#floor deal india

[knuppitalism-with-ue]

In the depth of the central lake the floor of this enormous body of water gets next to no light from the surface. Here a drastically different ecosystem thrives. We call it the worm zone, for it's diversity of large worms that lives of the carrion from above, bacterial lawns and small living prey items. Many species down here are endemic, but certain species are making migrations to the surface at night or visit on deep dives.

On Lemuria

Lemuria is a new spec evo project for and by the #paleostream community. Like the Atlantis project beforehand it deals with a fictional piece of land in 3 phases. Lemuria is an already existent concept that was invented before the recognition of plate tectonics to explain certain distribution patterns of animals and plants. In our case Lemuria is a continent consisting of India and Madagascar. We speculate how animals and plants would evolve if these two would never separate. This has MANY consequences. And the further we progress through time the more natural history will change. Phase one deals with the Cretaceous, when things are still rather "normal".

[kokoch4n3l]

˗ˏˋ ve kamleya ࿐ྂ "if you want to do something, go fall in love. fulfill your stubborn wish for once"

summary: in which during a deal with overseas businessmen, bonten finds out about your shitty ex from high school

pairing(s): slight bonten x desi!oc, implied mikey x desi!oc

notes: oc is punjabi cuz I said so and this is also kind of a self-insert so... title from my fav hindi song ve kamleya, the video has eng subs btw. dividers by cafekitsune

warnings: dark content 18+, canon typical violence, drug-related business(opium), drug trafficking, slight misogyny, implied/referenced ptsd, past abusive relationship, mean!manjiro, slight insensitivity, blood and gore, implied torture, implied murder, suggestive themes

word count: 3770

The smoky haze of the dimly lit room hung heavy, casting shadows that danced across the faces of the assembled men. Sano Manjiro, the imposing leader of the Bonten gang, sat at the head of the table, his steely gaze surveying the room with a mixture of authority and calm. Around him sat his trusted lieutenants, each one a force to be reckoned with in their own right. The only woman among them, commanded the attention of the room as she rose to address their guests once again after hours of debate. After all, Sano Manjiro trusted no one else to get this deal done. “I understand the… demand, for opium up in the north of India but you should also know we aren’t lowering our price either” She says in English, tone gentle yet somehow firm at the same time 

Her words hung in the air, a subtle reminder of the strength of their position in the negotiations. The guests shifted uncomfortably, keenly aware of the delicate balance of power at play. "We are prepared to meet your needs," she continued in the same language, her gaze steady. "But it must be on terms that are mutually beneficial."

One man clears his throat and speaks up finally. “You must understand Miss, we have no deficiency of suppliers, especially for opium,” The man says in English with a slight accent behind it as he casually adjusts his gold rings “The stuff from Japan is a lot higher in quality which is why we’re here doing this deal anyway. But we—”

“Because it is a lot higher in quality we cannot lower our price” She interjects with a calm smile “You know, labour costs and all” 

The man's expression tightened, his gaze flickering between her and Sano Manjiro as if weighing his options. Behind him, his companions exchanged cautious glances, sensing the tension in the air. "We understand your position," the man replied finally, his tone conceding to the reality of the situation. "But surely there's room for negotiation."

Her smile remained fixed, though her eyes betrayed no hint of compromise. "Of course, negotiations are always possible," she conceded her voice like velvet over steel. "But we must be clear on one thing: our price reflects not just the quality of our product, but the risks we undertake to supply it."

Akashi Takeomi, silent until now, leaned forward slightly. "Our operations are not without their challenges," he added, his voice low back in the same language, his accent a lot thicker than hers "But for the right partners, we are willing to mitigate those risks."

The men turn to each other and start conversing in another language and at the same time, she quietly translates to Takeomi exactly what they’re saying back in Japanese. She eyes Manjiro who’s standing in front of the large floor-to-ceiling windows of the meeting room. It looked like he was zoned out, staring at the skyline of Tokyo but she and the rest of Bonten knew better than to think that. He was listening alright, even when it didn’t look like he was. The rest were just leaning back in their chairs, bored from the constant debate. “Say, Miss…” One of the men, probably the youngest, says in English with a prominent American accent “I hear you’re from India too. What state?”

She raises her brow at the question but responds anyway. “Punjab”

The other men seem to get excited at her answer. Of course, they would. After all, what language were they speaking this entire time to each other? “Really? I knew I recognized that nose from somewhere” One man switches to Punjabi when addressing her “Women from the north are known for being beautiful. I should have known you were from there”

His change of tone catches Manjiro’s attention and he finally, since the beginning of this meeting, turns to look at the businessmen. He obviously didn’t understand what they said but his instincts were something even the executives were afraid of so she won’t doubt that he had gotten the gist of what had been said. She shifts in her seat, Takeomi and the rest of Bonten looking at her curiously. “As much as I appreciate the flattery, we still aren’t lowering our price” She replies calmly in English, knowing replying back in Punjabi would no doubt make Manjiro aggravated as he liked to know what she was saying at all times

The businessmen exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Behind them, Sano Manjiro remained silent, his gaze now fixed on her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. She knew that he was listening, that every word spoken in his presence was carefully scrutinized for any hint of deception or weakness. The youngest of the group seemed unfazed by her response, pressing on with his attempts at charm. "Come on, sweetheart," he said, an American accent thick even when speaking in Punjabi, with arrogance. "Surely we can come to some sort of arrangement."

Her smile tightened, a glimmer of steel beneath her gentle facade. "I'm afraid not," she replied in English, her tone cool and final. "Our price is non-negotiable."

The tension in the room was palpable, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken threats. It’s just then the door of the meeting room opens revealing a new face. “Sorry I’m late, traffic in Tokyo is—”

Manjiro waves the newcomer off. He was obviously with the other businessmen. The other executives are annoyed as hell with the lateness, after all the meeting had been going on for hours already, but don’t mention it as they’re tired. But that’s when Manjiro notices his only female executive has gone still. She’s frozen which is extremely uncharacteristic of her and it worries him. So he does the first thing that comes to mind. “How about we take a break.” He says, voice low and everyone knows it’s not an offer but a command

Manjiro headed for the door of the meeting room and his executives followed behind, Takeomi having to literally drag her to stand at one point. They’re in the elevator. Manjiro eyes her as she removes her red-bottomed heels from her feet, sighing in relief. The elevator is going up to the top floor. “Any weaknesses so far?” Kakucho asks, his voice breaking the silence

“Punctuality apparently” Ran mutters in annoyance 

They all look toward her, wondering what she had to say but instead, she’s silent, holding her heels in one hand, leaning against the elevator wall looking very out of breath. Rindo snaps his fingers in front of her face. “Dude” he says

“Hm?” she looks up at him, uncharacteristically dazed

Usually, she would have snapped at him, kicked Rindo in the shin or threatened to stab him with her heels but no, she didn’t. It was… concerning. Her uncharacteristic behaviour caught everyone’s attention. She isn’t usually like this— quiet, dazed and unconfident. No one is sure what to say, not even Kakucho who was Bonten’s collective impulse control and unlicenced and unpaid therapist. The elevator reaches the top floor and they file out of the elevator, into the private lounge. They watch in silence as she sits on the long circular-shaped couch, her heels dropped carelessly to the floor as she puts her hair up, revealing the hanafuda full moon tattoo on the back of her neck— on the same location as Manjiro has his. Manjiro takes a seat next to her and the rest sit on the couch too, staring. She looks at them, narrowing her eyes a bit. “What?”

“We should be asking you that” Mochi says as he lights himself a cigarette 

Her gaze lingered on each member of Bonten in turn, her expression inscrutable, as if weighing her words carefully before speaking. The tension in the room tightened like a taut wire, anticipation thrumming through the air. "I'm fine," she finally replied, her tone clipped, though the strain in her voice was evident to those who knew her well. "Too many languages just making my head hurt"

The response did little to ease the unease that had settled over the group like a heavy fog. They had seen her weather countless storms with unyielding resolve, her strength a pillar upon which they had come to rely. But now, faced with her uncharacteristic vulnerability, they found themselves at a loss for how to proceed. Manjiro studied her carefully, his keen eyes searching for any sign of deception or weakness. He knew her better than anyone and understood the walls she erected to shield herself from the world. But beneath the facade of stoicism, he sensed a flicker of genuine concern, a vulnerability she had never shown before. “Nah uh,” Sanzu says rolling his eyes “You started being all weird when the motherfucker who doesn’t know how to be on time showed up”

She shifts uncomfortably. It seems Sanzu’s observation was a hit. Her discomfort was palpable, her usual confidence shaken by the blunt observation. She shifted in her seat, a flicker of uncertainty betraying her stoic facade. The others watched her closely, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity, unsure of how to proceed. Sanzu's words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the tension that had simmered beneath the surface since the newcomer's arrival. She felt the weight of their expectations bearing down on her, the pressure to maintain her composure in the face of mounting scrutiny. "I..." She began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. 

She couldn’t find an excuse. But even as she stayed silent, she could feel the disapproving stares of her companions, their silent judgment weighing heavily upon her. Manjiro, ever the astute leader, sensed her distress and moved to intervene. "Enough," he declared, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "This conversation is over."

His authoritative tone brooked no argument, and the others fell silent, their eyes darting between her and their leader. “Go back to the meeting the rest of you��

Rest of you meaning, everyone leave and Manjiro and her stay. Without a word, the others rose from their seats, casting one last glance at her before filing out of the room. As the door closed behind them, a heavy silence descended, leaving only Manjiro and her alone in the private lounge. Manjiro looks at her, black eyes a bottomless pit of nothing. “What’s wrong?” He asks

There was no room for reflecting on his question. Manjiro was direct and needed answers as to why his best negotiator had suddenly frozen up in the midst of a deal. “You know him” It wasn’t a question this time but an observation

Manjiro understood the intricacies of their world better than anyone, and he knew the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of even the most seemingly innocuous interactions. The newcomer's presence had disrupted the delicate balance of power, setting off alarm bells in her mind that she couldn't ignore. “I um… I…” She isn’t able to get her words out

He gives her a look. “Tell me” It’s a command

She shifts uncomfortably. She fiddles with her white gold rings, they glimmer under the artificial lighting. “That’s my ex…”

Manjiro raises a brow. Her admission hung heavy in the air, the weight of her revelation settling like a leaden cloak upon them both. Manjiro's expression remained unreadable, though a flicker of concern danced in the depths of his obsidian eyes. "Your ex…" he repeated, his voice betraying no emotion.

She nodded, her throat constricting with the weight of unspoken memories and unresolved emotions. She had hoped to keep her past firmly buried in the depths of her mind, but now, confronted with Manjiro's unwavering gaze, she found herself unable to hide the truth any longer. "He... he wasn't supposed to be here," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought... I thought I could handle it, but..."

Her words trailed off, lost in the suffocating silence that enveloped them. She could feel the weight of Manjiro's scrutiny bearing down upon her, his gaze penetrating as he searched for some semblance of understanding in her haunted eyes. “And what did he do for my best negotiator to react like a psychiatric patient just at the sight of him?”

She shifts again but this time he holds her thigh to stop her from moving. There was no getting out of this conversation. Manjiro always got what he wanted and right now he wanted answers. “I… I dated him in high school”

It’s been years. She knows Manjiro is gonna belittle her for being this way over something that ended years ago but… She spills. She tries her best to tell him vaguely what happened— trying to be as vague as possible but Manjiro just keeps asking for more details. He wanted to know everything and once he was satisfied he pulled out his phone and typed something then threw it carelessly on the table. “Is that why you don’t date or sleep around like the others do?” He asks bluntly “Because of what he did?”

Manjiro looked angry. It was odd seeing an actual emotion in his eyes for once even if it was anger. She gulps. Oh man did she hate her stupid ex right now. It had been years since they broke up or well, since she forced the break up because he refused to let her leave. That stupid asshole traumatized her so badly that now even though she was an executive for Japan’s most ruthless and dangerous gang, he made her want to throw up from fear. “I’m sorry—”

“Shut up” Manjiro says lowly but she keeps going

“No, it was extremely unprofessional and I shouldn’t let my personal feelings come in the middle of work—”

He cuts her off again, grabbing her face and squeezing her cheeks together. Her lips jut out a bit from the action. The tips of Manjiro’s fingers dig into her cheeks and her skin warms under his touch, turning the most endearing shade of pink he’s ever seen. “And what exactly are you apologizing for?” Manjiro mutters looking annoyed

She thinks he might just shoot her, empty his Glock out in her head and get Sanzu or Koko to call the cleaners to get rid of her body and turn her into fishbait. “F-For fucking up the deal…” She tries saying as he squeezes her face tighter with the tips of his fingers

Manjiro chuckles and it has to be one of the scariest things she’s heard in her life. “Wrong. Apologize for dating such an ugly little bitch”

“... huh?”

She thinks she’s hearing things. “You heard me,” Manjiro says nonchalantly “apologize” 

Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to comprehend the meaning behind his words. Was this some twisted form of punishment? Or was there something else, something more insidious, at play here? With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, She realized that she was treading dangerous waters, her every move scrutinized by the man before her. And as she searched his eyes for some semblance of understanding, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his demand than met the eye. Sanzu and Rindo often joked that she got away with a lot of things and Manjiro was the most lenient with her. Was Manjiro finally giving her the punishment she deserved for all the other times she fucked up? Oh man, no way she was going to die because of her stupid bitch ass ex. “Hey” He says snapping her out of her thoughts

She looks at him. “The deal is off. I don’t want it to go through anyway”

Her eyes widen at his words. “Wait w-what—”

But Manjiro's expression remained impassive, his gaze unwavering as he met her eyes. There was a hardness in his stare, a determination that sent a shiver down her spine. "I said the deal is off," he repeated, his tone firm.

Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of Manjiro's decision. Was this punishment for her perceived failure? Or was there something else at play, something she couldn't quite grasp? As she searched his eyes for some clue, some hint of understanding, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Manjiro's actions than met the eye. Manjiro's gaze held a steely resolve as she struggled to comprehend his abrupt decision. The implications of the deal falling through reverberated through the room, casting a shadow over their carefully laid plans. But beneath the surface, she sensed a tension, a hidden undercurrent that hinted at something deeper. "Why?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion and a hint of desperation. "Why cancel the deal?"

Manjiro's expression softened ever so slightly, a flicker of something akin to regret in his eyes. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, one that sent a jolt of uncertainty coursing through her veins. "Because some things are more important than business," Manjiro replied, his voice low and measured.

Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of his cryptic words. What could be more important than securing Bonten's position in the underworld? What could possibly justify throwing away the opportunity they had worked so hard to achieve? But before she can speak, he lets go of her face and his hand slides to the back of her neck, the tips of his fingers now digging into her— his— tattoo. Almost as if he could read her mind he asks, “Are you questioning my authority?”

She doesn’t dare move away from him or shake her no to answer him. Manjiro didn’t like being answered with gestures, he preferred words. “N-No…”

“Good” he says 

Manjiro's hand lingered on the back of her neck, his touch was both possessive and unsettling. She could feel the weight of his gaze upon her, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. His nails slightly dig into the knobs of her spine, right on the tattoo. It doesn’t hurt but it feels hot. One thing Manjiro often reminded her of is that Bonten was his. That included the executives and that especially included her. Her life belonged to him and he clearly wasn’t taking her being afraid of someone that wasn’t him very nicely. “You’re really gonna let a guy like that stop you from ever falling in love again?”

The question almost stopped her heart because it was not what she expected him to ask. She had never expected Manjiro to broach such a sensitive topic, let alone express concern for her romantic endeavours. But beneath the surprise, a flicker of something else stirred within her—a yearning for something more, something beyond the confines of Bonten's ruthless world. "I..." she faltered, her voice barely above a whisper. 

How could she explain the depths of her fear, the scars that her past had left upon her soul? How could she make him understand the tangled web of emotions that had kept her trapped in the shadow of her own memories? But before she could formulate a response, Manjiro's hand tightened on the back of her neck, his grip possessive yet strangely comforting. "You don't have to answer now," he said, his voice softer than before but it quickly went back to being harsh “I am disappointed though”

His hand holding her thigh comes up to hold her cheek now. She’s frozen, unsure of what to do. "How could my executive let a little bitch like that do that to her and not move on for years?" Manjiro's voice was low, his words cutting through the silence like a knife.

Her mind raced as she struggled to find the right words to say. How could she explain the depths of her pain, the scars that her past had left upon her soul? How could she make him understand the tangled web of emotions that had kept her trapped in the shadow of her own memories? But before she could formulate a response, Manjiro's thumb brushed against her cheekbone, his touch both intimate and unsettling. She felt a surge of vulnerability wash over her, a raw honesty that threatened to shatter the carefully constructed walls she had built around her heart. "I... I don't know," She finally whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I'm sorry..." 

Manjiro's grip on her cheek tightened, his touch both gentle and commanding. He held her gaze with an intensity that made her feel as though he could see straight through to her soul. "Sorry doesn't change the past," he murmured, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room.

She felt a knot form in her stomach at his words, a familiar sense of guilt and inadequacy washing over her. She had spent years trying to bury the pain of her past, to escape the memories that haunted her every waking moment. But now, confronted with Manjiro's unwavering gaze, she couldn't help but feel as though she had failed him in some fundamental way. "I know…" she replied softly, her voice barely audible above the sound of her own heartbeat.

Manjiro's thumb traced a slow, soothing pattern against her cheekbone, his touch a silent reassurance amidst the storm of emotions raging within her. Finally, after a long moment of silence, he speaks up “Fall in love again…”

His words are unexpected but she also makes no move to pull back from him. “Is that an order, Mr. Sano?”

Finally, Manjiro smiles. It’s genuine. Or at least it seems genuine. “Yes. Yes it is”

“Did you call the clean-up crew?” Ran asks Koko who’s cleaning the blood of his shoes

Koko nods wordlessly, a look of annoyance on his face as he had just bought these damn shoes yesterday. “Let’s go back up” Takeomi says as he lights a cigarette, stepping over a dead body of one of the businessmen

“Maybe not” Kakucho interjects as his eyes are on his phone, cheeks a little flushed

He shoves it into his pocket and shakes his head at his fellow colleagues. For a moment they’re silent until— “fuckin’ hell” Mochi grumbles as he transfers 10 thousand into Ran’s account

“See I fuckin’ told you he’d fuck her” Ran says with a shrug, eyes lighting up at the notification on his phone signalling the transfer had been made and completed

Their conversation is cut out with a loud scream as Sanzu stabs his katana through her ex’s chest. They look towards him and the pink-haired male simply shrugs. 

[featheredclover]

Orphic

Chapter Six

Read from the beginning

Also on Wattpad

Chapter Five> < Chapter Seven

Her fingers tightened the screw of her earring, stumbling at the last step, she stopped herself from crashing onto the floor.

The breakfast table was untouched.

“Where are they ?”

Sumi pursed her lips and cocked her head towards the living room.

Taken aback at this change in routine, Khushi tiptoed into the living room.

The TV blazed on. A stern looking reporter broke the news.

“Sources have claimed that the Raizada group is entrusting their latest venture of 12 luxury hotels across India to Rocky Khandelwal. While Mr Khandelwal is new to business, his clients say he brings a youthful aspect to his work-“

“Oh Shashi!” Her mummy’s despair broke through her shock.

“It’s okay Garima . These things happen in business.”

“But why not tell us if you are going to do whatever that corrupt son-in-law tells you to do?!”

“Well, family comes first for Rajiv. But yes it would have saved us a lot of time had he told us earlier. Even yesterday, he didn’t mention a word-“

Khushi felt a feeling of dread begin in the pit of her stomach.

Had she caused this? Had that lunch caused Arnav to tell his father that the Guptas were not worth the deal? Had she and her big mouth cost her papa crores?

“Khushi!” 

Her papa stood up, stunned at the tears in her eyes. 

“Come on Khushi, this is part of business “ he engulfed her in a hug. “ Disappointments are part of life beta, no need to cry over them “

“Khushi, “ her mum smiled. “Come,have breakfast. Let’s not fret anymore about this!”

————

Raizada Group

She stared at the imposing building. She wanted to take the day off. But with no excuse to give, she found herself driven by Hari Prakash to this swanky office.

She stepped into the air conditioned space, and took the elevator to the top floor.

Her desk brought back uncomfortable feelings from yesterday. She pushed them to the back of her mind and began to work.

By noon, she had called all the suppliers and arranged deliveries with the telephone Aman had lent her. Satisfied, she shut her notebook with a smile.

“Khushi” 

She looked up to see Arnav, walking towards her.

“Let’s have lunch? I know of this great Mexican restaura-“

“No!”

That infuriatingly handsome frown appeared between his brows again.

“What?Why?”

“I am done with today’s task. And I cannot begin without suppliers and workers.All of them will come here tomorrow. So I don’t think there’s any need for me to be here now.”

“Then I’ll drop you home after lunc-”

“My driver is down. Thank you, but there’s no need for you to do that Mr. Raizada”

His frown deepened.

“What’s going on Khushi?”

“Nothing, I wish to go home.”

“Stop it! The least I am asking you is to be honest with me!”

She stared as his eyes filled with anxiety.

No matter how embarrassed she felt, she couldn’t see him distressed.

