#he probably didn't even recognize her she was less involved than i was it was probably more Random teen girl glaring at me in public but

[chainsawpng]

CRAZY.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

can you do mike schmidt x reader with abby trick-or-treating?

NOTE: This takes place after the movie

........

"Come on, slowpokes! Keep up!"

"Abby, don't go too far!"

"Relax, Mikey. She's just going two houses over. There's other kids already there. See?" You calmly pointed out the decorated home that Abby was rushing towards, disappearing into the crowd of kids who complimented her costume.

She was dressed as her "friend": a yellow version of Freddy Fazbear complete with a mask she painted, a yellow undershirt, and a black vest that was a tad bit too big for her.

Curiously enough, she removed one ear from the mask and covered one eye with black paint. But it didn't bother either of you too much, thinking she wanted to do something unique and creative with her costume.

Considering everything that happened at Freddy's Pizzeria, you were surprised that she wanted to dress up as one of the characters at all.

Yet neither you nor Mike recall ever seeing a "Golden Freddy". Not even backstage.

But you did, however, meet a golden Bonnie...and the person wearing his suit was none other than the bastard who murdered those poor children, including Garrett.

You just hoped their souls were finally at peace now, and that William rotted away in that suit, never to be found again. It was a rather fitting punishment--the perfect karma someone as sadistic as him.

Sometime later, you started dating Mike after you both officially quit that job, found something new to save his home from eviction, and helped him regain custody over his sister (Doug was more than eager to write you both off as her legal guardians).

He still had his nightmares, of course, that now involved visions of a decayed Springbonnie suit chasing him through that same forest. But you were always there to wake him up, cuddling together and helping him fall back to sleep without needing to down a bunch of pills.

He's genuinely been trying to depend on them less and less. Abby notices it, too, and has incorporated you in her drawings now, standing beside her happy-looking brother.

It's her own way of saying "thank you", and you accept it wholeheartedly.

When Halloween rolled around, you and Mike got too work decorating the house, surprising his sister after you picked her up from school. She did mention how he used to do the "bare minimum" before you came along.

And by that, she meant that Mike only ever put a jack o'lantern outside, a bowl filled with cheap candy, and a sign that said "take one".

Well this year...you made sure to buy better candy bars for the kids this year and add the finishing touches to the outside of the house. After that, you both took her trick-or-treating.

While she was occupied at the current house, you and Mike stood back to admire all the decorations and other costumes people were wearing.

"I honestly thought that whole near-death experience with the robots would've scarred her for life, but...she's been doing better." He remarked. "A lot better. It's like nothing ever happened."

"Well..she did help those kids find justice. They never knew their killer was standing right in front of them..they just needed that little push to finally recognize him."

"I'm surprised she hasn't told the whole story to her teacher yet."

"...because she knows we'd probably get some phone calls about that." You chuckled lightly, squeezing his hand.

Then you noticed Abby leaving the house, running down the steps and about to cross the street to reunite with you-

"Hey, hey, hey." Mike let you go to put both hands out, and she stopped in her tracks, mere inches from the road. "What did we talk about before we left the house, Abs?"

"...look both ways before I cross the street?"

"Exactly."

Huffing, she quickly glanced to her left and right, deeming it safe to cross. And only then did she resume her sprint, removing her mask once she was in front of you. "[Y/n], look at all these chocolate bars I got so far!"

You looked into the pillowcase, nodding in agreement. "Wow, you did get a lot! I sure can't wait to gobble them all up when we get home." A coy smirk appeared on your lips, watching her eyes widen in shock.

"Nooooooo, they're mine!" Protectively holding the sweets to her chest, she pouted and looked to Mike for help, yet he simply shrugged.

"I dunno, Abby.." It was hard for him to hide his own smile. "[Y/n] and I gotta make sure they're safe to eat, so we're gonna take one bite of every single bar-"

"Now that's just cruel!" She stomped her foot.

"We're only joking, sweetie." With a chuckle, you ruffled her hair, watching as she put her mask back on. "I think the next street over has a little haunted house maze. Do you wanna go check it out?"

She perked up and nodded in response, heading down the sidewalk with a spring in her step. You linked arms with Mike and followed her, looking around at the rest of the decorations.

But your eyes soon lingered on your boyfriend's soft brown ones, and he gazed back at you for a few moments. "What?"

"Nothing." You shook your head, smiling lightly. "I'm just...glad to be with you."

"So am I." He kissed you on the cheek. "Thank you, truly..Abby deserves a good Halloween."

"I think we all deserve a good one."

Unbeknownst to the three of you, there was a peculiar figure standing across the way. He was hanging out near the trees, almost perfectly blending in with the surrounding darkness so that nobody else could notice him:

A large mechanical bear with dirty yellow fur, one ear, and one glowing blue eye, smiling fondly at Abby and her costume.

It's good to see that she had not forgotten.

[13agota]

Here's a tiny little ficlet because I have nothing better to do with my Sunday except ignore research PowerPoints and precharting. It didn't fit in any other longer form stories, but I still like the idea, so it's landing on Tumblr. SFW (for once)!

-

Kaz leans his back against the dirty brick wall. They've stopped next to a light fixture and it's brighter than he's comfortable with. He turns his head so the brim of his hat will shade his face.

Inej's hood shields her features from the eyes of the few passerbys as she notes the crags in the alley walls. She confirms she'll be able to climb them for a job later this week.

When Inej turns back to him, the light clearly illuminates her face as it emerges from the cave of her hood. Her eyes are gleaming. Two glossy shards of amber that twinkle in the light of the streetlamp's flame.

Kaz knows that look. She wants to try.

A tilt of his head is all the permission she needs, and her lips meet his.

It's both a small thing and it's not. They've worked up to this point for months. These days they can manage a kiss in the street as if it's never left then shaking on opposite ends of a room. It feels like nothing short of a miracle, though Kaz acknowledges he has no business being involved with anything of the sort.

Inej leans into it, and Kaz squeezes the crow head of his cane to keep from touching her waist.

It's not smart to do this in public. Two people canoodling against a wall at this hour hardly earns the batting of an eyelash, but if they're recognized, it's too much risk. The night is about as deep as it gets and people are starting to get sloppy, but he doesn't need anyone spotting the two of them in what is technically Razorgull territory. Even as his lips part for her, he tracks a reveler as he stumbles over the cobblestones.

Inej pulls back. "Distracted?" she says, though there's still mirth in her eyes.

"This streetlamp is bright. I'd hate for any familiar faces to find us in this neighborhood," he says as he peers around the corner behind him. The light cuts a shadow, obscuring the alleyway to their side in a wedge of blackness. He can't make out any movement there, and it's completely silent. Probably fine.

"You'd prefer somewhere less visible?" She asks.

"I'd prefer somewhere where only your Saints can see us."

"I could request a shady corner for us," she says, fitting her hips against his. "Should be easy enough in a place like Ketterdam for my Saints to arrange."

His gloved hand flutters instinctively to the curve of her back. He still isn't sure why she lets him to touch her like this. In dreams he leaves a black, tar-like substance on her skin, marring her shine. He wonders when she'll finally come to her senses and put an end to the way he stains her. On the days when the guilt gets strong enough, he hopes it's before his black heart swallows her whole.

"I suspect they wouldn't approve of Dirtyhands smothering their most treasured beacon of righteousness in the dark," he says.

A smirk tugs her pretty mouth. She side-eyes him, like he's missing something he should really know better by now.

"I'm the Wraith, remember?" she says. "The dark is my home. It belongs to me." And then she presses her lips to his again. Tugging on his waistcoat, she pulls him into the alley, over the shadowy threshold and into the dark.

[mandy4ever69420]

kinda to your point on ur post ab mandy it annoys me when ppl say that deleted (i think) scene where mickey’s like ‘don’t ever hit women’ is like #MaleFeministGoals when it’s just a pretty patriarchal view that women are weak and inferior and can’t fight back. when ppl edit that scene of all the boys going ‘pedophile hunting’ in like a badass way i just sigh bc like guarantee most of those men have assaulted or harassed women before, we know terry has. and that was the point of that scene to me, that it’s not about saving victims or whatever but about being a white knight and feeling good for defending the ‘vulnerable’ and what is their property. that’s why the scene where they find out it’s a woman is important. they don’t think women are capable of power so they don’t care.

anyway the writers decided they hated women after s2 so im sure they meant that as male feminist goals but i prefer s2 mickey’s ‘you don’t know my sister until you’ve fought my sister’ vibes. bc yeah. he sees her as an equal.

yeahhh!!! i don't recall the scene specifically so yes it was probably a deleted scene. it's a funny balance on the 'dont hit women' thing bc i myself for example know i would react SIGNIFICANTLY worse just on a gut instinct way to seeing a male character like mickey hit a woman the same way he hits men (specifically - when motivated by speech rather than retaliatory strikes, lol). & like part of this is due to the associations on a societal level with how much violence is directed at women by men in order to enforce patriarchy. male violence against women as a cultural phenomenon rather than an individual one is just more widespread and harmful, which is represented by individual occurrences. hmm. but part of it is just. how misogyny works. & the gut instinct level that it just feels worse to see.

there's not NOT a point to "don't hit women" like, WRT mickey's job in s4 to enforce against violent clients (mr patel) he's recognizing the pattern of someone who thinks a sex worker is less human, and wants to play out his fantasies about doing misogynistic harm to women through someone he can "get away with" hurting. also, because it's his job that svetlana specifically told him to do. lol

this also has to do with like... you'll see in shameless there are plenty of male abusers (kenyatta, terry, jody, kash & ian's abusers, also tommy is still canonically a pedophile, btw), but women who act abusively or are sexually coercive are much more likely to be sympathetic characters: mandy, debbie, karen, sveltana (with kev and v, the mickey thing is different. though i want to point out in s4 she did try to isolate him from ian as a support system by violence).

part of this is shameless falling into the idea that a woman doing it is "less bad" even as they critique that idea in other parts of the show. (also, they don't always seem to notice when something is assault) but the contexts in which these things happen ARE in fact really sad and messed up for these girls as well, & IMO there's a point here about how usually even SA, which people have very strong feelings about, can be done for sadass reasons. & that these are things you CAN recover and improve after - esp when willing (debbie having learned and telling carl he was assaulted - intent to prevent or sympathize with this), or when the other people involved are okay emotionally or forgiving

i imagine most people would like me be extremely unnerved if this was a point made using male characters even half as much. even though, like, technically it'd still be true. but man! i would not fucking like it if debbie and carl's plots were swapped. i refer specifically to how debbie treated derek delgado, which she did know was manipulative, not to how she acted with matt, who was grooming her and she didn't understand her behavior. ALSO: there's the aspect here that telling this story with a male character would've read SIGNIFICANTLY more as making excuses - as much as women perpetrating abuse is not taken as seriously, women are also held to much higher moral standards & hated more virulently for misdeeds. it'd look like a propaganda piece about how misogynistic violence is not that bad, actually!

i was pretty surprised and pleased that shameless was so on the ball with the 'pedo hunter' thing & establishing that terry milkovich is absolutely a pedophile. it's not that everyone with violent fantasies about attacking rapists is secretly compensating for one themself, but that a lot of these people have blindspots in recognizing their own behavior & are more excited about doing violence in a morally Righteous and protecting-our-women self-affirmation type of way. Also sometimes they are overdoing it to cover shit up.

come to think of it, i wonder if the reason so many people seem to have faith in mickey's brothers being "decent" is to do with the "i hate rapists, too" (s2) line? -- we know mickey is in fact protective & motivated by care wrt mandy & ian because we know him & we see the contexts he acts in & how he acts, but we have no such indications about anybody else having specific standards, rather than knowing there's a category of "bad person" (and person means man, in this mindset) that it's satisfying and righteous to violently retaliate against. also, doesn't sandy refer to mickey's brothers getting drunk and crawling into her bed? she was kind of referring to theft. but. like. well anyway

i know i really enjoyed watching mickey harass kash (satisfying) & i think when it comes to getting back at ian for "messing with mandy" there is something to be said there for protecting a girl you love against misogyny/misogynistic violence where possible. but you can't brush aside that retaliatory violence against sexual assault, especially mob violence (especially from a family full of white supremacists, good lord) has a really ugly self-serving history & doesn't necessarily indicate respect. & that is what was being invoked. a viewer should be put off by this or have a mixed response (again, the "dont hurt my sister thing" can also just. be nice) & not just because the info these guys were working with was inaccurate. also TBH i think you miss out on how impressive it IS that mickey is as good at boundaries and gentleness as he is if you refuse to understand the context of how bad violent mobs tracking down alleged rapists are and can be.

it's always really bothersome when people react to mickey's pimping as like a Big Misogyny like, not just because that's really not accurate, & it's reliant on the idea that these women don't have autonomy of their own. it also misses out on where you CAN see mickey interact with misogyny as a character trait. if you're too distressed by mickey calling svetlana a whore because she called him a pussy you're going to miss out on his occasional belief that women can't fight back, or have power. he falls for the manipulation of that pedophile in s3 (and has very sad sex right after walking away. also there's implications there) & he thinks it's embarrassing to be scared of his wife (even though he knows she's tough and intense). occasional because he can definitely tell that people like mandy, debbie, svetlana, and sandy have hands.

but also, like, when he's acting like a dick there it's treating these women as on equal footing. i saw a while ago someone try to read "we are thirsty" / "good thing theres a sink in the bathroom then huh" as, like, a damning mark on mickey's moral record. but man, i think svetlana was trying to figure out if mickey was white knighting, and if she could use that to her (& her coworkers') advantage. and he was like No because that's a very simple entry level manipulation that he's not going to fall for. also because the kind of white knighting she was checking for involves attraction (see: "nice guy" shit) and he is gay.

worthy of mention: mickey alleging that frank raped a girl, and mandy alleging that ian attempted to rape her are the same strategy in use to recruit. they each had their own agendas going on here & they both knew what'd get backup of people who are just excited to do violence. i wonder what this means about mickey maybe already knowing that mandy had been lying. i can see him realizing that if she was ACTUALLY hurt by someone she probably wouldn't have said anything but assuming she had her reasons anyway that she wouldn't disclose. 🤔🤔

there's also a point being made here about the fact that violent retaliation against abusers doesn't even necessarily do anything besides feel satisfying on an emotional level. when mickey is harassing kash, before we find out he's gay, ian grows more, not less, protective of kash, and feels more strongly attached. -> related to fiona's incredibly negative reaction when steve ditches frank in canada, contrast to mickey Not allowing ian to hurt kenyatta (though he also didn't want ian to do something he'd regret and get arrested)

[bnhaobservation]

My Hero Academia Ultra Archive (May 2, 2016) - Prototypes for Todoroki Shōto and Todoroki Enji

I'm pretty sure everyone saw those images around, but the translations are a bit harder to find (at least as far as I'm involved, I'm sure other people might have found it with ease).

So, since in my country this book was translated, I thought to share the translations of the prototypes of their character descriptions.

Keep in mind they were originally thought pretty different from the original and that this isn't a translation from Japanese to English, but from Japanese to Italian to English.

For who can't see the image here's the text.

Flame Hero

Endeavor

TODOROKI ENJI

He has a fire ability and can manipulate flames.

He has a completely (not really) heat-resistant suit.

Furthermore, thanks to an armor whose surface is coated with a special oil, he becomes a super cool guy who wears an armor made of flames.

He has an honest personality and abides by law and order above all else. Due to this, even if he is chasing a Villain he also stops at a traffic light and happens to lose sight of him.

Although as a Hero he leaves something to be desired, he is loved by the people.

He is incredibly strong and is in the top 5 in terms of popularity.

He has the ability, but he has always put in the effort.

Why is he so strong?

