#cannot believe this was ‘resolved’ with an ‘I’m proud of you’ and ‘thanks for everything’

[poebrey]

Imagine getting adopted after your parents were brutally murdered through circumstances that were seemingly your fault, being told that it was so you could serve as both an experiment (for your foster father to prove humans could follow Vulcan teachings) and a tool (for your foster brother’s development), seemingly failing both of them, then later being told by your foster mother who you thought you had a healthy relationship with that the reason you were given as much love and affection as you were when you were a child was because it had to be denied to the child she really wanted to give it to, her real child. Oh and that she thought you were the reason your family was falling apart. Michael is a better person than me because I would’ve said fuck everyone and taken a nap.

[aeoki]

SS Finals - Epilogue 8

Location: SS Finals Live Stage Characters: Touri, Eichi, Hiyori & Nagisa

Touri: …Thank you, Hiyori-sama.

Hiyori: Heheh. I haven’t done anything warranting a thank-you, though.

Touri: No matter what the reason was, it doesn’t change the fact that you still saved me when I collapsed. You protected me and gave me strength to stand up on my own two feet once more.

No. You inspired me and gave me a dream. Did you know? I wanted to be an idol after I saw your performance as part of “fine”.

Hiyori: So I’ve heard. Well, it’s an honour.

…I didn’t really want to be an idol in the beginning.

But Nagisa-kun kept saying how he wanted to be one, so maybe he influenced me…

I didn’t enrol into Yumenosaki because I wanted to be an idol – I did so because I wanted to walk beside Nagisa-kun. It’s not a very nice motive, huh.

Afterwards, a lot of awful things happened and I actually started hating it all. 

The practices are always hard, and there are times where you can never be rewarded no matter how hard you try…

But I feel alive when I’m on stage.

Ahh, I’m right here! I’m alive! I love this job because it makes me feel that way! I’m really glad I chose this path!

It doesn’t matter what started it! Doesn’t matter if it was for money or fame!

But even so, if we’re able to stand on stage as fellow idols, then we should share these feelings of happiness and euphoria, right?

Let’s make it shine even more! We��ll do it all together!

Let’s smile and shower everyone with a joy that’s strong enough to blow away all of their sorrows and darkness!

Touri: Yeah…☆

(That’s fine for now – for when we’re on stage.)

(Right now, I’ll just be a part of this radiance.)

(I did collapse from the weight of the hardships and worries of it all.)

(But I wanted to look better! I wanted to be someone exceptional without having to feel ashamed!)

(But I still have so far to go in order to be the ideal me…)

(That’s really frustrating.)

(But tomorrow, I’ll be an even better version of myself. I’ll believe in that and I’ll fight against the cruel reality once I’m off stage.)

(I’ll resolve my issues one at a time and grow into someone strong and amazing.)

(I’ll be someone I’m proud of and I’ll shine even brighter on stage!)

(Just like Hiyori-sama, Eichi-sama and the other idols I respect! If I fall down, I’ll get up over and over again, and I’ll soar through the sky!)

(I’ll brighten up the world! Just like the sun!)

“♪~♪~♪”

Hiyori: “~......”

Nagisa: …What a happy ending.

Eichi: Do you really think so?

Nagisa: …Of course not. The pressing matter has been taken care of – that’s all there is to it.

…I committed a crime. I eliminated a human being due to my negative emotions.

…That sin cannot disappear. It won’t be allowed to.

…I think I’ve understood your feelings a bit, Eichi-kun.

Eichi: Really, now? I still have no clue what you could possibly be feeling, though.

It seems you’re able to deceive others with those pretty words you utter like a holy saint. But you can’t fool me, Nagisa-kun.

Nagisa: …………

Eichi: You should have obtained a great power this time.

You must have gotten a reward for teaming up with “Gatekeeper” to subjugate his arch-enemy, “Priest”.

That’s the sort of man “Gatekeeper” is. He’s rather upright – his nature and position won’t allow him to move unless he has calculated all of his losses and gains.

That’s a truth I confirmed when I negotiated with him during “SANCTUARY”.

“Gatekeeper” left satisfied.

“Priest” may have been his arch-enemy, but was defeating him after leaving him alone all that time really meaningful for him?

No. He also obtained something else he wanted.

He obtained the legitimate successor of the God he loved.

Nagisa: …………

Eichi: Subaru-kun’s father didn’t want that. “Priest” was just a substitute and was lacking in ability and everything else.

But you’d be the perfect person to inherit that position and status.

That was proven with how you twisted everything around your finger and led all these events to unfold in the way they did – You have the skills for it.

You’ll become the next god. A new god. “Gatekeeper” must have interrogated “Priest” and gotten information about all the vested interests that exist in this industry.

But “Gatekeeper” doesn’t have an interest in idols. He already learnt that he'd only burn his hand if he touched this industry carelessly.

So he can’t use the thing he went through so much trouble to obtain.

That’s why he’ll leave all those things to the legitimate successor of the god he loved. There was someone else that god loved apart from Subaru-kun’s father.

That’s you. You’ll rule over the industry as the new king of darkness who will inherit everything from “Priest’s” assets to his personal connections and influential power.

You’ll control it all from this idol industry – from the world we all love.

Nagisa: …………

Eichi: Money is still money no matter how dirty it is.

The clean power that was purified in a ceremony called “SS” as well as everything “Priest” had in his possession will be yours.

You act like the sore loser when in fact you’re the real winner in all of this. You pretend to be a pious martyr but in reality, you became the new god.

An entity so great that it could even become an object of belief.

The next, latest god.

What do you intend on doing with that power?

Nagisa: …Nothing currently.

…I won’t say it’s not as though I wished to become god. But everything I gained this time was a reward I did not expect.

…I’ll take my time to think about how I’ll use it all once the new year is here.

…But I’ll say just one thing, Eichi-kun.

…You bear a human vessel but you’ll continue to distort the world like a god.

…You’ll continue to warp this reality according to your dream.

…If you end up going mad or become filled with malice and turn into a calamity that will destroy everything…

…Then, this time, I will stop you before everything comes to an end.

…I won’t pretend I never saw anything ever again.

…Surely, ”divine punishment” awaits the foolish humans who trespass God's dominion.

Eichi: I’ll bear that in mind.

Oh, but, hehe ♪ I shouldn’t be delighted but I can’t help but stifle a laugh. It seems an interesting story will continue to unfold in the future.

My relationship with Touri, you – a new threat, the idol industry that continues to decay despite the source of its corruption being eradicated… There is a huge pile of issues and the causes for my headaches are never-ending.

But it seems that’s precisely why I cannot kick the bucket just yet.

No. It would be a waste for it to come to a fine (end) right here ♪

Nagisa: …I feel the same way, old friend.

…I cannot stop here because of the weight of my sins.

Nagisa: …There is a vast world in front of us.

…Let’s turn it into an Eden where the people I love can live there happily with a smile.

…In order to make that happen, we’ll move forwards while shouldering our sins – one step at a time.

Eichi: Together, we will, Nagisa-kun.

Nagisa: …Right, Eichi-kun.

…I won’t let anything go this time.

“♪~♪~♪”

Eichi: “♪~♪~♪”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter

[four-loose-screws]

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 10 Section 8

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

Chapter 10: New Resolve (Section 8)

Pherae, territory of the Lycian League…

There, the entire castle was grieving. Though they had first received the news from a messenger, now that they had seen their lord’s dead body with their own eyes, everyone who had served him, from the cavaliers, to the soldiers, to his attendants, could not hold back their tears, and sobbed loudly.

Though his successor Eliwood was not there, Elbert’s funeral was held right away by Eleanora’s order. Some of their retainers expressed the opinion that they should wait until Eliwood’s return home, but Eleanora could not bear to see her husband’s body exposed for such an unknown amount of time.

“...My love. …I still cannot believe that you are gone…”

In Pherae Castle’s throne room…

Was Eleanora, looking at the sparingly decorated throne enshrined within, whispering in her loneliness.

She imagined Elbert sitting upon the throne and smiling. The scene so vivid to her that it was as if he was really there.

“...Darling, if you can hear my voice, wherever you are… then please do everything you can to protect Eliwood…” Eleanora prayed, reminiscing her memories of her beloved husband.

Marcus appeared just as she finished saying those words. “Lady Eleanora. The soldiers from Ostia we requested are here to serve as your bodyguards.”

“...They are? Thank you for all of your hard work.” Eleanora wiped the corners of her eyes so as not to show her tears, then expressed her gratitude to him.

“Now, I will trust them to guard the castle, and return to Lord Eliwood’s side.”

“Understood. Thank you for your service, General… Right now all Pherae wishes for is to see that he stays safe…”

Eleanora would act brave no matter what.

Knowing that her heart was on the verge of breaking, he shared the vow he’d been keeping to himself. “Please rest assured that I will protect him!” He said to instill courage in her.

Then, they heard a voice that neither of them was expecting.

“Mother…”

“Eliwood?! Where? Where are you?” There was no mistaking it. She’d heard her son’s voice, giving her heart the strength it needed right now.

Marcus also looked around while questioning whether or not he was hearing things.

Before them, a giant magic circle was etched into the ground, and a magical light shone from it. It was so bright that they closed their eyes, and once they felt that it was gone and opened their eyes, Eliwood and his allies were all standing there.

“Mother! I’m home!!”

“Ah! Is it really you, Eliwood? How did you return like that… you gave me quite a scare…” At her son’s sudden reappearance, Eleanora felt more happy than surprised.

He immediately rushed over and hugged her, then smiled. “I’m sorry. The Archbishop sent us…”

“You look tired. …And have you lost weight? Oh, come closer and let me see your face.”

Having finally reunited with him after such a long time, Eleanora stared at him lovingly.

Though it relieved him to see his mother after all this time and looking better than he thought she would be, he was hesitant as he began to speak to her. “...Mother, about Father…”

“I heard that his last moments were glorious. Though he is gone, we will always be proud of him… won’t we?”

"Yes." He could still remember the image of his father, unyielding to Nergal even on death's doorstep and ever loyal to his own will and beliefs, as if it had just happened.

Marquess Elbert was undoubtedly someone he was proud of.

"But most importantly right now… how about you all relax here? You need your rest."

"No, Mother. I'm sorry, but we're in a hurry…"

"I understand. …But spend the night here at the castle… Eliwood… Please, just for tonight."

She understood from the information Marcus had reported to her why her son had to hurry. But as his mother, she couldn't suppress her wish to spend time with him, even if the time they had was short. 

Marcus picked up on how she felt and said, "Lord Eliwood, I request that you spend the night as well. Not just your mother, but everyone else here at the castle will be happy to see your face..."

"Marcus…"

It was not only his blood relatives mourning his father’s death. Everyone who served Pherae was filled with sadness.

He understood that. 

But if they did not hurry, then it might bring sadness to many more people. 

Seeing his best friend lost in worry and torn between his duty and those he loved, Hector opened his mouth. "Surely it'll be fine if we just stay one night? We don't know… when we'll be back."

"Yes, let's stay! I'm really tired!" Lyn said, making an effort to look as exhausted as possible.

Their arguments put Eliwood’s heart at ease. "Hector, Lyn… Thank you."

ー

[madameriasims4]

[Retired] Off-the-Grid Typewriter v.3 (BGC)

January 16, 2024 Edit:

This typewriter is now retired and no longer supported! I haven't played TS4 in a long time and haven't kept up with the updates so certain interactions may not function any more.

This typewriter uses custom tuning. For more information on the tuning process, and a more detailed changelog, see this post.

DL link and wall of text regarding interactions after the cut!

September 15, 2021 Edit: Version 3 is now out! Please replace any previous versions with MadameRiaTypewriterOTGv3. You cannot have both in your game at the same time!

What’s new in version 3:

Freelance writing career should now be fully functional! My testing abilities were not so great when I first made this mod, and I completely missed how the game checks for objective completion. This should be resolved now.

Basically a re-do of the custom tuning, making it much simpler thanks to @ravasheencc​‘s help

I can't be the only person with an aspiring author Sim that wants to isolate themselves off-the-grid in a cabin and write novels nonstop, write right? (Actually, I believe this is a Secret Simblr Wish over at @maxismatchccworld​, though I’d started working on this before I saw the request)

Colored in @serindipitysims​‘s The Historian Palette because it may have been the obvious choice, but it was also the right choice. (Plus two swatches that I was using while I was testing everything, because I'm partial to multiples of 5).

I'm really, really proud of how this typewriter came out! I edited the mesh from the base game Writer's Lore object, and then I went and re-textured about 90% of the darned thing. I even made a custom specular map for it! Let me know if you feel like it's still too shiny!

Теперь переведено на русский язык! Машинка скачать здесь! Спасибо SofiRing!

A big thank you to SofiRing of the Mods Hunters  translation group! She reached out to me to let me know that she  translated my OTG Typewriter into Russian!

What you can do with this typewriter:

Pretty much every writing interaction (Practice writing, write books, write jokes, compose comedy routines)

Pen Pal Interactions

Freelance Writing Career

Limited Interactions for the Conservationist, Detective, Education, Gardener, Law, Military, Social Media, Style Influencer, Writer Careers (Essentially the same as the Freelance limitations - nothing that would obviously require internet)

Write Dollhouse Story, Practice Typing

Write Love Letter (changed from Write Love Email)

Write About Feelings (changed from Blog About Feelings)

Write Term Papers/Study for University Courses

You can put this typewriter in your inventory and drag it in live mode, but like a laptop, will only place on desks/dining tables.

What you can't do with this typewriter:

Essentially, anything that would only make sense with a screen or internet connection

Go on Vacation/Purchase Property

January 16, 2024 Edit:

This typewriter is now retired and no longer supported! I haven't played TS4 in a long time and haven't kept up with the updates so certain interactions may not function any more.

Download (Patreon) Always free, no ads.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Nothing Left (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @geekandbooknerd 2k Writing Challenge. Congratulations again, Hayley, you deserve each and every one of us 🌻

The gif is a dead giveaway: this piece is an angsty one 😬 Sorry about that but I feel like I can’t write fluff all the time 😉

Prompt in bold

Thanks to @zuxiezendler for beta reading this for me (hope you don't mind Hayley, but since it was for your challenge... 😉)

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Leaving Ivar is not an easy task.

Warnings: angst; Ivar's temper; physical assault (no harm done, though); Freydis is beautiful; no happy ending (you've been warned).

Words: 2089

Crutch – right foot – left foot – crutch – right foot – left foot

You can hear him coming. Of course, you can.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He's not yet in your shared bedroom and he's already shouting. Instead of turning around, you grab the little carved wooden wolf he gifted you many years ago and put it in your pouch.

As he stabs the wooden floor with his crutch, you can physically feel his anger. "You thought you could sneak out? Uh?" You know his jaw is clenched, and he's probably shaking with rage.

"This is what you intended to do, admit it!"

You just scoff. No, you didn't intend to sneak out, not in your wildest dreams. Not with White Hair's men everywhere, night and day.

A thump – his fist hitting the table, you'd say – and then a roar.

"ANSWER YOUR KING!!!!!"

Glancing over your shoulder, you give him a tired, defeated smile. You don't want to fight. You never wanted to. "What does it look like to you, Ivar? Do you really think I'm trying to sneak out? Of course, I'm not."

"Rumors are false, that's what you're saying?" He snorts and, taking two more steps into the room, he joins you. "What's that, then?" He gestures angrily toward a wooden trunk, filled to the brim with your belongings, mostly dresses and a few jewels.

"I'm leaving, if that's what rumors say, Ivar, I'm just not sneaking out." You speak softly while closing the trunk.

A wide-eyed look on his face, he can't hide his surprise at your easy admission but he quickly pulls himself together, straightening up and towering over you.

"You can't. I forbid you." Giving you an intimidating look, he grits his teeth.

You barely shake your head. There's so much sadness in your heart. "Of course, I can. I'm not asking for permission, you know? I'm leaving, whether you like it or not."

That's when he explodes, his bottom lip quivering. "I SAID, I FORBID YOU! FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, YOU WILL DO AS YOU'RE TOLD, Y/N! I. AM. YOUR. KING!"

His scream is so loud that you can't help but take a step back. But you don't lower your gaze. You won't. You can't. So, keeping your chin up, you inhale slowly. "And I'm still a free woman, Ivar. I'm leaving today."

You know the man you once loved is not going to make that so easy for you. So, you're not surprised when he grabs your wrist so firmly you can't shake him off. Tossing his crutch on the floor, he places his now free hand on your shoulder. Looking at him, you can tell you've rarely seen him this angry. Never releasing the pressure on your wrist, he throws you against the nearest wall so hard that the back of your skull makes a resounding "clunk".

He leans in close to you, his breath stinking faintly of honeyed mead, and presses the weight of his body against you. "You're not leaving, Y/N." He then moves his hand from your shoulder to your throat and the air is immediately stolen from you as you stare into his now darkened eyes. With your right hand still pinned to the wall, you only have your left to defend yourself. You're slapping him, clawing at him, but you may as well be tickling him with a feather – your scratches and punches have no effect on him whatsoever.

"I could kill you, Y/N. Maybe I should." The threat is clear, obvious, but Ivar loosens his grip just enough for you to breathe. He won't harm you. Not yet anyway.

Clearing your throat, you don't look away. "Maybe you should. It wouldn't be the worst thing for me, you know? One way or another, I wouldn't be here anymore."

Your words sting, you can see it on his face as he steps away, wobbling and dumbstruck.

Slowly leaning forward, you grab his discarded crutch before giving it back to him. "Here." You mutter before taking a seat on the bed. Ivar follows suit, flopping down next to you.

Blinking several times, Ivar is obviously trying to come to terms with what you just said. "So, you'd rather be dead than here? With me?" His voice is shaking and he fidgets with his fingers on his lap.

"Ivar, there's nothing left here for me… Nothing… We just don't understand each other anymore, you know that. I don't understand you anymore, Ivar. Since Wessex, you've changed so much…"

You've tried. You've tried very hard. But this man, this king, is no longer the man you fell in love with.

"It's about Sigurd, isn't it?" Ivar asks sadly, but you immediately shake your head.

"No Ivar, you know it's not. I told you, even though I wish you hadn't killed him, I understand why you did it. And I know you didn't want to."

"It's about my legs, then." His face suddenly hardens but you know him, he always hides his pain behind anger. "I knew it. I knew this day would come. You're tired of the cripple, admit it."

Without thinking, you grab his hand, entwining his fingers with yours. As much as you resent him for what he has become, you can't let him run himself down like this. " It has nothing to do with your legs. Your legs have never bothered me, and they never will. You're stronger than all other men, not in spite of your legs, but because of them. Actually, you're the strongest man I know, and I've always felt proud to walk beside you, or to be your woman. I forbid you to doubt it."

"Why, then?" Ivar is so soft now, seems to be so… broken, you have to remind yourself why you're leaving. You have to remind yourself of the horror.

Closing your eyes, you conjure up frightful images behind your eyelids.

"You killed Margrethe, Ivar. You didn't have to do that."

He tenses beside you, releasing his hand from your grip. "She was talking rubbish all the time, she was spreading rumors about me, you know that!!"