“I am sorry for what I did yesterday. I overstepped a line and I just don’t want it to happen again.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Everything alright?”  Khushi had never been as glad to see Aman as she was now.

“Yes! I was just leaving Aman “

“The hell you are!”

“ASR!” Aman said, clearly astounded at seeing his boss lose his cool.

“In my office. Now,” Arnav gritted out in a low voice.

——————

She took a sip from the glass of water Arnav had poured for her.

“Now will you tell me what you were saying?” he ran a hand through his hair.

“I asked you yesterday. About…the hotel deal”

Understanding dawned on him.

“Um..Khushi that-“

“It’s fine!” She hastened to cut off his explanation “My papa said it’s part of business. You don’t have to explain”

“What?” 

It was her turn to frown. Why did this man appear more confused than before?

“The 12 hotels, which my papa wanted ... .Your father gave it to Rocky Khandelwal. I don’t know if it was because of what I blurted out at lunch..I didn’t mean to”

She finally looked up from her lap, and saw Arnav had shock painted across his face.

“No”

“Okay”she filled the silence awkwardly.

“Khushi I need to go now, I’ll see you later”

He grabbed his coat and rushed out leaving a flustered girl behind.

—————

“So….you are crazy about him but he sabotaged your dad?” Payal frowned.

The curling iron twisted around her locks with expertise and revealed a beautiful curl.

“Yes, that’s about it….” Khushi played with the frill on Payal’s duvet.

“Well, that isn’t surprising, you know! Everyone knows that Rocky supports Shyam Jha in elections. Half of his party’s funds are from the Khandelwals!”

Kicking off her heels, Khushi flopped on the bed.

Payal joined her.

“What is surprising is that Rajiv Raizada did that! They are actually not that kind of people”

Khushi’s face fell.

“It’s not your fault K! Arnav is a jerk if a simple question led him to give the contract to someone else!”

“He’s not a jerk.” she smiled sadly.

“God! That was quick!” Payal laughed.

“What?”

“How quickly you have fallen for him…” 

“I don’t think it's that, Payal, “ she sighed.

“Then why are you not angry with him Khushi? Why are you finding yourself giving excuses for him?”she persisted.

“Ufff! My head hurts”

“Come on then, let's go watch a movie!”

—————

Her wrist watch struck eight, as she hurried down the porch and rang the bell.

The door swung open and Garima greeted her with a broad smile. 

“Mummy? Everything alright?”

“We have company!”

“Why are you whispering?”

With a tug she pulled Khushi into the house.

She walked into the dining room, with her mum at her heels.

There under the beautiful chandelier, sat Mr Raizada and his son.

“Well Khushi, come on sit down” her papa pulled out a chair for her.

Confused and dazed, she plonked herself on the chair.

“So Khushi, how is the designing for Arnav going on?” Rajiv asked with a genuine smile.

“It’s going well Mr Raizada. I start the renovation tomorrow “

“Please beta, drop the formality! “

“Yes uncle” she muttered shyly.

“Arnav told me that you were designing a professional space for the first time?”

“Yes, but since it’s his personal office, it’s not that different “

“Khushi even designed my sister’s boutique, “ her mum chimed in proudly.

She took the chance to glance at Arnav, who had remained quiet so far. She could swear that she saw him smirk while chewing.

As the older folks chatted along, she kept looking at him, desperately wishing for mind reading abilities at that moment.

“Well, we’ll take our leave,” Rajiv uncle announced.

There amidst the clamour of chairs and fond smiles, Guptas bid the Raizadas goodbye.

“What is going on?!” Khushi screeched.

“We got the deal” her mummy bubbled up in excitement.

“They came to dinner for that?”

“It’s late Khushi” her papa loosened his tie “Go to your room now”

“Yes darling, it’s very late” With a kiss her mum followed her papa upstairs.

A girl left flustered! Again!

Tagging: @arshifiesta

-----------

Next chapter>>

@jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @muttonthings @hand-picked-star @msbhagirathi @phuljari @sankititaliya @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @laadgovernors @laadgovernorandsankadevi @leila1 @hi-this-is-permabanned @arshispyaar @minpdnim @thedustyshehnai @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill @exosexosekai @0218fm

[stephensmithuk]

The Sign of Four: The Strange Story of Jonathan Small (Part One of Two)

I will split this in two parts as I've got a lot to cover here.

CW for discussions of nasty prison conditions.

The depth of the Thames is about 6.5 metres at low tide in Woolwich, near to the Plumstead Marshes as they were then. However, the river has strong currents and very little visibility, so it would be a risky operation even with 2024 diving technology for some rather small objects.

The rupee originally was a silver coin dating back to ancient times in India, becoming something of a standard currency during the Mughal period. The East India Company introduced paper rupees and while there was an attempt by the British to move their territory to the pound sterling, they soon gave up, minting their own rupees with the British monarch's head on. The currency was also non-decimal. India retained the currency post-independence and went decimal as well.

Mangrove trees are very common in equatorial coastline regions - they can remove salt from the water, which would kill many other trees.

Prisoners set to the Andaman Islands penal colony were forced to work nine to ten hours a day to construct the new settlement, while in chains. Cuts from poisonous plants and friction ulcers from the chains would often get infected, resulting in death.

The convict huts on Ross Island were two-storey affairs, with the bottom as a kitchen and took area, the prisoners sleeping on the upper floor. Designed this way as an anti-malaria measure, they however leaked and the prisoners themselves were constantly damp from the rainfall, offering them little protection from the mosquitoes in any event.

Ague is an obsolete term for malaria; adults experience chills and fever in cycles.

The British would conduct experiments with quinine as a malaria treatment by force-feeding it to the prisoners. This caused severe side effects.

The British would make use of locals as warders, who wore sashes and carried canes. I'd imagine they could probably be quite brutal.

Pershoe is a small town on the River Avon near Worcester. It has a railway station with an hourly service to London, taking just under two hours today.

"Chapel-going" in this context means that the people attended a non-conformist church i.e. not one part of the Church of England.

"Taking the Queen's/King's shilling" was a historical term for joining the armed forces - for the army this was officially voluntary, but sailors could be forcibly recruited, being known as "press-ganged" until 1815. You would be given the shilling upon initial enlistment or tricked into taking it via it being slipped into your opaque beer. You would return the shilling on your formal attestation and then receive a bounty which could be pretty substantial in terms of the average wage, although a good amount of that would then be spent on your uniform. Some enlisted, deserted and then reenlisted multiple times to get multiple payments. The practice officially stopped in 1879, but the slang term remains.

The 3rd Buffs refers to the latter 3rd Battalion, Buffs (East Kent Regiment), a militia battalion that existed from 1760 to 1953, although it effectively was finished in 1919. However, in reality, they did not go to India to deal with the rebellion, instead staying in Great Britain to cover for the regular regiments who did.

The British never formally adopted the Prussian "goose step" instead going for the similar, but less high-kicking, slow march.

The musket would possibly have been the muzzle-loaded Enfield P53, a mass-produced weapon developed at the Royal Small Arms Factory in Enfield. It was itself was the trigger of the Indian Rebellion in 1857 due to the grease used in the cartridges. They would also be heavily used in the American Civil War on both sides, especially the Confederate one as they smuggled a lot of them, with only the Springfield Model 1861 being more widely used. As a result, they are highly sought after by re-enactors. The British used them until 1867, when they switched to the breech-loading Snider-Enfield, many of the P53s being converted.

The crocodile would likely have been a gharial, which mainly eat fish. Hunting and loss of habitat has reduced their numbers massively, with the species considered "Critically Endangered" by the IUCN.

"Coolie" is a term today considered offensive that was used to describe low-wage Indian or Chinese labourers who were sent around the world, basically to replace emancipated slaves. Indentured labourers, basically - something the US banned (except as a riminal punishment) along with slavery in 1865. In theory they were volunteers on a contract with rights and wages, however abuses were rife. Indentured labour would finally be banned in British colonies in 1917.

Indigo is a natural dark blue dye extracted from plants of the Indigofera genus; India produced a lot of it. Today, the dye (which makes blue jeans blue) is mostly produced synthetically.

I have covered the "Indian Mutiny" as the British called it here in my post on "The Crooked Man".

The Agra Fort dates back to 1530 and at 94 acres, it was pretty huge by any standards. Today, much of it is open to tourists (foreigners pay 650 rupees, Indians 50), although there are parts that remain in use by the Indian Army and are not for public access.

"Rajah" meaning king, referred to the many local Hindu monarchs in the Indian subcontinent; there were also Maharajahs or "great kings", who the British promoted loyal rajahs to the rank of. The Muslim equivalent was Nawab. However, a variety of other terms existed. The East India Company and the Raj that succeeded them used these local rulers to rule about a half their territory and a third of the population indirectly, albeit under quite a bit of influence from colonial officials. These rulers were vassals to the British monarch; they would collect taxes and enforce justice locally, although many of the states were pretty small (a handful of towns in some cases) and so they contracted this out to the British. As long as they remained loyal, they could get away with nearly anything.

562 of these rulers were present at the time of Indian independence in 1947. Effectively abandoned by the British (Louis Mountbatten, the last Viceroy, sending out contradictory messages), nearly all of them were persuaded to accede to the new India, where the nationalists were not keen on them, with promises they could keep their autonomy if they joined, but if not, India would not help them with any rebellions. Hyderabad, the wealthiest of the states, resisted and was annexed by force. The ruler of Jammu and Kashmir joined India in exchange for support against invading Pakistani forces, resulting in a war. A ceasefire agreement was reached at the beginning of 1949, with India controlling about two-thirds of the territory; the ceasefire line, with minor adjustments after two further wars in 1965 and 1971, would become known as the Line of Control, a dotted line on the map that is the de facto border and one of the tensest disputed frontiers on the planet.

India and Pakistan initially allowed the princely rulers to retain their autonomy, but this ended in 1956. In 1971 and 1972 respectively, their remaining powers and government funding were abolished.

Many of the former rulers ended up in a much humbler position, others retained strong local influence and a lot of wealth. The Nizam of Hyderbad, Mir Osman Ali Khan was allowed to keep his personal wealth and title after the annexation in 1948 - he had been the richest man in the world during his rule and used a 184-carat diamond as a paperweight, at least until he realised its actual value. The current "pretender", Azhmet Jah, has worked as a cameraman and filmmaker in Hollywood, including with Steven Spielberg.

[cator99]

Notes from the gym:

there appears to be another lesbian at my gym!...... unfortunately she is laying down on the floor IN BETWEEN the free weight benches. Doing leg lifts. An astonishing move to be utilizing a gym for  in it's own right. Made even more impressive by her xh0 okay right as I was sitting on the bicep curl machine typing this an elderly man creeped up behind me, leaned in over my shoulder and asked if I was Just Parking there ? Reasonable inquiry (I was in fact done my set and Just Parking) but I startled fr let out a lil gasp

20 minutes later:

Okay what's the deal there are an unprecedented amount of sus looking white women I've never seen before acting up at my hole in the wall little india gym did someone dox my hideout what gives!!!!!!

[khwxbeeda]

The Almost Wedding: Ch. II

Prev

.

Krushna had passed the limit of “fashionably late” a long time ago, and the limits of giving a fuck an even longer time ago.

The news of Tanishka agreeing to marry Chaitanya had been making the media rounds for the last two months without any signs of becoming old news— the eldest child of a film mogul and the younger brother of a famous Indian-European actress was the match of the year for the young generation of India, and the public had been going crazy over the two of them being seen holding hands and going on dates.

Three weeks ago, Krushna had been sent an invitation for an event being held to introduce Chaitanya Kulkarni to Arjun and Tanishka’s extended family with a postscript from Arjun that said he had to come whether he wanted to or not. Krushna had replied with an affirmation of his attendance, curious to get to know the man that had managed to meet the high standards of his best friend’s older sister.

He was regretting that right now.

Why did the event have to be on the day before Christmas, and why did it have to be in the evening? The celebrations were in full swing all throughout the city, and the traffic of Pune had been horrific. He had spent half an hour being stuck in the same place on the way to the venue, simply because the traffic had refused to bloody move forward. It was the insipid icing on the unpalatable cake that was the entirety of today. He was tired and drained and had nowhere near enough energy to deal with more than three people right now, but here he was, stepping out of his car after an hour of suffering through traffic and nodding in thanks to the valet for opening the door.

He took a deep breath in and released it as his chauffeur drove away and out of sight, and lifted his chin to rake a gaze over the expansive, beautiful building.

The Ritz Carlton, Pune.

He remembered first coming here for a formal event with his sister and mother three weeks after it had been opened to the public, sitting awkwardly wearing a suit he did not feel comfortable in, listening to Rukmini and Aai talk with various business associates that had smiled at him condescendingly while asking him how his school was going. The second time he had come here, it was a few months ago with his friends from Milan to celebrate his own twenty-fourth birthday, and that had been one of the best experiences ever.

Now here he was for the third time, celebrating the betrothal of a woman he did not particularly like. Curse his curiosity— Arjun had talked about the Kulkarni siblings and their out-of-this-world beauty so often that Krushna was now very interested in meeting Chandan Kulkarni.

His phone chimed, and Krushna blinked out of his reverie, letting out another exhausted sigh. He unlocked it, and opened IM. Inadvertently, a soft snort climbed up his throat at the text.

Satan and his Gucci Gang

desi regina george

wheres the hot piece of ass 7:37 P.M.

Aharya Jadhav— Arjun’s cousin of the same age, a lawyer, a fashionista, and one of the most chaotic people Krushna knew, second only to Arjun himself. Two people began typing, one of them Arjun, but he raised his eyebrows at the other one. He had been reliably informed that Sarthaki would not be attending the event, having used her broken leg as an excuse to escape the torture. No doubt the annoying little shit was lying on her bed with a bag of chips and a pizza, having fun commenting about them having to suck up to Arjun’s family.

He began walking as his idiots continued to type, through the doors into the luxurious lobby and towards the lifts without bothering to talk to the staff members or check the Events notice board. He already knew where to go.

scared of apples

idfk man he should have been here like two hours ago 7:37 P.M.

bakwaas dictionary

are you seriously calling krush a hot piece of ass?? 7:38 P.M.

Krushna bit his lip to hide his smirk and stepped into the lift, hand rising to press the button for the eighteenth floor without even having to look at it. His thumb flew across the screen of his Samsung, firing off a reply that he knew would piss Sarthaki off.

aal izz well

i mean… arent i 7:39 P.M.

scared of apples

i mean… isnt he 7:39 P.M.

desi regina george

i mean… isnt he 7:39 P.M.

bakwaas dictionary

stfu and go back to your lame party losers 7:40 P.M.

Krushna stifled a laugh as the doors of the lift slid open on the eighteenth floor, right into the entrance for the rooftop bar. He arranged his face into a polite, charming smile and tucked his phone into the pocket of his trousers, checking his reflection in the mirror on the far wall for a second. Makeup was in place, hair was pulled back into a purposely messy half up half down style, and the piercings in his ears gleamed brightly, perfectly matched to the silver brocade of his black kurta.

Good enough.

He straightened his back and stepped out onto the balcony.

Arjun and Aharya descended on him like a flock of vultures amidst the blinding flashes of the paparazzi’s cameras, wrapping themselves around each of his arms and giving him identical sweet smiles that immediately sent alarm bells ringing through his head. He groaned under his breath as they dragged him towards the bar.

“Fuck, please tell me you two chuckleheads didn’t murder someone,” he murmured under his breath, “I do not have the energy to help you hide a body tonight.”

Arjun let out a strained chuckle.

“Nahi,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, a stiff smile stretched over his glossy lips. He looked good, with contour and highlighter accentuating his bone structure and wearing a royal blue silk kurta with matching trousers. The bi flag bead bracelet Krushna had gotten for him when he had first come out was in place as it always was, and it rattled ominously when Arjun dug his fingers almost painfully into Krushna’s biceps. “But I’m extremely fucking close to snapping Tanu Tai’s pretty little neck.”

There was a Marathi phrase for the situation that Tanishka and Arjun were in. Chhattis cha aakda. It literally meant “the number thirty-six”, and implied that three and six would always be at odds with each other due to being complete opposites. Arjun and Tanishka were not entirely different— they were both good looking, frighteningly smart and shared a number of little quirks— but they were always at each other’s throats about literally everything, and it was a 24/7 source of entertainment for their friend group.

“What did she do now?” Krushna asked, leaning back on the bar and turning to give Aharya a chaste kiss on the cheek. She looked beautiful, dressed in a pearly white saree with silver zari and matching blouse, a sterling silver choker around her slender throat and hair piled into a stylish bun with a silver and pearl hairpin. Her makeup was flawless, with glimmering silvery white eyeshadow, white highlighter and soft pink lip gloss. “And Aharya jaan, you look fabulous as always.”

“Thank you, my love. Tanu Tai is showing off her arm candy,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, accepting the glass of champagne that Arjun handed her and leaning back against the bar. “Chaitanya— that’s the husband to be— is pretty and smart, and Arjun has dealt with enough of her bragging about it.”

Arjun scoffed, extending a black glittery cocktail towards Krushna, who took it gratefully. After the day he had just gone through, drink and gossip was the perfect pick me up. He took a sip and hummed in surprised approval at the explosion of blueberry on his tongue.

“And like, I get it okay,” Arjun said, raising his own glass of some violently pink concoction to his lips, “the man is ridiculously pretty and he’s studying physics because he actually bloody likes it, the weirdo.” The last two words are said with affection, and Krushna suddenly remembered that Arjun had spent a lot of time with this mysterious to-be-fiancé of Tanishka’s since the beginning of September. “He deserves to be shown off a little. But god damn can you shut up for like three seconds?”

Aharya stifled her snicker behind her glass, and Krushna grinned.

“He’s approved by both of you?” he said with exaggerated shock, placing a hand to his chin. “This is a tremendous occasion, I simply must meet this mystery man now.”

Arjun and Aharya rolled their eyes as one, already used to his theatrics. “He’s out of Tai’s league, honestly,” Arjun muttered. “I don’t know what he saw in her that he agreed to a marriage, but we all know he’s way out of her league.”

Krushna raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk curling up the edges of his lips. Arjun saying something was out of Tanishka’s league was routine, and so was Krushna and Aharya taking turns to pour gasoline on the dumpster fire that was Arjun and Tanishka’s relationship. “Well, then,” he drawled, “someone, introduce me to this man— what did you say his name was?”

“Chaitanya,” Aharya supplied, dark brown eyes glittering with the same amusement that Krushna was sure he himself was showing. “Chaitanya Kulkarni. I think you might have met his older sister somewhere at your modelling gigs— Charita Kulkarni, that actress who’s based in France.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his cocktail. “Yeah, I worked on that campaign for UNICEF with her two years ago. Excellent woman, and very intelligent. I had no idea she had a sibling.”

“She has three,” Arjun said. “Two brothers and a sister. And all of them are bloody fit. Seriously, it’s actually frustrating. Shame the oldest is married, or I’d have hit on him.”

Krushna and Aharya burst out laughing, attracting the attention of nearby tables before they remembered where they were and toned down the noise.

“You won’t believe the number of times this dude has gone on and on about Chandan, I swear,” Aharya snickered, and Krushna laughed harder, patting her on the shoulder.

“Oh, darling,” he gasped, “I’ve literally been dealing with it every day since the day Tanishka met that fiancé of hers. The first thing he did was call me and whine about how it’s ‘such a shame that Chandan is happily married’ and how he would ‘climb him like a tree if given the chance’, never mind that the man is almost forty.”

Arjun glared at him, and the fact that there was definitely a blush creeping up his neck under all his makeup had Krushna burying his face in Aharya’s shoulder to stop himself from cackling louder.

“I do not whine,” the shorter man grumbled, looking like he was seconds away from stomping his foot. “I do not!”

Krushna could not stop laughing. He leaned against Aharya with an arm wrapped around her waist for support, both of them giggling uncontrollably, stomachs starting to ache with how hard they were trying not to laugh too loud. Arjun groaned through gritted teeth, and folded his arms across his chest and glared at them, leather shoes tapping on the floor.

“Look, do you wanna meet Chaitanya or not?” he asked impatiently.

Krushna sucked in a deep breath and nodded, forcing himself to stop laughing. He elbowed Aharya in the stomach and gave her a look that said shut up, and turned to Arjun with the most demure expression he could manage, making him snort derisively.

“Alright,” he muttered, grabbing his drink to throw the last of it back and setting the empty glass down on the bar. “Come on, Tai has dragged him along for her rounds. Find her, and we find him.”

— — —

Chaitanya stuck his free hand in his pockets and exhaled through his nose, making sure the smile on his face did not look as done-with-this-shit as he felt. Tanishka had her hand tucked into his left elbow, and was smiling charmingly at one of the many old ladies that he had been introduced to and promptly forgotten the names of.

Gods, this was too many people in too little time. He wanted to leave.

He had nothing against Tanishka and her family, of course— they were wonderful people for the most part, except for that one aunt who had asked outright if he was planning to live off of his family’s wealth since the M.Sc in Physics was obviously not of any use— but he really did not have the social capabilities to be dealing with such a large crowd. He had run out of things to say twenty minutes ago, and was simply smiling and nodding along to whatever Tanishka was talking about, not bothering to pay attention to anything.

