “I don’t- Cameron had lots of very pretty options, is all, I guess.”

Nik arched a brow, eyeing him dryly. "And where, exactly, do you think some of those woods come from, Levant?"

Lev hesitated. “I assumed demonic territory?” he finally said, very unsure of the answer now.

Nik splashed Lev with enough force Lev was drenched, spluttering. Before he could think of how to respond, Cameron popped Lev gently on the back of his head. Lev hadn’t even noticed Cameron approach.

As Lev looked up, Cameron simply said, “Come inside. Biela requires your presence. Both of you.”

Lev stood, looking back to Nik, who was hauling himself out of the pool. Since Nik had already soaked him, Lev tucked himself against Nik’s side as they went inside.

Biela was standing in the kitchen. Without looking at them, she simply said, “Take a seat.”

Lev peeled away and settled in a chair, but Nik folded his arms over his stomach, which was beginning to show by that point, and said, "And why should-"

Cameron sliced Nik a look. "Nikolas, sit the fuck down."

At those cold words, Nik promptly sat on the nearest stool without another word.

Lev reached for Nik’s hand. Something told him he would not like whatever Biela had to say. Nik’s fingers tightened around his briefly as they waited for Biela to speak.

Biela fixed her dark gaze on Nik first. “I’m assuming you are keeping the fetus.”

It wasn’t a brief squeeze this time. “Why?” Nik asked sharply.

“Nik,” Lev said softly.

Biela held up a hand in Lev’s direction. “Because I'm also assuming you'd want to know the magic used to bring your boyfriend back from the dead poisoned my lands and is killing countless children. That's why."

Cold washed over Lev, colder than the death that he knew still tugged at his bones. “What?” he blurted, barely a whisper.

"You," Biela said, squarely looking Lev in the eye, "And your cousin and that witch played with forces beyond your control and decided to poison my lands with your greed because you just couldn't leave death well enough alone. I figured since your mate is currently pregnant, that you might want to know what is happening to the infants being born. Much like Nik's infant soon enough."

Lev risked swinging his attention to Cameron, eyes wide. He knew he was digging his nails into Nik’s hand as he searched Cameron’s expression, but for the most part it was unreadable, the usual shrouded calculation flickering in his eyes. Lev looked back to Biela after a moment.

“I didn’t know,” he finally said, voice small.

“Clearly not. You seem to know nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” Lev said, finally shifting his attention to Nik. “I’m sorry.”

The blood had drained from Nik’s face. “You’re lying,” he said, the words a harsh counterpoint to Lev’s whispered apology.

"And why would I lie about such a thing?"

"Because you despise me, and you loathe Lev and want any excuse to put Lev back in the ground."

Biela’s mouth curled in a non-smile. "If I was going to put your precious Lev back where he belonged, I'd do so without needing such a cruel lie. I'd just do it."

Lev tugged on Nik’s hand. “Nik,” he said, a warning in his tone this time. “She’s right.”

Tears of anger welled in Nik's eyes. "This is bullshit. This is absolute bullshit. I just decided to keep the thing. Now you're telling me it'll die anyways?"

Greif coiled alongside the fear and guilt. “You didn’t have to tell us,” Lev said to Biela. “Thank you,” he added, before tugging at Nik again. “We’ll figure it out, Nik. You- you could stay with Nate, couldn’t you?”

Nik's mouth pressed into a thin line. "But this is my home," he said, voice breaking.

Steadily, Biela said, "Not every child has been born dead or scarred. Perhaps your blood will… protect it in some way. Healing it."

Lev pressed his face to Nik’s shoulder. “You should talk to Ash. Or Sazra. Both of them.”

Nik stood abruptly. “I’m going to bed,” he muttered, as if it wasn’t midafternoon. Lev watched him go in silence, his heart aching.

Only once he was gone did Lev look back to Biela. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Is there anything I can do?” He meant it, knew she’d read that in his mind, and hoped it meant... something. Though he doubted it did.

Biela leaned against her palms, black hair slipping over her shoulder. "What do you think you can do? You and your cousin offer your pretty apologies while countless are dead like a few well placed 'sorries' will give parents their young once more. I highly doubt putting you back where you belong would solve it, and as I promised your cousin, I wouldn't. You will live with your actions and you will think about how this has affected my kingdom. And you will think about how my mercy has been the only thing keeping you with a home. Not even your own people want you. And now, you're a mass murderer to my people. That is what you can do."

Her words hurt, as they were meant to, he was sure, but he heard no untruth. “I would never assume that an apology would fix anything,” he promised carefully. “I will never forget the cost; I promise. But-” He hesitated. “I know most demons don’t appreciate an angels healing. I have the magic to spare, if it is ever useful. I understand that- it’s not- it’s all I can offer.”

Biela arched a brow. "I'll keep it in mind. If there's something to make you useful, I'll look into it. It's the least you can do."

“It is,” Lev agreed, grief leaking into his tone despite himself. “Thank you,” he added again, before lowering his gaze to the ground. Any more, he thought, and he might say too much.

"And you're not even crying," Biela noted. "An improvement." She straightened, readying to leave. "I'll return for our check up. I expect you to behave in the meantime."

On her way out, Cameron dipped his head in a reverent bow.

Lev waited until her footsteps faded before he looked to Cameron. “What are we going to do?” he asked.

All Cameron said was, "Survive."

-----

After nearly a week of Amara seemingly dodging every appointment Ash tried setting up with her, Ash decidedly went to see Nik so he didn't hunt her down and wring her neck. It seemed like the better alternative.

It was Lev who answered the door. Hesitantly, Lev asked, "Am I allowed to talk to you?"

"Well," Ash said, looking over Lev’s head, "if you weren't, you'd be a little too late now. Where's Nik?"

Lev flushed, cheeks going a blotchy gold. “In bed,” he said, sounding sad. “I’m assuming you heard, then.”

Ash blinked. "Heard what? I just needed to check on him. Did something happen to Nik?" He asked, shouldering his way past Lev. "Is he alright?"

“Oh.” Lev seemed to hesitate. “Fine. Nik is. I think. I mean, he is, but-” His voice got smaller and smaller. “Whatever Cyrus did to bring me back- the magic- infants are dying. Not making it to birth. Biela told us a few days ago. I assumed that’s why you were here. I thought Nik had taken my advice.”

At that Ash halted in place and whirled on him, face leeched white with horror and rage. "Wanna run that by me again?"

Lev flinched away. “The magic poisoned the lands,” he whispered. “The children are dying because I came back."

"I-." Ash inhaled sharply. "I told you. I told every single one of you not to do it. I hope you're fucking happy with yourself," he snapped, jabbing him in the chest. "None of you selfish assholes would listen to me and children are dead for it." Ash whirled back around and stormed his way to Nik's bedroom. "And now I need to make sure another one doesn't die because of everyone's bad choices."

Nik jolted up when Ash burned the door in place to stalk inside. He didn't give Nik a moment to speak before he started doing what he did best. "Have you been keeping everything down? Any fevers or anything beyond the usual normal pregnancy stuff?"

Nik blinked blankly at him. "How the hell am I supposed to know? Because I'm an omega? I-"

"My mistake," Ash said. "I shouldn't have asked you. Lev, has everything been normal with Niks pregnancy so far?"

Lev hovered in the charred doorway. “Other than morning sickness that Cameron and I have been keeping an eye on, everything seems fine. I didn’t think to ask Biela how the- what was happening to the parents. I was- it was a shock.”

"Oh I'm sure," he said, shortly. He turned his full focus back on Nik. "Is there any way I can convince you to come home at least until the baby is born?" When Nik shook his head, Ash sighed. "Right. Well, at least meet me for appointments every few days in Liwen. That way you get exposure outside of Demonic Lands as well as getting a better look in my office?"

Nik sat up on his elbow and watched him warily. “Papi doesn’t want me coming home, Ash.”

Ash rolled his eyes and eyed the bruising still fading from Nik’s neck. “Hm. Well. I don’t think your father is going to get to say much of anything when I hold just as much, if not more power and sway than he does. Besides, you’re not stepping foot anywhere near him, especially when you’re pregnant. I’m sure Nate would have my head. Or at the very least try.”

Nik didn’t so much as crack a smile. “I don’t want to go home.”

Ash sighed loudly. “Alright, fine then.” When Lev tried scooting his way past to Nik, Ash shoved his face away. “Move it, I’m dealing with my patient, Lev.” When Lev huffed Ash looked pointedly at him. “If that’s too much to ask,” he suggested, “then perhaps you can see yourself outside while we talk.”

Lev’s only response was making a face. “I think I’m going to go see what Cameron’s making for dinner.”

When Lev left, Ash turned his sole focus back to Nik who was still looking rather tired. “You gotta let me help,” he said. “We both know I’m the best you’re going to get when it comes to your health.”

“Dunno. Sazra seems to know plenty.”

“Sazra hasn’t seen the light of day in well over a thousand years. That,” he said, “and from what you’ve told me, Sazra also wants to string you up by your balls. Your physiology is different from demons and as great as a healer I’m sure she is, I am your healer and I’m not trusting a demon to take care of you when I’ve known you for the last nineteen years.”

Nik waved him off. “Figure it out, Ash. I don’t want to leave.”

“Because of Lev?” Ash asked, pointedly.

“And if it is?” Nik shot back.

“Then you’re making stupid choices for your baby.”

Nik almost looked like Ash hit him. Ash tried to reel back from that very poor choice of words, but even if he was successful at it, he still didn’t regret them. It was the truth especially when there were millions of infants dead because Ash didn’t stop Amara or Cyrus and now Nik was in the line of fire for his own inactions. “Look,” Ash warned, “if you won’t come back then I’m moving in here and I will make everyone who lives in this house as miserable as physically possible.”

“Like Cameron would let you.“

Ash scoffed. “You think I’m afraid of Wonder Bread Cameron? I get what I want and what I currently want won’t come back with me.”

Nik’s brows shot up at that, but before he could say anything Lev came slinking his way back into the room. “Mami’s actually in charge of dinner tonight so Cameron’s in his office. He looks kinda grumpy.”

“Surprise of surprises, I’m sure,” Ash said. He looked back to Nik. “So what is it, you coming with me voluntarily or am I moving in here against all of your wills?” When Nik stared at him in stony silence, Ash took that as answer enough. He got up from the bed and shouldered his way past Lev.

----

Ash was still being cranky, and Nik was still in bed. Lev wasn’t stupid enough enough to bother Cameron again, and so when he heard Eden waking up from her afternoon nap he decided to go pick her up before she upset the whole house with her fussing.

Even if he was supposed to be limiting how much he picked her up.

After some well placed smacks for not getting to her soon enough, Eden buried her face in his shoulder with a half-awake growl. Lev gave her a little bounce and settled in the rocking chair, toy in hand to offer her when she bothered to lift her head.

Only when several minutes had passed did Eden finish her little sniffle-growls and take the stuffed bear. Within seconds the ear was detached.

Lev sighed as he fished it out of her mouth. Eden took the chance to sink her little teeth into his finger, hard enough to draw blood. Before Lev could pull away, Eden gave a pleased shriek, little nails digging into his hand to keep him there. Despite the surprising amount of strength the toddler had, he managed to get free, in time for Ash to stick his head in the room, eyes glowing enough of a bright green that Lev was quite sure Ash was seeing just fine.

“I just can't seem to leave you alone for five minutes without you nearly getting killed by demons,” Ash grumbled.

Lev shrugged, catching Eden’s little hand before she could smack him again. “Hitting isn’t nice, bitty girl.”

She simply screeched in his face, and then thunked her forehead on his shoulder, giggling.

Lev looked up at Ash. “I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said as Eden took her bear back and began the gruesome work of beheading it. “Well, I mean- I wasn’t sure how to because I wasn’t sure if we were allowed to talk, and then you needed to check on Nik, and-” He paused, blinking hard. “Rambling. Sorry. I’m trying to work on that. I remembered things, about when I was dead.” He pressed a kiss to Eden’s head to buy himself some time to order his thoughts, and then went on. “I met Nature. During that time I was hesitating. And they talked to me.”

“Oh? And you didn’t bother to tell me this sooner?”

Lev winced. From what he’d gathered from the conversation with Nature, the link between Ash and the god ran deeper than Lev had ever realized. Not that Lev had ever really paid attention to it. He’d never been particularly close to Nature himself; he was starting to regret not trying to forge a connection with the only god the angels had. Maybe his magic would have been easier to access, stronger even, if he had.

“I didn’t remember for a long time,” he finally said to Ash. “But I do now, so I’m telling you.”

It’d been an intense conversation, for sure. He could see a lot of Ash in Nature. Or maybe there was a lot of Nature in Ash. Lev wasn’t too sure how the mechanics of it worked. Nature had all but berated him for dragging his feet. Just from past experience they knew if the spell failed it’d have unimaginable consequences, and Lev now knew just how bad it could have been.

“I promised them I would be the last resurrection,” he told Ash. “And I said if that failed, that I’d help take some of the- the punishment you suffered. It’s not fair for you to be in that much pain on your own.”

“Ya think?” Ash snipped.

Lev took a small breath, and then replied calmly, “I really am sorry, Ash. It was the least I could do, I thought.”

Ash rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Tell me everything you talked about.”

“A lot of it was... kind of scolding. About trying to come back,” Lev admitted. “And telling me there were going to be consequences either way. They laid out exactly what you went through while not stopping us.” Lev cleared his throat. “I- that's when I offered. To help shoulder the pain.” After tucking his cheek against Edens hair, he held up a hand, weaving his shadows through his fingers with ease. “I think that might be why my magic is stronger. I was going to try to- to find more ways to connect with them, but I’ll have to wait until I can go back to angelic territory now, I think.”

“Why? There’s temples here.”

“Oh. I didn’t-” He stopped, frowned. “I don’t know much about demons and the gods-” He sighed this time. “I’m still on house arrest. I’m not allowed to leave until Biela deems me not a security risk.”

Ash lifted a brow. “Aren’t you in a relationship with a demon?”

“We’ve never had a conversation about religion, Ash,” Lev said with an even deeper frown. “I don’t think Cameron’s particularly religious. I guess I could ask him about the demonic gods. All I know is that they’re where demons get their magic, like we do from Nature.”

“They have a name, you know,” Ash said. Lev couldn’t figure out if he sounded irritated or tired. “It’s Asmi.”

Lev flushed. “I- I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He cleared his throat, and said more firmly, “No one really calls them by their name, but I should- I should have asked.”

“Probably,” Ash said drily. “And technically they’re not even the god of nature.”

Lev stood up, bouncing Eden on his hip. “They aren’t?” He asked. “That’s what we were taught in primary school, I’m sorry.”

“Primary school?” Ash said. If Lev didn’t know better, he was teasing him now. Crankily, sure, but still.

Rather than dignify that with an answer, Lev gave up and let a very wiggly Eden down to crawl around the nursery.

“Asmi is the god of balance,” Ash finally said. “They’re tied to the earth. Anything falls out of balance, and we’re all affected. That’s probably where the angels got nature from.”

“Makes sense why the teachers simplified it like that, I suppose,” Lev replied. “If it’s- if it’s not too much trouble, could you teach me more, whenever you get the chance?”

“Sure. Looks like I’m rooming with you for the foreseeable future anyway.”