"She was insane, Ivar! She was no danger, neither to you nor to anyone. And as for the rumors, I'm loud enough for people to know that you can pleasure a woman. She was harmless, and you killed her, and that, Ivar, I can't understand. And then, you did worse. You killed Thora." You can't help but wince, the stench of burning flesh still so vivid in your mind, you'd swear it's real.

Fuming, Ivar points an accusing finger at you. "She defaced my image. She was plotting behind my back. She was conspiring, criticizing me. She saw me as a tyrant while I was just trying to rule well. She was a FUCKING DANGER!"

Startled by his shout, you stand up hastily. "You burned her alive, Ivar!! You burned her entire family. Asbjorn, her brother, had not yet seen his tenth spring. And you killed him!" You know he can see the disgust on your face, and the truth is, you don't care. He deserves your disgust. He deserves your contempt. He deserves you falling out of love with him. "Thora was your brother's lover and she was my friend and you burned her alive!!! How could you?" Your hands tangled in your hair, you shake your head, still barely able to process the horror of what he did.

"And what was I supposed to do, huh?" Ivar seems unshaken, and it strengthens your resolve. He doesn't know between good and evil, not anymore. You want to reply that he could have exiled her, or had her thrown in jail, but to what end? What's done is done, and your former lover is a monster now.

"It doesn't matter, Ivar… What matters is that you're like a stranger. I don't know who you are anymore. Since this girl, you've changed." You shrug, blinking back tears.

Ivar rolls his eyes. "So that's what it was all about? I can't believe you're jealous, Y/N. This girl… It's just a... thrall"

Oh gods! There's none so deaf as those that will not hear, right?

"I'm not jealous, Ivar. She was naked on your lap, but I'm not jealous. Or maybe I was, but it doesn't matter anymore. And I don't give a damn about what or who she is. But she was whispering nonsense in your ear, and since then you've changed. I don't recognize you anymore. You're no longer the man I loved, Ivar..." Your words are genuine, your heart full of sorrow.

Still sitting on the bed, Ivar tilts his head. "You... You can't leave me, Y/N. What... What will I do without you?" His quivering voice sends shivers down your spine. But you won't change your mind. This man in front of you, unsure and insecure, is nothing but a ghost of who he once was. The boy you loved is gone. Dead. Killed by his inner demons.

Swallowing, Ivar slowly stands up, and frowns when you step back. "Y/N," he speaks again, reaching out but to no avail as you stubbornly put your hands on your back, "you're the person I don't need to explain myself to – not when it matters. You see everything I am and you don't run away from it. I... I can't do without you."

Your eyes filling with tears, you shake your head. "I can't be this person anymore, Ivar. I've tried, but I can't. I don't know you at all anymore. You've become the monster that people thought you were. You're paranoid, and narcissistic, and self-centered. You're cruel, and mean, and fearsome. I won't lie, sometimes I still see a shadow of the man – the boy – you used to be. But most of the time, what I see in your eyes is something scary and unfamiliar. I have said it before and I will say it again. I don't recognize you anymore, Ivar. I don't know who you are. You've done terrible things, which I cannot and will not forget and forgive. That's why I'm leaving." Pointing to the trunk, you bite the inside of cheek until it bleeds. "I'll send someone to get it later."

Heading out, you don't wait for his answer. There's nothing he can say that is going to change your mind.

Yet, you stop in your tracks when he calls your name, "Y/N!" his voice sounding like a wounded animal. Slowly turning around, you can see a single tear running down his face. "Please..." He begs and it kills you, because Ivar the Boneless doesn’t beg; never begs. For a fleeting moment, your resolve falters. Maybe you can still save your love. Maybe you can bring back the man he was. Maybe it's not too late. Maybe...

And then, a shadow slips between the heavy doors of the great hall and you recognize the thrall. She's undoubtedly beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Flawless.

Without even according you a glance, she walks with a confident stride and as soon as Ivar sees her, you can tell you cease to exist for him. Enthralled, he watches her every step, a sparkle dancing in his eyes.

Tears flow on your cheeks, but it doesn't matter. You were right.

This is the end.

It's like torture but you can't bring yourself to walk away. So, you watch. You see Ivar closing the gap between them, inviting her to sit down, pouring mead into a cup and handing it to her. "How are you? I've been thinking about you." You feel like you're going to throw up as you see the smile on his lips; as you realize how easily he forgot about you.

His next question nearly kills you. "Are you married?"

You can't believe your ears. You can't stay here anymore. You can't breathe.

You don't want to hear her answer. You know what she will say. And at this moment, deep down inside, you know he will marry her. Of course, he will. He will marry her because she will always be willing to whisper in his ear what he wants to hear.

A blond woman, attractive and seemingly submissive – you know better, but Ivar doesn't –swaying her hips... That's all it takes for Ivar to forget you.

You. Can't. Breathe.

You won't die here from a shattered heart, though. Your pride won't allow it. So, stumbling, your head spinning, you walk away, your fist in your mouth to keep you from screaming.

You were right. There's nothing left.

Nothing.

🛡⚔️🛡

@geekandbooknerd @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace

[ayuuria]

Yashahime Translation: Prince Animage May 2021 Issue (Part 1)

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

Due to the amount of content in the magazine, I have decided to the split the translation into three parts as follows

Part 1: Elder Son’s Resolve! Interview with Director Satou Teruo

Part 2: We Won’t Give Up On the Future! Father-Daughter Round-Table Talk with Narita Ken, Matsumoto Sara, and Komatsu Mikako

Part 3: The Strength to Overcome Destiny. Interview with Director Satou Teruo

Please note that there are two interview articles with Director Satou in this magazine.

The Strength and Pride of a Beast King

The Beast King of the West’s (The Dog General) eldest son, Sesshōmaru. He is far from the stereotypical image of an eldest son being “A reliable elder brother who protects his younger brother” or “A filial pious male heir”.

He once clashed with his half-demon half-brother, Inuyasha, many times. Also, instead of ruling over the western lands in place of his late father, he continues a wandering journey. However, his outstanding ability and noble mindedness that can overwhelm others is that of a beast king’s eldest son. Always treading the path he believes in, he is an aloof existence who never sucks up to anyone, no matter how backed into a corner he gets. That is the way of life for Sesshōmaru, the one who inherits the blood of a beast king.

That stance does not change, even with his own daughters, Towa and Setsuna. He does not spoil them because they are his daughters. On the contrary, he is sending them on a difficult path. Even when his second daughter, Setsuna, lost her life as result, he never grieved.

At a glance, Sesshōmaru’s actions appear collected, but behind that he must surely be hiding his own conviction. Though we cannot yet see the full picture of what Sesshōmaru is thinking, let us wait for the second chapter (season) while believing in the strength and pride of the eldest son!

Sesshōmaru The Eldest Son of the Beast King of the West. A proud demon with greater demon parents. Though he is not on good terms with his younger brother, Inuyasha, when Kirinmaru tried to fell Inuyasha, Sesshōmaru sent Inuyasha inside the black pearl.

Family

Parents: The Dog General and his wife

Siblings: Younger half-brother, Inuyasha (different mothers)

How He’s Addressed: “Sesshōmaru”

When One Says Eldest Son, (one thinks) “Stubborn” Looks Like He Will not Show Affection for A While?

In episode 18, Sesshōmaru gallantly appeared before Towa and the others as they fell into a tight spot battling Kirinmaru. Even though he fended off Kirinmaru and saved his daughters, he left the scene without a word. There is a glimpse of Sesshōmaru’s obstinate heart when Jaken asks him “What about the two of them?” and he answers, “Don’t say anything”.

When One Says Eldest Son, (one thinks) “Pride” One Who Inherits the Blood of the General of the West

The pride he has for the beast king blood he got from his father is an aspect you can’t leave off when talking about Sesshōmaru. During the time of “Inuyasha”, it was that pride that made Sesshōmaru dislike and look down upon humans and half-demons. However, because of his meeting with the young girl, Rin, and moving with her, a kind heart slowly started to bud within him.

When One Says Eldest Son, (one thinks) “Harshness” Spartan Training for Even His Daughters

Though it was to hide them from Zero and Kirinmaru, to take his daughters away from their mother immediately after birth and imposing a “rite of courage and cowardice”? Even with Setsuna’s death before him, he entrusts Towa with Tenseiga, (a sword) that can resurrect a dead person only once, but the blade is broken… His harsh trial for his daughters will continue in the second chapter (season)?!

Pay Attention to These Eldest Sons Too!

Kohaku Eldest son of the demon slayer clan. During his youth, he had a somewhat unreliable side to him compared to his elder sister, Sango. However now, he has matured splendidly, both mentally and physically. Taking over from his late father, he became the head of the demon slayers.

Hisui Miroku and Sango’s eldest son. He has two older twin sisters, Kin’u and Gyokuto, who do things at their own pace. For a long time, whether it was just from the rebelliousness of an eldest son , he misunderstood his father as a greedy and cowardly person. However, in episode 13, he changed his perception.

Sōta The eldest son of the Higurashi family and Kagome’s younger brother. Towa’s adoptive father. He saw Kagome fighting demons during his childhood, so he more or less does not get phased easily. Even when Towa returned to the feudal era, he gave her a gentle push.

Kirinmaru It is not known if he has other siblings aside from his older sister, Zero, but one can sense the personality of an eldest son from his imposing appearance. Whether it is towards his elder sister, the severity in his roar might even get through to Sesshōmaru.

Eldest Son’s Resolve!

Formerly, there was special regard for the eldest son as the “heir to the clan”. However now, there is a diversity in worth. If there are neets, then there are also vagrant sons and there are even families that are not blood related! Various eldest sons who are each fighting in their own fields, gather around~!

Good Brothers, Good Rivals Director Satō Teruo

— Where do you think Sesshōmaru’s charm as an eldest son lies?

Satō: Even if you say elder brother, Sesshōmaru’s relationship with Inuyasha is that of a half-brother. You may not really get a sense of an eldest son or elder brother but… I think he’s fundamentally a nice person. For the sake of his goals, he’s willing to move (others) in a way that’s convenient for him, whether it be his younger brother or children. However, in truth, it’s also for their sake and it’s like despite everything, he won’t treat everyone badly.

— That’s a little elder brother like.

Satō: He clashed with Inuyasha for a long time but over time, he took action in a way that would become proper support. Although, I don’t know just how far Sesshōmaru planned things. He has a “Whether they live or die is up to them” kind of thinking. It’s possible that the actions Inuyasha chose to take just happened to turn out well.

— In “Hanyō no Yashahime”, there was a phrase that came up for the daughters’ trial = “Rite of Courage and Cowardice”. Could that harshness also be eldest son like?

Satō: Even during the “Inuyasha” era, Sesshōmaru would always back Inuyasha into a corner but Inuyasha overcame and crawled his way up. Not only do I think that Inuyasha was able to grow because he had that high wall known as Sesshōmaru, but if Sesshōmaru hadn’t been there, it’s possible that Inuyasha wouldn’t have been able to battle Naraku. I feel that the two of them are good brothers and good rivals. In that term, I think Sesshomaru has some amount of faith in Inuyasha.

— By the way, are you an eldest son yourself, director Satō?

Satō: I’m the same as Sōta, Kohaku, and Hisui in that I’m the “eldest son who’s also the youngest child”. For some reason, there are many eldest sons who are the youngest child in this work so somehow, I felt close to them. Being the eldest son while also being the youngest child is completely different from being the eldest son and child. Everything is based on the elder sisters’ mood! (laughs) My two older sisters would mimic Pink Lady (translator’s note: A pop duo from the late 1970s) and I would applause as I watched. There’s an image that that’s how eldest sons who are also the youngest child are thoroughly trained on “how to read the mood” (laughs).

— Sōta certainly is able to read the mood. He was completely unphased when Setsuna, Moroha, and the demon came from the feudal era.

Satō: Sōta has nerves of steel doesn’t he. Thanks to seeing Kagome and Inuyasha go back and forth to the feudal era right before his eyes, even when Setsuna, Moroha, and the demon appeared, he just took a philosophic view like “Ahahaha… See, I always told you. There are demons”. Being able to adapt to their surroundings like “that’s just how it is” I think is a trait of eldest sons who are also the youngest child (laughs).

— What about Kohaku’s aspects of being an eldest son?

Satō: Kohaku at present is splendidly carrying on the family work as the head of the demon slayers, though it’s not a large family like in the past. I think while carrying the pride he inherited from both his father and elder sister, he’s trying to protect the work of demon slaying. When thinking of Sango as an elder sister, she seems kind of scary (laughs).

— Hisui also inherited the family work.

Satō: You’re right, inheriting Hiraikotsu from Sango. With uncle Kohaku’s existence, it’s possible that Hisui felt “he wanted to do the same thing” during his childhood days, like how children from kabuki families do so to speak.

— If we’re talking eldest son with an older sister, it’s Kirinmaru.

Satō: That is the case. Kirinmaru was a beast king who ruled over the east and stood alongside the Dog General so he’s already a feudal lord/head of the house. There was the phrase “Don’t get carried away” that he said to Zero. As the head, he was admonishing his sister who lacked a sense of justice. I think that dislike for half-demons comes from their position. In the second chapter (season), a new key person will appear in the story. Kirinmaru’s family relationship will become more complex again going forward so please pay attention to how that relationship in regards with Sesshōmaru’s family will turn out.

[luna-rainbow]

First off I wanted to thank you for feeding us with all of the tfatws critiques lately, and I hope we're not annoying you with all the asks you've been getting about it recently. It's been really great to know that I'm not the only one with issues with the show and your posts are always super insightful to read.

The entire way that the writers handled Zemo in the show makes me want to punch myself in the face. It’s so OOC for Bucky to release him under any circumstance. The writers really expected me to buy into rebranding him as a likable anti hero when he tore the Avengers apart, retraumatized Bucky, and ruined Team Caps lives. They literally cared more about trying to make Zemo likable than they did addressing the trauma that he inflicted on Bucky. He violated Bucky in the same way that HYDRA did and shows now remorse for it. It’s hardly even mentioned and they put more weight on Zemo forgiving Bucky (“I hold no grudges against you for what you thought you had to do” which, what? I don’t even understand what he’s forgiving Bucky for or even talking about here) than Bucky forgiving Zemo--which by the way, Bucky is under zero obligation to do and frankly I wouldn’t even want him to. We need to stop telling people that they need to forgive their abusers in order to move on. Yes, for some people it works. But for others it doesn’t and both are valid forms of healing.

Bucky should have shot him in the face.

Sorry this is so long lol, I’m just really mad.

Thanks for the ask! I have to say I'm getting really amazing asks these days so it's all you guys inspiring me with interesting thoughts!

I have a feeling this is going to get long because this is something that I have Strong Feelings about, so I'm going to tackle it in two parts.

Zemo

I really want to talk about this guy because I think everyone's fallen for his new nonchalant charms, and while yes, it's got its moments but this manipulative sardonic rich white man trope where have we seen it before OH RIGHT TONY.

CACW Zemo was actually one of my favourite MCU villains. He had heart, he had intelligence, he had resolve. The only thing he didn't have was superpowers, but he plenty made up for it. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he was driven to do it anyway, because the Avengers had ripped a void in his life and revenge was the only thing that could fill it. He had nothing left, so he had nothing to lose, and he was ready to go to any length to destroy the happiness that the Avengers had - that they had taken from him. And that felt real to me, yanno, more so than the 20 other villains who wanted to rule the universe. But he was still squarely a villain.

TFATWS Zemo is...just a mess of a caricature, honestly. His goal had been the Avengers because they were idolised beyond reproach - his entire arc was because Sokovia was destroyed but these American larrikins went on with their merry lives. There were some clunky dialogue about supremacy, but none of it really congealed. CACW Zemo would have agreed with the Flag Smashers’ fight against an organisation that was beyond accountability, TFATWS made him a baron who wanted to maintain the status quo, and then tried to tell us this guy is now an anti-hero…and I honestly have no comment about what we should be reading into that.

Bucky

The “I hold no grudge for what you thought you had to do” is top on my list of TFATWS lines that prove the scriptwriter believes Bucky is in the wrong for everything. I cannot find an adequate interpretation of this line that does not paint Bucky as the villain in their relationship, when it’s Zemo who did every. Damn. Hurtful. Thing to Bucky.

Bucky did nothing to Zemo. He did nothing to Zemo’s family. He was not involved in Sokovia. And he did not have agency when he was in Hydra. ZEMO KNOWS THIS BETTER THAN ANYONE BECAUSE HE HYPNOTISED BUCKY.

Zemo framed Bucky. Put his name and face on every damn newspaper in the world. Got him nearly killed by a SWAT team and a very angry T’Challa. He then hypnotised Bucky, made him relive what he was trying to run away from, demonstrated that he was still under his handler’s whim no matter how hard he fought, then set him onto Steve and the rest of the Avengers. He used Bucky to create the rift between Steve and Tony, and broke up the Avengers. Not only that, throughout TFATWS he continually stirs Bucky up, and tries to drive a wedge between Sam and Bucky by mocking his fighting abilities as a love for violence and talking incessantly about the untrustworthiness of super soldiers.

And yet, the script lets Zemo tell Bucky that he holds no grudge WTAF is that. I honestly hope whoever wrote that line gets bullied to shreds only to have the bully tell him “I won’t hold it against you”, because that’s what happened here.

I���m proud of Bucky not shooting him, because he didn’t play into Zemo’s hand, but I ain’t interpreting that as forgiveness.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (18) || atz

You and Wooyoung are sitting in the rigging, staring out to sea.

The Treasure has left Tortuga for a few days now, sailing in the open sea for the town of Nassau. From what Wooyoung has told you, Nassau, Seonghwa’s hometown, used to be a port thriving with pirate activity… until one day, the Royal Navy decided retake the town from the pirates. Pirate ships were burnt to the ground, the crews hung at the gallows and anyone associated with them brought in for questioning.

It is during that purge that Seonghwa’s parents were killed.

Seonghwa has finally left the confines of the galley, escorted to the sickbay to sleep and rest. Yunho is keeping a vigil beside Seonghwa, while you’ve taken over his cooking duties and Yunho’s lookout role. You may not be as well suited to the job as the two of them are, but it’s the most you can do for being to blame for Seonghwa’s condition.

If only you had known what to do.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut.

If only you hadn’t let the herbs be stolen.

You know it’s stupid, but the thoughts won’t stop echoing in your head.

If only you hadn’t gone out to celebrate your name.

You chew your lips.

If only you hadn’t come to this ship.

Guilt tears at you from the inside like the teeth of a piranha. The pain is all too acute, all to real.

“Hey.”

You’re jerked back from your thoughts by Wooyoung, who’s grinning at you. Somehow, the head gunner has pushed past the air of gloom surrounding the ship, managing to keep a broad smile on his face despite the weight on everyone’s shoulders. How he’s doing it, you don’t know, but part of you resents how easily he can seem to forget that Seonghwa is still in the sickbay, struggling to block out the voices of his dead family from his ears while all of you are absolutely powerless to help.

Even now, Seonghwa’s still refusing the sleeping incense, but Yeosang has given given him back the steak plushie, which he hugs to sleep every night. Jongho helps by singing his hyung to sleep. San mixes relaxing teas for him. Captain and Mingi studying the overlay of Nassau, trying to find the most inconspicuous way they can enter the town without garnering the attention of the authorities.