Chandan, the traitor, was ensconced with a socialite at one of the tables at the corner, deep in conversation about something or the other. Charuta was in Delhi, having left two months ago for her work, and Charita was… nowhere to be seen. Chaitanya furrowed his brows and cast a glance all over the place.

Where’s Ritu Tai?

He scanned the entire place, but no. There was not a single hint of the eye-catching hot pink cocktail dress his sister was wearing. He frowned harder and tapped Tanishka’s arm so she would loosen her grip, and turned around, only to catch Arjun’s eye.

The boy in question grinned and waved, beckoning Chaitanya to join him. Chaitanya shrugged and tilted his head towards Tanishka, who had an iron grip on his elbow and was still talking to the lady. Arjun’s eye roll was visible even from across the pool, and Chaitanya suppressed a grin. He liked Arjun— the boy was hilarious, openly bisexual and an absolute riot. He was what Chaitanya supposed he would have been if he had not been such a bloody introvert.

A few seconds later, Arjun came to a stop right next to him just in time for a couple flashes of blinding white light to go off, reminding him of the presence of the paparazzi. The other boy was accompanied by two people— a pretty woman whose name he could not remember, and the most beautiful man Chaitanya had ever seen in his life.

His eyes were a startlingly bright grey, almost silver in the lights of the restaurant, made even brighter by the silvery smokey eye makeup and diamond sharp winged liner. He was almost a head taller than Chaitanya, with long black hair pulled back into a half up half down style that accentuated his sharp, contoured cheekbones, and full lips covered in transparent glitter gloss. The black kurta with gold brocade that he wore only served to show off his broad shoulders and thick biceps, and his ears were covered in piercings— two standard lobe piercings, a helix on the left ear, and an industrial on the right— gold to match the rest of his outfit.

Krushna Mahajan.

Chaitanya recognised him, from a couple of photos his sister had shown him from that one UNICEF camp again she had done a few years ago, and from a few posts on Instagram that he had seen on his FYP. He was a model and owned his own fashion brand based here in Pune, if Chaitanya remembered correctly.

“Good evening, Tanishka,” the man greeted with a deep, honey-smooth voice, full lips pulling into a smile that was just so on the wrong side of polite that was completely at odds with his pleasant tone, taking in Tanishka’s outfit with the classic Up and Down. “I see you’ve cleaned up nicely.”

There was a ‘for once’ implied at the end of the sentence. Chaitanya raised a brow and looked at Arjun, who winked and silently gestured with his eyes for him to keep watching. He suppressed a smile and acquiesced.

“Krushna,” Tanishka greeted with a ramrod straight back, much less polite. “I don’t remember sending you an invite.”

Chaitanya turned to her, blinking slowly in shock. That was the bluntest he had seen her speak today; she had even been polite to that one aunt Arjun had told him she had loathed since she was a child. Had she suddenly forgotten all her manners? Granted, the man had probably snuck into the party without an invite, but that was no reason to be unpleasant in full view of the guests and cameras. The old lady she had been playing nice with a few moments ago was less than three feet away, for fuck’s sake!

“Actually, Tanu Tai,” Arjun interjected, the promise of chaos written all over his too sharp, too smug smile, “I sent him an invite because you forgot to. After all, he’s practically family, isn’t he?”

Behind him, the beautiful woman smirked and raised her champagne glass to her lips, narrow-eyed gaze focused predatorily on Tanishka. Chaitanya was starting to think that this was an ambush, and that he just had the unfortunate luck of being caught in the crossfire.

Beside him, Tanishka clenched her jaw, plum-painted lips pursing dispassionately. She looked beautiful today, with a deep purple co-ord kurta and palazzo set that matched the tie Chaitanya was wearing, but that prettiness sharpened into something terrifying the moment she glared at Krushna. He decided it was best if he interfered, and hastily stuck a hand out towards Krushna with a small, polite smile.

“Good evening,” he greeted in the most amiable tone he could muster, “it’s nice to meet you. I’m Chaitanya Kulkarni. Tanishka’s boyfriend.”

Krushna’s intense silver stare fixed itself onto him, and the slow, charming grin that curled up his full, glossy lips was positively swoon-worthy. “Oh, they weren’t lying,” he murmured under his breath as he took the offered hand and shook it firmly. “You really are ridiculously beautiful. Hello, Gorgeous. I'm Krushna Mahajan.”

A red hot flush bloomed across Chaitanya’s cheeks, and he squashed down the urge to squirm, ducking his head and letting out an honest to God giggle. He was pretty sure he resembled a tomato, and silently cursed his pale complexion for flushing so easily. “Ah, um,” he stammered, an awkward smile curling up his lips, “not— not really. I’m just⁠― I’m just wearing a bit of makeup.”

Krushna chuckled, smooth and deep and unfairly attractive. “Makeup is not the only thing that makes someone beautiful,” he replied, gazing intently into Chaitanya’s eyes.

The sound of a throat being cleared broke the moment, and he realised Krushna still had a firm grip on his hand. He pulled away with another awkward laugh and turned towards Tanishka, who had her eyes narrowed at Krushna. Her fingernails dug into Chaitanya’s elbow till it was bordering on painful, and he winced, shifting a little so the pressure lessened.

“Ah, my apologies,” Krushna said, his voice very apologetic but the way he narrowed his eyes back at her very much not. “Congratulations on the betrothal, Chaitanya. Tanishka, I’m very happy for you.”

Arjun made an aborted sort of sound, hiding it by turning away, and Chaitanya blinked at him in confusion. Tanishka’s glare focused on her little brother, and the man in question raised his hands with a shrug and a badly hidden shit-eating grin. Chaitanya felt like he was missing about several hundred extremely important details, and he looked at Krushna with a raised eyebrow. The man simply shrugged back, and he felt himself unconsciously tracking the movement of the broad line of his shoulders before turning away and catching the eye of the woman in pearly white.

She winked at him. Chaitanya pursed his lips, feeling his flush return full force, and he blinked, trying to look anywhere except Krushna or the woman.

“Come, Chaitanya,” Tanishka gritted out, adjusting her clothes and tugging on his elbow, almost making him lose his footing. “We have other guests to meet. Arjun and Aharya can keep Krushna entertained.”

With that, he got dragged away before any of them could reply, throwing one last apologetic look back at the three friends.

“Tanishka,” he began, but the woman did not even bother to look at him, and continued to pull him towards whatever part of the restaurant she had her mind on. He sighed and ripped his arm from her grip as gently as he could, exceedingly aware of the cameras on the edges of the room that were eager to click away at any perceived unrest or drama, and gently grabbed her shoulders to turn her around. “Tanishka. Tanishka, wait.”

She glared at him, and he bent down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, and cheered internally when she leaned into the touch instead of pulling away like he was half afraid she would.

“What happened back there?” he murmured, and she shook her head minutely, the look on her face telling him to drop it. He ignored it. He wanted answers. “I’ve never seen you be that rude to anyone— hell, you were nice to that bitch who spilled her coffee on you the other day.”

Tanishka’s lips twisted up, features scrunching up into a poisonous look aimed over his shoulder, and he had an inkling that it was aimed at Krushna. “It’s nothing,” she said curtly. “Don’t concern yourself with it.”

Chaitanya sighed and dragged her closer for a hug, clenching his jaw when he saw a flash go off from the corner of his eyes. He turned them around so the cameras could not get a glimpse of Tanishka’s face, and leaned down to place another kiss on her forehead. “I just wanna know if there’s something I can do to help,” he said softly, running a soothing hand up and down her back.

Tanishka shook her head.

“No,” she whispered, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, Chaitanya was alarmed to see them swimming with mushed tears. He pressed her closer to himself, casting a panicked eye around for Charita. Bloody woman kept disappearing right as he needed her the most.

“Krushna and Arjun go way back,” Tanishka said after taking a second to control herself, words coming out haltingly like she was trying not to choke on her tears. “And they’ve made it their mission to ruin anything and everything for me. They hate me, and they make it known. It’s been like that since I was fifteen.”

Chaitanya stared at her, not knowing how to respond to that. Sure, Arjun had an unusual love for pushing Tanishka’s buttons, and guessing from what he saw right now Krushna was probably not her biggest fan, but that could not possibly mean they hated her. Hell, he and Charita still heckled the eldest two siblings to their limits, but that did not mean they did not love each other.

“I’m sure that—” he began, but Tanishka glared at him and shook her head.

“Let’s not talk about this,” she said, and before he could stop her, she extracted herself from his hug and walked away, the soft jingle of her paayal lost to the sounds of the party. Chaitanya stared after her for a couple seconds, unsure of how to react to this situation.

He exhaled, and ran a hand through his hair.

Maybe it was best that he focused on looking for Charita, rather than whatever sibling rivalry was going on between Tanishka and Arjun, and Krushna.

.

.

Tag list: @kanha-sakhi @musaafir-hun-yaaron @orgasming-caterpillar @natures-marvel @yehsahihai @h0bg0blin-meat @mad-who-ra @girlatreus @krisnosura (lmk if you want to be added/removed)

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

SET FOUR - ROUND THREE - MATCH ONE

"Symphony of the Sixth Blast Furnace" (1979 - Evgeny Sedukhin) / "Khajuraho Group of Monuments" (c. 885-1000)

SYMPHONY OF THE SIXTH BLAST FURNACE: I love the things it does with shape and light and I love how big and bright and holy the machinery is. the beauty of everyday overlooked things. (@regicidal-optimism)

KHAJURAHO GROUP OF MONUMENTS: alright so obviously the carvings of these temple floor me. they are absolutely stunning and intricate!!!

although khajuraho has much more to it than its erotic nature the thing i love about this picture are these particular carvings. they give a small glimpse of how sex wasnt a stigma back then.

espl because now sex is something that is considered to 'make you stray further from god', it is big deal that it was depicted on temples! (and obviously it shouldnt be)“Even the Kama (sex) scenes, when seen in combination of sculptures that precede and follow, depict the spiritual themes such as moksha (the transcendent state attained as a result of being released from the cycle of rebirth.). This state which is “like a man and woman in close embrace” is a symbol of moksa, final release or reunion of two principles, the essence (Purusha) and the nature (Prakriti). Source” (anonymous)

("Symphony of the Sixth Blast Furnace" is an oil on canvas painting by Soviet artist Evgeny Sedukhin.

"Khajuraho Group of Monuments" was a group of 85 Hindu and Jain temples, spread over 20 sq km (7.7 sq mi); today, only about 25 temples have survived, spread over six sq km (2.3 sq mi). They are located in Chhatarpur, Madhya Pradesh, India.)

[thekiltongrammarwriter]

Girl I’ve Always Been | Childhood (1)

Pairing: Andie Bell x fem reader (Becca Bell x reader) childhood best friends

Summary: Her deep silver eyes shot up to you, wide and almost menacing. Her eyes were the same color as your father you noticed. Her lips were calm and poised as they eyed you, running down your figure to stop at your soiled trainers. Her bike was still on the ground, you could just make out the sticker that lined the bars. ‘Property of: Andie Bell’ written neatly on with a marker pen. Andie bell.

Series Warnings: Childhood innocence, toxic parents, Jason Bell being his own warning, hurt/comfort, found family, firecracker baby Becca Bell, featuring the very famous Roadie and Toadie, My take on the Bell family. Pre AGGGTM.

Authors note: I first Read A good girl guide to murder when it first released in 2019, and I absolutely adored it. It kept me on my feet and I fell head over heels for so many characters. I happen to be one of those people that sympathize a great deal with characters. One of those characters happened to be Andie bell. She was so complex, so versatile it was impossible to know her next move. I throughly enjoyed the dynamic between the Bell family, and in turn it made me love Andie more as a character. Not condoning her actions, but there is a saying, hurt people hurt people. I wrote this piece simply to explore Andie’s childhood, and explore it in my own special way. This is again solely for entertainment purposes. I do hope you enjoy it. (The cover photos will be altered when we get picts of India as Andie)

Words: well beyond 7k (Not Proofread. Expect grammar errors)

Your eyes peered out of the frosty window of the car your parents had been driving for what seemed like hours now. You watched as the bustling streets of London remained a firm solid memory in your mind, your eyes now peering over at the soft country road of a small town. Your mother eyed you with soft eyes from the front seat, leaning down so her firm hand made contact with your cheek, softly moving some strands of hair from your eyes. “I know the move was not what you expected sweetheart, but your father and I know you will grow to love Little Kilton. I hear there are even some lakes? Isn’t that so Charles?”

Your father’s soft smile filled his features as he peered at you with his soft silvery eyes, “Oh yes! Plenty of lakes! I hear they’re known for their tea rooms!”

What town wasn’t known for their tea rooms?

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, watching as your fathers smile lifted at the sound of your voice, at the age of eight you had now moved more than four times. That was just part of the job given that your parents were the top familial therapist’s in the England. They had worked with so many families all over, from the great city of Cardiff in Wales to the great burrowing dales of Scotland. You had been too small to remember the early years, living in wales and Scotland, though you think now you’ll remember this move the most.

The white pale sign greets your eyes, ‘Little Kilton’ leaping of it as your father zooms past, he notices your wide gleaming eyes watching the small city center, the churchyard, the tea rooms. It’s all so new. It’s only when your father turns into a small neighborhood that you really feel anxious, your leg shaking against the car floor.

The houses all look similar to each other, terraced houses, orange brick lined with white window tills, black rimmed picked fences. Your father curses as he flips the map onto the left side, “Jenny do you have that paper I gave to you when we left tesco’s yesterday? The one with our address on the back?”

There is some shuffling as your mother peers through her rucksack, before producing a small piece of paper, you’re observant enough that you catch the street name, Hogg Hill. You laugh to yourself, imagining a street laden with Hoggs, all sorts of colors.

“There we are” your father sputters, twisting the wheel until the car is turning on a specific road. “Hog Hill, number 29”. The house isn’t what you expected, its a detached house, standing alone from all the others, the brick is devoid of color, probably withered away with age. The gate that lines the house is made of brick, metal bars upholding the bricks. The mail slot is pure gold, cleaner than any other mail slot you had seen in your short years of life.

The windows remain clean, and you’re about to ask your mother if the previous tenant had done a clean up when she answered for you, getting out of the car, eyes taking in the house.

“Would you look at that Charles-“ your mother begins, her words a void in your head as she begins to decorate the front door, talking a mile a minute about planting a small garden, to which you take the time to look round. The street is small, but you find yourself smiling as you watch an elderly couple walking their small dog, lead on and tail wagging. It makes your heart swell, but also in a way that has you begging for home. Your grandparents had been sad to see you go, and you along with them. You must have cried buckets upon leaving.

It’s your father who mentions it. You don’t remember noticing it yourself before he had brought it up, “My goodness will you get a look at that tree Jenny?? It’s bigger than five lots combined!” Your father comes near, rustling your ponytail and tickling you as he passes, “it’s a sycamore tree! Your favorite!”

Your eyes follow your fathers and right across from your house stands a tree. Not just any tree, a sycamore tree. Your grandmother’s favorite. It’s big and tall, overlooking the semi detached houses, and all you want to do is rush over and begin climbing. That small curiosity that beats in your chest aching to get out. You bet you could see all of Little Kilton from that high above the ground, you wager you could even see all of London, maybe even London Eye. It’s only then that your mother breaks your concentration, piling up your arms with boxes, as much as your eight year old hands can carry. And the tree is forgotten.

After nearly two days of decorating and helping your mum move the furniture you’re itching to get outside. It’s when your mother is out talking on the phone that you manage to sneak out from under her.

The weather is Cloudy, the breeze feeling nice on your skin, the tiny patch of sun that peeks out through the dreary clouds is warm. You tug your climbing shoes on, before racing across the street.

The sycamore is as big as your grandmothers, and you easily climb on it, making it halfway. You clutch the tree trunk in your hands as you peer down at the land bellow. Although your previous theory of being able to see London had been false, you never realized how small Little Kilton truly was. It stretched miles and miles, but seemed cut off from the rest of the world. A tiny town filled with tiny people.

A vast difference from the bustling Streets of London. Where the people were anything but tiny, crowds of people going to and from. The feel of the underground station rocking your feet, rattling the edges of your skin.

It was quiet here. Almost too quiet. The Unsettling sort of quiet that caused your mind to race with endless ideas. Here there was no underground station, no busy bodies going to and from, just the tiny town, where kids would play in the park and everyone knew your name.

It would only be a matter of time before your mum found you missing and would call for you to come back, help her finish off the garden out back. You sighed, moving to climb off the tree, making sure you were careful on the way, you didn’t want to get any scratches or broken limbs. Not like last time.

You hadn’t seen her at first, the tree had most likely been too high to peer down at, you had mostly kept your eyes on the rest of the town, not bothering to look bellow. A girl was on her bicycle, pedaling angrily down the hill. You watched from your front steps as her front tire hit a crack in the pavement. The first thing you noticed was, she didn’t cry. Or wince. She simply rose up from the road, ashy blonde hair now ruined as she pulled up her ponytail. Her scraped palms and unblemished face were a stark contrast to the fierce determination in her eyes. You could tell she was angry, from her raised brows and lips muttering incomprehensible words.

her knee was bleeding, racetracks of blood spilling over the wound that had no doubt gotten cut from the fall. You weren’t sure what possessed you at that moment to walk over to her. You were normally too scared, too sensitive to go talk to other children on your own. But something in you made your feet walk towards her.

Maybe it was because your parents were therapist or because you were observant and you always knew when people needed to talk, but you stood in front of her, your feet licking against the ground as you walked, alerting the blonde girl of your presence.

Her deep silver eyes shot up to you, wide and almost menacing. Her eyes were the same color as your father you noticed. Her lips were calm and poised as they eyed you, running down your figure to stop at your soiled converse. Her bike was still on the ground, you could just make out the sticker that lined the bars. ‘Property of: Andie Bell’ written neatly on with a marker pen.

Andie bell.

She eyed you for what felt like eternity, until you managed to speak. “I saw you fall”. If the girl thought your words were candid she didn’t show it, only rose those threatening eyebrows, her silvery eyes wild as she eyed you, like she was on the defense. You knew that because your parents had seen to many cases like that.

Andie couldn’t help but feel like your words were contradictory, like you cared but didn’t at the same time.

Her chest puffed outward, like a threatened puffer fish desperately trying to defend itself, and then the stubborn response fell from her lips, “Didn’t fall.” The words were harsh, menacing, with a sudden chill added to them. “just….lost balance is all”

You scoffed, eyebrows raised, clearly she had. The evidence was all around for others to see, You just stared at her for a second, wondering if she was being serious. Surly the way her knees were scrapped and her bike was dented had been evident of the fall, of some accident.

“But you did” you let out, head tilting, eyes soft.

Andie gulped, her nose flaring and eyes squinting in anger. “No I didn’t” she growled out. But you saw it—the tremor in her voice, the vulnerability she tried to hide. She got closer to your face, hands balling into fists. She didn’t like how weak you made her feel, and even more so that she couldn’t read you enough to decipher your emotions. It was beyond frustrating. but it was obvious you didn’t perceive . All you saw was an angry little girl with the same characteristics your parents would talk about.

You shrieked back as she stepped over to you, eyes still mapping out your emotions, trying to catch a glimpse of anything.

It took a second, but you could clearly see her anger, the way it was raw irritation. You planted your feet, stood your ground. She was in obvious need of help, you could tell from the way she held her body that pain was something she was not immune to.

“I have plasters. No shame in falling.” Andie’s gaze bore into yours, as if assessing whether your words held true. She was wary, like a wild animal caught in a snare and at that you watched as her eyes softened, and with a simple nod moved past you, bumping your shoulder lighty as she passed.

She followed you back to the house silently, scratched up bike trailing beside her.

She didn’t talk, didn’t even veer her eyes away from in front of her, pulling her dented bike by its handles. Once you made it to your new house, boxes and boxes still laying out in your fathers boot, evidence of you being freshly new to the town.

Your father smiled as you neared, his eyes kind and sweet, and you watched as his eyes took in the girl next to you, taking in her bleeding knee and soiled clothes. “Oh dear! Have a fall did we sweetheart?” He spoke, dropping the box he was carrying to come and eye Andie.

You watched the blonde girl, who seemed a bit nervous and confused as your father moved closer to her, she stepped back a bit, not too much for it to be noticeable, but you noticed. You could tell by her firm jaw and observant eyes that she was calculating her thoughts about your father.

“This is Andie Bell papa” you spoke out, moving to step in front of the small girl,a small smile perched on your lips. “She had a bit of a fall and I offered to help clean her up”.

You watched as Andie’s silver eyes moved to you, and you didn’t understand why you suddenly felt nervous, the beginnings of butterflies in your stomach.

Your father nodded at your words, moving to grab your head affectionately and drag you into him, laying a big almost embarrassingly kiss onto your cheek. You shrieked, pulling away, wiping at where your father left his lips.

“Always the mediator aren’t you” he had whispered into your skin

You were a big girl now, and you certainly didn’t need to be branded as the girl whose parents still treated her like a toddler with their endless affection. If your father noticed your less than enthusiastic behavior torward his affection he didn’t make it known. Only smiled that wide smile, “well Andie it’s a pleasure to meet you!! I’m sure you’ve made quite the impression on my daughter, you’re the first friend she’s ever brought home”.