“Thank you,” Lev said, smiling at Ash. He didn’t get one in return, but considering the amount of pain Ash had gone through in the past several months because of Lev, he didn’t blame Ash. Not one bit.

~~~

There was only so much of Nik’s day being spent in bed Lev could stand before he felt restless himself. Even taking care of Eden couldn’t shake his inherent need to be a busy body. So when it occurred to him that Nik had not yet actually celebrated his pregnancy, he decided it was high time something good be associated with Nik’s pregnancy.

After all, it was tradition.

Lev waited until Eden was down for her nap to corner Cameron and Ash in the kitchen. “I think Nik deserves a baby shower,” he said without preamble. “And I think we should throw him one.”

“Of course you do,” Cameron said, not even looking up from the meat he was searing in a skillet.

Lev looked expectantly at Ash, who just gave a shrug. “Might as well get him out of that foul mood of his.”

“He’s no reason to be happy about what’s going on,” Lev replied reasonably. When Ash narrowed his eyes at Lev, the lack of a glow to his green gaze letting Lev know he wasn’t actually able to see him right now, Lev was quick to add, “So I want to... give him some happier memories about this pregnancy. He’s so miserable right now and all he’s gotten is bad news. A party will cheer him up and maybe give him something to look forward to.”

“Are you suggesting he isn’t looking forward to the several horrendous hours of labor to push that fetus out?” Cameron asked, flicking a look Lev’s way.

Lev blinked. “Well. No, I doubt that. But. The after? Holding the baby? I don’t think he’s thought that far. He’s just stressed and worried.”

“That was sarcasm, Levant,” Ash pointed out.

“Oh.” Lev rubbed his nose. “Um. Well. I do think it’s a good idea.”

“Alright. Fine. I’m sure we can have something set up this weekend.”

“Thank you,” Lev said to Cameron, looking pleased. Up until he realized... “Who can we invite”?”

“Well, that is indeed the question, isn’t it?” Ash mused.

“Can Nate be invited?”

“I sure hope so, Nate practically raised him,” Ash said dryly.

Lev grimaced at him, knowing very well he couldn’t see it. “Yes, but- am I allowed to be there if he is?”

“I think it’ll be fine, especially if Bay is with him.”

After considering that, Lev gave a small nod. “Okay. Can I help plan for it, Cameron?”

“I suppose,” Cameron said.

Lev gave a small hum. “Ocean themed? To match the nursery?”

“Sure,” Cameron said, with the same amount of indifference as before.

This time Lev huffed at Cameron. “I’m going to go see if Mami wants to help,” he said, knowing it was a little petty.

“You do that,” Cameron said.

As Lev... well, even he could admit he was flouncing off a bit, Ash followed. Lev took that as a silent agreement to actually participate in the planning.

---

Darius found himself in Cyrus’ office with a mug of tea in front of him and Cyrus across from him with his own coffee. Even if Darius couldn’t drink the tea, he did appreciate the gesture. It would be nice to be able to drink tea once more.

“Why Cameron?” Cyrus asked, not in an accusatory way, but genuine curiosity.

“Why not Cameron?” Darius asked, splaying his brown fingers along the desk.

Cyrus gave a shrug as he continued to flip through his notes, coffee seemingly forgotten. “He’s not exactly the sort most people seem to be attached to. Outside yourself, Nikolas, and Levant, of course. Most others seem frightened more than anything.”

“I don’t see why,” Darius said. “Cameron’s never been frightening to me.”

“Perhaps it's the amount of people he’s tortured and killed,” Cyrus pointed out mildly. He looked up briefly. “I mean no offense, I simply want to understand.”

Darius thought on that, and he thought on the boy he had known when he was alive. And he thought on the hell that was unleashed upon Cameron once it was found that Darius had died at Cameron’s own hand. And then he said, “Perhaps. Though, I do not judge a person by their occupation. One could say Sorin has killed his own fair share of people, no?”

Cyrus looked over at Sorin, who was curled up as a cat on a pile of papers, orange tail twitching against his white flank as he dozed. “He did,” Cyrus agreed. “And he retired. But you made your point. I see where you’re coming from.” He looked back to Darius. “The war made a monster out of many people. But something tells me the war is not what happened to Cameron.”

“Just a different kind of war,” Darius sighed. He traced along one of his rings. “Have you come up with a solution that would not let Cameron die in the process?” Even if Darius was quite sure Cameron wouldn’t blink at the idea of giving his own life to right this particular wrong- even when the last five hundred years had Cameron’s story of survival written in betrayal and blood.

“I considered just... any life. But- that doesn’t seem a fair trade,” Cyrus sighed, running his own ringed fingers over his face. “I’m not willing to attempt the spell without certainty. The cost of failure is too high, and it’s your only chance.”

“Of course,” Darius said. “I do not take any of this lightly. I am very grateful to you, Cyrus.”

Cyrus gave a small smile, though his face was tired. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Not until after I guarantee this will work.” He propped his chin in his hand. “It’s starting to look like there’s no way for me to be sure what is an acceptable trade, unless I speak with Nature themself.” Cyrus paused. “Which would be difficult, because I’ve never tried to form any sort of connection with Nature before. I didn’t get the education most witches do from their covens, and I was learning so much about the practical side that it slipped my mind.”

“Well,” Darius said, “I am sure there is no time like the present to get acquainted with your god.” Something Cameron, too, was unable to do. “Asmi seems… sturdy.”

Cyrus hummed. “Sturdy. Concrete. Something like that. I think.” He tapped his cheek. “I have no idea how to go about it, though.”

“I could reach out,” Darius offered. “Seeing as how I’m in the same realm as they are. And there’s less risk to you if I were to approach them first.”

Cyrus considered that. “That would... be very helpful, actually,” he mused. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Though perhaps after I take a nap.”

Tagging:  @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

[kim-seungmine]

the time is now

title: the time is now

characters: (fem) reader x kim seungmin of stray kids (feat. choi lia of itzy, lee felix + bang chan of stray kids)

genres: romance, rich kid au, friends to lovers au, (sort of!) mafia au, dedicating this to 191109 seungmin & levanter era!seungmin

word count: 7.9k 

warnings: alcohol consumption, violence (nothing too wild tho), i haven’t proofread, idk what im doing tbh (but seungmin drives an aston martin i hope that makes you feel better)

synopsis: you and seungmin spent years pushing each other away, only to be confronted by your biggest fears when you finally decided to stop running away.

a/n: i hope this doesn’t suck :(((

Summer is for fun. Summer is for rest. Summer is for romance.

But summer is also for opportunities, and that’s the sole reason why you’re standing inside the Laura Ryu boutique—where you can’t even afford its cheapest pair of earrings. The luxury fashion brand is open for internships for the very first time and now it’s one of those “a million girls would kill for that job” positions in South Korea.

“Good morning, everyone.”

The sweet but regal voice belongs to Julia Choi, Laura Ryu’s daughter who’s specifically flew back from New York to Seoul for the summer to help her mother managing the internship. You know her better as Choi Jisu, your childhood friend who’s currently attending Parsons School of Design.

“I’m Choi Jisu, and I’m going to be your mentor throughout the internship. Well, technically I’m responsible for all of you here so please, stay in one piece until the end of summer although it’s going to be absolute hell, okay?”

Everyone laughs, and soon you’re ushered to one big studio inside. You see a placard with your name on one of the table and quickly head there, giving Jisu a little wave as she tells the other interns to find their stations.

After all the interns are seated, Jisu claps, effectively silencing everyone. “And now, something to motivate you,” she announces. “We’re going to monitor every single one of you and by the end of summer, we’re going to choose one intern to help with our next collection. How’s that sound?”

Excited whispers are heard all over the room, and you hope you’ll survive summer in one piece.

“Y/N! Wait up!”

Jisu is running down the stairs, her heels making loud clacking sounds against the marble floor. She envelops you in a tight hug the moment you’re within an arm’s reach. You’ve missed Jisu, it feels like it’s been ages since you volunteered at the animal shelter together.

“I can’t believe you actually applied!” she chirps.

You chuckle. “Well, I can’t believe I actually got in.”

Jisu snorts. “Oh please. I don’t need to see your portfolio to know how amazing it is. You’re probably the only one who sent a proper portfolio.”

She greets the shopkeepers, leading you outside. “Are you free? Let’s catch up!” she offers. You nod, linking your arm with hers. “What do you want to do? Coffee?”

“O—”

A white Aston Martin pulls over in front of you, causing Jisu to gasp and check her watch. The window rolls down, revealing an annoyed Kim Seungmin on the driver’s seat. “Yah Choi Jisu,” he snaps. “I know I’m just your insignificant cousin, but couldn’t you at least tell me that you were going to be at your Mom’s boutique the whole day?”

“Oh shoot, sorry Seungmin! I totally forgot,” Jisu panics, turning to you with apologetic eyes. “It’s okay,” you assure her. “Go. You’re stuck with me for the whole summer anyways.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m not gonna leave you behind. Seungmin, you don’t mind if I bring Y/N along, do you?”

Yeah, Kim Seungmin. Someone from your “summer is for romance” phase two years ago. You’re well aware that you’re an intern at his aunt’s boutique, but you thought you wouldn’t meet him since he’s set to take over his father’s law firm instead of becoming the heir of Laura Ryu’s fashion empire.

“It’s fine,” you refuse. “We can hang out some other time, Jisu. You two have fun!”

“Come with us,” Seungmin interjects, calmly as usual. Two years of not seeing him in flesh has weakened your defense. Seungmin has always looked fine, but now he looks ten times hotter with his dirty blond hair and you’re cursing yourself for being so shallow. Jisu shrugs, opening the door and pulling you inside.

Seungmin glances at the empty passenger seat then at the rear-view mirror. “So where are we headed, Young Mistresses?” he asks, his tone both sarcastic and playful.

“We were going to grab some coffee. Just stop by at the first Starbucks you see,” Jisu answers before attacking you with questions. Seungmin mumbles an, “Okay Miss” before making a u-turn. You feel all eyes are on you when you enter the café, suddenly realizing that you just stepped out of Kim Seungmin’s Aston Martin with Choi Jisu attached to your side.

For a split second, you forgot that you’re hanging out with South Korea’s top socialites who are way too cool for Starbucks.

After getting your orders, the three of you are chatting about every little thing. “And how is our little Byul? Has she been adopted?”

You and Seungmin exchange awkward glances, causing Jisu to cock an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“I didn’t go to the shelter last year,” you confess.

“Me neither,” Seungmin mumbles, sipping his Americano in a haste.

“Okay, neither of you went to the shelter last year, so what? What are you guys being so weird about?”

“Nothing,” you and Seungmin answer in unison. Jisu examines your face and snaps her fingers, seeming to get the idea. “Well, if that’s the case… why don’t you two talk things out?”

“Wait what happened to catching up?” you panic, while Seungmin grabs his cup and stands up. “I should drive you home,” he says.

Jisu clicks her tongue. “Sit down, both of you.”

You and Seungmin do as told, begging her with your eyes to save yourselves from this situation. “As you said, Y/N, we’re stuck together for the whole summer so we still have a lot of time. And no thank you, dear cousin. I’ll just take the cab. See you!”

Your friend smiles at you one last time before walking out, stopping the first cab she can find. You turn to Seungmin, finally letting yourself indulge in his pretty eyes that only seem to warm up whenever you’re around. Contrary to popular belief, there’s nothing special about Kim Seungmin except for the fact that he’s a straight-As law student, looks both adorable and hot, and is actually a sweet, humble boy despite being filthy rich.

Okay, you’re definitely not over him.

Seungmin clears his throat. “So, how’s the internship so far?”

“It was only my first day,” you answer. “We didn’t do much yet. The real fight starts tomorrow, I guess.”

“You’re in good hands. Jisu handles everything well, and her Mom won’t even show up until the last day so you’re going to have fun.”

You laugh. “But one of the interns is going to be included in the team in charge of the next collection so I suppose your aunt will appear once in a while, right?”

“She’ll be in Paris the whole summer,” Seungmin explains. “Jisu begged her to let her handle the program because she misses home, and here we are now.”

“How about you? Been doing fine, I guess?”

The little spark in Seungmin’s eyes fades at your question. He stands up, returning your puzzled gaze with a cold one. “Let me take you home.”

“You don’t need to,” you retort, slightly offended. “Seungmin, did I say something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” he denies. “Please let me take you home. Jisu will kill me if I leave you alone here.”

You’re not satisfied with his answer, but decide to follow him. Seungmin enters the driver’s seat and starts the engine, heading to your neighbourhood without a word. “You still remember where I live?” you ask.

“I’m a law student Y/N. I can remember a lot of things.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. This is probably the only thing you hate about Seungmin: he shuts down everyone the moment he shows a hint of weakness. “Seungmin… are you okay?” you try again. “I’m not getting off until I get a proper answer.”

Jisu once told you that everyone in their big family sees a therapist every month; you know for sure that Seungmin must be their favorite patient because they get paid a fortune for counselling a very good boy who answers everything with positive words.

Seungmin is a strong, positive guy, but not all the time. People tend to forget that. He tends to forget that.

Looking at how tense he is, you decide to drop the subject. “How’s Chan and Felix?” you ask while scrolling through your Instagram feed, looking at a photo of the said boys posing in front of their luxury cars.

Seungmin’s eyes soften at the mention of his best friends. “Aren’t you the one who go to the same university?” he questions endearingly.

Christopher Bang and Felix Lee were your classmates in Fashion Journalism—a class which Felix signed up for by mistake. He tried to have it erased from his timetable, but changed his mind when he realized that everyone in that class was girls. Soon, his best bro Chris Bang joined him and when they found out you were friends with Seungmin and Jisu too, they wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Yeah, but everytime I want to say hi they’re always surrounded by their friends.”

“You mean Seo Changbin, Lee Minho and Yang Jeongin?”

You nod. Seungmin laughs, slowing down his pace as he reaches your neighbourhood. “Just say hi. Those guys are harmless.”

“Easy for you to say,” you scoff. “Seo Changbin radiates this ‘you can’t sit with us’ vibes stronger than those girls in Mean Girls.”

“I mean it,” he repeats. “Just say hi. Felix calls you all the time anyways. You’re a part of their so-called circle.”

“You mean your circle?” you correct him jokingly, unfastening your seatbelt as he smoothly hits the brake in front of your house. “Thank you for taking me home.”

Seungmin smiles your favorite smile, the one where his eyes disappear into crescent moons. The door is opened, yet you’re just sitting there, trying to look for answers inside Seungmin’s doe eyes.

“What is it?”

You chew your bottom lip, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

Your Golden Retriever puppy named Sun died when you were in fifth grade. You couldn’t function for the rest of summer, so your Dad suggested that you volunteer at an animal shelter. You eventually registered for a 2-week volunteer program where you fell in love with a lively Pomeranian you ended up adopting and a lovely boy named Kim Seungmin.

You and Seungmin went to different schools (he attended an elite all-boys school), the volunteer program was the only time you could meet him. He brought his cousin Choi Jisu the next year, and it became a routine for the three of you from then on. Your beautiful friendship was perfect until your 18th birthday, when Seungmin gifted you a box full of photos of you he had taken as your birthday present.

After 8 years, you finally realized that Kim Seungmin wasn’t just a friend you volunteered with. He was the one you played hide and seek with, he was the one who taught you to use a camera, he was the one who sang to you when you cried after one of the dogs in the shelter got sick.

“Have I ever told you that I love your voice?” you asked him on one Sunday morning, right before you turned 20. “You could be a singer.”

“No, but thank you. You said it right when I started doubting myself.”

“This is not an empty compliment, Seungmin. I’m serious.”

Seungmin ruffled your hair, eyes lighting up at your seriousness. “You never say empty words, Y/N. I know that.”

After a few minutes of trying to find the right response and not finding any, you decided to let his compliment hang in the air. You laid beside him, keeping a safe distance because hearing him breathe so peacefully was enough to mess up your insides.

Seungmin turned to you, and for a while he just stayed like that, quietly examining your face while you were on the verge of freaking out.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t change his position, eyes still locked on your face as he whispered, “I asked myself that too, but I honestly don’t know. I just hope I can see you like this forever. Seeing you makes me happy.”

Speechless, you didn’t dare to meet his eyes. How were you supposed to react? Was Seungmin drunk?

“Seriously,” you croaked to break the silence. “You should audition to become an idol or something.”

“Should I?”

“Well, depends whether you want it or not, but go ahead if you want! You have nothing to lose anyways!”

His lips curled into a sad smile. “Nothing to lose? Y/N, money isn’t the only thing I have.”

Whenever you started to feel that maybe you and Seungmin could become something more, the universe always made sure to remind you that he wasn’t just a boy you grew up with. He was the only son of a successful lawyer who rode limousine to school and owned a black credit card he used without thinking. He appeared on nation’s newspaper after attending exclusive parties you could only dream of going. He was someone who flew to London with private jet over the weekend because he wanted to take some photos.

You laughed, locking eyes with him without realizing. “But with your money you can have everything, Seungmin. You and Jisu are different from the rest of us.”

Ten years of friendship and you never once talked about this. You knew Seungmin wouldn’t mind; he wasn’t the type who liked to flaunt his wealth, but he wasn’t one of those people who didn’t like to be reminded of how loaded they were. He never cared. But you were afraid he would think that you did, so you always avoided making comparisons.

That day, you had to do it. Maybe you were too protective of yourself, but you couldn’t risk getting hurt. One little slash on your heart, and the wound would leave a permanent scar.

Seungmin hummed in agreement, breaking the eye contact to look at the clear sky.

He left the shelter the next day, and you never talked to him again.

“Jisuuuu,” you whine as Jisu pulls you into Rose’s, a fancy bar that she frequents. “I thought we were just going to hang out!”

“We are!” Jisu exclaims, waving at the bartender before choosing a spot. She orders you a drink you’re not familiar with before pouting at you. “Okay, sorry for not telling you, but we’re not gonna hang out alone today.”

The door opens, revealing Chan and Felix. The latter immediately throws his arms around you, and you can’t help but break into an endearing laugh. “Y/N!!!! Why is it so hard to meet you? Don’t you miss your expensive friends?!”

You pull away from his grip. “Excuse me, but since when your socialite agenda includes your humble friend right here?”

Felix pouts, ordering a glass of Dry Martini while Chan and Jisu are whispering among themselves. You scoot closer to them. “What are you guys whispering about?”

The three of them snicker at the same time and you figure this isn’t just the usual “hanging out” session.

You turn to Chan. “Bang Chan, spill.”

“Wow, hearing someone that’s not my parents calling me Bang Chan is so refreshing,” Chan says. “It’s like having 2 personalities. Christopher is this hot, alluring, seductive man no one ever says no to, while Bang Chan is his inner child—soft, caring, funny… but still hot—”

Jisu shoots Chan a deathly glare before smiling at you. “You like Seungmin, don’t you?”

You take a sip of your drink and let her question sink in. Looking at your friends’ faces, you know that it wasn’t even a question. They feel it, and there’s no use of denying your feelings anymore.

“And that’s all we need to know!” Chan exclaims, standing up from his seat. He slips in a few dollars into the bartender’s pocket. “Seungmin doesn’t know we were here.”

Felix slaps his shoulder. “Bro you were literally the one who told him to come here. Stop trying to be cool.”

“Ah… you’re right,” Chan answers as Jisu rolls her eyes. “But anyways, Seungmin is will be here soon. Talk to him, okay?”

After waving them goodbye, you glance at your surroundings. Everyone is chatting with their friends while sipping their drinks happily; they’re in their natural habitat, while you’re just sitting there hoping Seungmin will come soon so you can get out of there as soon as possible. The bartender notices your uneasiness and offers you another drink to try.

Just as you start contemplating to leave, Seungmin enters the bar. He gives you a small wave when his eyes land on you, like it’s natural to see you there. The bartender serves 2 glasses of drinks before Seungmin even reaches you, “Gin and tonic, Mr. Kim’s favorite.”

Taking off his suit, Seungmin sits beside you and sips his drink. “When Chan kept terrorizing me to get here ASAP I know something’s up,” he says, examining your face. “… and you want to leave.”

Without waiting for your answer, Seungmin takes his coat. “Put it on my tab,” he tells the bartender, putting his hand on the small of your back and leads you out.