It’s only you and Wooyoung who can do nothing. And the guilt you feel is swallowing you whole.

Wooyoung suddenly leans forward, shackles clanging as he uses his fingers to turn your mouth up in smile. “I’m sure captain and Mingi will think of something. We’ll help Seonghwa-hyung and everything will be fine soon. Don’t be sad.”

Anger rushes forth.

“Don’t be sad?” You snap, smacking his hand away. Wooyoung looks visibly wounded, pain flashing across his face as his hand falls to his side, but you’re too caught up in your fury to notice. “Seonghwa-hyung is in this state and you have the gall to smile and act happy?”

Something in Wooyoung’s normally bright viridescent eyes darkens suddenly as he silently watches you rant.

“I hate how you’re still so happy go lucky! It’s like you don’t understand what it’s like to lose someone even though you’ve had family like Jongho-hyung and Yunho-hyung!” You continue raving, not seeing the way Wooyoung’s fingers clench so tight around the ropes his knuckles turn bloodless. “ I’m the only one who has no family, alright? I’m not like all of you, I don’t know what it’s like, but you’ve had family before, so shouldn’t you try to be more understanding?”

Silence falls between the two of you as you finish. Then you realise that you’ve just literally just thrown everything, your hurt, your pain, your guilt onto Wooyoung, who must be suffering too somewhere deep down inside. To your horror, his head hangs low so that you can’t see his expression, but from the way his shoulders are curled in on themselves, you must have wounded him deeply. Regret and guilt fills you.

You can’t seem to do anything right.

“Wooyoung-hyung, I’m sorry-”

“What else am I supposed to do, then?” Wooyoung breathes, turning to meet your eyes head on. You desperately want to look away, but his gaze is unbreakable as steel. There’s something utterly frigid about them, almost terrifying, like a dragon rearing its head. “Cry? Complain? Feel pity for myself? Curl up in a ball and hide until all the problems disappear?”

That’s exactly what you want to do right now under the weight of his of his intense stare, pinning you down.

“Hyung, I didn’t mean it-”

“You did.” Wooyoung cuts you off fiercely, his green eyes burning. “You meant every word of it and I don’t blame you. But I want you to know that I don’t intend on moping around because that’s not going to help anything. So get those stupid thoughts about it being your fault out of your head because none of them are true and smile because you need to believe things can get better.”

The resolve in his voice is unshakable, and you curl in on yourself to avoid Wooyoung’s stare, shame burning on your cheeks. All this while, you’ve only been thinking about yourself and your guilt, forgetting that you also affect the members of the crew and that moping around hasn’t helped at all.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper quietly under your breath, but Wooyoung hears you anyway and his smile returns once more.

“I forgive you.” He beams at you gently, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Your head rests against his shoulder, seeking comfort. “I understand.”

You wipe the tears from your eyes as you swallow down your emotions. Right. Smile. Be positive. Staying negative isn’t going to help anything.

Then Wooyoung frowns as he looks down onto the main deck. “Yeosang is coming over. I wonder what he needs.”

“Wooyoungie! Is Chin Hae up there with you?” The navigator stops in front of the main mast, hand shielding his eyes from the sun as he looks up. Wooyoung nods. “Yeah! Do you need him?”

“Can you tell him to come down? I have something to discuss with him.”

You frown, a little confused as Wooyoung glances at you in surprise. Then he leans forward to pinch your cheeks into a smile again, mirroring his own. “Go on. Don’t forget to smile.”

You manage a real smile for the first time in days.

“Thanks, Wooyoung-hyung.” You say as you climb over the side of the crow’s nest, making your way down and dropping lightly to the main deck. Yunho would be so proud if he saw you doing that. “What do you need, Yeosang-hyung?”

“San spoke to me earlier about your encounter with a fortune teller.” Yeosang explains to you as the two of you make your way across the main deck. Your eyes widen as you realise what he’s talking about. “Since Hongjoong-hyung is steering and Mingi is sleeping in the main hold, the captain’s quarters are empty and I thought that I could take this time to research on what the fortune teller said with you.”

Your heart leaps into your chest with ecstasy at what this could mean, but then you pause a little.

“Should we be doing this now? With everything that’s going on?”

Yeosang stops in the middle of pushing open the door to the captain’s cabin to look at you seriously. You’ve never realised how big and clear his eyes are, completely genuine and free of any trace of ill will. “It’s not like we can do anything now. What we can do is keep our spirits up and be strong for Seonghwa-hyung until we reach Nassau. And you’ve been looking down lately, so I thought I could try to cheer you up by clearing some of your questions.”

Warmth blooms in you at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Yeosang-hyung.”

The navigator smiles happily at you, almost radiant. “No problem. It’s my honour you’d trust me with such an important piece of information.” He opens the door and ushers you in.

You’ve never been in the captain’s cabin without the captain being present, so the room is unnaturally quiet and still. Yeosang, however, seems to know the room like it’s the back of his own hand, moving towards one of the shelves at the far end of the room while you hover awkwardly at the door.

“Please sit.” He indicates to the bed as he pulls out a scrap of parchment. You recognise it as the one Seonghwa had written your prophecy on the other time when you were discussing your visit to the fortune teller. Yeosang brings the paper over to you.

“So, what part haven’t you figured out?” He asks seriously, as he reaches in his pocket for a small wooden case, producing a pair of thin, gold rimmed eyeglasses and placing them on his nose delicately. You look over the words.

“The sea witch and the jar of clay.” You answer honestly.

Yeosang nods and moves over to his array of books. The walls are covered in them, from texts to maps to travel rutters to books of varying languages. There are even some tied up in stacks and placed neatly on the floor, all of them well kept and not a speck of dust on them.

He pulls out a few books, putting them in his arms as he mumbles to himself, eyes flitting among the shelves. Then he returns to you, setting the books on the table with a huff. “Let me look through these for a moment.”

You study him intently as he flips through the books faster than you can blink, fingers flying along the pages. The title on some of the books read ‘Legends of the Sea’, ‘Mythical Folk’ and such.

“The sea witch is a powerful entity who was once human with a bond to both the land and sea. She holds immense power, drawing upon the sea to cast spells. In return for a high price, she grants both magical and non magical folk alike what they desire.” Yeosang reads aloud, meticulously focusing on every detail. “Only people in great desperation can find the sea witch, as her lair lies hidden in a magical realm of the sea in which mortals cannot find. The entrance is rumoured to be off the coast of several uninhabited islands in the Atlantic, guarded by the sirens and fierce tidal straits rip through the waters, smashing any ship that dares pass through.”

“That’s… good to know.” You swallow uncomfortably. The only one who probably knows exactly who you are, and she’s probably out of reach. You’re unwilling to put the crew in danger because of your own problems.

“Those who have made a deal with the sea witch tend to have a token on which the deal was sealed.” Yeosang continues, glancing at the necklace hanging from your neck. “The price is often exorbitantly high, and is rarely something of material worth. It often is something of immense value to the person making the deal.”

Your memories.

You had given up your memories.

“In popular folk stories, she was responsible for taking the voice of a mermaid who’d fallen in love with a prince of the land in return for her legs. She also gives out pieces of ropes with three knots. Pulling the first knot could yield a gentle, southeasterly wind, while pulling two could generate a strong northerly wind, but the third knot would unleash a hurricane.” Yeosang looks slightly interested. “Hongjoong-hyung has one of these, but he’s used the first knot already.”

“Really?” You gape. This sea witch can’t be mere legend now.

The navigator nods as he picks up another book. “We were being chased by the Royal Navy, but he used the wind to blow the ships away. That’s when hyung really started to believe in myths a little.”

He opens a book called ‘Symbolism Through Ages’. “Jars of clay, jars of clay… Jars of clay refer to humans. In many books such as the Holy Bible, humans were described to be jars of clay, having mortal bodies while holding precious souls of great value in them.”

A jewel resting in a jar of clay.

Yeosang’s eyebrows pinch together as he continues reading. “This is a interesting explanation, but not rather helpful as it’s quite metaphorical. You said that the fortune teller asked you who’d made you?”

“Yeah…” You shiver a little at the words. “Then she told me the sea witch was my mistress.”

Yeosang frowns thoughtfully, and you can literally hear the gears in his mind turning. He picks up another book, flipping through it absentmindedly as he glances through it. “Made… Clay… Vessel… Humans… Sea Witch… Bargain...”

Then he stops.

All at once, his eyes fly wide open, pupils dilating in realization, mouth going slack, face ashen. The expression on his face can only be described in pure, unadulterated shock, and he stops breathing for a second as if air has trapped itself in his lungs.

Your heart skips a beat in excitement.

“Did you find something?” You begin to ask excitedly, but Yeosang barely seems to hear you, staring in horror at the page, then at you.

Unease begins to crawl up your skin, but you force it to the side and ask. “Yeosang-hyung… what is it?”

That seems to snap Yeosang out of his daze and he desperately tries to smooth his face in a neutral expression, but he can’t quite hide the terror in his eyes. “It’s nothing. I just thought of something, but it’s no big deal.”

The way his voice is trembling tells you it is anything but.

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and barely restrained anger. “Yeosang-hyung, what are you hiding from me?”

“It’s nothing.” The navigator insists, slamming the book shut. You get a mere glimpse of the cover. Prome-, but then Yeosang’s hand slides over the title and you can’t see it any longer. “It’s nothing at all, so just let it go, please.”

Usually, you’d let anything he says go, but this is different.

“Then let me see it.” You hold your hand out to take the book, but Yeosang wrenches it from your grasp before you can even hold it, eyes flaring in panic.

“Don’t touch it!” Yeosang shouts furiously, clutching the book to his chest. Rage fills you, what may be an answer to your identity is right there, but Yeosang won’t give it to you. You storm over to him, ready to rip the book from his hands if you need to.

“What are you doing?” You snarl at him, almost animalistic as you reach to tear your only clue from him, but Yeosang shakes his head, arms folding around the book.

“You can’t see it!” He screams at you, tears streaming down his cheeks and you feel red hot anger thrumming in your veins, purring to life like an awakening monster. Icy calm washes over you, in complete contrast to the fury burning in your heart. How dare he cry as if he’s the one losing anything from this?

Yeosang must see the shift in your eyes as your expression settles into one of dark determination, because his knees start knocking uncontrollably and his eyes dilate with pure, undiluted and primal fear.

“Give the book to me, Yeosang.”

In this moment, Yeosang makes a decision.

His fingers fumble with the latch behind him. Before you can realise what he’s doing, he’s opened the pothole, turned away from you and tossed the book into the ocean.

You feel like your last hope has been crushed into shards and scattered to the wind. Broken fury and grief screams within you like two clashing hurricanes, tearing you apart and ripping through you. Your eyes land on Yeosang, who looks stunned by what he’s just done.

You finally manage to find words in your rage to convey to him what exactly you’re feeling now.

“I hate you.” You spit with every bit of loathing you can muster, and with that, you whirl around and dash out of the cabin, the door slamming shut behind you.

Yeosang doesn’t say anything. Instead, he merely slides to the ground on his knees, body curled into a ball, wishing he could beg for your forgiveness.

And his fist pressed against his mouth to stifle the sobs pouring from his chest.

[sincerelystranger]

Author: This is kind of a spoiler for my fic, Linger by the Door (I’ve Always Been Yours). It’s basically Lan Qiren acquiescing and giving his blessing of LZ and WWX’s relationship. 

-----

“Before the Twin Jades of Gusu, there was the Jade Dragon,” Lan Qiren says slowly, looking at the boy – man – who has ruined his life.

Wei Wuxian.

What does Wangji see in him? He wonders. What about this boy could possibly be worth abandoning his sect? His path of cultivation?

Wei Wuxian does not move or speak – he just stares at Lan Qiren, something in his eyes unsettlingly understanding. Waiting for him to continue.

“My brother was hailed as the most prodigious cultivator in 100 years,” he continues, his chest aching. He’s never spoken this to anyone – would never have imagined telling it to Wei Wuxian of all people. “He was talented and handsome and kind… and I was proud to be his brother.”

Wei Wuxian nods then, just a slight tilt of his head, as if he understands. Could he understand? This evil boy with no respect for traditions or values. Could he understand the type of pride that came from family? What could this demon know of loving someone so much that their accomplishments felt like yours?

Lan Qiren remembers then, the soft way Jiang Fengmian had spoken about Wei Wuxian. The pride and fondness that thrummed beneath his words. He remembers how Wei Wuxian fought for his sister’s honor, how he suffered happily in her stead.

“It was difficult – is difficult – for me to understand how someone like my brother could he felled by a single woman, but he was.” He has to stop then, the ache in his chest creeping up into his throat. It’s strange how the pain never ebbs. How many times did he watch his brother die, he wonders.

Death in seclusion.

Lan Qiren thinks a part of him also died when his brother chose to hide himself away from the world. His brother, who had shone brighter than anyone, living in shame... because of a woman. Because of love. Qiren couldn’t understand it then -- can only barely understand it now.

And then, dying by slow degrees – heart broken by the death of that woman. Wasting away day by day, unable to take his own life, but also unable to face a world without her.

And finally, dying for his sect.

Strong and courageous till the very end. 

(In secret, Lan Qiren wonders whether his brother meant to survive the Wens at all. Did he ever plan on making it out alive?)

“Wangji is very much like my brother,” he says, taking a sip of his tea to loosen the ache in his throat. “From the beginning, he was impossibly talented… and kind. Xichen, of course, was talented and kind as well… but from the beginning, Xichen was more like me. I could understand Xichen much better than Wangji.”

Lan Qiren remembers the quiet child all those years ago. So steadfast and resolved – so much like his brother. Xichen had always been flexible – understanding of Qiren’s strictness and accepting of his role within the sect. 

Wangji had not understood… but he had listened because he loved his uncle. Qiren had always known that – had always known that Wangji’s obedience did not come from understanding but from love – and it had scared him.

Love.

Love ruined you. Qiren had seen it firsthand. Had experienced it himself. He had loved his brother and watching his brother destroy himself had been torture.

“I was strict with Wangji – much stricter than I needed to be. You have to understand…” he feels embarrassed suddenly, admitting all this to Wei Wuxian – the bane of his existence, “… I watched my brother suffer because of… emotion… and I wanted to do everything in my power so that Wangji would not suffer the same fate.”

Wei Wuxian still does not speak. He just keeps watching Lan Qiren, his eyes still unnervingly kind. He loves Wangji as well, Lan Qiren realizes. Wei Wuxian walked willingly into a place that he knows doesn’t want him because he loves Wangji.

Lan Qiren wishes he didn’t know that. He wishes Wei Wuxian was less brave. It would be easier to hate him. Because Lan Qiren wishes, more than anything, that he could hate Wei Wuxian.

(But he finds it’s difficult to hate someone who loves Wangji so selflessly)

“I realize now that Wangji was suffering,” he admits, shame creeping up his spine, “the 16 years you were gone… he was suffering, and I chose to ignore it. He was dying by slow degrees and I ignored it because – because I thought it was better that he suffer than him have any association with you.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t flinch at Lan Qiren’s words. Doesn’t look away, doesn’t make a sound. It’s infuriating. All those instances that Lan Qiren asked silence of him and he chooses now of all times to listen. Maybe he finds some sort of perverse pleasure in watching Lan Qiren rip himself open this way.

“What I mean to say,” and embarrassment is hot in his stomach at what he’s about to admit, “is that everything I’ve done up until now is so that I would not lose Wangji.”

Wei Wuxian nods then, as if he understands. As if he knew all along.

How infuriating.

“But the truth is that I lost him 16 years ago,” he sighs, looking away from Wei Wuxian, unable to endure the kindness of his gaze. “I was lying to myself -- that Wangji was recovering from your loss, that Wangji had been momentarily led astray by your wicked ways – but that wasn’t it at all, was it?”

Lan Qiren can be honest with himself now. He can remember the deadness of Wangji’s eyes, the listlessness of his actions. How he went day by day as if he was just passing time. Desiring death but brave enough to endure life.

It’s a stark difference to how Wangji is now. It’s as if Wei Wuxian brought Wangji along as he came back to life.

“Wangji has only come back to us recently,” he says slowly, “and I am loathe to lose him again.”

That’s the truth, at the end of the day. As much as Lan Qiren had tried to teach emotion out of his nephews, he had never known how to do it himself. He never learned how to stop hurting, how to stop loving. How foolish had he been to expect that from his nephews.

“If keeping Wangji means acknowledging you – acknowledging that you will be his cultivation partner… then I will do that.”

It’s his loss again, he thinks sardonically. Cangse Sanren had always bested him when they were students and even in death, here she was besting him again. How irritating.

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian says finally, “Thank you.”

It’s irritating – Lan Qiren doesn’t want to be thanked. This is the most painful decision of his life. It goes against all he’s ever taught – putting emotion in front of sense. Emotion in front of tradition, in front of rules, in front of right. His ancestors are probably rolling in their graves.

But it’s unbearable, the thought of losing Lan Wangji. The thought of him roaming the world, sect-less, with only this demonic cultivator next to him.

“You should know,” Wei Wuxian continues, “If I could make Lan Zhan love anyone else – I would.”

Lan Qiren wants to tell Wei Wuxian to be silent. He doesn’t want to hear goodness – kindness – come out of his mouth. Lan Qiren wants to hate him, doesn’t Wei Wuxian understand that?

“I know I’m not deserving,” Wei Wuxian says, a small, self-deprecating smile on his lips, “but Lan Zhan has loved me for 16 lonely years – he loves me now – and I will not leave him to love alone any longer.”

Silence, Lan Qiren thinks desperately, his chest heavy. He remembers now, the loneliness that Wangji wore like a shroud. How he had seemed miles away at all times. His nephew had been suffering – dying in front of his eyes – and Lan Qiren had ignored him.

He had been waiting for his obedient nephew to come back, he realized. He had done nothing but wait.

“I cannot promise that I will be able to follow all 3,000 rules – and I’m sure I’ll do many things that you find distasteful, because, at the end of the day, I cannot change who I am,” Wei Wuxian says, “but I love Lan Zhan – no matter what you think of me, please be assured of that. I love him more than my own life and I will love him for as long as he will have me and beyond that.”

The way Wei Wuxian says that does not sit well with Lan Qiren. “Does that mean that you expect that there will be a day that my nephew will no longer have you?” he asks, curious.

Wei Wuxian huffs a small laugh at that, scratching his nose in embarrassment. “I can only hope,” he says softly. He smiles at Lan Qiren, his eyes warm, and Lan Qiren finds that maybe he can understand, at least a little, what Wangji sees in this demon.

“I know you may not believe this, but I want the same things for Lan Zhan as you do,” Wei Wuxian says, “I want him to be happy – I wish that he would walk an easier path.”

“It seems you are not entirely without sense,” Lan Qiren says, “You recognize that him choosing you has opened him to the world’s derision.”

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian nods.

“But you still intend to become his cultivation partner?”

“I’ve never been able to deny Lan Zhan anything,” Wei Wuxian replies easily, “The only thing I can do now is make sure that he does not face the world alone.”

Foolish boy, Lan Qiren thinks. Foolish, brave boy.