You could feel your cheeks heating up at your father’s admission, you were worried Andie would be less than enthused to be around a middle aged man talking fondly about his daughter. You were sure she would take the plaster from your hands and walk straight out of the door, no thank you or words mentioned. She most likely thought you a nerd, a dweed, a good girl who did everything your parents asked, and with a smile. That you were, and you weren’t ashamed, you usually never were. So why was it when it came to Andie Bell did you feel the need to suddenly be cool?

To your great and utter astonishment the blonde only smiled at your father, the lines of her lips lifting into a beautiful grin, and you were amazed at how beautiful her smile was. It was a big difference from the scowl you had seen on her face the whole walk over.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too sir.” It was short and simple, and your father seemed to like that, moving aside and gesturing for you to take Andie inside the cluttered house, where you were sure your mother would be flying around like a headless chicken.

“Don’t let me stop you. Off you girls go, and make sure to clean out those cuts, don’t want them to get infected” he chimed, going back to the boxes laying on the pavement of the drive.

“Sorry about my father” you spoke, “he means well but sometimes I think he fancies making me feel embarrassed” you whispered.

You watched as Andie’s eyes remained on yours, something flickering in them, you didn’t notice it then, the small flickers. Emotions that were too big for an eight year old to feel, that would flicker and make themselves known.

“Your father loves you” she spoke, her voice calm and controlled, a major difference to her angry self that you had met a while back on the pavement floor. “I think it’s wonderful”.

Wonderful? Any other child your age would have agreed with you, would have laughed and said a very different thing, “parents! How embarrassing can they be!!”. But Andie Bell hadn’t, in fact she had saved you from making a small error in your judgement. You peered back to your father, watched as he eyed the boxes, standing that same way he always did when he thought too hard.

A smile formed on your lips. Your chest ached in that way that only ever happened when you thought of your dad. A warm feeling. “You’re right” you chimed. It was only then that your eyes caught the lines of discomfort in the young girls face, the way her lips let out a hiss as she walked.

You immediately without thought reached for her hand, concern etched into your soft eyes, “come along Andie, let’s fix that cut of yours”.

Your mum’s eyes rose from the lamp she had carefully taken out of the box, eyes seeming to take on a surprised expression as you strolled in, hand in hand with Andie. Your mother looked amused, like she’d waited for this moment for years.

“Made a friend already have we dear?” Her smile is genuine and soft, her eyes then turn down to the cuts on the girl and immediately mum mode is activated. She immediately comes near to Andie, “had quite the adventure it seems, come dear let’s clean that cut of yours. What’s your name sweetheart?”

Your surprised when Andie replies, fast and steady, you watch the way she interacts with your mother, her uneasiness of others seeming to fade away as she tells your mother where she lives, “Number 33 four houses down, I have a little sister named Becca, but she’s a bit of a bore, all she does is toddle about and play with her dolls”.

You think it’s the most words you’ve ever heard the girl say in your presence. Your mother seems to love the conversation, nodding along and laughing at the way Andie describes Becca, like any older sister would, with the least affection.

You watch from your place across the table as your mother asks permission to lift Andie onto the granite, and when she nods your mother lifts her on the counter, very tenderly taking the girls shins into her hands before cleaning out her wound. Andie doesn’t wince, nor cry, the only indication that she’s felt any type of pain evident from the way her fingers grip the sides of the granite, fingers turning deathly pale. “I am quite use to cleaning cuts” your mother spoke, moving to get the plaster from the box and placing them neatly on the wound, tapping Andie’s cheeks playfully as she did so. Andie had smiled, not a forceful smile or a big smile. But a soft one. Genuine in nature

“This girl over here is constantly giving me a fright with her tree climbing. I’m just happy that she was there to help you”.

Andie’s eyes meet yours, and to your surprise she nods her head, a mere shake directed at you, but you know well enough what it truly means. Thank you. Thank you for helping me. You can’t fight the smile that fits across your features, or the amused expression on Andie’s face. Once of the counter and onto the floor you watch as Andie’s eyes widen, your ears hearing a distant voice in the distance, “Andie your father is almost home!! Come put the kettle on!” It’s a woman’s voice. But your perspective enough to watch the way Andie’s eyes change when the word father is entered into the equation. Your mother must tell too, because she’s immediately speaking, “it’s about tea time. Why don’t you go along home now honey? I’m sure your mother is looking for you”. Andie is nodding, before making her way out the door and down to her bike, not even looking back at you. A pit opens in your stomach, but it’s only when she’s about halfway down the drive that she turns. “I didn’t catch your name. You’ll have to tell me next time!” She shouts, and then she’s gone, biking down the street down to her house.

Your mother only smiles, moving to kiss your forehead, “well look who made a friend today.” Only your not listening, your made to focused on following Andie as she peddles down to her house. Her mum is outside the house, looking like a carbon copy of her daughter, and she sighs when she sees Andie, speaking words you can’t hear, but you watch as Andie points in the direction of your house. Her mother peers over and you find yourself ducking behind the door, hoping she hadn’t caught you. But you don’t see the way Andie laughs, her eight year old teeth making appearance as she giggles.

You don’t see Andie much during the weekend, your parents keep you busy as you trail alongside them in the center of Little Kilton, holding fast to your fathers hand as you go into the antique shops, your eyes far to busy taking in all the old valuables, old oil paintings and clocks devoid of colour and paint. Although you can’t help but want to run into Andie, you can’t explain why, but you felt this feeling in your chest when you looked at her, you didn’t know what it was, or why it was there. At first you had thought it odd, but now..you enjoyed it. The way it would flit through your whole body, make your tiny heart beat fast in your chest.

As you sit in the ices cream parlor, a cone in your hands you watch as your mother sits in front of you, eating her ice cream with a spoon, much too posh then your father and you. Unlike you barbarians she didn’t feel the need to lick till her tongue was frozen. You were usually a rather observant child, people would comment that you were much to mature for your age, you weren’t sure if that was true. Did a mature eight year old still wear bunny nighties to bed?

But you were observant as ever. Had been ever since you were an infant, your eyes were always so clever, finding things, always searching. Learning, mapping. You could see it now, the way your parents were eyeing each other, you knew those eyes. The back to school discussion. It was practically protocol now.

“I can see you both eying each other, is it about school?” You let out, your tiny eyes flitted between your parents. Your father smiled, that large grin that lifted of his features, his sliver eyes glinted and he merely nodded. “As a matter of fact yes. Your mother and I know you’ll be starting up year eight soon.” Your father moved to pinch your cheeks, “growing a bit old ain’t you?” He joked. You giggled, but the sentiment was just as felt. You were getting older.

You were usually star pupil, always getting the highest marks in exams and projects. You were use to being the new kid, that never changed but it didn’t help when you started school back up again, it usually left you with anxiety, trying to fit in a new environment. You delt with many different children in the past, angry children, cruel, kind, clever, plain mad. That wasn’t what you were worried about. You were more worried about the logistics of the day. Which classroom would you go too, would you need your kit for physical education? What if you lost it or misplaced it? Would the teachers be angry?

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine come Monday.” Your mother spoke, “Kilton grammar School is a perfect educational school, I was just having a chat with that Dawn Bell from four houses down, and she tells me your little friend Andie is starting up year eight as well”. At that you can feel your mothers sly finger meet your stomach, you thrash as she tickles you. But all you can think about is that Andie will be at school. With you. It shouldn’t make you as happy as you feel, but you welcome the excitement.

The rest of the weekend flashes by so fast you’d think it never happened. Your mum finishes the final touches of the house, decorating it with as many colorful portraits and antique clocks. Your father helps you pick out your school uniform. Just as my school you’ve been to Kilton Grammar school is no different. Your father holds up your polo uniform, Kilton grammar emblem embedded in the fabric. He holds it up in his hands, it looks tiny compared to your father. Like he’s some giant. It makes a grin overtake your features.

“I quite like this shade of blue. Nicer than your old pair of uniforms you had to wear.” He puts it down on your bed, “now for your jumper”. You watch as he puts it next to your polo, “I say we go with these smart trousers, it will be a bit nifty when we drop of. Wouldn’t want you catching cold now would we? Or perhaps we could go with some smart skirts and wear some long socks, it’s a while since I was in primary school. Is that still allowed jelly bean?”.

You laugh, “i think I’ll go with the smart trousers papa”. He nods, “grand idea.”

It’s no surprise when on Monday morning your eyes open even before your alarm wakes. It’s the early hours of the morning, you can tell from the way the sun is not quite up, not yet ready to greet the sun. You yawn, pad to the lavatory, brush your teeth and smarten your hair. You settle for a dull ponytail, bunching up your brown bristles of hair. You wish you had gotten your mothers honey curls, but you hadn’t. Dull old brown suited you. It was then that your eyes caught sight of the sycamore tree. And you wondered how the view looked from way up high, it had been otherworldly to be up that high last time. But the colour from the morning sky must have been otherworldly. You had half and to sneak out, have a quick climb, perhaps ease your anxious anxiety, but your parents had woken up a bit long after.

Your mother busied herself with breakfast, putting a plate of fried eggs, one very juicy tomato and some mushrooms in front of your face. You had barley eaten two bites, your stomach filled to the brims with nerves when your mother had dragged you to the car, “we’ll be late if we wait any longer!” She chimed. You buckled in and watched as your father’s car rolled out of the driveway. You couldn’t help but flit your eyes to the Bell house. It looked quiet from the outside, and you wondered if Andie was half as nervous as you were. You laughed at that, Andie didn’t seem like the kind to be nervous about these type of things. You were sure right about now she was as calm and chipper as you were. Perhaps she would busy right at this very moment berating her little sister as they sat in the car, “Becca would you please stop that chattering!! It’s hurting my head!” You could practice hear.

As soon as the school gates appeared you could feel your chest halt, the way it always did when you were nervous. That familiar drop in the pit of your stomach. ‘I can do this. I can do this. Just be calm’ you recited in your head like a mantra. Your mother took your trembling hand in hers, and walked you across the cold nifty England air into the building. You took in the school corridors, watching all the children pass you in the halls. Your nerves seemed to run rampant as you took in the sight of all the halls, endless amount of classrooms and was that a stairwell?? How were you ever going to memorize this information? Where were the lavatories? The Headmasters office? The nurse?

“I can see your feeling a bit overwhelmed at all this new information” your mother’s voice spoke, and she very calmly took your hands in hers, her green eyes soft as she eyed you. “Remember what we practiced last time? Breathe in….” You did, “and out”.

She smiled once you did, moving to kiss your forehead. “Now you are going to have a wonderful day! I’ll let you in on a secret-dad and I are nervous as well. It’s always scary to try new things. But I’ll tell you what, when I come to pick you we’ll pick up a few sausage rolls”. How could you ever say no to that?

After your mum walked you to your class, you breathed in a sigh of relief when Mrs Edmunds came up to you, she was a soft young women, couldn’t have been older than your aunt, fresh out of Uni you assumed. “Well hello Miss Y/n. I’m Mrs Edmund! Welcome to year eight. Why don’t you go ahead and have a seat where you like, you can leave your kit on the table”.

Your brows furrowed as you eyes the corridors, flitting around for your father. He never would leave without saying any sort of parting. Especially on first days. Your chest began to heave slightly faster, what if he didn’t come?

“Looking for me jelly bean?” You immediately let out a sigh, falling into his arms and holding fast. Your father always had a way to calm your racing heart. It was like he just knew what to say. Some kind of magic only he had. After a long embrace and a kiss on the cheek he smiled, that wide glinting smile, sliver eyes looking grey in the light of the hallway. “"After while, crocodile."

"Too-da-loo, kangaroo." You reached down, squeezing his hand.

"Gotta go, buffalo." You squeezed back.

"Give me a hug, ladybug." He moved forward and pulled you into another hug and kissed the top of your head again.

"Take care, polar bear." You squeezed him tighter. He laughed, before pushing you into the classroom, your parents waving once last time before they disappeared down the hall and out the doors of Kilton Grammar. You were officially alone.

You scanned the classroom, eyes flitting to new faces you had never seen before, your hands were shaking in front of you, and you could feel your heart hammering in your chest. You hated the first day of school. Hated it.

“Oi” a soft voice flitted behind your ear, you turned taking in a young boy, his stature was just few inches taller than you, and you noticed the way his hair was dark and neatly pushed back. His dark brown eyes seemed to fill with kindness, it nearly radiated of him in waves. His eyes were soft as they laid on you, like he knew how hard your day had already been. “I’m Sal, Would you like to sit with me? I’m not much of a good talker but my mum says I can listen very well”.

At first you felt the overwhelming feeling of shame fill your chest, you were eight years old not some toddler, but Sal didn’t seem to mind. In fact his smile was wide and calm as he kept his eyes on you. Like a secure hug, and you knew at that exact moment that Sal Singh would be a friend you would never forget. He was still as he waited for you, his cheeks a red shade as you gave him a shy smile. His cheeks reddened, You shook his extended hand, offering your name. He smiled, his eyes alight. “I like your name, sounds like some fairytale character. Much better than what my mum picked. Sal” he retorted, his mouth lifting in disgust. “Not much of a name is it?” He joked.

You took your seat next to his, smiling when he held out an extra pencil. You quickly learned that Sal was smart, clever in the way he spoke. He was more mature than the other kids that sat behind you. He spoke about his mother and father, his baby brother who he adored to bits, Ravi his name was. you couldn’t help but feel like Sal had somehow in his own way, came to your rescue. Like some Angel sent to make your day better. Brighter, jovial.

“Would you mind if we sat together in the canteen?” He had nervously asked, his fingers bending his pencil, like he was waiting for you to run off and never speak to him again. “I wouldn’t sit with anyone else even if I could. I haven’t had a proper introduction to anyone else” you secretly whispered, and Sal’s eyes lit up, his dark eyes reminding you of the bark on the sycamore tree back home. “Wicked” he spoke. “I can introduce you to some friends if you’d like” he spoke, and before you could object he was calling names you’d never heard before.

“Emma! Chloe!” He called, and soon two new girls your age trotted over. Emma eyed you as Sal introduced you, she was shy. You could tell by the way she stood, her feet not quite touching. Lopsided.

“I’m Emma Hutton!” She greeted out, bellowing her name like she was some star in a film. You laughed, shaking her hand. Narcissism tendencies much? “Do you like hamsters?” The girl beside Emma questioned, her voice so high pitched it ricocheted of the walls. Before you could answer Emma was answering for you, “of course she does Chloe!! I was so jealous when Andie got one last summer holiday! And for what?”.

Your heart rattled against your rib cage at the girls name. Come to think of it you hadn’t seen Andie on the way to school, “Andie gets everything she wants because she’s a daddy’s girl”. Chloe sniped back, “As long as she’s the perfect obedient little girl her papa will cave for anything” Emma spoke, huddling up next to you and whispering like it was a big secret no one else should tell.

Curiosity killed the cat, you had seen Andie’s reaction to the mention of her father, had seen her tense and run off. That didn’t seem like the typical “Daddy’s girl” the girls had been referring to but before you could ask it was Sal who beat you too it. “We shouldn’t talk about Andie behind her back. It’s gossiping. Andie wouldn’t like it, and neither do I.”

“Oh come on Sal!” Chloe began, “even you have to admit that Andie gets everything she wants! She never has to work for it”. You could already detect some odd system of hierarchy. All you knew was you didn’t like it, it made something pull in your stomach. Your conscience telling you it wasn’t right. Yet you couldn’t pull away. It was Andie they were talking about.

You watched as Sal’s eyebrows rose, eying both girls. It seemed he was the mediator of the group, the moral compass. “So what of Andie is given everything? Money and gifts aren’t everything girls. And I wouldn’t joke about Andie’s father, it’s not easy being a bell” he stated, his shoulders deflating like he knew something. A glint in his dark eyes. You willed yourself to follow him back to the desks. Waiting beside the boy as he breathed. Simple sigh, he chucked softly, “sorry about the girls. They think they know everyone’s business.” You were about to say something when he spoke, “Andie was right about you. You have a kind heart” he spoke, moving to lay his hand on yours. You could feel your heart race, your cheeks red. No one had ever said that before. “Takes one to know one Sal” you spoke. The smile on his face was victory enough.

As if summoned Andie had appeared through the threshold, school uniform on and tired blue watercolored eyes taking in the classroom, you tried to school your features when you caught sight of her, giving her a small smile, and you felt your heart aching when she only eyed you before walking to Chloe and Emma. You could feel your heart pummel in your chest. But as soon as you felt your eyes get teary the chair squeaked against the floorboards. Andie bell had sat next to you. You of all people. You could see Emma and Chloe let out a huff, obviously wanting Andie to sit next to them.

“Hiya y/n” she let out, her smile wide as it had been when she left your house. You had smiled back, just as wide, but Andie caught your eyes drifting back to Chloe and Emma, eyes staring daggers at you, as if you had stolen their best mate. “I wouldn’t worry about them” Andie whispered, “I sat with them all last year and it didn’t do me any good. Thought I’d sit with you for a change”.

“I’d like that very much” you uttered.

“Good. Because I like you y/n” she said so matter of factly. The words made your cheeks heat up. Andie bell liked you. What a privilege your eight year old mind thought.

Andie had a glint in her eye, the kind that made your stomach twist and your innocent mind twist with fascination, she was a character that was for sure. You had seen the way Chloe and Emma has stood up the minute that Andie had walked in. Like some toppled toy soldiers standing up at attention at the first sign of the commanding officer. Andie had only eyed them as she passed, stopping to say something to Chloe, you had been to far to hear, but it obviously left Chloe with a sour expression on her face. You knew from your first introduction that Andie came from a toxic house, you had met a lot of them moving around so much. But none of them had taking a liking to you, no matter how hard you had tried, expect Andie.

Andie eyed you with her wide childish eyes, “you know mum told me that I should start hanging out with nicer girls. Chloe and Emma are all good and well but-“ Andie halted, her jaw set in a square. Tiny brain trying to make out a sentence. “Your kind. We could use a bit of that. How would you like to join our group y/n?”.

Now looking back you almost wish you could drag your eight year old self back and tell her that this group was not what you had thought it was. That this group would one day leave you high and dry. Dump you like wasted trash in the bin. That it would hurt just as much coming from the eight year old blonde who had looked at you that day like you were an Angel from heaven. Perhaps she had, but those days were gone now.

Andie’s invitation was simple. her eyes wide and pleading. You nodded, and just like that, you stepped into her orbit. In class, she claimed the seat next to you, her pencil case spilling over. “Oops,” she’d say, brushing her knuckles against yours. “Clumsy me.” You found you didn’t mind how many times it would fall into your desk, in fact you wished it had happened more. It was a confusing thought. You remember asking your parents about it on the car ride home. Your dad had nearly stepped on the gas pedal too hard, and your mum had eyed him like they knew something you hadn’t recognized yet.

Andie’s brashness was legendary. She wielded sarcasm like a sword, her words cutting through the air. But you saw beyond the armor—the tremor in her hands when someone mentioned her father, the way her laughter sometimes cracked at the edges. You were surprised when she would eye you with soft eyes, her words far more kinder and softer which was different from the standoffish Girl who had fallen of her bike.

Chloe and Emma eyed you with suspicion, their accents dripping with skepticism. “What’s so special about you?” Chloe would ask, her freckled nose wrinkling. “Andie’s never been this clingy.”

Andie’s soft spot for you was evident. She’d slide into the seat next to you during classes, her elbows brushing against yours. Emma scowled from across the room, but Andie ignored her, whispering secrets to you instead. “Did you know,” she’d say, “that the periodic table is like a giant puzzle? I’ve cracked it, you know. Hydrogen and helium are the corner pieces.” That alone had almost surprised you, Andie didn’t seem like the type of student to study hard. But she had. Sometimes all night. Anything to get away from her parents fighting in the other room and perhaps she had done so because she had seen you looking at the periodic chart a little too long during library hours. You were clever as well. Andie didn’t understand the feeling, she’s never felt it before. This feeling in her gut that made her want to please you.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Andie, stop geeking out.”

But you loved it—the way Andie’s eyes sparkled when she talked about her hamster Roadie, the way she shared her lunchtime sandwich without hesitation often sneaking an extra Jaffa cake just for you. She wasn’t mean to you like she was to Chloe and Emma. Instead, she’d pass notes during maths, doodling random thoughts and questions. She’d ask you questions about what you thought of her outfit, would gleam when you would say she looked wonderful.

Outside of School you and Andie would meet each other by the sycamore tree. “You really weren’t lying when you said it was big” Andie had spoken, her blonde brows raised as she eyed the tree. “You mean you haven’t seen it?” You asked, chuckling. How had Andie not seen it after all these years of living on Hogg hill?

Andie could see your confused amused eyes and she only chuckled sardonically her usual hint of cruel ness left out as she eyed you, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess I never was a much of an observer” her reply was.

“You want to climb it with me?” You asked, grabbing Andie by her shoulders. Excitement bursted out of your veins and the thought of being so high up in the air with Andie Bell. Andie was never afraid of anything, you had known her for a while now. She was the queen bee of the group, confident, alarmingly confident. You had seen her dig sharp mean replies to Emma and Chloe like it was the most easiest thing in the world. So it confused you when she eyed the tree with less than enthusiastic eyes.