“Do you want to talk?” he asks after you’re sitting inside his car. “For real this time.”

He sounds apologetic, hurt and hopeful all at once and you recall everything you said to him two years ago. Those words left a deep scar in your heart, you can only imagine how broken Seungmin must have been.

“Yeah, we do need to talk.”

You never want to allow yourself to feel insecure, but the voices in your head get wild sometimes. You hate to admit it, the same way Seungmin hates to admit that he’s not always the calm and strong heir everyone expects him to be.

The only way to tune out those voices is to visit the park near your house to play on the swings

Seungmin has rolled up his sleeves so he could help you push the swings. You try to look over your shoulder. “Kim Seungmin what are you doing? Push it harder!” you demand, to which he shakes his head.  

He continues to push the swings gently, still allowing you to feel the cold wind on your face. “No,” he answers firmly. “You’ll get sick.”

Knowing you can’t change his mind, you just let him set the pace, and soon your heart starts to feel lighter. The voices get muffled by Seungmin’s low humming. You have a lot of explaining to do, yet he hasn’t said anything, not even telling you to smile a little. This time you’re not sure if it’s because of the swings or Seungmin or both, but the voices are almost gone now and you decide that’s enough for tonight.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper quietly. Seungmin stops pushing, letting the swings moves by itself before coming to a halt. He kneels down in front of you, a frown on his face. “Why? What did you do?”

“Two years ago… I’m sorry I pushed you away,” you sigh. “I’m sorry I did it like that. And I’m sorry for pestering you the other day. I don’t have any right to force you to tell me things.”

Seungmin heaves a sigh, grabbing your hand to stop you from fiddling with your shirt. He slowly laces his fingers with yours, the warmth of his eyes reminding you of the old happy days when the two of you would sneak out from the shelter to have a picnic under the clear sky. “And I shouldn’t have left,” he reminds you. You only stare into each other’s eyes until he blurts out, “Can we start over?”

You almost cry at how easy and right it feels. You spent years of your adolescent life telling yourself that this wouldn’t work, the wall you built to protect your heart was destroyed by the very person you built it for. But you find it impossible to lie when he’s looking at you with so much hope and adoration. When you finally nod, Seungmin rewards you with his toothy grin that always makes your insides flip.

The voices in your head shout out warnings at you, but you quickly shut all of them down. You’re not going to let them win. You’re not going to let them stop you from loving the only boy you want to love.

“Let’s take things slow, yeah?”

Seungmin beams at your words, pulling you up to envelop you in his arms. He waits until you relax before tightening his hold. You rest your forehead on his shoulder, breathing him in as he mouths words you can’t decipher into your hair. “Remember when you managed to persuade that young couple to adopt Vivi?”

“My lucky day,” you murmur, unconsciously pulling him closer to you.

“It was my lucky day too.”

“Of course it was! The owner also bought you chicken when Jisu and I were the ones working hard! You just nodded along with us!”

Seungmin chuckles. “I got to hold you for the first time that day. You were so happy that Vivi got a new home that you just jumped into my arms. Then you started crying and ruined my Balenciaga shirt, but I was beyond happy. You stayed in my arms until you fell asleep, and I got to watch you sleep.”

You pinch his waist softly. “You’re such a creep.”

Seungmin’s laugh only makes you feel even giddier than you already are, so you just close your eyes and relish in the feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist securely. “Shall we go to Jeju tomorrow?” he suggests.

“Jeju?”

He pulls away, enough for him to see your face but still holding you close. “Yeah. I can book us tickets so we can fly tomorrow and spend the whole weekend there. You don’t have internships on weekends, right? We’ll go to pretty places and I’ll take hundreds of pretty photos of you. We can have dinner by the beach since our villa is facing the ocean. You love seafood, right? Our chefs—”

“Kim Seungmin, what happened to taking things slow?” you giggle, causing him to let out a cute frustrated groan. “I’m sorry. How about a road trip to Busan then?”

“You can drive to Busan?”

“You’re underestimating me, love.”

Seungmin’s phone rings when you’re about to utter a sassy remark. He glances at the caller and releases you, his eyes turn cold as he accepts the call. “Yes, father?”

You can’t hear what his father is saying, but whatever it is, Seungmin doesn’t look happy. You reach for his hand carefully, and he quickly squeezes yours while responding to his father in a polite, business-like manner. He walks you to your house, telling his father that he’ll be home soon.

Seungmin pulls you into his arms again as soon as he slides his phone into his pocket. “Duty calls?”

“Mhm,” he replies. “As you can see, I had a meeting today, and Father wants updates.”

“He already involves you in meetings? That’s cool!”

“Nah, I can’t voice out any opinion yet. I’m just there to listen.”

Seungmin detaches himself from you, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “So, I’ll pick you up at 6?”

You nod, not even bothering to protest that it’s too early because you want to see him again soon. Seungmin enters his car and starts the engine. He rolls down the window, grinning when he sees you wave at him. The phone call must have bothered him, but you decided to let it slide. “Text me when you get home,” you tell him.

Take things slow. You have to take things slow.  

Not only does Seungmin know how to drive to Busan (while looking extremely attractive behind the wheels), he also knows Busan like the back of his palm. He took you to all the pretty places and took pretty photos of you as promised. Now you’re at the balcony of the Kim family villa (you figure they have apartments and villas scattered in the whole country), nestled in Seungmin’s arms while waiting for the sun to set.

“Wait, sit over there!” Seungmin forces you to move from your spot to the end of the couch. “The angle is pretty!” He snaps a few photos with his newest Leica camera that’s worth a car. You give him your silliest poses before bursting into a fit of giggles. Seungmin puts the camera on the coffee table and pulls you back to him. “Enough photos for today,” he mutters, settling you on his lap. Seungmin never struck you as someone who loves skinship, but he never misses a chance to wrap you in his arms, and you’re not complaining. He probably feels the same blissful comfort you feel whenever the two of you touch.

The sun begins to set, and for a while you focus your gaze on the sky, admiring the way the sun paints it with shades of orange. Seungmin shifts underneath you, pressing a kiss on your exposed shoulder to earn your attention. You meet his eyes, and you see a tinge of worry in them. “What is it?”

Seungmin takes an awfully long time to answer your question, causing you to cup his face. “Tell me.”

“Do you trust me?”

The question has you frowning. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

Seungmin smiles, but the tinge of worry is still reflected through his orbs. “Whatever happens, I’ll try my best to make this work, okay? I’ll do anything to make this work. I want you in my life, more than you can imagine.”

“Seungmin—”

“There will be days when I’ll be away for meetings, there will be days when I’ll feel like absolute shit because of my Father and the business,” he reveals. “Sometimes it will feel like I’m keeping you in the dark and I know you won’t like that, but there are so many things I need to sort out now, and I can’t tell you anything yet. Is that okay?”

You can’t base your relationship on not-knowing! You can’t base your relationship on excuses and blind faith!

“Is it too much if I ask you not to let me wait for too long?”

Seungmin shakes his head so fast you wonder if it hurts his neck. “You know how smart I am,” he boasts. “Trust me, you’ll be amazed at how good I am in getting things done.”

“You better be, there are a lot of people waiting for your help, Lawyer Kim.”

Your boyfriend chuckles. “Speaking of getting things done, I have a request for you.”

“Request?”

“There’s this masked ball held by Chan’s Dad next month, and we’re all attending. I’ve been looking for a nice mask, but everything seems mediocre. Will you design one for me?”

You squeal, immediately attacking him in a tight hug. You’ve always wanted to design jewelries, including masks. The mere thought of buying the materials, matching the design according to Seungmin’s style and drawing all the pretty details launch you to cloud 9 in an instant.

“I guess you like it,” Seungmin singsongs. “I have one more request though.”

You tilt your head in excitement.

“I want you to be my date.”

Your smile falters, but Seungmin tug at your lips softly, gesturing at you to smile again. “Everyone will wear a mask and you’ll only take it off at midnight, so we can leave before midnight if you want. Besides, I’m just a guest. All eyes will be on Chan.”

“But what kind of dress am I supposed to wear? Everyone will—”

“Aren’t you a designer? You’ve sewed a lot of dresses, wear one of them.”

“But they’re not from designer brands, aren’t you ashamed?”

“I don’t care,” Seungmin tells you in the most caring tone. “You’re you, not Julia Choi. Not Felix Lee. Not Christopher Bang. And you’re not me.”

Flashbacks from your painful conversation two years ago come in a flash, but now both of you are looking at it from a whole different perspective. Your smile slowly returns, and Seungmin huffs a sigh of relief. “That’s my girl.”

“Can I tell you something too?”

He nods.

“There will be days when I’ll feel like I’ll never be good enough to succeed in anything,” you begin, biting your lip to prevent tears from falling. “I don’t let myself dwell on it most of the time, but sometimes I fail. Is that okay?”

Seungmin cradles your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’ll knock some sense into you whenever you’re about to drown in self-pity!”

You pat his head in return, hoping that this Seungmin—the one whose eyes radiate sunshine and voice laced with honey, the one whose laugh sounds like a sweet melody—will be the Seungmin he shows to the rest of the world more.

Seungmin is still cradling your face, gaze flickering to your lips every now and then, triggering you to do glance at his lips in return. The pull is too tempting, you wonder if you should just crash your lips on his or let him decide for you.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” he whispers, barely audible. Your eyes flutter close, and Seungmin doesn’t waste any time. His lips meet yours in a fleeting kiss, making your breath hitch at how soft and burning his lips feel. Seungmin kisses you deeply, taking his time to savor you and you’re going insane at the way he clutches your waist, the way he hums everytime you pull him closer. It’s almost too much, yet at the same you know he’s still holding back as if he’s afraid that this is all just a fever dream.

“Seungmin, please.”

“Mhmm?” he tries to speak against your lips, hazy eyes gazing into yours.

“More,” you breathe out, determined to make him let go and kiss you the way he wishes to although you’re blushing like mad. “I’m not going anywhere, so just kiss me.”

“You sure?” he mutters, eyes waiting for your approval.

You close your eyes again, and right that moment you feel Seungmin’s lips move against yours. This time, he lets go. Hovering over you, he pours all the feelings he had suppressed for years into the kiss. You’re soon lost in all the love and passion he has for you, his every touch eating your skin alive. You’re lost in Seungmin, Seungmin, Seungmin and you hope he knows you feel the same.

“Stay still!” you yelp, fixing Seungmin’s mask as the limousine stops in front of the ballroom where the party is held. Mr. Song, Seungmin’s chauffeur, opens the door for both of you. You start to panic upon seeing reporters snapping photos of other guests entering the ballroom. Seungmin steps out, looking like His Royal Highness from a reputable kingdom.

He extends his hand to you. “Come on, love. Jisu and the others are already inside.”

The sound of shutters and the blinding flashes almost make you shut the door and tell Mr. Song to drive you home, but Seungmin reaches for your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. “I’m here. You’ll be alright.”

Gathering some courage, you finally set your foot on the ground. Seungmin helps you with a gentle smile he knows will calm you down. He leads you inside, holding your hand a little tighter whenever someone seems to make you uncomfortable.

You spot Jisu from the gold feathery mask she showed you the night before and her signature high ponytail. A redheaded boy joined her with a drink in his hand, and you know for sure that it’s Felix. Everything at this party is grand, and by grand you mean people with diamond-studded dresses, a huge orchestra group, extravagant chandeliers, ice statues, and all kinds of foods and drinks you know absolutely nothing about.

“You okay?” Seungmin asks, releasing your hand to take a slice of chocolate cake that the waiter offers before handing it to you. Jisu squeals at the cake, taking the same cake from the waiter. You look at her in awe as she digs in right away. “How do you eat that at a place like this?” you hiss, earning a laugh from Felix.

“We’re here to enjoy ourselves, darling. Eat up!” he encourages you. You turn to Seungmin, who gives you a spoon. “Why? You love chocolate.”

You take a glance of everyone around you, nobody is eating. They’re either dancing or laughing or drinking. “Do you guys usually eat? Or are you doing this to make me comfortable?”

“We’re not some dukes and duchess Y/N. Wait, even dukes and duchess eat at parties. Shut up and enjoy your cake!” Jisu deadpans with a full mouth, causing you to laugh and do the same. Seungmin keeps his hand on the small of your back all the time, making sure you’re okay. After finishing your cake, he pulls you to the dance floor.

“No Seungmin, I’m not dancing with you,” you yell at him. Seungmin pretends not to hear you, his eyes glint with mischief. He puts your arms around his neck, then his own around your waist. You thank the heavens for the slow music because the last time you danced was in the second grade. Seungmin leads the dance, slowly backing you into a corner and pushes his mask up to plant a kiss on your lips.

“Been dying to do that.” He smirks at you as you glare at him, thankful that the mask is hiding your flushed cheeks. “Thank you for going with me. I know this isn’t your thing,” he adds, twirling you smoothly.

You scoff playfully, caressing his left cheek. “If you’re thankful, ride subway with me for the whole week.”

“Easy,” Seungmin, bringing your hand to his lips. “Your wish is my command, you know that, right?”

“All you need is tux and mask to become all flirty, huh? Did you dream to be a Disney prince?”

Seungmin shrugs, pulling you closer so you can rest your chin on his shoulder. The song comes to an end, switching to a more upbeat one when Seungmin’s phone vibrates. Though reluctantly, he takes the call and walks you to the water fountain near the salad bar.

“I’m at Mr. Bang’s party,” he says. “But Father—okay.”

The call ends just like that. Seungmin curses under his breath, wordlessly taking you back to where Jisu and Felix are standing. “I need to go now,” he breaks the news.

“Dude, you just arrived!” Felix protests.

“It’s my father,” Seungmin informs dryly. The redhead’s eyes become softer, and Jisu dismisses her cousin. “Don’t make him wait,” she urges him. “We’ll take care of Y/N. Who knows, she may find someone cooler than you.”

Seungmin looks at you with so much guilt, so you give him your most convincing smile. “Go. You can tell me about it later.”

After giving you one last “I’m sorry” look, he disappears into the crowd.

Felix cheers when the orchestra plays a song he knows. “Ohhh I love this song! Come on Y/N, time to rock the dance floor!”

As you’re about to pull Jisu along with you, Mr. Song walks toward you. He stops, bowing at the three of you. “Miss Y/N, Young Master asked me to take you.”

“Why? I thought Seungmin is meeting his father?”

“He does have some things to take care of, and you’ve been requested to join him.”

You glance at Jisu and Felix who tense at Mr. Song’s news. “Is this bad? What happened?” you try to ask, but Mr. Song only waits for you.

“It’s okay.” Felix rubs your shoulders. “Go with him.”

You nod. “See you guys later.”

Mr. Song guides you out like he knows the building by heart. Once you’re back inside the limousine, he enters the driver’s seat. “Is everything alright, Mr. Song?”

The old man smiles. “Young Master Seungmin is a very nice boy. He has clear goals and works hard to achieve them. And he wants to make you, especially, happy.”

He stops in front of an abandoned warehouse. You open the door before he does, taking off your heels while he holds the door for you. “Just give him a chance,” he says.

You quicken your pace when you hear someone scream. Peeking inside, you spot at least 10 men dressed in all-black surrounding a man who’s sitting on a chair, his hands tied and eyes blindfolded. Blood oozing from several parts of his body, his face completely bruised.

You look back to where Mr. Song is, but he only gestures at you to come inside. You slide the door a bit more to squeeze yourself in, looking up when you hear a familiar voice.

It’s Seungmin, swinging a baseball bat in his hand, his dress shirt stained with blood. “This will be the last time I ask you,” he hisses, sounding nothing like the Seungmin you know. “Tell me where the Hwangs’ secret hideout is. If not, I’m afraid I’ll have to change my weapon with something more impactful.”

One of the men hands him a gun. Seungmin takes it to the hostage, loading it near his ear. “I-I’ll tell you! Please spare me!”

The hostage goes on to provide all information that Seungmin needs. He swings his bat once again, hitting the hostage’s waist before throwing it again. You’re frozen to your spot, the whole event unfolding right before you feels like a stab on your heart. Seungmin runs his hand through his disheveled hair, then notices you standing there.

“What the fuck Y/N what are you doing here?!” he yells, voice shaky and raspy. Seungmin quickly turns around to his people, pointing at the hostage who’s lost his consciousness. “Take him away,” he commands lowly. “You’re all dismissed.”

The men drag the hostage’s body and leave the place quietly. Now, it’s just you and him facing each other. Seungmin is about to take your hand in his, but decides to stop himself when he realizes that they’re covered in blood.

“Did Mr. Song drive you here?”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Your body shakes as you involuntary recall how Seungmin beat the hostage up. The look in his eyes, his emotionless voice, the way he swung his bat without hesitation.

“What are you, Kim Seungmin?” you quiver, taking a step further from him. You need to get out, you need to be anywhere but here. You need something, anything that can make you forget what you just witnessed.

“Please,” Seungmin pleads. “Please Y/N. I’ll tell you everything. Please listen to me.”

“This is what you’ve been trying to hide from me? The fact that you torture people to get what you want?!”

Seungmin eventually grabs your hands, begging you to look at him. “I’m looking for other ways, love,” he utters. “But for now I have to do whatever my father says. His words are law, but I’ve vowed to myself that it won’t be like this for too long. I’ll stop him.”

You swat his hands away. “For years you made me think that we couldn’t be together because I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, that no matter what I did I would never be good enough, that I would never be able to fit in. It turns out you’re just saving yourself, aren’t you Kim Seungmin? You only care about yourself!”

“How am I supposed to tell you that this is me, Y/N? How am I supposed to tell you that this is how my family lives? Would you—,” he pauses, wiping his tear-stained cheeks. “Would you even spare me a glance if you knew that I’m no better than a murderer?!”

“That’s up to me to decide!” you shout. “You don’t get to make decisions for me, Seungmin, but you didn’t even give me a choice in the first place!”

When he runs out of words to say, you force your body to turn around, exiting the warehouse with your last bit of strength left. Mr. Song is waiting for you, your heels ready for you to wear. You slip into them, refusing to look into his eyes when he offers you help.

You feel Seungmin’s eyes on you as you walk away. Even after what happened, you can’t help but return his gaze. He looks broken and lost—on other days, you would have run to him and took him into your arms.

But now is not the time, no matter how desperate you are for answers. You turn on your heels, your heart shattering into pieces as you remember the question Seungmin asked you in Busan.

“Do you trust me?”

Jisu’s maid pushes a trolley full of snacks and drinks into her room. You politely refuse everything, but your friend pours herself a glass of champagne, chugging it down in one go. She lets out a dejected sigh once the maid leaves the room, glancing at you warily.

“I’m so, sorry Y/N,” she whispers. “I can’t believe his father did that to you.”

“Did he really send me there so I could see Seungmin like that? And you knew about this?”

“I didn’t!” Jisu exclaims. “I mean, I do get the gist what his father does, but I never knew it was that bad. And I didn’t know he asked Seungmin to do all the dirty deeds himself. That man and his greed.”

Jisu sits beside you. “The way Seungmin’s family runs the law firm changed since his father took over,” she explains. “I guess this is why he wins every single case now. He does literally everything to win, and he expects Seungmin to do things his way later.”

“Has Seungmin ever told you this?”

“No,” she mumbles. “I know Seungmin’s been stressed high school, but I never knew this was the reason. He’s seeing his therapist almost every day, Y/N. I thought you would help him and vice versa. I know the two of you have liked each other since forever. I’m sorry.”

You wrap your arms around her. “You’ve been nothing but sweet to us. You, Felix, Chan… you guys are my everything.”

“How about Seungmin?” Jisu starts sobbing. “I’ll respect your decision whatever it is, but what are you going to do now?”

You try to clear your mind, imagining how you and Seungmin will be if you live without each other. Will you be able to bear the unimaginable pain? Will he?

“Jisu, do you know if Seungmin’s parents are home?”

“No, they’re in Paris with my Mom.”

“Then can you drive me to his place?”

The Kim family butler takes you to Seungmin’s bedroom. He knocks the door, waiting for a while before opening it when nobody answers. The big room is empty, but the attic ladder is pulled down. “Young Master likes to spend his time in the attic. He probably fell asleep there,” the butler says.