“Wangji has never been one to change his mind,” Lan Qiren admits quietly, “Now that he’s chosen to be by your side, I’m quite sure there will never come a day that he does not choose you.”

“I will not shame him,” Wei Wuxian says resolutely, his gaze firm and unyielding. “Whatever Lan Zhan chooses, now and for the rest of his life, I will honor it.”

In that moment, Lan Qiren is reminded that the man in front of him is the man who declared war on the world and might as well have won.

Perhaps… perhaps, Wangji can be entrusted to him.

“Treat Wangji with the utmost respect, you evil boy,” Lan Qiren says, “I will never forgive you if you treat Wangji with any less… love than he deserves.”

Wei Wuxian nods seriously, and moves to get up, sensing that their conversation is over.

He bows when he stands.

“Thank you,” he says, “Thank you for taking good care of Lan Zhan – I humbly ask that you continue that care. I will also be in your care from now on.”

What a evil boy, Lan Qiren thinks furiously, blinking the sudden wetness from his eyes. An evil boy, always full of surprises.

“Leave!” he scowls, his throat aching.

Thank you for taking good care of Lan Zhan.

He’s done his best, hasn’t he?

Later he will visit Xichen. Tell him the news.

And later… much later, he will visit his brother.

He will tell his brother that Wangji is still very much like him, except that he’s braver -- braver than his brother or himself could ever imagine being. 

Also, Cloud Recesses will be a much louder place from now on. 

But for now, he will finish his tea, repeat Wei Wuxian’s words over and over again in his head, and hope that he can swallow down the ache in his throat.

Thank you for taking good care of Lan Zhan.

[maybe-theres-hope]

Of Will and Wildflowers, Part 1

Tarlos | period drama/grudging acquaintances to lovers | Part 1/3 

Read on ao3

Thank you to @oquinn53 and @resiotcage for cheerleading and reading ahead of time. You both give me the motivation to keep going. 

Title by @oquinn53 :)

By law, TK Strand cannot inherit his father’s railroad empire until he marries. He has absolutely no intention of finding a husband on their trip down to Texas, but he finds himself blindsided by Mr. Carlos Reyes, only son of Doña Marialena Reyes. The problem is that Mr. Reyes resents the Strands coming to buy up parcels of his family’s cattle estate to build a rail line on. TK is perfectly happy to leave him to stew in his anger, as he has no use to see the man after the end of the week. However, TK will find that the heart wants what it wants, and there’s rarely anything one can do about it. 

Set in 1885

Below is an excerpt, full part 1 from the beginning is under the cut!

TK was astonished at his father’s ability to forgive anyone almost anything, but this was almost too far. Mr. Reyes had barely said a word at dinner, and that was only after he’d been forcibly pulled into conversation by Christina. Even then he’d talked of nothing but the weather and cattle movements, and he’d offered a mild chuckle at Elena’s story of her first time riding a horse. He’d spent the rest of the evening simultaneously staring at and avoiding TK.

TK knew this because he’d been doing the same, though he would sooner saw off his own hand than admit to it.

“He insulted us and called us names. He besmirched our honor. He wears brocade to ride in! What on earth makes him a good man?” TK huffed out a breath. He turned to see his father just smiling at him.

“He’s a good judge of a room, anyway. He seldom looked away from you,” Owen ribbed. TK could now see where this was heading. His own father was just as bad as the Doña trying to play matchmaker.

“Parents are far too successful in matching their children up economically, but when it comes to romance, parents are no better off than if they hadn’t known another eligible soul in the world,” TK recited.

“Oh, come now son, I’m not that insensitive! He’s handsome isn’t he?” his father returned, finally dropping the ruse and showing his true colors.

“Handsomeness does not a happy home make,” TK recited again.

“You’ve been reading too many Dame Juliette columns.”

“And you’ve been trying to plot my marriage since we were on the train, and the minute you saw a handsome son on this estate you’ve sealed my fate, have you?” TK groused.

At this, Owen softened his face. “I am sorry for being a bit pushy, but Mr. Reyes is the first man you’ve so much as made eye contact with of late. Is it so odd to wonder what about him brought you out of your self-imposed melancholy?”

“Who said I was out of my melancholy?”

“Your eyes whenever they met his.” Owen’s face was serious, no longer teasing.

“He makes me angry, is all. Anger is an emotion.”

“Yes. Yes it is.” And with that, Owen turned to climb into his own bed, the conversation abruptly halted and TK left wondering what his father thought he’d concluded from their exchange.

Lying on his own mattress across the hall, TK wondered at emotion. Sure, anger was an emotion. A useful one. But so was love, and he was determined to hold out for it.

Part 1

“Ms. Mercer’s proposal looks promising,” Owen says, mostly to himself but loud enough to include TK in the conversation, should he wish to participate. “And Mr. and Mr. Felton-Lowman have quite a sprawl, though it does look to contain more elevation than I was hoping. I thought all of Texas was supposed to be flat?” Owen muses as he tosses the papers back onto his makeshift desk.

TK is only half listening, choosing instead to stare morosely out the window at the passing countryside of the American South, eyes at intervals tracking livestock in the fields and lingering drips from this morning’s light storm rolling down the glass window of the lavish Pullman they’ve commandeered as their vessel for this journey. His father, bless his soul, had tried to get TK to care more about the business as of late, and truth be told, TK was very interested in the workings of his father’s company and he did take great pride in being able to inherit it someday and make his father proud. It was just that recently, he’d had his heart thoroughly crushed by an absolute rake of a man and he’d rather wallow in self pity than think about geological surveys and boundaries for livestock movements.

TK heard his father sigh, a sure sign that a lecture was coming soon. TK took a breath and held it.

“I wish you’d forget about that awful boy, Tyler. You wouldn’t have wanted a life with him anyway. His family was barely polite at best, and scandalous at their worst. Honestly, you got out on the good side of things.” TK wanted to say that he didn’t care about things like status and scandal, he cared about love and commitment.

Turns out all Alexander had been able to commit to was his harem of stable boys and footmen that TK had known nothing about until it was too late.

TK blew out his breath. He knew his father meant well. Owen Strand was not overbearing as some other fathers were, especially with an only child upon whom everything rested. He wished his son to be happy and settled, is all. TK knew this, and still he couldn’t help his sullen reply.

“Yes, father, I shall just forget. Forget every sweet nothing and every second and third dance. Forget every promise and every earnest declaration. Forget that it was all a lie. Yes, my mind shall be rid of Alexander’s presence by sundown. Then we shall celebrate. How simple.” He knew he was being unreasonable, but he wanted to be angry for a while. He’d only found Alexander with Mrs. Howell’s second footman three days earlier. It still stung.

As the train rattled on, closer to a place that TK was of a mind to understand was so far from proper civilization as to be considered exotic, he felt his father’s disappointment cling to him. That hurt worse than what he’d seen Alexander and the footman doing--which was something for which he was sure a name had not been invented yet.

“I’m sorry, father. It’s just that you’ve set this deadline for me with no explanation as to why, and I don’t want to let you down but I’m afraid I’ll never find the right man for me. I had thought it would be Mr. Thompson, but I was mistaken. Sorely mistaken.”

At this, TK looked up to catch his father’s soft look of commiseration. “I know you’re feeling overwhelmed, but you are getting on in age. Most boys are married off by three and twenty, and you’ve gone nearly four years past that. I’m not going to be around forever, you know. You need to secure a match that makes you happy, but you’ll need to do it sooner rather than later.”

“Why, father? Why must I rush such a momentous decision? You are in perfect health! I have another five or ten at least!” At this, he caught a very minute shift in his father’s countenance, something like pain, but it was gone in an instant. His father was the most stoic man TK had ever had occasion to meet; if he was in pain at all, no one would ever know. It must have been a trick of the flickering pre-dusk light coming through the windows of the train car. Owen took on a playful tone.

“Five or ten? What respectable young lad would want to marry a man of thirty-five? You’d practically be spinster by then,” he joked fondly.

“You’re a good deal past thirty-five and I’ve still seen twenty year old Miss Brinkman making eyes at you across the dancefloor of an evening. If I’ve inherited your genes I’ve nothing to fear,” TK shot back with a barely there smirk.

“Thank heaven for us all, but you’ve got your mother’s beauty. I couldn’t have asked for better,” Owen said quietly. TK’s mother had been gone these past ten years. A bout with pneumonia that the doctors could not cure had taken her from them. “But you do have my charm, I’ll allow you that. You should put it to use down south. Perhaps a cattle baron might catch your eye?”

“Oh by God, no. I couldn’t imagine whiling away my days on a smelly farm trying to read reports by moonlight and taking my sullen and fatigued husband to bed only for him to fall asleep minutes after his head hits the pillow. No romance in hard labor, that’s for sure.” TK shuddered a bit to think of life on an actual farm, constantly smelling of hay and manure like some streetsweeper back in Manhattan.

“I do believe successful cattle barons can afford more than a few tawdry tallows, Tyler,” Owen quipped with a smirk before turning his attention back to the maps and surveys scattered in front of him. The conversation that, just moments ago, had been fraught with uncertainty and earnestness seemed to flutter into the wind. TK and his father were like that most times: they’d lay things out on the table between them, and if it clearly couldn’t be resolved in a single good-natured quarrel, they both gave themselves time to regroup to resume the discussion at a later date.

For this particular subject, TK was coming to think of that ‘later date’ as a cuff slowly tightening around his wrist, the chain binding him to his destiny getting shorter and shorter.

He looked down at his hands, privileged hands that hadn’t had to do much manual labor in his life, save for the few times his father took him to the yards to show him how things were run. Owen, on the other hand, was an entirely self-made man, who saved and invested his earnings working for Vanderbilt and made enough to purchase his first railcar at just twenty. He contracted it with the Erie and charged passengers thirty-five cents for passage between New York and Boston. From there it only grew, to what was now a very respectable business, looking to lay lines of their own. Perhaps not the largest--that was still Vanderbilt’s claim--but certainly a player on the board.

And it would all be TK’s if he could just hurry up and fall in love already.

_______

The carriage from the station drove them twenty miles through gorgeous hill country. The cattle and horses grazed on rolling plains that swelled gently as they approached the horizon. It was warm, but not unbearable, which TK attributed to the absence of industry steaming and smoking and saturating the very air in one’s lungs as it did in Manhattan. Furthermore, despite the over-abundance of livestock surrounding them, the smell was far more pleasant than he was used to. TK could not help but conclude upon this observation that maybe it was not the horses that stunk, but the people. After all, fresh air was a luxury very few could afford, and they usually had to go thousands of miles to get it, such as he and his father were doing now.

Still, he held to his earlier affirmation that he could not see himself making a life in a place such as this. Despite the fact that he’d concluded they apparently smelled horrid, TK loved being around people. He supposed that was to be attributed to being an only child, and having no siblings underfoot to raise ruckus and otherwise pierce the silence that hung heavy over their home of late. Even though he’d not experienced that kind of life, he’d always hoped to make a large family of his own, his husband and he adopting ten or more children to raise and fawn over. TK had never considered for a moment that he wouldn’t be a father, regardless of his proclivity for finding only men attractive in any way. Some of that persuasion chose to remain as partners only, bequeathing their fortunes, such as they were, to their universities or other charitable pursuits. But TK had always wanted a house full of mouths to feed and hearts to warm.

He dreamed about the day when he could look over at his husband, gray-haired and body-bent, and smile at what they’d created.

Except it did not seem as though he would be acquiring a husband any time soon, and that thought vexed him more than he let on to his father. Yes, he agreed that he was getting on in years as far as marriageable age for young bachelors was concerned, but his one universal truth was that he would not settle for someone who was not the love of his life. That conviction, though others called it foolish, was the great constant that ran through every interaction TK had with any handsome man he happened upon.

He was determined to uphold that promise to himself, no matter how many years passed. If the right one came along, he’d know it. No matter for the moment, anyway, as he was doubly sure he’d not meet the love of his life in the middle of cattle country.

As the carriage rounded another gentle swell, a rather large bright structure came into view. TK put his hand up to shield his eyes for a moment, as it seemed the very sun shone out of the building. As they drew closer to the drive—lined with giant oak trees on each side like twenty such sentries—it became apparent that the house was not radiating light, but reflecting it. Every upright surface was covered with glittering textured limestone, something TK had seen here and there on their travels through the southern states. Also something they had encountered before was a grievously oversized stoop—which these people called porches—that spanned the entire width of the house, and it was evident that it wrapped around to the sides as well. It was dotted here and there with rocking chairs and benches, each with a wool blanket or cushion thrown haphazardly onto the seat to aid the sitter’s comfort on the otherwise hard wood surface.

They reached the house after a long drive up, and the carriage deposited them at the bottom of the steps up to the grand estate. TK had seen mansions in Manhattan and beyond, but this house was like a full government building. It was massive. He wondered how many people lived here.

As their driver helped them from the carriage and began to let down their luggage, a shriek of delight could be heard just inside the door. TK jumped for a moment, not expecting such a sound in such a peaceful place, before he was bombarded with the view of three bright young ladies in finely detailed seersucker and bustled skirts.  

“Oh, you’ve arrived at last!” the one who looked to be the eldest exclaimed. She was tall, at least half a foot taller than the other two, with ink black hair tied up in neat chignon. Her sleeves accented delicate wrists and her waist was nipped down modestly. She smiled like TK and his father arriving was akin to a grand parade, when really they resembled world-weary travelers who could barely un-stoop their backs from so long inside the carriage. The other two young ladies—girls really—giggled behind their hands. They bore a strong resemblance to the elder; certainly they were all sisters.

Ever the gentleman, TK removed his hat to gesture to the ladies, who gave curtsies in answer. Owen did the same, and received curtsies that went just a bit deeper. “Good afternoon, ladies,” Owen called with a smile. “I was told I could meet directly with Doña Marialena upon our arrival.” He quirked his eyebrow up in question, even though it was perfectly plain that none of these girls was old enough to be the proprietor of this estate, unless they had been sorely deceived. TK thought he might admire someone capable of extending that sort of ruse for as long as they’d been corresponding with the Doña. But alas, a moment later, a much older woman who resembled quite strikingly all three ladies gathered on the porch emerged from the wide open front door.

The Doña was an intimidating woman on her own, but the height afforded her by their current positions made it seem even more so. TK tucked his hat into his elbow and bowed low, following his father’s action. The older woman bent her knees a bit, and TK noticed she did not descend the steps to meet them, but instead kept her position above, behind her daughters.

“Welcome to La Hacienda Reyes, gentlemen,” she intoned in a very slightly accented, gravelly voice. It should have sounded harsh, but it just sounded well-used, as though she’d employed it many times to shout at her daughters for their impropriety at scurrying out to meet guests on the lawn without their bonnets, as she looked apt to do right this very second. TK did not mind their state of dress so much, as rules were getting a little more lax for the younger set these days, especially in the city. Though, now that he thought about it, these country folk might be a mite more traditional, but he let the thought fade into obscurity as the Doña smiled softly down at him a moment later, as if sharing a secret.

He and Owen approached the steps as the Doña descended to meet them. Owen made their introductions as TK took her hand in his, giving a small bow as was customary. He let his father lead the conversation as he made his way over to the daughters assembled on the lawn. He kissed each of their hands in turn, learning that their names were Christina, Elena, and Raquel, from eldest to youngest. He was also informed that Christina was not the eldest in the household; her sister Rosa was ten years her senior and married, and she and her wife were summering on the East Coast.

As Christina regaled TK with how wonderful and filled with revelry their visit was to be, a lone figure appeared at the edge of his vision, galloping up quite swiftly on horseback. The animal was beautiful, sleek and black and moving with its rider as though they were one. As they drew closer, Christina also lit on to the approaching figure.

“Oh, there’s my brother. Mamà will have his head for not meeting you directly, as the man of the house should. Even though he won’t inherit, she still insists he accompany her when seeing to the business of the estate, especially when Rosa is away.”

“I’m sure he had urgent business to attend,” TK offered, however he did not know what kind of business a man in fine brocade—as he could now see the golden threads shining in the Texas sun—would have out in the fields. “We did arrive earlier than expected, I believe. Our apologies.”

“Oh, no. He wished to stay away. I’m of right mind to assume he thought we’d already be inside by now and that’s why he’s made his appearance, and he’ll be sorely thwarted to see us still about.” She fought to hide a smirk, and TK was intrigued. However, he didn’t have time to contemplate on the apparent lack of manners of the man of the house before the man in question was upon them.

He was invariably handsome, that much was clear on his approach. He had tanned skin that shone in the rays of the afternoon sun, and curls atop his beautiful head that caught that same light and transformed into blacks and browns and golds as he moved. He was fit and tall, as TK could tell even from his seat on the horse, and he commanded an air about him that sang with regality. As he disembarked from the saddle, TK was struck dumb at the fluidity of his movements. It was as if he was still galloping along with the horse, moving slowly and rapidly at the same time, body deliberately placing itself where it needed to be rather than flinging his limbs about as some proud men were wont to do when they felt the urge to assert their authority.

As he turned to face the gathered group and at last revealed his face from a close angle, TK was struck dumb. This man was gorgeous. Exquisite. A dream made flesh. TK could all of a sudden imagine what this man looked like when he smiled, when he was upset, when he was elated, when he cried. He could picture a thousand candlelit dinners at the Fifth Avenue Hotel across from this man, surreptitiously dragging their toes against one another under the table, faces and hearts alight with the impropriety of doing such a thing in public, but being too enamored of each other to care.

He could picture all of this so clearly and crisply that he could almost smell the gardenia adorning the little vase upon the table. That was, until the man opened his mouth.

“Gentlemen,” he spit, as though the word were a curse upon their persons. He turned to the Doña and intoned in a volume that was surely meant to be overheard but made as if to seem secretive, “Mother, I thought you said only one was coming. We must entertain two greedy industrialist blackguards for the whole of the week when we’ve not even fully migrated the herd?”

At this, Doña Marialena did not even flinch. She simply leaned in closer to her son and spit out a quick succession of words no doubt meant to silence his gaucherie, but which only served to wind his already pinched countenance into a tighter knot. When their short exchange had ceased, he looked mildly chastised but still as though he would rather be anywhere than here, meeting TK and his father on the front lawn. However, after receiving that nearly silent dressing down from his mother in front of their guests, he screwed his face into a more acceptable visage, and approached Owen, who was holding out his hand.

Doña Marialena made their introductions, “Carlos, this is Owen Strand and his son, TK. Mr. Strand, this is my son Carlos. Please excuse his horrendous manners.”

Carlos took Owen’s hand. “Welcome to our Hacienda, sirs. You are from New York, is that correct?”

“We are. Nearly a fortnight’s journey to get here, but it was beautiful country to pass through,” Owen answered in a friendly tone, unfettered by the exchange of impropriety that had just taken place and determined to move into more friendly territory.

“Ah, well. Let us hope your trip was not in vain,” Carlos answered with a barely there sneer. He turned to TK and offered his hand as Owen and the women turned to shuffle inside the house.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Reyes. I hope we can find some mutual agreement that is beneficial to all in this endeavor,” TK said solemnly while shaking the man’s hand. He’d abruptly become determined to dispense with all amorous thoughts of this abhorrent man. He and his father were here to do business, attend a party or two, and leave with contract in hand, and nothing more.