Because he has always been serious and tireless…

My two cents: Okay, I guess it wasn't decided yet he would be Number 2. Sure is, Enji is pretty different here. In another circumstance Horikoshi said he planned to have him be an U.A. teacher, so, although Shouto is, according to Horikoshi, the first or second class member he came up after Midoriya, Bakugo and Uraraka, it's possible Enji was planned before him as a teacher and then changed to fit the role Horikoshi wanted for him in Shouto's story. With the way they present him as so honest he would stop at a traffic light when chasing a Villain, I wonder if, originally, he was meant to be some sort of gag character. The fact he's loved by the people was clearly changed, since there's plenty of discussion when he inherit the mantle of Number 1 and he's, according to Horikoshi, the Number 1 among the Heroes that looks like Villains. Endeavor in canon has fans, but has also haters.

Well, at least the fact that he's a guy who put in a lot of effort was left.

On another note... this says Flame Hero (フレイムヒーロー) but in Vol 1 chap 3 Horikoshi called him 'Nenshō-kei Hero “Endeavor”' (燃焼系ヒーロー「エンデヴァー」 "Combustion hero ‘Endeavor’”) so I guess that although "Combustion Hero" was probably meant to be Enji's original name, Horikoshi here corrected the name so that fans could easily recognize him.

By the way, here we can see the evolution of Enji's costume

In chap 1 it was more or less the same as in the prototype.

In chap 3 the arm guards were changed slightly and so the colouring but the rest of the design was the same.

In chap 28 the chest are was changed slightly, as now the flames reached the center and didn't start halfway.

In chap 34 the neck has changed, we can see the belt is different and the pants are tight and the belt is different. The boots too are slightly different. Basically it's the custom Enji is meant to wear until he'll upgrade it as he'll turn the Number 1 Hero.

And now let's move to Shōto...

Recommended student

TODOROKI SHŌTO

Definitely dark, definitely strong.

He was born from a disgusting practice called 'crossbreeding' used to further strengthen a Quirk.

His mother, who had a boyfriend, was chosen by his father for this but then she lost her mind.

She hates half of her son and hurts him.

Shouto hates her and seeks affection from his father, who however is only interested in those who are strong.

Overcoming his father, becoming more powerful than him: for this reason he aspires to become a hero stronger than his father… that is, Todoroki Enji, the top Hero Endeavor.

My two cents: Okay, Shōto originally had... part of Tōya's backstory? With him searching Enji's love and being obsessed with becoming the strongest to get Enji's love?

Well, that's quite a change. Here it seems more like Rei was turned insane not so much by Enji's abuse but by having to give up on her loved one since Shōto shows no sympathy for her...

Definitely in the original Horikoshi had planned a rather different story. I wonder why he changed it and if he was unsatisfied with the change and that's why he kept on tampering with Shōto's past. Oh well, we probably will never know.

[greycappedjester]

I know it’s a lot of characters to sort but if you don’t mind sharing, where would you say the people in the DA fall in the spectrum of trust and fondness for Headmaster Ukai? On one side we have Oikawa who definitely does not trust or seemingly like him, and then we have Noya (I think?) who suggested the name Ukai’s army so he probably has some degree of trust/fondness for him. Where do most of the characters fall within that scale?

Oooh good question! I'd say it's currently*...

*in the 5th story for people who come across this post later. Since this list will certainly change

Least Trust:

1.) Oikawa-he doesn't trust practically anyone rn outside of his small group of friends and he especially doesn't trust people in authority and 2x especially anyone who was involved in the last war. Oikawa lives in rage and is definitely curently #1 to Stab an Authority Figure in their Sleep

2.) Daishou-this is definitely a lot less than Oikawa but I'd still say he'd be next in list sicne he is 1.) a Slytherin who aren't the most trusting bunch to begin with, 2.) raised around Uncle/Minister who never trusted Ukai and would likely let some of that slip, 3.) Knows how much of a fake his Uncle/Minister is and likely thinks Ukai as the other major war general hero is much the same

3.) Iwaizumi-oddly not because of that thing with the 2nd Task but that didn't help. Nah, Iwa-chan still definitely holds a grudge about that thing with Oikawa and the veritaserum from the begginning of 4th...even tho technically Oikawa took that by semi-choice

4.) Kuroo-similar to Daishou, he's way too familiar with politicians with fake public faces. Nothing really aganist Ukai in particular, just not big on public people who everyone seems to praise (which Ukai definitely was as a war general hero before this year with all the bad press aganist Hogwarts)

Ambivalent Range ie The I'm Just Not That Trustfull Bunch:

5.) Mika-matches up with Daishou in that she's not too trusting of anyone who technically has powr over her (by being her Headmaster)

6.) Yaku- Teenage Curmudgen(TM)

7.) Tsukishima- Teenage Misanthrope (TM)....ranks more trusting than Yaku since Tsuki's experience with Minister last year made his ostensible rival (the Headmaster) look better by comparison

8.) Makki & Matsu- Come On We're Still Slytherins Duo....really it's just that they have a bone deep rebellious streak and a long history of pranking

He's Alright, I Guess? Range:

9.) Kenma- Has genuinely never thought of the Headmaster much

10.) Ennoshita- Headmaster's way better than the Minister...2nd least trusting of the Crows so he sitll holds some resentment because of how the werewolf stuff was handled in 3rd story but likes that the Headmaster was able to keep it a secret from the press and student body

11.) Amani- Is a pretty friendly person in general

12.) Shimizu- Certified Teacher Friend (in a good, non-suck up way). I mean, come on, she's been a library assistant for forever. She was 100% the kid on the playground who would rather sit by the tachers and read quietly (this was me in elementary btw). She desn't really know the Headmaster but has genrally positive feelings towards the Hogwarts faculty

13. ) Yamaguchi- 3rd least trusting of Crows, too much time around Tsuki. Still has complicated feelings about 3rd story stuff. Pretty similar to Ennoshita, but Yamaguchi was raised more in the wizarding world so still has more of the Ukai-Great-War-General vibes

14.) Kageyama-Wait, what does this have to do about Quidditch?

Yes, I like Him Range:

15.) Yachi- "While there are some things I feel complicated about [insets paragraph] I also accept that human beigns are naturally flawed and that becasue he also did many good things like [inserts multiple paragraphs], I generally feel that our Headmaster is a good person though subject to human flaws as we all are" (Questioner has long since tuned out). Basically, Yachi's a good egg who recognizes flaws but aslo that everyone's a bit complicated

16.) Daichi-Genuinely appreciative of everything he's done for Asahi to let him attend and cover up aspects of what happened in 3rd.

The You Could Stab Me And I'd Say "Hey, You Dropped Your Knife" Crew....ie the just really trusting in genral bunch

17.) Bokuto- :)

18.) Hinata- :) (Oikawa voice in the background): He drugged you and left you in a forest! Hinata: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Headmaster is a Badass! Group/ Most Trusting and Genuinely Admire Him:

19.) Lev-Dude, Headmaster Ukai fought aganist the Giant! He's Awesome (But Scary)

20.) Tanaka- complicated family history which makes him greatly look up to a hero of the war who put a lot of Ghosts behind bars

21.) Asahi- Is very appreciative of Ukai for letting him attend Hogwarts and helping him with all the necessary paperwork

22.) Suga-Is so adamantly aganist his family's legacy that it fuels a bit of a blind side of viewing Headmaster's faults. He really does have some very secific blinders that come on when it comes to his family legacy. Overly trust figure of the oposite side is likely one of them.

23.) Noya- 2x admiration since Ukai also helped his uncle get in when he was a student and then helped Asahi and just in general has been just very cool about helping students of various creature legacies (like veelas, werewolves, dhampir, etc) into Hogwarts. Also Ukai's a war hero

Bonus:

Akaashi-who needs trust when I've got foresight?

In other words, Akaashi's too weird on what "trust" as a concept even is to put him on this list. How do you view trust when you genrally know for a sorta-fact how people will behave?

[stormyoceans]

Girllll this feels like a dream 😭😭😭 I'd love to watch jimmysea in the medical plot 🤌🏻 if you're looking for feedback tho, I think it would be nice if you could also add the romance storyline? If not for every couple, only for jimmysea. Only if it's not too much stress babe, I hope your main focus is having fun in this project 💜

ALL FEEDBACKS ARE MORE THAN WELCOME ESPECIALLY SINCE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IM DOING ;;;;;;;;;

i actually have so much material about this particular plot that i had no idea how to go about putting it down in a coherent way, so in the end i tried to write the kind of summary you would find on MDL, but i realize that without the romance part it's probably not very appealing ;;;;;;;;

im still not sure of how to make sense of everything i have in my head so im just gonna share my very messy notes about jimmysea's characters and their relationship (only them for now because if i did it for everyone we would be here for a really long time ;;;;;;;). here we go!!!!

sea: a bright young man who always has a smile on his face and seems to have no worries in the world. his happy-go-lucky personality and the fact that everything comes easy to him can make him come off as a bit arrogant, but he's actually surprisingly observant and caring. when he was 17 years old, his father died in the ER after a car accident, and because the other party involved was a boy from a wealthy family, sea has been convinced ever since that his father's death was due to the doctors choosing to prioritize the boy even if his condition was less severe. this loss inspired sea to study medicine to make sure that what happened to his father didn't happen to anyone else, but it also made him resentful, which is why he struggles to respect the hospital rules. this often puts him in conflict with earth, who thinks sea's natural talent isn't enough to justify his lack of discipline.

jimmy: the only medical student to have completed his specialization under the mentorship of jane's father and to have actually earned his respect, jimmy is now one of the most renowned surgeon in the country despite his young age. his charming and gentle personality makes him be liked and respected by everyone, but his workaholism has earned him the nickname of 'the ghost of [insert name] hospital', as he seems to hardly ever leave the place. after being left at the altar by the woman he loved, jimmy has given up on relationships entirely, throwing himself into work and constantly trying to dodge his sister's attempts to set him up with someone. his walls however start to slowly crumble under the power of sea's smile and small caring gestures.

basically on one of jimmy's usual late night at the hospital, he wonders into pediatric to discuss a case with mix and finds sea reading a bed time story to a small group of children. just like jimmy, sea too seems to be reticent to go home, so night after night they end up keeping each other company and spending more and more time together. at first it's just the two of them working in the same room, jimmy doing paperwork and sea studying for his upcoming medical exams, but eventually sea manages to coax him out of the hospital, first by taking him out to eat and then by taking him to sea's favorite places around town. sea is also full of small caring gestures that make jimmy's heart tremble: he leaves jimmy's favorite coffee on his desk for him to find after a particular rough night, he forces jimmy to take a break and get some rest, he cuts fruits for jimmy and is mindful of everything that has to do with jimmy's hands. as they get closer tho, jimmy also realizes that there's a lot more behind sea's smile than it first appears: sea's mother never quite recovered from the loss of her husband, and after three years from his death she started developing sever dementia, to the point she can no longer recognize sea and sometimes even mistakes him for her husband when sea smiles

in my head their relationship is a very slow burn as they help each other heal but also as they try to reconcile their feelings with the fact that they're still a mentor and an intern. earth is also jimmy's best friend and at first he very much does not approve of how close jimmy and sea became, but eventually he comes around

THIS IS MORE OR LESS IT IM SHUTTING UP NOW BYE

[pangolinheart]

Do you think that Rhiki and G'raha could mend their relationship one day?

You know, I don't think it's entirely impossible. It would probably take some concerted effort on of their parts.

Unfortunately, this is somewhat unlikely. Part of the problem is that G'raha doesn't seem like he really understands why Z'rhiki is uncomfortable around him (if he even notice that she is.)

G'raha has always loved tales of heroes, has always wanted to be a hero, so I don't think he necessarily recognizes how his elevation of the Warrior of Light to the apotheosis of epic heroes could feel dehumanizing to someone. He lavishes them with praise, attention, and accolades - how could that be a bad thing? He may not even realize that his image of the Warrior of Light, cultivated over 200 years of reading or listening to second-, third-, and fourth-hand sources, might not be completely consistent with who Z'rhiki is as a person.

He also appears all too happy to move past the things he, personally, put the WoL through on the first. Rhiki tries not to hold the fact that he kidnapped her and her friends and put them all in extreme danger both intentionally and unintentionally against him - he didn't have much of a choice if he wanted to save the First. These may have been unpleasant, but they were necessary. What wasn't necessary to save the First, however, was him lying to her and manipulating her, and she'll happily hold those things against him. It definitely feels to Rhiki like he was positioning her as a prop for the heroic tale he wanted to be a character in. He didn't try to sacrifice himself because he cared about her. He did it because that was the role in the story he wanted to play, because it was the ending to a story he had scripted for himself.

Unfortunately, Rhiki is probably not aiding in a reconciliation either. She understands that he went through more than his fair share of hardship in order to prevent the destruction of two worlds. He was in an impossible position and had to do the best with what he had. And she also knows that he idolizes her (or at least the pristine statue of her he's constructed in his mind), She doesn't want to be mean to him. She doesn't want to hurt him, despite everything. A part of her wants to scream at him until her voice is hoarse, or maybe to punch him as hard as she can at least once, but she knows that's not fair, and she doesn't want to pass her pain onto someone else. She also feels like trying to force him to recognize her as a person would rob him of his hero, his personal symbol of hope... which might break his heart. However, all this means she just avoids the issue. She doesn't try to talk to him about it, doesn't try to set him straight. She just tries to avoid having to be around him, or maybe makes some snide comments to lightly discourage him from wanting to hang around her.

Mending their relationship would probably require a lot of awkwardness for everyone involved. It would require Z'rhiki to actually talk to G'raha about her feelings and frustrations, which might involve hurting his feelings. And it would require some self-reflection on G'raha's part, and a willingness to see from her perspective. He would need to recognize his past shortcomings - and not just the self-deprecating ones he already sees in himself. He would need to give her space for a while. Deep down, she wants to forgive him, but she's just not there yet. It would also probably take some bonding experiences (and no, studying Ancient Allag does not count as bonding in Rhiki's eyes). He would have to get to know Z'rhiki as a person and let go of his conceptions about the Warrior of Light, and Z'rhiki would have to let him. It would be less "repairing their relationship" and more "rebuilding it from the ground up." It would be tenuous at first, but if they kept at it they might be able to forge a new friendship.

[koifishart]

I want to be Your Koi Fish - Nine Tails

Warning: +18 content, criminal underworld, intercourse, strong language - and so on

Fanfiction based on: "Baki" by Itagaki Keisuke

>18<

The police rarely showed up at his place for casual chat. Inspector Sonoda was the one exception with which the arrangements even paid off for him. In addition, they were both involved in the case of the escaped prisoners, he delivered to his police station, as he then believed, a barely alive Spec. In fact, he did because he was closest there - Morio was active in Shinjuku, as was Kaoru. He did not intend to do more than this one incident for the police, but the inspector did contact him from time to time. So they sat sipping whiskey, talking about a few loose topics and a few less. After all, they were bound by territories, it was proper to live in proper terms, unless the situation called for something else. However, he knew perfectly well that Sonoda did not want to mess with him. With Hanayama, the police at all levels preferred to be careful. Hanabi didn't even flinch as the inspector waited for her to leave. He thought they would be alone, he was wrong. This time he was not going to drive her out. He knew he was prancing up his ears and would probably cut in at some point, but that didn't bother him. She let her hair loose, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear to reveal a row of earrings. She was seated again with her laptop on her lap, wearing a light, floral sleeveless blouse, white slacks, and openwork, heavily cut ankle boots with a high, narrow heel. On the finger there was an inseparable ring with three diamonds arranged in the shape of a lotus. The visitor was clearly embarrassed to talk in front of her, but the yakuza didn't care. The key is not to waste his precious time.