You nod, thanking him before climbing up. The attic is neat and warm, with Seungmin’s photos decorating the walls. Several dog plushies are placed on a small wooden rack, while some get special spots near his mattress.

You lie down beside him, taking a good look of his sleeping form. He’s no longer covered in blood (which definitely makes things easier for you), and his steady breathing calms you down within seconds. You wonder how it feels like having to sacrifice everything in order to have everything. You think about how Seungmin wakes up in fear everyday, waiting for his father’s cruel orders.

“Y/N?”

Seungmin blinks at you, squinting to make sure that it’s really you. “Hi. Your butler let me in.”

He scrambles to get up, but you stop him. “Lie down. You must be tired.”

You scoot closer to him, feeling his body tense up when you circle your arms around his torso. “You can tell me everything now.”

Seungmin begins his story, explaining how his father never says no to clients, no matter how impossible their cases are to win. He often works with his clients to eliminate everyone in their way, using any methods possible. When Seungmin started high school, his father told him to watch how the law firm worked, and eventually forced him to do things by himself so he would “toughen up” and “understand how business works.”

“Mr. Song has been helping me form plans to end this. He’s Father’s most trusted person, so he knows everything. I still do fact checks, of course. I’m trying to be as careful as possible. I’m trying to take down my own father, and if I take even a step wrong, it’ll be over for Mother and I.”

You sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you pat his back softly. Seungmin keeps his hands to his side the whole time, afraid to cross the line although you’re glued to him.

“Father has ears everywhere Y/N. He probably knows how serious I am with you and wanted to test you. I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”

“Test me?”

“Yeah. Whoever decides to stay with me after knowing everything will earn his approval.”

“Has anybody else gone through that?”

“No,” he answers. “Believe it or not, you’re my first girlfriend.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Believe it or not? Of course I do, it’s obvious that you had no dating experience!”

“Y/N,” he calls out. “You’re here to say goodbye, right?”

Seungmin has pulled you away, sitting up and waiting for you to do the same. “It’s okay. If I were you, I’d be so disgusted at myself too. Don’t think about me, just think about what’s best for you.”

“You never… killed anyone, right?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll never do that. You have my words.”

“I trust you, Seungmin,” you state. “I asked myself again and again, but my answer remains the same. You’re not a bad person and I trust you. I know you by heart, and I’ll love you as long as I can.”

You wish you could promise only boy you’ve ever loved an eternal love—it sounds beautiful, something that lasts forever. But you know better than to give Seungmin empty promises. He’ll probably break your heart if life doesn’t allow him to change his world, but you’re willing to take the risk.

Seungmin releases the breath he seemed to be holding for the past few minutes. “That’s my girl,” he praises. “That’s all I could ask for.”

“Let’s only think about now, okay? You’re not alone anymore, you have me.”

You cup his cheeks and capture him in a loving kiss, basking in the warmth of his body when he scoops you into his arms. Seungmin’s gestures still feel hesitant, but you convince him with every kiss, with every sweet word you utter against his lips until he finally melts and kisses you harder, each kiss more ardent than before.

“You’re never lacking in my eyes, don’t forget that,” Seungmin tells you, enunciating each word clearly so you’ll let it sink in. “You’ve always been more than enough. Everything I could ask for.”

You only grin, pecking his swollen lips one more time before allowing yourself to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat.

Both of you let your own images of the future loom over you for so long, feeding yourselves with doubt and fear.

Now it’s time to let go.  

more a/n: i spent a long time writing this, i hope this is still good and not boring! i’m happy that my first story in 2020 is for seungmin. the ending is somewhat bittersweet, but it was the only option that felt right to me.  

[jisungshotfirst]

Levanter anon: wait what

(for context I do not have Spotify)

Hybe... why...

okay i just re-listened putting All my aural skills to the test my tutors would be so proud :') and what I'm pretty sure is up with it is that the mv on yt isn't in stereo. which FUCK HYBE coz what??

basically sound can be projected either through mono or stereo - stereo being sound with left + right ears and therefore a more surround sound. putting things in mono these days is a Choice that you should make for artistic purposes because the quality is not as good as the stereo we r used to. and so what i'm pretty sure has happened is the mv doesn't have this surround sound - therefore has the same sound quality as it i was playing it out of my phone speakers instead of my stereo earphones. it won't be as noticeable on certain devices because of the difference in speakers but i was caught so off guard because i had been listening to other songs with high sound quality and then was suddenly stripped of the stereo sound with baekho's <//3

ANYWAY fuck hybe - if this was a mistake it's a rly stupid one. could they show that they care less about nu'est if they tried :/

[amostexcellentblog]

Classic Movies for Beginners: Case File #3: The MGM Musicals

The world is a stage, The stage is a world of entertainment!

Director(s): Vincente Minnelli; Stanley Donen; Charles Walters; and Others

Starring: (Deep Breath) Judy Garland; Fred Astaire; Gene Kelly; Cyd Charisse; Debbie Reynolds; Donald O’Connor; Frank Sinatra; Jane Powell; many more.

Watch if You Like: Musicals. Seriously, the MGM musicals still define the genre in the popular imagination. So even if you’ve never seen one (and you have seen one, The Wizard of Oz) you’re probably familiar with the style. Almost every recent hit movie musical--La La Land, Hairspray, The Greatest Showman, High School Musical--was shaped in some way by the bright technicolor sweetness of these movies. So if you’re a fan of any of those films, a theater geek, or just curious about what the movie musical was like at its peak, enjoy.

Since I could talk for days about these movies, I’ve decided to just do a quick list of the 10 most essential titles There are, of course, many other musicals from the studio that are worth a watch, but I’m trying to control myself.

Singin’ in the Rain (1952): Everyone’s favorite musical! In case you’ve been living under a rock: Don Lockwood (Kelly) is a silent movie star famous for his films with shrill-voiced Lina Lamont (Jean Hagen). Talkies seem poised to ruin them until his pal Cosmo (O’Connor) gives him the idea to do a musical with his girlfriend (Reynolds) dubbing Lina’s voice. No summary can ever capture what makes this movie such a complete joy to watch. Every song, every dance, every performance is just flawlessly executed to put a great big smile on your face. It’s one of the few movies that deserves to be called perfect.

Meet Me in St. Louis (1944): A year in the life of the Smith family in 1903 St. Louis, the year the world’s fair came to town. There are four daughters, second-eldest Esther (Garland) is on the cusp of adulthood, starry-eyed, and filled with young love for the boy next door (Tom Drake). Youngest is Tootie (Margaret O’Brien), mischievous and morbidly fascinated by death in a way only an innocent child can be. Father (Leon Ames) gets a job in New York, a move that threatens the family’s fragile innocence. Will they go? 

Minimalist plot doesn’t sound like much, but it’s actually a great coming-of-age movie. Beneath its nostalgic sheen there are some darker moments that deal frankly with the loss of innocence that comes with growing up. Garland debuts “The Trolley Song” and the holiday standard “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” which she sings with a more heartbreaking style than you’re likely to hear now. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas, now...” she sings, as if you might never have another chance to. Appreciate innocence while you have it, the movie says, it can be taken away so easily.

The Band Wagon (1953): Washed up movie star Tony Hunter, (Astaire) heads to Broadway to star in a musical comedy written by his friends (Oscar Levant and Nanette Fabray), but they make the mistake of hiring a snooty director of dramas who promptly turns it into a heavy handed Faust adaptation. Tony is unsure of this, as well as the much younger ballerina (Cyd Charisse) hired to be his leading lady. The official favorite musical of people who think it’s too mainstream to pick Singin’ in the Rain. The satire of high art and low art can get heavy handed, and the movie’s ultimate assertion that Broadway musicals are meant to be light comedy is hopelessly dated in the era of Next to Normal and Spring Awakening. It’s real charms lie in the dances, from the joyful hoofing of "Shine on Your Shoes" to the simple romance of "Dancing in the Dark."

On the Town (1949): Three sailors (Kelly, Sinatra, Jules Munshin) on 24 hour leave in New York, New York (I hear it’s a wonderful town) find love and hijinks as they pursue a beauty contest winner (Vera-Ellen) across the city after one of them falls in love at first sight. Along for the ride are Betty Garret as their cab driver, and Ann Miller as a boy crazy anthropologist. Adapted from a Broadway hit, much of Leonard Bernstein’s score was replaced with original music for some reason (censors also required the lyric “New York, New York it’s a helluva town” be changed to “it’s a wonderful town.”) Fortunately, that doesn’t make it any less of a delight, with a perfect cast and great choreography celebrating the limitless possibilities of the city.

Easter Parade (1948): When his dance partner (Ann Miller) leaves him, Don Hewes (Astaire) plucks a girl out of the chorus (Garland) and sets out to make her a star. Shades of George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion (nobody tell Lerner and Loewe), with Peter Lawford in the Freddy role and a slew of Irving Berlin tunes along for the ride. The only movie Astaire and Garland made together, and it’s a fascinating pairing of the most carefree (onscreen anyway) musical star and the least. Astaire was rarely paired with singing stars (as opposed to dancers), and Garland was a bigger star than he was when this movie shot. As a result her character gets more solo numbers and feels more independent of Astaire’s than usual. On the flip side, Astaire does a better job at holding his own opposite Garland than most of her leading men. It’s a shame they never made another movie together as their chemistry makes the film.

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954): Mountain man Howard Keel ventures into an old west town one day looking for a wife to play housekeeper. He finds one (Powell), who falls in love at first sight and marries him dreaming of a romantic life in the wilderness. He didn’t mention they’d be living with his unruly brothers. Fortunately she manages to tame them enough to go to town for a barn raising. That’s when the trouble starts, each brother meets and falls for a girl from town. After an iconic dance-off with their fiances, the brothers end up kidnapping the women for the winter, which does not go over well. 

Look, this is not as sexist as its sounds. This is not a Stockholm Syndrome thing, the narrative does not condone the kidnapping, the men are banished to the barn by Powell so nobody’s pressured to do anything, and if you look at the end of the barn raising dance you see that the women do initially to choose the brothers on their own free will, before their parents intervene. The movie ultimately comes down on the side of equal power dynamics in relationships. Anyway, the dancing in this movie is incredible. Watch it for that if nothing else.

The Harvey Girls (1946): Desperate to get out of her small town, Susan Bradley (Garland) moves west to marry her lonely-hearts pen pal. That falls through, so she gets a job as a waitress at the Harvey House, a (real) restaurant chain catering to train passengers. A lot of the town’s men don’t want the ladies there, because the chain’s strict moral standards has a reputation for civilizing wild west towns. Nevertheless, they persisted. The town is cleaned up, and the waitresses find true love. Great showcase for Garland’s comedic and dramatic skills. The movie’s slyly feminist defense of a woman’s right to see the world beyond her back yard and the boy next door, as well as its emphasis on female friendships, make up for a bland male lead and awkward third act. (A proper big final number was shot, but deleted for time so the whole thing kinda peters out.)

Lili (1953): Barely a musical, but it has one song and two dance sequences that are key to developing the characters and plot, so it counts. Recently orphaned Lili (Leslie Caron) is all alone and naïve about the ways of the world. She is charmed by a womanizing magician in a traveling carnival. After he rebuffs her affections she attempts suicide, but is stopped at the last minute by the carnival’s puppeteer, Paul (Mel Ferrer), who strikes up a conversation through his puppets. Lili’s natural interaction with the puppets attracts a crowd and she is made part of the act. Paul was once a great dancer whose career was ended by a war injury, lonely and embittered he is drawn to Lili’s soft heart but is unable to express his affection for her without his puppets. Touching story about the walls we build to protect ourselves from hurt, and the necessity of letting them down. Caron’s performance is incredible, it’s like she walked out of a fairy tale.

The Pirate (1948): Manuela (Garland) lives in a small Caribbean village and spends her days fantasizing of adventure and romance with the legendary pirate Macoco, so she’s heartbroken to learn she’s to marry the town’s boring mayor, Don Pedro. On a trip to the port to pick up her wedding dress she is spotted by traveling actor Serafin (Kelly), who falls instantly in love. She is unimpressed with his charms so he pretends to be Macoco in disguise to win her over. Mistaken identity hijinks ensue when he shows up in her hometown and realizes her boring fiance is actually the retired Macoco. This never takes off the way it should. Between the stars, the director (Minnelli), and original Cole Porter songs this should be a home run. Frustratingly, the story never comes together as well as it should, Manuela starts to feel like a supporting player in the second half which throws the whole movie off balance. Still, there are some great songs and dances, and the movie does manage to say a few interesting things about who we are versus who we pretend to be in life.

Royal Wedding (1951): Sibling song-and-dance team (Astaire and Powell) heads to England to perform in a new show against the backdrop of the upcoming wedding of Princess Elizabeth and Philip Mountbatten, Duke of Edinburgh (what ever happened to those two?) While there both of them find themselves falling in love. Her with a penniless Lord (Peter Lawford), him with a newly engaged dancer (Sarah Churchill, daughter of Winston). This is primarily for Astaire fans who get to see two of his most famous dances. One with a hat rack, proving he could dance with anything, the other where he dances on the wall and ceiling of his room thanks to some clever practical effects.

[4lyeskas]

hablar del amor, y defenderlo

read it on AO3 SERIES: Yuri!!! On Ice PAIRING: Otabek Altin x Yuri Plisetsky RATING: T  TAGS: post-canon, post wttm skate, hurt/comfort, mentions of injury, 5+1

an otayuri 5+1 // commissioned by @rainlikestars // @otayuriwriterscollective

¿quién puede hablar del amor y defenderlo? ¡que levante la mano, por favor!

1.

The first time, they’re not even together yet.

Yuri is in Almaty for a visit, a change of pace. After the exhibition skate fiasco and ahead of Worlds, Lilia has become much stricter about his choreography, while Yuri has become more stubborn about he wants to do for himself. Viktor was the one who’d convinced Yakov to let Yuri take a short break, cool his head.

Yuri doesn’t like being indebted to Viktor, but he’s grateful, however reluctantly. Getting to visit Otabek is a very welcome bonus.

Otabek is accommodating, happy to have Yuri in his home city. He’s lightened his training schedule as much as he can (although with both Four Continents and Worlds coming up, it’s not all that much lighter), takes Yuri around the city at night. Otabek’s family takes to Yuri immediately, showering him in extra food and affection. Yuri even gets to skate in Otabek’s rink, working on his quad flip.

It makes Yuri feel worse about the agitation that gnaws at his ribs, his lungs.

He doesn’t even know why. He’s here in Almaty, he’s with Otabek; he’s away from Lilia and Yakov and their nagging, away from Viktor’s overbearing concern and Yuuri’s overly sincere consideration. But whenever he and Otabek go out, Yuri is anxious and self-conscious; whenever Otabek smiles at him, asks him how he feels, if he’s okay, Yuri gets flustered. There’s a lump in his throat that refuses to go away. It’s driving him crazy.

It’s when they come across some friends of Otabek that Yuri snaps. It’s Otabek’s day off, they’re meandering through a commercial area near Otabek’s home. An unfamiliar voice rings over the chatter of the city, drawing their attention.

“Beshka!” Otabek reacts first, turning around with a big smile; Yuri feels a flash of irritation in his chest. There’s a group of boys, four of them, weaving through the crowd towards them. They arrive and start chatting in -- Yuri’s not sure, it sounds like an odd mix of Russian and Kazakh, but he can’t understand a thing and it’s pissing him off.

It’s a while before they notice Yuri standing there, glaring. One of them breaks off with a surprised look and smiles apologetically, says something to Yuri. Otabek puts a hand on Yuri’s shoulder, gives him a quick smile, then turns back to his friend.

“Russian, please, Maxim,” he says with a laugh.

“Oh, sorry, sorry!” The boy - Maxim - beams at Yuri. The others are looking at him curiously, shooting each other unreadable glances that only vex Yuri even more. Maxim throws an arm around Yuri’s shoulder and smirks. “And you are?”

Yuri shrugs the arm off with no gentleness and huffs. “Leaving,” he snaps, storming off the way they came.

“Hey, what--” Yuri doesn’t want to hear. He takes off running, missing the way Otabek calls after him, the way the boys exchange concerned looks.

Otabek still catches up with him a few blocks away.

“Yura,” he says sharply, grabbing Yuri’s wrist to stop him from heading off again. Yuri twists his arm petulantly and stomps his foot.

“Let me go.”

“No.” Otabek is searching his face, frowning. The way he holds Yuri’s wrist, his expression, it makes Yuri feel like some problem child who’s being patronized and scolded. He hates it. “Yuri, what happened?”

“I’m pissed off, okay!” he yells. Startled, Otabek lets go of his hand; Yuri hugs his arms to his chest and stares at the ground.

“Why?” Otabek asks. “They’re my friends, Yura, of course they want to talk to me.”

The resentment is climbing up Yuri’s throat and he hates it. “I know,” he mutters, hunching up further. This, whatever it is, it frustrates him. He can’t explain why.

They stand there for a moment, in a side alley that smells vaguely of lamb and smoke, Yuri looking at his shoes and Otabek looking at Yuri.

“Yura--”

Yuri cuts him off. “I’m done,” he says quickly, spinning on his heel and walking back in the direction of Otabek’s home. “I’m going back to Russia on the earliest flight, I can’t do this anymore.”

“What--” Otabek catches up with him again and this time actually blocks his way, standing in front of him (and fuck this, Yuri may be getting taller but Otabek is still bigger and in his way). He takes Yuri by the shoulders, trying to get Yuri to look at him, but Yuri won’t meet his eyes.

“Yura,” Otabek says softly, in a voice that makes something twist in Yuri’s chest. “Are you--” He hesitates. Yuri scrunches his face up. Otabek seems to be weighing his words carefully, uncertainly. He purses his lips, then looks at Yuri with an oddly tight expression. “Are you... jealous?”

Yuri’s eyes widen; his next inhale is sharp and painful.  He jerks away from Otabek even as he feels the heat in his cheeks, the chill in his lungs. “No,” he says breathlessly, adamantly, but the lie is obvious. “No--”

Otabek takes Yuri’s hands in his, holds tight despite Yuri’s protests and -- Yuri’s breath catches as Otabek presses Yuri’s palms to his chest, over a quick and nervous  heartbeat. One hand moves to card through Yuri’s hair, gentle as every other thing Otabek does with Yuri.

“Kotyonok,” Otabek says, and there’s a laugh lurking in the word. Yuri is still looking down. “There was never a need for you to be.”

Yuri’s hands close into fists, scrunching the front of Otabek’s shirt. He leans forward, pressing his forehead into Otabek’s shoulder. His friend just stands there and lets him, still stroking Yuri’s hair.

After a moment, Otabek asks, “still leaving?”

Yuri sniffs, shakes his head.

“No.”

2.

It’s not a good season for Yuri.

It was always going to be difficult to follow up his debut performances -- gold in the GPF, with  a world-record short program score; bronze at Euros; silver at both the Russian Championships and Worlds behind Viktor Nikiforov -- but Yuri is still frustrated, still angry, still desperately disappointed. When he finishes fifth in the Grand Prix Finals, a full twelve points behind Otabek in third, the feeling of failure threatens to drown him.

He stands through the awarding ceremony with shoulders back and head high in defiance, eyes firmly forward. He ignores JJ and the stupid silver medal around his neck; Chris and his stupidly teary eyes as he kisses his gold; Yuuri, who still has consolatory smiles for Yuri even if Yuuri himself had finished sixth although he’d scored well.

(Viktor, despite finishing fourth and not being on the podium for the first time in over a decade, is chattering happily with everyone and laughing. It makes something dark and ugly twist in Yuri’s gut.)

They all head back to the hotel to prepare for tonight’s banquet and tomorrow’s exhibition skate, and nobody notices that Yuri has disappeared.

Otabek gets the text while he’s looking for his suspenders.

> i can’t do this. i’m done,  you can go, it’s been real, goodbye

It’s a very Yuri text. Otabek looks at it, feels something cold and hollow in his chest. Reads and re-reads the words and forces himself not to panic.

Yuri is probably angry, resentful. He’d finished fifth, he’s disappointed, he doesn’t want to see people celebrating and congratulating when he feels like he’s failed. Even if he’s just seventeen, he doesn’t want to slip up, no matter how many people tell him he has room to make mistakes and grow.