“I think we would be much safer on the ground. Less likey to break a bone…or a nail” she commented.

Behind that comment had been fear. You knew that. With soft eyes you came closer to the girl, your shoulders brushing.

“It’s alright to be scared” you spoke. “Being scared means your human. My mum always says that being scared is like a superpower” you laughed. You had never thought that true, till now.

Andie had eyed you with wide unbelieving eyes. Her signature smile on her features.

“Everything in that sentence was wrong. How is being scared like a superpower? If anything being scared is a weakness”.

You knew she believed her words. Was it her father who had told her that? You hadn’t met her father yet. He seemed far to scary, too quiet for your liking. Like he was watching, observing. Your father had met him. “Jason Bell offered to take me golfing next week. He seems like a kind bloke.” But you had seen how his daughter reacted to just his name alone and right then in your eight year old mind you had tagged him as dangerous.

In the end Andie Bell had climbed the tree with you. It didn’t take much hackle, and you were surprised when she had climbed even faster than you. The tree was high up and you could tell from the way Andie’s fingers clung to the bark, her nails digging into the tree trunk with a true fervor.

You watched her gray eyes take in the scene. The wind was soft this time of day. The birds flying past. Little Kilton was no longer a mystery. Andie could see everything. Could feel everything. The sky which was a darker cloudy color. The surrounding woods nearby, the old farmhouse that was deserted that in a few years would become infamous to her.

“Are you still scared?” You has asked.

Andie had scoffed, “why would I be scared? I’m only a few hundred feet of the ground! My father would kill me if he saw me up here this high” Andie spoke, her eyes taking in the view from bellow.

You settled in next to her. Your shoulders brushing hers. Andie’s fingers had made their way down to lay next to yours. Inches apart.

The silence had been what you remembered the most. Pure silence. Nothing but the wind and the soft sounds of Little Kilton bellow. Andie was different up here. With you. The silence seemed to awake something in her.

“My dad never hits me”. The words hit you like a freight train.

“What does he do then?” You asked, watching as Andie’s eyes began to tear.

“He-I know he loves me. Mum says he does. But sometimes I’m not so sure. Sometimes I think he’d rather be somewhere else.”

“Sometimes I think I’m not good enough. Doesn’t matter what marks I get on an exam, he’s always angry. Always quick to yell. He says such mean things. Cruel things. He thinks it doesn’t hurt me…but it does. I try to brush it off, to remember he loves me. But…sometimes I can’t”.

You don’t pry. You hadn’t noticed Andie’s fingers had inched closer and closer to yours till they were touching. Your stomach lurched and you immediately could feel your cheeks flush. It took a second but Andie wiped her tears.

“What was it you were saying? About scared being a superpower?” Andie changed the subject.

You let your eyes look bellow, watching as both your feet dangled of the branch, feet upon feet of air bellow.

Andie looked down too, her eyes widened, her fingers gripping yours a little tighter.

You licked your lips, “does it scare you?” You spoke, eying bellow. Gravity and the tree were all that stopped you two from tumbling down.

Andie nodded.

“Good. My mum told me that’s good. Because your heart is beating so hard..you can almost feel it in your palms. Blood and oxygen is pumping though your brain, think of it like rocket fuel” you laughed. “Right now you can run faster and fight harder. You can jump higher than you’ve ever jumped! It’s almost like you can slow down time. I’d wager that the scariest girl up here is you”.

Andie had laughed. “Chloe and Emma would agree with you”.

You must have sat up on that three for hours. Just you and Andie. You spoke of your time in London. How the streets were always crowded and the kids in your school weren’t any better. You spoke of your grandparents, how your gran always made the best Yorkshire pudding. Andie had smiled at that, saying she was pretty sure her gran made the best Yorkshire pudding.

It was only when a small voice from bellow caught your attention. Andie’s eyes had trailed down and suddenly she sighed, “it’s almost supper time. We’ve been up here for hours. We better get down and wash up”.

You nodded, not quite ready to go down back to real life. Back home. You could tell Andie thought the same. Could see it in the way she took one last look at little Kilton. “Thanks for this” she spoke.

“I’ve never had a friend like you before”.

You smiled, your little heart beating in your chest.

“I’ve never had one quite like you either Andie Bell”.

You let Andie go down first, following behind. It was only when your trainers hit the ground that you noticed the small blonde who had been calling Andie from bellow. You almost laughed. Andie had described her little sister well enough to you. You knew she loved her, no matter how oddly she showed it.

Becca Bell stood staring at the tree in wonder, blonde waves looking like she had just awoken from a nap. Her arms eagerly holding a small hamster in her soft fingers. The hamster looked calm, didn’t put up a fight. Perhaps he had known it wasn’t going to help.

“Andie! Mum wants you home for supper! That tree looks high! Did you almost fall off? Can I climb it?” Becca chatted of like a broken record. You couldn’t help but laugh at her cute little face.

Andie dusted her pants trousers, eyes on alert as she spotted what was lodged between her little sisters hands. “Becca Elizabeth Bell what have I told you about taking Roadie outside his cage!” Andie began, taking the hamster from her younger sisters hands, you watched as the little creature huddled into Andie’s warm hands.

Becca didn’t at all seem bothered by her sisters antics, you assumed she was use to her outbursts and spurts of emotions. She only shrugged her shoulders, “I know what you told me Andie but you should have seen the poor little things! He was thrashing against his bars like mad!! Mum let me take him out because his chattering was making her ill”.

“Is this your special friend Andie!! The one you told mum about? Are you the girl who helped Andie after she fell off her bike? I’m Becca!! I like candy floss and I have a hamster named Toadie!” She squealed of, making you smile. You adored her already.

“Pleasure to meet you miss Bell!” You shook her hand, and she smiled, blushing. “I like you. All of Andie’s friends are quite rude to me. Except Sal. I like him. Do you know Sal?”.

“I do. He’s a very lovely person. Very kind”.

“Can you teach me how to climb that tree?? Ooh! Can you play a game of what time is it Mr wolf?? Andie never plays with me” at this the small blonde loved forward, her eyes mischievous, “She’s a bit of a sore loser! Hates losing”.

You hid in your laughter. Andie had caught on and immediately took you by the hand, putting enough distance from her little sister, “y/n has no time to play childish games with you Becca. She’s my friend! Not yours!”.

You would have loved to hear those words if were not for the fact that Becca looked hurt. Her blue eyes had dropped and her bottom lip trembled. You slowly unhooked your hands from Andie’s. Giving her a pointed look.

“No need for a cry Becca” you began, instinctively you reached out for her, pulling her to your chest. Becca immediately wrapped her arms around you, “so you’ll play with me then?” She looked beyond happy.

You smiled.

“Of course! And Andie will play too, won’t you Andie?”

She just grumbled.

[sloanerisette]

Digimon 02 Countdown Day 2 - Jogress: What You Are To Me

Happy 02 Countdown! Big shoutouts to @zuzsenpai for putting @digimon02countdown together, and I'm really happy I had a chance to finish this for it! I'm not exactly the happiest with it (am I ever with any of my work) but I got the Miyakari itch and really wanted to do something and this idea came to mind quickly. It's a bit of drama, a bit of longing, and a lot of yuri between the girls. I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: With Yolei so busy studying around the world, Kari has had fewer and fewer chances to spend time with her DNA Digivolution partner. When she finally has the chance to stop by India, though, she has to deal with the fact that her precious time with Yolei is going to be split with her new roommate, too. Kari's not sure how she feels, but she knows she doesn't feel great about it.

I'll post the whole thing here, but you can also read it on AO3 here!

---

“Are you finally ready to go? You’ve spent the last forty minutes figuring out what you want to wear and what you want to bring and we still have to go through the Digital World!”

Kari smoothed out the skirt she had just put on, unable to help but frown as she looked at herself in the mirror. It felt like no matter what outfit she put on, nothing looked as nice as she wanted, and each time she put something on she took it off just as quickly in hopes of finding something better.

She wasn’t even entirely sure why she was feeling like this in the first place. She was just visiting Yolei. Sure, they hadn’t had a chance to hang out in person in a month and a half now, but that didn’t mean she had to dress to impress by any means. Gatomon waited with bated breath, waiting from her spot curled up on the bed as Kari stared at herself in silence.

“Just let me try one more outfit,” Kari finally said before she scurried off to the closet, footsteps padding gently against the wood floor. Gatomon sighed and shook her head as Kari disappeared into her small closet, but thankfully it wasn’t long until she popped out. Kari was now wearing a grey shirt with a cute pink cat design on it and some faded jeans. As Kari walked to the mirror, her stomach churned with discomfort.

She still wasn’t entirely happy with it, not by any means, but it would have to do. She had already taken far too long, and even if Yolei wouldn’t mind if she was a little late, the time difference was still enough that Kari didn’t want to risk losing out on what precious little time she’d have with her DNA Digivolution partner and her best girl friend.

“I’m ready,” Kari said to her Digimon partner, voice cracking slightly. She couldn’t lie, her nerves were getting to her a bit, for a reason she wished she could identify. She tried to swallow down that anxiety, if only so Gatomon wouldn’t get worried. And hopefully she would be relaxed enough by the time they met up with Yolei.

Gatomon opened one eye, looking her partner up and down.

“If you get another cat shirt, I should be on it,” the Digimon said. That was enough to make Kari giggle.

“Well, I can see. Do you have any merchandise I don’t know about?” Kari teased gently. She reached over to her desk and grabbed her smartphone before picking up her bag from the floor. Gatomon gracefully leapt onto Kari’s shoulder as Kari leaned down to get the Digital Gate set up on her computer.

“You excited to see Hawkmon again?” Kari asked as she tapped the enter key.

“Yeah! So let’s go!” Gatomon cheered. Kari held up her phone, and in a literal flash, the two were gone.

Thankfully, the trip through the Digital World to the gate they had to get to was simple enough, and the walk along the plains with a gentle breeze blowing past her served to help her calm down.

As she arrived at the old CRT in question, she pulled out her phone to text Yolei.

[Kamiya Kari]: We’re here!

[Inoue Yolei]: Awesome! I’ll open up the gate for you!

Kari smiled to herself, unable to help but bounce on the balls of her feet. The last time they hung out one on one they had only barely finished lunch before they had to handle a Digimon that made its way into the real world. Taking it down had been a pain and after that, she got called in because a coworker called in sick. But now there would be nothing interrupting their hangout time. She held out her smartphone, and in a flash, she was gone.

“You’re here!”

As the bright light finally faded, there was Yolei, latching onto her with the tightest hug imaginable. Kari choked and laughed, returning the hug. Gatomon barely managed to jump off her partner’s shoulder just before Yolei collided with her.

“I missed you I missed you I missed youuuuuuuuuu!” Yolei cried out, burying her face into the crook of Kari’s neck. Warmth spread throughout Kari, her stomach doing a flip at the sudden, intense show of affection. Kari gently patted Yolei’s back.

“I missed you too,” she said quietly. She missed her so much that just saying she missed her didn’t feel like enough. The embrace held for another minute, before Yolei shook her a bit and let go. She bounced back a step and held her arms in the air.

“Welcome to India!” she shouted. Kari couldn’t help but laugh at the bright smile on her friend’s face, and her infectious energy had the weird anxiety slowly melting away.

“Thanks for inviting me!”

“Of course! And it’s so great to see you, Gatomon!”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Gatomon smiled.

“Is that our guests I hear?” Hawkmon asked from down the hall. He rounded the corner and upon seeing the two, was just as ecstatic as Yolei was. “Oh! I’m so happy to see you two! We’ve been waiting all week for this,” Hawkmon cried out. He flapped over to their guests, landing in front of Gatomon and offering her a hug.

“It’s great to see you too, Hawkmon,” Gatomon said, barely able to stop herself from being bowled over, then hugged her DNA Digivolution partner back. She patted her ears, making sure there was no fur out of place.

“So, what do you wanna do?” Kari asked. “Any big plans you’ve been scheming?” If there was one thing she knew about Yolei, it was the fact that she could (and would) go to any length to come up with something extravagant to do. It had always been something to be wary of in high school— there were a small handful of times Yolei had texted Kari to come over that led to her dragging her to a party— but a part of Kari had missed it, just a little bit.

But a part of her also hoped that Yolei didn’t find any parties to crash…

“I mean, I’ve had a few ideas,” she grinned in that oh so classic Yolei fashion.

“Hopefully non-dangerous ideas?” Kari teased. Yolei took on a look of faux offense, placing her hand on her chest.

“Me? Pitch a dangerous idea? Why, I would never!”

Kari playfully rolled her eyes, doing her hardest to hold back laughter which was currently threatening to erupt from her. However, she couldn’t stay strong for too long, before she nearly doubled over with laughter. Yolei followed suit as soon as she saw just how hard her best friend was laughing. Their Digimon watched on in amusement as the two young women slowly started to recover, gasping for breath and wiping tears from their eyes.

As happy as Kari was for Yolei to be enjoying her university years studying around the world and meeting so many people, she still couldn’t wait for her to hopefully one day come back to Japan so they could be able to spend more time together just like this.

“So, what’s the big plan for today then? It’s not like I have to be back for work or class until tomorrow,” Kari smiled.

“Oh! Well there’s this killer restaurant that we have to go to! Have you ever had Indian food before?” Yolei asked.

“Well, uh… I had some little microwave meal from a convenience store once…” Kari admitted sheepishly. Yolei’s jaw dropped and her eyes went wide.

“Kari!” she shouted, clapping her hands on her shoulders, “That doesn’t even remotely count! Oh my god! We have to fix this!”

Yolei put the back of her hand on her forehead as she let out a long, drawn out sigh, in utter disbelief at her friend’s words.

“You make it sound like I’ve committed a crime not having real Indian food!” Kari laughed.

“Because it is! Seriously, it is going to change. Your. Life,” Yolei assured her while she bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Ok, ok, let’s go then!” Kari said.

“We can’t go yet. We have to wait for Mina!”

“Mina?”

She hadn’t meant to say it, it had just come out. Tumbled off her tongue without realizing it. Yolei let out a chuckle.

“Mina? My roommate? You were the one who met her back in 2002.” she said. Kari blinked.

“No, no, I know who she is,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat up. She just… hadn’t expected her to come along on what was supposed to be their day. She wasn’t sure why it threw her off so much, or why she felt so weird over being thrown off over it. Realizing she had said nothing, she playfully stuck her tongue out at Yolei, who returned the gesture.

However, she still hadn’t said anything, and her neurons were firing trying to piece the right words together for what she wanted to say.

“I just… didn’t think she’d be coming, is all,” she finally finished, trailing off weakly as she glanced away.

“She’s been looking forward to it too!” Yolei told her.

Kari swallowed, forcing a tight smile onto her face.

“Can’t wait.”

It didn’t take long for the door knob to turn, and when it did, Yolei just about launched from her seat, running over as Mina and Meramon walked through the doorway.

“You’re back!” Yolei shouted, causing the bag of groceries to nearly spill from her arms at the loud surprise.

“I told you it wouldn’t be that long— oh, Kari!” Mina smiled brightly, “I didn’t realize you got here already! We’ll just put these away quick and we can get going!”

“Oh, no need to rush on my account,” Kari assured her with a small wave.

“Oh, it’s no big deal, it’ll be quick,” Mina said before she forced two bags into Yolei’s arms.

“Hey!”

“I know your friend just got here but you can help me put stuff away!” Mina chided teasingly. Yolei let out a dramatic sigh to Kari before she stomped over to the kitchen. Kari kept that same smile on her face as her stomach rolled again.

She had no doubt Mina was going to be fun to hang out with, but…

She shook her head to try and shake that thought away so she could focus on a good day with Yolei.

As the two girls went into the kitchen, talking and giggling to themselves, Kari stared at them from the other room, unable to help but start to wring her hands together.

“Hey Gatomon, do you think—”

Yolei would prefer to have Mina as her DNA Digivolution partner?

“—They’ll have something to eat that won’t be too spicy for me?”

Gatomon squinted up at her partner curiously, then her ears flicked, “Well, you can probably get your own pitcher of water just in case,” Gatomon said.

That was enough to cause a genuine chuckle to bubble from Kari’s lips.

“Thanks, Gatomon.”

“You ready to go?” Yolei asked loudly as she hopped over to Kari. Mina shook her head as she walked over.

“She’s always got so much energy. I don’t know how you’re able to handle it,” Mina teased gently, dusting her hands off and folding her arms as she gave her roommate an amused, teasing look. Yolei rolled her eyes and waved her off.

“Psh, you love it. You wouldn’t be having nearly as much fun without me around,” Yolei said as she bumped Mina’s hip. The two laughed together, and Kari couldn’t help but feel so… awkward as she just stood there. “Anyways, let’s go! I’m starving!”

“You’re always starving,” Mina said as Yolei looped arms with the two others and quickly burst out the front door with them in tow.

The restaurant Yolei chose was packed, and the three girls were sat at a tiny table in a corner, huddled together both for space and to be able to easily hear each other. Kari was taking a drink of water while Yolei and Mina began to laugh.

“I still can’t believe you did that! Seriously, Kari, you should’ve been there for that,” Mina said as she finally calmed down.

“Oh, come on, you’re making me sound bad!” Yolei gasped, “So I snuck in late one time! You can’t even talk because you helped!”

Kari sat there quietly, feeling like she was sitting at another table overhearing a conversation, not actually invited along to lunch.

“Well, if you do it again, I’m only doing it if you pay for dinner,” Mina said.

“Oh, believe me, I have the money for it. You’re stuck,” Yolei told her, raising an eyebrow and smirking as if to challenge Mina for a response.

Kari wracked her brain, wanting to bring up some story about her and Yolei to bring up, or even just thinking of something to interject with to join the conversation easier, but she couldn’t think of anything. Plus, with Yolei’s energy, getting a word in at all wasn’t always easy.

However, she was saved by the arrival of their food, with plates and many, many pieces of naan being set on the table. Kari had to stop herself from outwardly drooling at how delicious it looked and smelled. “Oh… I can’t wait to try this,” Kari said with a sigh.

“Butter chicken is the perfect place to start,” Mina smiled, “Make sure you eat it with the naan, though!”

Mina ripped off a piece of naan and dunked it into her own food, then took a bite. Yolei followed suit.

“I need to see your first bite. I need to see your face,” she said while she chewed. Kari flushed slightly as Yolei focused on her. But she did as Yolei insisted, tearing off a piece of delicious smelling naan and dunking it in her butter chicken and scooping some up, glancing up and then back down a few times as she was about to take a bite. She finally did, though, and her eyes went wide. Her jaw dropped, and she couldn’t help but laugh gently once she swallowed.

“This is…”

“Yeah?” Yolei asked, voice full of excitement.

Kari couldn’t help herself, and she went to take another bite, covering her mouth as she chewed.

“This is so good.”

“Yes! I knew you’d love it! I told you that it would change your life!” Yolei grinned. Kari nodded.

“You were right!” she laughed. It was delicious, and she was glad to have Yolei there for such a “major moment.”

“I’m glad you like it! This is one of our favorite places to go to, so Yolei figured it was the obvious place to take you,” Mina told her.

It wasn’t just the food that filled her with warmth, but the fact that Yolei wanted to take her there.

But then she froze.

It was one of their favorite places to go. Kari was just coming along with them.

She tried to push past it, but even as she ate such a delicious meal and shared laughs with the two, she couldn’t help but replay those words over and over in her head. Even as badly as she didn’t want to.

By the time the meal was done, Kari still had a decent portion left, both due to the massive size and the fact that eventually the stress left her with no appetite.

“Hey, Kari, you mind if I take the rest of your food? I could go for lunch tomorrow,” she said with a big grin that Kari wasn’t sure if Yolei realized just how charming it was.

“Sure,” she smiled, passing her plate over to her so Yolei could put it in a takeout container along with what little remained of her own meal.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to leave?” Mina asked, nodding to the container Yolei was tapping her fingers on.

“What else are Digital Gates for? Trust me, I’ll be back so much,” she grinned.

“You should come visit Japan sometime. I’m sure there’s some great places we could take you to,” Kari said.

“Oh, I’d love that. That would be a ton of fun,” Mina smiled.

Yolei leaned back in her seat, “So, what do you guys wanna do next? It’s still early! And it’s even earlier for Kari! We can hit up a club or a bar or something?” Yolei suggested. Now that was the Yolei she knew. Kari laughed weakly.

“I dunno if I’m up for all of that,” she said. Yolei let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Ok, ok. Do you wanna just hang back at our place?” she asked.

“Please,” Kari said. Frankly that was all she could’ve asked for after a good meal.

“One day I’ll get you two to get out there and party some more,” Yolei teased.

Thankfully, Yolei had desisted, and the group of them went back to Mina and Yolei’s place to relax. The next few hours were filled with watching TV and talking, although Kari was still on the quiet side. It was something that Gatomon noticed, but said nothing about, instead enjoying time sitting with Kari and receiving some scratches behind the ears. It was hard for Kari to stay focused on what was on the TV with how much was on her mind, and every so often her eyes flitted over towards Yolei, who would get caught up in laughing over some tech thing being completely wrong.

A few hours later, and the sun was slowly starting to set, casting orange light on all three girls and their Digimon. Kari couldn’t help but stare just a bit at the way Yolei seemed to glow. She looked away once Hawkmon looked her way and cleared her throat.