- At least we've got the escapees out of our minds! - He laughed finally, a bit nervously.

- I would hold back on such judgments, Inspector. You sound like you've forgotten how much damage they've done. - Hanabi said, turning her head. - I recommend extreme caution.

- They're harmless now. - he snorted, waving his hand.

- I may be ignorant ... but due to my experience, people like them become harmless when they are dead. - she replied firmly. - I hope your superiors, Inspector, have at least offered to look at what is happening to them and that it will be done properly. We don't need a repeat of the entertainment in Shinjuku. I suppose not the police either.

- Yes, I'm going to do this myself. - he grunted reluctantly.

She was wonderful at expressing his thoughts in words. Although he perfectly remembered the condition in which he had thrown a 97-year-old serial killer on the hospital bed, his wife was right - not just any hurdles, but a bunch of guys with the opinion of the most dangerous murderers in the world. The probability that they were pretending to be insane or gathering strength while allegedly dying was very high. Which meant the police would have a problem again any minute. He was quietly hoping for a repeat, though the Spec had spoiled him enough.

As it turned out, she was not much wrong. In less than a few weeks, television was buzzing with news of a fugitive running happily through the streets of Tokyo. He didn't need to listen further to know that law enforcement didn't deal very well with this type of opponent. He had absolutely no business helping them. The specialist personally barred their way as they strolled around the city in the evening. It was unfortunate that the cops were following him. Hanayama noticed this as the side alleys were swarming with special forces. Hanabi stopped short at the sight of a two-meter-tall bald man in a dark, loose tracksuit. He could almost feel it being bristled, and goose bumps peeked under the light sweater that draped over the dark skirt. She remembered him, recognized him even though she had only seen him once, on her first visit to the Arena. Worse, she had no plans to back out. He wasn't going to let a hair fall off her head. He took a step forward, tucking his glasses into the pocket of his suit.

- I was hoping to meet you boy! - the condemned man laughed, taking off his sweatshirt. - We have a small, unfinished business.

As usual, he delivered the first blow that hit Kaoru right in the face. Hanabi stepped back slightly, respected his methods, rather not intending to intervene unnecessarily. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Sonoda coming out of hiding. He did not have time to wonder what the police would do in this situation. The opponent tried one of his aces again: an extremely fast attack with apnea. The blows turned out to be much faster and stronger than before, he didn't know by what miracle, but despite lying still in intensive care, as Hanayama imagined, Spec returned to his former form and even strengthened. Not only him. Kaoru curled his hand into a fist and, finding a gap in the hail of blows, struck right in the jaw, sending him running far ahead. The latter, however, recovered surprisingly quickly, setting the loosened jaw joint with his wide hand and struck it with a high kick this time. The young yakuza landed right under his wife's feet, he was not going to give up. The spec, on the other hand, changed the goal. He walked as if nothing had happened to the frozen dark-haired woman.

- What a beauty ... and that fearless look! You'd probably be very pissed if I broke her neck? - he asked innocently, extending his arm towards her. - Your girlfriend?

The great tattooed paw was held back by a tiny hand, a steel grip holding back the attack so the other could dig her fingers into a sore point in the armpit. A man's muscled arm dropped loosely, and a moment later another followed, barely trying to slide towards her. The spec stood stunned, and in a split second she was on his shoulders, sitting like a small child on the nape of his father.

- Maybe I'm not as strong as my husband, but definitely faster. - she murmured in a low tone, pressing down on another vital point.

The fugitive lost control of his whole body, fell like a long one on smooth asphalt, and she landed with her own lightness, tapping the lacquered pumps with her high heels. He had spent so much time with her that he forgot what she was doing. In fact, he never asked for details of the contract killer trade. Not only Hanayama was surprised to see the tiny woman who knocked down a huge, insanely dangerous man in seconds. With a staggering step, disbelief clearly written on his face, none other than the police inspector approached them.

- Do you have a wanted poster for that fugitive, Sonoda-san? - she asked innocently.

- Y ... yes ... - he muttered, still in shock.

- So you'll call for the full amount for the DEAD option. - she replied firmly, adjusting the tie on Hanayayama's massive neck - In cash, preferably in beautiful brand new, colorful yen.

- The ... hehehe ... I escaped the death penalty, girl ... - groaned the still immobilized Spec.

- Relax, it will catch up with you. Judging by the tattoos you like rituals ... so I'll give you ritual death. - she muttered, crouching beside him, examining the drawings on his hands, then added, turning her head slightly. - Of course you are invited, Inspector. You will be able to confirm that the punishment has reached the fugitive.

- Kizaki, we have something big to transport. - Kaoru muttered into the phone.

He wondered what she was planning, he was a bit afraid of what would happen next, but ... at the same time he was terribly curious. He didn't mind killing those who deserved it, and the death penalty had long hung over Spec. Hanabi did not reveal the details to him, but she took care of a certain setting. As she promised, it was supposed to be a ritual death. He thought he would rely on traditional seppuku*, but it's hard to get someone like that to commit suicide, right? As soon as he expressed this suspicion, she quickly shook her head and added that the gaijin** was not worthy of a samurai death. Prepared as usual, he admired the accuracy with which she was able to handle such tasks. She learned a little about her victim and combined with her own knowledge ... to create a quite coherent whole. American, globetrotter, fighter. There was only one way out of this equation.

At her command, a makeshift sacrificial altar, unlike anything he had ever seen, was erected in the valley outside the city. He was not from Asia. He was too crude, crude, and the patterns of wolves or snakes did not match any of the beliefs he had heard of. In the middle is Spec, slung by his hands, restrained by shackles blocking the flow of chi. She was not going to let him escape, he was absolutely going to die there. Behind him stood two fireplaces, one with a knife heating in it and the other with an ax. The cream of the triad he headed has gathered. The Mafia wanted to see how ruthless their boss's woman was, or rather whether she was what she was meant to be. Hanayama was absolutely sure that Shiro Kitsune would not disappoint their expectations. Sonoda appeared along with Bisquit Oliva, which has been inseparable for some time. Out of the corner of his eye, somewhere in the trees, he also picked out the silhouettes of Baki and Kozue. He guessed that the girl did not believe that Hanabi was capable of murder, and the boy did not want to let her go alone to such a dangerous place. Finally she arrived, completely calm, in a white fur tightly covering her with a large hood. All he could see was a light, flowing, long black dress, or rather its lower part, covering the legs. Judging by her height, she arrived barefoot. She stood in front of the condemned man when he woke up and tried to break free from the shackles. She neutralized him while he was asleep. Sometimes this skill terrified him. It was enough to touch a few places that a person would not be able to use their full potential. So petite, so tiny, and she could easily knock a large man down to force him into submission. The prisoner looked at her very differently than before. Despite his rather cheerful disposition, he was furious. It's hard to be surprised.

- You'd have to bring in the Death God himself to kill me, little girl. - he gasped with difficulty.

- It's funny that you ask for it, because that was my plan. - she muttered, tossing the fur over her back.

A long, flowing, yet tight-fitting black dress, revealing the shoulders, with a slit at the left leg, reaching the hip bone. He took a closer look. If she pampered the smallest detail of each of her orders in this way, he was not surprised that she was sometimes exhausted, and also so much in demand - long after the wedding she received messages to which she stubbornly replied "NO". She made her victim fear. The left side of the body, including the face, was painted to look like an anatomically perfect skeleton, glistening with green, fluorescent paint, strongly reflecting against a black background. It made her look half alive. Even her eyes seemed to glow differently than ever. The character she chose was familiar to the fugitive.

- The Norse goddess Hel*** ... - he muttered, shocked and as if impressed. - Why ... she?

- I'm just going to send you to her. - she replied again in that low, creepy tone. - Vikings, great travelers, like you, I suppose, believed that all the unworthy, dishonorable and filthy go to this goddess ... so why not?

She entered the altar, still completely calm, even winter and professional. But through his skin he could feel her excitement, excitement. He had felt it before when she prepared the whole plan at home. She was enjoying it as if she had returned to her beloved, long-abandoned job. Before she stood behind Spec's back, she reached for his increasingly frightened face, though it might as well be a play of appearances, and hissed:

- You will howl in pain to fly into the clouds like an eagle with outstretched wings. You will not know the goodness of Odin's honey after death.

Kaoru held his breath as she finally walked over to one of the hearths and took a hot knife out of it, which she skillfully used to cut the skin on the man's back. The condemned man let out a long howl, unable to endure the searing pain. The first drops of blood fell to the ground, slowly gaining strength. When she had made the right incision and spread the dripping flaps to the sides, she put the blade into the fire to take the ax handle with both hands and forcefully slash it straight in the back. The stench of burning human flesh rose in the air, the crunch of chopped ribs and a wild scream, and she continued, completely ignoring the red stains on her face. The man was losing consciousness more and more with each passing moment. Finally she put down the gun to open his chest with her own hands covered with black gloves. Nobody twitched or made any sound, only heard Kozue's muffled groan from the distance, at the sight of the still throbbing lungs laying on his muscular arms. Spec's head dangled loosely, Hanayama could see only a few last tiny nervous tics. To finish the ritual, she reached with her dirty right hand, leaving a streak of blood on her cheek.

- Hel, the ancient goddess of death, worshiped by the great Vikings, accept this stray soul for she is unworthy of Valhalla. - she said sternly, descending the altar, disgusting at the same time lapping the rest of the juice on the face of the dead man with the rest of the juice from her hand.

He had never seen anything like it, but he could not afford to lower his jaw to the ground. The yakuza boss should be tough and unshakable. Instead of showing surprise, the most calmly in the world he approached his wife and draped a pale fur over her shoulders. She accepted it gratefully, taking off her gloves and taking his massive hand. As she walked a few paces away to speak to the stunned and also apparently disgusted inspector, a large African American stepped in front of her, bowing to her.

- I salute your artistry, Mistress Unchained **** - he muttered proudly.

She didn't react, just looked at Sonoda to remind him of the money for cleaning up the mess.

____________________________

* seppuku - honorary suicide, the ritual of taking one's own life in ancient Japan, which is a privilege of the samurai caste; it resulted from the Bushido code;

** gaijin - foreigner

***As the White Kitsune is sometimes taken as an omen of death, it was logical to associate it with one of the goddesses of the world of the dead; for Hanabi it was natural to choose the Scandinavian goddess Hel;

****Mistress Unchained - a title loosely given to her only by Oliva, meant to mean the equivalent of a freed prisoner (Hanabi has never been in prison);

[crossdressingdeath]

HOLY SHIT THAT ALARIS BACKSTORY! How does this affect things come Inquisition? I feel that both Cassandra's personal quest and ANYTHING involving Cullen are going to be fascinating.

The really fun thing with Cullen is that he doesn't remember or recognize Alaris at all. After all, why would he remember some random "girl" (...oh yeah, side note, Alaris is trans now. Don't think I've mentioned that on Tumblr before, I've been getting up to gender shenanigans) telling "lies" about a Templar? Mages lie all the time, why should he take any note of it? And no one notices the Tranquil at all. Alaris meanwhile absolutely remembers Cullen. This makes some conversations, notably the one where Cullen insists that Meredith hid "the things he'd question" from him, come across very differently from how Cullen probably intended them to. The general vibe is very much "You ruined my life and it was so standard for you you don't even remember it and you're telling me you didn't question that?"

With Cassandra that conversation after her personal quest where she's like "Oh... I suppose there's a cure for Tranquility... but they might stay super emotional after they're cured so maybe we shouldn't cure them... I'll have to investigate..." lives in my head rent-free with Alaris especially. Because like... it's a horrific thing anyway, the way Cassandra entirely casually suggests that ex-Tranquil maybe being more emotional than the average person who was never Tranquil (on the grounds that one guy was a little emotional in the first like. week of being cured and it made other people a bit uncomfortable! That's all the proof she's got!) might mean that they shouldn't be cured of having their emotions burned out of them by the Chantry is a whole thing that the game does not explore at all. But with Alaris it's like... in my head he's mostly good at staying calm and sweet and controlled but sometimes his temper bursts out of him unexpectedly and even he doesn't know if he always would've been like that or if it's a side effect of having been Tranquil and he still wouldn't go back to being Tranquil for anything. And he wants to scream at Cassandra for daring to suggest that his life isn't worth living because maybe he's a little temperamental at times, but he can't because admitting that he was Tranquil means admitting that he was cured, and the only known cure for Tranquility is possession and he can't trust the Inquisition not to kill him at the first opportunity for having been possessed even though he isn't anymore. Also the bit in the first conversation after her quest where she asks about Tranquility and one response is "You mutilate mages" and she says she always thought of it as a necessary evil hits very different when playing a former Tranquil.

(Also, one I find very interesting with this situation is actually Sera? Because she's got her whole thing where she openly thinks elves and mages aren't little people when in fact they are the very definition of little people, and in this worldstate Alaris is sitting there listening to her talk like he's never suffered and the whole time he's thinking "I was nothing, less than nothing, little better than a talking table in the eyes of the world, and you have the fucking gall to sit there with your noble upbringing and your freedom and your access to the funds to do things like travel all across Thedas and talk like I didn't deserve to be saved" and he can't say any of it.)

[starry-blue-echoes]

Thinking 'bout everyone else's thoughts on Jonathan's situation in Peanut Gallery instead of sleeping-

Joseph was expecting Gramps to be like, this figure he could never live up to, that's kinda how it was for him with all the stories of Jonathan - but instead Jonathan is humble and that kindness hits different first-hand and it's not like it's effortless for him either like the stories would have Joseph believe - and then Jonathan lets down his guard a bit, lets show just how terrified he is of the inevitable approaching death, of how he failed the family, and... Joseph can't help but desperately want to help somehow, even if it's impossible.

Jotaro was angry at first. Didn't quite know how to feel about All This and it translated into anger at Jonathan for failing, for leaving all this to his descendants. And eventually he yells at Jonathan about as much to his face. And Jonathan just takes it. Agrees with him, even. And then he starts to see, the little hints that Jonathan really isn't as okay as he seems, subtle hints that are kind of the same way Jotaro expresses shit, and- But he's doomed. Might as well be dead already. And Jotaro acts like it doesn't bother him.

Josuke isn't as drawn into all this drama at first, Jonathan's just fun to be around and a total sweetheart, nice, cool. No complicated feelings. But towards the end he gets a glimpse of just how much is hiding under that Perfect Gentleman act, how hard Jonathan is trying to help all the others, and the 'im the healer I'm responsible for everyone's wellbeing' thing kicks in. But it's too late. Just like it was for his own grandpa.

Giorno, hoo boy. He's so happy to know he has a father who loves him unconditionally, who would've done anything to be with him and help and take care of him, and a bit bitterly resigned to Jonathan's death- of course the only positive parental figure he could've hoped for was dead a century ago, unsavable even now. But he recognizes how complicated this must be on Jonathan's end and keeps his distance as so not to be a bother, and Jonathan assumes Gio doesn't want to deal with him and so keeps HIS distance, till close to the end, when Jonathan decides he has to at least get closure with his son before going to his inevitable death. And he tells Giorno how much he loves him just for being his son, how proud he is, how much he wishes he could've been there, everything Giorno desperately wanted to hear, but they both know it won't, can't, amount to anything, that Jonathan won't get the chance to act on his promises and love.

Jolyne's probably the most removed from the whole Situation. It's a tragedy, but one she's less involved in than the rest. She's not there during Stone Ocean with the peanut gallery when the fact that /he's going to die and SOON/ really starts to fully sink in for Jonathan, generations removed from him in the bloodline. But he was still kind, and caring, and apologized profusely for leaving so much of the fight left for her, and even if she was entirely unconnected to him she'd want better for him.