(He’s still overshadowed by Viktor Nikiforov’s legacy, the way it hounds his performances; he fights and ends up trying too hard to escape it, hammering at the walls of the box that people have put him into against his will, to try and break them.)

Otabek looks for the key to Yuri’s room, and hesitates only a moment before heading over.

Yuri’s not in the bedroom.

His skate costume and team jacket are tossed onto the floor; the costume looks particularly badly crumpled. A lot of Yuri’s things are scattered across the room, though nothing seems broken.

Otabek finds him in the bathroom, sitting in the unfilled tub, hunched up in an oversized grey hoodie and a pair of tights. He has his chin on his arms, staring at the opposite wall with blank eyes. He’s terrifyingly still.

With careful footsteps, Otabek makes his way to the side of the tub and kneels down beside it. “Yura?” he asks softly, and then, “zvezdochko, are you with me?”

Slowly, Yuri’s eyes focus, flick over to Otabek, who can see the moment they recognize him -- those green eyes tighten, shutter, painfully. Yuri hugs himself tighter, as if trying to make himself small.

(And like this, he looks so unbearably hurt, and so young.)

“Yura,” Otabek says again, but this time not in asking. It’s one word, simple, rolling easy off his tongue; a quiet affirmation that Otabek is here, with him.

Yuri unfolds a little, drops his hands to his lap, hangs his head. Otabek waits.

A tiny, broken voice: “I lost.”

(Otabek wants to do anything to get rid of the way that voice shakes, get rid of of the sadness.)

Yuri inhales, exhales, curls further into himself. Says again, “I lost.”

“You did.” Otabek acknowledges the pain. Then he reaches out, cups Yuri’s face from under the fringe of hair that’s fallen over it. Says, “you are still more than enough.”

For a moment, they simply sit there, and then Otabek hears the wetness in Yuri’s breathing, feels something damp on his palm. Yuri tips his head, leaning into Otabek’s touch; hiding his face with his hair. His breaths come in muffled, hiccuping sobs.

“Yura.” This time, Otabek climbs into the tub with him, and almost before he’s settled in, Yuri’s thrown himself at Otabek, face pressed into Otabek’s dress shirt. His sobs get louder; his shoulders shake. His hands are clenched around fabric, crumpling it, but Otabek doesn’t care. He just gathers this beautiful, imperfect boy in his arms, and presses his cheek into sunshine hair, and lets Yuri cry.

(Otabek skips the banquet, spends the night in Yuri’s room. Yuri sleeps curled against him, one ankle slipped between both of his. Yuri also wakes up first; he’s lying on Otabek’s shoulder when Otabek wakes up, tracing idle circles on his friend’s chest.

Otabek takes his hand, kisses the palm, smiles. Yuri’s eyes are still red, and he looks so tired, but he smiles back.)

3.

It’s finally the off-season. Otabek is in St. Petersburg to attend a two-week training camp held by Yakov in tandem with the newly-retired Viktor, who is surprisingly serious about this whole endeavor. Instead of booking a hotel, he’s taken Yuri up on his offer to stay at his apartment. And for a time, it’s comfortable. Otabek cooks in lieu of payment, and Yuri’s delighted to find that Otabek is excellent in the kitchen. Potya already likes Otabek well enough, but it’s Otabek, so Yuri thinks it’s understandable.

Still, Yuri is careful not to be too close, keeps a wary distance. He’s still not quite sure what they are, this odd limbo of friends and lovers and something in between, and the uncertainty makes him cautious. But he wants to figure it out together, and for now he’s happy enough laughing with Otabek in his living room while they look up videos of the coaches back in their skating days (Celestino Cialdini is a pleasant surprise). If they touch less, if he stays a little apart, well, he doesn’t think it’s that big a deal.

But on a Tuesday, after a particularly difficult session on jumps, Yuri emerges from the shower to see that Otabek hasn’t started on dinner. Instead, he’s sitting in the middle of the bedroom they’re sharing (Yuri on the bed, Otabek on the floor) and staring at his open suitcase.

“Beka?” Yuri calls curiously. He tosses his towel onto his desk chair, frowns.

“I was thinking,” Otabek says, and then he pauses. There’s a shirt in his hands, half-folded. “Maybe I should leave.”

Yuri feels like he’s been slapped. “What?”

“It’s.” There’s a sharp edge to Otabek’s shoulders, his arms, his jaw. Yuri doesn’t like it. As if sensing his distress, Potya miaows and curls around his ankles, presses against his shin. Otabek sighs. “It feels like -- you don’t exactly want me here.”

“Why would I not?” Yuri’s confused, and upset, and a little scared.

For a moment, Otabek says nothing, and the tension in the room threatens to suffocate Yuri. Then Otabek turns his head, meets Yuri’s eyes with a sincerity so forceful it knocks the breath from Yuri’s lungs.

“I like you,” Otabek says, straightforward and simple. Yuri’s heart stutters in his chest. “I love you, Yuri, and if you don’t feel the same way then I’ll need to leave because I can’t--”

He doesn’t get to say what he can’t, because Yuri has bolted across the room and thrown his arms around Otabek’s shoulders, buried his face in the crook of Otabek’s neck. His whole body is shaking as he presses against Otabek so hard they’re in danger of toppling over.

“Don’t you dare,” he bites out, and his fingers dig so hard into Otabek’s back that it hurts. “Don’t you dare, you can’t leave, you can’t, I won’t let you.”

“Yuri--”

“No.” The word is loud, anxious, cracked. “Don’t you dare, Beka, you can’t, I-- I--” Yuri can’t get it out; the words keep getting stuck in his throat. He pulls away, scrabbling for Otabek’s hands. Presses them shakily to his chest, where his heart is thudding fast and frightened.

(He remembers Otabek and these same actions, more than a year ago, in a side street in Almaty. He hopes desperately that Otabek will understand.)

Otabek looks at their hands, at the way Yuri’s tremble even as he holds Otabek’s so tightly.

He could almost laugh with the relief and the happiness that crashes down on him.

Carefully, he leans forward so their foreheads touch. They’re both starting to cry. They’re also so very bad at this -- at this thing between them.

“Okay,” Otabek says, and his voice has a laugh. Yuri hiccups one of his own, and then he’s back in Otabek’s arms and they’re lying on the floor in a tangle of limbs. Otabek looks at Yuri and thinks that he’s never been so beautiful.

“Okay.”

4.

They’re in the living room of Otabek’s home, on the floor and leaning against the couch. Otabek is trying to read a book. Yuri has his phone out and is scrolling through Instagram, head on Otabek’s shoulder, occasionally holding out his phone to show a funny picture or make a comment on someone’s post. JJ actually has a throwback one of him and Otabek from their Canada days; Otabek’s haircut is awful, and JJ is wearing the ugliest shirt Yuri has ever seen.

“I’m sure you’ve worn something you thought was cool at the time but now consider horrible,” Otabek chides. He’s just about ready to give up on getting any reading done, if Yuri’s going to keep interrupting (not that Otabek truly minds). Yuri glances up, looking absolutely offended.

“Of course not,” he declares. His fashion sense is amazing. Especially his shoes.

Otabek just raises his eyebrows and looks at him.

“Shut up,” Yuri says, aghast, even if Otabek hasn’t said anything. He elbows Otabek in the side, and Otabek just grins. He takes the phone from Yuri, looks closely at the post. JJ’s captioned it kings of style!!! and hashtagged it into oblivion, including #partnersinfashioncrime. It makes him laugh.

“Ugh.” Yuri wrinkles his nose, swiping his phone back and scrolling past (but not before hitting the double tap). Otabek pokes him in the ribs; Yuri squirms.

“We looked good,” Otabek retorts, smirking. Yuri rolls his eyes.

“Why don’t I just break up with you so you can get with JJ and look good together then,” he snipes, although there’s no real heat.

“Hmmm.” Otabek presses a finger to his lips in mock-consideration, and Yuri smacks him with a pillow from the couch. Otabek laughs again, pulls Yuri closer, kisses him.

“I like looking good with you,” he says between kisses. Yuri huffs, blushes, calls him an idiot, but kisses him back anyway.

5.

Otabek purses his lips and thinks, it is not going to be a good season.

It’s September. He’s just come back from training and a particularly painful session, and he’s thinking. He’s in Russia for a few weeks, cross-training at Yakov’s rink among other things. He’s back in Yuri’s apartment, although this time there’s no mattress on the floor. His black zip-up hoodie is missing, presumably stolen by a little stray cat with golden hair.

(It’s his favorite pet name for Yuri, even if Yuri turns red and indignant whenever he uses it. But it suits him, with his brash affection and the way he refuses to answer to anyone, the way he’s weak to genuine care, the way he warms up to people.)

His phone is on the bed, open to a message thread with his coach. There’s a drawer in one of Yuri’s closets that holds his things, so his own suitcase doesn’t contain much. He needs to get started on dinner. Yuri’s extra training with Viktor should have ended a short while ago.

The door to the apartment opens with a bang, and slams shut just as loudly.

It startles Otabek, just like the angry footsteps like thunderclaps through the living room -- Yuri hasn’t even taken off his shoes. The door to the bedroom bursts open and Yuri is striding up to him with fury written all over his face.

“When the fuck were you going to tell me?” he yells, right up in Otabek’s face.

Otabek answers, eloquently, “what?”

Yuri stares at him in disbelief, then shoves him back, hard. “What the fuck, Beka?” He’s so angry he’s shaking. Otabek thinks he knows what this is about, he’s been dreading it, but that’s impossible, Yuri shouldn’t know, not yet, Yuri -- “You withdrew from the Olympics and you didn’t fucking tell me?”

Otabek closes his eyes, takes an unsteady breath to brace himself. It only pisses Yuri off even more.

“I had to find out from Viktor, of all people, he asked how I felt and if I’d be okay to compete. Do you know how humiliating it was to stand there and hear from someone else that you weren’t going? When the fuck did you even decide that?”

“Yuri--”

“All your big fucking speeches about relying on each other and asking me to trust you with the hard stuff -- what, were you all talk? Or did you just not trust me with -- fuck, Beka, you didn’t tell me anything.”

It hurts. It hurts that Yuri is angry, is hurt, is looking at him with an expression that’s equal parts betrayed and begging Otabek to say it isn’t true. It hurts that Yuri is obviously trying not to cry and Otabek wants to take that away, make it better, but this is… his fault.

“Was your knee that bad?” There’s a crack in Yuri’s voice that makes Otabek step forward, but Yuri backs off and it makes things feel worse. “You said the physical therapy was going fine, you… you came here to train and everything, Beka, you -- why didn’t you say?”

“I was going to.” It’s a weak excuse, but Otabek -- was scared, is still scared, didn’t want Yuri to have to shoulder that burden and strain in an Olympic season. In a season meant to be a redemption from the disappointments of the one before. But he should have said, he knows, he couldn’t have put it off forever -- “there just never seemed to be a… good time.”

(Pathetic, that’s what it is, that’s what he is.)

“Well when was it going to be a good time?” Yuri throws his arms up, gesturing wildly. “A month from now? Right before the Grand Prix series? Right before the Olympics? Never?”

“No, Yura--”

“Why did I have to find out from someone else?”

“Please, Yura, just listen--”

“To what? I’ve been here this whole time, I -- I’ve been asking if you’re all right, but you just -- kept lying to me and keeping me out, what, did you not trust me enough? Was I not good enough to be included in this?”

He wants to stop the words coming out of Yuri’s mouth, the pain bleeding through every one of them. He wants to say none of this is happening. He wants this discussion to not be taking place, to not ever have to take place. But Otabek can’t get that, can only stand there helplessly without reasons as Yuri looks at him so brokenly.

“That’s not true, Yura.” Otabek’s own voice is shaking. He doesn’t know what to say, except, “I’m sorry, I just--”

“Oh you’re sorry.” Yuri’s tone goes from upset to scathing in seconds. He’s standing in the middle of his room, their room, they’d kissed here just this morning, woken up tangled together. Yuri’s openly crying now, tear tracks down his cheeks, breathing coming heavy and short. Otabek knows the fury and disbelief in those eyes, has seen that directed at other people. He’s never been on the receiving end; he hates it. “That’s great of you, Beka, that really is.”

Then he turns and leaves, the door slamming in Otabek’s face.

Otabek doesn’t leave the apartment. Going out to look for Yuri is useless; Yuri knows this city far better than he ever will, can hide better. He’s tried calling, but each time it rings out to voicemail, and Yuri obviously isn’t going to answer any texts. He thinks about the lamb kofta still in the freezer that he was going to cook for dinner, and sits in the living room.

When the door opens, he springs to his feet, ready to beg if needed. But it’s Mila standing there, expression tight and eyes cold.

“Yura?” Otabek asks anyway.

Mila takes a quick glance around the apartment, then looks back at Otabek. There is none of the warmth in her expression that Otabek usually associates with her, no playfulness. “You should leave,” she says in clipped tones. Before he can reply, she’s striding towards the bedroom. Otabek’s suitcase is still in one corner, and Mila drags it over to the closet where his drawer is. It makes something twist in his chest.

“Mila--”

“Viktor is furious.” She cuts him off, goes to stand by the door and looks at him pointedly. “And I am too, so I’m telling you to leave. Now. I’ll wait in the living room.”

Otabek watches her head out, then looks at the suitcase on the floor, the closet he and Yuri share. At the things that had slowly migrated into the drawer, things Yuri had borrowed and never returned, things Otabek had left and never asked for. He’s sure that if he doesn’t move, Mila is going to take care of this herself and with no gentleness.

The suitcase is full in ten minutes. Otabek feels very emptied out.

Almaty is getting colder. Otabek goes home, announces that he’s taking a break for the season, that he’s withdrawing his participation in both the Grand Prix and the Winter Olympics. The local media and skate fans are disappointed, but send him well-wishes and get-well-soons. They’d been worried this might happen, when Otabek had taken that fall during the last Worlds.

JJ calls him up just a few minutes after the news drops, even if it’s almost midnight in Canada.

“Are you okay?” his friend asks without preamble, and Otabek has never been so glad to hear JJ’s warm voice.

“I’ve had a while to accept things,” he answers honestly. It’s been a point of contention between him and his coach since Worlds; Otabek had just been too stubborn about it.

“Do you want to come out here?” There’s a rustle over the phone; JJ’s probably in bed. “The hospital affiliated with my rink is good, you could do your rehab here -- wait, no, I thought you were in St. Petersburg? What happened?”

Otabek opens his mouth, closes it. Tries to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“Beka?” JJ’s voice has softened; the nickname comes out tentative and nervous. “What happened?”

He can’t answer. There’s a photo on his desk, a small one, taken by Mila during that training camp of Yakov’s and Viktor’s. He remembers that moment, lunch at Viktor’s shared apartment with Katsuki, everyone playing games in the living room while Katsuki and Chris cooked. Yuri’s practically in Otabek’s lap while he laughs, controller held up triumphantly. Otabek knows that out of frame, Viktor will be reaching for Yuri, accusing him of cheating. Otabek himself is half-laughing, half-telling Yuri to be careful or he’ll hit someone.

He takes a shaky inhale. “I think,” and his voice cracks. “I’ll consider it.”

“Okay.” Otabek presses the phone to his ear even harder and wishes his friend were here because he could really use a hug.

Canada is even colder than Almaty, though not as much as Russia. JJ and Isabella welcome him with warm smiles and a home-cooked meal; JJ gives him the spare room, saying Isabella will be staying with her family.

Otabek stands, weight shifted to his left leg, and smiles as best as he can.

He travels with JJ to all the Grand Prix events, much to his doctor’s and coach’s disapproval. He goes even if he knows JJ isn’t assigned to the same events; it’s a nice distraction. The rest of the series he watches on shitty online streams or hotel televisions. He tells himself he’s not keeping track.

(He’s lying.)

JJ makes the Final with ease. Isabella is so proud, and so is Otabek, although much less loudly. He squashes down the tiny bubbles of resentment in his lungs and congratulates JJ with a smile.

“It’s not as good without you, though,” JJ tells him in the living room of his apartment, where they’ve returned for a few days before flying to Vancouver. Otabek smiles tightly from where he’s sprawled out on the couch. The brace on his right knee feels so very heavy.

“I’ll be back next season. Maybe even for Worlds, if they let me.”

They lapse into silence. JJ fiddles with his phone. Otabek looks at the ceiling. There is a very obvious elephant in the room.

“He’s going to be there,” JJ finally says, setting his phone on the coffee table. Otabek closes his eyes.

“I know.”

(They haven’t spoken since September. Each time Yuri had won gold -- Trophée de France, Rostelecom Cup -- Otabek had considered sending him a short message, just a congratulations. He’d stopped himself every time.

Yuri’s skating is still a study of technique and control, of flawless execution. His program scores rival those of his Grand Prix debut. He’s a favorite to win the competition.

There is no smile on his face, just steel and determination. It hurts to see. It’s as if Yuri has simply shut himself off, left only his skating.)

Vancouver has changed in the short time since Otabek was last here, but in many ways it’s still the same. He checks in along with JJ and his parents (Isabella will fly in for the actual competition in two days). He tries not to look around, to listen.

JJ goes to do a short press run. Otabek goes out for a walk.

When he returns, there are other skaters and coaches in the lobby, milling around and chatting. It’s hard not to be drawn to the sunshine hair, the blue Russian team jacket, the yelling. Yuri’s already in an argument with Viktor, sniping something while Viktor looks offended. He’s grown taller in the last few months; his hair is even longer now.

It hurts to see.

“Yura! Vitya! Check in already!” Otabek recognizes Yakov’s voice from behind him. He also recognizes the fury that flashes across Viktor’s face when he turns and sees Otabek standing there, watching them. His lips curl up in a sneer that mars his usually cheerful, good-looking face. But it stings far less than the way Yuri’s eyes slide right past Otabek like he isn’t even there, the way Yuri just walks past him with no acknowledgment. The way his expression doesn’t change, not even a little.

(For five years Otabek had told himself it was fine; that he would wait until they were on equal ground, when he could face Yuri both on and off the ice and hold his own. For five years Yuri had walked past Otabek and it was fine, because he hadn’t known who Otabek was, had been focused on himself. Otabek had simply fought tooth and nail for every scrap of talent he could get, until he could stand on the biggest of stages and feel like there was enough of himself to offer.

Five years, Otabek had waited, and it was fine. But now Yuri walks past him again like he doesn’t know him. It’s different, and it hurts.)

He goes back to his room and sits there and thinks, even more than not being able to skate this season, even more than watching everyone move around him, it’s the loss of Yuri’s bright, answering smile that hurts the most.

He declines JJ’s offer to have dinner with his family, stays at the hotel. But being in the room has him on edge, anxious; eventually, he leaves for another walk. When he comes back, cheeks red from the cold and even worse off than when he’d left, there’s someone in front of his hotel room door.

For a moment, his heart skips in hope, but the person has short black hair, not blonde. It takes him a moment to recognize Katsuki, but when he does, surprised is an understatement.

“Did you need something?” he asks, trying not to sound too nonplussed.

“I think I should talk to you,” Katsuki answers. Otabek searches his expression, looking for signs of the same fury and vindictiveness in Viktor, in Mila, but he finds none. Katsuki regards him coldly but civilly, so Otabek figures Katsuki’s not here to kill him.

Probably.

They end up on the balcony of Otabek’s room, overlooking the city. Katsuki is fiddling his fingers, hemming and hawing and clearly trying to figure out what to say.

“I’m still disappointed with the way you handled this,” Katsuki eventually says; it’s not a very promising opener. Otabek blanches, but he knows he’d made a mistake. Hearing it from Katsuki of all people just weirdly makes it feel even worse. He braces himself for more reproach, but Katsuki just sighs and leans his cheek on his hand. “Viktor and Mila are furious, of course; I thought Mila was going to beat you up.”

Otabek grimaces. “I thought she would, too.”

It makes Katuski chuckle under his breath. “We talked her out of it.” He hums a little, looks out over the view. Says, quietly, “Yurio isn’t mad anymore.”

Otabek tries very hard not to hold his breath, not to hope for too much.

“Well, he still is, kind of.” There’s a tiny, fond smile tugging at Katsuki’s lips. “You’re supposed to be honest with each other about things like this, and you left him out. It hurt him a lot.” (Otabek knows this; it’s been haunting his thoughts since September.) “But I…”

Katsuki shakes his head, props his chin on one palm as he leans on the balcony ledge. “Two seasons ago, when I lost to Yurio in his senior debut, I’d actually decided to retire. But I didn’t tell Viktor about it until the night before the free skate.” Katsuki actually laughs, if a little sadly. “I’d thought that if I told him earlier, he’d talk me out of it, and, well… it was my decision. He was my coach, but I’d thought it would only be until the Grand Prix Final, and then he’d return to skating and I’d stop.”

Otabek doesn’t know what to say; he hadn’t even known this, not entirely. He also understands now, somewhat, why Katsuki had come to talk to him. He lets himself ask, “how did he take it?”

Katsuki shakes his head. “Badly. Or, well, he cried and he got angry, though not as much as Yurio did, from what I heard. And things were… difficult between us the next day. But when I just put everything I wanted to say into my skating as my apology and, well, confession. And he understood.” The Japanese skater glances at Otabek, then down to his knee, still in the brace under his pants. “Of course, you can’t exactly do the same… but Yurio will understand.”