“I… think I’m gonna go— I need to go. I have a few things I need to get ready for tomorrow…” she said sheepishly. Yolei’s jaw dropped.

“Aww, noooo! C’mon! Can you stay a little longer? Pleeeeeease?” Yolei begged.

“I’m sorry, I really should get going… it’s an early day tomorrow,” Kari sighed.

“I’d suggest staying for dinner but I think we all ate too much to even think about dinner,” Mina laughed. Kari couldn’t help but chuckle weakly.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for inviting me, though. I had a lot of fun.”

“You’re welcome here anytime you want,” Mina said.

“Yeah! Seriously, our home is your home,” Yolei told her.

“Thanks,” Kari said simply, getting up to give both of them a hug, itching to get out of there and give herself some time to sit with herself and think. Yolei’s frown was deep as she got up to open the Digital Gate on her computer.

“We gotta make plans to hang out again soon, ok? Promise?” Yolei asked as she held up her phone to open up the gate.

“Of course. You know I love spending time with you,” Kari said, then looked over at the gate. Yolei wrapped her arms around her in one last, tight hug, before Kari and Gatomon disappeared into the Digital World.

As the two walked along the bright, grassy plains of the Digital World, Gatomon looked up at Kari.

“You didn’t have a good time today, did you?” she asked with a frown. Kari’s eyes went wide.

“No, I did! It’s just…” she sighed and shook her head, “I don’t know. I just miss when we would hang out, I guess,” she shrugged. Gatomon frowned and gently patted Kari’s leg.

“You two will have more time to hang out once she’s back,” her Digimon assured her.

Kari wanted to believe that, but with how excited Yolei was to be out there— even if she had invited her to come back— she wasn’t sure she could believe that they’d be spending as much time together.

“Thanks Gatomon,” Kari said. As the two continued on, Gatomon’s ears twitched as she heard the sound of blades of grass crunching against footsteps behind them, quickly approaching. Gatomon turned to look behind her, a smile on her face.

“Heeeeeeeeeey! Kariiiiiiiiii!”

Kari whipped around, jaw dropped as she saw Yolei barreling towards her. The lavender-haired woman tried to skid to a stop, but bowled into Kari, who was barely able to catch her and keep them both standing. She wrapped her arms around her best friend to steady her, unable to stop the swarm of butterflies that started flapping around again at how close they were to each other. Kari took a step back, separating the two of them, as she looked at Yolei.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked.

“I was just kind of worried… you seemed kind of off today. Are you ok?” she asked.

“I-I’m not— I wasn’t—” she stammered, stopping when Yolei placed a hand on her shoulder.

“C’mon, I’m your DNA Digivolution partner. Maybe I can’t ‘hear your heartbeat’ like Ken and Davis can do with each other, but I know when something’s wrong,” she said, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Oh, well…” Kari trailed off, unsure of what to say. What could she say without sounding bad.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” she paused, “Did I do something wrong?” Yolei bit her lip as she tried to get a hint at what was wrong by examining her face very carefully.

“No! No, it’s not you, I just…”

She had to be honest. She was scared— terrified, even— to be honest, but it would be for the best. She just had to be brave enough. It was Yolei, even, who both inspired and taught her how to better speak up for herself and how she felt.

“I just hope it doesn’t backfire now of all times…” she thought, swallowing down a lump in her throat.

“I wish that we spent more time together today. Just the two of us,” Kari said slowly, unable to help but cringe. She felt so childish admitting it, but at the same time, getting it off her chest was a small relief.

“I mean, I wasn’t just going to ignore Mina or not invite her or anything,” Yolei frowned as she folded her arms. Kari felt her face heat up and her stomach dropped. This was exactly what she feared.

“No! No no no, I didn’t mean not invite her! It’s just that… well, before you were in Spain, and then you went to India right after. Now we’re both so busy and with the time difference we don’t have nearly as many chances to talk or hang out,” she said, “And I just… miss you. A lot.”

Tears started to well up at the corners of Yolei’s eyes and she tried to blink them away. Kari saw, but didn’t say anything.

“I guess I just hoped that today would be a day for the two of us. Like when we were back in high school.”

Sleepovers, running to the convenience store for snacks after school, long text conversations when one of them was bored with schoolwork, or fun trips to the Digital World. All of the things Kari missed, even though she knew that things wouldn’t just be able to stay like that forever.

“I didn’t realize… I’m sorry, Kari. I wish you said something,” Yolei said. She wasted no time in holding onto Kari again. Kari held her back as her own tears started to spill down her face. She could hear Yolei sniffle, too, the waterworks undoubtedly pouring on her end, too.

“Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t want us to grow apart,” Kari told her, her voice muffled by the way her face was buried into her shoulder.

“That does sound ridiculous,” Yolei laughed weakly between sniffles, pulling back just enough to look at Kari.

“You’re sure?” Kari asked, her voice shaking, “You don’t wish you had a different DNA Digivolution partner or whatever?”

Yolei scoffed and shook her head, “Someone other than you? Never. There’s no one I could want as a partner more than you.”

Kari’s stomach did a flip at that simple statement, wanting nothing more than to hear it again.

“There’s no one I want as a partner more than you, either,” Kari whispered. Everything felt startlingly still and silent as the two looked into each other’s eyes, and Kari could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

“Can I…” Kari whispered.

“Kiss me?” Yolei asked, “Please.”

“How did you…”

“Know? I dunno, maybe it was just our connection as partners,” she smiled. The two leaned in and kissed, something soft, sweet, and simple. It was perfect, and all Kari could’ve asked for. When the two pulled away, Kari was bright red.

“That was… I liked that,” she giggled.

“Me too,” Yolei grinned.

“I’m… sorry. About everything. I should’ve said something sooner,” Kari sighed. Yolei poked her gently in the cheek.

“You should have. But it’s ok. I get it. I mean, look who I am. Next time we make plans, we’ll make them for just us then, how about that?” she suggested. Kari nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” she smiled. The two continued to look at each other with goofy smiles on their faces.

“Text me when you get back, ok?” Yolei asked, finally breaking the serene silence.

“But it’s not a long trip? Or dangerous?” Kari said, tilting her head in confusion.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna talk to you. Especially after that,” Yolei winked. Her smile grew when she saw Kari blush again.

“Yeah, ok, I will,” she said, nodding repeatedly. They waved goodbye to each other, and Yolei turned to head back to the gate that she came from. Once she disappeared, Kari and Gatomon went on their way back to the gate that would take them home.

“So, are you feeling better now?” Gatomon asked. Kari let out a content sigh.

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“And at least I won’t have to find someone else to DNA Digivolve with,” Gatomon joked.

“You’ll still have Hawkmon and I’ll still have Yolei,” Kari hummed.

“I guess maybe we aren’t *just* DNA Digivolution partners now.”

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 13

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 3066

Warnings: None

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks. Also, sorry it's taken so long - life has gotten in the way and I haven't had a chance to write as much :(

Chapter Songs: My Tears Ricochet Hits Different

****

Ghost

The storm raged through most of the night, and Ghost watched it for hours, unable to sleep. Despite her steady voice and relatively calm demeanor, Juliette's fainting freaked her out, and her anxiety took its time going down. It didn't help to have Hangman in the room next to her, so close yet so far, nor the knowledge that he still recognized her tells, although the chamomile had helped calm her nerves. 

Finally, around three a.m., Ghost fell into a light sleep, but nightmares plagued her dreams. Her conscience found particular pleasure in making her relive the accident over and over again. Ghost woke up from them each time, paralyzed in grief and with pain shooting throughout her limbs. The PTSD had lessened significantly since the accident, but certain events and people triggered small recurrences, and Jake 'Hangman' Seresin was a major factor. 

After a fitful night's sleep, Ghost forced herself up at eight and decided to head home. Switching out of the pajamas Juliette so kindly lent to her and back into her own clothes, Ghost shuffled into the hallway and down to the kitchen. Rooster moved surprisingly quietly, considering he'd received his callsign because of the God-awful hour he woke up at and his uncanny ability to make noise no matter how hard he tried not to.

"What are you going to make?" Ghost queried, peering over the counter. 

Rooster jumped, the pan he held flying out of his hand. He flailed about trying to catch it, but it ended up clattering loudly to the floor. He stared in dismay at the pan. "Well, so much for not waking anyone."

"Sorry, I thought you heard me come in," Ghost said sheepishly, picking up the cookware and handing it to him. 

Rooster snorted. "Please. No one hears you coming."

"Then you're not doing it right," Hangman's husky voice remarked. Despite the evident fact he'd literally rolled out of bed (or the couch) moments ago- judging by his annoyingly sexy bedhead and sleepy expression- he still managed to smirk cheekily at them. Ghost grabbed the pan from Rooster and bonked Hangman on the head. He rubbed it ruefully. "Joking, joking."

"No, you weren't," Rooster replied, taking the pan back from Ghost and setting it on the stove. "You two want breakfast?"

Ghost shook her head. "No, but thank you. I need to hurry home and shower before heading back out. Jackie's getting into town this morning for business, and I promised to meet her for a late breakfast before she has to go to her first meeting."

"Send Jackie my regards," Juliette said, waddling into the kitchen. "How is she?"

"Good. Looking forward to whatever deal she's trying to close this week. I'll drop in later to see how you're doing if you're free?"

"Of course. I'm not going anywhere today. I don't want Rooster prepping the nursery unsupervised-"

"I spilled paint one time," he protested, pointing firmly at her with the spatula. "And you're not helping me. Not with the pregnancy complications."

"We can debate this later. Ghost-" Juliette turned to her friend- "like I said, you're welcome to come by later."

"I appreciate it. I'll see you later then. Bye, y'all!" Waving at the group, Ghost hurried outside and hopped on her motorcycle. She sped toward her apartment, miraculously not coming across any cops. Otherwise, she certainly would've been pulled over for speeding. Taking a quick shower, drying her hair, and throwing on enough makeup to make herself presentable, Ghost darted back out the door and hopped onto her motorcycle, speeding like the Devil himself was after her and narrowly arriving at the coffee shop on time. Jackie strutted in hardly a minute later and hugged her little sister tightly, exclaiming quietly, "Oh, it's so good to see you!"

"You too! Good flight?"

"Yeah, yeah, long but good," Jackie said, pulling away and moving to the line to order coffee. "Were you waiting long for me?"

"Oh yeah, I got here ten minutes ago," Ghost lied, unable to help herself from an opportunity to mess with her big sister.

Jackie didn't fall for it. "Really? Because I swear I saw your motorcycle go blasting past me, like, a minute before I got here."

"Don't know what you're talking about. You must've imagined it."

"Uh-huh, yeah, that's what happened," Jackie replied, clearly not believing Ghost. The cheeky grin on her face probably gave it away. "So, what do you want? It's on me."

Knowing better than to argue, nor was she willing to pass up a free drink, Ghost answered. The sisters waited for their orders and, once received, maneuvered to a booth. Jackie faced the door, one of the few people Ghost trusted to do so. Their mother had taught them to always sit facing the door so they knew when and if danger approached.

"How have you been? What's been going on?" Ghost inquired, taking a sip of her tea.

Jackie shrugged. "Mainly work. Heath and I are going to Spain in a few months for our five-year anniversary. He's been dying to go back since college," she said. "What about you? How have you been now that Jake's back in the picture?"

"He's only back temporarily, and I try to avoid him as much as possible, which has turned out to be pretty difficult," Ghost replied in annoyance, going into detail about all the instances she had to be around him, including crashing at the Bradshaw's last night. "He's super close to Juliette, which I never knew. She hardly spoke about him last time we talked, so while I knew they were friendly, I didn't know they were best friends."

"You okay with it?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, that used to be you, and you still love him. Don't-" Jackie pointed a firm finger at her sister- "try to convince me otherwise."

"Even if you're wrong?"

"You mean right?"

"I said what I said, and for the record, I'm okay with it as long as he doesn't hurt her like he did me. I doubt Rooster would let him get away with it if he did, though. I don't know what to think of Jake anymore because he clearly cares for Juliette, but when she passed out yesterday, I offered to Jake to come with us to the hospital because I figured he'd want to be there for her, but no, he declined and offered to watch the dogs instead. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad someone watched Raptor and Lightning because they're Juliette's kids, canine or not, but still, I find it weird he didn't want to be with her when for all we knew, she was in critical condition."

"Why did she pass out?!"

"Something called preeclampsia. They're monitoring it to make sure it doesn't get worse, but she's okay for now. Scared the hell out of us when it happened."

"I'm glad she's okay. Send her my regards next time you see her. Do you think Jake has something against hospitals? First, he didn't see you when you were in it, now Jules."

"No. I mean, he saw Ghoul before she passed, so I don't know what the hell his problem is. He never told me."

Jackie raised an eyebrow. "Did you give him a chance to?"

"He had multiple opportunities to reach out, and he didn't until after the hearing when he knew I didn't blame him for the accident. So, no, I don't think he has a problem with hospitals."

"Have you talked to him at all since you've been here? And I'm talking civilly, not giving him sarcasm."

"A couple of times, and very briefly." Ghost dove into the story of Jake's dad's failing health, his brother being on the lam for the embezzlement, the concern of Kyle joining him, and Kyle's refusal to stop calling her. "I haven't blocked his number, so if he leaves an incriminating voicemail, I can get a restraining order if need be."

"Be careful with him," Jackie warned, eyes narrowing. "I don't like his obsession with you."

"Don't worry. California may have strict gun laws, but I always have some sort of weapon on me, and if I can't have my gun on me, then I have my knives. And yes, that's plural."

Jackie's expression contorted into confusion. "Why do you carry multiple knives?"

"Because if I'm ever attacked, and they disarm me with the first one, the last thing they're going to expect is for me to whip out a second one."

"You know what, good point. I might start doing that." Her gaze flickered over Ghost's shoulder. "Did you tell Hangman where you were going this morning?"

"I said I was getting coffee with you, but not where." Ghost narrowed her eyes at her sister. "Why?"

"You still apparently think alike because he just walked in."

Ghost whirled around, hoping it would be a lookalike of Hangman, but no, it was most definitely him. She faced her sister. "Why? Why is my life like this? This only happens in love stories, which is so not what this is."

"Or maybe it's God telling you it is, and you're refusing to see the signs. Maybe I'll help God out."

"Don you da-"

"Jake!" Jackie hollered out. Judging by the bright smile on her face, he must've heard her. She waved him over.

Ghost groaned and hissed, "I'm going to kill you."

"You can thank me at your wedding when you marry him. Here he comes. Look alive."

"If that's a pun on my callsign-"

"Hello, ladies," Hangman greeted with his signature smirk, his eyes flitting over to Ghost. She noticed a flicker of hesitance in them, along with an unspoken apology, as if he understood this was all Jackie's doing and none of hers.

Jackie stood up and hugged him. "It's so good to see you! If I didn't have to leave soon, I'd invite you to join us."

"I know better than to intrude on girl time," Hangman said, holding his hands up. "Juliette, Penny, and Phoenix taught me that."

"It's not a problem if we invite you to join us."

"I have a feeling it's more like you're inviting me. Don't think Ghost is keen to have her sister-time interrupted," Hangman said, shooting the younger Blackwood a small understanding smile.

"Well, too bad because it's been years since I've seen you. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"The Daggers and I have an air demonstration show, and then we're hanging out at the Hard Deck."

"Oh, shit, I completely forgot about that!" Ghost exclaimed, squeezing her eyes shut. "What time is it?"

"It starts at ten." An unidentified emotion flashed in his eyes. "You participating?"

"Only as a spectator."

"Ah. Jackie, you're welcome to watch the show. I can get you tickets. You can join us at the bar afterward, too, if you're not busy."

"Oh, count me in. I love hanging out with the pilots."

"That why you married one?"

Jackie chuckled. "He knows I married him for his plane."

"I can feel the love. Well, listen, I'll leave you be. Jackie, hope to see you tomorrow night. Ghost, I'll see you around." Hugging the elder Blackwood goodbye and rubbing Ghost's shoulder affectionately after a moment's hesitation, Hangman exited the coffee shop. Jackie sat down with a triumphant smile on her face, causing her sister to ask about it.

"Because I learned something in those few minutes," Jackie said. 

"Which was?" Ghost prodded.

"That he is one-hundred percent, prime time, still in love with you." She took a big swig of her coffee. "Just like I've always believed."

"Can I see your drink for a second?" Ghost asked, reaching over and taking it from her sister before she could respond. She took a sniff and swiftly handed it back.

Jackie stared at her sister in annoyance. "What the hell was that for?"

"I was trying to smell if there was alcohol in your drink because that's the only plausible explanation for your outlandish and downright absurd opinion."

"Jake was never shy around girls. The only time I've ever seen him get flustered is around you."

"I'm calling bullshit, and if you didn't have to leave, I'd go through the list of why," Ghost said, standing up and throwing on her jacket. She watched Jackie finish her drink and toss it in the trash can. "I'm going to assume you're coming tomorrow?"

"Like you even have to ask that. Are we good for dinner tonight? I was going to invite Jake but thought you might actually strangle me for that."

"You're not wrong." Ghost walked outside with Jackie, stopping at her sister's rental car. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. Jackie noticed and asked what was wrong in genuine concern. In a moment of weakness, Ghost confessed, "You were right about me still loving Jake. I do. I always have and probably always will, and honestly? It hurts to be around him because all I want to do is go back to being the friends we were, and I can tell he wants that too, but then I think of how he treated me and behaved after the accident, and it just brings back the pain, and I don't want to go through that again. I lost two friends that day."

Jackie hugged her sister sympathetically. "I understand it's hard, especially because you've never been an open person, but-" Jackie pulled away- "I mean this as gently as possible, you can't wholly blame him for the situation you two are in. You could've confronted him sooner, but you didn't. Maybe now is the time to figure it out."

"Why are you suddenly being logical?" Ghost asked with a defeated pout.

"I have my moments. I want you to be happy, and I noticed you've never been as happy without Jake in your life. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, see you at home." Ghost watched her sister pull out of the parking lot before straddling her motorcycle and driving back to her apartment. Once there, she headed to the living room, where all her guitars hung on display. Ghost beelined for the oldest one on there; it had sat on its wall perch for years, only touched when she had to pack it to move, but something about it called to her at the moment. Grabbing it, she headed to her armchair and set up her phone, purposefully moving the camera down so her face wasn't visible and using a filter to blur the background. Ghost played a few chords, deciding what to play first, but one song kept coming back to her. It deviated from her typical taste of upbeat country, being more indie than anything else, but it came closest to how she felt. Ghost started strumming the chords to "My Tears Ricochet" and pouring all her bottled emotions into it. Singing had become her escape, her way of releasing her feelings because she'd never been good at expressing them. She'd always viewed emotions as a way to be exploited and only allowed a handful of people to see her as anything other than calm and happy. Her parents, sister, Juliette, and Rooster were those people. Hangman used to be one of those, and then the accident happened, and they handled it differently. Ghost spiraled into a depression over losing Ghoul, blaming herself for the accident, and Hangman was nowhere to be seen to help her through the grief like she thought he would. Maybe Ghost should've given him a chance to explain all those years ago? But why did she have to be the one to initiate it? 

Knots formed in her throat during multiple parts of the song, but she pushed through, believing she could get through it without her voice breaking even a little. That was true until she sang: And I can go anywhere I want. Anywhere I want, just not home. 

That's what hurt the most when her friendship ended with Hangman; he'd been her go-to person, the friend she called up first whenever something good or bad happened, the friend that she could always count on during the good and the bad; losing him left a gaping, ragged hole in her heart when it all ended, a hole she'd never been able to fill. It'd been years, and Hangman was still the first person Ghost thought of calling whenever something happened- good or bad- and it took over two years for her to realize why: he'd been her home. She never had trouble leaving anywhere or anyone, only him. Even now, although Ghost hated being around Jake, she didn't want him to go, maybe because she foolishly thought they could work all this out, make it water under the bridge. She'd have to face him for that, though, and Ghost wasn't ready for that. Truthfully, she feared his answer to her question, no matter how many people told her that he loved her. If he had or did love her, why did he leave her alone like he did?

When Ghost finished the song, she stopped the recording and went on Instagram, but her thumb hovered over the post button. What if Hangman saw it? What if he realized she had sung the song about him?

"How would he know?" Ghost mumbled to herself, shaking her head. "It's not like he can see my face or any distinguishing features, and this isn't the only blue guitar in existence. Besides, he doesn't know this account exists. It'll be fine..."

Convincing herself otherwise, Ghost hit the 'post' button and tossed her phone haphazardly onto the couch, as many girls did when they texted or posted something they considered risky. She stood to hang her guitar back on the wall only to be stopped by the incessant buzzing of her phone, alerting her to an incoming call. 

Shit, shit, shit... Scrunching her face up into one of pure reluctance, Ghost carefully flipped her phone over and sighed in relief when she saw the name on the screen. Picking up, Ghost answered, "Morning, Cyclone, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I have a mission for you. How soon can you meet me at my office?"

"Give me fifteen minutes. I'll see you shortly, sir." Ghost hung up and grabbed her keys, wondering what this so-called mission could be.