“There is nothing beneficial to my family about breaking off pieces of our home to sell to ardent capitalists,” Carlos hissed in a volume meant only for TK. “My grandfather’s blood is boiling in his grave as we speak.”

“Well then I suppose it is advantageous for us that you are not the one making decisions about the estate. Your mother seems quite keen to receive the compensation of ‘ardent capitalists’, as you say. Perhaps there are some issues with the household which require assistance which you, as third born, were not made privy to, sir.” TK could not help himself, and shot back the jab without thinking it through. It was ill-bred talk of money in the open, and much more so to bring it up in a first meeting, but Mr. Reyes was the one who’d alluded to finances first, so TK felt little remorse upon seeing the other man’s face flash with indignation.

Mr. Reyes looked as though he wished to lob one last verbal volley at TK, but seemed to think better of it which was a surprise given his utter lack of tact until that moment. He turned away from TK with a last look of barely tempered rage in his brown eyes and made his way up the steps and into the house.

TK followed, determined not to ponder on why that look had given him gooseflesh in a way that did not suggest fear for one’s life, but rather intrigue at what other thinly veiled emotions his own words could make those eyes flash with.

_______

Dinner was a modestly lavish affair. The table was adorned with yellow roses, to symbolize friendship and cooperation, which TK thought was a nice touch from the staff yet ultimately ineffective.

Well, possibly not entirely ineffective, as his father was currently wooing and entertaining the four women at the table with his usual easy charm, and they all seemed to be devouring his anecdotes and quips with good spirts.

It was Mr. Reyes that seemed out of sorts with the rest of the party. Even TK himself was beginning to forget their fraught exchange on the lawn and give in to the revelry of the evening. Truth be told he was glad to be at table with someone other than his father, who tended to give him pitiful looks and well-meaning advice about his recently broken heart. TK also had to admit that along with the laughing women, even Carlos himself was a nice change. His presence gave TK something to focus on other than thinking of his failed chance at happiness.

As it was, TK had already forgotten that he’d vowed he would not focus on Mr. Reyes at all.

“Your father tells me you are six-and-twenty and still a bachelor? How ever have you managed that?” The Doña asked across the table. Given his current preoccupation, TK didn’t even take the slightest bit of offense from the statement. It was helped along by the kind look in her eyes.

He gave a bashful chuckle. “Hard work and perseverance, ma’am,” he joked, and the table laughed along with him, save for one. “I’ve simply not encountered the right match, I’m afraid.”

“If he was married to the work, I’d be less anxious, but alas…” Owen trailed off with a good natured smile. Even with all his father’s nagging, TK knew in his heart that his father wanted his son to be happy and unhurried in choosing a husband.

“I’m holding out for my perfect compliment. Is that so naive?”

“Maybe not for a man in such good standing as you. I’m sure you have suitors left and right vying for your attention, Mr. Strand,” Elena said from across the table.

“I’m afraid at the moment I am quite unadorned with neither suitors nor passing interest,” he answered her.

“I, too, am similarly afflicted,” Elena mourned with a sigh. TK thought she couldn’t have been more than seven-and-ten, quite young to be so concerned. Then again he thought perhaps the country was different than the city. The Doña was mature to be sure, but she looked much younger than he’d thought a woman with a child of more than thirty years—as had been hinted about the absent Rosa—would look. She must have been wed around Elena’s age after all.

“Oh hush, sister. Your situation is not nearly as dire as mine,” Christina said. She placed the back of her hand to her forehead in an affected swoon. “Whenever shall I leave the nest?”

“When someone who possesses such a lack of wits that it precludes them from knowing better comes to sweep you off your feet,” said Raquel. Her sister gave her a scathing look before smirking and presumably kicking her lightly under the table. The younger sister just giggled and went back to her meal.

As TK watched the family interact, lightly teasing each other good-naturedly but never outright insulting each other, he could sense the love and connection among them. Oh, how he longed for a large family such as this someday. Surrounded by his children and their love for each other that ran so deep as to assure each and every one of them that no matter what was said in jest, they were always seeded first in the minds of the rest.

Even with all the lighthearted conversation going on at table, the sole Reyes son was still silent. TK thought it odd that such a stoic, contemptible man could be born into a family of such vibrant women; he was surrounded by their vivacity every day and still he was unmoved to even smile into his potatoes at their revelry. The rest of them also seemed to sense that Mr. Reyes did not wish to partake in the lively conversation, as none of them moved to include him. The Doña glanced to her son every now and then, and TK couldn’t have said her expression looked reproachful (as he would have agreeably afforded her) but it did not look content either.

Perhaps this was not usual behavior for Mr. Reyes. If that was so, then it really was the Strands’ arrival that had put him out of sorts and TK had no recourse to remedy that at present. He and his father were here for business that must be conducted, and Mr. Reyes would just have to live with that.

The Doña had apparently noticed TK going quiet among the ruckus and subsequently had noticed his earlier gaze flickering around the family accompanied by a soft smile. It seemed as though she’d misinterpreted his attentions, however.

“Perhaps the perfect compliment is sooner encountered than you think.” She gave a very slight incline of her head, seemingly meant to indicate Christina, who was sitting to her right and had proceeded to blush so profusely TK was momentarily concerned for her health. He endeavored to be diplomatic but firm against the Doña’s clear initiative, which was impossible for anyone at the table to miss.

“Ah, your family is lovely, Doña, but I fear your son and I would need to converse at length before we could find views on which we do not differ at the moment.” It was part lighthearted joke, part barely concealed jab at Carlos, and part signal of his preferences, so as not to invite any more ideas about betrothing him to one of the daughters.

Alas, he did not miss the Doña’s sharp eye turn to her son before landing back on himself in quick succession. Given their greeting, the Doña should not rightly expect there to be any amorous feeling available between them. Her face relaxed after a moment, and she returned her gaze to the rest of the table. TK did not feel cowed, per se, but the weight of her scrutiny could still be felt upon his cheeks. He was immediately given to wonder what could be contained behind those steady brown eyes, so like her son’s.

As the conversation resumed—Christina was finally ribbing her brother for his lack of mirth this evening—yet again TK found himself studying Carlos Reyes, handsome specimen that he was. But the cut of a man’s jaw and the shine of his eyes did not a welcome companion make, in TK’s view. Sure, he’d lost himself for a moment in the man’s fluidity of movement, the low timbre of his voice, the fire in his expression. But the measure of a man is in his actions, not his appearance. A man can appear any way he wants to; it is his behavior that epitomizes his character. Carlos Reyes had shown himself to be headstrong, closed-off, and prejudiced. TK had no use for such a personality. Carlos could while and wallow away his days alone for all TK cared. He would leave here with no attachments and that would not be a hardship.

Just at that moment, the man in question met his eyes. They stared for a moment, caught in some trap of unconscious strain, seemingly bound to the attempt to find the measure of each other in a single look. When TK looked away first, he felt as if he’d lost some contest.

When he chanced a glance toward the man again, he found his gaze hadn’t wavered but was now more open than it had been since they’d met, which admittedly was not to say much.

Later that night, when Christina had shown them to their guest rooms, Owen made an observation as they dressed for bed.

“The girls are quite well-bred,” he stated, apropos of nothing. The caliber of the family had no bearing on the land, therefore it was of little interest to them in coming into this negotiation. At least, that is what TK believed. His father, it was apparent, thought differently. “And Doña Marialena is a fine head of the household. She has taught her children well.”

At this, TK scoffed.

“And her son is quite adept, don’t you agree?” Owen continued as he hung his dinner jacket away. “A good man who knows the value of family and home.”

TK could not let this statement slide. “A good man? He’s an absolute cad!”

“Oh? He was perfectly cordial during dinner. There was that snafu when we arrived, but that was cleared up quickly. I say, he’s a fine man.” TK was astonished at his father’s ability to forgive anyone almost anything, but this was almost too far. Mr. Reyes had barely said a word at dinner, and that was only after he’d been forcibly pulled into conversation by Christina. Even then he’d talked of nothing but the weather and cattle movements, and he’d offered a mild chuckle at Elena’s story of her first time riding a horse. He’d spent the rest of the evening simultaneously staring at and avoiding TK.

TK knew this because he’d been doing the same, though he would sooner saw off his own hand than admit to it.

“He insulted us and called us names. He besmirched our honor. He wears brocade to ride in! What on earth makes him a good man?” TK huffed out a breath. He turned to see his father just smiling at him.

“He’s a good judge of a room, anyway. He seldom looked away from you,” Owen ribbed. TK could now see where this was heading. His own father was just as bad as the Doña trying to play matchmaker.

“Parents are far too successful in matching their children up economically, but when it comes to romance, parents are no better off than if they hadn’t known another eligible soul in the world,” TK recited.

“Oh, come now son, I’m not that insensitive! He’s handsome isn’t he?” his father returned, finally dropping the ruse and showing his true colors.

“Handsomeness does not a happy home make,” TK recited again.

“You’ve been reading too many Dame Juliette columns.”

“And you’ve been trying to plot my marriage since we were on the train, and the minute you saw a handsome son on this estate you’ve sealed my fate, have you?” TK groused.

At this, Owen softened his face. “I am sorry for being a bit pushy, but Mr. Reyes is the first man you’ve so much as made eye contact with of late. Is it so odd to wonder what about him brought you out of your self-imposed melancholy?”

“Who said I was out of my melancholy?”

“Your eyes whenever they met his.” Owen’s face was serious, no longer teasing.

“He makes me angry, is all. Anger is an emotion.”

“Yes. Yes it is.” And with that, Owen turned to climb into his own bed, the conversation abruptly halted and TK left wondering what his father thought he’d concluded from their exchange.

Lying on his own mattress across the hall, TK wondered at emotion. Sure, anger was an emotion. A useful one. But so was love, and he was determined to hold out for it.

_______

The morning after their first night in La Hacienda Reyes, TK woke with renewed energy to be devoted to forgetting Carlos Reyes even existed.

This endeavor proved extremely difficult when upon descending the stairs to the foyer, the man in question was seemingly awaiting him, pacing across the marble floor with agitated clicks of his boots. The sight brought TK up short, and he consequently forgot that his father was just behind him, causing Owen to collide into his back and sending TK tripping down the last two steps—

Straight into Mr. Reyes’ arms. They were pressed together so tightly for a moment that TK swore he could feel the other man’s exhales as they left his nostrils, softly caressing TK’s cheek as they went. One of his hands was gripped tightly on TK’s shoulder while the other had instantly wound its way around his waist to steady him.

It took TK an inordinate amount of time to catch his breath, all the while feeling that very firm body against his. As his senses returned, he felt himself blaze with the most furious blush at the proximity, and hurried to right himself. He nearly butted his head into the other man’s nose in the process, but proceeded to stand upright without further incident. He set about straightening his waistcoat before looking up and catching Mr. Reyes’ eye almost by mistake.

The other man seemed just as red in the face as he. They held each other’s gaze for a split second longer before TK was violently reminded that the incident had not happened in private, but that the whole of the ghastly encounter was overseen by his own father.

Owen asked, much too late in TK’s opinion, “Are you alright son? I apologize for being so clumsy there,” he added in address to Mr. Reyes.

The man of the house was the first of the pair at the bottom of the stairs to regain use of his tongue. “It’s quite alright, sir. No harm done.”

“That’s true, as you were here to prevent it. Lucky, that.”

TK thought to himself that he would like to disappear from this mortal plane rather than be party to his father’s smug innuendos, especially after their conversation last night and TK’s renewed vows of thoroughly avoiding the man of this house.

Mr Reyes, however, seemed unattuned to Mr. Strand’s jabs, and simply addressed them both again cordially.

“Good morning to you both, I hope you slept well.” They replied that they had, as was proper, despite TK’s own thoughts. He wasn’t about to share that . “I’ve actually come to offer you a tour of the grounds at my mother’s behest, and also in apology for my unmitigated rudeness upon your arrival.”

TK was inclined to believe the apology was also at the Doña’s behest, if not absolutely forced. She seemed a formidable enough woman to demand decorum from her adult son.

“I understand your company is pursuing the land in the northwest quadrant of the estate. It would be my pleasure to take you there so that you can survey at your leisure.”

“So early?” Owen asked. They had not yet broke fast.

“Yes sir, in order to avoid the humidity of midday, I thought we’d ride out closer to dawn. Our cook has packed some provisions in lieu of the breakfast meal.” At this, he gestured to a medium sized basket atop a side table by the door, apparently from which the scent of bacon—as TK had just caught on the air—was emanating.

To be quite honest with himself—which he would admit much, much later was not very honest at all—TK was not at all looking forward to spending the morning with Mr. Reyes and his ridiculously dashing seat on a horse. His father being there would temper his mood, but he’d rather spend the day walking about on his own, soaking in the fresh air and solitude of the country. Or even alongside his father and the Doña, negotiating the sale of her land, as Owen had expressed his desire that TK begin immersing himself in the business and he saw no better time than now, in avoidance of any extra time spent in Mr. Reyes’ presence.

The man made him hot around the collar and jittery, and the real problem was that TK was even more angry that neither of those emotions were particularly loathsome at the moment and he could not explain to himself why.

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Mr. Reyes. Unfortunately, I really must sit down with your mother and ask her about some specifics regarding the provenances, so I must decline your kind offer.” At this, he turned to TK, who was already giving him wide eyes of panic before he even opened his mouth. “TK, would you be so kind as to accompany Mr. Reyes around the property? You know the general gist of what we are looking for, and you can report back to me with what you find. I’d really appreciate your help on this, TK.”

The man was practically grinning like a fool. TK thought he might keel over right there on the marble tiles of the Reyes’ foyer.

Mr. Reyes’ face was unreadable at the moment, but TK could imagine the line of his thoughts. The two of them no more wanted to spend time with each other alone than either would want a hole in the head.

Mr. Reyes, however, was the first to recover from the abrupt change in plan, with a direct capitulation that TK could have punched him for, had he been a less tactful man. “That…would be agreeable,” he said haltingly. He turned to look at TK, who schooled his countenance into something less vile than he felt this turn of events warranted. “Would that please you, Mr. Strand?”

Would it please him? Absolutely not.

“Of course, Mr. Reyes,” he said tightly, resigned to his fate. “I look forward to seeing your lovely estate and hearing its history.”

Mr. Reyes looked almost surprised at his cordiality, and TK congratulated himself on his capability of social falsehood.

_______

Their journey was to take them from the back of the house out and around the northwest corner of the ranchland where they would stop to breakfast at a small manmade lake and then south to the orchards, through which they would find themselves back at the west side of the house. All told, Carlos informed him, the trip would take them for six miles. TK resigned himself to a morning of misery, and judging by his would-be companion’s face, he was not alone in that regard.

Their basket of provisions securely fastened to Mr. Reyes’ saddle, and both saddles securely fastened to their mares, the pair set off in silence other than Owen’s shout of farewell from the porch.

They strolled along at a leisurely pace—too slow for TK’s regard—for quite a while before either spoke. Mr. Reyes looked over to TK with a judgemental eye before saying, “Watch for snakes in the grass. Flor will not spook at them, but she will spook if you do.”

“I’m not afraid of snakes,” TK snapped, although he couldn’t rightly say he’d ever seen one up close. “Furthermore, I am high on this horse, why would I worry about something as low as a snake?”

“Rattlers can jump. They’ll have your boot off and will have half devoured your leg before you can think to turn the horse.”

TK whirled to look at him, consequently causing Flor to twist toward Mr. Reyes and Jimena, putting them much closer than TK would like after their bout that morning. He knew his face was a mask of barely concealed horror, the image Mr. Reyes’ words had conjured up no less than tremendously frightening to a city gentleman.

Mr. Reyes’ face, however, was all mirth; his cheeks were reddening in the effort of holding back his obvious laughter, which he gave up the moment TK noticed his ruse.

“That was a bold-faced lie and you are a scoundrel for it,” TK muttered, feeling teased.

“I’ll take that judgement just to see the terror on your face again,” Mr. Reyes laughed. TK was determined not to acknowledge that the man had a nice laugh, a full bodied, soft-edged one that sent warmth down to the tips of TK’s toes. TK was also determined to keep the scowl upon his face for the whole of this journey, never mind the wrinkles he was likely to develop. Curse this loathsome cowboy and his ill intentions and his shining curls and his full lips. They lapsed into silence again for another half mile.

In his endeavor to ignore his companion, TK failed to notice how he was being closely regarded by said companion. He should have been able to feel the gaze upon the side of his face like sunlight as heavy and warm as it was, but alas he remained ignorant of it in favor of the beautiful countryside.

TK began to notice little strains of wildflowers growing on the gentle swells of hills here and there, their elevations no more than four or five feet. It was like looking at someone’s floral bedding that had been disturbed in sleep and not righted in the morning; soft, loved, and lived in, a safe place to come back to at the end of the day, a warm comfort to calm the tumultuous stresses one was apt to battle in the waking hours.

“The red and orange ones that reach toward the sky are called Indian Paintbrush,” Mr. Reyes intoned softly causing TK to turn his gaze away from the flowers in a startle. It had been so quiet he’d almost forgotten his company. “There,” Mr. Reyes pointed, urging TK to return his focus to the flowers. “That line there is all paintbrush. And the purple spiked ones are Horsemint.”

“Why are they so named? Do they taste of mint?” TK wondered aloud.

“I’m…not sure. I’ve never had occasion or urge to eat one. Perhaps the name means only horses would taste the mint, but Flor and Jimena do not seem so inclined either.” His chuckle was tacked on at the end, but it didn’t feel accusatory this time. It sounded as if TK had honestly stumped him with his question and he was considering the answer in earnest, but had ultimately come up short of a correct guess.

TK focused again on the sweeping little hills as they continued to trot along. “And the pink ones? What are they called?”

“Ah, I believe those are Evening Primrose. Those are the most prominent of the wildflowers here, as I’m sure you can tell. Quite boring to look at compared to the others, but a constant nonetheless.” His tone gave TK the impression that he, too, found the fields of flowers calming. It would make sense, seeing as this was his homeland. Or…was it?

“Have you always lived here? Or did your family come into the property recently?”

“My great-grandfather purchased the land at a pretty steep discount in twenty-six, just a couple of years after the Colonization Law took effect. He came far enough north that he wouldn’t be too crowded in with the rest of his countrymen, and settled the bit to the south of us, where the house is located. He did build it, but it was not as large as it is now. It’s been expanded with both generations since, I believe.”

“Your great-grandfather came from Mexico to settle?”

“Technically, this was Mexico still when he came, since the war for Independence was not won until thirty-six. But yes, he came from Guadalajara. He thought less over cultivated land would suit better for cattle ranching, and it turns out he was right. We now have three hundred head.” His voice was proud as he recounted the story, and TK was drawn in by the clear reverence he had for his family history. He wanted to hear more, so he asked after how the estate came to be so large.

“My grandfather negotiated the rest of the land from the tribes settled here at the time, which admittedly were so few in number that the endeavor was swift. He offered them fifty head and a handsome cash sum as well, and the deal was struck in accord. The tribe moved north to the central territories and are still there today I believe. We’ve had a few high ranking members as visitors in my youth, and they were always amiable and welcome.”