Otabek looks at Katuski, who’s smiling softly, then turns his gaze out to the view. He inhales, exhales in a sigh. “Okay.”

“I’ll handle Viktor,” Katuski says, patting him on the shoulder. As he turns to leave, he adds, “be honest this time.”

Otabek swallows dryly, nods. “Okay.”

Finding Yuri the next day is simple. Otabek shows up at his hotel room door with nothing but himself and a jumble of words in his mouth. True to his word, Katsuki has spirited Viktor off somewhere, so it’s just Yuri in the doorway glaring at Otabek (and if looks could kill).

“Please, Yuri,” Otabek says, simply and sincerely. There’s a flash of uncertainty in Yuri’s eyes, and it hurts, but at this point the worst Yuri can do is close the door.

Thankfully, he doesn’t.

Leaving the door open, Yuri stomps back into the room and throws himself onto the couch, saying nothing and fiddling with his phone. Otabek takes the unspoken invitation and comes inside. He stands there awkwardly, trying to remember everything he’d rehearsed last night, then decides to follow Katsuki’s advice.

“I’m sorry,” he says, without preamble. He sees the way Yuri’s jaw tightens, his fingers still, but Otabek just presses on. “For whatever it’s still worth, Yura, I really am. I didn’t leave you out on purpose, and I didn’t mean to end up lying. I swear.”

Yuri doesn’t look up. Otabek steadies himself with a breath. “I was scared. It was a major decision, and I didn’t want it to affect you, too. I know it’s stupid, and it’s no excuse. I made a mistake. I won’t leave you out again.”

He can’t meet Yuri’s eyes like this, so Otabek simply lets every emotion bleed into his words and hopes it’s enough to get his message across. “I swear, Yura -- zvezdochko, I won’t shut you out again.”

The room is quiet. Yuri is still looking at his phone, cradled in his lap, and Otabek looks at Yuri and tries to swallow down the hope threatening to bloom in his chest. There is a moment, then two, then slowly, Yuri holds out one hand.

Otabek is across the room in a heartbeat, kneeling in front of Yuri, hands hovering. When he sees the tears pricking at the corner of Yuri’s eyes, he stops holding his breath.

“Kitten,” and the familiar nickname almost cracks as he says it, “I never wanted to hurt you, I swear. I know I messed up, but I am here, I -- I love you, Yura, I love you.”

He repeats the words, over and over, reaching up and cupping Yuri’s cheeks, threading fingers through sunshine hair. And Yuri crumples forward, into Otabek’s arms; pushes his face into Otabek’s shoulder, slender hands clutching at his shirt.

“Beka,” he says, wetly, hoarsely, and Otabek holds him tighter.

(Yuri doesn’t take gold; he finishes a point and a half shy of JJ’s total to come in second. But the steel in his skating has softened; his extensions and lines are less harsh. And when the initial congratulations have passed and Viktor has let go of Yuri, the young skater’s eyes search the crowd. When he finds Otabek, he smiles, a soft upturn of lips, and cheekily gives him a thumbs up.

Otabek shakes his head, but gives a thumbs up in return.)

+1

It’s morning in St. Petersburg, a rare day off for both Otabek and Yuri. They’re in the living room. Yuri’s with Potya, sunshine on his hair in its messy bun and on the old sweater he’s wearing, ratty at the cuffs. Otabek’s just come back from the kitchen, standing by the counter and watching them. It’s a soft and quiet morning, the cold seeping in just a little.

The early sunlight streams through the windows of their apartment, painting everything rose and gold. Potya miaows indignantly, having had enough of Yuri’s teasing, and stalks off to the sound of Yuri’s laughter. Otabek wants to kiss the crinkles at the corners of those bright green eyes, kiss him and kiss him.

A faint smell of bread and smoke wafts in from outside. There’s a blanket thrown over the back of the couch, which they cuddle under when they watch movies, or just sit and talk. There are photos, mementos littering various surfaces. There’s a cactus on the window sill.

Otabek looks at Yuri. high cheekbones and sharp shoulders, a slenderness that belies his strength; the line of his back that Otabek had kissed down last night. The warmth in his expression when he meets Otabek’s gaze and smiles, for no reason other than that Otabek makes him happy.

Otabek looks at Yuri, and the words simply come out.

“Marry me.”

Yuri’s hands still where they’re reaching for Potya; his eyes widen as he looks back at Otabek, stunned. Otabek just walks over to where he sits, kneels beside him, takes Yuri’s hands in his. Lifts them to his own lips for a kiss.

“Marry me.”

Yuri inhales shakily, eyes searching Otabek’s face. He finds nothing but certainty, a steadiness so characteristic of Otabek, that he relies on.

“Okay.”

The answer is quiet, gentle, sure. There’s the softest of smiles on Yuri’s lips, an immeasurable fondness in his gaze as he looks up at Otabek. The floor is cold under Otabek’s knees, Yuri’s legs. It’s eight in the morning on a Wednesday.

“Okay.”

Otabek kisses him.

[ibuprofendiplomacy]

Ancient World-10, Egypt, 11/15/2019

Rome- Sgt.Beefcake

Greece- hhgttg42

Persia (end game)- JimmyYee

In other games, I occasionally write how my goal from the start was to try for a win if possible, and this is very true. In this game however, from the very first turn, it was my precise goal to go for a win by all means necessary- ending only if the others could stalemate me, with any other draw off the table. Why, you ask? Because, although I cringe deep when I think back on it, this was not the first time I got near a win as Egypt. This other godforsaken game ended with a draw in which I had 17 centers. This, without the other details, is annoying enough, and has happened to me before. The detail that made this game different was me being a merciful fool. Rome had helped me out, and had one unit left. They asked permission to keep Chersonesus (what would have been the last center I needed) while I would try to gain one in Greece or Carthage. Obviously, this did not play out as planned. A new Carthage joined that same turn, and immediately turned the tide- something the previous Carthage had seemed incapable of even attempting. My win was out of reach and I shamefully drew. What makes it so much worse, though, is that if I had in fact taken Chersonesus, Rome’s retreat would still have counted as a survival, something I failed to realize, turning my annoyance to anger and personal shame. So. With that all being said, hopefully it provides some backstory as to why I so fervently tried for the win here- redemption. ANYway- back to the narrative. In order to seal an Egyptian win, I feel it absolutely necessary to focus totally on Persia at the get go. Carthage, if they have any sense, will want a similar agreement aimed at Rome, as these two pairs seem to love to duke it out. Once Persia is eliminated, you have this wonderful gulf that is the Eastern Mediterranean that your fleets undoubtedly own most of that acts as a perfect buffer for the Persian gains, allowing more units to be used elsewhere. This is exactly what I did the first Egypt game, and what I began to try to do here. The first issue, as previously stated, was making peace with Carthage- namely deciding who would get Leptis. I, in that mindset of redemption, argued that Egypt already had a hard time getting centers the first year, and I would need it for my coming war. This Carthage agreed to, and became a subject of guilt on my part. Egypt really doesn’t need Leptis, as I was the only player with +3 year one. Without the extra unit, Carthage was, from the start, doomed to a long, gradual decline against Rome, which I take partial blame for, as they did nothing wrong by me whatsoever. I worked up the Levant coast quickly, mostly because Persia was assumedly a new player, as they let me walk into Sidon almost immediately, and didn’t send orders for a pivotal turn. 

At this point, Greece and I had also been in communication, and I, again with my mindset of redemption, did what I could to seem innocent and willing to cooperate together. They agreed to set up a long convoy into Carthage instead of fight, which I feigned agreement to by setting up the convoy, and instead taking Crete and trying to get some good naval positioning around the new target. 

In that same turn, I also had a serious mishap in that Persia managed to force a disband of an army in Damascus, as I made the idiotic mistake of failing to put in the support order of it into Antioch. This unfortunate turn of events put a damper on my seemingly foolproof plan of marching straight up and into Anatolia without issue, and instead created a relative stalemate. Thus, I began with a convoy into Isuria and slowly and somewhat steadily began the necessary encroachment into Greek territory. All seemed to be going well, as Carthage and Rome were still tightly engaged for what appeared to be the long haul, giving me what I hoped to be enough time to secure the win. Rome was not dumb, though. They did eventually use their extra army in the area to begin supporting Greece where it could, which admittedly was a pain. At this point another Persia had joined, and I hoped them to then turn on Greece as they would be unaware of the situation or something. What I didn’t expect is for them to offer assistance to myself. I either did not believe or didn’t see the value in agreeing to it, and for several turns attacked them because of these reasons. In the end, however, after many a failed push into their Antioch, I decided to give them a shot, and supported them into Cappadocia, leaving their center unharmed. 

[teecupangel]

Hi! I was thinking about your reblog of my AssCreed headcanon list and I got this idea... Adha and Desmond character swap?

Desmond just wakes up in the Levant without any reason while Adha gets transported into the future because of their weird Chalice connection.

Bonus points if the switch happens at a really awkward time, like Des wakes up in bed with Altaïr and Adha with Lucy/Shaun/Rebecca (... basically whatever modern day character you ship Desmond with, or maybe all of them if you wanna go the poly route)

And what do you know, maybe Desmond knows enough about the future to warn everybody about Al Mualim and Kadar gets to live, and maybe Adha is well-versed enough in Isu bullshit to save Lucy and the world (and also Clay, somehow? Can we fit him in there as well?).

The reblog in question and the tags I included:

#no 3 though would mean that calling adha the chalice meant, #she was similar to desmond miles, #maybe she was a failed version, #and there's a few like her, #with desmond being the final 'product', #i personally headcanon adha is called the chalice because she has a specific isu blood that can open something, #like maybe the lost city of iram, #also known as atlantis of the sands

Honestly, Desmond being reborn as Adha has been a Yew Branches idea of mine since last year mostly because:

The term Chalice would mean it’s meant to hold something (as @fanworldbuildingfun once stated) and considering the most famous Chalice is meant to hold blood, the idea that the title Chalice is connected to her blood is high and is similar to how Desmond’s blood(line) plays an important part in his story.

Adha means ‘sacrifice’ and Desmond ends up sacrificing himself. (While Adha was the sacrifice that needed to happen so Altaïr would become who he is in AC1)

Adha wanted to leave Levant and everything behind. Desmond wanted the same thing and did just that.

There’s a possibility that she was 25 when she died (unconfirmed) which is also the same age Desmond died.

Anyway, let’s talk about how Desmond and Adha swapping places would work.

Okay, so let’s go over what we’re sure will happen:

Desmond and Adha would switch places at very awkward times because that would be fun and we all love to make Desmond suffer (affectionately).

Desmond would end up saving Kadar and warn everyone about Al Mualim (and be believed, I guess?)

Adha would end up saving Lucy and the world

Optional: Clay will be saved as well

So, for this one, we’ll have to twist the timeline a bit. We never did get an idea of when (if he ever did) Desmond relived Altaïr’s memories of Altaïr’s Chronicles (although I do like to headcanon he dreamed of it while he was stuck in the trunk of the car as Lucy drives them to the Rome hideout) so we’ll throw that away and make Desmond only have vague memories of Adha because we are setting this in the timeline where Lucy is still alive so that means Desmond hasn’t reached a Synch Nexus with Altaïr yet.

I propose that they switch not after a night of passion but during it, like in the exact middle of it. The kind reason for this is that no one would mistake that some kind of nefarious switcheroo has happened or another. The mean (totally the main reason why I'm suggesting this) reason is… maximum embarrassment and panic for Desmond which I am all for. XD

Okay, so let’s focus on Desmond first:

The best time for Altaïr and Adha to have some quality time would be just after they reunited and left the sewers and before Altaïr went to Tyr to ‘confront’ Harash. For this, we’ll assume Altaïr didn’t leave immediately and, instead, decided to stay with Adha for one night. During that time, Desmond changes places with her and… there’s a long period of just the two of them staring at each other with growing surprise and whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck

Then Altaïr grabs him by the throat and demands to know who he is and where’s Adha.

And just as Desmond is starting to get lighthearted from the lack of oxygen.

He manages to blurt out.

“I’m Adha!”

And that… is how Desmond Miles, the Isu’s favorite chew toy and the unluckiest chosen one in the world, screwed up so badly that he now has to pretend to be the tragic destined-to-die lover of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.

Of course, Altaïr didn’t believe him at first but then Desmond started answering his questions, questions only Altaïr and Adha would have known the answers to and Desmond is pretty sure it wasn’t his Bleed of Altaïr that was giving him the answers.

Not when one of the questions made him say “Oh, that? Yeah. I lied to you back then. What? You were cute as a kid and you believed everything I say so I wanted to see if you’d be able to tell if I was lying! You never did, right?”

There was no way Desmond could have answered that unless Altaïr knew it was a lie. Altaïr had truly believed it which means…

For some reason…

He has Adha’s memories inside him.

Unorganized Notes:

Desmond got Altaïr to call him ‘Desmond’ because “it’ll be weird if you call a guy ‘Adha’, right? Also, the Brotherhood knows Adha and I don’t look anything like her.”

Desmond joins Altaïr in finishing up the remaining plot points of Altaïr Chronicles because something inside him knows something bad is going to happen if he doesn’t stay with Altaïr. Also, Altaïr wasn’t going to let him out of his sight because there were still a bit of lingering doubts about Desmond’s true identity which Desmond is like “yeah, that sounds about right”.

Altaïr Chronicles’ parts end successfully but Desmond gets a headache the day Adha was meant to die. He loses consciousness and Altaïr has to carry him off to somewhere safe until he wakes up.

When he wakes up, he knows where to go…

And now we get to Adha’s side of the story, in which she gets transported while Desmond was in the middle of a little stress-relieving session with Rebecca, Shaun and Lucy. All three of them immediately freaked out while Adha is momentarily confused before giving the same excuse Desmond gave to Altaïr.

“I’m Desmond Miles.”

Everyone is super sus at that but, really, they’re dealing with Isu BS and Desmond’s Bleeding Effect had been weirder than what was recorded (Lucy’s insistent “It can’t do this!!!” falls into deaf ears) and they figured the best way to check if Adha is Desmond is to put her in the Animus to check her genetic memories.

Lo and behold…

She has the same genetic DNA as Desmond Miles.

Not only that, the Animus ‘sees’ her as Subject 17 and the next memory to be played was the same memory of Ezio where they stopped for the day.

So, yeah…

According to the Animus…

Adha was Desmond Miles.

What the fuck.

Unorganized Notes:

Unlike Altaïr and Adha who did have an intimate romantic (most probably, fuck it, I’m headcanoning here, childhood friends to arranged marriage) relationship, Desmond’s relationship with Lucy, Shaun and Rebecca is primarily sexual although the feelings were starting to creep in.

If this was a fic, the narration would be more… vague. Less of Adha being an unreliable narrator and more of like the narration isn’t set in Adha’s eyes like with Desmond’s but in the eyes of the people around her although she’s the main focus.

She actually has a higher sync rate than any of Desmond’s past synchronization which is surprising.

Instead of going to the colosseum, Ezio’s memories stopped just as he had taken the Apple back from the Borgias, instead giving them the memory of Altaïr and everyone freezes when they saw Desmond with him.

They were underground and Shaun noticed that it looks a lot like the vault in the Vatican but… there are pillars, large and tall, piercing the dark ceiling above them.

After that memory plays, Adha slips into a coma and the Animus tells them that taking her off would endanger her so they keep her hooked to the Animus as it starts playing memories of Altaïr and Desmond.

During that time, Adha meets with Clay who calls her an ‘anomaly’ and Adha just smiles as she says “yeah, that sounds about right.”

Their conversation will be hidden from everyone (including the readers) and it will end with Adha waking up from her coma and telling everyone that they need to go somewhere else right now.

She takes them to the colosseum first to get the Apple but she tells Lucy to stay in the van for now. When Lucy tries to join them, the van locks by itself and Lucy freezes when she hears Clay’s voice coming from the laptop connected to the Animus.

When they returned, Lucy is oddly quiet and just asks Adha where to go next.

Adha gives them the location of a place they never heard from Ezio’s memories at all.

The Convergence:

The location in question is the lost city of Iram which has an underground Isu ‘temple’ named Iram of the Pillars.

The pillars there served as one of the many failed experiments of the Isu to protect themselves from the Solar Flare. The pillars were meant to store the data of all the Isus and the idea was they would be used to transfer the Isus forward a little bit after the Solar Flare.

The process of uploading the data itself proved to take too much time and Juno used the premise of this project and created the Mead to transfer the Isu’s consciousness instead of its entirety.

Iram can only be opened by a specific bloodline. To be more specific, the bloodline that Adha belongs to with an Isu ancestry that had been in charge of the Pillar Project (since this is a Capitoline Triad thing, I wanna say Minerva since she has a statue in Masyaf according to the novel but the idea of Juno and Aita having a child that would could be the Isu ancestor of Adha is a bit fun). This Isu ancestry is also in Altaïr’s bloodline thanks to Umar although his blood is more ‘diluted’ than Adha’s.

The Isu ancestry is why Adha is named the Chalice and why she ‘can turn the tide’ of the crusades since this is pretty much a teleporter of some sort.

Desmond is connected to Adha for one specific reason: he’s was Adha in his past life and now, thanks to whatever the fuck happened in 2012 that serves as the premise of all Yew Branches, Adha herself is the reincarnation of Desmond Miles after he died in 2012.

In other words, the Adha we’ve been looking at had been Desmond Miles who used Iram’s Pillar Project to switch their places because she, as Desmond Miles, wanted to save the people he couldn’t save in his previous life. And now, the pillars are ready for its final use.

By using the Pillars that have been upgraded thanks to Desmond in the past (and Altaïr) bringing the necessary POEs that would start the automatic upgrade construction that would need centuries to be completed, the Pillars could be used for one big moment where the entire world will be transported a few seconds into the future just as the Solar Flare hits. This way, the entire world would be gone and when it returns (without anyone knowing of the time and space displacement), the Solar Flare would have already been completed.

Now…

This is the conundrum…

Do we include in the idea that using the Pillars to save the world meant that Adha and Desmond would be stuck in their current time with Desmond with Altaïr and Adha with Shaun, Rebecca, Lucy and (digital ghost for now) Clay?

Or will the Pillars switch them back in their proper time?

What would count as a happy ending in this scenario?

Because Adha has Desmond Miles’ memories so she does love Shaun, Rebecca, and Lucy the same way Desmond Miles had and everything she had done was to save the world and save Lucy and Clay.

And Desmond has spent years with Altaïr at this point, growing close to him and Altaïr definitely realized that Desmond is more than just Adha.

So… really…

Would returning them to their original timeline truly be a happy ending?

[gadgetsrevv]

Man City aren’t in crisis despite Norwich shock. PLUS: Bayern’s Bundesliga dominance is under threat

There’s lots to talk about in this week’s Monday Musings following a wild weekend. Gab Marcotti is here to recap the big stories around soccer.

Jump to: No crisis yet for Man City | End of Bayern’s dominance? | Fati masks Barca’s issues | Juventus get lucky | Neymar gets rude welcome | Arsenal woe continues | | Neville harsh on Man United? | Chelsea’s youth movement | Dortmund ready for Barca | Odegaard dazzling for Sociedad | Why Firmino’s so special | Conte, Inter keep winning | The sad story of #BlueGirl

Sky isn’t falling for Man City despite Norwich shock

One of the more odd decisions this past summer was Manchester City not replacing Vincent Kompany. “Replace” is perhaps too strong a word. You can’t “replace” him but you can bring in another live body to give you an alternative at centre-back and provide some competition for John Stones and Nicolas Otamendi.

– Ogden: Man City might regret inspiring Liverpool – Miller: Have Norwich shown the league how to beat City? – ESPN’s Ultimate XI: This team would win everything

Many of us pointed this out but hey, it’s Pep Guardiola, so you naturally offer the benefit of the doubt. He must know something we don’t. Maybe Fernandinho (at 34) can fill in too. Maybe Eric Garcia is ready. Maybe Kyle Walker can slide across. Maybe Aymeric Laporte is Iron Man and will never get injured. (Oops: we already know that’s not the case.)

Pep Guardiola’s side looked vulnerable in Saturday’s shock defeat at Norwich but there’s still a lot of time left for them to get their balance back.