And in the end, in the new timeline, in the vague part 6 time period, the entire family gets to be there and together with full memories of the time traveling peanut gallery adventure -

All 5 of them.

All of them except Jonathan.

YESSSSSSSSSSSS

Oh I love all this so much

Joseph's heard so much about his grandfather. How he was kind and brave and sweet and strong and so many things that built him up as this paragon of a human being. Erina and Speedwagon made sure Joseph knew all about the things Jonathan did, and upon meeting him, while it becomes very obvious they weren't exaggerating in the slightest....... watching Jonathan fight Dio and meeting him in person also makes it clear he's just that. A person. Just like his granny and uncle, Jonathan can hurt and make mistakes and be scared. He was just a good person thrown into awful situations and decided to stay kind despite everything being thrown at him

Jotaro....... with him it's more complicated. Going in to Jonathan's journey knowing he wouldn't win....... it sucked. Knowing that his story wasn't a happy one, knowing that no matter what happened he was doomed to fail, knowing that because of Dio's fuckery he never got his happily ever after was eating him up. Dio's the source of almost all his anger, at how many lives this bastard has destroyed just because he wasn't satisfied with what he gained and wanted more. Unfortunately for Jotaro and everyone in the general vicinity, there isn't a whole lot Jotaro can do to deal with this anger and he accidentally ends up lashing out at Jonathan a few times during the Battle Tendency portion of everything.

Emotions are running high, everyone's still a bit shaken from Jonathan's death, Jotaro's stressing out about his turn being next, and it just. Doesn't go well for anyone. He does chill out a solid amount after Stardust, and Jonathan and Joseph are able to help him work through the grief of losing a close friend. He does apologize, and slowly starts trying to help Jonathan stop blaming himself for everything that went down

Josuke and Jolyne are definitely the most disconnected from all the Jonathan Drama. Sure they're worried about him because they're Good People Who Care, but it doesn't go much deeper than a family bond. Josuke had essentially zero ties with Dio specifically, and Jolyne doesn't blame Jonathan in the slightest for anything he "indirectly" caused. They want Jonathan to be happy and don't really understand the drama, but they do their best to mediate and help out the others when they need it

but then on the COMPLETE other end of the spectrum we have Giorno and ho fucking boy are things complicated here :)

Jonathan is both absolutely overjoyed and absolutely heartbroken that Giorno is his son. On one hand, why wouldn't he be happy? This boy is his son, and he is going to love him regardless of everything. But on the other, the crushing knowledge that his time with Giorno is so very limited and the fears that the boy might not even reciprocate this love. This is of course very not true, Giorno is 110% up for bonding with Jonathan but he's also dealing with the complications that came with his...... conception. How he isn't really Jonathan's kid, that he's Dio's instead and Dio was the one who made the choice to be with his mother, etc, etc

speaking off....... the Dio realization isn't going to be fun for ANYONE. No one blames Giorno of course, but it shakes everyone up, Giorno the most. After all, he's seen the horrors this man has done to innocent people, to his family. How his influence spread long after his death and continued to hurt and kill people for literal generations

Of course, there is some confusion from everyone for a bit because "wait, how does Giorno have the Joestar birthmark then???"....... except for Jotaro. He knows Dio stole Jonathan's body, but isn't quite sure how to bring it up since....... yeah

but eventually, probably with some nudging from everyone else, Jonathan and Giorno start to interact more. They talk, about their lives, what they like, about each other, and slowly begin to truly bond. The others do what they can to let the two spend the most time possible together so they can just....... enjoy it

when Giorno remembers, the first thing he does is change his name from Giorno Kujo to Giorno Joestar and visit his father's grave

[foundtherightwords]

All Our Yesterdays - Chapter 3

Pairing: Ralph (Timewasters) x OFC

Summary: Thu, a museum archivist, only wants to escape her dull life in 21st-century Hanoi. The last thing she expects is to end up in 1929 Indochina via a time-traveling elevator and cross paths with Ralph, an Englishman on the run from the French Foreign Legion. Romance blossoms between them, but in a colonized country, unrest is always looming on the horizon, and Thu must decide if she wants to stay with Ralph in the past or return to the safety of the future.

Warnings: outdated/period-typical attitudes about women, mentions of war, mentions of pregnancy and abortion (involving a supporting character), some angst, some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter word count: 4.7k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3

For a fleeting moment, while her brain was still heavy with sleep, Thu thought she was at her grandparents' house in the Hue countryside for the summer holiday. Everything was still. The sound of traffic that woke her up every morning was absent, and somewhere in the distance, impossibly, a rooster was crowing. Then she felt a strange pillow under her cheek, felt a crick in her back from sleeping curled up on the couch, remembered what had happened the night before, and bolted up.

It was no dream then. She was still in the room with the old-fashioned tiled floor and the rattan furniture. A clock on the cupboard told her it was just after six, her usual time of getting up. Good to know that even almost a hundred years into the past, her circadian rhythm was still the same.

The bright early morning light streaming through the window helped to clear her head. She had been such an idiot the previous night. It was the shock that got to her. But now that she'd gotten some rest, she knew what she had to do, and it was so absurdly simple that she wondered why she didn't think of it sooner.

The bedroom door was still closed, and she didn't want to wake Ralph. She found a piece of paper from her backpack, scribbled "I'm going back to the future. (She couldn't stop herself from dropping a little reference, even though he wouldn't understand it.) Thank you for all your help, Thu" on it, and left it under the coffee cup on the table. Then, lifting up her backpack, she set out for Tràng Tiền Street—Rue Paul Bert, she remembered to correct herself.

It was early, and though the streets were busier than they were at night, it was nothing compared to the seething hive of modern Hanoi. Office workers probably wouldn't start their day for another hour, and most people she met were day laborers and street vendors, just like it was in her time. Funny how some things never changed. A woman walked past, dressing in the rural style of a brown tunic and black skirt, her hair hidden under a black scarf, carrying a steaming basket on her head. "Hot sticky rice!" she called. "Come get your hot sticky rice!" The warm scent of the steamed rice topped with crispy onion wafted toward Thu, making her mouth water and her stomach growl. She remembered she hadn't had anything to eat except for a mouthful of dry bread since the previous night. But her money was no good here. So she swallowed and walked on.

The way from Ralph's lodgings to the IDEO Printing House was less than one kilometer, but without the familiar landmarks, Thu had some difficulty in finding her way. Eventually, though, she recognized the façades of several buildings and found herself in front of the Printing House once more. Already workers were filing in through the front door, and the hunks of machinery she glimpsed the previous night - printing presses, she now knew - were shuddering into life. Thu mingled in with the stream of workers, hoping she could pass unnoticed.

No such luck. A man in Western clothes, looking like a foreman, stepped in front of her. "Can I help you, uh, miss?" he said in Vietnamese, sizing her up.

"Uh, yes, I'm here to see the director," Thu said in what she hoped was a confident voice. "My boss wishes to have some visiting cards printed."

"The director's not in," the man said. "You can talk to me about any order you wish to place."

"But my boss insisted on speaking to the director himself."

"Who's your boss?"

"Uh, Monsieur Davinier, a photographer on Tràng Thi—I mean, Rue Borgnis Desbordes," Thu said, using the first name that came into her mind. "Really, I won't be a minute." She pushed past the foreman and rushed into the elevator. It had now changed from the slick design of the 21st century into an old-fashioned style, the kind with two sets of doors that you had to close by hand before the elevator could move.

The foreman was shouting for the workers to stop her, but she ignored them and pulled the two doors shut.

That was when she realized she had no idea what number to press on the keypad.

Would "2023" work? But there was no "0" button.

Wait, there was a "∞" button she hadn't noticed before. Could she use that?

"Here goes nothing," she said under her breath and pressed 2 - ∞ - 2 - 3.

Nothing. Perhaps just 2 - 3 then?

No.

2 - 3 - ∞? Still no.

She pressed 2 - ∞ - 2 - 3 again, really pressed them this time, as if doing so would make it work.

Still nothing. The elevator didn't move. It didn't even beep.

"No, no, no," she muttered, running her hand over the keypad, searching for—what? She didn't know. Some evidence, some sign to show her which buttons to press. But there was nothing.

As she stared at the keypad in dismay, the doors were yanked open. The foreman pulled her out. "This is a workplace," he said, dragging her across the factory floor, "not a fairground for you to play around in! Get lost!"

"But—wait—" But this is my way home, she tried to say. The only way!

"Get lost or I'll call the gendarmes!" the foreman said, shoving her through the door.

Thu stared at the ink-coated door of the Printing House. It wasn't until now that she realized she hadn't truly believed this was happening. She had been able to stay so calm throughout the previous night because she had thought this was all just a nightmare, and she could end it simply by stepping back into the elevator. All her hope had rested on it. She should have realized that it wouldn't be that easy. She might be stuck here for the rest of her life.

A sudden feeling of complete, utter loss washed over her. She had never had a panic attack, but she was pretty sure she could feel one coming on now. Her heart started racing, her body alternated between freezing and burning up, and she trembled all over, unable to move.

The ruckus from her trespass into the Printing House had already caught the attention of some curious onlookers, and now her crying was attracting a crowd. Suspicious murmurs rose around her, speculating about her outlandish appearance, her strange behavior. Over her own hyperventilating breaths, Thu caught a few words, "crazy" and "madhouse" and "police". She wanted to defend herself or to run away, but her legs wouldn't move, and she could only stand there, gasping like an idiot, while the rubberneckers surrounded her like a gloomy cloud.

A figure in white parted the cloud and came running to her side.

"What's happened?" the figure asked in English. It was Ralph.

That familiar smell was back, and it came to her in a flash—Palmolive soap, the same kind she used at home.

At the memory, strangely enough, Thu's panic subsided. "It's... it's not working," she said, trying to get her breath back. "The elevator, the lift, the time machine, whatever. I thought I could get it to work, but I can't." By now, the crowd around them had swollen to a mob. Ralph looked around warily.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he said, giving her arm a clumsy little pat and steering her away.

***

They went back to Ralph's rooms on Rue Borgnis Desbordes. Over breakfast - more coffee, bread (fresh this time, but still no butter), and eggs, boiled by Ralph over a spirit lamp - Thu told him what had happened with the elevator.

"I think Homeless Pete is the only one that can operate it," he said, once she'd finished.

"Do you know how to find him? Can you call home or—I don't know, send a cable or something, to see if the jazz quartet was still there and if they have any information for me?" Of course, if the other time travelers were still stuck in London to receive Ralph's message, it would mean they hadn't found a way home and she would be stuck as well.

A furtive look came into Ralph's eyes. "I—I can't. I—uh—I don't have their address. Sorry."

Thu remembered how she'd wondered about him the previous night, and now she studied him more closely. "What are you doing in Indochina anyway?" she asked.

"I—uh, I wanted to see the world."

"Last night you called Hanoi a mosquito-infested hellhole!"

"It has its charms, all right?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. She had always been careful not to judge a book by its cover, but even so, she had to admit that it was difficult to be suspicious of Ralph. He looked about as threatening as a puppy, with an open, trusting face, round eyes that the morning light showed to be a warm brown rather than dark brown as she'd thought, and light brown hair pomaded close to his head in the fashion of the time, though a rebellious curl over his forehead refused to be tamed. If the curl rose up any higher, he would be a dead ringer for an older Alfalfa from The Little Rascals.

There was definitely something he wasn't telling her, but Thu decided to let it go. It was none of her business. Getting home was what she should focus on, and to do that, she must find Homeless Pete. Well, a Western homeless man in French colonial Hanoi shouldn't be hard to find, should he? That was to say, if he wanted to be found in the first place...

"Look, Homeless Pete is like a bad penny," Ralph said. "He always turns up."

Thu stared blankly at him. That particular idiom had never made sense to her.

"In the meantime," he continued, "why don't you try to—I don't know, have fun a little?"

"You don't understand," she said. "I can't just drop everything to have a romp through history, all right? I have a life back in 2023! I have responsibilities!" Had she gone missing in her time? Were her parents freaking out right now?

"Well, you're already here," Ralph said with a shrug. "What else can you do?"

His calmness made her stop for a minute. Perhaps there was some truth in what he said. Panicking would help no one right now. She was in 1920s Hanoi. She was having a romp through history, whether she wanted to or not. True, she was woefully unprepared, but she knew her history well enough to understand that there were worse, much worse times in Vietnam's sad and tumultuous past to arrive in. She could have ended up in the Famine of 1945. She could have ended up in the Christmas bombing of 1972. She could have ended up in the Tây Sơn Uprising of the 18th century. Here she was, in a relatively peaceful time, colonization notwithstanding, with relatively modern amenities and relatively modern sensibilities. The country had its first wave of feminism, its first taste of romanticism in art and literature, and modernization, all around this time. So why not make the most of it and have fun, as Homeless Pete had instructed?

"OK, so it looks like I'm stuck here for the time being," she said slowly. "I suppose I could try to explore a bit and enjoy myself."

Ralph smiled, relieved. "That's good," he said. "That's what Lauren and her friends did too."

"The jazz quartet?"

"Yes." Ralph turned slightly pink. "Lauren, Jason, Horace, and Nick. They had a blast. Well, except for Nick. Last I heard, he got taken in by a eugenic cult."

Thu raised an eyebrow at that. Hopefully, 1920s Hanoi would be less insane.

***

Once breakfast was finished, Thu made an inventory of the contents of her backpack and compiled a list of all the things she would need for her stay. So far, the only useful things in her backpack were her medicine - how lucky that she had just gone to the pharmacist during her lunch break the previous day (it already seemed so long ago! Well, it was a long time ago. 94 years ago, to be exact) to refill her birth control as well as to pick up a few basics like painkillers and vitamins. Her phone and portable charger were useless. Her money, useless. And so her list looked like this:

- Money?????

- Clothes (áo dài?? Can't buy until have money)

- Essentials: toothbrush, hairbrush, towels, etc. (again, no money)

- A place to stay (can't crash on Ralph's couch forever, again, no money)

"What did your jazz friends do for money, when they were in 1926 London?" Thu asked Ralph, who had been watching her with the same awed look he had the previous night.

"We—that is, my sister, Victoria, and I—we—uh, we kind of take them in," he replied.

"And so they just freeloaded off of you? You can afford that?" Thu stared at him. "You must be filthy rich!"

"I don't know about that..."

"So what are you doing here, working as a photographer's assistant? You're some trust fund kid wanting a taste of adventure or what?"

Again, the furtive look came into his eyes. He glanced away, fiddling with his suspenders, then finally turned back to her with an air of devil-may-care defiance. "All right, if you must know, I was cut off when I ran away from home to join the French Legion," he said in a rush. "I was in Morocco for a couple of years, and it was absolutely miserable, so when I was transferred to Indochina six months ago, I just��left. And now I'm stuck here."

It took Thu a moment to process all that. It explained why he was running away from those legionnaires, at least. "So you deserted?"

"Yes," he said, casting his eyes downward. "When I joined, I didn't expect it to be like that—"

"What, you thought you'd be out on the battlefield, killing infidels like a crusader?" Thu snorted.

"No!" He looked at her, indignation blazing briefly across his face. "I don't know—I thought it would be more of an adventure. But it was just a lot of backbreaking work, building roads and things. And the way they treated the locals was appalling. Not that it's much better here," he added apologetically. "But at least I'm not directly involved anymore."

Thu looked at him again and saw him for the boy he still was. How old was he? Around her age, twenty-four, twenty-five at the most, but somehow, in his shirtsleeves and suspenders, he looked younger. She had to admire his unflappable optimism. He had never known anything but a cushy upper-class life in London, and one impulsive decision later, he was thrown into an alien world. He was just as lost here as she was.