****

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[shantitechnology]

How to Select the Right ERP Software for Your Indian Manufacturing Firm:  Key Considerations

Introduction

In the dynamic landscape of the Indian manufacturing industry, the integration of an efficient Enterprise Resource Planning (ERP) system is paramount.  Selecting the right ERP system for manufacturing industry can significantly impact a firm's operational efficiency, productivity, and overall competitiveness.  This article delves into the crucial aspects of choosing the best ERP system tailored for the unique needs of Indian manufacturing firms.

Understanding the Unique Needs of the Indian Manufacturing Industry

1.         Regulatory Compliance:  Navigating the Complexities

One of the primary considerations for Indian manufacturers is ensuring compliance with local regulations.  The selected ERP modules for manufacturing industry should seamlessly align with the Goods and Services Tax (GST) framework, a cornerstone of the Indian taxation system.  It is imperative to choose a system that streamlines compliance with industry-specific regulations, safeguarding the manufacturing firm from legal complications.

2.         Scalability: Growing with Your Business

As Indian manufacturing firms aspire for growth, scalability becomes a pivotal factor in ERP selection.  Opt for a system that can effortlessly adapt to the evolving needs of your business.  Scalability is particularly crucial for Indian manufacturers aiming for expansion in a market known for its dynamism and ever-changing demands.

3.         Localization:  Aligning with the Indian Operational Landscape

ERP software must be tailored to the nuances of the Indian market.  Look for solutions offering localization features, including support for multiple languages, adherence to regional accounting standards, and culturally relevant interfaces.  This ensures that the Best ERP for manufacturing industry seamlessly integrates into the operational fabric of your Indian manufacturing firm.

Key Features to Consider

1.         Supply Chain Management:  Navigating the Complex Web

Efficient supply chain management is integral for Indian manufacturers dealing with diverse suppliers and fluctuating market demands.  The chosen ERP system should provide real-time visibility into the entire supply chain, encompassing procurement, production, and distribution.  This ensures that your manufacturing firm can proactively respond to market changes and optimize resource allocation.

2.         Production Planning and Control:  Meeting the Complexities Head-On

The intricacies of manufacturing processes in India necessitate a comprehensive production planning and control module within the ERP system.  Look for software that offers advanced features such as demand forecasting, capacity planning, and real-time monitoring of production processes.  This empowers your manufacturing firm to enhance operational efficiency and meet customer demands with precision.

3.         Quality Management:  Upholding Excellence

Maintaining high-quality standards is non-negotiable for the success of any manufacturing firm.  The ERP for manufacturing industry should include robust quality management modules that facilitate adherence to stringent quality control measures.  This ensures that your products meet regulatory requirements and customer expectations, bolstering your reputation in the competitive Indian market.

Best ERP for the Indian Manufacturing Industry

1.         Evaluating the Options

Selecting the best ERP for your Indian manufacturing firm involves a meticulous evaluation of available options.  Consider industry-specific solutions renowned for their effectiveness in addressing the challenges prevalent in the Indian manufacturing landscape.

2.         ERP Modules Specifically Tailored for Manufacturing

Explore ERP systems that offer modules explicitly designed for the manufacturing industry.  These modules should cover essential aspects such as material requirements planning (MRP), shop floor control, and advanced planning and scheduling (APS).  The seamless integration of these modules enhances operational visibility and control.

Customization and Integration:  A Prerequisite for Success

1.         Tailoring the ERP System to Your Needs

No two manufacturing firms are identical, and the chosen ERP system should accommodate this diversity.  Look for software that allows customization to align with the unique processes and requirements of your Indian manufacturing firm.  This ensures that the ERP system becomes an asset tailored to your specific needs rather than a one-size-fits-all solution.

2.         Integration with Existing Systems

The ERP system should seamlessly integrate with existing software and systems within your manufacturing firm.  This includes compatibility with Customer Relationship Management (CRM) software, Human Resource Management Systems (HRMS), and other relevant applications.  A well-integrated ERP system for manufacturing industry streamlines data flow, minimizing redundancies and enhancing overall efficiency.

User-Friendly Interface and Training

Ensuring Adoption and Efficiency

An ERP system is only as effective as its adoption by the end-users.  Prioritize user-friendly interfaces that facilitate easy navigation and understanding.  Additionally, invest in comprehensive training programs to ensure that your team is proficient in utilizing the ERP system to its full potential.  This approach maximizes the benefits derived from your ERP investment.

Cost Considerations:  Balancing Investment and Returns

1.         Calculating the Total Cost of Ownership (TCO)

While the initial cost of ERP implementation is a crucial consideration, it's equally essential to assess the Total Cost of Ownership (TCO) over the long term.  Evaluate not only the upfront costs but also ongoing expenses related to maintenance, upgrades, and potential customization.  This holistic approach ensures that the chosen ERP system aligns with your budgetary constraints without compromising on functionality.

2.         Return on Investment (ROI): Ensuring Long-Term Value

Consider ERP implementation as a strategic investment rather than a mere expense.  Calculate the anticipated Return on Investment (ROI) based on enhanced operational efficiency, reduced lead times, and improved customer satisfaction.  A thorough ROI analysis ensures that the chosen ERP system delivers long-term value and contributes to the overall success of your Indian manufacturing firm.

Vendor Reputation and Support

1.         Choosing a Reliable Partner

Selecting an ERP vendor with a proven track record in the manufacturing industry is crucial.  Research and assess the reputation of potential vendors, considering factors such as the number of successful implementations, customer reviews, and the vendor's financial stability.  A reliable vendor ensures ongoing support and updates, safeguarding your investment and providing peace of mind.

2.         Support and Training Services

Evaluate the support and training services offered by the Best ERP for manufacturing industry.  Responsive customer support and comprehensive training programs contribute to a smooth implementation process and ongoing success.  Prioritize vendors that prioritize customer satisfaction and offer tailored support to address the unique needs of your Indian manufacturing firm.

Conclusion

In conclusion, choosing the right ERP software for manufacturing industry requires a strategic approach that considers the unique challenges and opportunities in the dynamic Indian market.  By prioritizing regulatory compliance, scalability, localization, and key features such as supply chain management, production planning, and quality control, you can identify an ERP solution that aligns seamlessly with the needs of your manufacturing operations.  Additionally, evaluating customization options, integration capabilities, user-friendliness, cost considerations, and the reputation of ERP software providers ensures a well-informed decision that propels your Indian manufacturing firm toward enhanced efficiency, productivity, and long-term success.

[otter1962crystalball]

The House of Lost Souls

June 18, 2024

Yesterday I wrote that I reluctantly got into the ambulance. It took me to the hospital in downtown Vancouver. The ambulance drivers accompanied me into emergency while I was checked in. I sat there for quite a while and the ambulance drivers weren’t paying much attention. An attendant or nurse (I don’t recall) came up to me and strangely said that I was free to go. I shrugged my shoulders and got up to leave. As I passed by the ambulance drivers, I turned to them and said that the hospital was letting me go and I began to head for the door. There was a shout from the check-in desk and the ambulance drivers stood and ran to me and dragged me back to my seat. It turned out that the check desk had almost let the wrong person go!

While I was sitting and waiting, I pulled my phone out and called this guy that I knew. We had been out on a couple of dates before all of this happened. That may be a story for later… Anyway, I’ll call him “Bill.”  I told him what was happening and asked if he would go to the house and look after my pets. Luckily, he had a key as he had visited a few times and I entrusted him to keep it. The few times he was there with me, he walked me through dealing with what had been going on downstairs. Bill was a recovering crack and cocaine addict and was attuned into what was going on in my life. Bill said he would stay there until I was able to come home. So you understand, Dean was still in my basement at that time and neither had an inkling nor a care where I was.

I was finally checked in and I sat in a hospital room for what seemed hours. I was still there when the night shift came on. By that time I was exhausted and not definitely not thinking sanely. I got up from my little room and went into the bathroom and used it. Then on a whim, I locked the door and sat in the corner on the floor. The poor nurse outside kept gently knocking on the door and asking if I were okay and wondered if I would open the door. He must have done that for twenty minutes until someone came with a key and took me back to my room. As I am writing this, I perceive where my mind was at that time and I cringe; I really was not right in my mind and that is hard to admit.

A while later, a doctor came to my room and said that I was being transferred to another hospital with a ward better suited to help me. So, into another abundance I went and was driven to the other hospital. By the time I was placed in my room, I was exhausted and totally disoriented. A nurse came in and said that she had some pills for me. She didn’t say what they were for. I refused. I think it was because I didn’t know what they were going to give me. I continued to refuse. She quietly left and came back with two security guards and showed me a very large syringe with a very large needle. She made it quite clear that the two men would hold me down and she would shove the needle into my butt cheek. I can remember grimacing and finally telling the nurse that I would take the pills - as long as they got me a pair of pants so that my butt wasn’t hanging out the back of the one I had come in from the other hospital. I guess I was trying to hang onto some sort of dignity - I no longer had my clothes, wallet and phone. She came back with the hospital pants and I took the pills as the two security guards stood over me. I slept until the morning nurse came into the room to wake me up. It turned out I had a roommate. 

So, there I was - in a psych ward because I had threatened suicide. My roommate was there because he had gone bonkers working too much and was put into the ward. He and I chatted and I found out he was from India and had only been in Vancouver for a short while. His family had committed him to the ward. He played Indian music a lot and I started requesting some of them because they were very beautiful. If you are wondering how I feel right now as I am write this… I keep closing my eyes in embarrassment. What I see on the back of my eyelids is the room where I stayed, my roommate and the myriad of other strange and lost people in the ward. For the first few days I was tranquillized so much that I didn’t really feel anything. The attending doctor gave me some sort of medication that he said would settle my brain down. What it did to me was like electricity coursing through my head. It felt really bizarre. When I told the doctor what I was experiencing, he sat there and simply said, “You’re a hypochondriac.” He didn’t believe me! So, the medication kept coming in the little cup every day, two times a day. To this day, I still feel a little anger towards that doctor. He was such an uncaring and jaded soul. He didn’t have to believe me because he thought I was nuts. Was I? Maybe, but there were times of clarity and he never seemed to be there when I had it - he was always there when I wasn’t at my best.

I had to attend classes every day with other people who were suicidal. We had to talk about our situations and the psychologist worked with us. I was the only gay man there. The rest were mostly men along with a few females - all apparently straight. I was very paranoid because I felt that people were not to be trusted. One day in the group session, we were writing about emotions. I wrote a poem that described all of the people in the ward. Here is what I wrote:

Prisoner Here I am in the single framed bed that squeaks –  Crinkling and cranking while I shift my sore body from one side to another Waiting for the magic pill to kick in and give me peace enough to sleep. Sleep would be hard in a place like this without my magic pill–  There’s the alien who walks up and down the aisles in a gaiting “clip clop, slurp” sort of manner. I can hear her drooling and wheezing and waiting for that time to suck my brains out. The guy that sits in the corner forever dwelling on his past life, never smiling, hardly moving, dazed look in his eyes – glazed over by large amounts of tranqs. The talk-talk woman with a patch on her eye that has a face that has seen way too many drugs and bottles – who’d probably steal your iPod in a blink of a single, solitary, watchful eye. The guy with the headset and the big smile (don’t trust eternally smiling people – they’re the ones to watch out for – even more than the alien). The shuffling lady who shuffles and turns away when you look at her – fear of knowing the truth would hurt her too much and will cry at the drop of a hat. The doctor who is all professional – heartless, pill pushing, not really so strong – Huh, if he were in my shoes he’d be worse off… Friends come and go and my mood swings up and down with a rhythm – high when there, high for a while, but not high like him – the one who helped me get into here. He doesn’t know the end of my rope came this week and he might have actually won, if I hadn’t opened my mouth and spoken the horrid truth of my mind that an eternal sleep in my car would take me to my next place and leave all the worries behind. Instead of a magical voyage, I am back here in this crinkling and cranking bed – letting the pill take over and letting that same eternal-type feeling sink into me as I drift off to sleep thinking that tomorrow might be a better day… February 28, 2009 (Vancouver General Hospital Psychiatric Ward) 

When I read that poem, I am amazed at the descriptions that I used. There really was someone who walked the halls making those funny noises like clip clop and slurping. I never did see who it was…. There was a woman with an eye patch who looked shady and the  woman who would start to cry if anyone glanced at her. There actually was a scary looking sitting all day in the corner.  Some of them were in my group meeting as well.

I was in that ward for almost three weeks. Bill would come and visit me and give me news of the pets. The counsellor from my school, Harry came to visit me and I could tell he was horrified with the way I looked. I think he spoke to the nurse or the doctor about my medications and the crazy drug stopped. 

The time dragged on through two weeks and into the third. I was slowly starting to feel a glimmer of hope. One of the teachers from school came for a visit and I asked her if she could bring student portfolios for me to mark. They had been working on them before I left. The psychologist agreed that it would be okay and probably beneficial. I can remember lovingly going through each portfolio and admiring what they had put together. Those portfolios went back to my class two days later.

One day in our group meeting, I wrote another poem:

The Epiphany (Grant’s Big Hope) One would think, That a guy couldn’t have something hit him on the back of the head – At four in the morning (in a psych ward). The searcher has found the end of his path – not the end he planned last week (The Permanent One). But an end where the word Happiness suddenly becomes a reality. Where were you all this time?  Why did you abandon me for so long? Or am I just too blind to see that you were always here? Right in front of my unseeing eyes. Look down, just a little bit to your heart, For that is where it is. I’m just the tool that has shown you the way. You are happy! You love yourself! Happiness is no longer a mystery, but your reality. Where will you go now?  March 5, 2009 – 3:00 PM in a Creative Workshop at the Psychiatric Ward at VGH) Both of the poems come from a document that contains many of the poems that I have written in my life. They are stark reminders of a time where I was lost and later found myself again.

Then came the day when Bill arrived and I was to go home. I had had my final meeting with the psychologist and she said that I was fit to go home, but needed to stay off work until well after March break. Bill would stay with me for the next month. That is another story that I think that I will leave for tomorrow.

For Pride, I am celebrating the strength of the human spirit. I wrestled with my demons and I won. When I left that ward and was outside for the first time, the outside air cheered me and elevated my mood. If you’ve every wrestled with demons like I have, you might have an inkling of what it was like. I’m sure that others will have empathy for what I went through. 

Happy Pride, everyone! Carpe diem.

[pogidoow]

Frozen Creative Notes Volume 2 Part 1 | Chapter songs edition

Volume 1 | Chapter Titles edition

Some more extra content for the few readers who actually listen to the chapter songs or songs I sneak into the story.

Spoilers ahead up to chapter 15 so read at your own risk!

Chapter 1 Song | Firestarter by The Prodigy: The Prodigy is one of my all time favorite bands so it was only right to start the story off by making one of their songs an intro to Frost as a character. The moment Firestarter came on, I thought "this is Frost" because it foreshadows her personality and temper, along with the past she's known for, and hints that she's bringing that trouble with her. Additionally, I found it cool that there's a "Hey" repeating throughout the song. It's like she's greeting the TF141 as she joins the team, saying "Hey, I've arrived to complicate your lives."

2. Chapter 2 Song | it’s ok, you’re ok by Bonjr: although, it's an instrumental song, the title is relevant as it's what the officer says to little Frost once he finds her ("It's ok, you're ok. You're safe."). It's the first bit of comfort she ever receives from another person.

3. Chapter 3 Song | Conspiracy by Paramore: Frost finds out that the team lied and knew about Doberman before her transfer. Then, Price went behind her back and invited Keegan to join them on the mission. At this point, she still doesn't trust the team and realizes that the power she had as a solo operator is now fading. She begins to understand that she depends on the decisions of the team.

4. Chapter 4 song | Arrow by Surf Curse: This song is about what's going on inside Frost's head. It's the first time readers get a glimpse of her vulnerability, the way she deals with all the trauma she carries with her, and how bad she is at understanding her own emotions.

5. Chapter 5 Song | Night out by Radiator Hospital: Oopsie. This was just straight foreshadowing of what happens to Sergeant Bo.

6. Chapter 6 Song | It's All So Incredibly Loud by Glass Animals: We're inside Frost's head again. She's struggling with the loss of Bo and her guilt.

7. Chapter 7 Song | Tears by Boy Harsher: History repeats itself. Price asks Frost to join Las Cuchillas again. The song focuses on her discomfort at the thought of going back and foreshadows the origin of her knife throwing skills ("follow the knife").

8. Chapter 8 Song | Knife Prty by Deftones: Once again, a simple play on words. Frost takes on the members of Las Cuchillas, stealth-style with knives. The song foreshadows Frost's successful initiation and Carmen's pining for Frost in the following chapters.

9. Chapter 9 Song | Ese Hombre by LA INDIA: I fucking adore this song. Basically, the whole song is about a horrible man the singer is in a relationship with. She spits at his face, devours him. It's iconic. BUT although she hates him, he is still her man. This is how Carmen sees Frost. Frost has done her wrong, but she's still her Cocaina.

How can you not love it? She goes off lmao.

10. Chapter 10 Song | Reckoner by Radiohead: Aww this one. This one makes me siiiick. We're in Soap's head now... That sweet idiot. Soap risks his life to see and check on Frost while she's out with Las Cuchillas. The main reason for this song choice is the melody. It's as if I'm listening to Soap's desperation to save Frost in a form of a melody, how his thoughts and his heart tear at his helplessness. There's also this very simple line that perfectly explains his need to protect Frost at that very moment:

11. Chapter 11 Song | Summer Again by The Wytches: Frost loses Carmen. The grief is too much for her. She decides to leave. The whole song is just... just listen to it. It's an incredible musical depiction of vulnerability and pain. I feel like someone is tearing my heart open when I listen to it.

First line: Frost never got to tell Carmen how much she actually did care about her, second line: Frost is sitting on the floor with Carmen's body in her lap, third line: Frost decides to run away

12. Chapter 12 Song | Bad Timing by dEUS: Pretty self-explanatory. Frost comes back, only to find Soap and Jazz in her room. We all remember this one. Ouch.

13. Chapter 13 Song | You Do Something To Me by Paul Weller: The team goes on a team building trip. She's still in denial, but Frost realizes she has some kind of feelings for Soap since she is bothered by Jazz and they have a brief tense moment after the volleyball match. Beautiful song.

14. Chapter 14 Song | Vale by Maribou State: Frost starts pining for Soap, badly. She's barely holding herself together next to him, especially on the beach after the kayaking accident. The song shows Frost's internal vulnerability, excitement and realization that she does in fact, feel him.

15. Chapter 15 Song | Die On A Rope by The Distillers: Love the energy of this song and thought it would be awesome for an action-packed chapter. Also, a pretty literal play on words. Ghost and Frost are stuck on a cliff. Ghost urges her to jump to him but she's reluctant to do it. Will she jump? Will they die on a rope if she does?

---

That's it for Part 1. Let me know if you'd like Part 2!

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Pic) Read on AO3 

Rated M 

Kumari wiped the glass countertop with a dish towel, listening to the ticking of the clock. She wore an apron underneath her blouse and jeans, Rapunzel black hair rolled up in a braided bun. Business was slow for a Tuesday afternoon. Her husband was sent on another mission yesterday, and her 11 month old son, Kichiro, was upstairs in his crib taking a nap. Most of the morning had been spent rearranging the cast iron cauldrons, wands, and empty crystal balls, which were mostly kept for posterity (they did absolutely nothing). The swords, army knives, guns, and medieval crossbows, on the other hand, were the real deal. If there was one art form Kumari appreciated more than anything it was weaponry. Cursed weaponry, at that. There was no better dealer on this side of the South China Sea than her, and everybody in the jujutsu world knew it. That’s why the sorcerer families continued doing business with her, despite the fall out between her in-laws.

Being a cursed tool specialist wasn’t necessarily the easiest job, but Kumari knew she was top-tier. Just recently she had acquired a handsome yatağan, pommeled in bronze, dating back to the early Ottoman Empire. She had her eye on it for months. The seller didn’t bother recognizing the sword’s true value, or the high volumes of dormant cursed energy contained within its curved blade, talking to her. Probably belonged to a powerful warrior at one time. She got it for a steal. It looked nice mounted on the wall with the other swords next to the four-armed goddess Kali, destroyer of evil and consort to Shiva, enraged as she wore the slaughtered heads and arms of her enemies. Kumari grinned. She was rather fond of that imagery.

Samurai armor. French guillotines. A 1923 Tommy gun owned by Al Capone. Sometimes the tools she acquired couldn’t be sold, either because they were too dangerous for society, or had been stolen and needed to be returned to their rightful owners, tucked dead in their tombs. Like a jigsaw puzzle, it was Kumari’s job to gather the pieces and reassemble them.

Her favorite cases were always swords, be they katana, akrafena, rapiers, or her primary weapon of choice, the double-edged khanda. Ever since her parents signed her up for fencing lessons, Kumari knew she had found her vocation. And upon possessing a rare sealing technique used for cursed tools and artifacts, the choice had been made. Japan came calling, and when entering high school she said goodbye to her beloved New Delhi for a new beginning in Tokyo.

Jujutsu High was where she met her husband, freshman year. Their chemistry was instantaneous. All it took was one, quick glance and Ichiro was hers. They dated all throughout high school and university before tying the knot last year. She was pregnant four months later with their baby boy. With their growing family, the newest Chauhan clan moved to an accommodating townhouse in Minato City, where Kumari’s shop “KUMARI’S APPRAISAL & ARMAMENTS” dwelled on the very first floor. Due to the nature of her enterprise, she had special permission from the Japanese government to sell illegal weapons. Only registered jujutsu sorcerers were allowed access.