Mr. Reyes’ soft smile had drawn TK’s attention again and this time he let himself look. The man practically glowed as he talked of his heritage, his family, and it was rather intoxicating. TK wanted to ask after more, but it seemed they’d reach the aforementioned lake that they were to stop and break their fast beside. He allowed Flor to carry them to a stop at a suitable spot and dismounted, again allowing himself to watch as Mr. Reyes did the same. He was taken in by the same fluidity and grace as he had been the day previous, before their awful actual meeting.

TK was finding it hard to remember Mr. Reyes being crass yesterday, no matter how hard he tried.

In tandem, they  spread out an extra saddle blanket in the grass, still slightly damp from the morning dew. Their provisions were divvied up and tea was poured into metal cups, and TK was just about to take his first sip when Mr. Reyes spoke, and his tone bade TK listen carefully.

“Mr. Strand—“

Without rightfully thinking about it, TK interrupted him with, “Please, you should call me TK. Well, my name is Tyler, but only my father calls me that. Friends call me TK.”

Mr. Reyes looked taken aback for a moment, possibly at the implication of friends , but TK kept his face impassive. He’d not have them making a mountain out of a grain of sand such as a name. They were to be business acquaintances anyway, and they should address each other as such. All of Owen’s partners called him by his first name, so TK took a page from his book by extending the offer. It would help keep his mind firmly on their business relationship.

It absolutely was not so he could hear his name, both sharp consonants of it, softened in Mr. Reyes’ steady timbre.

“TK,” he corrected, and the named man swallowed a sigh at being proven right about the sound of it coming off those lips. “I would like to—that is, I am committed to—well, what I would like to say is—“ he halted, frowning down at an apple clutched in his own hand. He set the apple aside, and turned to TK directly.

“TK, I mean to sincerely apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was rude and judgmental without cause, and I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me that transgression, as I do hope we are able to work together seamlessly in this partnership.”

It seemed sincere, TK thought. The man’s eyes were fervent and his face was open in a way it hadn’t been since the Strands had arrived. For a moment, TK was lost in those eyes that reflected the climbing sunrise off the water of the small lake like Mr. Reyes was radiating the warmth of goodwill through his very irises. His eyes were soft, inviting, shining with their earnestness. It was a long moment before he spoke, which Mr. Reyes seemed to take as reservation but was in fact TK pure preoccupation with studying the man’s face at the most inappropriate of times.

“I do hope I haven’t ruined things between my family and yours,” Mr. Reyes went on. “It’s just that I—well I’m quite attached to my home here and my pride is tied up in what my forefathers accomplished.”

“To see it broken up and sold off is to admit defeat that this generation could not hold the line,” TK finished for him, and his eyes grew wide.

“Yes, precisely.”

“I have misgivings about that kind of thing also. My father built such a tremendous enterprise—nothing like the Vanderbilts of course, but sprawling in reach nonetheless. I…find myself at times overwhelmed with the prospect of taking it on alone.” It must have been the country air, the absence of all human life for a few miles, and the still burgeoning sunrise combined that made his tongue so loose with such intimate thoughts. Surely he was losing control of his faculties if he was given to sharing his heart in this way, TK mused.

Even so, Mr. Reyes’ face had not closed off yet; it remained open and inviting to those thoughts and perhaps welling up with some of his own to share, now that the barrier had lost a few bricks and they could see each other over their respective sides of the wall they’d built over the previous day and evening.

“But, you won’t do it alone, will you? You cannot inherit until you marry, by law,” Mr. Reyes reminded him. Those deep brown eyes were on him again, somehow more liquid than before. TK must be imagining things now. He blinked the line of thought away.

“Yes, that’s true. But who’s to say I’ll marry a man who wants to be involved in the railroad business? My true love may be a man of the arts, constantly shut away in his studio creating pieces to adorn our home and teaching our children to appreciate the craft of them. Or he may be a man strongly devoted to politics and spend months away from home campaigning for the betterment of the American people. Or he may prefer the country life to the city, and I must remain in the city for the business for the bulk of the year. So you see, I may yet end up running the business alone, even if my life will not be spent in solitude. If I marry for love, I’ll be glad of that connection regardless if I get help with the business. Help is not what I’ll be marrying; it will be companionship outside of worldly endeavors that will make it worthwhile.” The picture he’d painted for himself inside his head was content, and he noticed he’d closed his eyes for a moment while he’d intimated the details to Mr. Reyes.

When he opened his eyes and refocused on his company, he saw Mr. Reyes duck his head slightly, a faint blush high on his tanned cheekbones. TK wondered if the other man was embarrassed of the intimate turn their conversation had taken, and hurried to move them to more casual topics.

“I do apologize, Mr. Reyes, I did not mean to be overly familiar with you. God above, it must be the early hour that has me as yet unable to master all my faculties.”

“No, please, do not apologize. I simply—that is—I do…admire your candor and conviction. Marrying for love is not rare, but it is not the standard. To be so assured of your path in life is enviable. I admit I haven’t given much thought to it myself.”

“You don’t think of who you’ll marry?” TK asked. He’d thought of nothing else since he was a boy.

At this, Mr. Reyes’ eyes turned down for a moment, a cloud of something passing over his features before the sun shone through his expression again. “Not in the sense you’ve described, no. I supposed I always knew I would marry, because I knew I would not inherit the estate—though I do envy Rosa a bit—but I’ve never imagined what kind of man I would spend my life with. I always assumed I’d know who he was when he came along.”

Their eyes met and for a moment not even the crickets or birds or any other constantly buzzing creature could be heard. TK was the first to break it, albeit in a slightly hushed tone.

“And he hasn’t come along yet?” he asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Mr. Reyes answered. He looked disinclined to elaborate. They gazed at each other a moment longer before Mr. Reyes broke the contact and gestured to their spread. “We should partake of Mrs. Smith’s generous meal. It seems she packed for much more than three this morning,” he laughed, and it only sounded a little forced. “I assure you, the fresh bacon cooked in rosemary will change your perspective on life the moment it hits your tongue.”

TK took the change in subject gracefully, also keen to step back from the precipice they’d found themselves on much too early in their acquaintance, truth be told. They’d forgotten themselves but no harm had been done, and they could go on as intended—as short-term business collaborators only.

_______

They rode the rest of the way around the western perimeter as the sun reached higher in the sky, Mr. Reyes pointing out landmarks here and there. Ostensibly this outing was for TK to survey the land for it’s viability for their project, and he was doing so, but he was also enamored with Mr. Reyes’ ability to guide them along with enthusiasm and grace. It was very clear the man loved his home and was deeply proud of it, and TK was entranced when he talked.

By the time they reached the apple orchard, TK had stopped deluding himself that he wasn’t fond of Mr. Reyes. He’d had his misgivings from the beginning, and for good reason, but there was a good man underneath the initial prickliness. Mr. Reyes could be likened to a cat protecting its young. Docile for the most part until his family was threatened, and TK could see where he’d felt that way initially. Mr. Reyes had come around quickly though and TK was not sure how much of that was due to his mother’s insistence and how much was just their conversation on this journey around the property in the early morning light.

“It smells so heavenly here,” TK mused aloud as the horses picked their way between the lines of trees. To be able to be abreast of each other to properly hold a conversation, the horses were so close that occasionally TK’s knee or thigh brushed against Mr. Reyes’. It startled him each time, even though he’d come to expect it. He supposed it startled his body but not his mind, which was a disconcerting feeling indeed, but not altogether unpleasant.

“They are called Gala apples. They thrive quite well here in the moderate rain. Would you like to try one?” Mr. Reyes asked. TK nodded with a small smile, and watched as Mr. Reyes dismounted Jimena and left her untethered. He turned back to TK and held out his hand. “Come along, it tastes better if you fetch it from the tree yourself,” he teased.

TK stared at the outstretched hand before taking it and dismounting gracefully, coming familiarly close to Mr. Reyes for the second time that day. This time, only their hands were touching as opposed to their whole bodies—as they had been on the stairs that morning—but it felt almost more intimate. TK noticed that they’d paused to regard one another again as they had multiple times on this journey. However, as they had done each time, they broke their gazes and their contact and went on as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. The only problem was that each time it happened—and this incident more than all he rest—set his heart aflutter in such a way as to distract from all else in the moment. It took him increasingly longer to come back to himself each time.

He watched as Mr. Reyes took a wooden-runged ladder from a pile on the ground and set it against the trunk of the nearest tree. Deftly, he climbed a few feet, reached up, and plucked a ripe bit of fruit from one of the lower branches before coming down off the ladder assuredly, his steps practiced as if he’d done this a thousand times before. Perhaps he had.

TK held his hand out for the fruit, but Mr. Reyes pulled it back and away. “Ah, ah. This one is mine. I told you, it tastes better if you fetch it yourself. I set your example, now it’s your turn,” he said, spitefully taking bite out of his prize, then using it to gesture to the ladder.

Unfettered by Mr. Reyes’ teasing, TK was determined to show that he could keep up with his companion’s prowess. He approached the ladder, assessing it for any weak points before tentatively stepping onto the first rung. It bowed gently under his weight, and he paused a moment to gather himself.

He felt a hand upon his hip and froze for a moment, feeling distinctly untethered. Looking down, TK saw Mr. Reyes’ earnest eyes on him, one hand steadying TK on the ladder and the other still casually consuming his fruit. He gave TK a reassuring smile and nodded in the direction of the tree, encouraging.

The climb to the correct height took TK a bit longer than it had the cowboy who was used to such endeavors, but he managed. He plucked a juicy-looking specimen from a close branch before carefully climbing down, deliberately placing each footfall for optimum support from the wooden rungs below him. It was slow and arduous, but he accomplished it.

Once landed on the ground, he held up his spoil triumphantly. Mr. Reyes smiled.

“And now, Mr. City Gentleman, you have farmed apples!” He declared.

TK bit his lip for a half-second before being unable to hold back his mirthful laughter. His eyes crinkled and his cheeks ached with it, and it felt so good that he didn’t notice his companion was gazing at him once more, admiration and awe in his expression. When his laughter came down to a more manageable level a few seconds later, they were caught in each other once again, as they had been many times that day. TK’s smile was still spread across his face and he looked up through his lashes at Mr. Reyes to see a serenity over his countenance that had yet to be shown since they’d known each other.

It was beautiful.

Just as quickly as the moment had began, it passed, with Mr. Reyes fingering his collar away from his neck in what seemed like a nervous gesture. “The heat is beginning to get oppressive,” he offered in explanation, though said heat was not yet unbearable in the slightest. “We should retreat to the safety of the house.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I wonder if our parents have concluded their negotiations for the day. I’d like to convene with my father to let him know what I’ve seen.”

“Of course, well. Shall we?” Mr. Reyes gestured down the path between the trees, Jimena’s reins held loosely in his hand as he led her on foot. TK grabbed Flor’s lead and followed in quiet contemplation. He realized his manners had slipped.

“Thank you, Mr. Reyes, for this tour. It was enlightening, as well as a pleasant diversion.”

“You are most welcome. And please, call me Carlos. After all, we are to be friends, as you put it.” His smile was radiant.

“Carlos,” TK tried out the name on his tongue with a nod. It tasted like the smoothest brandy, and TK felt like he was already drunk off of one sip.

“I wanted to reiterate my apology, to make sure it is clear. I judged you and your father before I allowed you to state your intentions. Your plans for the land, so far as you’ve told me, will not impact our operation negatively and I get the distinct feeling it is your mission to keep things that way as you work your way across the country. So I thank you for your discretion, and I once again humbly ask you to forgive my behavior yesterday.”

“It is already forgiven!” TK tells him, wanting to put any and all ill will behind them after such a glorious morning. “Do not worry over it any longer. Let us be friends from this day forth.”

Carlos smiled so wide it momentarily arrested TK’s heart.

They reached the house in due course to find Elena on the porch frantically waving a piece of paper in her delicate hands. They tethered the horses to the post off the side of the house and approached. The girl looked as if she could barely form words through her excitement.

“Carlos!” She cried as they ascended the steps and removed their hats. “Guess who’s coming to the ball tomorrow night!”

“I’m sure you will tell me without me having to guess,” her brother teased good-naturedly, sharing a conspiratorial smile with TK as they passed into the foyer.

“Mr. de Castillo,” Elena said, giving the name a weight that surely meant something, but which TK could not discern. He’d never heard the name before, but then again he did not know the upper class set of this region well enough to know their names and statuses that might warrant such excitement.

When TK turned to face Carlos, he wondered what Elena could find so appealing that her brother seemed to find mildly horrifying, judging by his expression. His eyes cut to TK and they almost looked…guilty.

Elena went on, oblivious to her brother’s distress. “His letter is posted from Santa Fe nearly two weeks ago, and he says he should arrive just in time to dress and attend. Isn’t that marvelous news, Carlos? He hasn’t come east since the fall. Oh how we’ve all missed him.” She put emphasis on certain parts of her sentence that didn’t entirely make sense to TK, but he could feel a growing lump in the pit of his stomach as he watched Carlos’ face drain of color slightly.

“He sounds like a character who’s good to know, if his presence at a dance excites you this much,” he offered to Elena to try and ease the focus off of Carlos, for he seemed unable to speak at that moment.

“Oh, it’s not me he excites,” Elena said, cutting her eyes to TK’s right, smirking but saying nothing more. TK did not turn to look at Carlos again, because that lump in his stomach was getting heavier the more Elena talked and he was not rightfully sure he could put a name to it just yet. Looking at Carlos’ guilty face was surely to spell it out quicker than he’d like. He halted his train of thought and plowed on.

“Well, I look forward to meeting this esteemed Mr. de Castillo. You said he’s not come east—do you mean to say he is from the west coast?”

“Yes, San Fransisco! His father rushed there in forty-nine and made quite the coup. They’re able to give the Rockefellers a run for their money, I’d wager,” she said. “And he’s so handsome as well.”

That bit tacked on at the end was again delivered with a weighted look at Carlos which TK again ignored.

He was saved from replying to Elena’s last comment by his father and the Doña appearing in the foyer.

“What’s got everyone in a fuss?” Owen asked.

“Mr. Fernando de Castillo is coming to the ball tomorrow night!” Elena exclaimed, elated to share her momentous news with anyone who would listen.

“De Castillo…” Owen pondered, “Is that Isador de Castillo’s boy? Of San Fransisco?”

“Yes, the very same. Mr. de Castillo the younger visits us quite often, as he’s got business back east with his company and likes to stop for a week or so on his way through. We’ve all grown quite fond of him, especially Car—“

“That’s quite enough, Elena. The Mr.’s Strand are not interested in country gossip. Run along and find Constance to start your lessons. Your sisters are already studying while you’ve been flitting about.” The Doña’s voice was firm and clearly dismissive. She glanced at her son and TK in turn, before turning her attention back to Owen. “Mr. Strand, might we all go into the drawing room for tea? Our sons can regale us of their journey around the property.”

Owen’s smile was wide and eager as he looked to the two young men. “Of course, I cannot wait to hear your thoughts on the land, TK. The Doña and I will also impart to you what we’ve agreed upon thus far, though there are still the finer details to work out.”

Carlos immediately followed Owen into the room off the left side of the foyer, barely sparing TK a glance in contrast to all their lingering looks throughout the morning. That, combined with Elena’s cryptic words regarding their future guest, unsettled TK more than he would have liked. Still, he was determined to soldier on in his mission to become good friends and business partners with Carlos and the rest of the Reyes’, and he’d not let a silly thing like a matter of the heart—which may not even exist—get in his way.

[ezpezlemonsquez]

Okay, so basically I was in a mood for adult gaang reunion, so I wrote this. Here you are, hope you’ll enjoy ✨

“Just like old times”

“Suki, come on, we’re gonna be late!” called out Sokka, entering their hut. Again. “Everything’s ready but you two.”

His wife laughed.

“Relax, Sokka, they won’t start without us. And you know that Yue needs to have her hair done.” She raised her eyebrows, while she was running fingers through her daughter’s hair.

“Yeah, dad, you know that” she took up, making a face to him. Sokka shook his head both with disbelief and a smile. He sat down, watching his beautiful ladies.

“I’m not worried they’d start without us, though” he explained. “There’s no fun without Sokka, duh.”

Suki rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m just concerned Katara’s going to get there earlier than I am.”

His wife even turned her head from Yue’s hair to him, only to see his priceless face expression.

“You didn’t bet with Katara again, did you?” she asked, lowkey already knowing the answer.

“Well, I couldn’t let her win just like that.” Sokka shrugged his shoulders. Suki sighed.

“You’re gonna lose, sweetie” she proclaimed.

“Not if we sticked to my schedule, I wouldn’t.”

“You didn’t make the time for mom to braid my hair, dad” slipped Yue. “You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

“Why excuse me, I assumed mom can braid your hair on ship” explained Sokka, extremely offended. His daughter shook her head as much as Suki’s hands in her hair allowed her to.

“Absolutely not possible.”

Sokka looked at his wife, seeking help. Suki shrugged with a smile.

“There’s nothing I can do. You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

Chief sighed and shook his head, defeated. This whole trip already started to go totally not as planned.

***

Sokka got off the ship and wasn’t even surprised that the first person who greeted him wasn’t neither Zuko, nor Aang, nor Toph and not even Mai.

“Hello, looser.” Grinned Katara. Sokka rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up” he mumbled, hugging her in greeting. “It’s all Suki’s fault, by the way.”

Katara laughed.

“It kind of is” admitted Suki, also going for a hug. “It’s so great to see you, Katara, how are you doing?”

“I’m great, I’m really great. Tenzin is growing up so fast, you wouldn’t believe it.” She laughed. “I can’t believe it’s been almost a year.”

“I know, right? You’ve been out of the South for so long, we really missed you back there.”

“I didn’t” slipped Sokka teasingly, unpacking things from the ship. His sister hit him in the arm.

“Go back to carrying stuff, Sokka” she spat.

“Wait, honey, I’ll give you a hand” suggested Suki.

“No need, I’m doing great!” cried out her husband, taking three more boxes. “I mean, I definitely can see right now, so... tell me if I step on somebody, please” he puffed, trying to see the road.

Suki shook her head.

“Excuse me” she whispered to Katara and went to help out her husband. She took from him two boxes so that he could actually see something. He smiled to her gratefully. Katara grinned. And then she saw a little girl getting off the ship, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Are we there yet?” she asked, yawning and when nobody answered her, she looked around. Katara crossed her arms, waiting to be noticed. “Aunt Katara!” cried out Yue immediately after she spotted her. She ran towards her and before Katara knew it, she wrapped her little arms around her.

“Aunt Katara, I missed you so much!”

Katara laughed, hugging her niece back.

“I missed you, too, Yue. Look at you, all grown up! You’re a beautiful young lady.”

“Not as beautiful as you are, though.” Grinned Yue and her aunt shook her head. “Are Bumi and Kya here? And uncle Aang?”

“They are, you’ll meet them at the palace. And Tenzin’s with them as well.”

“Oh...” Yue made a face. “Is he still so squishy-looking?”

“I’m afraid he is” laughed Katara. “And you certainly are Sokka’s daughter” she added silently, shaking her head. Sokka walked up to them and took Yue’s hand.