"Why would you stay here?" she asked. "I can't imagine that the Legion would treat deserters with kindness."

"The garrison is up north," he said. "They won't find me here. The two that we met last night—that was just an unlucky coincidence."

"Does Mr. Davinier know?"

"I gave him a fake last name, but I don't think he cared one way or another. He just wanted an assistant that speaks French. He claimed the natives are not reliable." Ralph's nose wrinkled with an apparent dislike for his boss.

"Why don't you just ask your sister to send you some money for a fare home?"

He winced and turned away again. "I'm not going to beg. Knowing Victoria, I'd never hear the end of it." For a moment, he looked so dejected that her heart went out to him.

But feeling sorry for Ralph didn't solve her monetary problem. If anything, it made it more pressing that she got some money for herself, instead of mooching off of him. Out of habit, she reached up for her pendant, and suddenly remembered both the pendant and necklace were pure gold. It was an 18th birthday present from her mom, who had said, half-jokingly, that it would go toward her dowry. Thu had never had much of a sentimental connection to it; she only wore it to show her mom her gratitude. And now she was more grateful for it than ever.

She sat up and turned to Ralph. "I'm going to Silver Street."

***

"How did you know where to go?" Ralph said, following Thu down the length of Silver Street while she scrutinized the signs advertising the prices of gold and silver. Of course, the houses had changed a lot, but other than the fact the signs were hand-written instead of digital, and there were no bored-looking security guards yawning on stools outside the shops, the street still looked soothingly familiar with its rows of jewelry shops and money changers. Gold and silver pieces gleamed behind glass cases or in the shopkeepers' hands as they lifted them up for the customers to examine. 

"The thing about Hanoi is that it sticks to its traditions," she replied. "It's slow to change."

It took them a while to find an out-of-the-way pawn shop in an alley. The owner, a little old man with a salt-and-pepper goatee reaching to his chest and his teeth dyed black, stared at Thu and Ralph doubtfully over his glasses. "Did you just come from abroad?" he asked Thu in Vietnamese.

"Uh, yeah." She wracked her brain for a far-flung place. "Morocco. This is how they dress there." She winked at Ralph, and he responded with a smirk. Hopefully, she wouldn't start a new trend or something.

The owner shook his head over the exotic habits of the Moroccans, but he didn't ask any further questions. He weighed her necklace and offered her 20 đồng for it.

"Twenty!" she shouted, trying to look outraged. "Gold is one fifty an ounce, and that, with the pendant, is at least half an ounce!"

"But who knows where you might have gotten it from?" the owner retorted, eyeing Ralph with fear. Perhaps he thought Ralph was some sort of undercover policeman, and this was a setup. Thu had to laugh at the idea. Who would believe that this fresh-faced boy was a cop?

"Don't try to be righteous, mister," she said, grabbing the necklace off of the scale. "If you don't want it, I'll find someone else that does."

That did the trick. The owner quickly put out a hand, whose pinky was topped by a long, curving nail, to stop her. After some more bargaining, he finally agreed on a price of 60 đồng, while still grumbling about how she was robbing him blind.

"That was wizard, how you talked him into it!" Ralph breathed out as they left the pawn shop.

"Thanks, I guess," Thu said, amused. She had no idea what "wizard" meant, but it sounded like a compliment. "I'm just used to haggling. You kind of have to be, living in Hanoi."

60 đồng. How long would it last her? Thu's mind was busy running through all the books and documents she'd read about colonial times, trying to remember if any of them mentioned the cost of living. But such details would have been deemed too dull for the novels, while the history books were more concerned about politics and revolutions. Why didn't they write about anything useful?

OK, let's say the money would last her a month. And when the money ran out and Homeless Pete didn't turn up, what then? She had to figure out a steadier source of income. Perhaps she could ask Ralph to put the money in a bank for her and live on the interest. Could she trust him not to run off with it? He was in need of money...

She glanced at him, slightly ashamed. After all, he hadn't been anything but nice to her, when he could've left her to fend for herself. But still, she shouldn't depend on another person. Could she find a job? What did women do for a living in this time anyway?

Buying clothes proved to be another challenge. There was no ready-to-wear clothes shop for women; everything was bespoke. So that's why they looked so chic back then, Thu thought, remembering the photos she'd seen of women from the 1930s in their elegant áo dài, tailor-made to fit them exactly. She wasn't even sure she could pull off something like that. In her time, áo dài were reserved for formal occasions, and she always felt so gawky in them. But the silks on display looked so soft, the colors so bright and pretty, that she couldn't resist dropping into one of the many tailoring shops along Silk Street and asking to see some samples.

"You would be wanting the modern áo dài, wouldn't you, mademoiselle?" the tailor, a fat man with even more pomade in his hair than Ralph, asked. "Or perhaps you're interested in Western dresses?"

He turned to Ralph and asked something in French. Ralph turned bright red. "Non, non, nous ne sommes—" he stammered. "C'est pour elle," he waved a hand toward Thu.

"Très bien, monsieur," the tailor said with a simpering smile and returned his attention to Thu.

Seeing Ralph's uncomfortable look, Thu had a pretty good guess of what the tailor had asked. She had half a mind to go to a different shop, where they would be less likely to jump to conclusions, but she realized that for this time, it was a natural assumption from seeing a young Vietnamese woman with a Western man. Besides, their silks were exceptional. She ended up ordering half a dozen áo dài and was positively giddy to find out they only set her back a few đồng each - in modern day, they would've cost millions.

"They'll be ready in a week, mademoiselle," the tailor said smoothly, after he finished taking her measurements.

That still left her a week with nothing to wear. Then her eyes caught the male mannequin in the shop window, and a sign advertising ready-made shirts and trousers.

Well, why not? She had drawn enough attention to herself, running around Hanoi in her modern outfit, which was basically men's clothes anyway. So why not blend in with some style?

"May I see some of your men's clothes?" she asked the tailor.

"For monsieur?" he asked.

"No, for me."

The tailor's eyebrows went up a fraction, but he said nothing, only signaling to his assistant to bring out some shirts and pants. Apparently, he was much more used to dealing with eccentric customers than the pawn shop owner.

Half an hour later, they left the shop together, Thu feeling very spiffy in her striped button-up and white linen trousers held up with suspenders, just like Ralph's. She still drew some curious stares, but she didn't feel like a sore thumb anymore.

"What is it?" she asked, catching Ralph's glance.

"Oh, nothing," he said. "I'm just wondering if women in the future prefer to wear men's clothes. Lauren does too." He seemed to mention Lauren a lot, more than the others. Thu wondered if there was something between them.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "They're just more comfy, you know? I have to say, it's much easier for women in men's clothes to get accepted, not so much the other way around. I wish it wasn't like that, but hey, gender stereotyping is hard to overcome." She added, "I like Lauren though. She sounds cool."

"She is," Ralph said. His face was pink again. Yep, definitely something between Ralph and Lauren - hey, Ralph Lauren, that's rich, Thu sniggered to herself.

It was almost noon, and Thu thought about buying Ralph some lunch, to repay his kindness.

"Oh no, there is no need—" he began.

"No, please, I insist. Where do you usually eat?" she asked.

"At a bistro near the studio," he said. "It's the only place I know. There's also a store where I buy cheese sometimes, but it's expensive, so it's only for special occasions."

Thu was appalled. "And that's all you've been eating for the last six months?" she asked. "In the best food city of South East Asia, and you only eat French food?" The thought of him eating stale bread and rancid butter made her want to cry.

"Isn't French food the best in the world?" Ralph said, confused.

"Not when there are better and cheaper options!" She shook her head. "I'm going to have to educate you on this."

Thanks to the ever-present street vendors of Hanoi, food was the one thing she wouldn't have to worry about while stuck in the past. She kept an eye out for any vendor that looked promising and soon set her sight on a man with a shaved head sitting between two tall baskets, one containing a pot boiling over a portable charcoal stove, the other containing the rest of his ingredients, as well as bowls and chopsticks. The warm, savory smell coming from the pot was unmistakable, and Thu immediately dragged Ralph toward the stall. "Come on, you are in for a treat," she said.

Ralph hung back a little, unsure, but eventually, he followed her.

Thu asked the vendor for two bowls. The vendor eyed Ralph with some trepidation, but he served them anyway, putting two handfuls of noodles into the bowls, sliced some paper-thin beef on top, poured the piping hot broth over everything, before topping it with some fresh herbs, some chili, and a squeeze of lime.

"Are we just going to eat here on the street, like this?" Ralph asked.

"Yeah, it's part of the experience. Tuck in."

Ralph couldn't quite master the chopsticks just yet, but their unwieldiness didn't deter him. The moment he took the first sip of the broth, his already round eyes went even rounder with delight.

"This is so good!" Ralph exclaimed. "What is it?"

"It's phở. Beef noodle soup. Our national dish," Thu answered with pride. Although she had eaten countless bowls of phở, Thu had to admit that there was a certain sweetness to the broth and a smoothness to the noodle that the modern phở couldn't compare. She had to resist the urge to pull out her phone and snap a photo for Instagram. What hashtag would she even use? #pho1929? #timetravelfoodie? Yeah, right.

"And how much for this bowl?"

"Ten cents."

"Ten cents?!" He almost dropped the chopsticks in disbelief. "You mean to tell me I've been wasting my money eating at that exorbitant bistro when I could have this for a tenth of the price?!"

"Of course the bistro is expensive," she said. "They have to import butter and cheese and what have you, and by the time they get here, they don't taste so great anymore. Eat local when you travel, my friend. It's always best."

"We pack our food when we travel."

Thu's lip quirked up. "What? So you go to France with fish and chips in your bags or something?"

"No, not like that. Like when Mr. Carter went to Egypt. You know him, Howard Carter?"

"Yeah, you're talking to a museum archivist here," Thu said. "He's the one who discovered Tutankhamun's tomb, right?"

"Exactly! The papers reported that he bought his supplies from Fortnum & Mason, and after that, it was all the rage to stock up there before any trip abroad."

Ralph listed off all the food the 1922 expedition had brought along to the Valley of the Kings. Thu was fascinated—the history books she read certainly didn't mention that. "I think they brought all that food, jellied lobster and curried fowl and wines, just so they could have the crates to pack the mummies in and ship them back to England later," she said.

Ralph laughed. She hadn't heard him laugh before, and for some reason, it pleased her, knowing she had made him laugh.

Chapter 4

A/N: A bit about the money in this chapter - the official name for the French Indochinese currency is "piastre", but everybody called it "đồng" (meaning "copper" or "coin"). In 1920s, 1 piastre = 100 cents = 10 francs. A bowl of phở did cost 10 cents back then. For comparison, it costs 35.000 VND now (about 1.5 USD).

[illiana-mystery]

My Current WIPs

I was tagged by @eclecticwildflowers and @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky to post my current WIPs! I have four, so this is gonna be a long post.

The four in question are He Won't Hurt You (Bobby Hicks), Sugar Baby (Ed Blackridge), The Vampire's Jewel (Max Shreck), and Jumping the Broom (Alan Ward).

Taglist: @emilynightshade89, @yentoons

---

He Won't Hurt You

"Nev...Nev...Neveah, wake up. Wake up honey," he softly said as he shook your sleepy body. You hesitated to open your eyes, until you finally recognized the voice you just heard.

Soon you batted your eyes and smiled when you saw your old manager standing by your side.

He smelled of a fresh morning cigarette with a hint of orange juice and was wearing a pink short sleeve shirt with slight raveled jorts.

His utility belt was fascend firm against his waist, as his hands held the sides, flexing his muscles a little more.

He was quite the sight to behold after you woke up, although you wished he was still cuddling you in bed.

"Good morning, Bobby," you groggily said as you rubbed your eyes. "It's morning already?"

"Yes, and I need you up and at 'em," he demanded in more of a drill sergeant tone. "We got places to be and faces to see."

"Okay, sir," you hummed, making him blush. "Sir, yes sir."

"Nev, please stop. We don't have time for more fucking and you're making me horny calling me sir like that," he warned, his face turning even more red.

You laughed as you got up and out of bed.

"Okay, Bobby. I'll stop. Can I at least get a kiss?"

"After you get dressed," he said. "Time's a wasting. Tam's been blowing up my phone. She acts like she can't function without me around. I told her that I was helping you out and that we need to get your stuff out of that apartment before I come in. Juan's there though. So she can just get help from him."

You felt your blood boiling a bit from what he was saying. You knew that Tamara took your old job, but you didn't realize that she probably had a crush on Bobby too. And it really didn't make you think otherwise by his admission.

It wasn't a hard job, so you knew that she only wanted Bobby around because she liked him. So that only meant that this was gonna be awkward being in the same space as her.

"What am I gonna wear, Bobby? All of my clothes are at my apartment."

"Not to worry, beautiful. I already picked out an old army shirt and some cargo shorts for you to wear."

"Oh, does that mean I can wear your dog tags too?" you curiously asked.

"No, no, darling. Those are only for me to wear. Although, maybe I might oblige...if it involved you with nothing else on."

"That can be arranged," you hummed.

He just snickered.

"Enough," he sternly said. "Now get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. I made a breakfast smoothie for you."

"A tropical smoothie with a hint of coconut?"

"Of course. I do remember you always trying to drink all of mine every morning. I couldn't leave my cup unattended lest I be left with less than half of it."

You giggled.

"Well, it didn't bother you too much," you said as you began to put his clothes on. "I mean you did still fuck me last night."

"The heart wants what the heart wants," he teased before he left you to finish getting dressed.

After you finished and wrapped your hair up in a messy bun, you followed his instructions to meet him in the kitchen.

He was preoccupied pouring more almond milk in your smoothie before he finally looked at you. And when he looked at you, he was floored.

His old army shirt and cargo shorts looked so good on you. His shirt clung to your chest just right and his shorts hugged your ass and hips and thighs just right.

You looked like a model to him, a very sexy curvy model that he was lucky enough to bed last night.

"So, what do you think?" you asked as he finally came back to his senses.

"What do I think?" he asked as he walked around the island where he was standing and moved over by you. "I think...well I think you look gorgeous. Damn. My clothes look better on you."

He sealed his compliment with a heartfelt kiss, pulling you even closer to him as it went on.

"Thank you, Bobby," you said before a giggle. "Maybe you should let me wear your clothes more."

"I'm starting to be open to the suggestion," he moaned before he retrieved your smoothie. "Here. You ready to go now?"

"Thanks," you said once you took the cup from him. "Yep, I'm ready to go."

---

Sugar Baby

"You know, when I was a kid, I used to watch Mae do her and her daughter's hair when they were living with us," Ed started, bobby pin clasped between his lips. His hands were painstakingly braiding the last pieces of Alicia's hair that went along with the hair design he thought would look nice on her for the day.

"Mae was a master with hair. She could do just about any type of hairstyle that was common in the black community back then. It was quite impressive and I guess I just picked it up," he explained further, making sure he clearly answered Alicia's question of his skill. He was still a little too vague for her case though, but she let it slide.

"I'm honestly surprised. Seems like you were confused about my satin cap last night."

"I was. Mae and Loretta just wore their hair in scarves," he replied. "And honestly, I never really thought about how different their hair was from mine, just thought it was beautiful like yours. I mean Miss Mae was a housekeeper, but she still liked to look her best."

"I really would have liked Miss Mae," Alicia cooed. "She's sounds kinda like my dear mother."

Ed just chuckled before he turned her chair around so she could look in the mirror.

"Voila!" he cheered before he noticed the bright smile that now decorated Alicia's face.

He had braided the left side of her hair and wrapped it around the back, making a nice little design worthy enough for a typical hair show in Atlanta.