With her two bare hands, Kumari had carved a comfortable niche for herself, but living in Japan as a foreigner wasn’t always so simple. She still got stared at when walking down the street on her way to the market. Her mocha colored skin and long black hair were quite eye-catching. Ichiro thought she was beautiful of course. His family thought otherwise. Seemed neither money nor royal blood would do for the Kamo’s.

The Chauhan dynasty, Kumari’s ancestors, was believed to have ruled over the region of Sapadalaksha, located in present day Rajasthan where most of India’s kings reigned. They did so for 600 years before the turn of the 12th century and later British colonialism. As a little girl, Kumari could remember her grandfather bouncing her on one knee as he re-dramatized the war stories of Prithviraj Chauhan III laying siege to Muhammad Ghori’s forces at the Battle of Tarain. He would also recite to her the Bhagavad Gita; When Prince Arjuna threw down his bow, ready to forfeit the seemingly useless fight, till lord Krishna reminded him of his duty as a warrior. Her grandmother would be busy in the kitchen making dumplings (momos), singing traditional folk songs. The scent of curry leaves and chili would linger all throughout the house. She missed it sometimes.

The direct Chauhan line lost their royalty, but not their wealth. Kumari wore the ruby and pearl beaded necklace once belonging to Bhupinder Singh, the Maharaja of Patiala, on her wedding with a whole string of decadent jewels, and a lehenga designed and sewn by Sabyasachi Mukherjee. Although the Chauhan’s kept most of their wealth hidden and lived by more modest means; ie, not residing in palatial houses with servants and priceless treasures, staying out of the limelight as much as possible. Both of Kumari's parents worked in academia. Her mother obtained a doctorate in biophysics, while her father served as co-director for the Department of South Asian Studies at a prestigious university, focusing on past and modern Indo-Pakistani relations. Kumari followed in her parents’ academic footsteps, earning a bachelor’s in Military Science and a master’s in Weapon Appraisal after graduating from Jujutsu High, taking up sword smithing as a side hustle. Turns out she excelled in her craft, yet for all the expertise it wouldn’t be enough to curry favor with her in-laws.

She blamed Ichiro’s domineering aunt, Hatsumomo, the most. That witch. Kumari likened her to a Malabar viper, toxic to everyone she saw as indecent, which in her world meant anyone who lacked the right lineage. Jujustu society was very much a world of who’s in and who’s out, but in all the years she had confronted the Kamo woman, Kumari never let the old snake coil under her skin. She attributed the witch’s bitterness from being overlooked as clan leader many years back, despite being the eldest in the Kamo family. Now she wreaked her vengeance as the self-proclaimed “leading lady” of jujutsu society, delegating what was and was not permissible. However, Kumari wasn’t the groveling sort and refused to bend the knee. Her pride wouldn’t allow it. The satisfaction she felt for wearing a heavily embroidered sari in front of the appalled Kamo’s face still lived fresh in her memory (with a gold nath and chain). That was before her and Ichiro were married, the day he formally announced his separation from the Kamo clan, taking the Chauhan name instead. There was no turning back now, but as a wise man once said; when one door closes, another one…

The doorbell to her shop jingled, signaling the arrival of a customer.

Kumari’s head flew up from the countertop to spot the world’s strongest sorcerer entering her store. She smiled.

“Ah, Satoru. I was wondering when you’d show up. I expected your dandelion head in here hours ago.”

The Six Eyes wielder ruffled his snow-white hair. “Sorry. We walked past a new flower shop and Hannah couldn’t resist.”

The girl in question popped out from behind her husband, cheeks noticeably red.

“We weren’t in there very long,” she insisted. “Honest.”

“Oh, it’s fine. You didn’t make an appointment,” Kumari assured, beckoning them inside. “Come in, come in.” The couple walked towards her, allowing the Indian tradeswoman to better evaluate Satoru’s little bride. She already knew the girl was English, if the light dusting of freckles, pale skin, and auburn colored hair were any clues. Plus the accent, which was still distinct when speaking Japanese, thought she hid it well. She was at least five inches shorter.

Kumari noticed Hannah’s hazel eyes on the tiny dagger pierced through her right ear. Ichiro bought it for her as an anniversary present. Vastly intrigued, the Indian woman leaned closer.

“So you’re the illustrious Hannah everyone has been raving about.”

Hannah swallowed nervously. “R-Raving?”

Kumari dismissed the question and extended her hand. “The name is Chauhan Kumari. I specialize in cursed tools and weaponry. You could even say I’m the best arms dealer in the biz. Welcome to my shop.” Her eyes redirected towards Satoru who quickly hid his hand behind his back, having been caught meddling with some miniature voodoo dolls sitting on a revolving rack. She pointed a finger. “And I’ve known this loser since he was a senpai of mine back in Jujutsu High.”

“Your favorite senpai, might I add,” Satoru corrected cheekily, shooting her a wide, cheshire-cat grin before thinking over what she had said. “Hold on, since when am I a loser?”

Kumari rolled her dark green eyes at the jujutsu sorcerer, paying him no heed. Hannah seized the opportunity to reach out.

“It’s a pleasure,” she said, shaking the arm dealer’s outstretched hand.

“I concur,” Kumari replied with a smile.

Bummed that his former underclassman thought so lowly of him, Satoru spun around on his heels, doing a quick scan of the store. He seemed confused. “Oi, where’s that lovesick husband of yours, Kumari? I haven’t seen him since Gion.”

Kumari was back to furiously wiping the countertop with the dish towel, her smile morphing into a frown. “Ichiro is away on a mission.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yes,” Kumari huffed, less than happy with the outcome. She scrubbed harder. “Seriously.”

“But why? Wasn’t he assigned to Osaka just last week?”

“Yes, yes. Don’t remind me, Satoru,” the arms dealer fumed, raising her hand to silence him. “I’ve vented enough about it already.”

Satoru sulked. “Shit, and here I thought I was being overworked. The bastards.”

“He’s supposed to be home Thursday night, God willing.”

“What about the tiny squirt?” he asked. “How’s he doin’?”

“Oh, you know. Lively as any other toddler would be. Right now he’s upstairs, taking his afternoon nap.”

“I imagine he must keep you on your toes,” Hannah chimed, joining in the light banter.

“All the bloody time,” the Indian woman exclaimed. “Especially now that he can walk and talk, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Motherhood has been kind to me.” She placed the dish towel on her shoulder. “Though I understand you’re not here for a life update. Fork it over, pretty boy. Show me what you did.”

Sheepishly, Satoru took out a small cloth bag from his back pocket. He loosed the strings, and flipping the bag upside down, shook out its contents. Several broken shards of Stinging Nettle, the green silked tantō he had gifted Hannah, fell atop the glass countertop like coins, as did the wooden hilt, cracked right in the center. It was his fault. After excorcizing the curse from the opera and teaching Hannah how to use it, the cursed tool self combusted. He had been too rough.

The arms dealer pursed her lips.

“Chutiya,” she cursed in Hindi. “This is the fifth cursed weapon from my shop you’ve broken this year. These daggers don’t grow on bloody trees, you know?”

Satoru looked almost guilty. “Can it be fixed?”

“Of course it can be fixed!” Kumari shrilled, swatting him with her dish towel. “What kind of business do you think I’m running? A concession stand?” She whipped out a small microscope from her apron to inspect the fragmented surgical steel. “I’ll have to weld the pieces back together and recarve the hilt from scratch, then check its cursed energy output for holes. By my estimation, the repair should take no longer than three weeks.” She glowered at her former senpai suspiciously. “I expect to be well compensated for this, correct?”

Satoru nodded. “You name it, I’ll pay it.”

“Good. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah. How much you want for that mean looking guy over there?”

Kumari craned her neck. He was pointing towards a wide-edged combat knife mounted on the wall below the katana. She mentally processed everything she knew about the blade. DNA results showed the black fur on its guard was actually the hide of an eastern lowland gorilla, a critically endangered species forested in the Democratic Republic of Congo. The two holes, or rings, punched in the 12 inch steel were meant to help distribute its weight when held. The hilt was wrapped in wildebeest leather. While imbued with cursed energy, the fighting knife was safe for non-sorcerers. It must’ve been very old, which in her profession upped the retail price. Excellent.

An imp-like smirk graced her features as she swiveled back to face the Six Eyes wielder. “Not sure,” she challenged. “How much do you think it’s worth?”

The game was on.

“Two million,” Satoru said.

She taped her chin. “Mmm, more like five million.”

“What?! There’s no way it costs that much.” He tried throwing a different number. “Three and a half.”

“Four million.”

“Okay then, three eight-hundred.”

“Sorry, Gojo. Four million is my final asking price. Take it or leave it.”

“Dammit,” Satoru swore under his breath with a wry smile, already pulling out his checkbook. “Chauhan, some days I swear you’re out to bleed me dry. You bargain worse than Mei Mei.”

“Mei-san doesn’t have a child to raise,” Kumari reasoned, gladly swiping the signed check of ¥4,000,000 off his hands. She walked around the counter and grabbed the knife from the wall, procuring a case for it. “Thanks for supporting local. Your patronage is greatly appreciated.”

Satoru wallowed in his defeat and lifted his newly made purchase from its case, flipping it side to side. “What’s the knife’s name?”

Kumari placed the check in the register, closing the cash box. “Slaughter Demon.”

Meanwhile, Hannah had her eye locked on a lone wooden shelf situated in the corner, filled with books next to rows of paper scrolls and blank spell-tags. Satoru had been watching. She refused leaving his side and he felt he knew why. His hand landed on her head. Hazel met turquoise as she peered up at him.

“Hey, you don’t need my permission, alright?” he told her. “If you want to look at the books, have at it. You're safe here.”

“Thank you,” she said quickly and darted for the book shelf, wasting no time finding one that caught her attention. Satoru chuckled warmly, observing her flip a few pages, close the book, then return it on the shelf before selecting a new one, fingers running along the paper bindings. Now that she was out of earshot, he felt free to speak.

“Is it ready?”

Kumari’s face suddenly blanched like she was about to be ill. “Yes, wait here.” She disappeared through a curtain behind the counter, soon returning with a mysterious lacquered box. She placed it cautiously in front of him. “Don’t ask how it went. Had to perform the ritual in the basement. I won’t sugarcoat it, Satoru, this one was worse than the first.”

Unafraid, Satoru cracked open the lid. Kumari shivered.

Inside was the lone Sukuna finger obtained from the New National Theatre back in July. Satoru had given the finger to Kumari to re-seal with wax. It had taken close to two months, but the cursed relic was officially under wraps. He picked up the hooked finger that upon closer inspection seemed to be the pinkie belonging to Sukuna’s left hand. He scowled at it. Hundreds dead because of this damn thing. Wordlessly, he transferred the sealed finger from the box into his front pocket. He would return it to Jujutsu High where it would be kept under lock and key.

They heard a small sneeze reminiscent of a child’s. The two sorcerers look to see Hannah coughing and batting away heavy clouds of dust. Somehow, her petite stature managed to free a book on the top shelf yet to be cleaned. She appeared fine, but Kumari's mind wandered to a different matter.

“How is she sleeping?”

Satoru frowned. “To be honest, not that great.”

Hannah’s sleep schedule had gone from bad to shit. The Sight gave her no reprieve. The only good part was when they’d separate for bed, and Satoru would feel a tug on his arm; Hannah pulling him inside her room because she didn’t want to be alone. The grief following Keiko’s execution last week had not lost its grip. She needed him, and Satoru liked being needed. He liked planting secret kisses on her head and holding her close when the nightmares came. His own Sleeping Beauty in his arms. He liked it.

“Have you discussed her visions?” Kumari said.

“We’re starting to,” he sighed. “I keep asking whether she’s noticed anything weird, a clue that another Sukuna finger will pop up. So far, there’s been no patterns. At least, that’s what she’s told me.”

“So she would know for sure if a new finger was set to emerge?”

“Mmhm.”

Kumari leaned atop the glass counter again, staring down at the collection of knickknacks and magical trinkets, resting a palm on her cheek. “The Sight; a rare, involuntary foresight that is initiated by the amount of cursed energy existing in the environment during sleep. What a strange ability.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Satoru huffed.

“I wouldn’t want that power,” Kumari admitted. “Not for all the tea in China, though I do wonder. Are there other abilities associated with it? Telepathy? Mind reading? Hypnosis?”

The Six Eyes wielder shook his head. “None that I’m aware of.” Although, there was a slight hesitation in his voice. Kumari sensed he wasn’t telling the full truth, but wouldn’t prod him. Her thoughts went back to Hannah.

“I can tell she’s a sweet girl,” she sympathized. “Perhaps even a little too sweet.”

“She’s tougher than she looks.”

“You sound smitten.”

She had meant it as a joke, but Satoru wasn't taking the bait and held his silence. Her green eyes widened a fraction.

“Oh-ho, I stand corrected,” she quipped. “More than smitten. Well, I'm happy to hear it. About time you settled down with someone and made a decent life for yourself. Should I prepare to be an Auntie anytime soon?”

Satoru smirked. “I wouldn’t bet on it,” he chuckled dryly. Kumari patted him on the back.

“Aw, no worries, dandelion head. You’ll be changing diapers soon enough, just you wait. Then the real fun begins.”

Satoru’s eyes commenced to watching Hannah parse through the books. She had abandoned the dusty novel on a nearby table, too short to put it back, and was reading a different one. “No offense, Kumari, but that’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

Kumari gave a long sigh, twirling her hand in the air. “Fine, fine, you’re right. But there isn’t much to her, Satoru. A wind gust could probably come in and blow her away.”

Satoru snorted. “Has anyone ever told you not to judge a person by appearances? I said she’s tougher than she lets on.”

“Toughness doesn’t count much these days. Strength perhaps, but not necessarily toughness.”

“She is strong.”

“Says you.”

She heard him give a loud exhale through his nose, a sign he wasn’t going to continue arguing.

“She has me, Kumari.” Kumari turned to the world’s strongest sorcerer as he said it, his eyes trained on his wife turning another page. She saw the conviction cut through those strikingly blue irises. “I’m all the strength she needs.”

Kumari stared at her former senpai, doubting for a second he was really the same person who once saran-wrapped school staircases and unscrewed teacher’s chairs as pranks, spurting practical jokes on the fly like he intended to make it a career. This Satoru was new to her. Not since Geto’s fall from grace had she seen her friend act so serious.

Has one girl truly changed you that much? the tradeswoman thought.

They saw Hannah walking towards the sales wrap, book in hand.

“Find something interesting?” Satoru said.

“I did, actually,” she gushed, laying a blue covered book along the countertop. Madame Camille’s Simple Guide to Enchanted Textiles. Kumari nodded in approval. A fine choice, and so she took the book and rang it up for them on the register. Satoru handed her the total in change, and once the purchase was finalized, the two Gojo’s bid goodbye to their weapon-enthusiast friend and sauntered out of the shop. Kumari saw Satoru's large hand covet his wife’s smaller one just as the door closed behind them, the besotted gleam in his eye. It was the same twitterpated look Ichiro reserved only for her, the look of a man hopelessly in love. She heard Hannah giggle at something silly he said.

Kumari hummed.

Therein lied her answer.

[medicinemane]

Ok... so after a long miserable day I'm finally booked

It cost $76 more dollars than it would have with expedia... but I know I don't have to deal with a middle man that's apparently going to be in India and try and up charge me (like he said my hotel would be $680 and plane was like $375, when it was more like $520 and $200, I'm not even mad at him cause I get he needs to make money of commissions probably... but no thanks)

Also unlike expedia I... actually have my tickets. Still need to send my hotel a photo of my ID before I'm checked in fully (cause we live in a surveillance state), but like... I'm actually booked

Seriously, don't ever ever use expedia. Like, it was good for helping me find a hotel in that their little map was nice, and it was good for finding what flight was cheap, so do end up using them for that... then go book direct cause it might cost a bit more but like... they've got terrible customer service, some of the worst I've ever had, and I just gotta advise you against it

(I couldn't even find their number, it was my Credit Union rep, all I found was a thing where they were like "give us your number and your itinerary and we'll call you"... do you want that if you need a problem solved?)

I'm good, today sucked but Kathy made it way better. I'm recovering enough energy to write her a messages telling her how things turned out, and I'm also going to both ask if there's any way to tell her supervisors how good she is and also I'm gonna say I understand if either she's not interested or it goes against policy, but if she wants me to carve something I'm happy to do that for her

Cause like... she may not have fixed my problem, but she took me from being crumpled on the floor saying "I just don't know what to do" to being in a pretty good mood and able to weather this

Absolute hero, and she also shows the difference in good customer service vs bad, and like if my credit union didn't have my state's name in it I'd promo them, where as... seriously, please bad mouth expedia if you ever get a chance

Like just think if you want to risk being in my position, or if you'd rather pay a little extra and just get it direct (what I paid is still less than what a competitor quoted)

I'd say it was a bad day, but I'm actually feeling pretty good thanks to Kathy at my credit union

Hope you're all doing decent, at least this is 90% taken care of

[juliana-jones]

7 Snippets 7 People

I was tagged by @writingmaidenwarrior, thanks!

I'm going to post some pretty random stuff that I've written recently, a lot during writing games. Not sure if any of these will go anywhere, but here they are! Warning for a bit of emotional whiplash as some are silly and some are a bit dark.

1. A writing game snip

“Drink this,” she says, and holds a dark pottery mug full of steaming liquid to my mouth.

The pain of my wounds has left me with little ability to be suspicious or guarded. I dragged myself here and threw myself on the mercy of this hedge witch, so now

I don’t think, I just drink.

“You’re going to have to spend some time as an axolotl,” she says, and if I hadn’t just finished swallowing, I would have served up a comical spit-take.

“That leg is past saving,” she continues seriously. “As an axolotl, you’ll be able to grow it back, though.”

“I’m sorry, a what?” I ask. I’m starting to feel quite nauseous.

“Don’t worry,” she says. She’s not what I expected for a hedge witch; she’s young, and rather pretty, thick curly brown hair and a round face. “I have several axolotl familiars, so there’s a tank set up already, with some friends. You won’t be lonely, and it’ll probably only take a few weeks, anyway.”

“A few wee…” My protestation is cut off by a strange vertiginous sensation. My eyesight blurs. I don’t have a few weeks, my bastard of a step-brother is usurping my throne as we speak, but I don’t have time to tell her before the room starts to spin.

2. A snip from "fucked up fantasy world" WIP

The Invocation Chamber is small, square, windowless, and spotless. Everything is polished white marble. The floor slopes just slightly down towards the center of the room. There’s a low slab of the same white marble there, and on the slab, a naked man, arms and legs tied down to metal rings set into the stone. He looks unconscious, or drugged.

On either side of the slab, Kharis notices with dawning apprehension, there are drains set into the floor.

3. A writing game snip

“Everyone makes fun of Florida Man,” she says, “but these are real people, dealing with real, serious problems. What if it was your brother who got turned into a ridiculous headline and memed across Twitter for a week?”

She has a point. I can’t tell her I’m here because the story is true. I also can’t tell her how I know it’s true.

“I understand your concerns,” I say, keeping my voice gentle as if talking to a spooked horse, “but I’m not here in an official capacity. I do want to ask your brother some more questions about what happened, but not for the news. Just for purely personal reasons. Have you talked to him lately?”

4. Another writing game snip

The planet I grew up on has a synchronous orbit; half of it is always facing toward its sun. With a little terraforming, vast swathes of continental landmass above and below the equator on that sunlit half became perfectly graduated climactic zones ripe for the cultivation of an astounding variety of tea. The East India Company dissolved over three centuries before terraforming began, but that didn’t mean the human desire for extracting resources for profit had abated any. Nor had the human desire to drink tea. My intent here is not to dissuade you from enjoying the small pleasures in life; cognitive dissonance is a survival strategy under intergalactic capitalism, after all. No. My intent is to start a war.

5. A WIP about clones

Dear myself, in the next ten iterations,

Being born into a decuplet, if we can be said to be born instead of decanted, is an honor, as you all know. Out of all the hundreds of billions of people in the galaxy, we've been chosen as versatile and intelligent enough to be worthy of cloning, foolish and egotistical enough to agree to it.

6. ???

The Gulf of Mexico Oxygenation Plant failed three years ago. It failed because of me.

7. WIP, working title is "Date Night"

Mandibles like two handsaws rasping against each other, segmented exoskeleton gleaming from anointing oil, she rests in the comfortable padding of her chamber. The attendants have already taken the brood to the creche, cared for her and cleaned her, polished and pampered her. That's when she prefers to see me; when she's presentable.

I wish she'd let me come sooner. I'd spend time with her in any state of disarray. We have so little of it.

She turns to me as I enter and I smile at her, keeping my lips closed so as not to show my teeth. The sight of exposed bone is disturbing, so I temper my expression accordingly. Still, I can hardly keep my delight from splitting my face in half.

She's beautiful. Not like me and the rest of the humans.

~~~

I will tag: @talesofsorrowandofruin, @asablehart, and @broodparasitism