“We’re ready, you’re coming?” asked his sister. She nodded and all four of them set off to the Fire Nation Royal Palace, where the rest was waiting for them. They saw Toph first, even though she didn’t exactly see them.

“Zuko” she started, before anyone was able to say something “needs to be put in his place. Who does he think he is, huh?”

“Uhh, try the Fire Lord” smiled Suki.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t give a f...”

“Toph” interrupted her Suki, warningly. Toph seemed confused for a moment, but she finally understood when someone started to aggressively shake her hand.

“Right. Hi, kid.”

“Hey, aunt Toph” said Yue, very proud of herself for not giving Beifong a hug. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Yeah, I’d say the same about you but since I don’t actually see you...”

Yue grinned.

“I know. Hey, mom, dad, can I go inside and look for Bumi and Kya?”

Sokka nodded.

“Sure. But don’t forget to greet every... aaaand she’s gone already.”

“I don’t know why you sound so surprised, Chief Boomerang, you’d do exactly the same.”

“I know, right? It’s terrifying.” Smiled Sokka. “Anyways, it’s great to finally meet up. Man, I’ve been waiting for this whole reunion thing. We should do this annually.”

“We do” reminded Suki. “You came up with it.”

“Oh, right, I’m a genius.”

“You know, even with the inability to see, I can give you this look” said Toph, making a face to him, as if she’d been saying ‘really?’.

“And even with the ability to see, I can pretend I don’t get it” announced Sokka. “Come on, Toph, I’m sure Zuko has already repaired whatever you were mad with him about” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and dragging her up the stairs.

“I am mad” spat Toph but let Sokka lead her inside the palace. “Present tense. And you didn’t even give me a chance to say hi to Suki.”

“I was pretty sure you did that.”

“What a detective” scoffed Toph.

“One more word and I’ll push you down these stairs and you know it” threatened Sokka. His friend just shook her head in response. Upstairs waited for them Aang.

“Oh, great, I was supposed to go after Toph, but I see this problem has been already resolved.” Laughed the Avatar.

“Who are you calling the problem, Twinkletoes?” tried to spit Toph, but she got quickly undermined, as no one reacted.

“Sokka, finally” sighed Aang, hugging his friend.

“Long time no see, huh, the fearsome Avatar?” Grinned Sokka. “I heard you’re doing pretty well by organising the world.”

“I am, thank you very much.” Laughed Aang. “Republic City is glowing.”

“I believe you. The South Pole is glowing, too.”

“I know. Just a little bit more and we’ll be there, promise.” Smiled Aang. “Suki, you look beautiful!” he called out, when he saw her. He held out his hands to hug her.

“Thank you, Aang, so do you.” Laughed Suki. “We missed you.”

“He promised they’ll be back soon” slipped Sokka, giving Aang a judgy look.

“Can we please move along?” Toph kicked her heels. “I gotta kick Zuko’s butt.”

“Toph, you cannot do this.” Sighed Aang, walking with her further to the palace. “We’ve been over this.”

Sokka and Suki smiled to each other. He put an arm around her waist and gently kissed her temple. Katara placed her hand at her brother’s shoulder and smiled.

“Come on” she encouraged. “Zuko and Mai are dying to meet up with you two. Besides, dinner’s almost ready.”

Sokka gave her a knowing look.

“Well, you should’ve started with that, sister!”

***

They met with the rest in the dining room. Everyone was there — Yue played with Bumi and Kya (and Kya’s waterbending), Mai was trying to calm down Izumi, who was somehow scared by Ty Lee and her tricks, while Aang tried to prevent bloodshed between Zuko and Toph. Sokka sighed.

“Just like old times, huh?”

“Just like old times” admitted Suki. She slipped out of Sokka’s arm and walked up to Ty Lee. The Kyoshi Warrior lit up immediately as she saw her.

“Hey, boss.” She smiled, bowing to her funnily. Suki shook her head.

“Hello, my dear warrior” she replied, bowing back. “Come on, bring it in.” She laughed as Ty Lee hugged her excitedly.

“It’s so good to see you, Suki. I wish you would visit us more often.”

“Me too.”

“We’re going to” assured Sokka, walking up to them. “This period of time was just super hard for both of us.”

“It was.” Nodded Suki.

“Hi, Ty Lee.” Sokka held out his hand to her and smiled.

“Sokka” greeted him Ty Lee, squeezing his hand. “Everything alright at the South Pole?”

“They’re certainly doing better than we are” replied Mai, before anyone else could answer the question. “I’d give you my hand but they’re both kind of busy.” She looked at her daughter suggestively. “It’s great you made it, though”

“We get it.” Smiled Suki. “You’re not getting much sleep, are you?”

Mai snorted.

“Much is overstatement.” She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, great, my husband’s coming. Well, Izumi, dad will put you to sleep.”

“Sokka, Suki.” Smiled Zuko and hugged both of them. “Yue’s greeted me like fifteen minutes ago, what took you so long?”

“Oh, see, she greeted him” said Suki to Sokka, smiling suggestively. Sokka made a proud face.

“She’s got great manners, she even addressed me Fire Lord Uncle Zuko.” Laughed Zuko.

“Speaking of” slipped Mai, handing his husband the baby. “It’s your turn to put Izumi to sleep.”

Zuko raised his eyebrows.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s your turn now.”

“Nope” denied Mai, shaking her head.

The two of them looked each other in the eye for a moment, until Zuko finally gave up. “Damn it, why is uncle still in Ba Sing Se when I need him?” he mumbled. Mai smiled triumphantly. “Okay, sweetie, say goodnight to your uncle Sokka and aunt Suki and aunt Ty Lee, you’re going to sleep. I mean, I hope you are.” He gave his friends ‘I am so done’ look and was about to leave, when he reminded himself of something else.

“Oh, and of course make yourself comfortable, guys. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

Suki smiled.

“Don’t worry, we won’t start without you.”

“We won’t?” groaned Sokka.

“No, we won’t, Sokka.”

Zuko rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Thanks, Suki” he said and left with little Izumi pulling his hair, which he was totally indifferent to.

“Wait, Zuko, you forgot...” started Mai, going after her husband. Ty Lee smiled to them and went back to the table. Suki hugged Sokka.

“Just like old times.” She sighed, repeating his words. Sokka smiled and hugged her tighter.

“Just like old times.”

[discotreque]

LwD 1.10, “No Small Parts”

Well, that was the most fun I've had watching Star Trek in literally a quarter of a century.

I had high hopes for this series. I love TAS, largely because of its wacky outsized concepts that could only have worked in animation—not that they all did work, but the potential was so apparent to me, even as a kid reading the Alan Dean Foster novelizations—and as an adult, there's something about the imagination of Lower Decks's FX setpieces that transcends even the glorious CGI bonanzas of Discovery.

Pause for a confession. I've long pushed back against criticism of serialization in new Trek. That's just how TV is now, okay? Might as well complain about it being in widescreen. But I'm backing down a little, because I've realized there is something about Star Trek that's inextricable from at least a partially-episodic format. And while Picard was telling a different kind of story, I can't deny that my favourite episodes of Disco have been the ones with a mostly self-contained A-plot. After 10 delightfully episodic instalments of LwD, its focus on long-term development of characters instead of a season-spanning puzzle-plot (okay, mostly just Mariner, but we only have 10 × 22 minutes and she is the star) has been downright refreshing.

So here we are, at the end of the most consistent and well-executed Season 1 of a Star Trek series since, arguably, Those Old Scientists. And sure, if they'd had to produce another... yikes, 42 episodes? Then sure, they probably would have dropped a clunker or two—but they didn't, and winning on a technicality is still winning. I'm practically vibrating with excitement for Disco to come back next week, but damn, I'm going to miss this little show while it's on hiatus.

Spoilers below:

Something I've been keeping track of finally paid off this week! (Which never happens to me, lol.) The destruction of the USS Solvang marked the first present-day death(s) of any Starfleet officer on Lower Decks, the only other on-screen killing at all being a flashback in "Cupid's Errant Arrow". Which makes sense, being (a) a comedy, and (b) about typically "expendable" characters: it hasn't been afraid to flirt with a little darkness here and there, but killing people off at Star Trek's usual pace wouldn't just be wrong for the tone, it would be downright bizarre.

But... people die on Star Trek. That's one of the core themes of the show, really: space is full of knowledge and beauty, but also danger and terror, and believing that the former is worth the risk of the latter is (according to Trek) one of humanity's most noble traits. I'm the least bloodthirsty TV watcher I know, but the longer we went with a body count of nil—ships completely evacuated before they were destroyed, main characters hilariously maimed without permanent consequences, etc.—well, I didn't mind per se, but the absence of truly deadly stakes was definitely getting conspicuous.

Turns out they were saving it up for maximum impact. And holy fuck, I've never felt such a pit in my stomach watching a ship get destroyed that wasn't named Enterprise. It felt grim and brutal and somehow both much too quick and dreadfully inevitable—and yeah, it looked extremely fucking cool—and I'd like every other Star Trek property for the rest of time to take notes under a large bold heading labeled RESTRAINT.

Comedy doesn't need to do this, but my favourite comedy does, and in a way that few other art forms can even approach: lower my emotional defences by making me laugh, endear character(s) to me with goofy-but-relatable antics—then BAM, sucker-punch me in the motherfucking feels. M*A*S*H is probably the classic example on TV, Futurama was notorious for it, and even Archer has pulled it off a few times; it's also a staple of some of my favourite standup. I wasn't sure if Lower Decks was going to go there in Season 1—and wasn't sure if they'd earn it—but I knew if they did, that they'd nail it, and damn. Feels good to be right.

Last batch of notes for the season!!! I rambled enough already, so let's do it liveblog-style:

I fucking KNEW they were going to use "archive" visuals from TAS at some point, I KNEW IT :D

"THOSE OLD SCIENTISTS" ahahahahahahahahahahahaha

I like chill and confident Boimler a lot? You can really see—

oh bRADWARD NOOOOO

That opening shot of the Solvang tracking down to the red giant was extremely Discovery-esque... minus the motion sickness, that is

A lady captain AND a lady first officer? That's—oh hey, it's Captain Dayton's brand-new ship. Hahaha, that means they're totally fucked, right?.

Yep! They sure a—umm, wh—shit, okay, but—oh no—no, you can't—wait DON'T

...fuck

FUCK.

Narrator: "And then Amy needed a five-hour break."

[live-action Star Trek showrunner voice] "Gee, Mike! Why does CBS let you have two cold opens?"

Okay, yes, the bit with Rutherford cycling through all the different attitudes in his implant was transparently an excuse for Eugene Cardero to vamp while waiting for something to do in the story, but as far as I'm concerned they can contrive a reason for him to do a bunch of different silly Rutherfords in a row any time they damn well want, because that was classic!!!

EXOCOMP EXOCOMP EXOCOMP EXOCOMP

AND THE EXOCOMP IS PAINTED LIKE THE EXOCOMP IS WEARING A LITTLE EXOCOMP-SIZED STARFLEET UNIFORM

EXOCOMP!!!!!

The slow burn and now the payoff of the Mariner-is-Freeman's-secret-daughter plot has been executed so well. I'm beyond impressed with this writer's room, y'all—they are threading a hell of a needle here

"Wolf 359 was an inside job" would have been a spit-take if I'd had anything in my mouth

...how many memos do you think Starfleet Command has had to issue asking people to stop calling the USS Sacramento "the Sac"?

CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW THEY'VE DECORATED THE SHUTTLECRAFT SEQUOIA THOUGH

Is, uh, is it weird if I'm starting to ship Tendi and Peanut Hamper a little? It is weird, isn't it. I knew it was weird...

Coital barbs??? I take back everything I said about wanting to know more about Shaxs/T'Ana.

The "good officer" version of Mariner is... kind of hot, tbh! But Tawny Newsome has done such a great job of building this character all season that her voice getting uncharacteristically clipped and martial and "sir! yes, sir!" is also deeply, deeply weird

Ah, so this is literally exactly like when TNG (and DS9) would bring in, and then blow up, a never-before-seen Galaxy-class ship, just to underscore that we're facing a real threat this week, baby. And hey, it fucking worked—my heart was in my throat, omg, for the reveal of the—

PAKLEDS?????????

The fucking PAKLEDS have been gluing weapons to their ships for the last 15 years. GREAT.

(We interrupt the SHIP BEING SLICED INTO SCRAP for an interesting bit of world-building: on Earth, the traditional First Contact Day meal is salmon!)

"I need a dangerous, half-baked solution that breaks Starfleet codes and totally pisses me off! That's an order." I'm starting to think Captain Freeman might actually be overqualified for the Cerritos, y'all—she's REALLY awesome

OH SHIT IT'S BADGEY, this is a TERRIBLE IDEA

"How much contraband have you hidden on my ship?" "I don't know! A lot!"

Awwww, Boims!!!

AHAHAHAHAHAHA, FUCK THIS, PEANUT HAMPER OUT

BADGEY NOOOOO

AUGHHHHH WHAT THE CHRIST DID HE JUST—BUT—RUTHERFORD'S IMPLANT????

RUTHERFORD!!!!!!!!!!

SHAXS!!!!!!

F U C K ! ! ! ! !

ahaIOPugdfhagntpgjrq90e5mgu90qe5;oigoqgw4ouegrw5SP;IAEHURVa IT’S THE TITAN???????????

IT'S CAPTAIN WILLIAM T. RIKER ON THE MOTHERFUCKING TITAN??????????

i'm screaming I'M SCREAMINGGGGGG​TGGGTGQER;​LBHAOIBVNV;​OAPBIJNVagr;h;​oagruipuwtnaetbaetgq35ghqet

I'M SO GLAD THIS WASN'T SPOILED FOR ME WTF

I AM WEEPING LIKE A CHILD

...

(Just a brief 20-minute pause this time)

And oh wow, seeing Will and Deanna hits different after Picard too, in a few different ways, which I may even get into later now that my heartrate is back to normal, lmao

Oh, I am always here for some jokes at the expense of the Sovereign class. The Enterprise-E sucked. They should have built a new bigger model of the D and new Galaxy-class interiors for the TNG movies, and I will die on that hill

OKAY, FINE, YOU GOT ME, RUTHERFORD × TENDI WOULD BE ADORABLE AND THIS IS ACTUALLY A PRETTY GOOD SETUP FOR IT

Awwww, Shaxs though :( Congrats on the single most badass death in Star Trek history, dude. The Prophets would—well, the actual Prophets would probably be slightly confused about most of it, but Kira Nerys would be proud of you and I feel like that probably counts for more. RIP, Papa Bear

I am here all damn DAY for the Mariner–Riker parallels, ahahahahaha

Pausing it to record my prediction that Boimler's commitment to not caring about rank anymore is going to last 3... 2...

Yep.

Bradward, how DARE YOU.

"Those guys had a long road, getting from there to here." OH FOR THE LOVE OF—

What a brilliant way to resolve and renew the various character arcs and relationships moving into Season 2! The writers could easily have brought everything back to status quo—chaotic Mariner fighting with her mom and being a bad influence on Boimler, etc.—and done another 10 just like these, but I suspect that wouldn't have been ambitious enough for these writers. What a blast. I cannot wait for more.

Thanks for following along, friends! Stay tuned for my (similarly patchy and amateur) coverage of Discovery, starting next week!

[redrobinhoods]

Sticks and Stones | Chapter 1, godforsaken mess

AO3 Link | 2,200 words (approx) | Chapter 2

A/N:  Fits between my illicit affairs and no choir. I have a story for Thorn in this timeline and I'm working on one for Thire, so Stone needs one too so I can fill in some gaps.

Story Summary: In the wake of Thorn’s death, Commander Stone is the only thing holding the Coruscant Guard together. Thire is adjusting to a role he’d never expected to fill, and Fox- Fox has fallen for a certain senator from Pantora.

Stone’s hands smelled like blasterfire and bacta, the scent so strong that he could smell it through the apparatus in his helmet that filtered the air he breathed. He himself was physically untouched, but the sight of Fox, motionless and in pain on the museum floor, had unsettled him. Fox was not in the clear yet. The first shot had burned between his shoulder blades and any damage to his spine had not yet been assessed, it couldn’t be until he was removed from the bacta tank and conscious. Stone knew that he would be fine. He’d will it into existence if he had to. Fox had cursed in pain at Stone when he had applied the emergency bacta kit he kept in his belt to the wound at Fox’s waist. That meant that there was no spinal damage, right? Stone refused to think of Fox being decommissioned. He would not lose another commander so soon. Thire could not lose another mentor so soon.

The two troopers at the door saluted him before one punched in the passcode without hesitation. Senator Chuchi was upon him the moment he stepped inside. “Is Commander Fox okay?”

Commander Stone took a moment to collect himself, glancing deeper into the safehouse to make eye contact with Thire, sitting uncertainly on a couch opposite where the senator had sat before Stone’s intrusion, before turning back to Chuchi. “They’ve got him in a bacta tank, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until he wakes.” He turned his body to face Thire. “Commander, have you assigned a detail to this building?”

“Yes, sir.”

Stone bit back the urge to tell Thire to drop the ‘sir’ when he addressed him. Now was not the time. “Then go back to the barracks. Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

If Thire had any protests, they were not voiced. He rose from the couch and with a polite nod to Chuchi took his leave from the apartment.

Stone waited until the door had closed to speak again. “Are you comfortable, Senator Chuchi?”

“I do not believe that my own personal comfort matters, Commander Stone.” She drew herself together and glared directly into his visor. “It is my duty, according to Commander Thire, to let you and your brothers lay down their lives for me. I will not be comfortable until I see Commander Fox make a full recovery.”

“Then you may never be comfortable again.” Stone cringed a little under his helmet at the sudden change in the senator’s demeanor when she drew in on herself and refused to meet his gaze. This was why he had always left dealing with the senators to Thorn, now Thire. He would have to offer her some vulnerability. He sighed and removed his helmet, allowing his brow to settle into a look of concern. “My apologies, Senator Chuchi, I’m worried for him too, but there’s nothing we can do to help him now.”

“I know, Commander, I do. But I cannot help but feel responsible for his injury.”

“Fox would let himself get shot for fun.” And because he had a death wish as of late, but the senator didn’t need to know that. “This isn’t your fault, Senator.”

She nodded sadly; Stone didn’t think that she had believed him. “Thank you for your assurances, Commander Stone. I would like to retire now. I suppose that I shall see you in the morning?”

“Yes, ma’am. I will escort you to your office tomorrow. From there, Thire is preparing a detail to accompany you throughout your day.”

“Please give my thanks to Commander Thire tomorrow. I am afraid I may have been harsh with him this past hour.”

“We are used to far worse, Senator. But I will pass it on. Let us know if you need anything tonight.”

“Thank you, Commander Stone.” She drew herself together once more before stepping away from him and departing to the bedroom. A clean pair of bedclothes would be waiting for her there, as well as the basic amenities needed to sustain a healthy being of any species. It was very unlikely that she would want for anything. Still, Thorn had told Stone enough stories of the desires of senators that Stone had been prepared for the worst. But the night was young, so Stone put on a pot of caf and settled down onto the couch where Thire had been sitting. Plenty of things could still go wrong.

---

“I have a lead.”

“You’re going to have narcolepsy if you keep this up.”