"Eddie! Oh my gosh! I love it! Thank you!," she said as she jumped out of her chair and hugged him.

"You're welcome," he happily said as he hugged her back.

"Oh my gosh, now I need to change."

"I don't mind you walking around in your swimming robe," he teased as he kissed her neck.

"Well, I mind, lover boy," she remarked before she went back into his bedroom to retrieve the old campus shirt and shorts that she packed.

Ed followed not too long after, but stayed leaned up against the bathroom doorsill. His hands were tucked into his distressed blue jeans, as his flexed muscles placed little wrinkles into his crisp white undershirt.

He eagerly watched her get out of her robe and into her clothes, which she noticed. Not that she mind though. He had seen her naked earlier.

"Enjoy the show, handsome?" she teased as she walked back over to him. He didn't give her an answer, but his baby blues did give her a good look over.

The baseball shirt she was wearing hugged her chest and waist just right and her shorts excentuated her sexy hips.

"Damn, she even looked good in casual clothes," he thought.

"My eyes are up here," she said with a giggle.

"They sure are," he retorted before he took her lips in a soft kiss. "You look amazing."

"I'm just wearing an old college shirt. But thank you."

"Honestly, you look good in anything...although I like you with nothing on too."

"Fresh," she remarked before she playfully punched his arm. He just laughed.

"Ready for the rest of the tour?"

"I was born ready."

Her response caused her older lover to laugh again before he took her hand and led her out the bedroom.

He showed her his guest rooms first — five in total and they were all designed with murals inspired by a Van Gogh painting. He told her how he hired a muralist from Manhattan to take on this task and how it took about five months to complete the project.

But he put up the artist in his own room and paid for his travels too and fro as well as his other expenses. To him, it was worth sleeping on the sofa for.

Alicia couldn't have agreed more, but she was curious what room he was gonna put her in. He smiled before he told her he though she would have liked to stay in the Starry Night suite. It was the largest room and had its own bathroom unlike the other four which had two shared bathrooms.

However, the guest rooms were rarely used anyway now. On that somber note, he brought her to his study on the other side of the upper floor.

The room was enormous and surrounded by Mahogany bookshelves that were overflowed with books of different genres. Honestly, it looked like a small library. But the centerpiece was a grand, large portrait of the Blackridge Family including Mae and Loretta that was above his large desk.

And Alicia noticed that the mother and daughter were wearing dresses that were as extravagant as Vivian's while Ed Sr. and Eddie were both wearing tailored suits. It was a lovely portrait and really showed how beloved Mae and Loretta were to the family.

"I made her laugh before we took that portrait," Ed admitted before he jokingly smiled at Alicia. "That's why her smile is so bright. Loretta didn't smile a lot, but she did around me. I made her."

"Sounds like you two were close."

"Of course. We grew up together."

Alicia giggled.

"I couldn't help but notice the dresses they're wearing too."

"Oh, yeah. My mom insisted that they be in every portrait, much to the photographer's chagrin. He didn't understand why we would consider the help family, but my dad would always back her up. So she would always make sure that Mae and Loretta had a nice outfit to wear too. Loretta and I were 15 in that picture."

"Malcolm looks like her," she observed.

"He does," he said with a laugh. "I've always told her that. She doesn't see it though."

She wanted to ask Ed more about his friendship with Loretta, but she decided against it and just went along with the rest of the tour.

The movie room was next on the itinerary and Alicia immediately observed that it looked like a viewing room on a Hollywood lot from the 1960s. But she liked the old charm of it.

The chairs were gold-finished with plush velvet" cushions and were put together in four columns and four rows. She wondered why he had so many seats, but didn't ask.

"You can sit if you would like," he softly said before she did. He followed after and smiled at her, making her do the same.

"I feel like I've gone back in time," she said. "But it's much cozier than how it would have been."

Her comment made Ed a little uneasy. Past memories of the mistreatment of his nanny and friend flooded his subconscious, but he tried his best to play it off.

"Yeah," he moaned. "This is actually an exact replica of the projection room in my childhood home. My mother loved movies, so my dad had it made for her when they were building the house. It was years before I was born. I actually get film from several movie companies every month."

Alicia was so in awe, she didn't respond. Ed grabbed her hand to get her attention again and she looked at him before he asked,

"What's your favorite movie genre? I can tweak my usual order for you and we can watch some movies together sometimes if you would like."

"I like just about any type of movie," she answered. "But I really like Action-Adventure, Comedy, and Horror. But I don't like gore."

"Noted," he said before he kissed her cheek.

---

The Vampire's Jewel

Your hand moved down your neck as your remembrance of him finally faltered. At this point, the scar he left you was but a mere mark. Nothing but a reminder of a night of revelry you shared only once.

But still, somehow, it was special to you. Deep down, you still loved him. It was obvious by how the Scarlet stain immediately made you think about him.

It still had been years though. Maybe it was time to move on. Sure, he claimed that your souls were bonded and that he would have to kill you if you betrayed him but how could he.

He left you alone the next morning after your encounter, without a proper goodbye. And vampire or not, that was just rude.

You still had hope that maybe you were still on his mind every now and then though. And you hoped he was safe wherever he ended up running away to.

Hell, maybe happily ever after was right around the corner. You hoped it was anyway. You spent way too many lonely nights over these poor years. You just longed for his chilly touch.

You moped for only a short while though as your yawns began to take over. Your tiredness won and eventually you blew out your bedside candle and got comfortable under the sheets.

Slowly, you closed your eyes and fell into a restful sleep.

But for only a short while.

Because you were soon startled awake by the noise of footsteps and heavy breathing. It was a frightening cacophony of noise, but still sounded so familiar.

However, you were frozen in place and didn't dare get out of bed to investigate.

The sounds stopped after a few minutes though, settling you back into peaceful sleep.

But as you dozed back off, the intruder made his way into your room. He crept in, barely making noise as he found his way to your bedside.

He really wanted to taste you again, but he became distracted by how pretty you were as you slept.

You were still as beautiful as he remembered, but he wondered if you would still find him attractive.

A lot had changed about him since the last time you saw each other.

Due to his new environment, his skin lost about ten years of aging and his hair started to grow back. Now, it was about shoulder length and flowing, but still as white as the tufts behind his ears he used to have.

His fingernails were still long and sharp, but trimmed to a more civilized length. And his clothes were updated to an era-appropriate suit vest and puffy shirt with slacks underneath.

He was a new man, a new man that didn't have to live in the shadows anymore. But although he had his new freedom, he began to miss you.

That's why he returned. He returned for you, just like he promised.

He just hoped that you would be able to adjust to the harsh coldness and darkness of his new home.

Slowly, he approached your face and stroked it with his chilly palm as his other hand moved to feel your heartbeat.

A smile appeared on his face once he felt the rush of your heartbeat and he quickly moved his head down to kiss your cheek.

You jolted awake once you felt his lips, before jumping back once you noticed the intruder's face.

Of course, you didn't recognize him so you reached for a sharp object to stab him before he jumped back and said,

"Greta, Greta. It's me. Schreck. Max Schreck."

"What?" you asked in a confused tone. You took a closer look at him afterwards, before you noticed his distinct yellowed eyes and fangs.

"Yes, it's really me. I've come back for you," he said as he kept his hands up.

"Well, it's about damn time," you huffed before you threw your blunt object to the side. "What took you so long? Why do you look different?"

"May I sit? It's been a long journey."

"Sure," you moaned as he sat down before he noticed the dried stain of Scarlet on your fingers. He licked his lips, alerting you that he saw the dried blood. You rolled your eyes, but let him lick it off.

"Thank you. I'm parched," he moaned after.

"I'll let you feed from me after you explain yourself," you replied.

"Good deal," he answered back as he sniffled you. "Mmm, you still smell of lilac."

"It is my favorite scent," you remarked. "Now spill."

Unfortunately, he had one more request before he did explain.

"Can I touch your breast?"

You rolled your eyes, but complied.

"Fine."

Swiftly, he squeezed your left breast which was his favorite. The low temperature of his pale hand made you wince, until he rest his head against your other breast.

Yes, his head was also cold but he was kinda cute like this. He was softly mewing as he kneaded your bosom, and rubbing against your other like a purring cat.

"Comfortable?" you teased.

"Yes," he purred. "I missed you a lot."

"I missed you too. That's why I thought you would come back for me sooner."

"I wanted to, but it wasn't safe. I traveled throughout the known world to find us a safe place to live, but I fell short. Every time I would get comfortable, I was driven away by angry humans. I was almost killed a couple of times," he began to explained. "I guess I can't blame them since I did kill their loved ones. And that was my life, until I settled in this remote village on the other side of Siberia..."

You were perplexed when he said that. He traveled all the way from Russia just to see you again. And not only that, but he traveled around the world just to find the perfect home for both of you.

You couldn't believe it. All this time, you thought he ditched you but he was just looking out for your best interest. Honestly, it made you love him even more.

"The locals there treat me like a god. I'm set up in an abandoned castle and I have willing feeders at my beck and call. They give me blood and I give them room and board in my castle. All of them were poor and homeless, so it's a win-win."

"That's lovely," you moaned. "But I'm not used to intense cold. Isn't it really cold there?"

"It is, but there is a way that you will be able to withstand it."

"And what would that be?"

"I want you to be my immortal bride," he cooed as he looked up at you. "By becoming a vampire. I can turn you tonight, while we make love."

"Schreck, I don't...I don't know about this. I mean will this hurt? Will I even change properly?"

"Greta, I'll take good care of you," he assured as he licked and kissed your right nipple. "Besides, you'll make a gorgeous vampire. And you'll live without fear of dying forever. I'll make sure of it."

"Well, I do like the sound of that," you murmured.

He widely smiled at you before asking,

"So you accept my offer?"

"Yes, yes. Turn me, please."

---

Jumping the Broom

He had the biggest smile on his face as he drove back home. He just couldn't wait to get back on one knee and propose to her again.

However, his plan was put on hold when he found his wife fast asleep on their couch. He was slightly disappointed, but still gave her a kiss on the cheek and pulled a blanket over her.

A soft smile reappeared on his face as she got cozy against the plush of the wool blanket as he put the ring box back in his pocket.

He turned the radio off after, realizing that Janie forgot to turn if off before she fell asleep. Then his stomach started to growl, so he went to the kitchen and found the stew on the burner.

Quietly, he went about rewarming their dinner and fixing them both a bowl. He figured the scent would wake her up.

And he was right. It did. As soon as the smell hit her nose, she slowly woke up. Her eyes batted open and she slightly stretch before she noticed the blanket draped over her.

That meant that Alan was finally home. Because he would always put a blanket over her if she fell asleep on the couch before he got back.

Happily, she jumped up and went to greet him. He was reading the paper she left on the table while he ate, so he didn't see her at first.

So she walked around to his backside and put her hands over his eyes.

"Guess who?" she teased.

"Is that my darling wife, Janie Marie?" he cooed.

"Yes," she chirped before she put her arms around his neck. He chuckled and gave her a kiss after.

"Sorry I didn't..."

"It's fine," he said as he folded the paper and put it where he found it. "I'm capable of fixing my own dinner too."

Janie giggled before noticing the bowl he fixed for her.

"Thank you," she said before she kissed his cheek.

"You're very welcome," he replied as she went to sit down and eat.

"That new paperboy always brings the papers after I leave for work," he suddenly said. "Good thing I'm not always checking the stock market."

Janie just laughed.

"He's six. Let's cut him some slack."

"Flynn and I were paperboys at his age. We always woke up with the roosters and did our job well and on time."

"Well, things work a little differently in Virginia than they do in Wisconsin."

"Fair enough," he relented. "You know, you season this better than ma does."

"I do have some Creole in my blood," she replied. "Spice is just a part of my DNA."

"I'm glad. This is just the kick I needed."

"How was your day?"

"It's was a bit chaotic. Glad I have Eric though. He kept my head on straight all day."

Janie laughed.

"I'm glad you have him too. He's the friendliest Brit I've ever met."

"How was your day?"

"I finished my errands. But I bumped into Mary, Betty Jean, and Cindy Lou at Macy's. So I spent most of the day with them at the shopping mall."

"Oh, well that's nice. I'm sure Mary appreciated it."

"Yeah, it was. I just hate that Paul told his girls to call me Miss Guillory instead of Mrs. Ward because we're not legally married and I'm colored..."

"That bastard just gets more and more likeable by the day, doesn't he?" he grumbled trying not to get too angry. Although, his face did get red and he did tighten his fists.

"I'm not trying to work you up, Alan. I just needed to vent."

"Rupert also made me mad."

"Oh no. What did Mr. Jessup say?" she asked.

"He was talking about how you aren't actually my wife and how I'm only shy about my big case because I'm with you...a colored woman. Like how dare I not want to make that bust all about me when it isn't my struggle."

"Ugh, I really hate him sometimes."

"Eric had my back though. He told me that we can legally get married now due to the verdict of that case."

"Yes, I know. I'm so excited. I'm glad things are starting to change."

"Me too," he said with a big smile. "Now, what's for dessert?"

"Why don't you check the oven?" she teased.

"Okay," he said with a shrug. Once he checked the bottom compartment, he found the banana bread she baked.

He took it out but then noticed a strange hole in the middle. So he poked his finger in and felt a little plastic toy. He took it out and it was a little baby rattle painted pink.

His eyes lit up before he looked over at his wife. She had turned her chair around and had a big smile on her face as she rubbed her belly.

"Janie..."

She giggled.

"Alan, I'm pregnant. You're gonna be a father."

The excitement Alan felt suddenly was overwhelming. For the past three years, he desperately wanted a child and now his dream was becoming a reality.

He threw himself on the floor in front of her and just started to cry tears of joy. Janie smiled and cradled his head against her stomach as he kept kissing it.

"When did you find out?"

"Last Thursday at my doctor's appointment," she answered. "I wanted to wait to tell you until we got the verdict for the case."

"Janie, this is wonderful news," he said as he kissed her tummy again. "I'm so happy. I love that you put that little rattle in the bread."

"Betty Jean picked it out at the doll store at the mall."

"Of course she did," he said with a giggle. "I'm finally gonna have my little June Rose. Oh, I can't wait to hold her and read her bedtime stories."

Janie giggled before she ruffled his hair.

"We don't know what we're having yet."

"I just know. Father's intuition. And I love her already."

"She loves you too," she hummed as her husband looked up at her with watery eyes.

"I'm so glad you told me. Which means it's a good time to also do this," he said as he pulled out the ring box and got on one knee. "Janie Marie Guillory, would you make me that happiest man in the world and legally marry me?"

"Oh, Alan," she cooed before she began to cry. "Of course, I will."

---

I hope to have these chapters fully updated sometime in July. 🤞🏾 Hopefully, I can get through another bout off writer's block by then.

But until then, enjoy! 😁

[bookwyrminspiration]

in one of the earlier books i believe vertina (and maybe someone else? idk) said that sophie looked a lot like jolie. which seems like too big of a thing for shannon to not explain. so what do you think’s happening with that?

also gethen being sophie’s father seems pretty likely but why didn’t forkle recognize him? unless he was lying to keep sophie from knowing he was her father but it doesn’t seem very hard for him to say he knows gethen without revealing anything about that

Great questions! I can only theorize, but I think the primary reason for people saying Sophie looked like Jolie (it was more than Vertina, including Edaline, and said multiple times) was as part of suspecting her of being Sophie's bio mom/the confrontation with Brant.

The constant comparison planted the seed that they might be related, kinda as a very early intro to the bio parents search. She doesn't start a real search till much later, but it continues the ruminating on it brought by Prentice so we can get there. And by looking like Jolie, she enters a unique situation when dealing with Brant, bringing his/his and Jolie's story to light and forcing him to confront it. It's like Jolie's brought back to life in spirit, which affects how Brant responds and kicks off his reveal/betrayal

But we don't see much if any mention of the similarities between Jolie and Sophie after those things happen, so I assume it's served its purpose and the similarities between them are coincidental, if convenient.