It’s not that Otamendi and Stones are bad defenders, it’s that the way City play can leave them vulnerable, which is pretty much what happened against Norwich in their 3-2 defeat. There’s a price you pay for choosing to play a certain way and evidently, for City it’s one worth paying. The problem is this is a low-scoring sport. Scoring goals is difficult and ideally, you want to make conceding them as difficult as possible for the opposition. With those two back there and this setup, it’s that much easier for them.

Updated Luck Index: Man City continue to be unfortunate

No, the sky isn’t falling. Even in this game, Man City could have grabbed the three points with a bit more luck. Nor will they always face someone as motivated and as intense as Daniel Farke’s crew who, severely depleted by injuries, went all out with nothing to lose. But the reality is that the gap separating them from Liverpool is already at five points, and the last time that happened was back in January.

Is time running out on Bayern’s Bundesliga dynasty?

Is this the year someone in the Bundesliga topples Galactus (read: Bayern)?

Leipzig had their audition on Saturday, holding the champions to a 1-1 draw. The result keeps Julian Nagelsmann’s crew top of the league with Bayern fourth, two points back. But other than the usual drive and running you’d expect from Leipzig — and, after the break, the character that wasn’t always there last season — I’m not sure we quite saw enough to predict they’ll prevail over the marathon that is a whole season.

Thomas Muller, right, and Bayern were forced to settle for a point vs. RB Leipzig thanks to some familiar flaws that manager Niko Kovac has yet to fix.

In fact, a lot of it had to do with Bayern’s deficiencies. Having gone ahead early thanks to the age-old Thomas Mueller-Robert Lewandowski connection, they failed to capitalise on their lead despite having the upper hand for much of the first half. Joshua Kimmich in central midfield alongside Thiago Alcantara gave them a bit more control against the press, but they were sterile in the final third. Leipzig deserved their equalizer after a bad error from Lucas Hernandez (the sort that prompts you to say “He cost how much?”) and while late chances meant it could have gone either way, there wasn’t too much separating these two.

The difference? Well, you try to imagine how they can get better and you can see far bigger margins for growth at the Bayern end. Nagelsmann can conjure up some more tactical voodoo, Emil Forsberg might last 90 minutes, Kevin Kampl might be fit again and maybe they’ll get something out of Patrik Schick. But it’s slim pickings.

As for Bayern, Nico Kovac lost David Alaba to injury in the warm-up. But he still has Philippe Coutinho, who only came on with two minutes to go, and Ivan Perisic, who stayed rooted to the bench: presumably both were signed for a reason. The question, really, is how much faith you have in Kovac.

Fabulous Fati obscures Barca’s issues

Ansu Fati, already the third-youngest goal scorer in the history of La Liga, got his first start for Barcelona on Saturday against Valencia and set the Camp Nou alight inside 10 minutes. He scored with a confident, accurate finish, set up a goal for Frenkie de Jong and came close to scoring two more times. Oh yeah, in case you didn’t know, the kid doesn’t turn 17 until Halloween.

His emergence, and that of Carles Perez, means that Lionel Messi (who was in the stands) and Luis Suarez (who came on and scored twice) can come back into the team in their own time. But equally, despite the gaudy scoreline (5-2) and the excitement over Fati, there is still plenty for Ernesto Valverde to work on.

Valencia are a mess right now (thanks, Peter Lim!), having sacked Marcelino and replaced him with Albert Celades. And they still stayed in the game thanks to Kevin Gameiro, falling apart only after Jasper Cillessen‘s mistake for the third Barca goal. Suarez, looking sharp and hungry (no, not in that way), later added two to put the game out of reach.

Defensively, Barca looked far from solid, not just at the back but also in midfield; the fact that it was the first choice trio of De Jong, Arthur and Sergio Busquets doesn’t bode well.

Juventus get lucky vs. Fiorentina

There’s a ton of ancient bad blood between Fiorentina and Juventus. Throw in the enthusiasm that new owner Rocco Commisso has engendered within the Viola organization, the fact that it was Maurizio Sarri’s official post-pneumonia debut and especially the fact that the visitors lost Douglas Costa, Miralem Pjanic and Danilo through injury during the match (and the first two are especially key to the way they play) and perhaps Juve should be happy with a point.

Why? They were poor for much of the game against an opponent who treats the match as if it was the Champions League final and “Avengers: Endgame” rolled into one. Sarri later blamed the heat of a mid-afternoon kickoff, which is a bit hard to stomach since presumably Fiorentina felt just as hot. It might have been better to just take it on the chin, be grateful for the point and move on.

PSG fans will take time to welcome Neymar back

Neymar made his first appearance of the season for Paris Saint-Germain at the weekend and was greeted, predictably, with boos and insults. It’s what you expect when, after pledging your loyalty to the club, you go out of your way to force a move back to Barcelona. So what did he do? Easy, he scored a “worldie” deep in injury time to secure the three points against Strasbourg.

– Laurens: The definitive story of the Neymar saga

“I expected it, but in the end I forced them to applaud,” he said afterwards, adding that every game will now feel like an away match.

He made his bed, he can lie in it now and won’t get much sympathy. But at the very least, he deserves recognition for the professionalism he showed Saturday. Whether he’ll ever get love from the Ultras given what happened is unclear but that doesn’t mean they can’t reach some mutually beneficial relationship.

What’s obvious is that if you’re Thomas Tuchel, you’re glad he’s back.

Arsenal’s issues are self-inflicted

The statistics say Arsenal conceded 23 shots on goal in the second half against Watford on Sunday. That’s one every two minutes and it’s frankly hard to do. It’s especially tough when you go in at half-time with a two-goal lead, one which, based on what we saw in the first half, was likely more than generous. And yes, they ended up settling for a 2-2 draw.

You can focus on individuals — Matteo Guendouzi, Sokratis Papastathopoulos, David Luiz — all you like and there’s another statistic floating around that says that since the start of last season no team has made more errors leading directly to opposition goals than Arsenal. But this is a team issue.

If you have error-prone players, you design tactical systems that protect them and don’t expose them. That’s just basic. And that’s on Unai Emery.

Real nearly throw it away before PSG trip

It’s a sign of Real Madrid’s current state that even after playing well, creating plenty of chances and racing to a 3-0 lead at home to Levante, they still required a last-ditch save from Thibaut Courtois to retain their three points. In the cold light of day, you’d look at this performance, note Madrid’s domination, the fact that the goals conceded were against the run of play and chalk up the 3-2 scoreline to the randomness of football. And you might even celebrate Eden Hazard‘s debut and look forward to what is next.

Instead, it’s all fraught nerves ahead of the trip to the Parc des Princes to face Paris Saint-Germain in midweek. Context matters, possibly because we’re in mid-September and we have no real idea what Zinedine Zidane has in mind.

Neville a bit harsh on Man United?

Manchester United squeezed out a victory over Leicester City, but I was struck by Gary Neville’s comments suggesting Ole Gunnar Solskjaer should get at least three more transfer windows “to clean up the trash in the dressing room, because there is trash in there.”

I have a lot of time for Neville, but I was wondering to whom he’s referring given a summer of significant departures. Of the guys who are most frequently targeted as “trash” (or “weeds,” to use another of his terms), Eric Bailly, Phil Jones and Marcos Rojo haven’t played this year. Fred has been on the pitch for 24 minutes, Nemanja Matic has started one game. Who does he mean? Paul Pogba? Anthony Martial? Juan Mata?

I’m also not sure about the comparisons with Jurgen Klopp’s Liverpool and how it took him time to produce. He reached a Europa League final after taking over in October and finished fourth the following year. Plus, he had a rather more credible résumé than Solskjaer did. By all means, give him time, but set credible targets and deadlines too.

Why Chelsea’s youth movement feels different

Chelsea’s 5-2 away win to Wolves brings their seasonal goals total to 11 and all of them scored by Academy graduates. Fikayo Tomori, Andreas Christensen, Tammy Abraham and Mason Mount all started at Molyneux and all look poised to play a big part in Chelsea’s season. With more homegrown players — Ruben Loftus-Cheek and Callum Hudson-Odoi, possibly Reece James too — set to return from injury, there could be as many as seven of them in Frank Lampard‘s XI at some point.

What sets this group apart, though, is the fact that apart from Christensen, who joined at 16, the others have all been affiliated with the club since before they were 10 years old. We often play fast and loose with the homegrown label since so many clubs (including Chelsea, of course) cherry-pick top talent from elsewhere at 16, stick them in the Academy for a year or two and then count them as “club-trained.” Technically, that’s true but with these guys, it’s different.

Dortmund look ready for Barcelona

“Bouncebackability” isn’t a real word, but it applies here. Borussia Dortmund had a whole international break to stew over the humiliating 3-1 defeat to newly promoted Union Berlin and with Kai Havertz and Bayer Leverkusen rolling into town, the potential for aftereffects was still high. Instead, we got one of the most dominating Dortmund performances in recent memory. At the attacking end, Marco Reus got his mojo back, Jadon Sancho popped up with his usual two assists and Paco Alcacer scored in his eighth consecutive game, including internationals.

Roll on, Barcelona, this Tuesday.

Odegaard continues to dazzle

Martin Odegaard made his international debut for Norway at 15 years of age and moved to Real Madrid six months later. Too much, too soon? It felt that way to many, given he failed to establish himself at youth level and later spent two years on loan. But players develop at different speeds, and having rocketed to the international stage, he was due a breather.

This year, he’s on loan at Real Sociedad, where he’s already scored twice and, on Saturday night against Atletico Madrid, was arguably man of the match. He doesn’t even turn 21 until December, but it feels as if this could be the year it all comes together for him. Watch this space.

Meanwhile, for Atletico, the 2-0 defeat reinforces what we already know: losing four or five starters in a summer is tricky to metabolize and there will be days like this when Diego Simeone’s tinkering leads nowhere.

Why Roberto Firmino is so unique

My former colleague Matthew Syed, writing in The Times, made the point that Roberto Firmino appears to have 360-degree vision, a bit like those owls, whose heads seem to swivel all the way around. It’s not hard to see why, given his performance in Liverpool’s 3-1 win over Newcastle.

Some see him as a prototype of a modern center-forward, the “false nine” who is more creator than finisher. That certainly fits with Firmino’s strengths though another, equally formidable strength is the intensity and intelligence of his pressing game. But I’m not sure he’s a prototype of anything.

Most of Europe’s top teams — from Barcelona to Manchester City, from Tottenham to Real Madrid, from Bayern to Juventus — still have a genuine centerforward rather than a “false nine” (to use another hipsterish term). In other words, Firmino is not a trend as much as he has a nearly unique, extremely rare skill set, which comes as a result of his past as an attacking midfielder.

Conte keeping expectations down at Inter

Antonio Conte is playing that age-old game straight out of Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War” — “when you are weak, appear strong and when you are strong, appear weak.” Following Inter’s third win on the bounce (one-nil against Udinese) he said, “We know the game. They build us up now to knock us down later. For us to win the title, other clubs would have to have disastrous seasons.”

– Schoenfeld: Romelu Lukaku talks about his Inter mission

It’s pretty transparent what he’s doing. And yes, Inter aren’t title favorites but he has the strike force he says he wanted (Romelu Lukaku, Lautaro Martinez, Alexis Sanchez), he has two of the best young midfielders in the league (Stefano Sensi and Nicolo Barella) and arguably the best center-back corps. There’s no reason to hide. Own the responsibility.

What needs to happen beyond #BlueGirl

The harrowing tale of Sahar Khodayari, the 29-year-old Iranian woman who set herself on fire (and later died from severe burns) after being sentenced to six months in prison for disguising herself as a man to attend a football match between her team, Esteghlal, and the UAE’s Al-Ain last March, shocked the world.

Like many such stories, it’s more complicated than it appears. There is no written law barring women from entering Iranian stadiums, so she was sentenced for not fully adhering to Islamic hijab laws and covering her head. But equally, since the Islamic revolution 40 years ago, women have been unofficially banned from watching men’s games with very few exceptions, like last November’s Asian Champions League final.

It shouldn’t take the tragic death of a vulnerable person for the world to take notice. The hashtag #BlueGirl is great to raise awareness but it can’t end there, particularly since there has been so much outrage and support for change, even in Iran.

FIFA President Gianni Infantino has pushed Iran on this matter before and the stock answer has been that the “infrastructure” was not yet in place to allow women in on a regular basis. (What infrastructure? Women’s toilets? Surely they have port-a-potties in Iran…) That argument is nonsense as evidenced by the fact that women have been allowed in before. FIFA’s statutes are very clear when it comes to equality and access. They have the power to withhold development money and suspend the Iranian FA.

It’s time to take action and, given the support such action would have within Iran — from much of the population and virtually the entire football world — it feels like a no-brainer.

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[cfijerusalem]

FINAL FRONTIERS AND BORDER TOWNS

“I will stand at my watch and station myself on the ramparts; I will look to see what He will say to me”  (Habakkuk 2:1).

The Levant (CC-BY-SA-3.0, Wikimedia Commons)

“I will fix your boundary from the Red Sea to the sea of the Philistines, and from the wilderness to the River Euphrates; for I will deliver the inhabitants of the land into your hand, and you will drive them out before you (Exodus 23:31). “…and He made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined their appointed times and the boundaries of their habitation (Acts 17:26) 

“When the Most High gave the nations their inheritance, when He separated the sons of man, He set the boundaries of the peoples according to the number of the sons of Israel” (Deuteronomy 32:8). 

“You also gave them kingdoms and peoples And allotted them to them as a boundary. They took possession of the land of Sihon the king of Heshbon And the land of Og the king of Bashan” (Nehemiah 9:22). 

“You have established all the boundaries of the earth; You have made summer and winter” (Psalm 74:17).

“The LORD will tear down the house of the proud, But He will establish the boundary of the widow” (Proverbs 15:25). “For I will drive out nations before you and enlarge your borders, and no man shall covet your land when you go up three times a year to appear before the LORD your God” (Exodus 34:24). 

Someone once said “Unless you put the jars out when it rains, you will never collect the water.” If we don’t stand in our towers, watching the horizon for Israel and her people, we will never be spiritually alert for what God is doing in the latter times, in Israel, and among the nations, and how what happens in Israel, will affect the nations. Every nation has its borders that protect and promote safety for the people of the country. Borders also define the people who live behind them; they protect infrastructures, and maintain peace between governments that may be surrounding each nation. Borders also keep the wrong people from trespassing on someone else’s land, very important today when ethnic groups are losing their identities because of strangers who wish to take away their heritage and  traditions, not to mention their individual freedoms. We may all wish we did not have borders between lands and people. That might be the perfect situation but until the Lord Returns, peace will not be found on the earth, and only He, the Prince of Peace, can break down barriers and borders, whether they be in the minds of individuals, or physical ones. However, the Bible does tell us that the LORD Himself set the borders of nations, and He also set the borders of His Chosen People: Israel. Therefore, with respect to the Lord, we honor the Land that was given to the Jewish people, and also respect the boundaries of the nation, in order to protect and keep the Jewish people safe. Little Israel has been protecting her borders, and boundaries which God gave to her, ever since He miraculously brought her back home to the Land. Coming Home again for the Jewish people is a Biblical command, a holy Aliyah (coming up) which God ordered for His People. All of the signs of the return, the rebuilding, the reafforestation, the reclaiming of land to farm and produce, the return of the holy language of Hebrew, the dry bones emerging from the ashes of Europe, the advancements and blessings by the Hand of God, have all made Israel the most amazing country/nation, on earth. Yes, the borders of Israel were decreed by Almighty God, and none dare try to move those borders because they are holy borders, they are in place as God chose them to be, and in the future will expand, to receive His Holy Kingdom on earth. Let us all stay at our stations, be patient and not grow weary in praying for Israel, believing the promises of God for her, and staying excited for what God is going to do here in the Land, and among the people. When we pray for her borders to be safe and secure, let us also pray that those behind the borders of hatred and unrest, will be saved and come to the knowledge of the One True God, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. May they know the real Messiah who died for Israel, and the whole world. Stay at your station to  pray – watching and knowing that God is fulfilling His Word, and will continue to do so, until He Comes.

LET’S MOVE INTO THE THRONE OF PRAYER

Pray fervently for supernatural alertness on our borders, i.e., that all soldiers will be sensitive in the spirit, to what is happening on all four borders. “Do not forsake wisdom, and she will protect you; love her, and she will watch over you.  The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom. Though it cost all you have, get understanding” (Proverbs 4:6-7).

Pray and Praise for opening the windows of heaven and pouring out waterfalls of rain this past winter. “The LORD will send rain at the proper time from his rich treasury in the heavens and will bless all the work you do. You will lend to many nations, but you will never need to borrow from them” (Deuteronomy 28:12).

Thank God for His Choice of a leader for Israel during these difficult times. We pray for the day when the Lord will be present on earth and the Leader of His People. “Every person is to be in subjection to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those which exist are established by God” (Romans 13:1).

Beseech the Lord that all Israeli soldiers will be believing men and women of God. That all unbelief or apathy toward God would be gone and a new spirit of love for God’s Word – the Tanach, and an awakening to God would please God, as defenders of the nation. “And he will go on before the Lord, in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous – to make ready a people prepared for the Lord” (Luke 1:17). “And he will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and the hearts of the children to their fathers. Otherwise, I will come and strike the land with a curse” (Malachi 4:6).

Bow in humble adoration for all of the promises which God has made to Israel (just as He has made to all believers), that He is not a man that can ever lie, and that He never makes a mistake (a quote from Derek Prince). “God is not a man, that he should lie; neither the son of man, that he should repent: hath he said, and shall he not do it? or hath he spoken, and shall he not make it” (Numbers 23:19).

Thank God for the beauty of the Land, the clean air, the colors which sparkle in the sun, the productive-ness of the Land, and the fulfilling of God’s promises to Israel that we see before our eyes. “Even the wilderness and desert will be glad in those days. The wasteland will rejoice and blossom with spring crocuses” (Isaiah 35:1).

It is spring in Israel, and we have never seen it more beautiful. The abundance of rain fell and brought forth even more beauty for this God blessed Land. Come to Israel to visit and see the Land this year, experience the breath of God which has been spread across the entirety of this special piece of holy ground. Thank God that He gave the borders, and the right for the Jewish people to come back home, re-establish their Land and prepare for the Coming of Messiah. We know that the Lord will return in God’s Timing, but the signs of the times, the blossoming of the desert like the rose (especially this year), the abundance of waterfalls, the beauty of the colors of Joseph’s coat across the entire land, its valleys, ravines, wadis, and country side is something special to behold. Thank you for praying for the safety and security of Israel’s borders, and pray that the angels of God will stand with swords drawn, to ward off any evil spirits with malicious intentions to kill, steal or try to destroy, or try to keep God’s Name from being sanctified in this place. So we pray a spiritual outpouring of God’s Spirit will soon bring the people into a closer relationship with God, and an understand of redemption. Thank you to each and every prayer warrior standing at their stations. Keep the flag of prayer planted firmly in the ground and continue to “look up”.

Sincerely in the Lord, Sharon Sanders Christian Friends of Israel - Jerusalem, email: prayer@cfijerusalem.org

[teeky185]