“And you’re going to get addicted to spice if you keep drinking so much caf. We can play the false equivalences game all day.”

Thire’s likeness to Thorn unnerved Stone on the best of days. He often wondered if that resolve was what Thorn had seen in the then-lieutenant that caused him to single Thire out for promotion. Today, the suicidal drive for justice was no exception. “Then let’s play a new one. In your state, you are going to die if you track this down by yourself. Take a squad; your squad, my squad, Fox’s squad, I don’t care. Take one.”

Thire shook his head, the shadows moving across his face only serving to highlight the dark hollows under his eyes. “Then the bounty hunter will see us coming and we will lose our chance. If not for Fox’s sake, then for Senator Chuchi’s. This bounty hunter will be our best chance at finding out who wants her dead. This is our job, Stone, this is my job. Let me do it.”

“Thire.”

“Stone. This is my duty. Let me carry it out.”

Stone shook his head and sighed. “Fine.” Senator Chuchi’s words from the night before came back to him. It was her duty to let him and his brothers lay down their lives for her. It was their duty to die. “Where did your lead come from?”

“The Chancellor.”

And Stone couldn’t argue with that. “Be safe, Thire.”

Thire nodded and stood from the seat opposite Stone where he had been lounging. “You know me, sir.”

“My name isn’t sir. But I do know you, and that’s the problem.”

Thire shrugged. “I have a good feeling about this one. Stone.” Then he was gone.

Stone waited a few heartbeats for Thire to cross the office space before he rose from his own chair and stepped out into the main office area. Glancing around at what was being displayed on the monitors, he found his target quickly enough.

“Bravo.”

His brother jumped at the sudden presence behind him, quickly clicking back to the security tapes from the Galactic Museum. “Sir, I can explain.”

“The tapes are kriffing boring. I know. I’ll get someone else to look them over if you do me a favor.”

Bravo relaxed, letting a loose smile settle over his features. “Respectfully, anything to get out of this, sir.”

Stone nodded in understanding. “I want you to trail Commander Thire. If he engages anyone, I want you to be there in case he needs backup. Do not engage otherwise.”

“I’m on it.” Bravo could almost give Sergeant Hound’s massiff, Grizzer, a run for her credits when it came to tracking. He had come a long way from Geonosis, when he and Stone had limped out of the rubble kicked up by the falling Lucrehulks together.

“Thank you, Bravo.”

Thire would be pissed at Stone when he found out.

Thire was absolutely pissed at Stone when he found out.

“I had everything under control!” Thire would have slammed his trigger hand on Stone’s desk if it weren’t in a sling.

“You almost died!”

“You don’t know that! She was stunned, it was already over. If you hadn’t made Bravo intervene-.”

“She could have recovered by the time you dragged your sorry ass over there! Thire, I can’t-.” Stone brought his hand to his face and took in a deep breath. Yelling wouldn’t make the situation any better. “Thire, there is still a very real possibility that Fox may die and I can’t- I can’t do this alone. Just stay alive, Thire. For Thorn.”

Thire’s face twisted into a grimace of pain and he closed his eyes. “He would be so ashamed of me.”

“No. He would have never been ashamed of you, Thire.” Stone reached over the desk and placed his hand on Thire’s shoulder, gently squeezing it. “He was so, so proud of you.”

Thire sighed and brought a hand to the bacta patch on his bicep. “Does the pain ever go away?”

Stone knew he wasn’t talking about the injury. “Some days. Others, it hurts worse than it did before. We all have the nightmares, Thire.” Two years later, Stone still begged for Aurra Sing to show Ponds mercy in his dreams. The once sparring partners had rarely had time to talk after Geonosis, but his absence had torn a hole in Stone’s heart. “Thorn used to say that the commanders of the Coruscant Guard are cursed. Maybe we are.”

“Give our track records, I’m inclined to agree.” Thire sighed again before his attention was caught by the blinking comm on his wrist. “That’s the Chancellor. I need to go.”

“I understand.” Stone watched Thire rise painfully from his seat. “Thire? We wanted you to know, on the books you made the arrest. You were the highest-ranking officer on scene, and you did do everything but cuff her. You can leave that part out when you brief the Chancellor.”

“I don’t deserve-.”

“Thire.” Stone snapped before softening his voice. “Go easy on yourself.”

“Thank you, Stone.” Thire stepped towards the door to Stone’s office before pausing and turning back to him. “Sir- Stone, I have put together a few security details for Senator Chuchi for your approval. There’s just one issue. I believe the most effective guard would be one where one of our men stays inside the senator’s residence with her. Given the capacity we are running at with the loss of my squad on Scipio and our current assignments, we have no available men who have been trained for intimate guard. Given that Senator Chuchi is a woman, I fear that an untrained guardsman would be too much of an intrusion.”

“What about Jek or Impulse? They were on her security detail at the gala, she’s already acquainted with them. She knows most of us by name, I think that she would feel comfortable with nearly any-.”

“I want to put Fox in.”

Stone’s lips moved to form Fox’s name, though no sound came out. He remembered a time a few months ago, when Thorn was telling him over getting dressed that Senator Chuchi reminded him of Fox. Thire hadn’t been there for that conversation, but Stone hadn’t been privy to all of Thorn’s conversations and it made him wonder what he and Thire had discussed concerning his commanding officer and the senator. “Why?”

“You should have seen her, Stone, right after he was shot. She was heartbroken. From my observations, I think that he’s endeared himself to her. Besides, it will give Fox a few days to kick back and catch up on flimsiwork. He’s going to be hurting, and you know that they won’t give him adequate time to recover. They never do.”

“I will advise Senator Chuchi on the matter. Thank you, Thire.”

---

Senator Chuchi was on her feet the moment Stone entered her office. “Are you to accompany me home, Commander Stone?”

“I am afraid not, ma’am. Your apartment is not yet secure, I will be taking you back to the safehouse.”

“And what of Commander Fox?” She had yet to move from her spot beside the desk.

“I received word on my way here that they will be taking him out of bacta tomorrow if there are no obvious signs of permanent injury. If he is disabled, Senator, I’m afraid he will be retired.”

Senator Chuchi nodded and grabbed a small bag from a hook on the side of her desk. “Thank you for informing me, Commander Stone.”

She didn’t know what he had meant by retire. Stone decided that he would not be the one to inform her that the word was a death sentence for clones. He waited for her to cross the room while he found the words to avoid the topic. “If he is not retired, Commander Thire suggested that he lead your security detail from inside your residence.”

Senator Chuchi tilted her head up at him. “That is not standard operating procedure, is it?”

“No, Senator. But I must tell you in confidence, we are understaffed for senatorial detail at the moment. Commander Fox is the only unassigned man with the training required. If you are not comfortable with his presence, there are other men who we can assign.”

“No. I would be perfectly comfortable with the presence of Commander Fox. But thank you, for your concern. I heard that Commander Thire has captured the bounty hunter who tried to assassinate me?”

“Yes, he did. He is briefing the Chancellor on them now. Whoever wants to kill you will be caught soon.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Commander Stone, for your confidence.”

Once again, he didn’t have the heart to tell her how many lies and half-truths had lined their conversation. Instead, he nodded and fell into step at her side to escort her back to the safehouse.

[inkykeiji]

hi clari!! its been a hot min since ive really anon’d for a lot of people lmao but i’m on bc i’m not sure i ever thanked you for your relationship that you gave me?? maybe i did, but it just helped relieve so much weight off my chest and inspired me to move forward with a better mindset on relationships and myself.

i read what you were going through in response to another anon and i just sfjslfs kin you a little in terms of anxiety right now haha.

but i just wanted to say i believe in you and your resilience. i hope you manage to collect many moments of brief reprieve, and of joy, and of little (big) happinesses while you work and go towards everything being better and everything being okay. i adore you so much and think about you, kind of at least weekly lmao. just a brief “hows clari doing?” and will pop in briefly but having the strength to anon has been hard. but you have given so much light and love to others, you deserve light and love back because you are so precious and wonderful.

giving you the soul-equivalent of a forehead kith <3 mwuah . your heart radiates the best energy, and i know you already know & believe this, but ig i’m just here to say you have people on your side, should you wish them to be, to hold onto and to talk too should you want to <3

- 🦦

hello otter!!! <33

tw: anxiety talk below the cut!

heheh you did thank me!! but regardless, i’m still so so soooo happy to hear that it helped you feel better 🥺🥺 like genuinely SO glad to hear it <33 aw sweetpea i’m so proud of you for resolving to do that!!! i support you!!

AH okay prepare yourself for a slight rant because i just,, need to get it out somewhere!!

oh jesus otter honestly, you’re probably going to be my last ask of the night because i literally cannot concentrate anymore. i feel like i can’t breathe, i feel kind of like crying, and my mind is running a million miles a minute. and i’ve been feeling like this ALL DAY. i’ve been hyper-analyzing literally everything anyone says to me and i just,,,  my body HURTS from it (when i get really anxious i tense/clench my muscles). my jaw is so sore from being clenched for DAYS. i’m just so tired of feeling like this for several days on end, and i too hope i can find moments of reprieve that’s really all i have to say about it, i guess. i have no idea where this is paragraph is going anymore hahaha sorry i just went off on an emotional tangent in your ask!!

i’m so, so sorry you’re going through something similar my sweet otter :( i truly hope you too find many instances of happiness and calm as well <33 you telling me that you think about me weekly just brought tears to my eyes hahaha i just...thank you, so much, for sharing that with me. it’s comforting to know that there’s someone so sweet and so special looking out for me and keeping me in their thoughts.

i think about you as well, to be honest!!! i think about all of my emoji anons especially when they disappear for extended periods of time, just a little ‘ah, i hope they’re doing well and everything is okay’ yk?? of course we all have lives, and people grow into and out of fandoms etc, but the thought definitely crosses my mind!

don’t worry bb, don’t worry about anoning at all. i’ll be here for when you’re feeling better. you owe me nothing, not interaction or explanations, so please do not ever feel obligated!!! i just want you safe and happy! and i genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, appreciate all that you do for me, please know that <3

ah otter thank you so much for ending your ask with such kind, beautiful words. i appreciate the reminder so much, and i love u!!! i hope we both begin to feel better soon <33

[jackdaniel69nice]

A Hero is Born

Description: Lilly needs to talk to Wu about an important decision

~~~

Lilly walked up the steps of the home of the First Spinjitzu Master. She has been here before in passing of course but never stayed long enough to familiarize herself with this place. It had been standing for centuries, perhaps even since the very beginning of time, and the end of it. It was well kept she noted as she determinedly pried open the gates. But today she wasn’t here for the scenery.

Garmadon was outside training, a peculiar sight, he had deteriorated after she disappeared, spending most of his time away searching, just as she has been. Has he given up looking like the others? He stopped to stare at her as she walked forward with purpose.  She would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous.

“Where’s Wu?” She asked calmly, but sternly. Glowing red eyes stared back at her as they stood. She still found it hard to forgive him for working under Chen, and what that had done to her personally. They didn’t so much get along but after a pause he jerked his head towards the door.

“Mediating” He answered simply and resumed his assault of the training grounds. She continued onward.

Lilly found him in his private room. A strange smoke filled the secluded space and he sat folded before a group of incense. He breathed deeply seemingly unaware of her intrusion in his withdrawn state.

“Wu, we need to talk.” His eyes flew open and he coughed aggressively, losing his concentration. He looked at her through teary eyes and waved her off, she rolled her eyes. Once he had gained his composure, he gestured for her to sit and she complied.

“I am sorry for that Lilly, this is spirit smoke, a new technique I am trying to master. It is giving me quite a bit of difficulty,” He explained.

“It’s quite all right Wu.” She could sympathize with his plight.

“Now please, tell me what it is you need. Is there any news as to Libber’s whereabouts?” Despite his ever-growing older eyes, there was a hopeful shine within them. 

She smiled sadly looking away. “Unfortunately, not,” and even without seeing she could feel him deflate a little.

But just as quickly he seemed to perk up again. “Oh…well that is alright, I am sure we will receive information soon. This wouldn’t be the first time she went off the radar.” She nodded in agreement smiling for real just a little. Sometimes it felt like they were the only ones who still believed years later. Even Cliff, who spent all his time searching, had isolated himself and not spoken to them in months.

“I hope everything is well for you, Cole is almost 3 now correct?” He had pulled out a teapot from seemingly nowhere (sneaky ninja) and was proceeding to poor her a cup.

“Yes, he is, but-and I hope you don’t my bluntness-that is not what I came to speak to you about.” He handed her the cup and swiftly readied his own.

“I see, getting straight to the point then, and I was so hoping for a little chat.” He grinned playfully from behind his teacup. Nodding at her to continue.

She took a deep breath preparing herself. 

“I suppose in a way this does have to do with…her. In Libber’s absence crime has escalated in Ninjago, that much is obvious. With Mya and Ray being retired and White traveling there has been no one left to protect Ninjago. I suppose what I have to ask is very upfront but if you will allow me…I’d like to help lift that burden.”

“You want to become a ninja?” He questioned, raising a brow.

“Until she returns, yes”

“I’m not so sure…you already have a family to care for yourself and with your health Lilly I don’t think it’s safe to-“

“Please Wu, I beg of you, just give me a chance. I know the dangers; I’ve thought long about this. I know this is what she would want.”

“Lilly I need you to understand I can’t allow you take that risk”

“I am the master of earth, one of the elements of creation, I cannot sit idle any longer and watch the people I care about fall because I was not strong enough to do anything about it. Please…” She looked at him, eyes full of resolve and pain.

“let me protect the family I have left”

Wu didn’t speak for a moment, contemplating. 

“…alright”

“Really!” 

He nodded. “If this is really what you want then I will assist in any way I can”

“Oh, thank you Wu! You won’t regret it!” She took his hands for a moment then released them pulling back. 

“From now on you will address me as Master. Be here at sunrise tomorrow, we will see what you can do.”

“Yes, Master Wu” She bowed hurriedly and walked out, but Wu caught her before she could go.

“This is a very big responsibly you are taking on Lilly, if at any time you wish to stop the option is available to you”

“That won’t be necessary,” She smirked.

“…She would be proud of you, you know”

Lilly didn’t answer but nodded understanding and made her way out of the monastery. 

She had work to do.

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

I witnessed the most insane but satisfying arrest last night.

While The Spawn & I were opossum watching, we heard a man go into the neighbors' backyard & start pounding on what we thought was the sliding glass door yelling. Then we heard it break, heard more yelling & shit breaking inside.

(For reference, we live in a townhouse so we aren't nosy, the yards are connected. Their middle school aged kids frequently tell our dogs to shut up, which is fair.)

While we are in shock, debating what to do, we hear more yelling, a woman sobbing, then she yells that she's calling the cops & has everything "on video this time!" Ok. We decide I'm going out front to chat with cops when they arrive.

By the time I'm out front, 3 police SUVs are already on scene & they have a white dude on the curb that they are talking to. I overhear that this dude's name is... Kyle. Fitting. I also overhear that how he 'was raised is that women should know their place.'

B R O. This ain't the 1950s. Slow your fucking role.

So I awkwardly get the officer's attention & ask if I can speak with him. He says he will be over in a minute, so I let him know I'll be on my porch. I hear him introduce Kyle to 'the lead investigator for this incident' & explain that's he's going to probably ask a lot of the same questions but he needs to answer them.

Officer walks over & I let him know what we heard. He says "Yeah that's what we are hearing from both parties. He broke the window pounding on it, again. He's pretty drunk. Thank you for your help though."

Note: a few months back, this neighbor came to me asking if we'd had break in attempts (never in the time we've lived here because of our proximity to a busy street) because a window in her backyard was smashed out. We discussed the cameras I have for the garden due to vandalism. Turns out, that was our man Kyle. Fun.

So I go inside, but they are right by my window. These cops are trying SO hard to give this dude a break. At one point they even tell him they are 'trying to give some leeway here' but dude isn't having it. Some highlights:

Cops: "Do you have a history of violent acts?" Kyle: "Yeah. I've been kicked out of or banned from some places." Cop: "You ever think about getting some help & talking to somebody about that?" Kyle: "No. I was raised that you handle your own shit & don't take disrespect." (Newsflash Kyle: you are NOT handling your shit.)

Cops tell him he cannot go back in the house that night or until the matter is resolved & ask if there's someone they can call to come get him. Kyle doesn't like this. Kyle's brilliant response? "Am I being charged with anything? If not I'm going inside. You can't stop me if you're not charging me." The cops sigh heavily & tell him that it doesn't work like that.

The cops genuinely try to work with Kyle, despite him being actively a pain in the ass who believes he's done nothing to deserve an hour long chat with the officers without shoes on sitting on the curb.

That's right. They tried for AN HOUR.

After they realize he's not going to leave, an officer says, "Ok you wait right here." Kyle in his brilliant stupor says "Oh you calling for backup bro? Go on! Call for backup! They can see you holding me for no reason other than trying to get in my house." (Spoiler: Kyle doesn't live there.) The cop, still cool with a conversational tone, says "No, I'm not calling backup. We're good. Just give me a sec." And leaves him with the investigator.

When he comes back he says, "I need you to stand up & put your hands behind your back." Does Kyle cooperate? He hasn't thus far, why start now? Instead he says "No. You're not arresting me. I'm not going to jail." I hear the officer audibly chuckle before saying: "I am & you are. Stand up & put your hands behind your back."

I guess Kyle complied because they were telling him how they were going to walk him to the car. They asked if he wanted shoes. Oppositional to the bitter end, Kyle says, "No I don't need fucking shoes and I don't need to go to jail for entering my house." The officers just said, "Ok, Kyle." Then loaded him up & drove off.

And thus ends the tale of Kyle, who is a credit to his name.

Also, our police force locally has done a massive overhaul & huge amounts of training over the last 1.5 to 2 yrs.

Example:

The other night there was a man at the park who looked like he was having a psychotic episode similar to what I've seen my mom have & seen in a clinical setting. No shirt, no shoes, writhing & flailing & chatting with himself. He was directly in front of the bathrooms but wasn't at all aggressive to anyone who walked by or spoke to him. He even chatted back, although it was the word salad that I tend to associate with a schizophrenic psychotic episode.

They came out and calmly talked to him & over the course of an hour convinced him to get into an ambulance. He hadn't wanted to go to the hospital when his symptoms started because he didn't have someone to care for his small dog, who was with him. One of the officers promised to care for the pet while he was away & that she would have it when he got healthy enough to come back home.

I can tell you that about 7-10 yrs ago, he would have been presumed to be on drugs & arrested while not being treated kindly. The overhaul came about from an incident involving a college student who had multiple people in his life call wellness checks on him because they could tell something wasn't right with his mental health. Within a week it escalated to him wandering the student off campus housing complex he lived in with a massive kitchen knife. The incident ended with him being shot.

His family, friends, & a huge amount of the community was outraged & demanded that our PD do better. They made the excellent point that with our massive student population and the average age of most mental illnesses emerging, our PD needs extensive mental health crisis training & better de-escalation skills. A ton of officers who basically said 'fuck that' got replaced.

Never thought I'd be proud of our PD but here we are.

(Kyle absolutely deserved to be arrested & they gave him FAR more chances to cooperate than I would have but... I'm a domestic abuse survivor so... bias.)