As for Gethen, of course there would be a lot of questions for Forkle about how he managed to get a Neverseen member in on Project Moonlark. But I presume you're referring to the scene on pgs 595-597 ish in Everblaze? Rereading it, and this is being very particular, Mr. Forkle doesn't seem to say anything that suggests he doesn't know Gethen. He doesn't say much at all, just that he remembers fighting off Gethen when he came for Sophie, and that they'll move him somewhere he'll feel more like talking--because he does have info Mr. Forkle doesn't know and would want, even if they've met in the past. And what he says could be an intentional move to not reveal what he does know, while also not faking ignorance. Because even if he does know Gethen, everything he said still stands. Perhaps he thinks the less Sophie knows about Gethen in general, the better, so he doesn't mention anything the kids don't find out themselves

So perhaps he did recognize him, and just didn't say anything because that's safer than lying and potentially being caught. Especially since the kotlcrew are really pushy at times. Simpler to just keep them out of the loop on that one--after all, the Black Swan has no problems keeping secrets and withholding information, which is especially true when it comes to her parentage. He can do what he needs to do with any additional information he has separate from the kids; they don't need to be involved in his behind the scenes work.

I think one of the main questions for the Gethen theory is: why? Why would Mr. Forkle pick him, and the answer would probably involve him having a regular identity Mr. Forkle thought he could trust before it was revealed he was Neverseen. Basically same as the Fintan theory, we just don't know that for Gethen so there are more questions.

There are gaps and questions in every theory, so none of this is certain, it's just a potential explanation.

[electrasev5nwrites]

Ninja Daily: Vapors 47

It took conscious effort to pick her jaw back up.

"Say that again?" Aiko asked a bit weakly.

He glared, looking spectacularly uncomfortable, as if he was possibly considering pulling a Sasuke and fleeing the conversation. But Kakashi-shishou gave a pouty little huff and repeated himself. "I re-evaluated my previous rhetorical position. I have an alternative for the Rasengan."

Perhaps there just weren't any logs nearby to substitute with. Aiko resisted the temptation to check.

'If I'm not mistaken, that's a wordy apology.' She smoothed her features and did her best not to look too surprised. There would be no point to insulting him or making him feel any more uncomfortable by seeming too exuberantly grateful. Aiko didn't like these sorts of conversations either, so she directed her reply to the ground and scuffed the toes of her sandal in the dirt, tracing lines. "I misspoke as well," she muttered. "I was taking other frustrations out on you. I don't want to be arguing anymore."

"Well, that's settled then." One of those ludicrous fake eye-smiles diffused the tension, and Kakashi shifted into business mode with a palpable air of relief. "Before I teach you, I have one warning. I based this off of my experience making chidori, so don't go sharing insights about it to anyone else. It's a bit of a cheat sheet for reverse engineering my technique."

She blanched. 'He invented a technique for me? Holy shit,' Aiko thought weakly. That was a hell of an apology. 'I should probably master it and be damn grateful. I'm definitely not going to mention being okay with the Rasengan after all.'

"The name's a little deceptive, but I rather like it. Sen Tsurara—one thousand icicles. I initially tried to use the same shape transformation as for my chidori, but it ended up much less compact, but without the long tendrils of excess energy that characterize chidori. If you haven't noticed by now, chidori uses Ox, Rabbit, and then Monkey."

He demonstrated without channeling chakra, which was a damn sight harder than it sounded. "I couldn't get what I wanted to work with three handsigns—the minimum appears to be four." He paused. "Well, at least until you've mastered it to the point where it comes naturally. Have you ever used Jin?"

Aiko shook her head. He just lazily blinked as if he expected that. At least, it seemed like he blinked, even though she couldn't see both eyes. She had to assume he wasn't really winking at her all the time.

"Alright. Jin is commonly associated with water release techniques." He demonstrated slowly and carefully. When Aiko mimicked it, he moved on. "It starts the same, but you're going to lose the Rabbit seal entirely and substitute in 'Dog' and then 'Jin', but still end with Monkey. Show me."

Aiko entirely blocked the chakra paths in her wrists and flashed through the sequence, not fumbling on the new seal.

"Good." Kakashi let a hand wander up to that electrocuted mop he called hair, a gesture she recognized as meaning he was thinking. "Alright. Obviously, there's no ice involved in this technique. I can do many things, but I haven't figured out how to transfer bloodline limits yet."

It took conscious effort not to look at the hidden Sharingan eye under his dark blue mask.

"Instead of ice, you'll actually be generating water and using the same concentration you do to give water bullets their hard edge." He shrugged lazily. "It looks a lot like ice, and that sounds better than 'One thousand pointy bits of water.' Then he looked contemplative for a moment, before putting his palms up and sheepishly admitting, "And it's actually more like six hundred seventy six pointy bits, but who's counting?" His visible eye curved into a smile.

She was a little appalled that he'd actually been anal enough to count them himself (and how had he even managed that?), but agreed that no one else was likely to spot the fib in the name.

"Is… is it a running technique like chidori?" she asked, curious.

He shook his head. "No, that's dangerous. Not that this doesn't have its own problems," he admitted self-depreciatingly. "It's not a sustained technique. It only lasts about a second and a half at most. So if your timing is off, you're just pawing at people with your bare hand."

"And that doesn't work for anyone but a Hyuuga," she finished.

His lip seemed to twitch under his mask. "Correct." Then he demonstrated, flipping through the seals at a speed she couldn't even register, since she already knew what they would be.

Of course, nothing seemed to happen for a good second. She furrowed her brow and looked up at his face, which seemed decidedly amused. "As you can see, nothing happens until you force a burst of chakra out past the buildup," he drawled. "The seals are just preparation in this case. You can ready them as much as a few seconds before you actually use the technique, which does mitigate something of the timing problem." He ran through the hand seals again, this time lifting up his right hand and pulsing chakra through it.

It exploded—it really did look like ice burst out of his hand. In the moments it lasted, he lazily demonstrated that it wasn't bound to a single trajectory by moving his arm from side to side, letting the technique move with him. Then suddenly it dissolved, collapsing into a sphere of water and then splashing to the ground, all form lost.

"Whoa." She took a deep breath, mind working. "There's something I didn't see, isn't there? If it had just been that hard-edge technique, it would have shredded your hand as well."

He looked a bit proud. "Insightful. Yes, the first step is a soft cushion around your hand." He kneeled to scoop up the fallen water and demonstrated a wiggly glove construct, instead of generating more raw material. "You're going to attach the hard edge to that, instead of your flesh."

She made a face. That sounded like a pain. He hadn't actually taught her a technique that complicated before. He made it look easy, but the control for that cushion was analogous to what beginning medics would need. She would be able to do it while working on another technique, but barely and only with a fair bit of concentration.

'That means more chakra control practice, so I can use this on-the-go,' she sighed. Goddamnit.

Kakashi chuckled lowly, not sounding particularly amused. "It would be embarrassing to cripple yourself with your own technique. So, don't forget that part. The difficult bit is manifesting that independently of what you're doing with the handseals for the hard-edge portion, but the closer they are together time-wise, the less likely that the people you are about to skewer have a chance to figure out the possible weakness that you can be harmed by your own technique."

He didn't have to explain why that would be a bad thing.

"Duly noted." Aiko fidgeted.

"Show me that part first," he lazily demanded, leaning back against a tree. "I know you can do it, but I'd like to see it actually generated and not picked up from a natural source."

For a while, he just let her work in silence, occasionally giving a tip or snarky critique. She had managed to start attaching hard edges to the protective cushion, even though they were messy and nothing like shishou's perfect, symmetrical jagged protrusions by the time he brought up a strange topic.

"I didn't realize you and Naruto were living on your own from such a young age. Four, wasn't it?"

'Why's he bringing that up now?'

Aiko frowned, stealing a glance at her sensei. The tone had been perfectly level and casual, but something had been very wrong about the statement nonetheless, and not just the fact that he rarely initiated idle conversation. Perhaps it had been the way he emphasized syllables or the fact that he was trying too hard to sound nonchalant.

Either way, it seemed like a dangerous question to respond to. Kakashi was fishing for information or a certain response. Saying something when she didn't know what he was looking for could end poorly. Aiko didn't intend for anyone to ever find out that she had been reincarnated or had precognition or whatever the hell was going on in her head. She barely trusted in her own sanity, and she was the one stuck in her head. Doubtless, no one else would just accept such a crazy claim. It was better to let people attribute the fact that she didn't always entirely 'click' to whatever they wanted. Often, people told themselves far better lies than anyone else could.

So Aiko shrugged noncommittally, focusing on her task and how the goddamn icicle things just wouldn't manifest the long, straight edges that Kakashi's technique had instead of responding verbally. Her shishou seemed to measure the response, tilting his head slightly like a bird. If she knew him at all, which she definitely did, now he would be re-thinking his rhetorical approach and coming at whatever he wanted to know from another angle. She would probably be able to figure out what he was really angling for by considering his first question in conjunction with whatever he tried next.

"Why do you act as though you're so much older than your brother?" Kakashi asked suddenly.

Aiko blinked, taken aback by the odd question. He didn't suspect that she was really an adult—that wasn't a suspicion you gently prodded at, so she didn't see the connection. "I don't know. I just suppose that someone had to take care of things, and I was more qualified."

'Because I was born fully conscious and aware,' her mind filled in. Was it lying if she finished her sentences in her head?

Her shishou seemed to frown, eye darkening. "You shouldn't have had to."

'Oh. That's what this is about. He's feeling guilty now that he realizes no one stepped up to take care of us after Minato and Kushina died.'

The realization was surprisingly irritating. Aiko rolled her eyes, exasperated. He'd been fourteen and just lost the last of his support system—of course he hadn't been able to take the twins in, even if he had been able to afford and care for two infants.

"Who cares what I 'shouldn't have had' to do? It's a bit late now, and obviously it worked out. Look at how well adjusted I am." She held her hands out in demonstration, and momentarily regretted that Yamato wasn't there. That joke would have garnered at least a snort.

"Tough crowd," she muttered at Kakashi's unamused expression. Aiko shrugged, turning away and stubbornly avoiding his eye, pretending to be engrossed in hand seals. "Look, I don't know what you want me to say. I don't regret it. I like being an adult."

Kakashi just looked tired and depressed, slumping his shoulders inward."But you weren't. Minato was my sensei. I should have-"

"Bullshit." The fingers of her right hand, which had been trying to flash through the handsigns she'd just been taught, clenched convulsively. Her neck was so stiff that it hurt a little. "I doubt you were in any state to take in two infants. Besides, I can't imagine thinking of you as a father figure." He recoiled, but she didn't feel guilty. "You're my mentor and probably my best friend." The touchy-feely admission was a little embarrassing, so she closed her eyes entirely. "It's between you and Naruto, and I just don't think he has the appropriate sass for the role."

He snorted. But he didn't say anything else, be it a refutation or a continuation of his pity party, so she counted it as a victory.

It was surprisingly easy to fall back into their old patterns of behavior, which would have been nice if Aiko hadn't been attempting to alter her own actions. She was probably too old to cling off of him now, and it would only encourage her silly infatuation. So she maintained a little more distance than she would have only three months ago, but he didn't comment.

They only stayed in the training field for another hour. She wasn't exactly a novice with solid chakra manifestations, but this one ate a shocking amount of her chakra. As she worked she was becoming a little more efficient, which was reassuring, but she wouldn't be whipping this one out in combat any time too soon. It wasn't the jutsu itself that was the issue. Nor was it that her reserves were low. It was her inexperience with maintaining multiple shapes at once, which only practice could rectify.

Aiko wasn't worried. If shishou thought she could master this, then she could. He wasn't one to overestimate anyone's abilities.

"You can't teach a cat fire ninjutsu," Anko said firmly. She didn't draw the line often, but this seemed like a good place to do so.

Karin just scoffed, "Hater," under her breath, but Hinata looked up from her attempt to manipulate little paws through approximations of hand signs and calmly uttered, "That's what you keep saying, but I'm not convinced."

"Why else would Naruto be so convinced Smaug is a dragon?" Karin added practically. "Maybe Smaug is a fire-natured cat."

Anko rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever, do what you want." She pointedly edged far away from the cat experiment and worked her way to the kitchen. Hinata was the only person that damn animal seemed to tolerate, and she wasn't interested in bleeding from her face. (Smaug always went for the eyes or throat). She dropped her bag on the floor as she went, and yanked open the fridge to contemplatively frown inside. Triumphantly, she withdrew a container of leftovers, peeled the lid up to sniff it, and then asked, "D'you think Aiko would notice if I took these blanched vegetables?"

"Probably," Aiko drawled, leaning against the counter and eying Anko's back.

The older girl jumped a bit and hit her head on a shelf, cursing. "Don't fucking sneak up on me, bitch!"

Aiko huffed in amusement, digging around the fruit bowl for an apple. She just wasn't seeing one, though. Maybe she'd had the last one yesterday? "It's my house. I can sneak if I want to."

"That's no excuse," Anko snapped, cradling her head and letting the fridge shut with a bang.

"Oh, lay off it," Karin sighed, wandering in to poke around sadly at the empty cookie jar. "Hey, Aiko, you love me, right? Since you're so nice, would you-"

"'So nice'? Is that the best you can do?" She raised an eyebrow at her cousin skeptically. "That's pretty weak flattery. Maybe you should say something about my impeccable style, or my awesome hair day, or-"

"I'm an honest girl, and I don't want cookies that badly," Karin shot back with a smirk. "I would never undermine my integrity for food." Unseen, Anko (intrepid fridge looter that she was) flipped Karin off. Bored, Karin dropped the lid with a clatter that made Aiko wince, but at least it didn't crack either the jar or lid. "I guess it doesn't matter. We need to go."

"Anko. You didn't plan for lunch, then?" When Anko shook her head with a pathetic pout, Aiko sighed with faux irritation. "Just take my bento then, you utter barbarian. I'll go out for lunch. When are you guys going to be back?"

Hinata meandered in, snatching the blue bento out of Anko's greedy claws and dutifully packing it away with hers and Karin's boxes in a knapsack. "Tomorrow morning, if all goes as planned."

"Alright, I'll probably still be here then."

The house emptied, but Aiko wandered aimlessly from room to room, feeling restless and strange. She'd been asked not to work any further on Sen Tsurara without supervision, and shishou was out on another mission above her skill level. Yamato was probably with him, but she didn't have an idea as to who his third teammate would be.

'I bet Sasuke's around,' she mused. 'I haven't seen him in forever. Maybe we could do lunch and catch up?'

Since he had begun his specialization, Sasuke had been entirely confined to the village. Oddly enough, he didn't seem resentful. That probably meant his training was going very well—he liked seeing visible improvement. Off hand, she couldn't think of anything else that would mitigate the irritation of not getting any chance to stretch his legs and get in real fights.

Although she was still a little achy from her workout late last night, Aiko felt much more optimistic about her day when she had something of a plan.

It only took an instant for her to realize that she didn't envy her housemates who would be sleeping outside that night. Even as she opened the door, Aiko had to cringe away from the biting wind. She slammed it immediately and walked right back into the house to change clothes.