Two British Special Forces soldiers have been seriously hurt after a missile attack by the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (Isil) in Syria. The attack was believed to have happened on Saturday morning near Deir Ezzor in the east of the country.   A Kurdish soldier fighting alongside the British forces was killed in the missile strike and five other British troops were injured. The most serious casualty, understood by the Telegraph to be from Britain’s elite 22 SAS Regiment, based in Hereford, is thought to have been hit in the throat with shrapnel. British Special Forces are believed to be operating in the east of Syria alongside American troops and Kurdish fighters of the People’s Defence Unit (YPG), a mainly Kurdish militia fighting in Syria. Kamiran Sadoun, a Syrian Kurdish journalist working for the Telegraph, spoke to injured fighters from the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) at a makeshift hospital at the al-Omar oil field in the evening of Saturday 5. Isil's last battleground "I was in the hospital when they brought three injured SDF fighters,” he said. “One was heavily injured and one of them was injured lightly and one of them was killed. "We asked them what happened. One said they were patrolling with the British, there were around 5-7 of them when the Isil thermal rocket - a guided missile - hit. Two or three of the British were heavily injured but all 5-7 of them were lightly injured." The attack occurred as allies and fighters in the region consider the impact of President Trump’s decision to withdraw US forces from the country. On December 19 Mr Trump stated that Isil had been defeated in Syria and that troops would be coming home "now". However, on Sunday John Bolton, the US National Security Adviser, confirmed reports that the withdrawal would be slower than the President suggested. He said Mr Trump was committed to defeating the remnants of Isil and “wants the caliphate destroyed”.  He also stated that the US withdrawal is conditional on Turkey agreeing not to target America’s Kurdish allies. Analysis | US withdrawal does not mean the war on Isil stops Turkey must “meet the President’s requirement that the Syrian opposition forces that have fought with us are not endangered,” he said during a visit to Israel and Turkey. Also speaking on Sunday, Mr Trump denied the apparent volte-face: "We're going to be removing our troops. I never said we were doing it that quickly," he said. Emile Hokayem, Senior Research Fellow for Middle East Security at the International Institute for Strategic Studies, said Isil would be emboldened by news of an American withdrawal, describing President Trump’s new Syria policy as “messy”. “One can debate the merits and wisdom of the long-term US presence in north-east Syria," he said, "but certainly the way it was announced and the chaos that followed - with the resignation of [Defence Secretary James] Mattis and [Syria Special Envoy Brett] McGurk - really played to the advantage of the adversaries of the US and the West. “The US has become overly ambitious [in recent years]. The presence in eastern Syria was supposed to check and kick out Iran [and] it was supposed to ensure the enduring defeat of Isil. Benjamin Netanyahu greets US National Security Adviser John Bolton in Jerusalem on Sunday Credit: Getty Images Europe “The goals kept growing and there was a massive mismatch between the risk appetite of the Pentagon and the resources applied. “US policy has been bankrupt for many years, starting under Obama. The US was always going to face this kind of dilemma, this is not a purely Trump administration crisis. “The key problem was how this was announced, how it countered all the statements of senior US officials. “Trump makes things worse, but he didn’t create those dilemmas. A security source told the Telegraph the attack on British and Kurdish forces shows that the war against Isil in Syria and Iraq is not over. “The enemy is still there and still active. Isil are not entirely defeated,” the source said. Although Britain operates in some parts of the world without US partners it is inconceivable British forces would continue to operate in Syria following a US withdrawal. US army vehicles supporting the Syrian Democratic Forces in Hajin, in the Deir Ezzor province, eastern Syria, December 15, 2018. Credit: DELIL SOULEIMAN/AFP The Telegraph understands that the tempo of operations has not diminished since Mr Trump’s decision and that US forces have not yet started disengaging from the region. The logistics of any withdrawal are likely to be hampered until the spring by bad weather.   According to government statistics, RAF fighter jets and drones conducted 46 strikes against Isil targets in Syria in the first two weeks of December. The airstrikes helped expel Isil forces from the strategically important area of Hajin, near the Iraq border, described by the Ministry of Defence as “the terrorists last significant territory”. Defence Secretary Gavin Williamson, using an Arabic name for Isil, said: “The advance through Hajin is a huge milestone and shows that Daesh are being pushed further back into the shadows. “Make no mistake though, although this is another significant battle won, much hard work still lies ahead to ensure we win the war.”

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://yhoo.it/2RuyZrm

[worldtopnewsoftheday]

Two British Special Forces soldiers have been seriously hurt with one suffering a throat injury after a missile attack by the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (Isil) in Syria. The attack was believed to have happened on Saturday morning near Deir Ezzor in the east of the country.   A Kurdish soldier fighting alongside the British forces was killed in the missile strike and five other British troops were injured. The most serious casualty, understood by the Telegraph to be from Britain’s elite 22 SAS Regiment based in Hereford, is thought to have been hit in the throat with shrapnel. British Special Forces are believed to be operating in the east of Syria alongside American troops and Kurdish fighters of the People’s Defence Unit (YPG), a mainly Kurdish militia fighting in Syria. US army vehicles supporting the Syrian Democratic Forces in Hajin, in the Deir Ezzor province, eastern Syria, December 15, 2018. Credit: DELIL SOULEIMAN/AFP Kamiran Sadoun, a Syrian Kurdish journalist working for the Telegraph, spoke to injured fighters from the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) at a makeshift hospital at the al-Omar oil field in the evening of Saturday 5. "I was in the hospital when they brought three injured SDF fighters,” he said. “One was heavily injured and one of them was injured lightly and one of them was killed. "We asked them what happened. One said they were patrolling with the British, there were around 5-7 of them when the Isil thermal rocket - a guided missile - hit. Two or three of the British were heavily injured but all 5-7 of them were lightly injured." The attack occurred as allies and fighters in the region consider the impact of President Trump’s decision to withdraw US forces from the country. On December 19 Mr Trump stated that Isil had been defeated in Syria a and that troops would be coming home "now". Members of the Syrian Democratic Forces in Hajin, in the Deir Ezzor province, eastern Syria, on December 15, 2018. Credit: DELIL SOULEIMAN/AFP However, on Sunday John Bolton, the US National Security Adviser, confirmed reports that the withdrawal would be slower than the President suggested. He said Mr Trump was committed to defeating the remnants of Isil and “wants the caliphate destroyed”.  He also stated that the US withdrawal is conditional on Turkey agreeing not to target America’s Kurdish allies. Turkey must “meet the President’s requirement that the Syrian opposition forces that have fought with us are not endangered,” he said during a visit to Israel and Turkey. Also speaking on Sunday, Mr Trump denied the apparent volte-face: "We're going to be removing our troops. I never said we were doing it that quickly," he said. Emile Hokayem, Senior Research Fellow for Middle East Security at the International Institute for Strategic Studies, said Isil would be emboldened by news of an American withdrawal, describing President Trump’s new Syria policy as “messy”. “One can debate the merits and wisdom of the long-term US presence in north-east Syria," he said, "but certainly the way it was announced and the chaos that followed - with the resignation of [Defence Secretary James] Mattis and [Syria Special Envoy Brett] McGurk - really played to the advantage of the adversaries of the US and the West. “The US has become overly ambitious [in recent years]. The presence in eastern Syria was supposed to check and kick out Iran [and] it was supposed to ensure the enduring defeat of Isil. “The goals kept growing and there was a massive mismatch between the risk appetite of the Pentagon and the resources applied. “US policy has been bankrupt for many years, starting under Obama. The US was always going to face this kind of dilemma, this is not a purely Trump administration crisis. “The key problem was how this was announced, how it countered all the statements of senior US officials. “Trump makes things worse, but he didn’t create those dilemmas. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu shakes hands with White House National Security Adviser John Bolton as they meet on January 6, 2019 in Jerusalem, Israel. Credit: Getty Images Europe A security source told the Telegraph the attack on British and Kurdish forces shows that the war against Isil in Syria and Iraq is not over. “The enemy is still there and still active. Isil are not entirely defeated,” the source said. Although Britain operates in some parts of the world without US partners it is inconceivable British forces would continue to operate in Syria following a US withdrawal. The Telegraph understands that the tempo of operations has not diminished since Mr Trump’s decision and that US forces have not yet started disengaging from the region. The logistics of any withdrawal are likely to be hampered until the Spring by bad weather.   According to government statistics, RAF fighter jets and drones conducted 46 strikes against Isil targets in Syria in the first two weeks of December. The airstrikes helped expel Isil forces from the strategically important area of Hajin, near the Iraq border, described by the Ministry of Defence as “the terrorists last significant territory”. Defence Secretary Gavin Williamson, using an Arabic name for Isil, said: “The advance through Hajin is a huge milestone and shows that Daesh are being pushed further back into the shadows. “Make no mistake though, although this is another significant battle won, much hard work still lies ahead to ensure we win the war.”

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://yhoo.it/2RuyZrm

[archersherer-blog]

Source & Need As well as Purchasing A New Cars and truck.

Every thing that you have actually read about The Legend of Zelda: Respiration from the Wild is true, and afterwards some.. Yet automobiles eliminate folks, or even, much more efficiently, individuals steering vehicles kill individuals, equally as folks shooting weapons get rid of people. The cars and truck only sittings two, therefore I can't speak my partner into one for a loved ones auto, unfortunately. Concealed poor background - Vehicle dealers purposefully or even inadvertently forget to inform you that the automobile has been associated with a car collision. As good as manufacturing facility infomercial bodies are actually when you acquire the cars and truck, innovation adjustments rapidly. A really good disagreement will generally utilize a mixture from all three interest make its own scenario. Like most electric cars that should not be your initial long-distance choice - this possesses a range of roughly 161 kilometres (ONE HUNDRED kilometers) - however if many of your owning revolves around losing the children off at university and also reaching as well as coming from the office, the e-Golf will definitely manage that without any anxious glances at the electric battery's cost amount. Yes, you can easily review The Lover in a mid-day, or The Hr of the Celebrity in a couple of hours on a park bench along with a good coffee in palm, or you can rest along with The Shedding tears from Lot 49 one Tuesday night and make it through everything. In order to maximise the automobile's eco-friendliness, parts of the Fallen leave's inner parts and bodywork are actually made out from water bottles, plastic bags, recycled car parts and old home appliances. 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However in the long-term normal automobile servicing at a trusted and also counted on garage can save you a bunch of opportunity, issue as well as funds to keep your auto while driving as well as doing at its finest. The majority of contemporary autos are actually moderately reputable, which forecasted reliability is most likely why you're choosing a Toyota to begin with. Or even alternatively, you might merely receive one of these balloons that's shaped like an automobile with a few props connected to that. That won't satisfy your Blade Jogger fantasizes, however that also will not bankrupt you. Mountain Sight authorities pointed out that no accidents were actually mentioned, but the Google.com car had to be actually dragged away on a flatbed vehicle. 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So although driverless cars and trucks are safer as well as reduce a person's opportunity of fatality, motorists have a hard time to take the tip that they might be eliminated by an equipment, rather than through human mistake. You have to illustrate precision, review, thinking, automobile command, proper guiding as well as factor to consider for various other street users as you carry out the exercise. This is actually when most people decide to complete a step and also need to have auto transport. Bugatti doesn't state whether the Chiron will certainly possess Android Auto or Apple CarPlay assistance, but I do not assume the infomercial unit are going to hold off possible buyers. DriveClub's storm likeness is simply actions before any sort of auto racing video game on the market, not to mention Venture CARS AND TRUCKS. If you liked this post and you would like to acquire far more details relating to tastygro.info kindly stop by our web-site. Don't ship damaged cars and trucks or even leave your personal belongings in it. Most transporters are going to consent to shipping a broken cars and truck, but also for a specific charge. This is confirmed that cardio exercise is good for the soul, which is extremely important to total health and wellness. Mostly the automobiles must be ideal since they are actually taking a trip the exact same rate and also is going to appear terrific anyways on each, PC as well as PS4. In substantial off-airport long-stay parking area, you often follow signs that straight you to a specific area through which you discover a room to playground, just before boarding an unique, free-of-charge bus that quits at several bus stops installed around the car park prior to happening to the incurable.

[kidolegend]

Renewals - A Prompto Argentum Fic (Part 10)

Previous | AO3

Heyo!! We’ve reached the big 1-0 and the end of the introduction!! To all the readers, thank you so much for sticking with me through the start of this journey and here’s to the story taking off into the sunset!!

Any reblogs, comments, moral support, constructive criticism, or just some hellos are always appreciated~

Tagging: @cupnoodle-queen @blindbae @paopuicecream @xnoctits@themissimmortal@poisonous-panda @noxfreyas @insomniascure@thegoddesseos @crossedquills @sailormars109@valkyrieofardyn@ultimoogle @drpepper280 @decision-height @lithiumkatana17 @roses-and-oceans @@thirsty-angst-lord @e-addi

Introductions and Familiar Faces

Cleaning and mending Aylin’s wounds in the safety of Hammerhead was a much neater ordeal than the botched, messy cleanup Prompto had struggled through. Once Aranea--who naturally had some medical training as head of her mercenary troop--and Ignis had ensured that no other shards of metal had broken off inside the young woman’s wound, they were able to close it with a couple of potions and elixirs.

“Can’t go sealing up bullets or metal under the skin--it’s impossible to get out after.”

“Indeed. The same applies to broken bones--unless it is done shortly after the fracture or break, the injury needs to set properly before curatives can be used, or the magic will heal it incorrectly.”

Prompto nodded as he watched them work, still consumed with guilt for allowing Aylin to get hurt under his watch. “Kinda like that time Noct dislocated his knee and you wouldn’t let him use an elixir on it, right Iggy?”

“Yes, and it was quite an effort to restrain him from doing so. Although, the prospect of having to re-break and set it properly may have been a good enough deterrent, as he did not complain so much once I had explained it to him.”

“Hah, I’ll bet pretty boy really liked that.” Aranea sat back as Ignis applied the final elixir, reaching for the damp towel Prompto was wringing out and cleaning her hands. “Well, we did what we could. She’ll be all right.”

“Yes, it will be a couple of days before she will be well enough to fight again, but… She is alive.”

“Phew,” Prompto hadn’t realized how tense he had been until his muscles loosened up. “Thanks guys…”

“Of course.” Ignis dipped his head once.

“But there’s something I wanna know, Prompto.” Gladio spoke up from his chair across the room. He had been watching the entire ordeal quietly, only looking up from his book if a new pitcher of hot water or other supplies were needed.

“Yeah?”

“How’d you two end up fighting together?”

“O-oh. Well…” The blonde scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Geez, where do I begin…?”

Aylin didn’t wake up for several more hours. By then, Ignis and Gladio had retired to the room next door--Takka had been generous enough to lend the group use of the restaurant for the night--leaving Prompto to watch over the young woman as she rested.

The gunner had almost dozed off by the time Aylin woke up, her expression scrunching up in pain. “Aaah!!” She couldn’t stop the piercing cry that left her mouth as she attempted to sit up and failed spectacularly.

Prompto leapt to his feet, startled into alertness. “W-what? A-Aylin, you’re awake!”

She looked over her injuries and spotted the shrapnel that had been cleaned off and set off to the side of her bed, putting two and two together as she groaned in pain. A steady stream of curses left her mouth and she gritted her teeth.  "Are you feeling okay?" Prompto knew the question was stupid, but he had to ask anyways. "Well, to tell you the truth i feel like i just had a giant chunk of metal yanked out of my side,” Her voice was dry, but the look she gave him was good-natured. “But otherwise I’m faaantastic."  He didn’t take the joke as well as she thought he would. "Damn… I’m so sorry. I should have warned you, I knew it was going to happen but I got distracted and was stupid--”  Aylin raised her hands, regretting the motion as it sent another jab of pain through her abdomen. "Don't beat yourself up too much... I wasn't walking into that completely ignorant. I had seen the armors self-destruct before but was just as careless as you. No one's really at fault here."

A knock interrupted their conversation and Gladio stuck his head in.

“We heard a yell and came to check in.” He walked in once Prompto waved him over, followed closely by Ignis. “How’re you feeling?”

Aylin regarded the two men with wide eyes, intimidated by their sudden appearance. She glanced over a Prompto and after noticing he was completely at ease with them, relaxed. “I...I’ve been better.” She replied honestly.

Gladio huffed out a laugh and Ignis’ lips quirked up into a small smile. She blinked at them for another moment before speaking again.

"Sooo… Gladiolus Amicitia and Ignis Scientia, right?"

The two men looked surprised and Gladio shot an exasperated glance at Prompto. "Wow, how much of our life stories has Prompto blabbed about already?"

"H-hey," Prompto gave a small noise of protest, but Aylin chuckled.  "Not Prompto, actually. The Marshall, Cor the Immortal. He told all the hunters to keep an eye and ear out for your names... And warned less experienced hunters to steer clear since some pretty serious dangers tend to follow you guys around."  They all exchanged bemused looks. "Well, he's definitely not wrong about that."  "Indeed... We are a rather inconspicuous lot, given that detail."  "He also told the veteran or higher-tier hunters that keeping an eye on you all or even lending a helping hand might be valuable experience." Aylin continued.  "Hn, I'm guessing since you helped Prompto take out that military base, you're more from that group." Gladio remarked.  "Well, I'm definitely not an amateur, at least. But obviously" she gestured at the wound in her side. "I still have quite a ways to go before I can say I've truly honed my skill."  "Eh, mistakes happen." Aylin noticed Gladio's fingers skimming a scar that cut across his forehead as he brushed back his hair.  "Yes, even to those who are most prepared," Ignis had a rather tight-lipped smile on his face and the grip on his cane tightened.

Another knock signaled Aranea’s appearance. Aylin’s expression went from tense to flustered.

“M-Miss Highwind?!”

The silver-haired woman resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Just Aranea, kid. Don’t make me sound older than I am.” She gave a small sigh, her tone softening. “One of the guys told me about Levant… Sorry to hear it.”

Aylin was taken aback and she ducked her head a little. “O-oh. I… Thanks.”

There was no indication of further dialogue that would come from the younger girl, so Aranea bit back another sigh and spoke up again. “Your brother would’ve been proud of you, y’know.”

Aylin looked back up at her, eyes shining and cheeks bright red. “You think so?”

“Hell yeah. Kicking Niff ass and helping the Prince’s best friend? He’s probably jealous of you, if anything.”

Aylin gave a small laugh, holding her injured side. “I guess he would be.”

After the group exchanged more pleasantries and Ignis checked Aylin’s wounds again, everyone left for their respective rooms.

Prompto lingered behind a bit, waving Ignis and Gladio off and promising he’d be following them shortly. “So, are you sure you’re okay?”

Aylin had settled back down to rest. Her expression was tired, but her voice was carefully even. “I’m doing better.” She gave him a look. “...You’re not still blaming yourself, are you?”

The blond’s face flushed. “Ah… you got me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I already told you not to worry about it. It was just a stroke of bad luck, nothing new for me.”

Prompto nodded, unconvinced. “A-anyways… It was fun, fighting with you as my ally.”

A tiny smile appeared on Aylin’s face. “Thanks. I… I haven’t really gone on any hunts with people since Lev… But it was pretty nice.”

“I guess you can say we made a good team, right?” Prompto turned to face her and gave her a quick wink and pointed his fingers in what he believed would be a suave manner.

She burst out laughing, grimacing at the sharp stabbing pain in her side but still grinning at Prompto’s corniness nonetheless. “I guess we do.”

“Ahaha… Well, get some shut eye, m’kay?”

“I will, and Prompto?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for looking out for me.” Aylin gave him a smile.

The blonde found himself blushing in spite of himself and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I… Sure thing. G’night.”