Pulling a long-sleeved blue shirt much like her shishou's out of her closet, she had to freeze and giggle hysterically at the thought of how miserable Karin must be in her shorts. There was no way that Anko would let her go back for a change just because she hadn't planned well (never mind that Anko was a terrible planner as well). Just because it amused her, she changed out of her own shorts and pulled on a short white skirt over blue leggings instead of wearing pants like a responsible, grown-up kunoichi would. She completed the outfit with shoes that had been a gag gift (at least, she hoped it wasn't a sign that his taste in fashion had gotten even sillier) that Naruto had mailed to her from a city she'd never even heard of. They were shaped something like Mary Janes and appeared to be white patent leather… with a smiling cat face in black stitching on the toe area.

'These are fucking awesome', she had decided when she'd opened the package.

Karin hadn't seemed to agree, but it wasn't Aiko's fault that the other redhead had no taste. It was a shame, but there it was.

Lunch with Sasuke didn't work out—when she stopped by the hospital to try to find him, she was told he was with a patient and couldn't be disturbed. So she asked that he be told that she had stopped by, but didn't really hold much faith that he would get back to her in time. It was ten in the morning already at that point, after all. Bored and a bit lonely, she decided to get the unpleasant task of some clothes shopping out of the way, while Karin was safely out of the village and unable to nitpick. She didn't feel like she was getting fat or had put on weight, but her clothes weren't fitting like they used to. Even the skirt she was wearing at the moment was a little too snug to really provide the freedom of movement she needed.

Looking in the mirror in the changing room, she felt a little more daring than she had the last time she had gone clothes shopping. That had been when she was twelve… The thought brought her the unpleasant realization that she hadn't had a growth spurt in a very long time.

Regardless, now that she was finally old enough—technically a legal adult, by Konoha's standards even though fourteen seemed frightfully young to her—she was willing to get slightly more risqué with her leisure wear, if not her mission clothing.

As Konoha was much more prone to small, specific stores run by families instead of large department stores, that meant quite a few trips around town that loaded her down with a good forty pounds of bags. Staggering slightly, not from the weight but from the unwieldiness of her load, Aiko set off to drop her new things off at home—and startled when an irritated looking Yamanaka grabbed her shoulder from behind.

"How rude!" Ino sniffed, looking at her purple-painted nails. "You didn't come to tell me about how your date went, after I slaved over getting you ready."

Aiko blinked, mildly confused. 'Slaved? She brought over something she already owned and put my hair in a bun with a fabric flower. Maybe this is more of that ettiquite I missed out on?'

"I'm sorry," she apologized, trying to rearrange her bags to better see the road she was accidentally blocking. Shikamaru, Asuma, and Chouji came up the road in the direction Ino must have come from, wearing varying expressions of boredom and irritation.

"Ino, let the poor girl go home," Asuma drawled through a cigarette. Ino blushed, but didn't back off.

"Yes, weren't we going somewhere?" Chouji said pointedly, glaring at his kunoichi comrade.

Shikamaru seemed to have a sudden idea. At least, the suddenly wicked gleam in his eye indicated that it was a good one. But when he finally voiced it, it sounded surprisingly tame. "Why don't you just invite her along, so we can get going?"

Ino scowled at him, but it seemed to be more out of habit than anything. "Fine." She snatched most of the bags off of Aiko's arms despite her protestations—and then shoved them at Shikamaru and Chouji while Asuma snickered, giving Aiko a conspiratorial wink she didn't understand. "Look alive, boys, you weren't seriously going to let a lady carry all this?" She peeked inside one, and let a sly smile creep across her face. "You went clothes shopping all on your own? I'm so proud."

"I usually go shopping on my own," Aiko said dryly. "I don't particularly appreciate the implication that I'm incapable of dressing myself. I'm a big girl. I tie my own sandals and everything."

Chouji blinked and looked down at her definitely unfastened shoes with a vaguely perplexed expression. There wasn't anything to tie. They were slip-ons. He opened his mouth—and then Asuma slapped a palm over it. Ino didn't notice when he leaned over and muttered, "It's best not to get involved," and then gave him a commiserating pat on the back.

They fell to the back of the group, partly because they were lazy and partly because it was safest to be out of Ino's direct line of vision. As soon as there was enough distance, Chouji elbowed his friend and muttered, "What's going on?"

Shikamaru snorted, warily eying Ino as if to gauge the distance before he dared speak up. "Isn't it obvious?" he grouched. "Ino is feeling territorial and jealous, now that it's sunk in that her friend would rather spend time with another girl. She doesn't want to date Aiko and she'd turn her down if she was asked on a date, but she doesn't like that Aiko would pick someone else over her. She's convinced herself that since she's the most desirable," (here he rolled his eyes), "that it doesn't make sense that anyone wouldn't want to date her."

They hadn't noticed that Asuma had lingered close enough to hear them until he gave a low chuckle. "That's a pretty good analysis, Shikamaru, but you missed something."

He looked distinctly put out at the gentle admonition. "That so," Shikamaru said flatly.

"Yes." Asuma replied, looking amused by the whole thing. "But I think I'll let you figure the rest out on your own. You're missing something pretty major about what this says about Ino's personality."

"She's bossy, territorial, and passive aggressive?" Chouji offered up just a little too loudly. Shikamaru reflexively flinched, until he realized that Ino had somehow been too distracted by whatever she was babbling to hear the insult as she usually did with those terrifying bat-ears of hers. (Even if Chouji hadn't meant to be insulting at all, she would hit him senseless when she caught him).

"We already knew all that. No, that's not what he meant. She's highly insecure," Shikamaru said flatly, giving his friend a scathing look for nearly setting Ino's massive temper on them. Chouji gave a cringing, apologetic grin in response. "None of this would be necessary if she didn't put such high importance on her physical desirability, but she's also feeling threatened by one of her few female friends spending time with another girl. Ino subconsciously thinks that Aiko is going to leave her like Sakura did, back in the Academy."

Asuma nodded. "Got it in one, so be nice to your teammate, alright boys?"

"Tch," Shikamaru deflected, turning his face away. He wouldn't have teased her about it- not much, anyway. They were friends, after all, even if she was troublesome.

"I'm glad we have this opportunity to talk, Kakashi."

Sunlight pinged off of perfectly straight teeth, and Yamato cringed a little. There was just something about being around Gai that made him feel like he had a massive hangover—sunlight and noises suddenly became painful.

It didn't make any sense, but there it was.

Kakashi yawned, letting his eye close blearily. Maybe Gai would get bored and go chase butterflies if he didn't play into his hands?

As pleasant as the thought was, it just wasn't to be.

"What do you think about the recent development inextricably bonding our teams?" Gai grinned, giving a confusing little chuckle that Kakashi refused to think too deeply about along with his 'thumbs-up'.

Yamato twitched. 'This is not inextricable bonding,' he grumped. 'It's one mission, turtle man.'

Kakashi seemed to be having similar thoughts. Instead of replying verbally, he just raised one eyebrow and pulled out a book. He actually startled (rather like when someone steps on a cat's tail, Yamato mused) at Gai's booming laugh—that was traditionally where Gai would mope about being dismissed. Was something going on?

"Oh, my rival, you are too cool," Gai wiped away an inexplicable tear. "How hip of you, to pretend that you did not know that your young apprentice has fallen for my student's charms!"

There was a bizarre sound when Yamato simultaneously wheezed in surprise and forgot how to walk, ending up face-down in the dirt. Kakashi couldn't blame him. He was trying to remember…

'Did Aiko sustain any head injuries while we were gone?' Try as he might, he couldn't think of any potential cause for such a radical change in personality. 'Is she ill? Has she been dared to do something by that Yamanaka girl?'

"What."

The flat response seemed to delight Gai, who gave a wicked smile. "Why, if I didn't know better, I'd say that she hadn't told you that she was going to ask the lovely Tenten out on a romantic encounter!"

Time and space tilted back onto their usual axis, and Kakashi breathed a sigh of relief. Right. It wasn't that strange Lee boy, or even the terrifyingly unstable Hyuuga. It was the perfectly normal… girl…

'Huh. I never would have guessed.' Kakashi shrugged. Then he wondered if he knew of any other kunoichi couples. That was much more common in the civilian sector (where relationships were much less likely to be influenced by clan politics requiring that people reproduce at a young age to replace them when they inevitably died at age 22 or so. It was sort of the vicious cycle of shinobi life.)

Then again, Aiko didn't really have a clan-influenced upbringing, and as far as he knew Gai's student didn't come from a ninja family. So they might not even be approaching their relationship from the generally accepted shinobi practice of indulging in same-sex relationships temporarily before they eventually got down to the clan mandated reproduction.

He stopped in his tracks, suddenly terrified that his student had gotten into a serious relationship. But... but… Wasn't Aiko too young to be mooning over older girls? 'If she tries to come to me for romantic advice, I will request deportment to Suna,' he decided darkly.

With that, he happily dismissed the train of thought. He'd already decided Aiko was a big girl. She could take care of herself. Unless she asked him for help, he'd assume that she would be able beat the older girl into next week on her own if this 'Tenten' got too fresh.

"You've got to be kidding me," Suigetsu whined under his voice, flipping through the latest edition of the bingo book. Reading it in the dark of the sketchy bar he was in was hard enough that he had to check a second time ot be certain he hadn't just missed a page. The first sword he wanted to acquire should have been easy to find- Zabuza surely merited a fucking page in the bingo book. He'd been locked up in Orochimaru's shithole for a while, but not that long.

Of course, Suigetsu hadn't investigated the political state of his old country. All he had to know was that there would be no point to returning unless it was the only way to complete his goal, and he'd rather try to kill them all than kowtow to the fuckers who had been ruining his childhood home when he'd left. Hence why he had gotten the hell out of there before the Mist backup team those Konoha and Sand nin were expecting had showed up. Depending on who was in charge, he would either have been dragged back into their forces or would have had to cut his way out. He hadn't liked his chances at that- he wasn't an idiot. Suigetsu recognized Hatake Kakashi when he saw him, and didn't particularly want to fight a lightning user without a damn good blade. Besides, it would have been a damn shame to have to cut up those two girls.

He felt himself smirk at the thought, trying not to get too excited at the thought of cutting up such pretty skin. It would be fun in the short term, but he'd rather flirt with hot girls than dismember them, even if the blonde was a fucking bitch with stupid weaponry. At least the redhead had a sword, plain as it was. Suigetsu shivered at the memory- he'd been locked up for long enough that immediately running into a pretty bitch cutting people up had probably softened him to her more than was wise or deserved. She wasn't that good, after all. Nothing on him or his goals for the best group of swords there had ever been.

"Hey, you." He slammed his fist irritably on the countertop, catching the barkeep's attention. The woman rolled her eyes, but meandered over.

"What the hell now, brat? That's the latest edition."

"Can't be," Suigetsu sneered. "Where the hell is Momochi Zabuza?"

She snorted, thoroughly unimpressed. "You fuckin' kidding me? He's been dead for a while. Some Konoha team ganked him.

'What,' Suigetsu thought flatly. 'Is she fucking serious? I was just with a Konoha team last week. If I'd known... I could have pretended to be with the current administration and gotten some information.'

"Realllly," he drawled out, looking unimpressed. "Can you get a little more specific?"

"It'll cost you." She grinned at him, shamelessly displaying a missing tooth. Then she froze, wide-eyed at the sword kissing her throat.

"Or," Suigetsu purred into her ear, from his new position behind her. He was thoroughly fed up with this bullshit. "You could just tell me, because we're such good friends."

Stiffly, she leaned back as best as she could, trying not to move too much when she muttered, "Fine, asshole. Let me go, so I can show you." He withdrew enough to let her move around, but kept his sword out and his eyes on her when she grudgingly rifled through the more unofficial bingo book entries. That in itself told him something- whoever he was looking for wasn't a missing nin, and the country who had blacklisted them wasn't technically at war with their home village. That was the only reason they'd be in the unofficial bookings. Someone wanted them dead, but didn't want to be liable for it.

The bartender ripped the page clean out of her book and shoved it at him, never minding that it crinkled. "Enjoy. Now get the hell out of this establishment."

"Gladly," Suigetsu muttered, sheathing his blade and snatching the bounty. He didn't even look at it until he got outside in the fresh air.

At that point, he cursed up a storm.

'Well, at least I know the bitch's name now,' he thought darkly. 'Definitely should have claimed to be allies.'

She looked younger on paper, but the redhead with the sword was unmistakable. Picture must have been old. Squinting, he decided it must have been her headshot after Academy graduation, which meant she didn't take a lot of high-profile missions. If she did, there would be more recent unofficial shots of her. That probably pegged her as some sort of specialist that seldom worked with clients, like an assassin or a tracker.

"Which means that tracking her down without infiltrating Konoha will be a pain," he muttered. Maybe it would be more worth his time to investigate what the hell was going on in Mist, first.

[newnitz]

CW CSA. TL;DR: Be careful about about what pirated TV Facebook shows you

Seriously, watching this shit just depicted on a goddamn PG-13 cop show was traumatizing. Reading this might traumatize you. Or retraumatize you, depending on your own circumstances.

I didn't even watch that episode, and yet it lives rent-free in my head.

Facebook videos have weird trends. First it was makeup videos, then it was reaction videos, then it was unhinged DIYs, then it was unhinged home designs, then it was snippets of movies and TV shows, with the voices altered to avoid copyright and the like.

On one of them I stumbled upon a cop drama show episode, where a mother leaves her 6yo girl locked at home for 2 days to steal a doll for her birthday.

Yeah, at first it reads poor life choices, but then you get the sense that it goes deeper: The mother childproofed the house, left her food and told her not to answer the door. The mother didn't make it back not because she intended to leave, but because she was caught. When questioned about her neglect, it's clear the mother saw it as a lesser evil than leaving the girl with her stepfather, since in the mother's mind, if she's not around to rape, he'll rape the kindergartener instead. Oh yeah, and rape is so normalized to the mother that she thinks it's just a fact of life around men.

Then it gets worse: You discover that the mother's 22, barely more than a child herself, and the stepdad's the girl's paternal uncle. The girl's father pimped out the mother throughout her early teens, only stopping to abandon her as a pregnant teenager, easy pickings for his equally sleazy but less overtly pedophilic brother.

Then you meet the child's grandmother, who claims her daughter, the child's mother, is nothing but trouble, and she's just been passively waiting for the day she'd OD. That she made that decision when the girl was hypersexual at age seven.

And that's where I can't sleep at night: the FBI gets involved, and it turns out the mother was CSA'd SINCE TODDLERHOOD, HER STEPDAD LITERALLY MADE REQUESTS FOR HORRIFIC SHIT WITH HER AS THE "STAR", and the shitton of drugs she uses just to get day by day mask the fact that she literally developed a dissociative personality disorder from that abuse. The FBI gave up after they saw enough to believe she didn't physically survive the footage.

And sure, at first she gets better with therapy that sees her go clean, move past the dissociation, at least on the surface, but then she runs out of money and these stupid, misguided detectives convince her to confront the latest person to get caught watching her CP. And sure, they get vindicated because the guy recognizes that the horrific shit he's been watching was the torture of a child, but the confrontation takes so much out of her that she relapses into the dissociation, full on trauma reaction alias with one of the detectives' therapists, like this is clear she's going to have to live with the way these evil scum of human beings treated her for the rest of her life. That no remorse or therapy will give her back the sanity that was stolen from her before she could spell.

And I can just say "oh it's a story", but no I fucking can't. Because this is the story of who knows how many little girls in places I don't want to know exist, because these girls grow up into girl mothers who either try and break the cycle like this protagonist had, with no tools and jack shit for a support system, or it's so thoroughly normalized that the cycle continues with their daughters.

How can anyone sleep at night watching the actual episode??? Knowing that sometime, somewhere down the street, you probably passed by someone who watches little kids getting tortured on the dark web???

What the hell is wrong with us???

At this point, I'm starting to doubt the existence of hell because this world is hell enough.